"Miss Elizabeth!" The sunlight infiltrated the room as the curtains were drawn open. "Miss, you'd best wake up 'fore the morning turns to noon!" The smell of eggs and juicy bacon crept into the room under the closed bedroom door. "Miss, you mustn't sleep late on your sixteenth birthday! The festivities can not start without you!" The young colored maid received no response. "Miss, are you even listenin' to me?" This provoked Elizabeth to shift positions enough to silently announce that she was – partially – awake. "Miss, if you don't get outta that bed –"
Elizabeth threw back the covers in mock defiance. Her eyes flew open and she was on her feet within moments. For a moment, she appeared angry and frustrated with her maid and friend, but she could not hold a straight face for very long. At the shock and confusion on Annie's face, Elizabeth broke into a joyful and appreciative smile. "How could I be upset with you when the day is so young; and on my birthday?" she asked her humble servant. "You should know me better than that, Anne! I shall not think less of you for it though!" She could not stifle a chuckle at the image of such a perplexed expression blazoned upon an innocent face.
Anne smiled at her own folly and shook her head as she fetched Elizabeth's new dress. "Mah 'pologies, Miss Elizabeth," she offered, admiring the detail of the nonobjective design on the light blue piece of clothing.
With Annie's help, Elizabeth donned the dress that her mother had worn on her sixteenth birthday. The sleeves, loose and comfortable, poured such lace out their ends that the white material hung several inches below her arm. The skirt was pulled back in such a way that the petticoat could not be seen from the back, but was flaunted and framed by the skirt in the front. To Elizabeth, the torso section was a bit revealing for her morals, but she would sacrifice a few morals to carry on her mother's memory and tradition. Ruffles followed the seam over her shoulders and across her back and bosom. Her waist and slender form was accentuated and complimented by the way the dress fit. The entirety of the outfit, completed with a fashionable pair of shoes, was perfect for the late August occasion.
"Thank you, Anne," Elizabeth dismissed her companion from further duties.
"Mah pleasure, Miss 'Lizabeth," came a joyful reply. "You lookin' mighty fine, miss! No doubt in mah mind tha' you're celebration will be better than mine was. Don' worry yourself anymore about the lack of a party on my part; I got more o' one than most folks like me. I'll be surprised, though, if you retire tonight having not received a single invitation to court a fine young man – or at least something of the like!" The excitement in Annie's voice was sincere and bubbling.
Blushing a bit, Elizabeth sighed as she brushed her hair back and gathered it atop her head. She twisted her hair about itself and fastened it into a bun with long, curly locks of dark blonde hair dangling below. "I wish Father would have granted you more of a party than he did. It was but nigh a year ago; you should celebrate with me today! 'Twould be by far the best party I could acquire for you, if you'll consent," she grinned, turning excitedly toward Annie.
Annie's face lit up, but she declined the suggestion. "It would be nice, yes, but I don't think I could enjoy such a party for my own sake. It just wouldn't be right to me."
The girl with the curls let go of her grin. "I could get you excused from your work and arrange for you to be honored alongside me."
"No thanks miss," the maid was no less excited from throwing an interesting opportunity out the window. "It's all how I want it to be: I'll serve you best I can, however I can, an' you go socialize an' enjoy yourself, an' it'll be to the pleasure of everyone. I need nothing more than that an' time with you here an' now to make me happy as I've ever been!" With those heartfelt words, Annie helped her superior finish preparing herself for a brilliant and thrilling day.
Elizabeth hopped up as soon as she was ready and grabbed Annie's hand ardently. Together, they bolted down the stairs and into the kitchen. Elizabeth threw her arms around the Governor clamoring, "Thank you, father! I love eggs and bacon! I just know you have a splendid day planned!"
"That I do, Elizabeth," the man in the wig beamed. He seated her and, upon her request, Annie as well.
Sara had cooked breakfast that morning, as usual. She had been a maiden in the Swann household ever since the Swanns arrived in Port Royal. In Elizabeth's opinion, Sara was the best cook out of all the girls of the house. No bacon in the world could ever surpass that which she made. Furthermore, the Swanns only had bacon cooked on special occasions due to the greasiness and fat content of the food; so Elizabeth delighted in the surplus of bacon on this particular morning.
While she dined, Elizabeth's mind drifted to her friend the blacksmith – William Turner. She knew he had received his invitation, but she had not received a definite reply from him yet. Likely, he had worked through breakfast today. Even if not, he would appreciate a tasty snack to give him a little more energy. As she ate, Elizabeth slyly slipped a few slices of bacon into the napkin on her lap.
No sooner was she finished with her breakfast than she excused herself from the table. Concealing the napkin in her hands, she wrapped the bacon tightly and deposited the package into her small handbag. Elizabeth pulled on her gloves and headed for the door with but one destination in mind: the blacksmith shop.
"Elizabeth!" The Governor's voice reached reluctant ears. "Wait; the carriage is not ready yet!" he warned. "It won't be too long, though."
"It's alright! I'd rather walk – please! Just send the carriage to the park. Samuel can pick me up there at eleven. I'll be ready for the picnic by then!" Elizabeth was losing her patience.
Governor Swann hesitantly gave in to his daughter's request. "All right," he sighed, "It's your birthday; you'll have your wish." As his daughter reached for the door handle, he felt it necessary to remind her, "Be careful!"
"I will!" the girl called, halfway out the door by then. She fought her urge to run down the streets of dirt, and barely won the battle. The spring in her step caught several eyes, as did her clothing and title. In effect, heads were turning left and right as she made her way towards the dock. It seemed to take forever to reach the old wooden doors leading into the place where swords were crafted.
William Turner sat in Mr. Brown's blacksmith shop, polishing a sword for his master. Mr. Brown sat sleeping in the back corner, in a heavily drunk sleep. When a knock came on the door, Will answered it. To his surprise, there stood Elizabeth Swann. "Good day, Miss Swann," he greeted her. "May I be of service to you?"
Elizabeth was slightly insulted. "Please, Will, call me Elizabeth!"
"With all due respect, we are both sixteen now and of different class at that. Besides, it just really isn't socially acceptable for a man and a lady to call each other by first name unless they are courting. I hope you can understand," Will frowned. He wanted to submit to her request, but he could not allow himself to transgress the boundaries of manner and propriety.
"All right, Will," she sighed.
Will was relieved that she took no offense at his decision; and he silently rejoiced that she refused to follow his example. His smile returned and he invited Elizabeth in.
Elizabeth dug down into her handbag as she entered and brought out the bacon-filled napkin. She handed it to the boy before her saying, "I brought this for you. I thought you might have worked through breakfast. Sara cooked today!"
Will eagerly accepted her gift. "I did, as usual, but you didn't have to bring me anything!"
"Annie and I couldn't eat it all!"
"Thank you," he chuckled. "I was going to go out for brunch pretty soon; I'd invite you to join me, but I imagine you have plans."
"Yes, I do. Aren't you going to join us this afternoon for the party?"
"I – I – don't know," Will stuttered. He had never been to a party for one from another class. "I'm not sure I would make a good impression…"
Elizabeth's face fell. "Will, you simply must!" she cried as he devoured the bacon. "Please, come join us at three. Do it for my birthday! I may not see you much from this point forward, being 16 and of higher social class."
Unfortunately, Will could not diverge. Reluctantly, he tendered her request. "All right," he nodded. "I'll be there." He had been planning to secretly drop by during the party that afternoon to drop off the gift he had made for her, anyway. Will had been working on it for weeks, in his free time. Now, the problem was not sneaking in, but a matter of what to wear and how to act. He decided to put on his best clothes and hope for the best.
Elizabeth never got much of a chance to socialize with the aspiring metalworker before he left that afternoon, but she did find his gift after all the guests had departed. As she entered her room to go to bed that night, she spotted a neatly wrapped box sitting on her dresser. "Miss Elizabeth Swann," the note read, "please accept this gift as a token of my friendship. Happy Sixteenth Birthday. Sincerely, Will Turner." Slowly and carefully, she removed the decorative paper from the present to reveal a gift she would never forget. It was practically haphazard from lack of experience, but it was the most beautiful glove box Elizabeth would ever see in her life.