Fic: "Contradictions 4: Win" (Part 4)
Jun. 1st, 2011 07:55 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
veronica_richThis is a continuation of a POTC fic. See Part 1 for disclaimers, etc.
8 Days to Departure (The Paper Chase)
“Hallo, Will!” David grinned from ear to ear, stopping short of practically throwing himself at the blacksmith, pausing inside the foyer.
Will smiled back at the boy’s enthusiasm, seeing the child’s tension in his slim, slightly-trembling frame. He closed the distance and put his arms around the boy’s shoulders in a large hug. “You’ve been all right?” he asked.
In return, David threw his arms around Will’s waist and squeezed hard. “It was grand!” he responded, pulling away a few seconds later. “They gave me sweets and a couple of books, and had a dog I played with and everything – I liked them a lot.” Then he grew more somber. “Oh, but not as much as you and Captain Sparrow, Will – sir.”
“Just ‘Will’ is fine.” He clapped a hand on the boy’s upper back. “You hungry?”
“I had breakfast this morning.”
Will grinned, knowing how David ate when given the opportunity – like an eleven-year-old boy or, to be more descriptive, like a bear after its winter nap. “That wasn’t what I asked,” he pointed out.
Sheepishly, David ducked his head a bit. “I could eat,” he admitted.
Will kept his hand on David’s back, guiding him toward the kitchen, chuckling at that answer. Both Jack and Elizabeth were still at the table when man and boy ducked in, and Jack nodded toward David, who waved back silently. As the captain went back to reading some journal he’d found in the sitting room earlier, Elizabeth rose and swept around the table toward the two. “Hello,” she greeted. “You must be David; Will’s told me you work on the Pearl as part of her crew.”
When the boy didn’t speak right away, Will glanced down, seeing that David was bobbing his head in agreement, his throat working nervously as he regarded Elizabeth with large, slightly panicked eyes. Will had to bite his lip to keep from laughing, and looked back up to Elizabeth, who met his eyes briefly with a small smile. Well, why not? I probably had a crush on her when I was eleven, too, Will reasoned. “Is there any breakfast left over?” he asked, touching David’s shoulder and indicating with a dip of his chin toward the boy.
“Oh, of course. Come right over here.” Elizabeth led the boy to the sideboard and explained he could fill his plate and join the adults at the table when he was finished. Will could hear him thank her very quietly, solemnly, and walked over to pour himself a small glass of juice as Elizabeth took her seat once again, frowning briefly at Jack and his publication, as though she wanted it for herself – only then did Will realize that sometime while she’d gotten up, Jack had switched his own well-read journal for Elizabeth’s newer paper and was now perusing it at leisure. With a sigh, she shook her head and picked up the discarded journal, clearing her throat with a sidelong glance at Jack, shaking out the paper. The noise caught his attention, and he nodded back to her with a slight squinting of his eyes and a saccharine smile. Then, in unspoken synchronization, they both dropped their expressions and went back to their reading.
The two of them could not be more different if they tried, Will observed, sipping. Elizabeth sat up straight with her back pressed into the back of the chair as it was designed, perched upon the seat with her legs to the front of the chair. Her chin dipped a bit as she read, her upswept hair showing off her long, elegant neck with its smooth, relatively freckle-free skin. Will remembered her as a girl and all the freckles splashed across her cheeks and the very upper part of her shoulders that her dresses afford a view of to the public. When she brought her hand around the journal to pick up her teacup, she grasped bone china by the handle and lifted it to her lips, sipping daint-
Elizabeth slurped her drink and raised her head automatically, looking about. “Oops,” she apologized with a small grin. “Sorry.” The teacup went back on its saucer and she cleared her throat, going back to her reading.
Will slid his attention to Jack, who was tilting his chair back at a dangerous angle, his newly-shod feet up on a cleared edge of the heavy wooden table. His posture was slumped, insouciant, not so much sitting in the chair as inventing new acrobatics for the wood to perform under his weight. For once, his black hair was quite shorter than Elizabeth’s fair mane, and he wasn’t wearing more kohl than she did. His manner was still that of a pirate, loose yet wary, as though for some unknown reason His Majesty’s own navy might break down the door and demand to introduce Jack’s neck to a bit of hemp off the gallows at any moment. But even without the kohl and the hair trinkets, he was pretty enough, with high cheekbones, an angular, vulpine face, full bottom lip, and a-
Will nearly choked on his juice, ending up with just a little cough he was easily able to cover with another quick sip. Pretty? To refer to a man? To refer to the captain of a feared vessel more famous for raiding than for her prow’s legendary beauty of design? He wasn’t at all sure that was the proper term at all; then again, it wasn’t Will’s fault Jack had a feminine grace about him, and seemed to revel in showing off such physical attributes to advantage. Not at all Will’s doing that instead of simply walking, he swayed and swished his hips much of the time, or tossed his hair in a way no other man Will had ever met would dare.
David took a seat at the table and looked about at the three. “Is this your house, Miss Elizabeth?” he finally asked his hostess, his voice timid but clear. “Or your father’s?”
She lowered her reading material. “Actually, it belongs to the English monarchy. It’s used by whomever lives and serves here as a representative of His Majesty, seeing to the interests of England – at present, that’s Mr. Shelton.”
The boy was about to ask more when a brief, sharp rapping came at the door directly behind Elizabeth. All turned their heads to see Charlie standing just beyond through the window, and Elizabeth rose, crossing the short distance to admit him. “Isn’t this your day off?” she asked as the middle-aged man stepped inside.
“I had a delivery to make to Monsieur MacLeary,” the carriage driver explained.
Will’s brows furrowed, as did Elizabeth’s by the tone of her voice. “I don’t believe there’s anyone by that name here …” she trailed off, uncertain.
“I’ll be takin’ that.” Jack slipped briefly into his regular accent as he tipped the chair forward to the floor, putting the paper aside and standing to face Charlie. The driver handed him a large leather satchel, which Jack immediately unbuckled. Peering inside, he grinned, showing off for the first time to anyone but Will in weeks a glitter of gold teeth. “Aye, that’s it.” Digging out a couple of gold pieces, he presented them to Charlie, who shook his head.
“Really, Monsieur, I could not presume-”
“Take it.” Jack’s hand-thrust gave the man little choice but to do just that. “You’re not paid to run after my bloody arse, for things like this. Twas dangerous hauling this all the way here, and I thank you for your haste.”
Charlie, who’d spoken more words so far this morning than he did in the normal course of an entire day, tipped his cap and nodded, then did the same to Elizabeth before leaving.
“MacLeary?” Will asked, surprised. “That’s your name – Jackson MacLeary?”
“Scots make th’ best sailors, lad. Or Irishmen, such as yourself.”
Will frowned, momentarily flummoxed. “My father wasn’t Irish … oh.” He forgot sometimes that Jack had known of his mother, was old enough to have met her. Because she’d died when he was so young, he knew very little about her outside of being his mother except that she was blonde, and quite tall, and that his father had always gazed at her during his visits in the strangest way that always made young Will blush to be in the same room, even if he wasn‘t old enough to understand why.
“I’d say Siobhan Shaugnessy is about as Irish a name as you can get, lad.”
Will wondered what was in the satchel, but said nothing, though he suspected. “Is there more of that so I might take David to be fitted for some clothes this morning?” he asked instead, skirting a direct question rather boldly.
Jack gave him a rather surprised look, narrowing his eyes as if trying to discern what went on in Will’s head. Will returned the gaze with equal neutrality, not so much as blinking; like much between the two men, it became a contest of sorts, to see who would look away first. Will felt the corners of his lips quirk, but restrained the grin. At that, Jack’s eyes widened fractionally, silently daring him to maintain his strict façade. Oh, hell, Will thought. I am not thinking about laughing, I am NOT thinking about laughing, or chortling, or guffawing … I am most definitely not going to giggle or snort …
A soft laugh broke their staring contest, and Will flicked his eyes toward the distraction. Elizabeth was chuckling, her hand over her mouth, shaking her head at the two of them.
“Ha!” Jack crowed, smirking.
“Excuse me?” Elizabeth asked, clearing her throat to get rid of the laughter first.
But Jack didn’t explain, and Will glared at him. The pirate gave him the same overly-sweet smile he’d shot Elizabeth over their papers earlier, letting it relax into a broad, silently laughing grin. Will narrowed his eyes.
“Pirate,” Jack mouthed soundlessly, effectively reading his blacksmith’s mind.
It didn’t occur to Will until much later that he didn’t find this so unusual.
*****
7 Days to Departure (Some News)
“I’m settin’ sail to London in a week.” Jack casually made the announcement as he and Will lagged behind Elizabeth. Their hostess was showing David around the French chancellor’s private garden just beyond his spacious meeting room. She’d had the idea the evening before that while they were visiting, the “boys” as she called them should get a bit of culture and education out of the deal.
Will’s ears had perked when she mentioned the Chancellor’s extensive weapons collection displayed in his den – but that was forgotten momentarily in the wake of Jack’s words. “You’re sailing for England.”
“I’ve some family business t’ take care of that way.”
Will blinked at that. He‘d never really thought about Jack having a family; the man just seemed so unmoored to anything, save his beloved ship. Overriding that, though, was a more pressing thought. “I see … and what about David? And me?” Well aware he had no place to presume anything, Will kept his tone neutral; he was wondering, though, what he’d done wrong that Jack would leave him behind at this point. He thought he’d been a good crewman – and more than that, a good friend – and was puzzled by the sudden news.
Jack cleared his throat. “Th’ boy travels with you best, I realize that. He’ll do what you do – and what you do depends ‘pon your own decision, mate.”
“Jack, for once, I wish you’d just speak plainly. Do you know how much time we could save if you’d say something directly and I answered it directly the first time?” He was surprised at the annoyance in his own tone. “What’re you saying, then?”
“You’re free t’ go with me, if tha’s what you want; th’ both of you are.”
“Is there a reason we shouldn’t want to?”
“Now, I suppose that’s th’ question ye ought t’ be askin’ yourself, savvy?” Just as Will was about to demand more clarity again, his eyes followed the slight swivel of Jack’s head, and his gaze settled with the older man’s on Elizabeth Swann. Jack’s voice dropped further. “Do you really wan’ leave, Will?”
“I-” The blacksmith hesitated, his gaze fixed on the pair – the woman he’d spent so many years chasing and the boy who tagged along after him. He’d never had any compunction about protecting or staying with either of them.
“That’s what I thought.” Jack turned his dark eyes on Will again, indulgently. “Ye know, maybe there’s a reason you ended up here after all – same way I ended up in your shop th’ very time I needed ye to help me get me Pearl back.”
Will swallowed, glancing toward Elizabeth again, then back to Jack. He was confused and felt a large weight had settled somewhere between his shoulder blades, which also somehow reached clear through his chest, down into his stomach, and was clenching. “I’m not sure what I’m wanting – this is a bit fast for me.” What do you mean, it’s fast? It’s Elizabeth! She left you almost a year ago, and you’ve ended up where she went – in all this big, wide world, you two have ended up across an ocean in the same place, together. Didn’t Jack just say it might be fate? What proof do you need?
Jack shook his head, eyes unreadable. “Th’ way of th’ world, boy; life rarely sits still for any of us to make up our minds proper-like. Moves too fast.”
“Too fast to change our minds, as well?” Will liked having options, and was fast learning that stuck in a port town doing the same work day in and day out preserved most options for an indefinite amount of time; globe-trotting with Captain Jack Sparrow did not allow such luxuries.
“Quite often,” Jack admitted with a nod. “But you’re pretty stolid – I don’t see ye changin’ your mind too much, once you’ve made it up. Kind of like ol’ William, that way.”
“Hmm.” Will said nothing beyond the noncommittal sigh, and Jack clapped him on the shoulder. “One word of advice, though, lad: Ne’er do anythin’ regarding a lady’s heart without her say-so, first. Most don’t like it, an’ I daresay ‘Lizbeth would appreciate it even less.”
*****
6 Days to Departure (Sitting Up With the Dead)
“Elizabeth … there're squirrels in France too, right?”
“It’s not as though they’re going to hurt you,” the young woman answered, leading the way through recently-muddy ground to the front gate. “Just keep a sharp eye this time.”
“Keep a sharp eye.” Good grief, she sounds like Jack. Will held his lantern aloft to get a better look at the trail. “Aren’t we a bit old for this?”
“You stop playing ‘Pirates’ and I’ll stop playing ‘Explorer,’” she shot back with more cheek than even she usually displayed. Then again, what could a man reasonably expect from a woman pushing branches out of her face, wearing breeches and suspenders and men’s boots at eleven p.m.?
“It’s not exploring – it’s breaking and entering.”
“Says the man who takes orders from the king of high-seas felonies.”
“Jack’s not the king of felonies,” Will shook his head, pushing branches away while balancing the lantern. “At most, he’s court treasurer of felonies – maybe the jester, who knows?”
She laughed at that. “Wouldn’t let him hear you say that; he might take it personally, as an affront to his vaunted title.”
“He has a much better sense of humor than all that,” Will automatically defended. “He makes a lot of jokes at his own expense, and doesn’t really mind it from the crew. Especially Anamaria.” He thought of how much good-natured grief he gave Jack, how it had come to be second nature, really – a reflex, most of the time – and how the captain would either pointedly ignore his comments or simply gaze back as harmlessly as if he were regarding a stone statue.
Ah, but if Will got angry – that was another matter. Jack would grin, his angular features taking on an almost vulpine expression, showing both upper gold canines. And Will reflected he probably showed annoyance more often than did Jack and, to be fair, probably had less reason to do so – after all, it wasn’t his ship. He wasn’t in charge of making sure it stayed afloat, and he certainly wasn’t the one who always had to keep the chance of mutiny or capture in the back of his brain.
“Will Turner, have you heard a word I‘ve said?”
Indeed, he hadn’t. He wondered why he’d been wool-gathering on such an odd spot as Jack Sparrow, especially since by her stance and tone it was pretty clear Elizabeth had been trying to get his attention for at least several seconds. “Just thinking about that damn squirrel again,” he explained. Or maybe a fox. He immediately felt guilty for lying, wondering why his gut reaction had been to prevaricate about Jack.
The woman was not easily fooled, and she lifted an eyebrow at him. “What I was saying,” she spoke slowly and clearly, hands on her slim hips, “is that you might want to put some of those pirating skills to use – the gate’s locked and needs to be picked if we’re to get in.”
“Well, pirating won’t do me much good there,” Will answered, reaching into his vest for a set of slender irons. “The blacksmith part might, though.” His hand froze mid-retrieval, and he furrowed his brow – when had it become automatic that he’d break into a place rather than counsel leaving it alone as any honest bloke ought?
Now she was laughing, apparently having divined the same conclusion. “You really have changed, you know?” she grinned. “Not entirely for the worse, though.”
Will stuck his tongue out at her, and she only laughed harder, hand over her mouth to muffle the sound in the quiet of the night. He realized he hadn’t done that since they were both children still tutoring together in her father’s den; in the years since, he’d been far too intimidated by and enamored of her to attempt such a childish gesture. “I’ve had some bad influences, savvy?” He delivered a fair imitation of Jack’s tone in a stage whisper, and now they were both laughing.
When they’d both calmed down, Elizabeth spoke again. “Who would’ve thought anyone could ever bring ‘Truthful Turner’ down a couple of notches?”
“Excuse me?”
“You. What we used to call you,” she offered by way of explanation. Clearly, “we” had been the few children of the village allowed to run with the governor’s daughter; Will had been the only one without parents or a suitable inheritance. “Remember when Michael stole that collection tin from the church, and you told on him? Or when Jennifer took the candy from the basket at the shop? You’re the one who told her mother all about it. Really, I didn’t think anything could ever corrupt you.”
“Well, they didn’t have any business taking anything,” he nearly snapped, childhood memories of being the outcast tolerated for Elizabeth’s sake coming back to him. “Their parents could buy them the sun and moon, if they’d wanted it.”
“And you think Jack is a pauper?” She regarded him skeptically. “Will … he’s pilfered enough treasure by now to buy and sell Port Royale, if what was back in that cave’s any indication! He’s not poor.” She quirked her lips. “And I don’t think he grew up poor, either.”
“What makes you say that?” Will closed his eyes and calmed himself; she’d done nothing wrong, so why was he still snapping? Opening his eyes again, he said in a much more civil tone, “Why do you think that?”
She was giving him a curious look, appraising, but eventually answered, “I don’t know, exactly. Call it woman’s intuition – there’s just something about him that doesn’t strike me as ‘London street urchin,’ is all. Not exactly royalty, either … but definitely he had some advantages. For one, he can speak perfectly properly when he so desires.”
“So can I.”
“Because you had the benefit of an education, thanks to Father.” Now it was her turn to close her eyes and look chagrined. “Sorry, Will – I’m not trying to rub that in. What I mean is that somewhere along the way, Jack learned speech, and social manners, that he just doesn’t use. Can he write as well as he reads?” Will nodded. “From everything we learned about pirates, you don’t find that just a touch odd?”
“Norrington wasn’t exactly the most neutral instructor,” he pointed out. The naval officer had taught Elizabeth, Will, and many of the other island children history an hour a day during their tutoring, not to mention the time they’d spent up at the garrison listening to tales about his and the other sailors’ run-ins with pirate vessels.
“Yes, but he’s honorable enough.”
“Meaning I’m not, anymore?” Will stepped around Elizabeth and climbed the last few steps to the gate, vines twisted around the iron, still dotted with moisture from that afternoon’s rain.
A silence hung between them as he worked at the lock, and then he heard not too far behind him her quiet, “I’m sorry, Will.”
“Sorry for what?” He had a metal rod shoved up inside the lock, hunched over to put his ear close to it to listen for the telltale tumble, but it wasn’t budging yet.
She sighed. “For … everything. For making it look like I was running away from you, from what you said to me. That you loved me.”
“Isn’t that what you did?” Pick, rattle, withdraw, shove, rattle. “Dammit! This isn’t a difficult lock!” he hissed, crouching down further to concentrate more on the metal. He was glad to have the distraction from the sudden turn in conversation.
“No, actually, I was running away from all of it – Father, James, having to be forced into marriage, Port Royale.” She paused a pregnant moment. “Well, and yes … you, too. I wasn’t ready to be tied down to anyone or anything, and I don’t know why women don’t get a choice, when men get to pick what they want to do all the bloody time.”
“Not all the time. Blacksmithing wouldn’t have been my first choice, I assure you.”
“I know.” They were both likely recalling Will’s brief episode of hero worship when they all first sailed into Port Royale, and how he used to find any excuse he could to go to the fort and follow then-Lieutenant Norrington around, pestering him with occasional questions about ships and the navy. The young officer had been infinitely patient, his only indication of annoyance with the boy the occasional sigh and a certain way he sometimes gravely intoned “Mr. Turner” when the questions simply peppered too quickly. The worship of Norrington himself had eventually worn down to general respect for an elder, but Will’s fascination with ships and the sea had remained strong, despite his boyhood trauma. More than once he’d told Elizabeth of his desire to join the Royal Navy once he was of age, but by the time he was, his limited formal education and pedigree made it an impossibility. Elizabeth continued, “But I didn’t think piracy would have been, either.”
“Was good enough for my father.” The tumblers clicked this time, but still no dice. Will growled in the back of his throat and went at the lock like a man possessed, as he talked. “I mean, I would have preferred something respectable, but at least it’s not being stuck in a shop all day, the rest of my life, growing stooped and bent – or worse, ending up like Brown.”
“I’m not judging you, Will; I was just making a comment.”
Will didn’t trust himself to answer until, after what seemed a lifetime by the burn in his hunched shoulders, the lock clicked loudly enough to signal success, and he was able to swing the heavy gate outward. “I realize that; believe me, I know when you’re being judgmental, Lizzie.” He gestured grandly, bowing. “After you, milady.”
“What do you mean, judgmental?” She gathered up the basket she’d been carrying and had set down while he worked, scowling as she preceded him into the cemetery.
He grinned as he followed, leaving the gate open so they could get out later. No use doing the work twice. “Meaning what you think it means. You do tend to judge people sometimes.”
“I do not!”
“So you weren’t judging Jack when you found out he was the one who’d brought the Interceptor to save you? Funny, but I know that tone of voice, and it wasn’t a happy tone.”
“Will, the man used me for a human shield not a week before! I wasn’t being judgmental – I was being understandably apprehensive about his motives. For good reason, as I recall.”
Will shrugged, though she couldn’t see him. “We’re both still alive.” Once was the time he’d been equally angry with the pirate and his sneaky plans, but Jack had more than made up for it by protecting the both of them against Barbossa as much as he could. “Besides, it wasn’t like he got us into the whole situation in the first place.. And he did save you from drowning.”
“Must you remind me?” She sounded so exasperated and defeated that Will couldn’t help laughing, careful to keep his deep chuckle to a dull roar. “Damn infuriating man – like most of them aren’t.”
“Watch it, now.”
“He doesn’t infuriate you?”
Silence.
“That’s what I figured.”
*****
5 Days to Departure (Dining With the Dead After Midnight)
“We’ve read every stone in here, and not one squirrel,” Elizabeth pronounced as they found themselves at the diagonal end of the cemetery from the gate roughly two hours later.
He rolled his eyes. “I’m not really scared of squirrels, you know.”
“I know no such thing, Will Turner. For all I know, you could be terrified of the poor little helpless creatures. After all, I know how threatening they can be to a big, strong man like yourself.” She smirked, a twinkle in her eye.
“At least they’re not minnows,” he baited dryly.
Her jaw tightened. “Minnows don’t bother me.”
“Anymore,” he corrected. “I seem to remember a certain ten-year-old running screeching from the water when they started ‘attacking’ her unprotected ankles-”
“I didn’t know it wasn’t a jellyfish!” she protested. “I didn’t run that fast, and I most certainly did not screech.”
“Let’s see … you outran the dog, and you scared every bird off the beach, with all your waving and dancing about, and screaming.”
She withdrew a napkin from the basket and waved it about then. “All right, truce,” she hastened to shut him up, flapping the material in his face. “Since this is the only truce you pirates understand?” When he stuck his tongue out again, she quickly shoved the napkin between his parted lips, and he spit out the dry material, catching it as it fell. “Serves you right. You want something to eat?”
And so they made themselves comfortable on an old horse blanket Elizabeth had managed to pilfer from Charlie’s stable and ate, each left to their own thoughts as they munched silently by the glow of the lantern. Will finally found the courage to speak up. “There’s something that’s been on my mind … since you left.”
“You want to know why I left?”
“No, I think I’ve figured that out.” He put aside his empty napkin, having eaten the cakes wrapped in it. “It’s … well, I’m curious about us. Maybe I was just not being very perceptive, but I did think you were interested in possibly pursuing … something, with you and me. How far wrong was I?”
“Hmm. At one time, not wrong at all, really. I mean, right after the kidnapping and Barbossa, I would have been quite amenable to the idea of you and I spending the rest of our days together – or at least to seeing if such a match could have worked.”
He wasn’t sure how to feel about the missed opportunity. “What changed?”
“Me,” she answered without hesitation. “I was quite excited by the adventure we’d had, and I have to admit that Jack turned out to be a lot less …” She trailed off, looking about, searching for a word. “Reprehensible, than I’d been raised to believe pirates really are. And with your father being a pirate, why that made you seem very attractive – not to mention all you did to come after me, and rescue me,” she added with a smile. “But as the months went by, I started thinking more about what had happened, itself, and less about you and your part in it.” She reached over and briefly touched his arm. “I hope not to offend you, Will. I still consider you one of my best friends.”
“No – go on,” he encouraged with a nod, his attention fixed totally on Elizabeth.
“The more I thought about it all, the more I understood that was what I wanted. Oh, not being kidnapped and almost killed, and cut on, and bartered with – but the travel, and the excitement, and matching wits … well, those parts I actually rather liked. Barbossa was a bastard of the first order, but I was able to hold my own with him pretty well. I finally just told Father that I wanted to do more than sit around and embroider samplers and plan parties all the time.” Her expression and gestures were growing animated. “I told him if I were a boy, he’d try to help me do anything I thought I could be good at, and since I was as smart as any boy, I ought to be given the same consideration. That my brain wasn’t any less than a son’s would be, and that’s the part that does all the real work, anyway.”
“And so he found this post for you.”
She wrinkled her nose in contemplation. “Not at first, no. But eventually, he changed his mind – I think he was afraid it was either this, or I might just disappear some night and run off to join a pirate crew,” she chuckled.
“Wouldn’t you have?” Will teased.
“No offense, Will, but I like to be cleaner than that on a regular basis. Bilge water isn’t good for my complexion.” She winked at him. “That, and there’s the little matter of worrying if you’re going to be captured or killed on a daily basis.”
“Strictly speaking, you can only be killed once.”
She rolled her eyes and shook her head. “As I was saying,” she gave him a pseudo-stern look, “I finally talked Father into letting me pursue something for myself, rather than sitting around waiting to marry someone pursuing his own work. And yes, he did help me obtain this post, but it was my idea to try for this kind of work, and I contacted all the suitable people by letter.”
Will couldn’t help it; he’d been dying of curiosity since the day Elizabeth had told him she was sailing for England. “And Norrington let you go?”
“Well … really, he had no choice. He had no claim upon me – I was hardly his prize hen. I don’t expect he liked the idea much, and he did try to talk me out of it twice, but eventually he relented and graciously allowed me my leave. Poor James,” she added as an afterthought, it seemed, a slight frown tugging at her mouth. “He really was much better about it than any man would reasonably be expected to be, under the circumstances.”
Will drank some tea from the pitcher she’d brought along as he considered how to phrase his next question. “Are you sorry you left him?” He hesitated a beat. “Or me?”
She opened her mouth, then shut it abruptly, nose wrinkling in what he recognized as her “thinking” face. Good. Whatever I hear will at least be honest, he thought with equal measures of satisfaction and apprehension. “I don’t think I would make anyone a very good wife right now,” she finally answered. “There’s still too much I’d like to do before I marry and have children; moreover, I’d like to marry someone who’s sure he wants me for me, and not because it will complete his social agenda in some way.”
“Norrington.”
“I believe that was at the fore of his proposal, yes,” she admitted. “You never did hear how he proposed to me – he made it sound like a business deal, or completing a jigsaw puzzle with the last corner piece. No, actually, I suppose children would have been the last corner piece,” she corrected. “At any rate, I was the governor’s daughter, I was reasonably attractive and well-mannered, and I was female and of marriageable age. I’m not sure James ever saw Elizabeth so much as he saw that next-to-last puzzle piece.”
“Maybe,” Will said. “Then again, maybe he was just intimidated by you. You tend to have that effect on men.”
She grinned, an acknowledgement that he spoke from personal experience. “And you … Will, I do love you, honestly, but you were just so … earnest. And young; you’re no older than me. You haven’t seen the world yet, either; even now, you’ve only visited a small portion of it. You’re no more ready to take on a wife and children than I am to settle down – and I think deep down, you know that.”
He granted her a small smile, letting that sink in. He’d spent so long imagining his perfect life with perfect Elizabeth and their perfect house that he hadn’t given much thought to the daily grind required to make such a relationship work. “Maybe I’m older than I look, eh?” he ventured.
“You’ve always been older than your age,” she amended. “That’s part of the problem – I didn’t want you waking up one day and realizing you’d never done anything fun, anything adventurous or spontaneous in your life. And I didn’t want to be the same way.”
He had to ask, even if he suspected he knew the answer. “Do you suppose there’s any way you and I would ever court and marry, even a few years from now?”
“Will, I have no idea.” She shook her head to punctuate it. “I’m no gypsy fortune-teller. I’d say come back and ask me in five years … but I don‘t think you‘ll want to.”
“I – I’ve idolized you for so long,” he confessed. “I don’t remember the last time we just sat down and had a conversation – too many years.”
She smiled, a bit sadly. “I know. That’s another reason I couldn’t marry you if I wanted to, now. You don’t really know who I am anymore. I don’t know you, either.”
She scooted a bit closer and reached out to take his hands, squeezing them in her smaller, more delicate fingers and bringing them together between them. “But I know you’ll always be honorable, and a good man, no matter what you’re doing – and that includes being a pirate. And I know you’ll always be my friend, and that I can count on you to do just about anything I’d ask of you, even if it isn’t always good for you.” She squeezed tighter, and he could see she was smiling brightly, trying to keep her eyes dry. “And I know if there’s vicious minnows within a knot in sight, you‘ll shoo them away.”
They both started guffawing at that, recalling how young Will had “saved” Elizabeth from the offending fish by wading into the surf and pushing them back out to sea with the net they’d been using to catch fish and interesting debris, hollering at them to “shoo!” “For all the good it does,” he finally managed, calming down a bit.
“And I’ll yell at the squirrels when I can.”
“Yes … I believe you will.”
“When Jack’s not doing it.”
“Probably be a kindred spirit with them, as squirrelly as he is himself,” Will commented. “They’d think he was their leader or something.”
She let out another unladylike sputter at that. “King of the rodents!” she proclaimed, then clapped a hand over her mouth. “Oops, shh,” she reminded herself in a loud whisper. “Forgot where we are.”
Will coughed, trying to stem the laughter. “Don’t think he’d appreciate that one much,” he finally managed to speak, drawing ragged breaths. “Jack hates rats – picked up an alley cat months ago to keep the Pearl cleared in the bilges. The poor thing does its job so well we end up having to feed him scraps until we’ve put into port a few more days and pick up more rats from crates and such we buy.”
“Well, at least you two are evenly matched, then.” At his puzzled expression, she added, “You know – neither one of you likes rodents.”
“Yes, I believe that’s the basis for a long and lasting friendship,” Will nodded in mock solemnity. She hit him. “I was agreeing with you!”
“Wiseacre!” she hissed, nearly knocking over his tea.
“Allo?” a baritone voice called sharply from somewhere beyond the trees and fence behind Elizabeth. “Qui est-ce?”
“Blast it!” she whispered, grasping Will’s arm tightly. “He wants to know who’s in here.”
“Stay down,” he advised, leaning sideways against the ground and pulling her along. “If we’re low enough, maybe he won’t look in.”
“You honestly expect him to believe he’s hearing ghosts?”
“Might think it’s the wind or something,” Will explained terribly quietly. “Or his own imagination. Shush.”
“Est-ce quelqu'un la?” came the voice again, which Elizabeth translated as basically the same thing he’d already demanded.
They lay there like that for awhile, ears pressed to the damp, warm ground, facing one another. Elizabeth’s eyes rolled heavenward, her face pinching a bit as she obviously strained to hear the guard’s footsteps, or signs of rustling as he tried to come through the trees. Will watched her, wondering if he was still as much in love with her as he’d confessed to Jack over supper at the Red Snapper all those months ago. Certainly she was beautiful, and kind, and had a good heart and intelligent head on her lovely neck – but did he love her with the same fierce intensity he’d quietly harbored for those few years before she departed Port Royale?
“I think he’s gone,” she reported a silent eternity later.
“We really ought to get out of here,” he suggested.
“I’m with you. Lead on, MacDuff.”
On to Part 5 ...
8 Days to Departure (The Paper Chase)
“Hallo, Will!” David grinned from ear to ear, stopping short of practically throwing himself at the blacksmith, pausing inside the foyer.
Will smiled back at the boy’s enthusiasm, seeing the child’s tension in his slim, slightly-trembling frame. He closed the distance and put his arms around the boy’s shoulders in a large hug. “You’ve been all right?” he asked.
In return, David threw his arms around Will’s waist and squeezed hard. “It was grand!” he responded, pulling away a few seconds later. “They gave me sweets and a couple of books, and had a dog I played with and everything – I liked them a lot.” Then he grew more somber. “Oh, but not as much as you and Captain Sparrow, Will – sir.”
“Just ‘Will’ is fine.” He clapped a hand on the boy’s upper back. “You hungry?”
“I had breakfast this morning.”
Will grinned, knowing how David ate when given the opportunity – like an eleven-year-old boy or, to be more descriptive, like a bear after its winter nap. “That wasn’t what I asked,” he pointed out.
Sheepishly, David ducked his head a bit. “I could eat,” he admitted.
Will kept his hand on David’s back, guiding him toward the kitchen, chuckling at that answer. Both Jack and Elizabeth were still at the table when man and boy ducked in, and Jack nodded toward David, who waved back silently. As the captain went back to reading some journal he’d found in the sitting room earlier, Elizabeth rose and swept around the table toward the two. “Hello,” she greeted. “You must be David; Will’s told me you work on the Pearl as part of her crew.”
When the boy didn’t speak right away, Will glanced down, seeing that David was bobbing his head in agreement, his throat working nervously as he regarded Elizabeth with large, slightly panicked eyes. Will had to bite his lip to keep from laughing, and looked back up to Elizabeth, who met his eyes briefly with a small smile. Well, why not? I probably had a crush on her when I was eleven, too, Will reasoned. “Is there any breakfast left over?” he asked, touching David’s shoulder and indicating with a dip of his chin toward the boy.
“Oh, of course. Come right over here.” Elizabeth led the boy to the sideboard and explained he could fill his plate and join the adults at the table when he was finished. Will could hear him thank her very quietly, solemnly, and walked over to pour himself a small glass of juice as Elizabeth took her seat once again, frowning briefly at Jack and his publication, as though she wanted it for herself – only then did Will realize that sometime while she’d gotten up, Jack had switched his own well-read journal for Elizabeth’s newer paper and was now perusing it at leisure. With a sigh, she shook her head and picked up the discarded journal, clearing her throat with a sidelong glance at Jack, shaking out the paper. The noise caught his attention, and he nodded back to her with a slight squinting of his eyes and a saccharine smile. Then, in unspoken synchronization, they both dropped their expressions and went back to their reading.
The two of them could not be more different if they tried, Will observed, sipping. Elizabeth sat up straight with her back pressed into the back of the chair as it was designed, perched upon the seat with her legs to the front of the chair. Her chin dipped a bit as she read, her upswept hair showing off her long, elegant neck with its smooth, relatively freckle-free skin. Will remembered her as a girl and all the freckles splashed across her cheeks and the very upper part of her shoulders that her dresses afford a view of to the public. When she brought her hand around the journal to pick up her teacup, she grasped bone china by the handle and lifted it to her lips, sipping daint-
Elizabeth slurped her drink and raised her head automatically, looking about. “Oops,” she apologized with a small grin. “Sorry.” The teacup went back on its saucer and she cleared her throat, going back to her reading.
Will slid his attention to Jack, who was tilting his chair back at a dangerous angle, his newly-shod feet up on a cleared edge of the heavy wooden table. His posture was slumped, insouciant, not so much sitting in the chair as inventing new acrobatics for the wood to perform under his weight. For once, his black hair was quite shorter than Elizabeth’s fair mane, and he wasn’t wearing more kohl than she did. His manner was still that of a pirate, loose yet wary, as though for some unknown reason His Majesty’s own navy might break down the door and demand to introduce Jack’s neck to a bit of hemp off the gallows at any moment. But even without the kohl and the hair trinkets, he was pretty enough, with high cheekbones, an angular, vulpine face, full bottom lip, and a-
Will nearly choked on his juice, ending up with just a little cough he was easily able to cover with another quick sip. Pretty? To refer to a man? To refer to the captain of a feared vessel more famous for raiding than for her prow’s legendary beauty of design? He wasn’t at all sure that was the proper term at all; then again, it wasn’t Will’s fault Jack had a feminine grace about him, and seemed to revel in showing off such physical attributes to advantage. Not at all Will’s doing that instead of simply walking, he swayed and swished his hips much of the time, or tossed his hair in a way no other man Will had ever met would dare.
David took a seat at the table and looked about at the three. “Is this your house, Miss Elizabeth?” he finally asked his hostess, his voice timid but clear. “Or your father’s?”
She lowered her reading material. “Actually, it belongs to the English monarchy. It’s used by whomever lives and serves here as a representative of His Majesty, seeing to the interests of England – at present, that’s Mr. Shelton.”
The boy was about to ask more when a brief, sharp rapping came at the door directly behind Elizabeth. All turned their heads to see Charlie standing just beyond through the window, and Elizabeth rose, crossing the short distance to admit him. “Isn’t this your day off?” she asked as the middle-aged man stepped inside.
“I had a delivery to make to Monsieur MacLeary,” the carriage driver explained.
Will’s brows furrowed, as did Elizabeth’s by the tone of her voice. “I don’t believe there’s anyone by that name here …” she trailed off, uncertain.
“I’ll be takin’ that.” Jack slipped briefly into his regular accent as he tipped the chair forward to the floor, putting the paper aside and standing to face Charlie. The driver handed him a large leather satchel, which Jack immediately unbuckled. Peering inside, he grinned, showing off for the first time to anyone but Will in weeks a glitter of gold teeth. “Aye, that’s it.” Digging out a couple of gold pieces, he presented them to Charlie, who shook his head.
“Really, Monsieur, I could not presume-”
“Take it.” Jack’s hand-thrust gave the man little choice but to do just that. “You’re not paid to run after my bloody arse, for things like this. Twas dangerous hauling this all the way here, and I thank you for your haste.”
Charlie, who’d spoken more words so far this morning than he did in the normal course of an entire day, tipped his cap and nodded, then did the same to Elizabeth before leaving.
“MacLeary?” Will asked, surprised. “That’s your name – Jackson MacLeary?”
“Scots make th’ best sailors, lad. Or Irishmen, such as yourself.”
Will frowned, momentarily flummoxed. “My father wasn’t Irish … oh.” He forgot sometimes that Jack had known of his mother, was old enough to have met her. Because she’d died when he was so young, he knew very little about her outside of being his mother except that she was blonde, and quite tall, and that his father had always gazed at her during his visits in the strangest way that always made young Will blush to be in the same room, even if he wasn‘t old enough to understand why.
“I’d say Siobhan Shaugnessy is about as Irish a name as you can get, lad.”
Will wondered what was in the satchel, but said nothing, though he suspected. “Is there more of that so I might take David to be fitted for some clothes this morning?” he asked instead, skirting a direct question rather boldly.
Jack gave him a rather surprised look, narrowing his eyes as if trying to discern what went on in Will’s head. Will returned the gaze with equal neutrality, not so much as blinking; like much between the two men, it became a contest of sorts, to see who would look away first. Will felt the corners of his lips quirk, but restrained the grin. At that, Jack’s eyes widened fractionally, silently daring him to maintain his strict façade. Oh, hell, Will thought. I am not thinking about laughing, I am NOT thinking about laughing, or chortling, or guffawing … I am most definitely not going to giggle or snort …
A soft laugh broke their staring contest, and Will flicked his eyes toward the distraction. Elizabeth was chuckling, her hand over her mouth, shaking her head at the two of them.
“Ha!” Jack crowed, smirking.
“Excuse me?” Elizabeth asked, clearing her throat to get rid of the laughter first.
But Jack didn’t explain, and Will glared at him. The pirate gave him the same overly-sweet smile he’d shot Elizabeth over their papers earlier, letting it relax into a broad, silently laughing grin. Will narrowed his eyes.
“Pirate,” Jack mouthed soundlessly, effectively reading his blacksmith’s mind.
It didn’t occur to Will until much later that he didn’t find this so unusual.
*****
7 Days to Departure (Some News)
“I’m settin’ sail to London in a week.” Jack casually made the announcement as he and Will lagged behind Elizabeth. Their hostess was showing David around the French chancellor’s private garden just beyond his spacious meeting room. She’d had the idea the evening before that while they were visiting, the “boys” as she called them should get a bit of culture and education out of the deal.
Will’s ears had perked when she mentioned the Chancellor’s extensive weapons collection displayed in his den – but that was forgotten momentarily in the wake of Jack’s words. “You’re sailing for England.”
“I’ve some family business t’ take care of that way.”
Will blinked at that. He‘d never really thought about Jack having a family; the man just seemed so unmoored to anything, save his beloved ship. Overriding that, though, was a more pressing thought. “I see … and what about David? And me?” Well aware he had no place to presume anything, Will kept his tone neutral; he was wondering, though, what he’d done wrong that Jack would leave him behind at this point. He thought he’d been a good crewman – and more than that, a good friend – and was puzzled by the sudden news.
Jack cleared his throat. “Th’ boy travels with you best, I realize that. He’ll do what you do – and what you do depends ‘pon your own decision, mate.”
“Jack, for once, I wish you’d just speak plainly. Do you know how much time we could save if you’d say something directly and I answered it directly the first time?” He was surprised at the annoyance in his own tone. “What’re you saying, then?”
“You’re free t’ go with me, if tha’s what you want; th’ both of you are.”
“Is there a reason we shouldn’t want to?”
“Now, I suppose that’s th’ question ye ought t’ be askin’ yourself, savvy?” Just as Will was about to demand more clarity again, his eyes followed the slight swivel of Jack’s head, and his gaze settled with the older man’s on Elizabeth Swann. Jack’s voice dropped further. “Do you really wan’ leave, Will?”
“I-” The blacksmith hesitated, his gaze fixed on the pair – the woman he’d spent so many years chasing and the boy who tagged along after him. He’d never had any compunction about protecting or staying with either of them.
“That’s what I thought.” Jack turned his dark eyes on Will again, indulgently. “Ye know, maybe there’s a reason you ended up here after all – same way I ended up in your shop th’ very time I needed ye to help me get me Pearl back.”
Will swallowed, glancing toward Elizabeth again, then back to Jack. He was confused and felt a large weight had settled somewhere between his shoulder blades, which also somehow reached clear through his chest, down into his stomach, and was clenching. “I’m not sure what I’m wanting – this is a bit fast for me.” What do you mean, it’s fast? It’s Elizabeth! She left you almost a year ago, and you’ve ended up where she went – in all this big, wide world, you two have ended up across an ocean in the same place, together. Didn’t Jack just say it might be fate? What proof do you need?
Jack shook his head, eyes unreadable. “Th’ way of th’ world, boy; life rarely sits still for any of us to make up our minds proper-like. Moves too fast.”
“Too fast to change our minds, as well?” Will liked having options, and was fast learning that stuck in a port town doing the same work day in and day out preserved most options for an indefinite amount of time; globe-trotting with Captain Jack Sparrow did not allow such luxuries.
“Quite often,” Jack admitted with a nod. “But you’re pretty stolid – I don’t see ye changin’ your mind too much, once you’ve made it up. Kind of like ol’ William, that way.”
“Hmm.” Will said nothing beyond the noncommittal sigh, and Jack clapped him on the shoulder. “One word of advice, though, lad: Ne’er do anythin’ regarding a lady’s heart without her say-so, first. Most don’t like it, an’ I daresay ‘Lizbeth would appreciate it even less.”
*****
6 Days to Departure (Sitting Up With the Dead)
“Elizabeth … there're squirrels in France too, right?”
“It’s not as though they’re going to hurt you,” the young woman answered, leading the way through recently-muddy ground to the front gate. “Just keep a sharp eye this time.”
“Keep a sharp eye.” Good grief, she sounds like Jack. Will held his lantern aloft to get a better look at the trail. “Aren’t we a bit old for this?”
“You stop playing ‘Pirates’ and I’ll stop playing ‘Explorer,’” she shot back with more cheek than even she usually displayed. Then again, what could a man reasonably expect from a woman pushing branches out of her face, wearing breeches and suspenders and men’s boots at eleven p.m.?
“It’s not exploring – it’s breaking and entering.”
“Says the man who takes orders from the king of high-seas felonies.”
“Jack’s not the king of felonies,” Will shook his head, pushing branches away while balancing the lantern. “At most, he’s court treasurer of felonies – maybe the jester, who knows?”
She laughed at that. “Wouldn’t let him hear you say that; he might take it personally, as an affront to his vaunted title.”
“He has a much better sense of humor than all that,” Will automatically defended. “He makes a lot of jokes at his own expense, and doesn’t really mind it from the crew. Especially Anamaria.” He thought of how much good-natured grief he gave Jack, how it had come to be second nature, really – a reflex, most of the time – and how the captain would either pointedly ignore his comments or simply gaze back as harmlessly as if he were regarding a stone statue.
Ah, but if Will got angry – that was another matter. Jack would grin, his angular features taking on an almost vulpine expression, showing both upper gold canines. And Will reflected he probably showed annoyance more often than did Jack and, to be fair, probably had less reason to do so – after all, it wasn’t his ship. He wasn’t in charge of making sure it stayed afloat, and he certainly wasn’t the one who always had to keep the chance of mutiny or capture in the back of his brain.
“Will Turner, have you heard a word I‘ve said?”
Indeed, he hadn’t. He wondered why he’d been wool-gathering on such an odd spot as Jack Sparrow, especially since by her stance and tone it was pretty clear Elizabeth had been trying to get his attention for at least several seconds. “Just thinking about that damn squirrel again,” he explained. Or maybe a fox. He immediately felt guilty for lying, wondering why his gut reaction had been to prevaricate about Jack.
The woman was not easily fooled, and she lifted an eyebrow at him. “What I was saying,” she spoke slowly and clearly, hands on her slim hips, “is that you might want to put some of those pirating skills to use – the gate’s locked and needs to be picked if we’re to get in.”
“Well, pirating won’t do me much good there,” Will answered, reaching into his vest for a set of slender irons. “The blacksmith part might, though.” His hand froze mid-retrieval, and he furrowed his brow – when had it become automatic that he’d break into a place rather than counsel leaving it alone as any honest bloke ought?
Now she was laughing, apparently having divined the same conclusion. “You really have changed, you know?” she grinned. “Not entirely for the worse, though.”
Will stuck his tongue out at her, and she only laughed harder, hand over her mouth to muffle the sound in the quiet of the night. He realized he hadn’t done that since they were both children still tutoring together in her father’s den; in the years since, he’d been far too intimidated by and enamored of her to attempt such a childish gesture. “I’ve had some bad influences, savvy?” He delivered a fair imitation of Jack’s tone in a stage whisper, and now they were both laughing.
When they’d both calmed down, Elizabeth spoke again. “Who would’ve thought anyone could ever bring ‘Truthful Turner’ down a couple of notches?”
“Excuse me?”
“You. What we used to call you,” she offered by way of explanation. Clearly, “we” had been the few children of the village allowed to run with the governor’s daughter; Will had been the only one without parents or a suitable inheritance. “Remember when Michael stole that collection tin from the church, and you told on him? Or when Jennifer took the candy from the basket at the shop? You’re the one who told her mother all about it. Really, I didn’t think anything could ever corrupt you.”
“Well, they didn’t have any business taking anything,” he nearly snapped, childhood memories of being the outcast tolerated for Elizabeth’s sake coming back to him. “Their parents could buy them the sun and moon, if they’d wanted it.”
“And you think Jack is a pauper?” She regarded him skeptically. “Will … he’s pilfered enough treasure by now to buy and sell Port Royale, if what was back in that cave’s any indication! He’s not poor.” She quirked her lips. “And I don’t think he grew up poor, either.”
“What makes you say that?” Will closed his eyes and calmed himself; she’d done nothing wrong, so why was he still snapping? Opening his eyes again, he said in a much more civil tone, “Why do you think that?”
She was giving him a curious look, appraising, but eventually answered, “I don’t know, exactly. Call it woman’s intuition – there’s just something about him that doesn’t strike me as ‘London street urchin,’ is all. Not exactly royalty, either … but definitely he had some advantages. For one, he can speak perfectly properly when he so desires.”
“So can I.”
“Because you had the benefit of an education, thanks to Father.” Now it was her turn to close her eyes and look chagrined. “Sorry, Will – I’m not trying to rub that in. What I mean is that somewhere along the way, Jack learned speech, and social manners, that he just doesn’t use. Can he write as well as he reads?” Will nodded. “From everything we learned about pirates, you don’t find that just a touch odd?”
“Norrington wasn’t exactly the most neutral instructor,” he pointed out. The naval officer had taught Elizabeth, Will, and many of the other island children history an hour a day during their tutoring, not to mention the time they’d spent up at the garrison listening to tales about his and the other sailors’ run-ins with pirate vessels.
“Yes, but he’s honorable enough.”
“Meaning I’m not, anymore?” Will stepped around Elizabeth and climbed the last few steps to the gate, vines twisted around the iron, still dotted with moisture from that afternoon’s rain.
A silence hung between them as he worked at the lock, and then he heard not too far behind him her quiet, “I’m sorry, Will.”
“Sorry for what?” He had a metal rod shoved up inside the lock, hunched over to put his ear close to it to listen for the telltale tumble, but it wasn’t budging yet.
She sighed. “For … everything. For making it look like I was running away from you, from what you said to me. That you loved me.”
“Isn’t that what you did?” Pick, rattle, withdraw, shove, rattle. “Dammit! This isn’t a difficult lock!” he hissed, crouching down further to concentrate more on the metal. He was glad to have the distraction from the sudden turn in conversation.
“No, actually, I was running away from all of it – Father, James, having to be forced into marriage, Port Royale.” She paused a pregnant moment. “Well, and yes … you, too. I wasn’t ready to be tied down to anyone or anything, and I don’t know why women don’t get a choice, when men get to pick what they want to do all the bloody time.”
“Not all the time. Blacksmithing wouldn’t have been my first choice, I assure you.”
“I know.” They were both likely recalling Will’s brief episode of hero worship when they all first sailed into Port Royale, and how he used to find any excuse he could to go to the fort and follow then-Lieutenant Norrington around, pestering him with occasional questions about ships and the navy. The young officer had been infinitely patient, his only indication of annoyance with the boy the occasional sigh and a certain way he sometimes gravely intoned “Mr. Turner” when the questions simply peppered too quickly. The worship of Norrington himself had eventually worn down to general respect for an elder, but Will’s fascination with ships and the sea had remained strong, despite his boyhood trauma. More than once he’d told Elizabeth of his desire to join the Royal Navy once he was of age, but by the time he was, his limited formal education and pedigree made it an impossibility. Elizabeth continued, “But I didn’t think piracy would have been, either.”
“Was good enough for my father.” The tumblers clicked this time, but still no dice. Will growled in the back of his throat and went at the lock like a man possessed, as he talked. “I mean, I would have preferred something respectable, but at least it’s not being stuck in a shop all day, the rest of my life, growing stooped and bent – or worse, ending up like Brown.”
“I’m not judging you, Will; I was just making a comment.”
Will didn’t trust himself to answer until, after what seemed a lifetime by the burn in his hunched shoulders, the lock clicked loudly enough to signal success, and he was able to swing the heavy gate outward. “I realize that; believe me, I know when you’re being judgmental, Lizzie.” He gestured grandly, bowing. “After you, milady.”
“What do you mean, judgmental?” She gathered up the basket she’d been carrying and had set down while he worked, scowling as she preceded him into the cemetery.
He grinned as he followed, leaving the gate open so they could get out later. No use doing the work twice. “Meaning what you think it means. You do tend to judge people sometimes.”
“I do not!”
“So you weren’t judging Jack when you found out he was the one who’d brought the Interceptor to save you? Funny, but I know that tone of voice, and it wasn’t a happy tone.”
“Will, the man used me for a human shield not a week before! I wasn’t being judgmental – I was being understandably apprehensive about his motives. For good reason, as I recall.”
Will shrugged, though she couldn’t see him. “We’re both still alive.” Once was the time he’d been equally angry with the pirate and his sneaky plans, but Jack had more than made up for it by protecting the both of them against Barbossa as much as he could. “Besides, it wasn’t like he got us into the whole situation in the first place.. And he did save you from drowning.”
“Must you remind me?” She sounded so exasperated and defeated that Will couldn’t help laughing, careful to keep his deep chuckle to a dull roar. “Damn infuriating man – like most of them aren’t.”
“Watch it, now.”
“He doesn’t infuriate you?”
Silence.
“That’s what I figured.”
*****
5 Days to Departure (Dining With the Dead After Midnight)
“We’ve read every stone in here, and not one squirrel,” Elizabeth pronounced as they found themselves at the diagonal end of the cemetery from the gate roughly two hours later.
He rolled his eyes. “I’m not really scared of squirrels, you know.”
“I know no such thing, Will Turner. For all I know, you could be terrified of the poor little helpless creatures. After all, I know how threatening they can be to a big, strong man like yourself.” She smirked, a twinkle in her eye.
“At least they’re not minnows,” he baited dryly.
Her jaw tightened. “Minnows don’t bother me.”
“Anymore,” he corrected. “I seem to remember a certain ten-year-old running screeching from the water when they started ‘attacking’ her unprotected ankles-”
“I didn’t know it wasn’t a jellyfish!” she protested. “I didn’t run that fast, and I most certainly did not screech.”
“Let’s see … you outran the dog, and you scared every bird off the beach, with all your waving and dancing about, and screaming.”
She withdrew a napkin from the basket and waved it about then. “All right, truce,” she hastened to shut him up, flapping the material in his face. “Since this is the only truce you pirates understand?” When he stuck his tongue out again, she quickly shoved the napkin between his parted lips, and he spit out the dry material, catching it as it fell. “Serves you right. You want something to eat?”
And so they made themselves comfortable on an old horse blanket Elizabeth had managed to pilfer from Charlie’s stable and ate, each left to their own thoughts as they munched silently by the glow of the lantern. Will finally found the courage to speak up. “There’s something that’s been on my mind … since you left.”
“You want to know why I left?”
“No, I think I’ve figured that out.” He put aside his empty napkin, having eaten the cakes wrapped in it. “It’s … well, I’m curious about us. Maybe I was just not being very perceptive, but I did think you were interested in possibly pursuing … something, with you and me. How far wrong was I?”
“Hmm. At one time, not wrong at all, really. I mean, right after the kidnapping and Barbossa, I would have been quite amenable to the idea of you and I spending the rest of our days together – or at least to seeing if such a match could have worked.”
He wasn’t sure how to feel about the missed opportunity. “What changed?”
“Me,” she answered without hesitation. “I was quite excited by the adventure we’d had, and I have to admit that Jack turned out to be a lot less …” She trailed off, looking about, searching for a word. “Reprehensible, than I’d been raised to believe pirates really are. And with your father being a pirate, why that made you seem very attractive – not to mention all you did to come after me, and rescue me,” she added with a smile. “But as the months went by, I started thinking more about what had happened, itself, and less about you and your part in it.” She reached over and briefly touched his arm. “I hope not to offend you, Will. I still consider you one of my best friends.”
“No – go on,” he encouraged with a nod, his attention fixed totally on Elizabeth.
“The more I thought about it all, the more I understood that was what I wanted. Oh, not being kidnapped and almost killed, and cut on, and bartered with – but the travel, and the excitement, and matching wits … well, those parts I actually rather liked. Barbossa was a bastard of the first order, but I was able to hold my own with him pretty well. I finally just told Father that I wanted to do more than sit around and embroider samplers and plan parties all the time.” Her expression and gestures were growing animated. “I told him if I were a boy, he’d try to help me do anything I thought I could be good at, and since I was as smart as any boy, I ought to be given the same consideration. That my brain wasn’t any less than a son’s would be, and that’s the part that does all the real work, anyway.”
“And so he found this post for you.”
She wrinkled her nose in contemplation. “Not at first, no. But eventually, he changed his mind – I think he was afraid it was either this, or I might just disappear some night and run off to join a pirate crew,” she chuckled.
“Wouldn’t you have?” Will teased.
“No offense, Will, but I like to be cleaner than that on a regular basis. Bilge water isn’t good for my complexion.” She winked at him. “That, and there’s the little matter of worrying if you’re going to be captured or killed on a daily basis.”
“Strictly speaking, you can only be killed once.”
She rolled her eyes and shook her head. “As I was saying,” she gave him a pseudo-stern look, “I finally talked Father into letting me pursue something for myself, rather than sitting around waiting to marry someone pursuing his own work. And yes, he did help me obtain this post, but it was my idea to try for this kind of work, and I contacted all the suitable people by letter.”
Will couldn’t help it; he’d been dying of curiosity since the day Elizabeth had told him she was sailing for England. “And Norrington let you go?”
“Well … really, he had no choice. He had no claim upon me – I was hardly his prize hen. I don’t expect he liked the idea much, and he did try to talk me out of it twice, but eventually he relented and graciously allowed me my leave. Poor James,” she added as an afterthought, it seemed, a slight frown tugging at her mouth. “He really was much better about it than any man would reasonably be expected to be, under the circumstances.”
Will drank some tea from the pitcher she’d brought along as he considered how to phrase his next question. “Are you sorry you left him?” He hesitated a beat. “Or me?”
She opened her mouth, then shut it abruptly, nose wrinkling in what he recognized as her “thinking” face. Good. Whatever I hear will at least be honest, he thought with equal measures of satisfaction and apprehension. “I don’t think I would make anyone a very good wife right now,” she finally answered. “There’s still too much I’d like to do before I marry and have children; moreover, I’d like to marry someone who’s sure he wants me for me, and not because it will complete his social agenda in some way.”
“Norrington.”
“I believe that was at the fore of his proposal, yes,” she admitted. “You never did hear how he proposed to me – he made it sound like a business deal, or completing a jigsaw puzzle with the last corner piece. No, actually, I suppose children would have been the last corner piece,” she corrected. “At any rate, I was the governor’s daughter, I was reasonably attractive and well-mannered, and I was female and of marriageable age. I’m not sure James ever saw Elizabeth so much as he saw that next-to-last puzzle piece.”
“Maybe,” Will said. “Then again, maybe he was just intimidated by you. You tend to have that effect on men.”
She grinned, an acknowledgement that he spoke from personal experience. “And you … Will, I do love you, honestly, but you were just so … earnest. And young; you’re no older than me. You haven’t seen the world yet, either; even now, you’ve only visited a small portion of it. You’re no more ready to take on a wife and children than I am to settle down – and I think deep down, you know that.”
He granted her a small smile, letting that sink in. He’d spent so long imagining his perfect life with perfect Elizabeth and their perfect house that he hadn’t given much thought to the daily grind required to make such a relationship work. “Maybe I’m older than I look, eh?” he ventured.
“You’ve always been older than your age,” she amended. “That’s part of the problem – I didn’t want you waking up one day and realizing you’d never done anything fun, anything adventurous or spontaneous in your life. And I didn’t want to be the same way.”
He had to ask, even if he suspected he knew the answer. “Do you suppose there’s any way you and I would ever court and marry, even a few years from now?”
“Will, I have no idea.” She shook her head to punctuate it. “I’m no gypsy fortune-teller. I’d say come back and ask me in five years … but I don‘t think you‘ll want to.”
“I – I’ve idolized you for so long,” he confessed. “I don’t remember the last time we just sat down and had a conversation – too many years.”
She smiled, a bit sadly. “I know. That’s another reason I couldn’t marry you if I wanted to, now. You don’t really know who I am anymore. I don’t know you, either.”
She scooted a bit closer and reached out to take his hands, squeezing them in her smaller, more delicate fingers and bringing them together between them. “But I know you’ll always be honorable, and a good man, no matter what you’re doing – and that includes being a pirate. And I know you’ll always be my friend, and that I can count on you to do just about anything I’d ask of you, even if it isn’t always good for you.” She squeezed tighter, and he could see she was smiling brightly, trying to keep her eyes dry. “And I know if there’s vicious minnows within a knot in sight, you‘ll shoo them away.”
They both started guffawing at that, recalling how young Will had “saved” Elizabeth from the offending fish by wading into the surf and pushing them back out to sea with the net they’d been using to catch fish and interesting debris, hollering at them to “shoo!” “For all the good it does,” he finally managed, calming down a bit.
“And I’ll yell at the squirrels when I can.”
“Yes … I believe you will.”
“When Jack’s not doing it.”
“Probably be a kindred spirit with them, as squirrelly as he is himself,” Will commented. “They’d think he was their leader or something.”
She let out another unladylike sputter at that. “King of the rodents!” she proclaimed, then clapped a hand over her mouth. “Oops, shh,” she reminded herself in a loud whisper. “Forgot where we are.”
Will coughed, trying to stem the laughter. “Don’t think he’d appreciate that one much,” he finally managed to speak, drawing ragged breaths. “Jack hates rats – picked up an alley cat months ago to keep the Pearl cleared in the bilges. The poor thing does its job so well we end up having to feed him scraps until we’ve put into port a few more days and pick up more rats from crates and such we buy.”
“Well, at least you two are evenly matched, then.” At his puzzled expression, she added, “You know – neither one of you likes rodents.”
“Yes, I believe that’s the basis for a long and lasting friendship,” Will nodded in mock solemnity. She hit him. “I was agreeing with you!”
“Wiseacre!” she hissed, nearly knocking over his tea.
“Allo?” a baritone voice called sharply from somewhere beyond the trees and fence behind Elizabeth. “Qui est-ce?”
“Blast it!” she whispered, grasping Will’s arm tightly. “He wants to know who’s in here.”
“Stay down,” he advised, leaning sideways against the ground and pulling her along. “If we’re low enough, maybe he won’t look in.”
“You honestly expect him to believe he’s hearing ghosts?”
“Might think it’s the wind or something,” Will explained terribly quietly. “Or his own imagination. Shush.”
“Est-ce quelqu'un la?” came the voice again, which Elizabeth translated as basically the same thing he’d already demanded.
They lay there like that for awhile, ears pressed to the damp, warm ground, facing one another. Elizabeth’s eyes rolled heavenward, her face pinching a bit as she obviously strained to hear the guard’s footsteps, or signs of rustling as he tried to come through the trees. Will watched her, wondering if he was still as much in love with her as he’d confessed to Jack over supper at the Red Snapper all those months ago. Certainly she was beautiful, and kind, and had a good heart and intelligent head on her lovely neck – but did he love her with the same fierce intensity he’d quietly harbored for those few years before she departed Port Royale?
“I think he’s gone,” she reported a silent eternity later.
“We really ought to get out of here,” he suggested.
“I’m with you. Lead on, MacDuff.”
On to Part 5 ...
