A | B | 1 | 2 | 3 | 4 | 5 | 6 | 7 | 8 | 9 | 10 | 11 | 12 | 13 | 14A | 14B | 15 | 16 | 17 | 18 | 19 | 20 | 21 | 22 | 23 | 24 | 25 | 26 | 27 | 28 | 29 | 30A
PART II
MAY, 1780
RATHBONE HOUSE
LONDON, ENGLAND
GEORGE WAS WAITING in the foyer of Rathbone House when the marchioness and The Simpleton arrived home.
“WHERE IS THAT NO-GOOD SON OF MINE?!”
The deep bellow Celia knew all too well vibrated the very timbers of the townhouse. Almighty God! Her heart leapt into her throat and she barely caught her panicked squeak.
“Lord Rathbone is now in residence, my lady,” the butler intoned.
Only scant weeks ago Rathbone had been bobbing in the Chesapeake Bay. How had he attained London so quickly?
More to the point, why?!
“Yes, I can hear that,” Aunt growled. “Good night, Celia.”
God almighty! What was she to do now?!
Firstly, remain calm. “Good night, Aunt,” Celia said dully.
“I must tend to Rathbone, so go on now. I’m sure you’re exhausted. Birdie, make sure she has a sleeping draught.”
George dipped a curtsey. “Yes, m’lady.”
Celia plodded up to her room. George trailed behind her. Celia plodded across the threshold. George followed. Mary closed and locked the door behind the two of them.
Falling back to lean upon the door, Celia closed her eyes and wheezed.
“The marquess is home,” Mary muttered tightly. “I suppose saying so is redundant.”
“Oh my good Lord,” Celia gasped. As an afterthought and for good measure, she crossed herself, then gestured to her mother to continue speaking whilst she brought both hands to her mouth to breathe into.
“He was cursing your name from the moment he entered the house, and he was cursing Maarten only slightly less than that. ’Twould seem his cousin was captaining one of the ships Maarten destroyed and was killed. If Lucien had perished—” She glared at Celia. “Did you know he was captaining that ship?”
Celia’s eyelids popped open and she dropped her hands. “Mother!” she hissed. “Do you think me so low as to knowingly fire on my brother?”
Even though she was, indeed, that low.
Mary relaxed a bit and muttered, “Well. I suppose not. You two adored each other before … ”
Get her out of my sight before I kill her!
Yes. Before.
“You are so suspicious of me,” Celia grumbled.
“You’re a pirate.”
George snickered.
“I go out tonight,” Celia muttered as she pushed herself away from the door, strode across the room, and ripped off her wig. “George, get me breeches. This gown isn’t fit to start a fire.” The girl ran to unpack one of Celia’s chests all the way down to the false bottom and retrieve her real clothing.
Mary started. “Out?” she hissed. “Tonight? With the marquess freshly home and in a lather—”
“’Twould seem to me his lather is more over Edward than Maarten or I.” Celia closed her eyes again to gather her thoughts and her breath whilst Mary unbuttoned, unhooked, and unlaced Celia from her gown. First Rafael and Bancroft, and now this.
“The Nunnery?! GODDAMMIT!”
All three women looked warily at the door as if Rathbone’s rage at Celia’s cousin could seep through it and wrap her up in manacles.
“Why do you risk leaving the house tonight, of all nights?” Mary snarled.
“Rafael will be expecting me.”
Her hands stilled in the middle of unlacing the stays. “Rafael?! Celia, no!”
George chose that moment to thrust her regular clothing at her, which she exchanged for her more cumbersome female clothing.
“Aye, he is here and there is trouble afoot. It involves Bancroft and my hand, of all things, and he advised Aunt Harriet to contact her solicitors tomorrow. It appears I have somehow been put on the marriage block and knowing the state of Bancroft’s finances, I’m quite sure I’m a relatively attractive catch, imbecility notwithstanding. What I do not know is how or why.”
Mary dropped weakly into an overstuffed chair, her mouth open, her hands trembling. George immediately took up the task of relieving Celia of the remains of her clothing.
“Oh, good Lord,” she said weakly.
“Aye, ’tis what I thought, too,” Celia said grimly and stepped into her breeches.
“SOMEBODY GET MY COAT! If I have to drag that boy naked out of some strumpet’s bed by his ear, I will!”
Celia cast her mother a benignly triumphant look.
“That changes nothing. Harriet cannot protect us from Nathan now if her solicitors have already lost and with the marquess in complete sympathy with him. Edward is a distraction.”
“A useful and timely one for the moment, but otherwise, aye, you are right.” Now that the initial shock had passed, Celia’s mind filled with points and counterpoints, advantages and disadvantages, positions and deceptions from which she could devise a plan or two. “We cannot simply leave,” she began. “No excuse would be believed and no word at all would be ill advised.”
“But Rafael?”
“Mother! Rafael is our ally. He has no more wish to wed me than I him. He has taken action to protect me from Bancroft and his lawyers by presenting himself as a candidate for my hand. Indeed, should Bancroft take the bait, Rafael can then extract us from this sudden chaos with all veracity. I am not above bearing his name fraudulently so that I can return to continue my task.”
Mary sniffed. “I concede the point. But he will expect a reward.”
“Reward?” Celia hooted. “He expects that every minute we are together.”
Her mother paused. “What about Judas?” she asked low.
Celia turned away and busied herself with putting something—anything—to rights. The pain in her chest was so deep she could barely stand it. But instead, she said calmly, “What about him?”
“You would … Tonight? With Rafael?”
Of course she would. She missed Judas so badly she would take anyone she could pretend was him. “I have never been able to resist him when he is bent on seduction.”
“’Twas not a month past that—”
“Mother! Judas cannot wed me!” The room was instantly still, both Mary and George gaping at her. “He is of a class that does not wed for love,” she muttered over her shoulder. “It is over. We have parted company and will never see each other again.”
Mary said nothing for a long moment while Celia dressed, then cleared her throat. “Have a care, my love. Rafael is an opportunist of the first water and may press the situation to his advantage.”
“To wed me, do you mean?”
At Mary’s nod, Celia snorted. “I assure you, Rafael has no inclination or motive to marry me.” And, as if she didn’t want to stab someone in the throat, she continued matter-of-factly, “Nor does Judas feel so strongly he will put aside his duty.”
“Celia—”
“George— Bloody hell! Birdie— Once I leave, make sure all my clothing is in order in case that overly curious maid returns. But for now, make sure my path out the servants’ entrance will be clear of anyone, particularly the marquess. I can’t imagine what he’d do to find Fury living under his roof, although I can hope he collapses from apoplexy before he has a chance to murder me. Make absolutely certain he has left the house. Then go to the pantry and prepare a bundle of something appetizing. I’m positively ravenous and cannot manage a jaunt across the alley without a bite, much less across town.”
“Yes, Miss.”
“Celia, please at least consider you may be walking into a trap.”
Celia plopped herself on the floor in front of her mother, between her knees. “Let us argue the point, then. There are worse fates than marrying a man one loves, even if one does wish to slit his throat from time to time.”
“Love,” she scoffed. “You were very young. Georgina—”
“Birdie.”
“—please fetch me that brush. No, Celia, listen to me for a moment. Your love is that of a girl.”
“I am a woman who knows a thing or two of men and yet my love for him remains.”
“You have not spent enough time with him as a woman to love him thusly. Thank you, Birdie.”
“Oh, Mama,” she sighed. “You don’t understand. None of you do.”
“You may be surprised what I ken and what I don’t,” she grumbled.
“Miss,” George interrupted softly. She was the only one of the three of them who’d managed to consistently remember the proper address. “I’ve put away your clothes, so I shall go now.”
“Aye. Be careful and do whatever you must. Remember, you will be tossed in the Tower along with me should I be found out.”
The girl gulped, but nodded. Mary waited to speak again until the door had snicked quietly shut and was locked behind her. “Who is none of us?”
“Papa. Smitty. Maarten. Solomon. And now Judas, too, but he has no right to an opinion.”
Mary grunted. “And what did your husband think?”
“Talaat was grateful to Rafael for giving me such a remarkable education.”
Mary clucked. “Well. But otherwise I am in good company. We cannot all be wrong, my love.”
Celia spoke through gritted teeth. “Mother, think of it— Bancroft had long since disavowed me. You were an ocean away and did not know where I was anyroad.” Mary jerked Celia’s hair at the reminder. “Papa had dropped me off in a strange country whose language I could barely understand, obliging me to leave the only home I had. He left me with more than enough coin and a letter of credit, but his only advice to me was to seek out a Dr. Covarrubias and mind I did not reveal myself to be female. But what was I to do with my monthlies? How was I to stay in a boarding house with nine boys or even take a piss undetected for five years?
“Yes, Rafael took me to bed and spoiled me useless. But he wasn’t just my professor and my lover. He was my friend and my protector. Moreover, he was my only friend. He was patient and kind to a lost and lonely girl. Rafael saw I had a swift mind and it is because of his status I was suffered to be educated as well as any of the sons of nobility, and as a woman. He recognized my voice for what it was and made sure I was trained. He gave me over to women who could teach me how to dress and walk and talk as beautifully as any lady of the ton.
“Call me his creation if you must, and I will even admit that this is true. But I can think of far worse fates than having a brilliant and handsome and charming man take me as his mistress and mould me into what I am now.”
“But—”
Celia’s anger grew until she thought she might burst into flames. “Would any of you be happier if I were still a lowly crewman?” she hissed. “Or a scullery maid with four bastards to support? Or a whore not fit for even the most hellish of brothels? Because that is surely what would have happened to me once they had found me out and expelled me from university, with the Iron Maiden nowhere in sight until Christmas.
“There are many reasons why I—an educated, accomplished, utterly free woman—love a man like Rafael, why I continue my affair with him even when I want to shoot him in the head, even when I long for Judas so very badly, and I would that any one of you, just once, stop to wonder why.”
Mary sniffled a bit, but said nothing more while she occupied herself with binding Celia’s breasts so that she could pass as a street lad. This was London, and not only did she not have the freedom here that she did aboard a ship, but she was dangerously close to the one man who could identify her as Fury were she not careful.
She despised masquerading as a male.
George returned just as Celia was kissing her mother goodbye.
“The upstairs and kitchen servants are abed, Miss. The rear-admiral’s gone, but he is expected to return within the quarter hour with the viscount. The butler and all the footmen are at the front of the house, awaiting their arrival. Her ladyship is pacing in his lordship’s library.”
Which was far away from the servants’ stairs.
“Excellent work, George,” Celia muttered. “You may be the most valuable thing I got from that bucket you were aboard, and I cannot think which of the two of us has gotten the better bargain.”
“Thank you, Miss,” she whispered, and Celia quelled a smile at the girl’s flaming cheeks.
Celia slipped out the door and down the hall, the servants’ stairs, and into the pantry. She found the rather large bundle George had prepared (Celia definitely had gotten the better of that bargain), then sneaked out of the house and down the street, stopping only to duck into a deep threshold to eat.
How she hated Aunt Harriet’s hospitality. Not that its quantity was lacking for anyone other than Celia (though the quality did not match that coming out of the Thunderstorm’s galley), but for her … Celia had already lost almost two stone, and had been obliged to make a return trip to the little modiste who’d used the fees Celia had paid her to move shop.
She had to admit that her aunt’s insistence on managing Celia’s weight did assist her in one respect: Her breasts were significantly smaller now than when Celia was well fed, and smaller breasts were easier to bind. Her face was also thinner, which would aid in her disguise against Rathbone.
Lord, what a predicament.
Half the first pork pie was down Celia’s throat when a lad who was, if possible, scruffier than she, appeared out of nowhere and snatched the rest of her food right out of her hands and took off into the night.
“Good God,” she muttered, watching the skinny little thing race away. “The universe conspires to keep my figure trim for me.”
Thus it was that Celia was triply, quadruply, irritated when she arrived at Rafael’s fashionable townhouse and was obliged to sneak in the servants’ entrance to make her way silently to his chambers three floors up.
He grasped her face between his palms as soon as she entered, and kissed her with the passion of a long-lost lover.
If you don’t want to wait 2 years to get to the end, you can buy it here.
Pirates!
The chicken wings are on the smoker with some corn. The booms are increasing.
Freedom bitches!
I made these:
https://youtu.be/3DDqj5rA1ak?si=z2pFUxFDBgS6iDAu
They are the best ribs I have ever made.
I curse you through the Tubes. Jesus, his voice and affect make me want to stab him in the ribs with the ribs he just cooked. And I just ate. Over the Tubes.
Yikes. Damn you. (Feed me.)
Chef Jean-Pierre lives on my cooking tips YT.
Dude just makes food.
Yes he does!
I share your opinion, Ron. They look extra good to me too.
We eat ribs with this dude.
That shit is FIRE!
You know who else bragged about his rib recipe?
Even after his only customer Adam complained about the severe indigestion it gave him.
I quit watching the bid after he was done with the dry rub.
I bet Mojeaux skipped straight to the part where he makes the sauce. (And probably made a double batch.)
Meh, I’m down for bbq, but I’m not making it myself.
#metoo + I don’t care for ribs. Beef (not-rib) BBQ OTOH OMG yum.
This is a fun chapter. Reading mother/ daughter argue got my mind thinking ’bout that. I suppose I ‘get’ father /son ones, but Dad and I never fought, past + present, but I ‘feel’ it. With girls? ‘Poison is a woman’s weapon’ sounds about right. Backdoor needling, more effective as the flattering facade amplifies. (Yuck. It’s so effective. Biological superpower. Or weakness. Both.)
Got a legit chuckle from the trim-figure conspiracy. Sexy times and plenty of ’em.
Celia’s and Mary’s relationship is kinda like my and my mom’s relationship. We love each other fiercely, but we’re complete opposites, codependent, quasi-contentious, disagree on predictable things, and agree on the oddest things.
“WHERE IS THAT NO-GOOD SON OF MINE?!”
🙂
Fireworks have started here in southern NH.
There were some last night. I expect more tomorrow. Possibly some on Sunday.
Happy Treason Day!
Happy No Kings day…the proper one
Zing!
The Founders were so properly formal about it all. Firm, but ‘polite’ before the mostly peaceful protests began. Really is a helluva thing, k̵i̵l̵l̵i̵n̵g̵ ̵a̵ ̵m̵a̵n̵ signing your name to a treasonous document, then mailing it to the fuck you’re pushing to war.
If the French + Brits weren’t pissed at each other, and if the French hadn’t helped us ‘force’ the British navy+ into war, would we have won the Revolution? Lafayette, alone, had significant value for the American cause. Hrm.
No fireworks here but the weather is a glorious 66° so I’ll take it.
We’ve got some booms ongoing. 🎇
Spoke too soon. Lots of booms now.
Booms just starting. Independent booms since it is still two hours to susnset.
My town has put on a 100% resident funded fireworks display for almost 60 years. I’ll watch from my pool.
NKY is going off…id say twice or three times more than last year.
I lied 10-15x..
Good lord people
’Murica!
Fireworks visible in multiple directions from our house, including some in the next block over, which I could see from our sofa looking out the living room window.
Is this a great country or what?
“Celebrate your country’s birthday by blowing up a small part of it.”
No boom-boomies yet, but plenty of pops and crackles. In Carmel, I imagine most are setting ’em off to take Apu’s advice, back when they were good.
“Celebrate your nation’s independence by blowing up a small part of it!”
Pouting is such an ugly look. Perhaps cute on 4-year-olds who don’t yet know how to properly register displeasure. It’s amusing, but more important good for the midterms, that Blue still doesn’t seem to understand *why* The People are pissed. The Useful Idiots and True Believers (overlapping) don’t know how to direct the energy they know they’re *supposed* to be directing at something. ICE and deportations is all they’ve got. Hrm-diddly-dinger.
Some of us are wondering when the receipts finally come due. This guy is also pissed but I fear that he is a bit more optimistic than I am.
A bit?
Chapter 308? Has it been going that long?
wait, that’s a B. Sorry.
I’ve been corpse-fucking the dedthread.
Booms are about over here in CT and I missed the Pops doing the 1812 Overture on TV, but a fine Forth here – pool day with family friends and their frozen margarita machine (which morphed to mezcal and soda, because “keto”).
Low on rye so some single malt to finish the evening – the Scots would appreciate the occasion even though they never quite managed it themselves.
‘Merica, ya’ll!
Still the least-worst option.
My day off was largely spent on Nintendo lol. I have been spending a couple dozen hours avoiding the battle that broke me on my first run through. I was supposed to log in to work and finish my timesheet but my boss is on vacay so hmmm no.
Enjoying a Negroni now.
I flew into Logan one clear 4th of July evening. It was great view looking down on all the different fireworks shows and their reflections on the water.
My mother was giddy when I told her my ringtone for her was the cannonade of the 1812 Overture.
Quiet now.
In my older age I’m growing to appreciate quiet.
Although ye be ruled by Kangs of a different sort, happy Independence Day to ye, ye backwater colonies Glibs.
Headed to the fireworks in 30 with the kiddos.
Three years in a row I haven’t worked on the 4th.
I really hope I do t work next year.
I think I’ll donate to the fireworks show next year.
I ordered myself an early birthday present, which will arrive after my birthday.
The 17.76% off sale got me today.
https://fostech.com/product/barrett-50-caliber-20-round-drum/
Looks fun, and expensive, to use from full to empty.
Bust up some brick walls for us!
It’s been a while since I bought ammo. I have about 2000 rounds.
My fave is API, sometimes it flashes on impact.
I HAVE NOT YET BEGUN TO FIRST!
We just had the big boom, 3 shows simultaneously in the the bay, then SeaWorld says hold my beer, a great evening in SD
Fireworks here. Doggo wants to bark.
Morning y’all. Hope you had a fun holiday.
Your Chicago Cubs are good. 8 home run thrashing. Lunch at 10 and I predict a chill holiday Sat, hangovers and (real) fog to keep em in. Kick ass, today.
suh’ fam
whats goody yo
Ahoy, ye scurvy sea dogs!
🏴☠️⚓️😉
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=cmXZOI7cM0M
🎶🎶
Good morning, Sean, homey, EfE, OBE, and Ted’S.!
Mornin!
Did you have any critters traumatized by the noise last night?
☕️
Well last night was a reenactment of some civil war battle apparently. I dont think the rural parts stopped until well after midnight.
https://www.cbsnews.com/philadelphia/news/philadelphia-strike-dc33-morgue-medical-examiner-injunction/
“ there will be numerous dead bodies sitting in homes and on street corners without staff to transport them to the refrigerated morgue storage areas,”
🫣
Transport the dead bodies to the union hall.
Why? They don’t have to vote for the Union bosses in person anymore then they have to vote for their politicians in person.