Juliet: A Seafaring Tale of the Early 1700's

Chapter Five: Flight

As soon as he was able, Sir Avery walked back down to his own room. With a bath and a change of clothes, he professed to feel much better. Immediately after he'd made himself decent, Juliet held up his razor and a pair of scissors.

He laughed. "You are relentless!" But he sat himself down in his chair and allowed her to shave his beard off and trim his hair. When his beard was gone, Juliet discovered a thin scar on one cheek that gave him a slightly roguish air. She touched the scar, questioning it.

He frowned briefly and grinned. "Would you believe a duel over a woman?" Juliet shook her head, though her grin belied the scowl she attempted. "No, you've a right to your suspicions," he repented playfully. "It was practice, a few years ago."

His face was one accustomed to smiling she discovered, with a long, straight nose flanked by high cheekbones and a pair of thin lips. Those emerald eyes tended to distract her attention away from his overly-patrician features and Juliet knew that when he was completely hale, his hollow cheeks would fill out and his color would return as the pneumonia faded.

When she was done, Juliet handed him his mirror so he could see her handiwork. "Very nice," he approved. "Not one scratch. You are an accomplished lady." She raised her eyebrow at his choice of title for her but he nodded. "You do not carry yourself as one born of peasants. Truly, I'm surprised my father didn't see it despite your simple clothing. The first time I saw you, I knew."

Juliet bowed grandly, deferring to his observation. "Ah," he exclaimed. "The mystery deepens! Who are you then, if you are not merely some rude peasant's daughter? And why do you find it necessary to masquerade as a housemaid when you are not?"

Juliet grinned and shrugged, refusing to answer. She'd occasionally seen glimpses of shadows outside the door and knew that the pair of them were being spied upon.

Each day, Juliet sprinkled an appropriate amount of the white powder over his chamber pot. Without his being flat on his back and breathing shallowly, the pneumonia began to subside, leaving him to cough up the fluid in his lungs. He did his best to subdue the coughs when Juliet was in the room, feeling it ungentlemanly to spit out the ugly smelling, thick mucus with a lady present.

It wasn't long before she caught him at it and held his wash bowl in front of him. He shook his head, still with a glob of spittle in his mouth. She pointed. He refused. Knowing it might cause a secondary infection and seeing no other recourse in stopping him from swallowing the stuff, Juliet leaned in to whisper in his ear.

"Spit, ye mangy dog!" she warned him, "or I'll string ye up by yer heels until ye do!" Then she gave him a resounding wallop between his shoulder blades.

Startled, he spat. "You do speak!" he exclaimed, but Juliet clapped her hand over his mouth before he could say anything else.

"Aye," she admitted in a whisper, "but t'would 'ardly be fittin' fer yer father t'find out, so be silent!"

He nodded so she removed her hand before continuing in a whisper. "I be no peasant, nor any angel sent by God." He had to grin at that one, but his grin faded as she continued. "Th' baron be worried far ye'. He sent me to discover be ye' alive still and report back, but I dare not leave without ye' for fear ye'd not survive long enough fer him to return and fetch ye'. There be more, but th' telling would be lengthy. Will ye' trust me?"

Sir Avery nodded. Juliet nodded back. "Good. Several times, I've seen tell o' spies outside th' door, so mind what ye' say."

"I will," he promised in a whisper, then added aloud, "but it's not gentlemanly to spit!" She grinned and shook her head before leaning him forward so she could pound on his back with a cupped hand. When she was satisfied that she'd done what was needed, she handed him a glass of water and motioned for him to drink it.