12. Jonto
Jonto
Since neither Isla’s former steward nor her missing shepherd showed up on Jonto’s doorstep, something that surprised her since she thought they’d want to vilify Isla in her eyes, a fortnight after the fête, Jonto sent two of her sailors into the city to quietly find them.
Specifically, she wanted to know where and when they went to drink and what days their favorite pub had the largest crowds.
At the same time, she visited Judge Riordan’s offices and hired him to do some discreet digging into recent transactions in the county.
James, who thoroughly enjoyed research of any kind, happily accepted the challenge.
He set to work immediately and recruited his clerk, Fornette, and Celie to assist. Fornette he sent on a trip to the nearest neighboring town to research the legal records.
He set Celie the task of taking tea with the various scandal mongers and busybodies who knew all of the local gossip, particularly about the private lives of others.
Five days later, the judge sent Fornette to deliver an eight-page report on what they’d learned.
On the morning of the sixth, the two pirates arrived to recount their discoveries of the past few days.
Only a few of her ships’ crews had visited her estates; those that had moved her furniture in, the two shepherds, Nico, of course, a couple of hostlers, and the captain of one of her frigates.
That captain, Kozma Vilmos, was a burly, hairy-armed man in his mid-fifties.
After he’d been sliced from his collarbone to his ribcage during their last battle, he’d told her he was ready to retire from the sea.
Kozma was an excellent leader and organizer and had grown up working for his father, who’d managed an earl’s estates.
Jonto had settled him in the caretaker’s lodge and made him her assistant steward working under Nico—a positive outcome all around.
Jonto set aside her paperwork when Nico brought the two sailors into her office.
Truthfully, everything about the mansion was ostentatious.
If there were anything Jonto would change, it would be the thirty-room mansion.
She had to shut off two-thirds of the rooms out of necessity, not yet having decided how best to utilize them.
Her office was no exception to the excessive opulence displayed throughout the home.
The mansion had come with many of Count Deverell’s belongings since he’d had no heirs.
Deep emerald green, damask wallpaper covered the walls from the ceiling down to the raised panel wainscoting.
Large, ornate mirrors hung on two of the four walls, and as a nod to being the estate’s new owner, Jonto had hung several oil paintings of sailing ships she’d collected over the years.
There were changes she intended to make, but she’d been too busy to sell or give away the old pieces of furniture.
When she’d first arrived, several of her favorite furnishings had come ashore with her. Unfortunately, the old count’s belongings were numerous and garish, and she intended to replace them with items she hadn’t yet brought to the little kingdom.
Four dark green wingback chairs were clustered around a low coffee table to the right side of the room.
Several large maroon-and-green-patterned area rugs covered the polished wooden floor, and a built-in floor-to-ceiling bookcase held more books than Jonto could read in a year, even if the books had been of subjects that interested her.
Unfortunately, a brief perusal of the titles had uncovered topics such as the great London plague, the history of Christendom, and innumerable volumes containing parliamentary debates.
Most were destined for the town library or, if they were particularly onerous, the estate’s midden heap.
One of the sailors, Paddy, pulled off his cap and held it in front of his chest. He didn’t seem able to pull his gaze away from the room’s furnishings.
“Blimey, Cap’n. Ain’t never been in a place like this, well, ‘cept to steal stuff, and then I weren’t lookin’ round fer nothin’ ‘cept what I were gonna nab.”
It had been precisely because of Paddy’s less than honest skillset, particularly that of being able to move about without drawing untoward attention to himself, that Jonto had set him and his mate to tracking the two men.
She sat back and rubbed the back of her neck.
“Do you remember I said no one talks about stealing, fighting, or killing when you’re in town or when townspeople are on board Jest? ”
“It’s just us, so I thought it were okay.”
Slowly raising her gaze to meet his, she snarled, “It’s not.”
He quickly looked down at his boots. “Sorry, Cap’n. Won’t happen again.”
“It had better not, Paddy. You know what happens to people who disobey my orders.” Early on, Jonto had learned to be brutal but fair in her dealings with her pirates.
It was what they understood, and as long as they knew what to expect when they broke the rules, she heard no complaints when her discipline landed with predictable, painful, and often bloody results.
For good measure, she added, “And God help you or anyone else who comes to the city and steals anything from anyone. Look at me, Paddy.” The man had grown up an orphan on the streets of London and, of necessity, had become an accomplished burglar and pickpocket by the time he’d reached his seventh birthday.
She waited for him to meet her gaze, and when he did, she narrowed her eyes and growled, “Understood?”
“Aye, Cap’n. Understood.” The fear in his eyes told her more than his words, and when she looked into the other man’s pale face, she knew she’d gotten her point across. Her ability to rule over the captains and crews of ten ships was grounded in two truths—she was fair but ruthless when crossed.
“Report.”
“We couldn’t find ‘em fer days, but then we seen ‘em skulkin’ down th’ street like. We followed ‘em, and it weren’t ‘till two days ago they went into a pub. It were a fleabag drinkin’ hole called Th’ Dangerous Dog.”
“Where is it? Are they there now?”
“Down a alley off Peckhorn Way. And yeah, they was there when we left t’ come tell ya. We didn’t come tell ya right quick ‘cuz ya told us t’ see when it’s most full of folk. Th’ place stays busy most days, like, an’ it’s full’a mostly folk what grew up ‘round here.”
Today, Jonto had dressed to visit the Enigma Club, but she stood and motioned to her drinks cabinet.
“I need to go change. Help yourselves.” She held up a finger.
“One drink each. I’ve seen what you’re both like when you’ve poured too much rum down your gullets, and I need you in top form in the tavern.
” It was always good to remind them of the rules.
“And, unless you’re with me or one of the captains, first mates, or Nico, where do you do your drinking? ”
The other man, Lucas, answered this time. “Only drink on th’ ship fer th’ first year. After that.…” He shrugged since Jonto had left the answer to that up in the air. She allowed them to drink whenever they docked in a different kingdom, but this one was off-limits for drunken excess.
“Exactly.” She left them to it, strode from the office, and called, “Nico.”
After a few moments, Nico, who’d found his heaven in the mansion’s fully stocked library, stuck his head around the corner. “I’m in here.”
“Count me astonished. Tell Drew to saddle four horses. Then change into some old clothes. We’re going into the city to a grungy tavern. Wear your extra knives.” Since they both wore their swords every time they ventured from the estates, wearing them was a given.
It didn’t take long for Nico to deliver the message, and when he returned, he found Jonto reading over the report the judge had prepared. As Nico approached, she set the papers on a hall table and joined him. “Ready?”
Their individual suites were on the second floor, and Nico followed Jonto up the stairs.
They disappeared into their respective rooms, reemerging a short time later, dressed in considerably shabbier clothes.
Nico wore his sailor’s knee-length breeches and loose-fitting, long-sleeved linen shirt.
Jonto, on the other hand, wore tight, black, rough leather pants and a dark gray tunic.
She had two knives visible on her sword belt and two more tucked in the top of her knee-high leather boots.
When she and Nico walked back into the office, the two sailors were standing next to the bar.
Each held a tumbler of rum, and when they saw Jonto, they quickly tossed back what was left of their drinks.
Paddy wiped his mouth on the back of his sleeve and grinned.
“Had some of yer Barbados rum, Cap’n. Tasted a far sight better than what we got on th’ ship, that’s fer sure. ”
Jonto had to agree with the man. “It’s definitely smoother. If I could afford it, I’d serve it aboard every ship, but as it stands, I feel guilty paying what I did for that one bottle. I’m glad you had a taste of it, though. Every man should try it at least once in his life.”
Paddy elbowed his friend. “Told ya. He takes care of us, does our Cap’n.” He turned back to Jonto. “Lucas thought ye’d be riled up ’bout us drinkin’ it.”
With a shrug, Jonto started for the front of the mansion and said over her shoulder, “I did say to help yourself. The Barbados is some of the oldest and best rum on the market today.” They had to wait a while on the front steps, but eventually, the hostler and his stable lad led four horses up the circular drive from the stables.
When she’d first sailed up to the opening in the bay, there had been a line of men and women hoping Jonto would hire the staff she’d need to run her estates from the local populace.
She hadn’t been inclined to do so, however, until she’d lived in the city for a while and knew who could be trusted and who to avoid.