IV. Proclivity for Banditry
"Well, what an interesting morning thus far," exclaimed a freshly bathed Sheridan, breezing into the dining room for the morning repast. "I like your Pirate King. A most amusing lady, dear Uncle."
He collapsed down into one of the chairs, reaching for a piece of toast with one hand and pouring coffee with the other. Sheridan never seemed able to limit himself to one task at a time, a thing that annoyed James to no end. He winced as the boy splashed coffee on the white tablecloth, returning the pot to its tray with a thunk.
Had he ever been so careless in his youth? He didn't think so, but then, he had grown up on a ship, and not coddled as the first son of a Baron. By the time he'd reached Sheridan's age of twenty and two, he had been at sea for a decade, had seen battle and known what it was like to have an enemy's blood on your hands. Yet despite their differences, Sheridan was his favorite nephew, and the loveable scamp very well knew it too.
James raised an eyebrow at Sheridan's pronouncement, and sighed as the boy flung a speck of jam onto the table as he enthusiastically coated his toast. It balanced the coffee stain, he supposed.
"She is not my Pirate King," James corrected primly, even as he felt the most ridiculous spike of annoyance for the familiar way Sheridan conversed of her. He thought of the way Elizabeth had smiled down at the comely youth earlier, and his teeth clicked against the bone china of his teacup.
Sheridan smiled as though he did not quite believe his uncle, but nodded anyway. "Of course. I beg your pardon. Although…you do have a history, do you not?"
The Governor sighed, suddenly too tired for this early in the day. He might have guessed this line of inquiry would be forthcoming. "We were friends, a long time ago." A decade and then some was practically a lifetime for a youth Sheridan's age.
Sheridan's smile widened slightly. "Friends, Uncle?"
Another long suffering sigh escaped James, and this time he was not sure if it was the boy's line of questioning, or the life he'd lost in Port Royal. "It sounds as though you already know the story."
"I know Father's version, which is never the most accurate or the most kind, and I know some gossip I have picked up here and there. I would rather hear it from you, if I am not too impertinent to ask."
The corner of James' mouth quirked a little at this diplomatic tack. Perhaps the lad had a future in politics after all. James drummed long fingers on the table, finally answering, "We were engaged for a brief, very brief time, when I was stationed in Port Royal. She was quite young. Too young, perhaps, though I did not see it then."
He'd only seen her beauty, he reckoned, and her vibrant youth, so badly wanting to possess her for himself. This highly sterile version of events did nothing to account for the longing he'd felt for her, the toil he'd undergone to earn the promotion that would make him enough her peer for a marriage, or even, dare he say, the abiding love he'd felt for that girl. Perhaps he had not understood her, but he certainly had adored her. He would have cherished her as a wife, and done everything in his power to make her happy.
Somehow, running away with pirates had seemed the better option to her.
"You loved her?"
The impertinent question caused James' spine to stiffen slightly, which was an answer in of itself. "That is a bold thing to ask."
"Is it not requisite to a marriage?"
"I think you know it is not."
Sheridan smiled around the edge of his teacup. "You still love her," he dared, winning a withering look from Sir James. It was a look that had once sent buccaneers wailing for quarter, but somehow this boy was impervious. Perhaps because Sheridan knew that beyond the stony façade that Sir James kept erected for the world at large, there was a heart the size of the ocean. James was a man who held an abiding love of the people it was his duty to serve, and surely this girl Elizabeth Swann had been no different?
James set down his teacup carefully, casting his eyes down until he was sure they would not betray everything he still felt for Elizabeth Swann.
"Sheridan, I feel I must caution you in regards to our resident Pirate King. She can play quite the coquette, which a man may find pleasantly disarming, but don't be fooled by her comely façade. She is dangerous."
He remembered the way she'd teased him earlier: You could just close your eyes, and his entire body warmed with the memory of her honeyed tone. Suddenly his neck cloth seemed a stifling article of clothing, but he feared adjusting it would win yet another knowing look from the all-too-perceptive imp seated before him.
The boy raised an eyebrow, and James could see that the boy could not even fathom that there was some risk or threat to housing such a woman beneath their roof, Pirate King or no. It was a trap many men had fallen into, including James himself, once upon a time.
James continued, "She is here for several reasons. One, as a courtesy to an old friend. I do not like it that our Captain Fitzwilliam took justice into his own hands. It is an embarrassing breach of discipline, and should not have happened on our watch. Such a thing makes me reluctant to leave her at the Fort, for there is always a risk that a woman may endure some insult, and she has already had her share from us. Then, there is the fact that it would be a hazard to house her near her former subjects. She is clever as a fox, and there is no reason to make it easy for her to stage an uprising.
"We walk a thin line here. England is an ocean away, and the former pirates need no sentimental remembrance of the loyalties they have left behind. Thus, we shall house her here, where we can keep an eye on her. Though of course she is no true monarch, a little respect can go a long way in loosening a tongue. Perhaps we shall learn something of use, or better yet, perhaps she will take the pardon and convince the others to follow suit. It would be a great triumph for us. You saw how she responded to a whipping: with bared teeth and laughter and do your worst. She would rather die than respond to a threat. No, this fly must be caught with honey, dear boy. It shall be a good lesson for you."
"It sounds as though you harbor a great deal of admiration for her, Uncle."
James opened his mouth, knowing he should protest the notion of having any sort of esteem for a pirate, and yet coming up blank. Despite her proclivity for banditry upon the high seas, he could not bring himself to speak ill of her, and despite the way she had destroyed his hopes for the future, he could not bring himself to stop loving her. Finally he settled for, "She is a singular lady. I shall grant her that."
That twinkle of mischief returned to the boy's grey eyes, much like the glint of light off a bared dagger. Perhaps Sheridan was a young man, but he was not entirely a fool. "Well, she shan't be a difficult guest to look upon at supper, by my word!"
James narrowed his eyes at the boy, but narrowly resisted an outburst, realizing that the lad meant to bait him. Instead he sighed heavily, his usual response when Sheridan said something outlandish.
Oh, how youth is wasted on the young.