A Promise

Maiden

Grace sighed, pulling at the gown. She lifted the heavy thing up and walked behind the screen set up just for changing. A young girl, tall—taller than Grace— stood there in her chemise, waiting. She scowled at the dress, knowing what it entailed. Another maid worked at the pink corset around the woman, pulling it tightly. “How...” the girl gasped as the maid tightened the laces in back, pulling the constricting thing closer around her, “can one breathe...” The scowl deepened, creasing her brow together. Grace heaved a sigh, pulling the dress onto her arms. Her hands started undoing the clasps in the back. “in this thing?”

The other maid, small and mouse like, tied the corset off before stepping back and letting Grace pull the green dress over her head. “Miss Noble,” Grace whispered, trying to get the young girl to stop moving. Alice Noble sucked in a short breath, trying to breathe evenly, but failing with the corset on. Grace put the dress on, pulling it down to her feet, brushing out the creases and wrinkles that threatened to stay in the piece of fabric. Her lithe hands worked at the hem, straightening it out and making it sure it reached just pass her ankles, being indecent if higher.

Alice stepped back, brushing her delicate fingers down the bodice, fingering the line of gems sewn into the hem framing her torso. “Why did mother have to choose this? 'From the main land' she said. There, women must be fainting left and right.” Grace ignored her mistress' whining and complaining, moving around the lady to button up the back. The other maid worked at her shoes, pulling out heels and setting them before Alice silently. Alice blinked her chocolate brown eyes as she looked in the mirror, not realizing the reflection was herself. Reaching forward, she brushed the mirror's surface, waiting for the magic to disappear. “That's me...” Grace smiled softly, pulling at Alice's hair, putting it up in loose ringlets, letting only a few cascade down her shoulder. Both knew Alice's dirty blond hair would lose all its curl by the end of the day. For the time being, it would look beautiful on her.

“Miss Noble, please. You're parents are waiting for you.” Alice waved her hand over her shoulder, knowing the rest. Her parents wanted to show her off to potential suitors, wishing for Alice to be wedded by this time next week or at least have a fiance.

“Yes, yes. I know. The ball waits for no one.” Alice held her chin high, walking out the door with Grace just behind her. Grace bowed her head slightly, watching the floor as she walked, watching how it changed from rugs to plain wood and back again. A few stubborn dark brown strands of hair fell from their place in her bun and into her face. She brushed the dirty locks behind her ear, glancing as Alice stepped up to the double doors leading to the ballroom downstairs. “Grace, wish me luck.” The young woman, eighteen in age, turned around to stare at her servant.

Ducking her head, Grace muttered, “Good luck, mistress.” She looked up, staring at Alice's back as the man on the other side announced her presence. Taking a deep breath, Alice walked through the doors, leaving Grace in the hallway, staring at the doors. Inhaling the sweet air, Grace strolled down the hall towards the back door to head outside. The palm trees swayed as the gentle breeze from the ocean comes through, fluttering their leaves. All the tropical plants moved as the wind becomes stronger, picking up dust as well. Grace covered her eyes, feeling them watering as grit got in them. She rubbed them, trying to get the particles away from her dark honey brown eyes.

Turning as she heard voices, she found a few of the maids conversing, giggling about something. Grace shook her head, having no desire to find out what they were talking about. Instead, she walked around the manor, heading towards the stables. It calmed her when she was around animals. The Marquis and the Marchioness didn't want pets in their home. The guard dogs they kept had a kennel outside and the horses had the stables.

The stable hands knew her by name and face. They all called her “Grace” when she came. Grace smiled as she found all of them busy with other things. She walked to a chestnut brown stallion, patiently waiting for the time to get out of his stall. He nudged her hand as she reached to pet his head, running her fingers down his white star between his eyes. Neighing softly, he reached down, trying to get at her apron, smelling the carrots within her pocket. Smiling, she brought them out. Grace placed two on the palm of her hand, so he could eat them easier. “I thought you might want some,” she whispered, trying to not bother anyone. The stallion nudged her shoulder, trying to coax her to give him more, which she didn't have. “Sorry, that's all I had.” She ran her fingers through his black mane, scratching softly down his neck. “I should go. I'll be back tomorrow,” with that Grace pulled away, watching him as she walked out of the stables, longing to just ride.

Walking quickly, she headed away from the stables and down the dirt path with deep ruts in it from the carriage the family took everywhere. Grace ambled, glancing at the green grass that grew around the path with ferns towards the wall surrounding the estate. Grace moved back to the door she came out of, opening it softly, looking inside before shutting it behind her. Rolling her shoulders and brushing her hands on her white apron around her waist, she glanced at the stairs.

Taking one step, a loud bang rattled the windows. It shattered a few vases as they fell to the ground. Grace stared, shocked and scared. She had been through pirate raids before, but none of the cannon shots ever got close enough to the manor before. Now they were flying past. Something wasn't right. Screams from inside the ballroom set the whole mansion alight with panic. Everyone ran out, heading to their carriages even though they wouldn't get anywhere with all of them going at once.

Grace swallowed her fear and sprinted inside the ballroom, looking through the crowd for Alice. The Marquis and Marchioness scrambled back, out of the hall. Grace didn't worry about them, feeling no remorse if they died. She had no attachment to them, unlike Alice, who had treated her well and almost like a friend.

The familiar head of dirty blond hair bobbed up and down, looking for a way out. Grace moved through the crowd, pushing others out of the way as she went to Alice's side. When she gripped the girl's wrist, a startled gasp escaped her lips. Alice spun around, staring at Grace for a moment before understanding it was her and not someone else. “Oh thank God,” she said, relieved. “I thought you were the Earl.” Grace forwent her question about what he would want and opted to take her out through the side door. She pushed through many the people, stepping on toes and elbowing them as some tried to grab onto her or Alice. “Grace!” She stopped, staring out the glass doors, seeing the few black masses outside, strolling up. Quickly she changed direction, pulling Alice with her. But she was pulled from Grace's hand. “Grace!” Spinning on her toes, she looked to find Alice being pushed farther away from her.

Groaning in frustration, she brutishly pushed her way through the people scrambling outside to get to Alice. Within arm's length, Grace reached for Alice only to have her taken away by someone else. But this time it was by a smirking man. He was tall, at least a head taller than herself. He wrapped Alice in his arms, keeping her still. Alice glanced up at him, but Grace found her reaction contrary to what she should have shown. Instead of being scared or surprised, she was joyful and excited. “I'll be taking what was promised.” Alice slowly nodded, smiling gently at Grace as both of them headed back outside. No one else seemed to notice. Mostly because they were trying to cram themselves through the front door.

Summoning her courage, Grace followed them, running to catch up. Alice was her mistress. She didn't know what she would do without her. Grace dodged the blasts and sprays of debris from cannon fire, among other things. Swerving down alleyways, she headed down to the ocean, knowing that was where the pirates would dock. Using her head, she decided to head to a small bay just to the left of the larger, main bay.

The smaller bay was hidden within tall cliffs and almost no way to get out besides climbing the rock face. Grace artfully found her way through the masses and headed to a small, almost indistinguishable path that dipped down and through a large rock wall. Placing her hand against the cold, moist stone, she walked through the dark tunnel. The low ceiling caused Grace to duck her head, to keep from hitting the stones.

Bugs skittered around her, but Grace was focused on getting to that ship, hoping it was still there. If it was there. A faint light started to illuminate the tunnel, allowing her to see where she was going. Weaving around the stalagmites and the dips in the floor, she strolled swiftly out of the tunnel, looking towards the ebbing waves of the ocean. There just beyond running-aground was a ship. Three masted ship and as dark as any ship could be. The wood seemed to be black or something close to it. A Man-o-war.

Swallowing her fear and apprehension of going to a pirate's ship, she trudged out of the tunnel and down the switchbacks carved into the cliff side. Watching her feet, she stepped down on the sand, feeling it shift around her boot. Carefully, silently, she traversed the sand, heading towards the ship, wondering if she should perhaps swim out to it, knowing none of the pirates would expect it.

She stood at the edge of the water, feeling it wash over her feet, soaking the hem of her dress. The cool feeling of the waves drifted over her feet, coming slowly up to her ankles before she noticed the tide was coming in. Scrambling back, she hit something solid. More solid than air, but less than stone. It felt like a person.

Spinning back around, Grace found she was right. A large, burly man with a scraggly beard stood before her. His blue eyes darkened with lust and were red from drinking too much rum. “Me bonny lass. What be you the'e for?” He stepped forward, bathing himself in the glow of the moon, swishing back his blond hair that was in tangles. “Waitin' for someone?” His voice got scratchier by the second, grating her ears.

Stepping back, she found she was at the water's edge once again. He reached out to grab her when she side stepped, trying to get away. Grace pulled all of the dodging moves she had learned to the test as he lunged for her, latching onto her arm. Her nails ran down his hand, leaving behind red lines. The man yelled, cursing the high heavens that a wench had hurt him. He twirled her around into his chest, capturing her effectively. Her arms were before her, pinned between her and him, squeezing the life out of her breasts and the air from her lungs. “Wench! No use tryin' ta escape. I got ye now.” His face loomed closer to hers, trying to plant a kiss on her lips as she kept moving her head back and forth. “Stay still!” he shouted, knocking his fist against her head.

Grace collapsed on the ground, surprised he let her go. She used the opportunity to escape from the drunk pirate. Before she could get to her feet, two hands grabbed her ankles, pulling her back down. A heavy weight leaned against her, pinning her to the sand. Her arms shake at the extra weight, trying to keep both of them up, but after only a few moments she collapsed with the man on top of her.

His hungry hands roam over her body, squeezing parts that he shouldn't and running his fingers where no man had business being. She continued to struggle, kicking and screaming, but nothing helped as he lift up her dress. Tears dropped off the tip of her nose to the dark ground as the drunk pulled down his own trousers. She could feel his heat, radiating from his skin. He was close, so close now.

A shot resonated, scaring both of them. Grace took the chance and pushed up on her hands and knees. She stood up and quickly straightened herself out. “I thought I told you there be none of that tonight,” a familiar voice stated. Turning on her heel, the brunette stared at the familiar face. The face of the man that took Alice. His strong jaw moved slightly as he smirked, recognizing her as well. “Well, well. Look who decided to show up.”

“Give Alice back,” was all Grace said, glaring at the man, trying to ignore how handsome he was. The man chuckled, running his hand through his dark locks, brushing them back from his face. Strutting up to her, he smirked, leaning down and getting very close. Grace could smell rum on him as well as another scent under that one. A fragrant scent of honey almost. It was subtle, not over powering in the slightest.

She was brought back from her thoughts as he smashed his lips to hers, gripping the back of her head, deepening it. For a moment she didn't do anything, shocked. Her lips moved on their own before her mind caught up. Grace struggled within his hold, banging her fists against his chest. It didn't seem to do anything. Before long they broke for breath. Her vision started swimming. “Night, my lady.” Grace tried to glare, but it didn't work right when all her eyes wanted to do was close. “We will meet again.” He took her in his arms, laying her gently on the sand. Leaving her there. “I promise,” was the last thing she heard him say, walking off to the dinghy.

Trying to move, to call out to him, she found she couldn't. All that seemed to work was closing her eyes and drifting off into the abyss of nothing. It seemed to consume her mind, leaving only a blank spot where it should be. But Grace knew this was how being drugged worked. One didn't remember anything from the blank state on until the drug wore off.