The Kitchen, the Next Day
Scott Sherwood was late. Somehow, Elizabeth wasn't surprised. When he did appear, he overplayed his role as a kindly gardener in the rehearsal for Lady Hilary's drawing room comedy, turning a comic story of manners into a steamy romance...and completely upsetting Her Ladyship. Hilary sputtered and fizzled, finally insisting to Elizabeth that he be banned from her sight for the rest of the morning.
Elizabeth almost literally shoved him into the kitchen. “Go help Maple get the pots and pans clean, before Her Ladyship strangles you in front of our guests.”
He bowed low before her. “I'll make these pots shine so hard, you'll be able to eat off of them.”
“That's the idea.” She stormed out, slamming the door behind her.
Maple was already loading the buckets they used to wash dishes. “Bonjour, Scott,” she greeted with a smile. “I think this is our first time working together in legal job, oui?”
“I think you're right.” Maple watched him as he rolled up his sleeves and lifted a stack of heavy copper pots.
“Scott?”
He started scrubbing at the first pot on the pile with a large brush. “Yeah, Mapes?”
“We have been friends a long time, oui?”
“Sure, Mapes!” He pushed hard at a particularly caked-on spot.
She put the dish she'd finished in a stack next to her. “You never left Pittsburgh, did you? You make up job in Philadelphia.”
“Where did you hear that?” He put the pot aside and took a large copper pan covered in grease.
“Oh, this place and that place.” She watched him. “It is not just Crimson Blade, or becoming manager again. It is Elizabeth. You want to get back into her bon grace.”
Scott stared at the pot he was scrubbing. “You know, speaking of the Crimson Blade, maybe he'd better take some time off for a while. I think Pruitt is starting to get ideas. He already raised the price on his head to fifteen thousand dollars.”
Maple raised her eyebrows. “No Crimson Blade? What about....”
He put a hand on her shoulder. “Oh, there would still be a Crimson Blade.” He winked at her. “Maple, red is really your color.”
“Moi?” Her eyes widened. “But how could I...”
“I know you can do it. I taught you everything I know.” He tossed the pot on the stack. “Piece of cake!”
The Docks of the Monongahela River, Later That Day
Priscilla Cosgrave normally did not question her boss' commands...but for once in her life, she wished he'd do his own dirty work. Why couldn't he deliver this letter? This unsavory part of the village was no place for a lady. She could hear raucous laughter coming from the bars situated along the riverfront. At least three weather-beaten sailors in threadbare clothes had made lewd gestures at her.
The Ursula Gothel was a large, gaudy vessel, painted in unseemly shades of sea green and brilliant blue. Cosgrave wrinkled her nose at the crude carving of a half-naked mermaid that was used as a figurehead.
"Frouline Cosgrave?” The woman who came down from the gangplank wore tight-fitting trousers and a bright yellow blouse that was open to reveal every bit of her curves. Her long, blondish-brown hair was pulled back at the nape of her neck in a loose bun. Her slanted eyes and exotic features were pulled into a sly smile. “I believe you have something for me.” She spoke in a heavy German accent.
She thrust the letter into her hands. “I don't know why you can't find a better place to tie up your ship. I'm lucky I haven't been robbed...or worse!”
“I don't think any of the sailors here would be interested in a woman of your qualities.” She opened the letter. “I suppose your boss thinks I'll do another job for him.”
“That was the idea.”
She read the letter. A slow, evil smile spread across her face. “Yes. I think I might enjoy this. Tell your...employer...I would love to meet this Lord Jeffrey Singer in Boston.” Her smile grew into a nasty smirk. “And perhaps, even have a talk about his formidable wife who isn't.”
The Market Square at Pittsburgh Village, Two Months Later
Elizabeth loved Christmastide at Pittsburgh Village. The marketplace was filled with so many sights and sounds! Her basket was filled with holly, greenery, and bread and pastries for the Inn's Christmastide dinner party.
It was such a beautiful day, most of the staff and residents of the Inn had opted to join at Pittsburgh Village's weekly market. Mackie and C.J were buying their meat. Maple had gone to get pastries and bread from the baker's cart. She was buying decorations for the Inn. While there were few produce carts at this time of the year, carts selling just about everything else imaginable, from local crafts to meats from the hog and cattle farmers outside of Pittsburgh, could be found on the streets
Lady Hilary's mind wasn't on the festivities. Elizabeth had insisted she come along, if only to get her mind off of Jeff. Hilary hadn't had a letter from him in weeks. Everyone at the Inn was worried, Lady Hilary most of all. They all remembered what happened the last time he was working in Boston.
“He'll be all right, Hilary,” Elizabeth said gently. “I'm sure of it. He's a big boy. He knows what he's doing. Besides, it's hard to get mail out of Boston right now, and there's all those brigands on the road.”
Hilary was only half-looking at the bolt of green velvet cloth spread across the table. “He said it would only be a few weeks, and he still hasn't come home.” She focused on the cloth, but her eyes were far away. “This is the first Christmastide we haven't spent together in five years. I miss him so much...”
“It must be hard for you.” Elizabeth sighed. “I miss...” She checked herself before she mentioned a man who was supposed to be dead. “I miss people, too.”
“Lizzie, Lizzie, Lizzie!” Scott Sherwood strode up to them, his red jacket and plumed hat standing out in the crowd. Elizabeth just sighed. Scott had tried to stick to her side since he took the job at the Inn. To give him some credit, he'd actually gotten pretty good at it, other than changing lines in the plays more often than Hilary preferred. He was certainly useful in the kitchen. The pots had never shown brighter. “How are the two prettiest ladies in Pittsburgh Village this morning?”
“What do you want, Scott?” Elizabeth knew him well enough by now to tell when he had some devious scheme in mind.
He put his arms around the two women. “Hilary, I just had a wonderful idea for that play we were doing today, 'The Hands of Time.' I thought we could get rid of all that boring romance stuff. I think what people want right now is a good, stirring story about politics.”
Hilary glared at him. “You leave my starring plays alone, you crafty, conniving con-man of a Sherwood! You're just a kitchen worker! You have no longer have any authority over me, no more than...than a pirate would have over a king!”
Maple, who was nibbling on Shrewsbury cakes from the baker's cart, joined them. “Someday, Your Ladyship, perhaps being a fancy lady will not matter so much, oui?”
Hilary finally threw up her hands. “None of you have any respect for my status! I am one of the Booths, one of the finest noble families in England...until we had to leave, due to...one or two dalliances I won't mention here.” She stormed off, towards one of the houses on the square. Perhaps a chat with her dear old friend Earl Giels of Aldrych would soothe her jangled nerves.
She had only gotten a few paces when she heard pistol fire in the square. She turned around...and ran smack into the barrel of a gun. “Not again!” she groaned. “What is with you men who continually insist on threatening my person?”
These men were hardly respectable publishers, though. They were hulking, grizzled sots in the striped shirts, tattered trousers, and grimy stocking caps of buccaneers straight out of illustrations in the penny press. “Well, hello there, baby cakes,” leered the tallest one. His hairy arms were long and ape-like, ending in a huge, heavy fist that held a battered pistol. “You look like a right rich bird, girlie.”
“GIRLIE!” She sputtered. “Do you know who I am?”
One of the pirates ogled her from behind. “You look like someone with a lot of dough to me.”
Two more were braying like a pair of exceedingly unattractive donkeys. “I bet she'd bring the boss a lotta money. She's someone they'd pay top dollar for.”
Hilary was starting to step back. “Now, gentlemen, surely you wouldn't want to hold me for ransom!”
She backed right into another one. He took her purse and pulled her arms behind her back. “I'm almost starting to miss Holstrom and his pistol. At least he smelled somewhat civilized. You reek of tobacco, limes, and old sweat.”
Hilary's eyes widened as another pirate joined them...but this didn't look like any pirate she'd ever seen. This “pirate” was tall, slender, and willowy. Her exotic dark eyes gazed at her under languid lids. She wore a tight-fitting red and blue dress and a cunning cap with a blue ribbon. “Well, well, what do we have here?” Her voice was a soft German drawl. “If it isn't Lady Hilary Booth herself, the former wife of Lord Jeffrey Singer.”
“Former?” Hilary snarled. “You watch what you say about my husband, you predatory river shark!”
“I'm not talking about your husband, Your Ladyship. I'm talking about mine.” She turned to the man who held Hilary. “Bring her to the waterfront. I have a letter to her from her ex-husband that may interest her. I'll write the ransom note for her friends.” She smirked. “The rest of you, take whatever booty you can find and bring it to the ship within the hour.”
Hilary struggled and let out a scream, but the man hauled her off. Captain Pavla DeVile followed, smirking.
The pirates had started to spread across the market, knocking over booths and wrecking havoc. They stole food, threw it at people and each other, and grabbed at jewelry and purses. Scott immediately pushed Elizabeth behind his back. “Liz, go see if you can find the others and get the guards. I can take these guys.”
“Want some help, Sherwood?” Mackie stepped next to him. “I'm pretty handy in a fight. I've had to deal with my fair share of bar brawls at the Buttery Tavern.”
“The more the merrier, Mackie!” Scott lunged for the first guy who tried to reach for Elizabeth's purse and basket of greenery. Mackie aimed a right hook at a shorter guy next to him.
Maple and C.J ducked into the doorway of the bakery. C.J nodded at the squall in the square. Scott was starting to wear down. Mackie had been tackled by two guys and was on the ground. “Maple, I think now would be a good time to give Scott a hand. I'll go get the others.”
“Oui, Monsieur Byrnes.” Maple was grateful the baker had gone outside to take a look at the chaos. She untied her cloak, revealing a tight red blouse, then made for the bakery's second floor.
Elizabeth tried to make her way through the crowds. The market was a mess. The streets were slippery with debris from spilled carts and broken booths. She finally ducked behind an overturned pie cart. Eugenia was throwing the remaining pies at the pirates. Mr. Foley was more interested in eating one. His face was covered in reddish goo.
“Oh Elizabeth, this is awful!” Eugenia hit another pirate in the face with what looked like an apple cranberry pie. “Where did all these nasty pirates come from?”
“The wharf, I imagine.” Elizabeth made a face. “I guess they aren't as well-patrolled as we'd been told.”
Mackie jumped in with them. He had a black eye and his spectacles were half-hanging off his nose. “I thought things might be a little safer back here,” he breathed as his fixed his glasses. “When those guys hit, they really hit below the belt!”
Elizabeth watched in horror as Scott was surrounded by a hoard of grotesque, hulking pirates. Two of them grabbed his arms; another hit him hard in the gut. He doubled over, but they forced him back to his feet.
She was about to run out to him when Mr. Foley tugged on her sleeve. “Mr. Foley, what is it?”
He pointed upwards...and at the four pirates leering over them. Eugenia screamed, throwing her last cream pie right into the face of the one reaching for her.
“HEY YOU GUYSSSS!” They all stood up, just in time to see someone swing down and into the crowd from the tall evergreen near the bakery. They swung right into the two men holding holding Scott, kicking them to the ground. They made a soft landing on a pile of pirates. More men in black with red belts rushed into the square.
“Scott, are you all right?” Elizabeth could clearly see that the person was dressed like the Crimson Blade, in a red shirt and black trousers with a red belt and a hood....but they were a little shorter and far more slender than the Crimson Blade she knew. The way the shirt clung to her chest clearly indicated that this Crimson Blade was very, very female.
“Yeah, I'm all right Ma...Crimson Blade.” He leaned over her ear. “I'll tell C.J to take the money around to the poor box at the church, then get the Inn staff out of here,” he whispered. “You help the guys take care of the rest of these jerks.”
“Sure, Sc...sir.” She skewered two pirates with swords, then ducked around two more. The other people in black either dueled with pirates or knocked them out.
Scott got over to the cart just in time to see it topple onto three pirates. The fourth was wiping cream out of his eyes. Mackie, Elizabeth, Eugenia, and Mr. Foley hurried out from under it. “Good work, crew.” He pulled out his infamous pocket watch as the governor’s guards started to troop into the remains of the market. “Oh, would you look at the time? I think we need to get back to the Inn and let the governor’s boys do what they do best.”
Eugenia looked worried. “But where are the others? Hilary and Maple and C.J? I don't think we should leave without them!”
Scott shrugged. “I'm sure they'll turn up sometime.”
The Crimson Blade followed the last remaining pirate to an alley in the docks. She finally cornered him by a barrel of herring. “I demand to know why you are making mess of nice market! And at Noel, too!”
“You don't tell me what to do, baby cakes.” He lunged at her with his own sword, but he was unsteady and probably a little drunk. The Crimson Blade was quite sober. She easily got him against the barrel, holding her sword to his throat.
“What is it that you are doing here?” She pushed a little harder into his throat. “Tell me.”
He thrust a note in her hands. “I'm supposed to give this to the friends of Lady Hilary Booth.”
“I'm her ami.” She grabbed the paper. “I will take this to proper authors.” She shoved him away. “Now, you get outta here, before I put this sword in place that will really hurt!”
She watched him run off towards the big, bright-colored ship across the wharf. She opened the note and read it...and let out a yelp of anger before hurrying back towards the market.
The Adventures of the Crimson Blade
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