Chapter Nine
“So yer waitin’ for ‘im to get off the ship, are ye?” the man with the swollen nose said with a laugh. Sarah had been on her shift for several hours, and not a single chair was empty, all filled with men who worked on the docks or who were looking for a few hours of rest after months on a ship. And to Sarah’s surprise, not a single one of them wore a coat. However, that was not the least favorable issue she had with them; that was reserved for the fact that they smelled as if none had taken a bath or even deigned to wash themselves in as much time as they had been on those ships.
“I am,” she replied firmly to the man. “Though, I must admit that I am not sure when it is due to arrive.” This had not been the first time she had explained all this to the man, and it irritated her he did not believe her.
His friend who sat across from him leaned over, his eyes blood shot and his voice slurry. “You fool! He’s out killin’ them pirates that killed her father!” he said, then turned to Sarah, a grin on his face. “Ain't that right, beautiful?”
“Oh, bugger off, you!” the swollen-nosed man spat.
“My name is Sarah,” she said, placing her free hand on her hip. “And I would appreciate that you not use such language around me.”
The men at the table burst out laughing as Sarah turned in anger and embarrassment and hurried back to the kitchen. She walked over to the large pot of stew, gave it several stirs as she was directed earlier, then served up two bowls, which she took out to a table where two men sat, their glasses in front of them already almost empty. They both grunted and began shoveling the food into their mouth, their mannerism no better than Molly's. Sarah watched in horror as the food dribbled out of one man’s mouth, and then swallowed hard as the man turned a pair of fierce eyes upon her.
“What’re you staring at?” he asked, then acting as a wild dog, bared his teeth, causing Sarah to take a step back and scream. It was as if every man in the pub was laughing, and anger boiled up inside her. How dare they laugh at her?
“Shame on all of you,” she shouted. Perhaps this was her calling; she could bring civility to the whole lot of them. “The manners you gentlemen portray are abominable. You act as if you are more animal than human, every last one of you.”
“Hear that, Jacob? Your um…what’s that word again?” a large man asked as he gazed up at Sarah.
She sighed, a shake to her head. “Abominable.”
The man nodded, then turned back to man across from him. “Abdominal,” he said, and the men laughed even harder.
A man stood, his dark hair mostly silver and his face covered with rough lines. He had only one eye, a disfigurement much like James’s, or at least the description Sarah had given of James. That single eye lit up and he gave her a wide grin. “You boys need to show respect to a lady. Ain't that right, love?” he said, walking over to Sarah.
She let out a sigh of relief, glad that a man with decency was in the crowd. She returned his smile and gave him a nod. “Yes, precisely. If only your friends would listen to such sage advice,” she said, frustration in her voice.
The man nodded and then turned to the others who had now grown silent, more than likely from embarrassment after being denounced for their abhorrent behavior.
Sarah looked around her and though a few people were talking, most were looking at her.
“You heard her, boys,” the man said. “Time for some manners!” He turned to Sarah, took her hand in his, and before she realized what was happening, planted on it perhaps the longest and wettest kiss she had ever received.
The men cheered and then hurried up from their seats, pushing and pawing at each other as they attempted to form some sort of queue.
A man who was as old as winter itself grabbed her hand and, to her shock, placed a toothless kiss on her hand. “My Lady,” he said, spittle flying. “Is that civil enough for ya?”
Sarah nodded, and then another man took her hand and kissed it. Though offering her body to this many men was shameful, it brought about much needed order, and so she allowed the ruining of her innocence to continue. And continue it did as more men fought to be the next to kiss her hand, others pushing their way up front to do it again.
When two men began to exchange harsh words, Sarah started to admonish them, but a loud voice from behind her stopped her.
“Unless I see you men back in your seats,” Ingrid shouted, her hands on her hips and her eyes so narrow, Sarah wondered if the woman could see, “there will be no more drink tonight.”
The men froze in their spots, and all talking ceased completely, as did the laughter. Sarah feared that the men even had stopped breathing.
“But we was just ‘aving a bit o’ fun with the upper-crust,” the man with one eye said to Ingrid, his voice pleading.
“Having a bit of fun is what lost you first eye,” Ingrid spat. “Keep it up and I’ll remove your second.”
The man turned. “All right boys, no more fun.”
The men hurried back to their seats, and the talking resumed, although it was quite a bit more reserved than it had been before all the fuss had broken out. Sarah turned to Ingrid, amazed at the power the woman wielded. She was concerned, however, how the silver-haired man had seen past her disguise and realized that she was a part of the gentry, and she wanted to ask him. It would be the only way she could improve. Yet, before she could ask him, Ingrid pulled Sarah to the side and said, “Come on, we have plenty of work to do. We’ll talk about all this later when we have no more empty pint glasses to fill.”
Though she had a million questions, Sarah did as Ingrid asked. There was plenty of time to perfect her guise.
***
When the pub had mostly cleared out and only a few patrons remained, Sarah fell into a chair by the fireplace and let out a long sigh. The day’s work had been grueling and looking down at her hands she had to fight back the tears. The lines of hard work were already showing and she feared they would only get worse over time. Being a common woman was taking its toll on her and she wondered if her looks would be the next thing she would lose.
“You look tired,” the man with one eye said, taking a seat across from her and acting much more civil than he had earlier that night.
“I am. I have traveled far…” She stopped and scolded herself inwardly for almost revealing her secret.
The man looked around and then back at her. “Listen, love. You can tell me where you’re from. I’m on a ship tomorrow and won’t be back for some time. Who would I be able to tell? No need to lie, now is there?”
Sarah considered the man’s words. What he said was true. She leaned in and lowered her voice. “I am not a common woman,” she said.
His one eye went wide. “Is that so?” Perhaps her disguise had worked better than she first suspected.
She nodded. “I am from Greystone Estate. Perhaps you have heard of it?”
“Let me see,” he said, tapping a dirty finger on his chin “No, where is it?”
Sarah sat back and crossed her arms. “It’s a beautiful house located in Hatherly. That’s a lovely village in Devon, you see? Anyway, it has the best maintained gardens of all of the homes in the area.”
“That sounds like a fine place to live. Why’d you want to leave such a place and come here?”
She felt a connection with this man, his one eye kind, and it had seemed like ages since she shared her plight. Therefore, she decided to trust him with her secret.
“You see, many years ago, there was this boy and he was so horrid and hateful that he destroyed the gardens my family built…” She unburdened her heart to him, and he patted her hand from time to time encouraging her to tell him everything and promising he would keep her secrets. This time her story included a terrible fire to make the story that much more interesting.
“And that is the story of the disreputable Duke of Pillberton and how I found myself here in this town,” she said, wiping at her eyes. She looked over and saw Ingrid wave her over. “I am sorry, but it would be best if I get back to work. I do not want to be let go on my first day.” She stood and then placed her hand on his. “Thank you, kind sir, for listening to my woes. It was exactly what I needed.”
“Call me Harry, love,” the man said. He took her hand in his once again and planted another kiss on her knuckles. This time it was not as wet and she did not feel the urge to pull away her hand as quickly as she had before. “May you find the man you need,” he said. “I have a feeling he is closer than you think.”
“I hope so,” Sarah said, feeling the first bit of joy she had felt in days. She gave him a smile of thanks and then headed over to Ingrid, feeling much relieved to have been able to tell someone of her predicament.
***
Sarah found it extremely difficult to maintain her attention as Ingrid explained how to deal with the unruly men who frequented the pub. Exhaustion attempted to envelop her mind and she had to shake her head to keep herself awake. The pub had been closed for some time, Harry being the last of the drunks to stumble out the doors before Peter locked up. All Sarah could focus on was how her bed seemed to be calling out to her.
“Now you try,” Ingrid said after she demonstrated an example of how to speak to the unruly patrons.
Sarah nodded and walked over to a chair. She placed a hand on the back of the chair and spoke as if a man were sitting in it. “All right, lads, calm down or I will not serve you any more drinks,” Sarah said, then thrust her chest out. “Like that?”
Ingrid brought her hand to her mouth in an attempt to cover her laugh. “Close. Remember, just enough to entice, but don’t make it so obvious.”
“Very well,” Sarah replied.
She practiced once again, and this time Ingrid nodded her head. “Excellent. I think you have learned enough for one night, wouldn't you say?”
“Thank you for showing me. If it was not for those educating me, such as you and Alice and Mildred, I would never have known all of this. But Mildred would not have it any other way.”
Ingrid smiled and then the two headed out back to her new home. As she walked into the room, it was as if the walls began to close in around her. It was not just the size of the room which brought on this sensation, but the realization that her life would continue to change significantly. She was now a commoner with a common bed in a common room. Her body was already falling apart. Too exhausted to remove her dress, she dropped into her bed and closed her eyes. Sleep came immediately, and try as she might, she could not stop the images of James taking over her dreams. But he was not the hideous creature she had described in her stories, but instead was a handsome Duke with dark brown hair, handsome features, and a lean muscular body that filled in his clothes quite well.
She drifted off to sleep just as his image took her hand and placed his lips on her knuckles…