A bouquet of flowers with no name. It was rather cliché, thought Elizabeth. A guessing game to figure out who was her admirer. But she knew of only one: William Turner. He was sweet and ever charming. Growing up in Port Royal, the apprentice blacksmith always managed to make time to see her, always went out of his way to do things for her. Elizabeth sighed and looked out her window with a smile. He still did.

Will was always so formal around her but that couldn't be helped. She was a governess and he was a blacksmith-to-be. He believed in such nonsense no matter how many times she told him to call her Elizabeth... Hundreds at least. Her father was very proud of William for his "sense of propriety".

Well, Elizabeth thought to herself, even through his formality and refusal to call her by her first name, Will's kindness and thoughtfulness and respectful nature towards her was something that beheld an admirer, did it not? And he was the only man she really knew in Port Royal. Norrington had not been as involved in her life as had William and other men were strangers to her, barely even acquaintances.

She smiled again before glancing at the assortment of bouquets and little trinkets strewn about her room. Yes, William Turner had taken a liking to her but what would it take, she wondered, to get him to admit it?