Starting Fresh
Jan. 15th, 2012 11:29 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
intheheartTitle: Starting Fresh
Rating: PG-13 for swearing.
Summary: Olivia makes a friend and worries.
AU: EPIC PIRATE AU
Notes: Some of Olivia's backstory here. More later. Please tell me if the infodump is too much. Olivia's side of Fresh Start.
It was so nice to have her mother gone.
It was a horribly disloyal thought to have, and a sin to top it, but there it was. Olivia was glad that her mother had gone to London with her lover. She treasured the time alone, for one. The servants were all gone home-- no need to stay only for their mistress's despised and usually-ignored daughter-- which meant she could go anywhere and do anything she pleased.
To a point, anyway.
She could not, for example, eat whatever she pleased; her mother and the cook kept careful watch over the pantry, and what she took would be noticed. Nor could she go anywhere too scandalous; there were a thousand eyes in Plymouth, all of them watching avidly for the local knight's whore or her daughter. Yvonne, who made no secret of what she was, did not care what they said about her, but woe betide Olivia should she cause any talk.
Oh well. Olivia didn't really want to go to a pub or to the docks, anyway-- she would only be stared at. Some days she did go walking along the shore, watching the sea come crashing down on the rocks, but no one could find fault with that. And some days she stayed inside, filched some tea leaves, and spent hours reading in the tiny library her mother's lover had collected.
He bought the books only to look learned and wise; he never read them, and had said as much to Olivia's face. Besides, he was a jolly old soul. She didn't think he'd mind if she stole a few hours of pleasure between their pages.
Not today, though. Reading was for dark and rainy days, days when storms pounded the English coast and Olivia felt disinclined to even leave her bed. Today, she would venture out beneath the brilliant sun and visit a friend, the first real friend she had had since she left her father's house.
She hummed a little to herself as she packed a basket full of fresh apples, bread and cheese-- Jake's resources were strained enough that she would not impose on him, not even for a light dinner. But she would go and sit in his dim little shop full of wonders, talk and laugh with him, and pretend for a little while that she was just like any other girl on a sunny afternoon with no chores to do. Just for today, she could be normal.
The sun was so bright after the dark, dank kitchen with its banked fire that Olivia had to stand for a moment, blinking rapidly until the sunspots cleared and she could see again. Laid out on the shore below her house, Plymouth sparkled in the sun, clean for once after the rains of the night before. People moved back and forth in the bright morning, talking and laughing, attending markets. She gathered up her skirts in her free hand and started down the hill at a brisk pace, towards the rest of the town.
The talk and laughter quieted as she passed, then started up again, brisker than before. They were talking about her, she knew-- the whore's daughter, probably a whore herself. She tried not to pay attention, tried to keep her mood light in spite of it. She should be used to it by now.
And anyway, she was going to visit Jake, and he didn't care who her mother was. He knew who she was, and that was enough for him.
Still the talk followed her, hunching her shoulders and setting her cheeks ablaze. Olivia put her head down and sped up a little. The sooner she got to Jake's the sooner she would feel happy again. The sooner she got to Jake's, the sooner she would feel better. The sooner she got to Jake's...
She stepped briskly up onto the little wooden bridge that led toward Jake's shop, and collided with another woman.
For one terrifying moment she thought it was her mother, back early from London-- the clothes were fine enough and the hair a similar shade of blonde. But no, her mother would never have gasped in shock, never have stooped to pick up the apples that had fallen from her basket, never have apologized in breathless tones. Olivia dropped her eyes, because this was still certainly a lady, and mumbled an apology of her own.
Then a familiar voice said, "Gina," in tones heavy with disapproval, and Olivia looked up, startled. Summer?
"We really have to go," the girl continued, and yes, it was Summer, the little redheaded daughter and sister of pirates, who'd haunted Jake's shop all last winter telling stories of her family. Like Jake, Summer was one of the few who dared public disapproval by refusing to pretend Olivia didn't exist. "We... oh, hello, Olivia."
"Hello, Summer," Olivia replied, feeling better just for the acknowledgment. "Jake didn't say you were back."
"We only just got in," Summer said, and shrugged. "I haven't told him yet. Are you going there?"
"Yes," Olivia said, and because Summer was still looking at her as if some sort of explanation was required, lifted her basket a little bit. Heat spread across her cheeks again. "I thought... My mother has gone to London for a month or so, and I've nothing to do when my chores are finished." Not that she'd done too many today. She didn't usually bother with much when her mother wasn't around to avoid. "I thought I'd bring him lunch."
"He'll like that," Summer said, obliviously. "Will you take Gina there, please? I need to go home."
That must be the blonde lady. Olivia turned to her and got her first good look. She was tall, with porcelain skin only slightly gilded by the sun, blue-eyed and lovely, a perfect English rose. What someone like that was doing with Summer's piratical family, she had no idea. "I... I suppose so," she faltered.
"Good," Summer said, as if it was all decided, then turned and plunged down the side street that would take her home, leaving the two of them standing on the bridge.
The lady sighed impatiently, muttered something under her breath, then said, "I’m Gina Caravecchio. I sail with Summer's sister, now."
Ah, yes. The frightening captain who sold her things to Jake. Olivia couldn't tell if they adored or hated each other.
"Olivia Marhenke," she replied, hoping no one had yet mentioned her mother. "I... I know Jake, I suppose. He's a friend. I've only met Captain Hirschfeld-Kendall once or twice, though."
Miss Caravecchio smiled. "She's lovely," she said. Olivia must have worn an interesting expression about then, because the lady added, "But a little overwhelming at times, I grant. Particularly if she wants something."
Olivia devoutly hoped that Captain Hirschfeld-Kendall never wanted anything from her. "I don't think she ever wanted something from me," she replied, playing nervously with her basket. "I think... I think she... well, she's nice enough, I suppose. I just don't know many people like her."
"There aren't many people like her," the lady replied, and wasn't that the Lord's own truth. "Well. Shall we?"
"Of course," Olivia said, but her feet seemed stuck to the bridge. The lady was so beautiful, exactly the kind of person that someone like Jake deserved, and... and once Jake saw her, why would he want to spend any time with Olivia anymore? Next to this beauty, she must look like a drab little sparrow in poorly sewn clothes. Before she could stop herself, she blurted, "Miss Caravecchio, I hope you don't... that you won't... Jake is my friend."
Miss Caravecchio stared at her for a moment, then blinked, as if she'd suddenly understood. "Oh, no," she said. "I won't do anything to come between the two of you, I promise. I... I have someone else, you see."
Olivia flushed, wondering how much she'd given away by accident, and tried to cover. "Oh, I didn't mean... I'm sorry. It's just that I don't have that many friends, and I don't... I don't want to lose any."
Or to be more precise, she had one friend, and she didn't want to lose him. To anything.
"You won't on my account," Miss Caravecchio said. "In fact, I hope you'll consider me a friend. If you need to."
Olivia stared at her, unable to believe her ears. Had she actually offered... she must not know. She couldn't.
And Olivia would not be the one to tell her. Not yet. Not when Miss Caravecchio was being so kind.
"I... thank you," she stammered. "I... Jake's shop is this way." She turned away, trying to hide her blush, and stepped carefully off the bridge, heading for Jake's shop.
This would end soon enough, she told herself. Her mother would come back from London, or someone would tell Miss Caravecchio who she was, and no matter what the Kendalls said, a lady like that wouldn't want to spend any time with Olivia.
She'd enjoy it while she could, she decided, and turned to make certain Miss Caravecchio was following.
Rating: PG-13 for swearing.
Summary: Olivia makes a friend and worries.
AU: EPIC PIRATE AU
Notes: Some of Olivia's backstory here. More later. Please tell me if the infodump is too much. Olivia's side of Fresh Start.
It was so nice to have her mother gone.
It was a horribly disloyal thought to have, and a sin to top it, but there it was. Olivia was glad that her mother had gone to London with her lover. She treasured the time alone, for one. The servants were all gone home-- no need to stay only for their mistress's despised and usually-ignored daughter-- which meant she could go anywhere and do anything she pleased.
To a point, anyway.
She could not, for example, eat whatever she pleased; her mother and the cook kept careful watch over the pantry, and what she took would be noticed. Nor could she go anywhere too scandalous; there were a thousand eyes in Plymouth, all of them watching avidly for the local knight's whore or her daughter. Yvonne, who made no secret of what she was, did not care what they said about her, but woe betide Olivia should she cause any talk.
Oh well. Olivia didn't really want to go to a pub or to the docks, anyway-- she would only be stared at. Some days she did go walking along the shore, watching the sea come crashing down on the rocks, but no one could find fault with that. And some days she stayed inside, filched some tea leaves, and spent hours reading in the tiny library her mother's lover had collected.
He bought the books only to look learned and wise; he never read them, and had said as much to Olivia's face. Besides, he was a jolly old soul. She didn't think he'd mind if she stole a few hours of pleasure between their pages.
Not today, though. Reading was for dark and rainy days, days when storms pounded the English coast and Olivia felt disinclined to even leave her bed. Today, she would venture out beneath the brilliant sun and visit a friend, the first real friend she had had since she left her father's house.
She hummed a little to herself as she packed a basket full of fresh apples, bread and cheese-- Jake's resources were strained enough that she would not impose on him, not even for a light dinner. But she would go and sit in his dim little shop full of wonders, talk and laugh with him, and pretend for a little while that she was just like any other girl on a sunny afternoon with no chores to do. Just for today, she could be normal.
The sun was so bright after the dark, dank kitchen with its banked fire that Olivia had to stand for a moment, blinking rapidly until the sunspots cleared and she could see again. Laid out on the shore below her house, Plymouth sparkled in the sun, clean for once after the rains of the night before. People moved back and forth in the bright morning, talking and laughing, attending markets. She gathered up her skirts in her free hand and started down the hill at a brisk pace, towards the rest of the town.
The talk and laughter quieted as she passed, then started up again, brisker than before. They were talking about her, she knew-- the whore's daughter, probably a whore herself. She tried not to pay attention, tried to keep her mood light in spite of it. She should be used to it by now.
And anyway, she was going to visit Jake, and he didn't care who her mother was. He knew who she was, and that was enough for him.
Still the talk followed her, hunching her shoulders and setting her cheeks ablaze. Olivia put her head down and sped up a little. The sooner she got to Jake's the sooner she would feel happy again. The sooner she got to Jake's, the sooner she would feel better. The sooner she got to Jake's...
She stepped briskly up onto the little wooden bridge that led toward Jake's shop, and collided with another woman.
For one terrifying moment she thought it was her mother, back early from London-- the clothes were fine enough and the hair a similar shade of blonde. But no, her mother would never have gasped in shock, never have stooped to pick up the apples that had fallen from her basket, never have apologized in breathless tones. Olivia dropped her eyes, because this was still certainly a lady, and mumbled an apology of her own.
Then a familiar voice said, "Gina," in tones heavy with disapproval, and Olivia looked up, startled. Summer?
"We really have to go," the girl continued, and yes, it was Summer, the little redheaded daughter and sister of pirates, who'd haunted Jake's shop all last winter telling stories of her family. Like Jake, Summer was one of the few who dared public disapproval by refusing to pretend Olivia didn't exist. "We... oh, hello, Olivia."
"Hello, Summer," Olivia replied, feeling better just for the acknowledgment. "Jake didn't say you were back."
"We only just got in," Summer said, and shrugged. "I haven't told him yet. Are you going there?"
"Yes," Olivia said, and because Summer was still looking at her as if some sort of explanation was required, lifted her basket a little bit. Heat spread across her cheeks again. "I thought... My mother has gone to London for a month or so, and I've nothing to do when my chores are finished." Not that she'd done too many today. She didn't usually bother with much when her mother wasn't around to avoid. "I thought I'd bring him lunch."
"He'll like that," Summer said, obliviously. "Will you take Gina there, please? I need to go home."
That must be the blonde lady. Olivia turned to her and got her first good look. She was tall, with porcelain skin only slightly gilded by the sun, blue-eyed and lovely, a perfect English rose. What someone like that was doing with Summer's piratical family, she had no idea. "I... I suppose so," she faltered.
"Good," Summer said, as if it was all decided, then turned and plunged down the side street that would take her home, leaving the two of them standing on the bridge.
The lady sighed impatiently, muttered something under her breath, then said, "I’m Gina Caravecchio. I sail with Summer's sister, now."
Ah, yes. The frightening captain who sold her things to Jake. Olivia couldn't tell if they adored or hated each other.
"Olivia Marhenke," she replied, hoping no one had yet mentioned her mother. "I... I know Jake, I suppose. He's a friend. I've only met Captain Hirschfeld-Kendall once or twice, though."
Miss Caravecchio smiled. "She's lovely," she said. Olivia must have worn an interesting expression about then, because the lady added, "But a little overwhelming at times, I grant. Particularly if she wants something."
Olivia devoutly hoped that Captain Hirschfeld-Kendall never wanted anything from her. "I don't think she ever wanted something from me," she replied, playing nervously with her basket. "I think... I think she... well, she's nice enough, I suppose. I just don't know many people like her."
"There aren't many people like her," the lady replied, and wasn't that the Lord's own truth. "Well. Shall we?"
"Of course," Olivia said, but her feet seemed stuck to the bridge. The lady was so beautiful, exactly the kind of person that someone like Jake deserved, and... and once Jake saw her, why would he want to spend any time with Olivia anymore? Next to this beauty, she must look like a drab little sparrow in poorly sewn clothes. Before she could stop herself, she blurted, "Miss Caravecchio, I hope you don't... that you won't... Jake is my friend."
Miss Caravecchio stared at her for a moment, then blinked, as if she'd suddenly understood. "Oh, no," she said. "I won't do anything to come between the two of you, I promise. I... I have someone else, you see."
Olivia flushed, wondering how much she'd given away by accident, and tried to cover. "Oh, I didn't mean... I'm sorry. It's just that I don't have that many friends, and I don't... I don't want to lose any."
Or to be more precise, she had one friend, and she didn't want to lose him. To anything.
"You won't on my account," Miss Caravecchio said. "In fact, I hope you'll consider me a friend. If you need to."
Olivia stared at her, unable to believe her ears. Had she actually offered... she must not know. She couldn't.
And Olivia would not be the one to tell her. Not yet. Not when Miss Caravecchio was being so kind.
"I... thank you," she stammered. "I... Jake's shop is this way." She turned away, trying to hide her blush, and stepped carefully off the bridge, heading for Jake's shop.
This would end soon enough, she told herself. Her mother would come back from London, or someone would tell Miss Caravecchio who she was, and no matter what the Kendalls said, a lady like that wouldn't want to spend any time with Olivia.
She'd enjoy it while she could, she decided, and turned to make certain Miss Caravecchio was following.
