PrivateersandPinegars

From IMiA

It's some time after dinner when Wesley sees the dark woman dressed in deep burgundy with simple accents of gold. Her outfit and jewelry seem plain, almost severe, next to those of many of the other noble ladies present, but the style suits her.

When she notices that she has Wesley's attention, she smiles at him and comes over to greet him, extending her hand. "I'm Patrice Pinegar," she says. If Wesley is at all acquainted with the Duke (and presumably he is, or he wouldn't be here), he will recognize the name of the Duke's sister.

Captain Wesley Hobart is dressed in his usual dashing manner, which tonight apparently means a well-tailored black jacket worn over a vest the color of a fine merlot, and, under that, a rather plain white silk shirt. Wesley's black pants appear to form themselves to his body more closely than is strictly fashionable for such a formal event, but he seems comfortable enough despite that. He is also wearing his much used rapier, which is, at least in the eyes of some, another definite fashion faux pas. It is probably just as well that none of these critics have chosen to bring these points to Captain Hobart's attention this evening.

Patrice is admiring his blade, so obviously she isn't worried about the fashion faux pas. Either that or she's enough of a woman of the world to be admiring the well-turned leg inside the Captain's trousers.

He takes her hand and bows slightly over it. "It is a pleasure to meet you, Lady Pinegar. I'm Captain Wesley Hobart."

"The pleasure is mutual, Captain. I had hoped I would encounter you this evening. My good-sister mentioned you and said that you'd offered us a tour of your ship. I'm very much looking forward to that." Patrice smiles again, and it's a genuinely happy smile.

Wesley returns the smile. "It'll be good to have an occasion when people are happy to see the Raptor, as there are so often times when the sight of her seems to be....unwelcome."

"I can hardly imagine that, but I'm not likely to end up facing her under the terms of her marque, either," Patrice replies. Her eyes are sparkling. "Tell me all about her, please, so I'll know what I'm seeing. Naval matters weren't the focus of my education, but I'm always anxious to learn more."

"Always a fine attitude to have," Wesley responds, glancing down for a moment to straighten the cuff of his jacket. "Are you looking to learn the length of her beam and how many tons she displaces, or something less technical in nature? I can go on at some length about her specifications, but I'm sure you would soon grow tired of hearing me spout numbers at you. It would hardly be the first time that has happened." He grins.

"My technical expertise with vessels is sadly restricted to travelling as a passenger, so I'm afraid most of the numbers past the basic dimensions won't mean much to me. With a name like Raptor I'd expect her to be speedy, though--swooping in on her foes and dealing them a ferocious blow." Patrice punctuates the last part of the sentence with an arm gesture mimicking the sudden descent of a hawk on unwary prey.

"She may be a bit large to be quite as speedy as her namesake, but she's fast enough," he assures her, smiling at her gesture, "and she's got enough guns to deal that ferocious blow. The Raptor's a bit over two hundred feet long, if you measure her from her billet head to her taffrail, and her mainmast is a 220-footer."

Patrice looks impressed. "She's a big bird, isn't she? How many guns does she have?"

"She's got thirty-two long guns and twenty carronades, plus the bow chasers," Wesley tells her, in much the same tone that a parent might use to talk about a favored child. "As long as we sail waters where they'll actually fire, she can put up quite a fight."

He gives her an appraising look. "I think you're the first Lady ever to ask me that question."

"I spent some decades on a Grand Tour when I was a girl. While I was travelling, I had the chance to see a few large military gunships. The sight impressed me, and I've always been fascinated by them since then. The fact that there are none in Amber only renders them more fascinating to me, I suspect," Patrice confesses.

"Of course, I've never seen them used, other than in salute."

"If you think that seeing them in battle is a very different experience, then you're right," he tells her with a wry smile. "That's fairly unlikely to happen in the harbor though, no matter how fine some of the pickings look. Even the Amber navy can occasionally hit what they're aiming at in such a small space."

Patrice gives Wesley a toothy grin and glances around mock-surreptitiously. "I won't let any of our fine naval officers who are present this evening know you said that. They might be able to hit the broad side of a barn with their fists, too, and I think we'd all be less happy if that happened."

She changes the subject slightly. "If I want to go up in the riggings when we visit the Raptor, what should I wear?"

"Something that's not a dress or a skirt, though I'm sure that would make the boys happy," Wesley says with a smile. "If you don't mind my asking though, why is it you'd want to be up in the rigging?"

"Isn't that the way to see the best view?" Patrice asks, sounding a bit surprised at the question. "I want to see everything, and if that's where you see the best from, that's where I want to go."

"It's the best place to see things from, that's true," he agrees. "I was just curious whether there was something in particular you might be hoping to see. You'll already be on the finest ship in the harbor, so the rest is just scows and piers."

"I always want to see everything," Patrice explains, giving a girlishly helpless sort of shrug and looking vaguely--not embarrassed, but more as if she can't really help herself. "Even the piers and the garbage scows. I'll admit I'm particularly curious about the view up the hill, but mostly I just want to see what's there. It gets me in all sorts of trouble."

Wesley snares a small tidbit from the tray of a passing waiter. "There is certainly more than enough trouble to be gotten into around here, especially if you are going to be spending time in the company of Lady Juliana. She seems to have quite the knack for finding it." He takes a bite from the pastry in his hand, though it soon is apparent from his expression that he's not quite sure it was a wise course of action.

"Try the pink ones. They're better," Patrice suggests, having passed on that tray herself.

She changes the subject back: "I can hardly believe Her Grace gets into trouble, since all reports from my brother make her a perfect angel." Patrice's smile and tone give the lie to her words, though. "The most danger I imagine myself to be in from her presence is as the target of some matrimonial scheme. And if my dear mother hasn't managed to marry me off yet, I doubt my good-sister will better her. Do you have a lady in Amber, Captain, or are you also subject to her matchmaking plans?"

Wesley manages to swallow the last of his pastry in time to laugh. "I don't think I'm in either category, as, even though I'm not attached, a dashing pirate captain--"

Patrice laughs, probably because she got him to admit it.

"--doesn't tend to make very good husband material. As long as the King doesn't raise me up into the ranks of the nobility, I should be safe." He pauses for a moment to knock a few crumbs from the cuff of his jacket. "You, on the other hand, are not. Be sure not to underestimate her powers in this matter."

Patrice's laughter dies in mid-note, and it takes her a moment to recover from whatever memory Wesley has dredged up. After a moment, she says in a significantly quieter voice, "All I can say to that is that you must not have met my mother yet."

Rallying, she adds, "Besides, I'm a troublemaker who likes to climb in the riggings. No man in his right mind would have me."

"In case you hadn't noticed, people who aren't in their right mind aren't exactly in short supply around here," he tells her with a quick smile. "I do apologize if I've managed to stray into less than pleasant territory though."

Patrice shakes her head slightly. "There's nothing to apologize for. I'm apparently hypersensitive this evening. Sometimes you come back to a place you've been gone from for a long time, and you turn into a touchy, sentimental fool. I guess it's the price of leaving your youth behind you, although I rather thought it wouldn't happen to me until I got a little older."

Wesley smiles one of his apparently large collection of wry smiles. "I'll have to take your word for it, as I think I'm still in the midst of my youth. I'm sure the end of it will sneak up on me when I least expect it though."

"If you don't mind my asking, why did you choose to return to Amber now?"

"A number of things came together this year--investments that required my attention, an old friend who's getting married, the wind-down of my father's estate. Change is on the wind, enough that I could smell it even in the country, where I'd been staying with my mother." Patrice glances about the room, shakes her head slightly. "Now that I'm here, I can't get away from it. Everything is the same, and yet different. Fortunately I'm not so old that I can't adapt to it all."

"Other than the fact that King Oberon isn't around, and I'm hobnobbing with the nobility, things seem more or less the same to me, but of course I haven't spent as much time away from Amber as you. I'm sure that makes the changes more obvious." He looks around himself, as though trying to see something different. "What would you say the most striking change is so far?"

"Nothing. That's what bothers me. I left right before we went to war with Ghenesh, after my brother's marriage. Amber feels much the same as it did--except without Oberon, as you say." Patrice's eyes narrow slightly. "Details differ. There are new shops, fashions change, people marry, have children, and occasionally die. But the smell in the air is like it was before the last war."

"I think that maybe your nose is more sensitive than mine," Wesley replies after a moment, "or maybe it's just that I wasn't here for the last war. It does make sense though that someone would choose to strike against Amber when they only have to deal with Oberon's children, rather than the King himself." He gives a slight sigh. "I suppose this will mean a round of explaining to someone in a uniform that the Raptor and I aren't interested in joining the Amber navy."

Patrice nods. "Probably. That's better than some of the other possibilities, though: I wouldn't put an attack at sea past some of Amber's enemies. But that's gloomy talk for such a light affair as Her Grace's dinner, Captain." She smiles. "When was your last trip of any length out and what did you notice different about Amber when you came back?"

"We returned from our last voyage a few weeks ago. The boys like to make it back to Amber in time for Carnival, so, as I like to stay in their good graces when I can, I scheduled in some down time," Welsey tells her. "The main thing I've noticed that's different is that there seem to be more opportunties than usual for me to get myself tangled in dark plots, which in turn get me the attention of some of the King's children."

Because she is well-bred, there is no audible accompaniment to the quirk at the corner of Patrice's mouth.

"It's almost enough to make me think about skipping Carnival next year, no matter how much the crew grumbles about it." He downs what remains of his drink in one swift motion. "I suppose though that that hardly qualifies as less gloomy than what we were talking about before."

"I think your crew would be very gloomy. How exciting for you this year, though. I never get invited to dark plots, just sewing circles and the occasional ball or dinner party," Patrice says drily. "But we can change the subject to something lighter. My good-sister has taken a liking to Miss Frewin, who will be joining us the tour of the Raptor. What do you make of her?"

"I think her charming naivete is going to get her into trouble, especially around here. Amber is hardly the calm part of the ocean, even for those of us who can swim. She seemed like a nice girl though, so I hope she can steer clear of the wrong element." He looks around the room at the assembled guests, then smiles one of those wry smiles. "Assuming it's not already too late, of course."

Patrice laughs. "I suspect we'll also see her and her mother at Princess Florimel's ball. If Miss Frewin hasn't met enough of the wrong element here, she'll certainly meet it there. I look forward to it, actually. Her mother only thinks I'm acceptable because of the blue in my blood. I can only imagine what she'll have to say about some of our truly eccentric friends. Have you had the pleasure of meeting Lady Frewin yet?"

"I've managed to avoid that particular pleasure, though I did feel someone trying to bore a hole in my skull with their gaze while I was talking to Miss Frewin, so I suspect she was around," Wesley tells her. "Is she as bad as I suspect?"

"She has very decided ideas about propriety," Patrice says blandly. "I suspect the more worldly at court will find her a bit, ah, provincial in her tastes. Fortunately for you, that means that wobbly characters such as yourself will be spared solicitations for the hand of either Miss Frewin or Lady Frewin herself. Since outfitting Lady Frewin according to her taste might take more than the Captain's share of the richest of prizes on a regular basis, I think you should consider yourself well shut of the possibility." Patrice smiles toothily at Wesley.

"I'm relieved to hear it, and will cancel, or at least postpone, my plans to flee Amber," he assures her. "On a related topic though, has your sister-in-law picked out a suitable match for you yet? I've gotten the impression that she's prone to such thing."

Patrice takes a sip of her drink as she considers her reply.

"If Her Grace has a gentleman in mind, she has neglected to inform me so far. She likes excitement, but even she doesn't like as much excitement as pressing a suitor on me is likely to provoke." Patrice's tone remains unchanged from that she used to describe Lady Frewin.

"Ah....I'll hope that she thinks things through then before deciding to make you her latest project," Wesley replies, giving her a somewhat odd look. "There's already more excitment around here than most of us would like."

"I shall endeavor not to produce any myself, then." Patrice's smile relaxes to its more toothily genuine natural state. "Fortunately for all parties, I think Her Grace's efforts are likely to turn in the direction of finding Miss Frewin a suitable mate."

"Maybe she'll meet with more success now that she's trying to match someone who actually wants to be matched, and I'm sure my friend Miss Darcy will be glad to hear that Her Grace has a new target for her efforts," he says. "Have you had a chance to meet Elyssa yet?"

"Her Grace introduced us while she was planning this party. We visited her shop and saw some very impressive jewelry-work; in fact, I asked her to repair an old piece of mine based on her inventory. She did a lovely job," Patrice replies.

"I had gathered that Miss Darcy was the target of some my good-sister's matrimonial instincts."

"Yes, though I think in Elyssa's opinion they're not very good instincts," Wesley says.

Patrice arches her eyebrows.

Then Wesley checks behind him, as if realizing that the Duchess could be standing nearby. "I suppose Lady Juliana means well though."

"Of course she does. I am given to understand that she favors a match between Prince Gerard and Miss Darcy." Patrice says, trailing the sentence off in sort of an inquiring lift.

Wesley laughs. "So Elyssa has said, though I don't think she's taken with the idea of marrying one of the Royal family. Or anyone at all, as far as that goes."

"A stand with which I sympathize, and I shall support her in it if she asks my opinion." Patrice sounds happier about that than she has about anything else in this romance discussion.

"I do believe I see my good-sister asking me for a rescue from a dowager in full sail. I'm needed to man the guns and repel boarders. Captain Hobart, it has been my pleasure, and I look forward to seeing the Raptor." She offers her hand to Wesley in farewell.

The good Captain takes her hand and bows slighly over it. "It was a pleasure meeting you as well, Lady Pinegar," he says with a smile. "I wish you well on your rescue mission. For my part, I will seek safer waters."

-- Main.GingerStampley - 22 Apr 2005