Elizabeth Swann was, at one time, what one would politely call a wilful, spirited, or lively child. Those who did not feel compelled to be polite would call her spoiled, wild, and on occasion mad. Her father, Governor Weatherby Swann, knew this. He had accepted the position of Governor of Jamaica partly because of it.
He had been advised by various well-intentioned women of his acquaintance that sometimes a change of scene, even just the change from town to country, could be positive for a child like Elizabeth. They had hundreds of success stories to tell, as well as many veiled warnings about motherless children. Generally when they reached this point in their advice, the Governor would suddenly remember a very important meeting with a very important person and have the butler escort them to the door.
The Governor knew that the women were right about some things, and assumed they were right about others because they were women and mothers themselves. However, the one thing he was sure they were wrong about was that his Elizabeth would like, or even need, a new mother. The late Mrs. Swann could never be replaced. He would just have to find another way of calming Elizabeth's wildness.
When they arrived in Port Royal months later, with the unexpected addition of the silent, serious boy whom their ship had rescued, Elizabeth had indeed seemed to settle down. She had been the one to spot the boy, Will Turner, floating along the starboard side of the ship and had called the alarm. She seemed to feel responsible for him.
While the boy stayed in their new mansion with them, Elizabeth had been bright and energetic, but in a very directed way. Her goal appeared to be to break through Will's unhappiness and make him smile. She did everything she could to make it happen but, thanks to the boy's shyness, she limited herself to a quieter kind of liveliness.
At first, Governor Swann had thought that the boy might be the key to calming Elizabeth's spirit. Unfortunately, it was brought to his attention by several of the more prominent members of Port Royal society that adopting an unknown orphan boy, who, for all he knew, could have grown up in the slums of London, was quite unacceptable. He had proposed giving the boy work in the mansion somewhere, as a gardener, perhaps, or a kitchen boy, but had been told that his daughter was already far too familiar with the boy as it was. If the friendship should continue… The dire threats and predictions were never spoken aloud; it was clearly too horrible an idea to mention.
So the boy had been apprenticed to a blacksmith. Even this had been considered to be too generous, but the Governor would hear nothing of it. He could not imagine throwing a child, especially one so close to his Elizabeth, onto the streets.
Once the boy had gone, life returned to its regular schedule: meeting with important people, dragging an adventurous, sulking, or furious Elizabeth from tea party to tea party, and subtly thanking the servants for their patience with the little mistress.
This was how Elizabeth and her father came to be in the parlour of one of Port Royal's more respectable families on the day Elizabeth's freedom came to an end. During this visit with Colonel and Mrs. Hughes, Governor Swann learned of the perfect solution to the problem of his wayward daughter. A governess.
The first was Miss Samson. She was a plain-faced, chubby young-woman with a mother and two siblings to support in town. She was also highly recommended by the Hughes family. After hiring her, it occurred to the Governor that if Miss Samson was really the wonderful governess Mrs. Hughes said she was, the Hughes should not have been getting rid o her. Once he had thought of that, he had written to Mrs. Hughes at once.
It turned out to be a matter of what Mrs. Hughes called "inappropriate relations" with one of the menservants. Mrs. Hughes assured Governor Swann that all of that was done with, but that she wanted to avoid contaminating the mind of her frail and delicate daughter Alice. Such a lively girl as Elizabeth, she was sure, would suffer no ill effects.
For a few weeks, this seemed to be the case. The Governor's mansion no longer echoed with the shrieks and scoldings of housemaids or the ominous silence of plots being laid. These were now confined to Elizabeth's schoolroom, one of the smaller studies. In the corridor outside this room, one could frequently hear whining, shouting, and arguing.
The Governor was told in his weekly interviews with Miss Samson that Elizabeth was stubborn in math lessons, hopeless with a needle and thread, and positively infuriating during her etiquette instruction.
The daily outings Elizabeth was supposed to take, according to Miss Samson's schedule, rarely ended where they were supposed to. Elizabeth simply could not ignore the call of the beaches, the trees, and most of all, Will. She developed a frighteningly convincing talent for lying. Miss Samson, however, was quick to catch on, and in the first two months, Elizabeth never truly managed to escape.
On the whole, Governor Swann was rather pleased.
However, the day before what would have marked the beginning of Miss Samson's third month as Elizabeth's governess, Miss Samson burst into the Governor's study. Her clothes were rumpled and her face was screwed up in an expression of mixed fury and hysteria.
"Governor, I resign!" she shrieked. "I have had it with that creature! She is like no child I have ever known! I refuse to stay a moment longer!" Then she burst into tears, for what might have been a second or third time that day.
The Governor jumped to his feet, stunned and frightened. "Miss Samson! Calm yourself, please. What has happened? Where is Elizabeth?"
Miss Samson collapsed into a straight-backed chair, panting. "I took her out for her outing," said the governess.
This was not the reassuring answer Governor Swann was hoping for. He could not hear any of the commotion that usually followed his daughter wherever she went. "Where is she, Miss Samson?"
The governess gasped, "Locked in her room sir, and I suggest that she stay there. The trouble she has caused me! The danger she put us both in! Governor, I am not certain she should be allowed outside the grounds."
On hearing that Elizabeth was, in fact, safely in her room, the Governor had a little more pity for the dishevelled Miss Samson. He rung the bell for his manservant. "Thomas," he said, once the man appeared, "please fetch a glass of water for Miss Samson, and send one of the maids to Miss Elizabeth's room with the same."
Once Thomas had gone, the Governor resumed his seat behind his desk. "Now, Miss Samson," he began, "you have given me quite a start. Suppose you tell me what happened."
And so she began. "Well, we were just setting out for our afternoon outing. That was more than an hour ago now, sir. The little beast just suddenly pulled out of my hand! She has tried to escape before, but never so balantly, nor in so public a place. She just ran off, weaving in between all the carriages, to the other side of the street."
"I followed her, of course. I'd be failing in my duties if I hadn't. She scampered down all sorts of filthy lanes. She lead me straight to the docks, sir. She could have been crushed or kidnapped! And as for me, I have never been so manhandled in my life! It was an outrage! There is no baser form of life than a sailor, sir. Your daughter put both of us in grave danger."
She paused here. When she next spoke, her tone was acidic. "I don't suppose she had any trouble, sir. She seemed quite familiar with some of them. No, the little minx left me to their mercy." Miss Samson's face was flushing as she spoke.
Thomas arrived with her glass of water, which she gulped down, all thoughts of demonstrating lady-like qualities gone. Once she was finished, she continued.
"I assure you, sir, I will never follow your daughter again. When I finally escaped from those scoundrels, I had lost sight of her. I was near frantic with worry, but I was reminded of a story the housemaids told me, about a blacksmith's apprentice with whom your daughter has some sort of connection. I went by the smith's, and sure enough, what do I find but the governor's daughter, Miss Elizabeth Swann, kneeling on the dirt floor examining a fine array of swords and daggers! I won't stand for it, Governor Swann. I am giving you my notice, I leave in the morning."
The Governor nodded distractedly. He sent Miss Samson back to her room to pack and went to see his daughter. When he knocked on the door of her room, he was met with a snarl of "Go away, Nellie! I don't want your stupid water, I want to see Will!" He was also shocked to hear a stiffled sob. He had thought Elizabeth had gotten over her saddness at Will's leaving.
"Elizabeth," he called through the door. "I just want to know what happened today. Miss Samson seemed to think you could have hurt yourself." He opened the door and found Elizabeth with her head pressed into the quilt of her bed. He sat down beside her and said, "Lizzy, please tell me what happened."
Though he said it like a request, Elizabeth knew it was an order. She sat up and wiped her eyes. "I just missed Will so much! I kept asking Miss Samson if we could go see him just once on one of those stupid outings, but she said no! She said smiths weren't acceptable company for a young lady.
"We got so close to the smith's today," she said, casting her eyes down. "I couldn't just walk by. I had to see him. So I asked again, but she still said no. So I ran. I wouldn't have run if she'd just let me go and say hello!"
The Governor sighed and put his arm around her shoulders. "That's not a good enough reason Lizzy. If you had come and asked me, I might have arranged for Will to come and see us here, maybe as a Sunday treat. But you can't go galavanting off through the docks. Do you have any idea what happened to Miss Samson there?"
Elizabeth stared at him, looking very annoyed. "Yes. One of the sailors warned her to stay out of the way of the others while they were rolling barrels onto the ship. She didn't listen, so he grabbed her hand. It's too bad he did, because she might've been run over by one of the barrels if he hadn't."
Governor Swann glared down at her. "Lizzy, you mustn't say things like that."
Elizabeth rolled her eyes. "Alright. Luckily, the sailor saved her from a conveniently timed death. She thought he was attacking her though. She started stuggling and squawking and some of the other sailors were laughing and making strange jokes about Miss Samson and the sailor, but she pulled away from him just then." Elizabeth shrugged. "I kept running."
Miss Samson left the house the next day with her wages and a letter of glowing recommendation from Governor Swann himself. The letter explained the wayward nature of her (unnamed) charge and exulted her patience and capability.
However, Miss Samson's unfortunate adventure preyed on the Governor's mind. He confined his daughter to the house, resigned to the tantrums to come, and set about looking for another more capable governess.
Within a fortnight, one Miss Roach was comfortably installed in the Governor's mansion.
A/N Yay! My first chaptered fic has begun! Thank you to the wonderful Nytd, who beta-ed this for me. I'm wokring on the second chapter now, and I will hopefully have that up in a week or two. Thanks for reading!
P.S. Creative criticism is HUGELY appreciated.