Pirates and Peonies

1. From Old to New

© 2013, Chenille Whitehead. Except as provided by the Copyright Act 1956 no part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system or transmitted in any form or by any means without the prior written permission of the publisher

1. From Old to New

"Are you coming, dear?" A voice floated up to Cecily from below, "We do not want to keep your father waiting."

Cecily sighed and glanced back at the mirror to scrutinise her reflection once more. She was not satisfied by what she was seeing. Dark circles surrounded her deep green eyes, and her face, which had always been pale, seemed to be even more so today. Sleep had been evading her these last few weeks and it was really beginning to show. She gently twisted a tendril of hair around her finger. The elaborate tower that her maid had fashioned on top of her head, was slowly falling apart. No amount of pins could tame her unruly auburn locks, and she wondered why people continued to try. Her hair refused to conform to anyone's desires, no matter how long you spent grooming it.

"Cecily! The carriage is outside the door. We need to leave now!"

Sighing once again, Cecily tore her gaze from her reflection and headed down the cold marble staircase to her mother who was waiting for her in the hallway. Her hands were clasped tightly to her skirts and her small bow-shaped lips were pursed in anxiety. Cecily could tell that her mother was just as stressed as she was right then, but her mother would never admit it and certainly not to her father. Her eyes, the same shade of green as her own, were creased with worry as she gestured for Cecily to follow her along the dimly lit corridor.

A servant closed the door behind them, as the two women stepped outside the house and onto the street. There was a cool wind in the air and their skirts billowed slightly as they made their way across to the carriage. A tall, greying man in his late forties got out to greet them.

"Rosemary, you look beautiful!" he exclaimed to Cecily's mother, as they neared him.

Cecily's father kissed her mother on the cheek before handing her inside the carriage.

"And you, too, my dear." He smiled at Cecily, "Pink is a lovely colour on you, and I swear you look more and more like your mother each day."

"Good evening, father" Cecily only half-smiled as she clambered inside the coach next to her mother, ignoring the hand offered to her.

Cecily's father sighed audibly as he closed the door behind them and sat across from the two ladies. He looked especially tired that evening, she noticed. His right eye was twitching slightly, something it only did when he was under intense pressure, and his neckerchief was slightly askew. Cecily desperately wanted to reach over and fix it, but she refrained from doing so. She was unhappy with him and she wanted him to know it.

After a minute, the carriage started to move down the street towards the town's centre, and Cecily stared gloomily out of the window savouring the sights of the busy neighbourhood she'd lived in all her life. She still couldn't quite grasp that soon she would be leaving all of this behind.

"Cecily, you need to stop disrespecting your father." her mother nudged her gently with her arm. "The decisions that he makes on behalf of this family, are in our best interests."

"Can you not understand that?" her father added, searching for her gaze wearily from the shadows.

"No, father, I cannot." Cecily pursed her lips into a fine line and glared at him for a brief moment before returning her gaze to the darkening streets outside. She did not understand at all.

How could it be in their best interest to leave their home, their friends, and everything they have ever known to go and live on some distant Island in the Caribbean? How could that possibly be beneficial to them? No-one in their right minds would want to leave civilisation and live in some hot, disease-ridden country where there is no society, just thousands of slaves.

She had heard much about the lands across the ocean, and what she had heard had terrified her. It was a dangerous world outside of England. There were ongoing battles for New World territory between the British and the rest of Europe, and not to mention the bloodthirsty pirates that patrolled the seas, stealing treasures and sinking ships for their own gain. The latter were uncontrollable, merciless bandits. She had even heard that some were guilty of cannibalism. Cecily had been shaken awake by her maid more than a few times, as a result of their terrifying antics haunting her dreams.

Her father did not share her reservations and argued that there was a lot of money to be made out in the Caribbean and that it was a great opportunity to bring glory to their family name. He'd told her that the King himself had written, asking him to give up his position in Parliament and instead oversee the running of the new plantations that had been built over on Jamaica. They would be given a handsome wage, a beautiful manor and anything they could possibly desire. They would essentially be in charge of the entire Island, all eleven million hectors of it. Ruling on the King's behalf; enforcing British law. This was a chance for their family to earn prestige. In fact, all going well, her father hoped he would be knighted within the next decade.

"Think of it as an adventure!" he had said at the harbour the week before, staring longingly out across ocean, as if all his dreams were to be answered by this "royal mission". He'd broken the news to her, expecting her to be as excited as he was, thrilled at the prospect of setting off to unknown lands and leaving all of their friends behind. But how could she be? She remembered thinking that he was just jesting. Who in their right mind would even consider leaving high society in England?

She had thought her father had gone mad, and that her mother would never agree to go. Surely her mother would not be able to fathom giving up her luxuries, parties and circle of friends? Indeed, at first she was displeased with her husband's decision to relocate them, but Rosemary was rather passive and usually let Hector do whatever he wished, trusting that he always knew best. Besides, it gave her something to talk about at dinner parties. Apparently everyone was envious of their good fortune and moving across the ocean was all the rage. Everyone wanted to be in their position...everyone but Cecily.

After a few minutes, the town hall came into sight. Cecily straightened her shoulders as the carriage came to a halt. If this was to be her last ball, she was going to make sure to have a good time. She wanted to remember this night for years to come.