Hello everyone!!! I hope you enjoy this oneshot. I've been working hard on it, and I'm pretty pround with most of it. But I'll let y'all be the judge of that.
This is dedicated to my best friend Bethany, as always, and also to Meggie (lateBloomer04). Thank you so much for all your kind words, and for really helping me break through my writer's block by posting that Santa challenge. It really means a lot to me. And because of the 1000+ reviews on AMTHGF. You go girl! ; )
When There's a Will, There's a Way
"Elizabeth, you look positively beautiful!" said her father to her that evening as she descended the spiraling staircase. The girl smiled. She had been preparing all afternoon for the occasion; her hair had been done in curls, rouge had been applied to her well-defined cheekbones, her necklace and earrings had been carefully selected, and her beautiful new dress had been slipped on, which, when she had looked in the mirror, she had been pleased to see curved in all the right places. The beauty in the most sophisticated shade of red was glowing from the inside out with excitement and a touch of anxiousness, her brown eyes sparkling in the sun's last rays coming through the open window. And, what was the occasion? Today was her sixteenth birthday, and today, she would be brought out into society. She had been looking forward to this day for quite some time now. Long had she watched the elegant and sophisticated ways of the upper-class women and the polite and courteous doings of the amiable men from afar. No longer would she be waiting on the side. Today, she would witness their dainty and charming life first-hand. Today, Elizabeth Swann would become a woman. At least, in society's eyes.
"Thank you, Father," she replied graciously as she stepped down from the last gleaming step of the stairs. He fondly cupped his only child's chin, tears glistening in his worn eyes.
"Oh, Elizabeth. It seems like only yesterday you were just a small girl, singing about fantasies and pirates." Elizabeth laughed.
"Some things never change, Father," the old man chuckled, his bright smile reaching his eyes and beyond.
"You've become a beautiful young woman, Elizabeth. Just like your mother. She would be so proud of you, as I am," he told her. Tears threatening to spill from the honey colored depths of her eyes, she embraced her dear father.
"But I'll always be your little girl, Father," his daughter reassured him.
"Yes, you will always be my little, free-spirited, fiery, pirate-loving daughter. Even long after you've gotten married and have children of your own." He sighed, and walked to the window to look as the last sliver of sun disappeared beyond the horizon.
"Don't be so melancholy, Father. I'm still here," she walked over to him and patted the rich blue sleeve of his jacket.
"For now. But today is a big day for you. You're entering society. Soon, someone will ask permission to court you, and eventually may ask me for your hand. He will be someone who's respected, honored, and noble. You know," he eyed his daughter playfully, "I've already heard of a couple who have their eye on you. What about Captain Norrington? He's a very fine man. Good standings."
"Father," Elizabeth said, mortified, her face turning a shade darker than her dress. He smiled jokingly back at her. "We'd best be going. I don't want to be late for my first ball." She could hardly contain her excitement. A ball! Held in her honor! She would get to dance with all the eligible men of the small town of Port Royal. At least, all the high-class men, she thought with a sigh. There was one man that she was certain would not be attending, and he was the one man she wished was going. When asking her Father why he was not on the guest list, her father had credited it to propriety, a word that seemed to haunt her where this man was concerned. She contemplated this as she rode in the carriage to the grand hall. William Turner was her best friend. He had always been, since the day she found him floating on a piece of wood in the ocean. But, one day, when they were fourteen, her father had said that they were too old to continue playing. She had been devastated, as her father had prohibited her from seeing him. He told her that it was because of propriety, but she hadn't understood why it was such a big deal. What would be so cruel as to pull two people apart? She could not comprehend why Father had said that people would talk. Will was a good man, a hard-working, respectable man who obeyed the law. What was so wrong with being his friend? But, her father would not concede. So, she had taken to seeing Will when she was in town near the smithy. She loved the times she got to see him, even if it was only for five or ten minutes. Her heart would flutter and her eyes would sparkle as soon as she spotted him. After all, he was her best friend.
When they finally arrived at their destination, she got out of the carriage, excited. Even if her best friend could not be present, she would have a good time at the ball. She was sure of it.
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A bead of sweat rolled down the small of his back as William Turner pounded away at the sword he was making. The air around him was boiling, suffocating him with its searing hands. He wiped his gleaming forehead with the damp sleeve of his white shirt that was clinging to his well-defined body. Looking around the darkened smithy, he thought it would be beneficial to light some more candles and maybe open a window or two before he fainted of heat stroke. But as he looked down at the sword he was crafting, he couldn't leave it. He was almost finished with it, and he could just feel, with every fiber of his being, that this was going to be the best sword he'd ever made. The best sword he probably would ever make, too. He couldn't bear to stop working on it for more than a moment, so he brushed aside the stifling appendages of the atmosphere and returned to the masterpiece. Lovingly, stroke after stroke, he pounded away at the metal until it was as smooth as he could humanly make it. He held it up, the smooth blade gleaming in the little candlelight there was. It was perfect. With a feeling of satisfaction, he polished the sword until he could see his reflection in ever inch before putting it away safely. Yes, it was, without a doubt, the best sword he had ever made. Wiping his hands on a rag, he crossed the smithy to the window closest to the door and opened it with a tug.
"William!" He turned around at the sound of his name to see his master, Mr. Brown, standing sluggishly behind him.
"Yes sir?" he asked with respect.
"Mind closing up shop when you're done? I'm headed home for the night," he replied in his rugged slur. Will knew that this was the biggest lie, for Mr. Brown rarely made it straight home without stopping at a pub for something to drink, but he replied affirmatively all the same. Mr. Brown exited the smithy with a creak from the door, and Will was left alone again. He liked being alone. It was the best time to think. And when Will had time to sit and think for a long period of time, his thoughts would usually turn to a certain young lady by the name of Miss Swann.
Today was no different.
Will knew that there was a ball being held tonight in honor of her. He was not ignorant. He also knew why he was not invited. He wasn't brainless. He knew what he loved was only a dream, a figment of his imagination, but that did not stop him from wishing. Wanting to love her openly, and be loved by her. He wished so desperately that he could be there as she walked down the staircase into society, but he couldn't. He wasn't allowed. He was of the working class. Not even a blacksmith, but the blacksmith's apprentice. And while Miss Swann was dancing and socializing with all the rich, stuck up men of the town, Will was stuck in the smithy, away from her. He hoped that she was having a good time. He imagined her dancing with a man who was older, richer, and in far better standings that himself. Someone like Captain Norrington. He shuddered at the thought. Yes, Will had heard that the Captain had his eyes on the governor's only daughter, and he didn't like it. Will had always admired how fiery and spirited Miss Swann was. Seeing her with the stiff and shy Captain Norrington made him angry. He would be fine with her marrying someone other than himself, because, to be honest with himself, he knew he would never in a million years have that chance. It would take a miracle. But the one thing he didn't want to happen was to see her fire being put out by someone. He didn't want her to be harnessed and paraded for all to see. He wanted her to be able to be herself with whomever it was that would take her hand. He knew that Captain Norrington would not let her accomplish that. He was of too high of standards. But, Will also knew he was probably the number one candidate for Miss Swann's hand in the Governor's eyes. He hated to think of Miss Swann as a prize, but he knew that that was exactly how she would be treated. And he also knew that she had been looking forward to entering society. If she only knew what it would be like.
But, Will relented, if that was what made her happy, then he would be content with it.
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Elizabeth had never been more wrong in her life. No, she was not having a good time at the ball. She was having a terrible time. When she first arrived at the door of the party, everyone oohed and ahhed at her fine dress and beauty. That she had not minded. But the first gentleman who asked her to dance had stepped on her foot three times before the first number was finished. She was sure that her big toe was bruised, if not broken. That was definitely not how she thought of society. Wasn't it supposed to be elegant, not painful? She had had a fairly pleasant time dancing with Captain Norrington, until she found that her father had been right about his affections towards her. She discovered about two minutes into their first set that the poor man could not make civilized conversation with her on account of his nerves. And, quite frankly, it was annoying her. Not to mention the blush that had made its way from the bottom of his neck to the tip of his ears. She quickly but ever so politely excused herself when the song had ended and went to find other company. A group of two young women invited her to socialize with them, and she decided that the scene looked favorable. One woman in a pale blue dress, no more than two years her senior, looked particularly amiable, so she decided to join their conversation.
"Miss Swann, what a lovely ball this is!" the young woman said to her as she walked towards them.
"Why, thank you, Miss…?" she trailed off, hoping to find the girl's name.
"Oh, Johnson, Miss Swann. Katherine Johnson. And this is my cousin, Jane Adams," she informed her with a curtsy. Elizabeth dipped into a curtsy herself, her long neck curving gracefully like a swan's.
"It's a pleasure to meet you, Miss Johnson, Miss Adams," she smiled graciously.
"We were just speaking of Miss Ashbury's dress. What is your opinion of it, Miss Swann?" Miss Adams asked her with a smirk. Elizabeth glanced at the named girl, who she was somewhat acquainted with. Miss Ashbury was adorned in a canary yellow gown with lace and ribbon artistically placed. Elizabeth had to admit, she would never wear the dress, but it seemed to grace Miss Ashbury with a beautiful figure and an air of independence, as she knew the young woman to possess. Elizabeth turned back to Miss Adams.
"I think it looks quite lovely on her," Elizabeth proclaimed with a polite yet genuine smile. Miss Adams chuckled snobbishly.
"Yes, quite lovely, if your aim is to ward off all sensible men," she replied nastily. Elizabeth glared at her. Although Emily Ashbury was not a close friend, she felt need to defend her from this stuck-up woman. "Although I probably shouldn't be saying that," she continued. "I heard that she's engaged. To Mr. Briley."
"No wonder she has a dress like that. He only gets five hundred a year. It's a wonder he's even regarded as upper-class," Miss Johnson added. The two of them laughed. Elizabeth couldn't take it any more. She had only been in society for an hour at most, and it was stifling her. She had thought it would be elegant, beautiful, and posh. Now, she saw the truth: these people were stuck-up, snobbish rich people who didn't have anything better to do than gossip. There was no way she was staying here any longer.
"Excuse me, Miss Johnson. Miss Adams." She curtsied, and then hurried off to the edge of the room. Glancing around, she was quite certain that no one had seen her, so she snuck out the door.
Elizabeth was not sure what to do with her stolen freedom. She couldn't return home, for one of the servants was sure to see her and send for her father immediately, and there was no way she was going to be forced to go back into that wretched party. So she decided just to walk. It would give her time to be alone, to think. She rarely had the time to be alone, save for at night when she was sleeping. But no rational thought ever came from dreaming.
She started off down the road, passing shop after shop with locked doors and dark windows. Her thoughts wandered from the events of that night to her childhood. From her childhood to her future. She could not see any hope for her future, for she knew that she could not always sneak out of balls and parties. She knew that she would eventually have to suffer through ball after ball, conversing with snobbish women and dancing with inept men. She wished she could just run away, back to the days of childhood, where things weren't so complex. She wished she could be with Will again. He always knew how to cheer her up. But, as she passed the smithy, she saw the dark windows, and sighed sadly. He had already closed down. Miserably, she walked down the winding road, not knowing where it would lead her to.
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Staring out the dark window, Will's breath hitched as he saw a beautiful figure move across the road. He knew that figure with out a doubt. It was none other than Miss Swann! Will bolted for the window to make sure it was really her. Yes, he could not mistake her. She walked down the street, her back toward the window, her scarlet gown illuminating in the moonlight. Will furrowed his brow. If she was out walking, surely she would have come by to see him, right? Then he remembered the lack of candles in the smithy. He cursed under his breath. If only he had stopped working on that sword long enough to light some candles! Miss Swann would have seen the light and come in. He was angry at missing his opportunity for a sword, a sword that would never be as perfect as Miss Swann. He sprinted to the door and unlatched the lock to follow her, but stopped. What would happen if someone should see them, especially this late at night? For propriety's sake, he put the lock firmly in place. He could not risk her reputation just to see her. It was not worth it.
Sighing, he walked over to where he had laid his masterpiece. Smiling proudly, he picked it back up and slashed it through the air. Yes, it was perfect. Its balance was ideal, the blade just the right length, and the handle smooth yet firm, for optimal grip. He sighed again when he realized that he would have to sell it. It was a shame, he decided, to put so much work in a sword that would get bought by the military and hardly ever be used. Then, an idea came to him. What if he didn't sell it? Mr. Brown would never notice; half the time, he was drunk, and the rest of the day, he was doing anything but working in the smithy. It had been many years since Mr. Brown had made a sword in the shop. No one would ever know it was gone. Save himself, of course, but he couldn't bear to part with such a beautiful and strong sword.
Just like Elizabeth, he thought. "No, it's Miss Swann!" He hastily corrected himself. He couldn't go around thinking like that. What would happen if he accidentally called her by her Christian name in front of other people? He certainly put propriety to shame, that was for sure. Wishing and hoping for a girl he knew he would never have. He sighed dejectedly.
"Okay," he declared to himself, "This sword is too perfect to sell, and Miss Swann is too perfect for me. So, I vow never to give this sword to anyone save her. The most perfect and beautiful woman should get the most perfect and beautiful sword." And with that, he carefully sheathed his work of art and stored it safely in his room in the back of the smithy. As he walked back into the dark smithy, he heard a distant rumble of thunder.
"Miss Swann!" He thought aloud. She was probably still outside, walking unchaperoned, with a storm approaching. To hell with propriety. He had to make sure she was safe. Grabbing his jacket and a sword (just in case, he thought), he ran out of the smithy to the oncoming rain.
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Elizabeth was enjoying herself now. The cool night air embraced her like an old friend as she walked across the soft green grass. The stars winked at her amusedly, as if they knew she had run away from her own party. She smiled to herself. She remembered playing in this field with Will when they were younger. They would run across it, shouting and laughing with joy. Elizabeth laughed at the memory. She always won when they raced, but she suspected now that she had not been the faster of the two of them. The chivalrous and gentle Will would have let her win. A sudden urge ran through her body. She wanted so badly to run across the field as she had done as a child. Smiling to herself, she removed her shoes (for she knew that they would be bothersome to run in) and took off into the wind. She laughed jubilantly as she ran, thick strands of her hair falling out of her elegant bun. Before long, it had all fallen down and was streaming behind her like a kite's tail. She spun around, frolicking and skipping, when she heard a clap of thunder. Within a split second, the rain started.
"Oh!" She exclaimed as she felt the heavy drops of water on her face. She knew she would be in trouble when she made it home. Worried, she began sprinting across the slick grass.
"Ow!" With a twist of her ankle, Elizabeth fell to the ground. She winced in pain as she held the sore ankle. Now how was she to get home? Her father would be worried sick. She tried to move the slowly swelling foot, but to no avail; every small centimeter she moved felt like a knife jabbed into her ankle.
"Miss Swann?" she heard a voice cry nearby. She looked over her shoulder to find a very soaked Will rushing to her side.
"Will!" she breathed as she looked into his dark brown eyes and smiled. Her best friend was here to save her.
"Are you alright, Miss Swann?" his voice was laced with concern. "What happened?"
"Will, call me Elizabeth. I was escaping from my ball and decided to walk out here, when it started raining and I fell. I think I've sprained my ankle," she informed him, wincing slightly as he lightly fingered the bare ankle. He blushed, as he realized the somewhat compromising situation he had placed upon himself, but he brushed it aside. He had to get Elizabeth (Miss Swann! He reprimanded himself) home. Her father would be sick with worry.
"Can you walk?" She shook her head, beads of rain flying off of her no-longer-curly hair. Will hesitated for a moment, propriety still on his mind, then made his decision.
"Well, Miss Swann, I guess I'm going to have to carry you," he said, as he moved to pick her lithe body up. She swatted his hand away. He blushed again.
"No. You're not taking me anywhere until you promise to call me Elizabeth. I've had enough formality and…propriety," she spat the word out like it was a curse, "tonight to last me a lifetime. You're my best friend, Will," she added, her tone soft, "You can call me Elizabeth." Will nodded after only a split-second of hesitation.
"As you wish, Elizabeth," she grinned happily as he lifted her into his muscular arms. She was very light, as he would have expected. He carried her easily across the field as the rain subsided.
"That was a quick shower," Elizabeth noted. Will agreed audibly.
"Why aren't you at your party?" Elizabeth let out a huff of a sigh.
"Society wasn't as nice I suspected it would be," she started as he walked along. Will chuckled silently to himself. "The first man I danced with stepped on my foot three times! And Captain Norrington couldn't manage to string together a comprehensive sentence because of his nerves!" She laughed. Will gave a chuckle, and inwardly was relieved that Elizabeth showed no interest in the Captain. "And, on top of that, all the ladies were gossiping and going on about each other. I couldn't stand it! I don't belong there," she confided in him. Will smiled sympathetically at her. "Sometimes I wish we could just go back to when we were young. We were so carefree, nothing to worry or fret about." There was a pause.
"We can't always have what we wish for, Elizabeth," he looked sadly and longingly into the honey abyss of her eyes. "It's just a fact of life."
She sighed. "If I could only have one wish, though, I would wish I could see you more."
"I would, too," he told her sadly. "But, I'm in my rightful place and you in yours. We can't do anything about propriety."
"Why does propriety have to govern our lives? Why does it have a say in things?"
"It's not really propriety. It's the people. Society thinks it wrong that someone as high as you and someone as low as me should associate with each other. It's disgraceful."
"Well, I don't think so. But I guess that doesn't matter."
"No, sadly, it doesn't, Elizabeth. But while we are together, we should take advantage of it," Will suggested, smiling down at her. His arms were about to tire, but he could see the Swann mansion just ahead. Elizabeth looked deep into his eyes, and what she saw there surprised her. She no longer saw Will Turner, her childhood playmate and best friend, but Will Turner, the man that loved and cared for her no matter what. He hadn't known that she left the ball, but he had somehow managed to find her when she was helpless. She had been depressed from the outcome of her ball, but he had managed to cheer her up.
But what she was truly astonished to find, was that deep down, she loved him back.
He had told her to take advantage of the time they had now together, so she did. Bringing her damp face closer to his, she slowly gave him a delicate kiss. Will immediately pulled back.
"Elizabeth…" he breathed. His eyes were closed and he had stopped walking. Instantly, she felt ashamed for what she had done. It was foolish. After all he had told her. He opened his eyes to see Elizabeth looking dejectedly at her fingers. "No, Elizabeth. Don't be ashamed." She met his intense gaze again. He hesitated, before placing a soft kiss on her forehead. "You know we can't do this."
"I know," she said in a small voice.
"I wish we could," he said in a caring voice as he started up the driveway of the mansion. "But I told you, we can't have everything we wish for." He gazed sadly down at Elizabeth as she gazed sorrowfully back at him. "But, Elizabeth, don't ever give up hope completely. After all, when there's a will, there's a way." Elizabeth chuckled at the double meaning of his sentence, her heart a bit lighter. Reaching the front door, Will supported Elizabeth with his knee to free an arm so he could knock on the elegant front door. Immediately, the Governor opened the door.
"Elizabeth! Thank goodness you're all right! I've been so worried!" Will silently carried her to a nearby chair, placing her gently on it. His hand lingered on the small of her back for a moment longer than necessary before he straightened up again.
"I'm fine, Father," she reassured him as a servant brought a blanket to wrap her in. Seeing this as a good of a time as ever to excuse himself, Will made for the front door.
"Mr. Turner," the Governor started. Will turned around to face him. "Thank you for finding my daughter." He gave a small smile to the young man. Will glanced at Elizabeth for a moment.
"Anything for my childhood friend, Miss Swann" he replied. So propriety was back. Elizabeth would have cried out at his words had she not seen the love and comfort in his eyes. She gave him a small smile as he bowed and left the house. As her father fussed over her, Elizabeth sat in the chair and thought. She knew, somewhere deep down, that if their love was meant to be, it would find a way to happen. There was always some hope, no matter how small, and she chose to cling to that hope. Things would turn out okay.
After all, when there's a Will, there's a way.
If anything is even remotely familiar, it's probably because I got this idea from Sense and Sensibility by Jane Austen. Gotta love her.
Thanks for reading : )