171 Days Before
Elizabeth spat out a soaked hair, tossing her head to fling away the loose strands sticking to her. Glazed in sweat, it stung her eyes when she tried the maneuver again. With a cry, she turned and planted her feet, shoulder-width apart, and drove both the swords behind her into the straw-filled dummies.
"Hold them a bit closer to you. They won't touch you," Will said, stepping back to nudge one of the dummies. She had nicked the far side of one. "If you hold them closer, you'll get both of them right here." His hand circled the dummy's middle. "Try again."
Panting, she turned her back on the dummies again, feeling the grip and pommel of the swords grind against newly-formed calluses on her palms. Right under the pits of your arms, she instructed herself, narrowing her eyes at the haggard wall in front of her. Grunting, she flipped the swords in her hands and rammed them into her stationary opponents.
"Better!"
Unable to pull her sword out of the stuffed burlap, she left the swords stuck in them to flex her arms.
"Elizabeth…"
"I know, I know. 'Build up my strength.'" She puckered her lips at the growing soreness in her shoulders. Spitting out another hair, she shivered at Will nearing her and gathering up her ponytail. Wordlessly, he undid the string and collected the damp waves.
"Like a bushel of wheat," he whispered, the masculine gentility in his voice breathing on her neck while he redid her tail. Feeling a drop of sweat course down her temple and dribble off her chin, she turned towards him, heart still crossing oceans a second, face to face with him. Her fiancé. It still didn't feel real, she thought, knowing it was only a few more months before this face would be the last thing she would see before she went to sleep, the first thing she would see in the morning… Cocking her head, she pursed her lips.
"Later I can show you how to decapitate them," Will sputtered out, mouth dropped open in awe. Seducing Will, more fun than it should have been, she thought, pouting out her lips more to reel him closer. Her hands slid up his back, clammy from exertion, their fronts leaning against each other. He kissed her with salty, slippery lips, his arms tense. Breaking away from him, she shot him a flirtatious smile, blushing suddenly at her forwardness. Ladies do not entice, she scolded herself, standing near the entrance waiting for Estrella to come with her dress and escort her upstairs to the living quarters to clean up.
"Maybe one day she'll forget to come," Will said, pulling one of the swords out of the dummy.
"Will, let me do that."
"No, I have it."
"Miss?" they heard from the door. Estrella came through with a bright indigo dress folded over her arm, a full bag in her other. "I'm here with your things."
"Thank you. I'll just be upstairs." Elizabeth waited for Estrella to catch up to her.
"I'll chaperone from down here, miss, if that's all right. Bit fatigued."
Nodding, Elizabeth opened the back door and placed her foot up the first step when she heard a sob.
"Estrella?" she heard Will's nervous voice, stunned, judging by the tone. "Are you all right?"
"Oh, I'm fine, Mr. Turner," she sniffled.
"I have a handkerchief somewhere…" Adorable, Elizabeth thought, listening to Will's shuffles, probably combing the place for a handkerchief. But whatever could be wrong? None of your business, that's what. Go upstairs. But her feet stayed planted where they were.
"Here we are." She could hear Will cross the floor, his voice diminishing. "What happened?"
"Oh, oh, nothing." Elizabeth scrunched her face at the distinctive sound of a nose being blown. "Well, Mr. Turner, you consider yourself a rational man?"
"Er, I suppose."
"You promise you won't make the situation worse?"
"What situation?"
What situation indeed. Elizabeth pressed her face into the wall, trying to make out any shapes through a narrow hole.
"Coming down here, I was overhearing some people talking about the Swanns, sir." Her voice wobbled, followed by another sniffle. Hearing the broken voice of someone usually so cheerful tore at Elizabeth's heart, ready to barge into the shop, take her swords, and demonstrate her skill to whatever roughnecks made her cry.
"It's to be expected, Estrella," Will said. "They're fighting so hard to keep their reputation…and Governor Swann's position. The best we can do is keep a stiff upper lip and hold our heads high."
"It's not that." Elizabeth caught a glimpse of Estrella quaking through the hole before the image blurred. "After all Miss Elizabeth's been through, dragging her name through the mud like that. She's a great lady, Mr. Turner, and an honorable one too."
"They insulted Elizabeth?" She didn't need to see the change that had come over Will, his tone deepening, switching from polite consolation to straight business. She could almost see his fists clench. "What did they say?"
"It wouldn't be fitting to go into details." Squinting, she could make out Estrella hugging herself.
"Who said it?"
"Mr. Turner, you dragged it out of me! You can't go in the street and cause a scene. It'll only make matters worse. Anyone who knows Miss Elizabeth knows it isn't true, that she'd never lower herself to that, and to use you that way! It's one thing to abet a pirate, and I'll be the first to admit Captain Sparrow takes my breath away, but…"
"What did they say?" Will asked again, more than a growl accompanying his voice. "Tell me."
"It's them sailors, sir, the ones who shot their mouths off when Commodore Norrington and all of you returned, finding her on that island, ye see…that's how it's got around. They was speculating why she wasn't showing."
"Showing?"
"Sir, don't make me…you know. Showing…with child?"
Elizabeth paled. Her head fell onto the wall, too weak to support itself. In itself, it wasn't news. Cornelia had pretty much assumed the same thing when she'd been at the house before, but…with child? Somehow it had escalated to where she was not only a pirate's whore but the soon-to-be mother of his child? She took a shaky seat on the step.
"Mr. Turner! Mr. Turner, don't go."
Springing up, Elizabeth ran around the side of the smithy shop until she spotted Will, sword in hand, approaching a group of sailors resting on the rock railing on the bridge leading down to the harbor, smoking and laughing and brushing dust off their red coats.
"Will!" Dashing over to him, even at a time like this feeling the freedom trousers and boots allowed her stride, she pummeled into him, bracing his arm to stop herself.
"You heard everything."
"Estrella's right, Will. Don't go over there. If we act like it's true…" She tightened her grip on his arm. "They'll learn it's not true anyway," she whispered, blushing at the subject and at Will's face. "Don't look so beside yourself. They'll see." Winding her hand through his hair, she leaned her head back and smiled at him. "If they're already wondering why I'm not showing, imagine their disappointment when I stay the same size I always have been."
"Don't smile in such a motherly way." But he said it with the corners of his mouth turning up, rendering Elizabeth no choice but to do it again.
"You're very sweet to defend my honor. I'm sure the Navy would have had three casualties today."
Elizabeth waited in the carriage for her father, fanning herself in time with Perkins' impatient tapping just outside.
"Benjamin Perkins, you will drive me mad if you keep that up," she warned.
"Sorry, miss."
"Elizabeth! You brought the carriage." Sticking her head out the window, she waved at her father, taking in the cool evening breeze.
"You've been staying so late I figured you would like a short ride instead of a long walk." Governor Swann climbed into the carriage, waving away Perkins' arm and plopped into the cushion across from her.
"This is much more agreeable," he said, adjusting. "Thank you, my dear."
"Dinner is being prepared…"
"…without you?"
"Once a week in the kitchen is about all Rhoda can stand of me. The decorations for the party have been ordered, the extra parchment from the wedding invitations can be used…today was the day the floors were polished, so be sure to mention something to the maids when you walk in. I daresay you'll be able to see your reflection in them, especially there in the foyer." She gazed out the window. "I've received some roundabout inquiries as to why the wedding isn't for so long."
"Elizabeth, we've been through this. The last thing we need right now is a hasty wedding."
"Yes, I know, but why is that the last thing we need?" She could feel her eyes burning, her neck straightening, an eyebrow raised.
"As I've said, to allow things to calm down," Governor Swann said. "It would have appeared nothing less than rude to have married Will so shortly after breaking off your engagement to Commodore Norrington."
"We had not even formally announced it," she countered, his reticence fueling her anger. "Did you think there was a specific length of time we needed to wait?"
They stared at each other, facing off with no chess board between them, each one desperate to calculate the other's next series of moves. Say it, Father, she dared. We're in the carriage, no one to overhear. Say what it was you feared.
"Yes, I think given the circumstances a year was an appropriate length of time. What's brought all this on?"
"You thought I was with child, didn't you?"
"What?" She took satisfaction in his discomfort, noting the shift in his weight and his aghast expression, making sure she herself remained motionless. "Elizabeth, this is not…"
"You thought on that island that Jack…" She clamped her mouth shut, the first mentioning of his name since all this suddenly making it more real, easier to imagine.
"I thought nothing of the sort," he snapped. "I raised you better than that."
"Admit it. You thought that if I married Will right away everyone would suspect we were covering something up."
"You don't think they would have? You put it past them?"
"You might have told me the truth as to why you insisted Will and I be in this limbo."
"I did tell you the truth," Governor Swann said, for once letting Elizabeth see where she had gotten the fire in her eyes. "A year is enough time for everything to calm down. You see how five months have gone by and still people are talking about it, still salvaging what Barbossa and his horde wrecked. You had just ended an engagement as suddenly as you had accepted the proposal, helped the pirate whom you'd been found on an island with escape, and made your feelings about a lower-class blacksmith public all in less than a fortnight! Imagine tacking on a wedding to all of that. We'd have this place running amok, to be sure. There was no need to tell you on top of all that, that there were a few who thought you would also be in a predicament."
She considered arguing that secrets weren't an asset to their relationship, but then counted how many she herself had already amassed, most of them revolving around the events he had already listed. Her head down, she closed her eyes, willing herself to accept that her father could be allowed a secret or two of his own.
"Will nearly killed some people who were talking about it," she whispered to the floor of the carriage.
"At least he didn't believe it," Governor Swann said to himself before turning back to face her. "I fancy you could have as well. Your lessons have been going well?"
"Very well, thank you," she said, her mind far away.
Pushing her hair back so her neck could feel the cool softness of her pillow, Elizabeth stared up at the canopy of her bed, twirling a lock to busy her hands.
"Finally done sulking, are we?" she asked, still sitting in the surf with her knees up, repressing a giggle at Jack stomping back to her, the flames and smoke still stretching up to the sky. He didn't answer; instead he played with one of the sashes looped through his trousers as a belt. "It's only rum."
"Never say that to a pirate, darling," was all he said, sash now in hand, bustling over to one of the trees. Somehow she knew he knew he held her attention, but she twisted her torso anyway, watching him loop it around the tree trunk and contort it around his wrist.
"What are you doing?"
"Assuring I'm not shot on sight."
Not knowing why, Elizabeth let a small laugh escape.
"It may be funny to you, love, but I am deathly serious," he said with such a deadpan tone it compelled her to stand. Bending down and using his teeth to wind it around his wrists, he breathed a curse and sighed. "If you'd be so kind?"
Approaching him, her fingers grazed the silky blood-colored sash spread so tightly around the tree trunk it looked ready to snap.
"What is it I'm supposed to be doing?"
"Tie me to it." His face perked up. "While I'm constrained I can busy myself with why you're so amused by this." She bit her lip. "Go on. Ye can't hurt me."
She looped the sash around his wrist before bringing it to the tree, prying his hand open to cup the trunk. Sidestepping to the other side, she did the same with his other hand. At last she had two ends to bring around and tie into a knot. He jostled a little.
"Tighter."
"Doesn't the fact you're not able to go anywhere suffice?" she asked extra dryly, compensating for not understanding.
"Has to look like Barbossa's men did it as soon as we arrived. No redcoat is going to think I had me way with ye and decide to teach me a lesson in manners."
Oh.
Pulling the sash, it tightened.
"It won't go much more than that."
"That'll have to do then. At least there's no slack." He pulled again, testing it. "Not bad. See? No way to lay a hand on ye." He wiggled his bound fingers.
"They'll still probably put you in the brig," she said, deciding to try a different knot. She undid the first one and played with the ends.
"Better than dead and in fact, better than what your predicament will be." He grinned at her.
"Which is?"
"Having to endure the company of the Commodore on deck."
She shouldn't have laughed, but she did, and then undid the knot and tried another.
"Miss Swann, are…"
They both turned, Gillette making his way to them, the longboat lodged in the firm wet sand behind him. About to ask for James, she paused and mimicked his shocked expression. His mouth seemed to stumble over mute words, trying to make sense of his view. Elizabeth inspected herself, wondering if she should have hidden, professing being in only her shift made her indecent. Three more sailors, officers, caught up to Gillette, but instead of matching his bewildered face, emitted amused ones, ones that looked full of pleasant surprise.
"Instead of gawking at the lady you might want to inquire if she's hurt," Jack said. That seemed to wake them up, Elizabeth thought, although their knowing expressions remained.
"Er, yes, glad to see you're all right, miss," Gillette stuttered, turning his attention to the men. "Step to."
"You'd think it would take more than a shift to point out how uncivilized they are," she mumbled to herself.
"It's nothing to do with that," Jack whispered to her, going quiet while they untied him and gestured with their muskets to march to the longboat. He paused and held out his hand, waiting for the return of his sash. One of the men rolled his eyes before dropping it into his hands. "It does, however, have everything to do with this."
"What do you mean?" She ran up next to him, ignoring the muskets. He met her eyes with uncharacteristic reluctance, as if he were examining her to determine if she ought to hear just what it was he meant.
"Think about it," he prompted.
"I am, and I fail to see…" He leaned closer to her.
"They think you and I were playing a little game, love, one that often leads to another kind of game." He waited for her understanding. "Come, come, Lizzie, surely one as gifted in the art of seduction as yourself at least ought to know the ins and outs of it."
The blazing sun couldn't redden her cheeks any more than that statement. Folding her arms, she kept silent in the longboat, head erect, hands in a ladylike position of one over the other in her lap, dismissing every leer and snort with refined ignorance, shoving them out completely once she saw her father and James on the deck of the ship. Before either of them could even address her, she domineered them into focusing on the business of tracking Will…and Barbossa.
Seduction. She snorted in bed. If anything were to take the credit, it would be the rum. Anyone could have done the same thing and garner in the same outcome. Besides, of the two, she was not the seducer. She was the one who knew limits, who set them without needing to be told, a far cry from the countless whores he must have been with who could only hope he paid them just so they could put bread on the table. Yet she couldn't help but feel jealous. Letting go of her hair, she wrung her hands together. Jealous of whores, what next, she shook her head at herself. While imagining…it…was far from disdainful, she knew what would await her—forgotten, discarded like a dish towel. What woman in her right mind would be the seductress when that was the aftermath? Still, her hands flew back to her hair, twining it around her fingers…was it strange people believed they had been together? Was it strange some didn't believe it? No, you're the strange one for giving it so much thought. She rolled onto her side to blow out the candle, but instead opened her drawer and lifted the board to uncover her treasures, her most secret keepsakes, Jack's ring the newest addition. Putting it on, she blew out the candle and closed her eyes.
A/N: Don't own! For once a chapter with nothing to cite, but don't own. Never own.