Lesbian Historic Motif Podcast Episode 322 – An Encounter With a Lady by Catherine Lundoff

Friday, August 29, 2025 - 07:00

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Lesbian Historic Motif Podcast - Episode 322 – An Encounter With a Lady by Catherine Lundoff - transcript

(Originally aired 2025/08/29 - listen here)

I’ve greatly enjoyed becoming the home for Catherine Lundoff’s “Jacquotte and Celeste” series, set in the mid 17th century among political turmoil and pirate adventures. This will be the fifth of the stories that I’ve published, with a sixth story available on Catherine’s Patreon. Although the previous installment ended with our adventurers heading back to Paris to be caught up in more royal intrigue, this one circles back toward the beginning of their story. “An Encounter With a Lady” takes place before the first of the stories we published, “One Night in Saint Martin.” So after listening you might enjoy going back to try that episode again. There’s an index of all the fiction episodes at the Alpennia website.

Catherine Lundoff is an award-winning writer, editor and publisher. Her books include Silver Moon, Blood Moon, Out of This World and Unfinished Business and, as editor, Scourge of the Seas of Time (and Space). Her short stories and essays have appeared in such venues as the Lesbian Historic Motif Podcast, Queer Weird Western Stories, Divergent Terror, Sherlock Holmes and the Occult Detectives, Fireside Magazine, Nightmare Magazine, New Edge Sword & Sorcery Magazine and several World of Darkness anthologies and games. She is also the publisher at Queen of Swords Press. You can find more about her work at her website catherinelundoff.net and follow her on Bluesky. See the links in the show notes.

I will be the narrator today.

This recording is released under a Creative Commons Attribution-NonCommercial-NoDerivatives 4.0 International Public License. You may share it in the full original form but you may not sell it, you may not transcribe it, and you may not adapt it.

An Encounter with a Lady

By Catherine Lundoff

Celeste Adele Girard glanced around the ballroom and tried not to look furtive. If there had been one lesson that she had drilled into her head by the Count de Fermé, the King’s late spymaster, it was to always look as if she belonged, no matter what level of society she occupied. Besides, her blonde hair was dyed brown, her clothes were well out of latest fashion and she moved as awkwardly as any young miss taken out of a convent school and dumped into new and highly fashionable surroundings could.

And there were fewer higher surroundings to be had, at least in Port Royal, Jamaica, than Governor Henry Morgan’s home. Surrounded by luxury, much of it obtained through highly suspect means, Morgan the former pirate had sworn to rid the island of pirates beginning with his neighbors and former comrades. There would be many examples to choose from: Port Royal was one of the most popular pirate destinations in the Caribbean.

That, of course, was part of what brought her here too. The King’s new spymaster wanted to know more about how Morgan planned to drive off the pirates and how much of a threat their displacement would be to his majesty’s colonies and ships. Since she could not very well ask the pirates, it behooved her to go and see what she might find out in the governor’s informal court. Without crossing paths with the man himself, if possible. True, it had been a year and a few months since she had been here last and she was in disguise, but he was said to have a long memory for a pretty face.

She did not look for a young gentleman with flame red hair amongst the throng. Captain Jacquotte Delahaye would not risk her neck by coming here again, not even in disguise as a young man. More’s the pity. She tapped her lips lightly with one finger behind her fan as she remembered the pirate’s kiss. Right before that same pirate stole the letter than gave Celeste some protection, at least in French waters. Celeste narrowed her eyes for a moment: it would be good to find a way to avenge herself, even if that was unlikely to happen here and now.

“Child! Come here at once. Where is your chaperone?”

The harsh English accent cut through Celeste’s reverie like a knife. She bit back a retort and jumped like a startled hare. “Oh, madam, if you please, I am a guest of Lady Aston’s and she was right here...” Celeste trailed off as she gestured vaguely at the empty space at her side and gave the older Englishwoman a wide-eyed stare.

She was dark-eyed and imperious, her features striking enough to mark her as a great beauty in her youth and certainly more than handsome now with age and gravity making her face more interesting. But of most importance to Celeste was that she had a sharp gaze that seemingly missed very little. It quivered through her like an arrow and she dropped her own gaze to the parquet floor and picked awkwardly at her fan.

A moment later, Lady Aston’s welcome voice came to her rescue. “There you are, my dear! Oh…Lady Carlisle, isn’t it? I had only just heard that you had arrived here in Jamaica.”

“You mean that you had heard I was dead and are now completely astonished to find me alive and here in Jamaica. Come now, Elizabeth, you were a better liar when we were girls.” The imperious woman drew herself up with the aid of a gold-headed walking stick and gave Lady Aston a cool smile.

Celeste couldn’t help raising her eyebrows in astonishment, but had the good sense to glance away, making it appear as if she…was reacting to a red-haired apparition on the far side of the ballroom. Celeste bit back a gasp. She did not have the time or patience for this. That pirate should not, could not be here. Not back in Sir Henry Morgan’s palace when the former privateer had vowed to go pirate-hunting. After Captain Jacquotte Delahaye had stolen her letter of authorization from the king and given her the most distracting, passionate kiss Celeste had ever experienced, she and her ship had vanished from the local waters and there had been no word of her or her exploits since.

Not of course that Celeste had searched. Well, perhaps a little. With an effort, she dragged her attention back to the sparring match between Lady Aston and…of course, that Lady Carlisle. She of the Affair of the Queen’s Diamonds, the woman who nearly brought down a French queen. There were so many tales about her exploits that it was difficult to discern which ones might even have a grain of truth in them. What was she doing here?

“I see your protegee is lost in her thoughts. An unattractive quality in a girl so young. Certainly you were never guilty of that at her age, Elizabeth. But then, she is a bit old to be fresh from the convent school. Where have you been keeping her?” Lady Carlisle narrowed her dark eyes as she assessed Celeste and for a moment, the latter thought she knew how a mouse felt under the fixed gaze of a hawk.

“My French cousins in England sent her to me in hopes that I might refine her a bit and help her to find a suitable husband in these islands.” Lady Aston tapped her fan impatiently and Celeste knew that she wanted to return to her card game. It was time to intervene.

“My lady,” she curtsied politely, “it is a great honor to meet you. I believe that my clumsiness in calling myself to your attention is depriving my dear guardian of her opportunity to engage the other ladies in whist so I beg your permission to allow us to retire to the card room.” She glanced up at Lady Carlisle and the latter waved a dismissive hand. Several gentlemen were approaching and her attention was clearly diverted to a dark, saturnine man in a rich velvet coat.

Celeste took Lady Aston’s arm and gently tugged her away. Whatever business Lady Carlisle engaged in would have to wait for a better moment for eavesdropping. Lady Aston’s arm was tense under hers. “I don’t know what your game is, my dear, but steer clear of that woman as much as you can. She is very dangerous.”

“Even dead?” Celeste couldn’t resist. Why had Lady Aston thought her dead? If she was the same Lady Carlisle of the Queen’s diamonds affair, she must be nearly indestructible. Particularly given English food.

Lady Aston gave an impolite snort behind her fluttering fan. “She will die when the Devil himself comes to call for her and not one moment sooner. I wonder what she is doing here?”

Celeste started to respond when a vivid shock of red hair on a young man near the archway caught her eye…no, not a man. She had been correct in her first impression. Pirate captain Jacquotte Delahaye was indeed attending Sir Henry Morgan’s ball. The very one in which he planned to announce the extermination of pirates and piracy in the Caribbean. At least she had not grown more timid in the last year.

“Ah. I had an eye for handsome lad or two in my youth as well,” Lady Aston chuckled a bit. “But do not forget that you are an ingenue, fresh from the country or whatever tale you were telling Lady Carlisle. Not a bold and brazen hussy who flirts with strange men at balls. Particularly not this one.” Her lip curled in distaste for a group of bearded and burly men who surrounded Sir Henry Morgan as he moved across the room to his overstuffed chair overlooking the assembly.

The old pirate laid claim to the service of other old pirates, then. These men were certainly not planters or merchants, Celeste could almost smell the dried salt from their garments from across the room. One bore a black eyepatch, another a wooden hand. It occurred to her a moment later that if she found Jacquotte Delahaye so recognizable, some of these men must as well. She forced herself to not glance at the archway where the captain had been a moment before.

“I understand, ma’am. I had not realized that the lieutenant governor flaunted his old connections quite so boldly.” Celeste murmured softly.

“Hadn’t you? I had thought that might be why I was so fortunate as to enjoy your company again,” Lady Aston gave her a sidelong glance. “No, I don’t need to hear either the lies or the truth. Simply trust me in this one thing and steer clear of the pirates. I would not want to hear that you came to a…mishap of one kind or another, particularly when under my care. I loved your mother and I am fond of you, my dear.”

Celeste bit her lip slightly and nodded. Perhaps she was as recognizable as the pirate captain in her own way. She cast her eyes downward in as modest a look as she could summon and escorted Lady Aston to her card table. Since she had no interest in cards, and more to the point, no money for gambling, she was once again able to observe the ball, local merchants and landowners, pirates and spies.

“I had no thought to see you here tonight, Mademoiselle.” The low voice from behind her sent a frisson of heat through Celeste. It couldn’t be, she wouldn’t dare… She glanced sidelong at a brown-haired gentleman in somber clothes with a light brown beard and mustache. Who could this be? He caught her eye and she glanced away as if flustered by flirtation. How had Captain Delahaye found a disguise to quickly?

“How did you…no, never mind, it matters not. What are you doing here?” Celeste fluttered her fan in a way that suggested her companion had said something amusing.

“I am here to learn more about Sir Henry Morgan’s plan to exterminate piracy on the high seas, of course. Such a noble endeavor! Certain to earn him more rewards from the English king, not to mention the opportunity to plunder the stolen treasure of his former brethren. But that seems too frightening a topic for such a demure young lady. Are you newly out of a convent school, Mademoiselle, or perhaps have been in society a bit longer and have simply failed to find a husband yet?”

Celeste’s blue eyes narrowed above her fan, but she smiled a hidden smile. This pirate had her charms and it amused her to be reminded of them. But this time, there would be no thefts, not of her letters nor of whatever virtue she thought she had left. Perhaps, though, since they were both in attendance at the ball for the same reasons, they might find common ground for the moment. “If it is not too bold, would you like to dance, Monsieur? I see that few are willing to dance too near Sir Henry Morgan and his compatriots?”

“With reason, my dear. I do not wish to draw so much attention and neither should you. Let Sir Henry sink a bit further into his cups and he’ll be talkative enough to meet either of our ends. But come, we will join the dance at this other end of row.” With that, Captain Delahaye caught her arm and swept her down to the other end of the room.

This imperious gesture annoyed her. She wanted to eavesdrop, not to wait until a drunken Englishman shared his plans out loud. Who could trust in those? They’d be changed before half the room heard them. Unless Sir Henry thought that he had such a strong hand the pirates didn’t stand a chance against him? Aloud, she murmured, “What do you think his plans are?”

The Captain spun her gracefully into the dance and when she returned to his arms, said just as softly, “I imagine he thinks that a few English warships and some extra cannons on the port will solve the problem. Retake Port Royal, break the center of buccaneer power and scatter us all to the winds.”

Celeste laughed softly. “Even I know him to be more sophisticated than that when the mood strikes him. And you know him better than I, I suspect.” She spun away from Jacquotte in the dance, only to be swept back into the pirate’s arms a few steps later.

“Do I? You think an English privateer turned milord associates with a French whore turned pirate? Faith, Versailles must be grown more liberal than when last I was in France.” Jacquotte’s lips twisted in something that was not a smile and Celeste shivered.

“I do not believe you were a whore,” she said at last. “Nothing about you…suits that life.” She stumbled over the words and Jacquotte swept her off the floor into an alcove as the musicians changed their tune to a country dance. She blinked up at the pirate for a moment before she realized that the alcove they stood in was only a few paces from Sir Henry’s thronelike chair. A moment’s movement and she shifted her expression and her fan into a gesture of clumsy flirtation,

“How delightfully your eyes sparkle when you are engaged in…I assume you are a spy? I can see no other reason for the disguise, the return to this city, this governor’s palace?” Jacquotte tilted her head to one side and looked inquisitive.

Celeste smiled and raised her fan up under her eyes to cover her lips. A chance word from the men around Morgan caught her attention then and she inched a bit closer to the edge of the alcove, where a dark curtain separated them from the group around Morgan. There was something about a ship, no, three ships. A new cannonade on the harbor. A raid on the taverns near the water. The phrase “put to the torch” sent a chill through her. Jacquotte met her gaze with a look of such fury that Celeste had no doubts of the pirate’s intentions. There was something about days, possibly three, and Jacquotte stepped forward.

She grabbed Jacquotte’s arm and shook it slightly. “Too many of them. Not here, like this. Come with me.” She took the pirate’s hand and tugged and after a long minute, she followed. They slipped around the outskirts of the ball to one of the open doors to the garden. Celeste murmured something about feeling faint for the benefit of the dancers who were cooling themselves in the night air and Jacquotte solicitously gave her arm for support.

Once in the gardens, Jacquotte lifted her hand and kissed it, then turned it over and kissed her palm. Celeste felt a hot flush dance on her neck and nearly laughed at the sensation. This pirate, at least, never failed to intrigue her. “I need to go to my ship, chérie, to talk to my men and see what we can do to thwart Morgan and his men. It has been a delight to spend the evening in your company.” The pirate released her hand and turned to slip away in the dark.

A rough voice from the shadows made them both start. “What have we here? A pirate captain playing at being a gentleman? That great buffoon in the palace must be like a pox, spreading his thrice damned foolishness to all who get too close.” Whoever he was, he stayed in the shadows while the moonlight glinted off the knife that suddenly appeared in Jacquotte’s hand.

“What are you doing here, Tom Harris?” Her voice was calm, but Celeste could see her shift her stance and become more alert, as if expecting a possible attack.

“Reckon I’m here for what you came for, Delahaye. Except you seem to have gotten distracted by a bit of skirt. Nice bit of fluff, but not one to bring along on tonight’s work. Where’s your crew?”

Celeste stiffened and pulled a knife of her own from the inner pocket of her voluminous skirt. She held it up so that the moonlight glinted off the blade and bared her teeth at the shadow that interrogated them. A soft laugh erupted from the darkness. “The kitten has claws! Would that I had the time to tame you, sweetheart!”

“Leave her be, Tom, and tell me what you want.” Jacquotte’s voice took on a cold edge.

“Not in front of her…” he began.

Jacquotte cut him off, “I trust her and that’s all you need know. Now tell me what you want before I filet you like a fish.”

Tom laughed again. “I hear that old Henry wants to burn and blast us out of our home in Port Royal, then chase us out upon the sea. You heard as much or more?”

“About as much. Who’s backing you?”

“Teach’s brat and the Black Lagoon Fleet, my own crew, most of the pirates who’ve heard a rumor here or there. The others are too drunk to believe a word of it.”

Jacquotte gave him a slit-eyed gaze. “And where did you get your information?”

He laughed again, more softly. “Let’s say that there’s another party with an interest in the matter, one who’d as soon not see Sir Henry’s plan succeed. But I can see by your looks that you’ve heard something of the same. Now I must be off. I was told to meet my spy in the gardens to find out more about when he plans to toast us all in our beds. I’ll send word to your ship.” He tapped his hat in a mockery of courtesy to Celeste and disappeared into the darkness.

“We need to see who he’s been speaking with,” Celeste said softly.

“And I need to go and talk to my crew.” Jacquotte leaned over and caught her hand. “Find out what you can, but be careful. Are you in the same room as last year?”

“At Lady Aston’s, yes.” Jacquotte nodded and slipped away. Celeste bit back a smile realizing that she had very nearly told a pirate captain to be “cautious.” But now she needed to find out what she could for her own mission, Where would a pirate meet someone in the garden of Sir Henry Morgan’s estate at dead of night? Though that did not narrow the options much. She tucked her knife out of sight, but within easy reach in her skirts and took a path around the patch of darkness where Tom Harris had vanished.

Where would an obvious pirate hide on the grounds of a man sworn to eliminate all pirates not under his control? She guessed that there must be an escape route nearby and that he would not venture this close to the house and its guards without reason. But that left any number of dark paths and trees that might hide anything from a pair of lovers to footpads to…Lady Carlisle. Not in the actual bushes, of course, but sweeping carelessly down the path on the arm of the gentleman she had seemed so delighted to see.

Celeste thought briefly of being brazen about wandering the garden unaccompanied for a moment, then decided instead to step into the darkness of a nearby stand of trees herself. Lady Carlisle might have some questions about the behavior of a convent miss that would be awkward to answer. But she miscalculated in the darkness and tripped, falling to the ground with a soft cry. The lady and her escort were closer now, close enough to hear and perhaps see her and Celeste cursed her luck.

She was testing her ankle to make sure she could stand when the gentleman in the velvet coat appeared in front of her and stretched out his hand. “What have we here? A little lost kitten far from the safety of her friends. You should not wander these grounds alone at night, my dear. You never know who you might meet.” His English was lightly accented, but it was not a voice that Celeste recognized. She took his hand and allowed him to pull her to her feet.

“Thank you. Lady Carlisle. You seem to see me at my worst tonight. My deepest apologies. I came out for a breath of air took the wrong path and foolishly got turned around. I must beg your permission to depart and seek out Lady Aston.”

The lady tilted her head to one side, like a bird of prey. “I don’t believe you, my dear. I’m not sure what you are doing, but I think you will come with us. I think I have plans for you, since you’re certainly not what you seem.”

Her companion looked puzzled, but did not loosen his grip, and frowned at Celeste, who schooled her features into a picture of innocence and confusion. “I don’t know what you mean, my lady. My father is a merchant and my mother is dead. I am just the guest of Lady Aston, a friend of my mother’s, There is nothing more to me than that.”

Lady Carlisle reached out and tugged at Celeste’s hair. Celeste gasped as the brown wig came unpinned, exposing her blonde locks underneath. “I thought as much. You’re not bad, girl, but you need more time and practice to pull the wool over my eyes. French spy, I take it? No, don’t bother lying. I’ve seen and outwitted far too many of you not to recognize one when I see her.” She stepped forward on the path. “Bring her. We can’t have her running loose now.”

Over Celeste’s protests she found herself towed down the path behind the lady, who moved through the darkness in her pale gown like a ship in full sail. The gentleman, even when he did not appear to be paying attention, never loosened his grip. Celeste considered screaming for aid, but then would-be rescuers in a pirate’s garden might be worse than her current predicament. What did they want her for, anyway? The possibilities were all…distinctly unpleasant.

At the edge of the garden, Lady Carlisle stopped and barked out a short phrase. Celeste was not surprised to see Tom Harris step forward. He had to have gotten his information from someone in the house, though the notion that an English lady would associate directly with a pirate surprised her a bit. Not that this English lady was like any other.

“Milady de Winter,” Tom sketched a bow of sorts. “I expected you to send a messenger.” He glanced briefly at the man, then at Celeste, before returning his attention to Lady Carlisle. His expression showed no recognition, only mild curiosity.

Celeste was still digesting what he had just said. Milady de Winter was legendary, but also long-believed to be dead: why would she resurrect that name now? She and Tom Harris bent their heads together, murmuring softly so that she only caught a few words. They seemed to be confirming what she and Jacquotte already knew…except she caught the word “fortnight.” What was happening in a fortnight that these two needed to meet in secret about?

Once or twice, Lady Carlisle cast a glance at her, her expression speculative in the dim light. A shot of ice ran through her. Did this woman intend to use her as some sort of bargaining chip or worse, payment to Tom Harris for his services? She drew a deep breath, vowing that either Tom or she would feel the blade of the knife in her skirts if that happened.

But a few minutes later, their business was concluded. Tom accepted something from Lady Carlisle’s hand and vanished into the darkness. She beckoned to Celeste’s captor, “Come on. We still need to finish this.” She swept past, heading once more for the Governor’s mansion in the center of the gardens.

Celeste found herself dragged in her wake once again, only this time she began to wonder if her knife might be better applied to the hand of her captor than anything else. Perhaps if she stumbled again, she could throw him off balance? She lurched sideways, but couldn’t break his grip on her wrist. Instead, he tightened it, now pressing her arms against her sides by wrapping his arm around her waist. This was worse than before: she had no desire to be closer to him and now it would be harder to reach her knife.

Lady Carlisle led the way back to the house and went to a side door that opened from the garden into a small drawing room. “Now,” she said coldly. “Let’s find out what you know. I’m sure a French spy at Sir Henry Morgan’s home would pick up a few useful tidbits. We’re prepared to make you tell us, if you insist. But I can’t imagine that your loyalty needs to be paid for in your blood.” She sat down at the table near the door where they entered. “Now, who are you? Your real name.”

Celeste murmured a phrase that she had picked up in an unsavory tavern and Lady Carlisle nodded. Her man gripped Celeste’s arm and gave it a hard twist. “The choice is either that you tell me what you know and I determine whether or not it is worth your life or you tell me nothing of any use and he kills you here. Do I make myself clear, girl?”

“Why did he call you Milady de Winter back there in the garden?” Celeste shifted to loosen the pressure on her arm. If she escaped from this, she’d bear his fingerprints on her flesh for a ten day.

“That is what worries you right now? What an interesting child you are1 It is an old nom de guerre that I thought I would bring back. After all, I’m dead, isn’t that what Lady Aston thought? Why not be dead under different names? So many delightful things that one can learn and accomplish if no one knows where to look for you.”

It was then that Jacquotte appeared outside the door to the dark garden. Celeste nearly shrieked with relief, but instead, she twisted hard and stepped on his foot, forcing Lady Carlisle’s companion to focus on her. Jacquotte slipped into the room, knocking Lady Carlisle over with a quick blow of her cutlass handle. He spun at her cry, releasing Celeste at last, and tugged her own knife free of its scabbard. It was a moment too late.

Jacquotte’s knife caught the man in the velvet coat square in the stomach and he doubled over with a howl. A second slash ended his ability to make noise forever. Lady Carlisle gave a shriek and advanced on them with a small pistol, her expression murderous. Celeste grabbed a vase from a nearby table and threw it at her. The pistol’s shot went wild and Lady Carlisle dropped it to grab her bleeding arm. She opened her mouth to shout and Celeste grabbed Jacquotte’s arm and dragged her away.

Minutes later, they fled into the gardens, the shouts of pursuit behind them. Jacquotte towed her swiftly down a darkened path, then through a gate in the wall. The street outside was deserted. “Come with me on The Leopardess,” Jacquotte murmured softly. “You’ll have to stay out of sight for a bit until this is surpassed by something else in any case. Lady Aston won’t be able to keep you safe.”

“But I will be safe on a pirate ship?” Celeste tilted her face up with a laugh. “Did you hear what she told Tom Harris? Something about a fortnight before Sir Henry acted against the pirates?”

“My pirate ship. Yes, he told me and he told me they had you. That’s how I knew to come back here. My crew and his and the others have been emptying pirates out of Port Royal all night, as well as spiking the guns overlooking the harbor. My crew knows who helped me put a stop to Sir Henry’s plans tonight and they will value you as one of their own.”

“It’s an intriguing idea. And you’re right, I need to leave Port Royal now anyway. Permission to join your crew, at least for now, Captain?” Jacquotte met her laugh with a kiss.

Show Notes

This quarter’s fiction episode presents “An Encounter With a Lady” by Catherine Lundoff, narrated by Heather Rose Jones.

Links to the Lesbian Historic Motif Project Online