The honorable judge read the sentence:
*"Upon the morrow, thou shall be hanged by the neck till death. May God have mercy on your soul."*
Miss Fortune looked at the judge. Cold and emotionless ice filled her eyes. Then she looked at Ivy Valentine, the pompous duchess who masqueraded as a privateer for the Crown. Her eyes turned to fire and brimstone at the sight of her smiling at the reading of the sentence, with every fiber in her being disdaining her very existence. Their eyes met for a moment, and the duchess gave her a cruel smile. Her sharp green eyes emanated pleasure at the verdict.
She took everything from her. Her ship, her crew, her future.
Fortune knew this was part of the game; a part of the life she lived. They had just offloaded a large load of contraband into the London port. Routine as ever. Guns, stolen gold and jewelry, art pieces. But upon leaving port, and less than one nautical mile away, the distinctive ship of the duchess was upon them. Like a wraith in the fog.
She woke from her daydream found herself being cuffed and aggressively bustled out the back door of the courtroom by two armed guards. Torches lit the dark windowless hallways where no daylight could find.
The cell was small. Eight by eight feet and filled with nothing other than a night pail and small cot that hung off chains from the wall. It was covered with this linen and a small pillow. The bars were thick and sturdy. Upon being locked in and left alone, she kicked the pail, yelling in anger. She sat down dejectedly on the cot, rolled over, and tried to sleep. She tried to sleep but the tears came first.
---
The clanging of metal on metal woke her. The lack of moonlight or sunlight made it impossible for her to know the time. Rubbing the sleep from her eyes, she saw that a hooded figure that stood on the other side of the bars was hooded and carrying a torch.
"Come here," the hooded figure beckoned. It was a female voice.
Fortune got off her cot slowly, and made her way cautiously to the bars. There was a chance it was an assassin, she thought to herself, and it would pay to be careful here.
"Who are you and what do you want?" Fortune said in a almost defiant tone.
"That's no way to talk to someone giving you your freedom," the voice replied, coldly.
The voice sounded familiar---it chilled her. And then she saw it. The light from the torch reflected on the distinctive green eyes of the mysterious visitor.
It was the duchess.
"You fucking, bitch! What makes you think I could come with you! You took everything from me!" Fortune screamed.
"You'd best keep your voice down, you ungrateful whore. The guards are gone but only for a time. Put this on." Ivy threw a dark woolen cloak at her.
This took Fortune off guard. Why would the artisan of her demise *save *her?
The silence was broken by the metallic grating sound of a key turning inside the keylock. Ivy extended her hand invitingly towards her.
Fortune gave pause. It was hard to consider a worse path that this would lead her to than that of which faced her tomorrow: hanged until dead. She accepted the hand, and the pair hastened down the hallway.
"This changes nothing," Fortune whispered.
"I know."
---
It wasn't until the two were on horseback, cantering through the streets, that Fortune felt like she could breathe at all again. The two didn't share a word until they had completely withdrawn from the city, and even then, the pair was mostly mute.
Dawn was breaking as they entered the Valentine estate, and two riders rode up and flanked them, escorting them further into the grounds. They were large men, wearing similar uniforms sporting the Valentine crest. They crested the hill where the great house was nestled, adorned with well-maintained hedges and grounds. In the light of dawn, the estate looked beautiful. The castle was as ostentatious as one would expect befitting a duchess. Servants rushed out the front door to meet them. They dismounted, handing off the horse to a young servant girl.
The house was dark when they entered. Ivy began barking orders to the small ensemble of servants in the front foyer. They began to frantically light candles. Some were sent to the kitchen to prepare food.
"Elizabeth. Mary. Come here," Ivy said authoritatively. The two beckoned servants moved into position. They were both with dirty blonde hair, young, thin, and eager to please.
"Please take Fortune to the master bedroom and prepare her a bath," said Ivy.
"Yes, your grace," the girls said in unison.
Fortune followed them, casting a glance back at Ivy that was a mixture of hatred and uncertainty. The hallways leading to the master bedroom were ornately decorated, with expensive paintings and candle fixtures adorning the walls. Fortune had scoffed when, at the top of the staircase landing, was a large painted portrait of Ivy on her horse.
The bedroom was comprised of soft and soothing grays and silvers. A large crystal chandelier dangled over the bed. The carpet was plush silvery gray that felt indescribably soft under Fortune's feet. Multiple mirrors adorned the walls. The tone's reminded Fortune of a warm gray storm cloud she was would often encounter at sea, and it made her yearn for those days. The sunlight was attempting to pierce through the heavy silver gray curtains.
The servants led her into the bathroom, clearly excited in the presence of their new guest. The smooth granite floors felt soft and inviting under her feet as she made her way to the free standing tub in the center of the bathroom. It was flawless white porcelain, embroidered with elegant gold leaves that wrapped around the tub. A fireplace roared on the left side of the room which gave warm respite after a long, cold night on horseback. She had sea legs; horseback riding was foreign and her body ached in response to it.
One of the servants, Mary, went to go fetch hot water for the tub. Elizabeth, the remaining servant, stood there awkwardly with Fortune while they waited.
"So...are you the new bed warmer for her grace" Elizabeth said, breaking the silence.
"Bed warmer? What on earth is that?" Fortune said, half confused.
"Oh, you must not be from around here," Elizabeth giggled. "You will share a bed with her grace, keeping her warm at night."
"She has not...mentioned this. I will be doing no such thing," Fortune replied, understandingly but affronted.
"Mistress, you must do what your grace commands!" Elizabeth admonished her.
Before she could give it too much more thought, Mary and several other servants came back with bucket's of steaming water.
"Go on, mistress. Get in," Elizabeth said, looking at her as she gestured with her hands towards the tub.
"I suppose I need it."