C5 Chapter 1-5

The brash knock of knuckle upon wood interrupted Diane’s thoughts. She lowered her hand from the glass and straightened the creases in her dress. “Come in.”

The door squealed open, followed by the quick clips of her father’s cane as he made his way into the room. “Mister Woodes is here. I would very much like you to meet him.”

“I am not interested.” Diane interrupted, returning her attention to the fogged window.

Her father’s brow furrowed in detest of her daughter’s remark. He leaned heavily on his cane as his hand balled into a fist at his side. “He would very much like a word…”

“I’m not interested.” Diane repeated, brushing the strands of hair from her face. “If you would, please, I would like to be left to my thoughts.”

“He would like a word with you.” The bitter words left her father’s lips in a disgruntled huff. He turned to the man in the doorway, offering a look of apology for his daughter’s behavior. “I do believe you should listen to what he as to say.”

Diane remained silent, shifting uneasily beside the window. She ran her hands along the silk of her dress, each index fidgeting along the woven patterns.

Her father sighed in detest. He released the firm grip of his fist and hobbled towards his daughter. Placing his arm around her shoulder, he whispered in her ears: “I know you don’t wish for this interaction. I know you want to be left to yourself. But I implore that you heed what he has to say. It is time to move on, dear. I think you’ll be surprised to find that the pair of you share a common past. So please, darling, hear the man out.”

Diane folded her arms and shook off her father’s embrace. She pursed her lips to detest, but realizing the argument had been lost, remained silent.

Her father shook his head in frustration, turning his attention to Mr. Woodes standing in the doorway. “I apologize for my daughter’s actions.” He offered a half-hearted smile before gesturing for the man to enter.

Mr. Woodes entered the room in two long strides, taking his place at the front of the chamber before surveying the room and admired his surroundings. He nodded his gratitude to Mr. Seegar before clasping his hands behind his back and waited patiently for the old man to leave. “I suppose now would be a proper time for introductions,” Mr Woodes said as the chamber door clicked shut. “But I take it you are not very fond of introductions.”

A small grin grew on Diane’s face as her cheeks burned pink. She hastily unclasped her arms and ran her left hand through her hair to mask her amusement at the man’s remark.

Mr. Woodes’ eyes beamed at the response, knowing he had succeeded in peaking the woman’s attention. He joined in her game, averting his gaze from the embarrassed woman and directing his attention to the bookcase behind him. He leafed through the titles displayed, his fingers running along the leather bindings until it reached a rather large volume. “I suppose we can forgo that part of the interaction,” he continued as he plucked the book from the shelf and cracked it open. “If I am to be honest, I rather detest them too.”

Diane shifted her stance, turning her head just enough to catch a glimpse of the man in her room. He was a tall man; a confident man. He stood proudly, his two long legs planted firmly on the ground. His posture was perfectly straight, yet it wasn’t uncomfortably forced. He was impeccably dressed and groomed, with his pants pressed flat and his face cut clean. He was a younger man marked with the faint lines of wisdom of a man whose youth was fleeting.

“Odd tradition, they are,” he continued, lifting an eye from the book to meet her gaze. “Wouldn’t you say?”

“I don’t have the slightest idea what you mean,” Diane replied, her brooding glare retreating back to the window.

“They are the furthest from introducing oneself. It’s merely an excuse for men to ramble on and gloat about their conquests. It doesn’t give an inkling of an idea as to what kind of person they are.”

“Of course it does,” Diane scoffed.

“Oh?” Mr. Woodes asked, snapping the book shut. “How so?”

“It’s not the meaning of the words but how they are said,” Diane remarked, pushing herself from the window and spinning to face him.

“How they’re said?” Woodes quizzed with a grin. “Please explain.”

“If he gloats proudly and rambles on endlessly, then he is conceited and only cares for themself. If he shrugs off his achievements and passes the conversation off too quickly, then he is weak in confidence and cares too much for the opinions of others.”

“And if they speak humbly of their conquests but heed the other’s words with intent ears? What of them?”

Diane’s brow arched, her eyes narrowing on the man as she studied him intently. “What is it you want, Mr. Woodes? Why play these games? You have yet to state what it is your intent is. What do you want from me? Who am I to you?”

“Companionship.”

“Companionship?” Diane’s head cocked to the side as her arms crossed once more against her chest. “You know nothing about me. I am naught but a stranger to you.”

“I admit we are strangers,” Mr. Woodes said, replacing the book in the proper place back on the shelf behind him. “But I have learned a great deal about you from your father. More so about your past.”

“My past? What does my past have to do with anything?”

“We share a similar story,” Mr. Woodes explained, his hands retreating into his pockets. “I had a wife once. A beautiful woman; quite clever and beyond intelligent.” Mr. Woodes’ feet danced back and forth along the floor. His chin falling closer to his chest as he continued on in his prose. “She passed. Fever befell her, and needless to say, she didn’t make it.”

“I’m sorry to hear that. But I still don’t see how that matters to me. I am not interested in wedding a man whom I know so little of.”

“I am not asking for your hand in marriage, but simply for your ear in counsel. A conduit for my thoughts and an advisor to my decisions.” Mr. Woodes lifted his gaze from the wooden floorboards and began to pace about the room. “Let me tell you another story. A story that hasn’t quite come to pass. You see, I have been offered governorship of a small island in the East. Perhaps you have heard of it: Roebuck Cove.

“It has been territory of the crown for decades, but has fallen from the queen’s control due to bribery and corruption and has since become the birthing grounds for pirates and illicit trade. Words can’t describe how much money is lost by not dealing with this serious problem. This has become a festering thorn in the queen’s foot. Not only are we losing an important trading depot, but it also comes across as a sign of weakness to the enemies of the state. How are we to be looked to with respect if our own territory has been robbed from under by petty thieves?

“I have proposed a plan to take the island back with little to no force. It is quite simple, in fact. We offer pardons to the pirates, bringing them back in favor with the crown. They will go about conducting business on legitimate terms and the goods will continue flowing. It’s the perfect plan.”

“That’s a fine idea, really,” Diane interjected. “But you are barking up the wrong tree, Mr. Woodes. I know very little about politics, let alone of governing, for that matter.”

“I’ll let you in on a secret,” Mr. Woodes replied, spinning on his heels. “None of us have a clue what we are doing. If anyone did, they would never sign on for the job. You are a smart woman, Diane. You have proven as much to me in this little interaction. I’ll fill you in on the important bits and you’ll pick up the rest as you go.”

“You aren’t hearing me, Mr. Woodes. I don’t want to govern. I have no interest in such things. I’m just happy where I am.”

“It’s a fresh start,” Mr. Woodes continued. “For you and me both. I think that is precisely what we need. And your father agrees. I’m not asking for an answer now. Just consider it. Could be quite an adventure, wouldn’t you agree?”