Elizabeth tucked in a stray wisp of hair as she checked her appearance in the mirror once more. She was acutely aware that her sudden concern with how she looked was born entirely out of her nervousness about the plans for the day, but at least it had temporarily distracted her from the other things currently weighing on her mind – or at least from most of them. Today, she and Will were going down to the shipyard to check on the newest addition to their fleet. The ship, as yet unnamed, was nearing completion, and it was time to start making decisions about certain accoutrements - mainly weaponry. The furnishings were minor in comparison. It wasn't like there was much room for variation.
All of other vessels in the Turner-Castillo line had been acquired elsewhere, and had long since been fitted out as appropriate, so today's task would be a first for her, as well as Will. No one would dare question Elizabeth Turner's knowledge of ships and sailing, but she was grateful that she had Will's expertise to rely on, too. How much more of a reliable opinion could she ask for, considering that he had spent the past ten years confined to a ship?
She crossed the bedroom to the French doors leading out to the small balcony and looked outside. She stood with her arms wrapped across her midsection as she watched the shimmering heat envelop the street below. It was abnormally hot, even for mid July. Not the ideal weather to be out and about in your Sunday best, but Will had finally decided he was comfortable enough to start venturing out into society. It had taken him six weeks to get to that point and as such Elizabeth was reluctant to avoid the inevitable any longer. At some point they would have to face the whispering voices and prying eyes of Port Royal's residents. It wasn't like they hadn't dealt with much the same before, and if Will was ready to face it then she couldn't exactly argue, could she?
While Will hadn't been out much, he hadn't exactly been completely house bound either. When the request came from Nathaniel Cavanaugh to remodel the old barracks to something more suitable for its new occupants, Will had immediately volunteered. So for the past month, Will, Evan, and occasionally, William too, had left the house at daybreak to spend the morning working at the tavern. They were nearly always home before lunch; Evan to take care of his normal duties for the household, and Will to spend the afternoons getting to know his son. On the increasingly frequent occasions that William opted to stay at the tavern to play with his friends, Will instead spent countless hours learning about the business end of the shipping company from his wife.
While he enjoyed any endeavor that allowed him to spend time with her, the work at the tavern had proven to be a godsend. Will was not the kind of man who was content to do nothing and the manual labor associated with the reconstruction provided that outlet for him. As of yet he was still unsure of what he wanted to do with himself, but he was sure of two things; that he did not want to return to sea and that life behind a desk was not for him.
The modifications to the rooms that Estrella's family now occupied had provided the perfect distraction for him – even more so, in that every other adult at the tavern had responsibilities elsewhere during the mornings—responsibilities that allowed Will and Evan to work in comparative peace. There were no prying questions to be answered simply because there was no one there to ask them. Although, according to Will, Estrella had spent a significant amount of time watching them work. At first, he had attributed her observation to curiosity about her new home, but he had gradually come to believe that there was something she wanted to tell him. Something that made her seem afraid.
The family, Evan, Mercedes and Mrs. Lansford included, had agreed on what they believed to be a plausible, but simple explanation for Will's return. Too much detail could lead to discrepancies that they could not explain; too little detail would lead to more questions, and quite possibly incite gossip beyond what was already inevitable. The entire Turner family had at some point been the subject of an inordinate amount of speculation, but there was no sense in adding fuel to the fire.
Because of the family's need to present a united front, and their intense desire to spend time together as just the three of them, Elizabeth had neglected many of her social obligations, not to mention her friends, for the past month and a half. She was fairly confident that once word got out that her long missing husband had returned home, she would be forgiven. After all, who would blame her for wanting to spend time with him? For all anyone knew he could leave again any day and not return for who knew how long. It wasn't as if there hadn't been a precedent set for that scenario. Port Royal's livelihood was the sea. When its men went to sea no one knew for sure when they would return or for that matter, if they would return.
The one person Elizabeth did feel guilty about avoiding was Estrella. It wasn't that she hadn't wanted to see her former maid, but she knew there would be more questions than she had answers for –yet. Elizabeth had sensed the night she and Will had met her in the street that there was something more to her story. Even as disinterested as Will was with what Estrella's tale might be, he too had commented that something did not ring true about her plight. Estrella's behavior the few times they had been to the tavern, along with Will's other observations, only added to the mystery.
Elizabeth shuddered involuntarily at the memory of Estrella telling her that she had lost her husband to the sea – to Davy Jones to be exact. Obviously that could not possibly be true, at least not in the strictest sense, but it was entirely possible that she had been widowed – it happened with alarming frequency, particularly among the wives of sailors. She had also claimed to be staying with her older sister. That also was not true. Elizabeth had known that from the moment the words came out of Estrella's mouth, for in fact, Elizabeth had made a point of searching for members of Estrella's family when she had returned to Port Royal. They had all been in her father's employ and had been exceedingly trustworthy. Considering the rather unusual circumstances of both Elizabeth's and her son's lives at that point the need to hire someone of that caliber was of utmost importance –thereby making the Rubino family the ideal candidates. Unfortunately, what Elizabeth had found was that all of them were either dead or had left the island. Elizabeth had no idea why she had not called Estrella's bluff that first night. Perhaps it was because Elizabeth too had secrets best left unspoken
William had quickly taken a liking to TJ and Jacob Brantley and had begun to spend many of his afternoons with his newfound friends. Elizabeth hadn't realized until recently how little time her son had spent away from her prior to Will's return. Whether the reason was that she was too protective of him or that he felt a need to protect her – he was that much like his father in that respect –s he did not know. What she did know was that he acted as if the weight of the world had been lifted from his small shoulders. It saddened Elizabeth to think that only now was he finally allowed to be nothing other than the barely nine-year old child that he was.
Every evening Elizabeth and Will both looked forward to listening to their son recount the day's adventures – adventures that were also a source of concern for her, but she again attributed it to a long standing habit of keeping him close at hand. Hearing William's stories from afternoons spent with both Estrella's sons and the Cavanaugh boys had only made Elizabeth more suspicious about the truth behind Estrella Brantley's return to Port Royal. According to William, the family had few personal belongings and not much clothing other than what they were wearing – the excuse being that they had had to flee their former home on very short notice. Luckily, that particular problem had been simple to resolve, for between William and the Cavanaugh children, there were more than enough hand me downs – although TJ, being three years older, had been a bit more of a challenge. Even tiny Amelia had benefitted from Moira Cavanaugh's generosity, after having declared herself the younger girl's personal benefactor. Elizabeth smiled at the image of Moira already teaching Amelia how to be the perfect hostess. Would she do the same for my daughter if I had one?
Then there was the curious fact that none of the children had had any schooling, and while Amelia was still a bit too young to have attended the town school, her brothers undoubtedly should have. William claimed that their father had expressly forbidden it, even going so far as to prohibit their mother from teaching them to read. In his childish way of thinking that concept was totally unheard of – surely everyone went to school. Elizabeth smiled at the memory of how perplexed William had been at the idea of a husband placing such outlandish restrictions upon his wife. It certainly wasn't something William had, or would ever, experience, as far as his parents were concerned.
Elizabeth achingly recalled how adamant her father had been that even the poorest children be permitted to attend the school in Port Royal – something that Will had taken more advantage of than most, albeit with more than a little pressure from her. She smiled at the memory of them both at twelve, suffering through history lessons together. She had begged and pleaded with her father to allow Will to join in on her lessons, claiming that he was the only friend she had, no matter how inappropriate it may have been. Now that she thought back on that time, she was astonished at how easily her father had capitulated with her request. Did Father know I needed him even then?
Returning her thoughts to Estrella and her children, she realized how grateful she was that Laura Cavanaugh had taken it upon herself to teach TJ and Jacob as much as she was able to over the summer months, in preparation for attending school with everyone else in the fall. Elizabeth would have liked to believe that Laura's motivation had been purely altruistic, but truthfully it was probably more of a preventative measure on her part. Laura's sons were well known for getting into mischief – by making sure the other two boys who lived at the Flash of Green attended school too, she cut down on her own children's chances of getting into trouble. Surely at least one of the boys was bound to let their plans slip. Knowing William's own thirst for adventure did nothing to advance his case for attending school with his friends during the coming year. No matter how much she trusted her son, she knew that mischief had a habit of finding him.
Elizabeth cringed at the idea that the harsh reality of life for those less fortunate than the Turner family was beginning to become abundantly clear to William. Even during their years on the run, and in hiding, he had never suffered too much in the way of hardships. She was well aware that her son was sheltered in some respects. But look at the other things he's had to deal with. Perhaps his new friends would be a lesson for him that no matter what their circumstances, people were the same inside, and that money and station did not necessarily make you better than anyone else.
Elizabeth continued to stare out the window as she tried to convince herself that her desire to spend time with her husband was the only reason she had avoided going to the Flash of Green. It had been simple to explain her absence during the morning hours by claiming she had business to attend to or simply did not want to interrupt the day to day routine of running the tavern. No one ever questioned the afternoons, quite possibly because that's when things truly did get hectic around the tavern. Truthfully, of all the places she and Will could have gone, had they chosen to venture out, the tavern would have been the easiest. He had already met the Cavanaughs and despite the minimal interaction with them when he was working, they had at least exchanged cursory greetings and such. Estrella had known Will nearly as long as Elizabeth had, so that was no excuse either.
Elizabeth sighed and hugged herself tighter. If she was to be brutally honest with herself, she would have to admit that beyond those first couple of weeks after Will's return that none of her "excuses" had anything to do with the reason she had been avoiding Laura and Estrella. The truth was that she was jealous – a fact she was most certainly not proud of. At first she had not been bothered by Estrella's pregnancy, but then she had learned that Laura Cavanaugh too, was expecting another child. Had it not been for the vagaries of fate, it should have been – no, would have been her. Neither she nor Will had ever wanted William to grow up an only child as they had. And yet, now that she could quite possibly have another chance, she had no reason to believe she was pregnant and every reason to believe she was not. It didn't matter that Will repeatedly cautioned her to be patient and reminded her of the vague, but hopeful things their mothers had implied – she still continued to worry. Do I want this too much?
She dropped her hands to her side and turned from the glass doors. Will had long since gone downstairs and was probably beginning to wonder what had become of her. She took on last look at herself in the mirror and sighed before heading for the door and whatever lay ahead.
William sat at the dining table with his head resting on his outstretched left arm. In front of him lay a carefully and artfully arranged array of items – a candlestick, one overturned spoon, a teacup minus its saucer, and a carefully crumpled linen napkin, among other things. In his right hand, he held a fork at ready as he surveyed his landscape. There was no particular pattern to the arrangement and from time to time he repositioned a piece or two as he contemplated the plans he and his friends had been making for their adventure.
Even after six weeks, they hadn't managed to make much headway. Trying to find a time and a place where they could openly discuss their options was difficult, at best. William was beginning to wonder if parents really could read minds, because at least one of them showed up at the most inopportune moments. Moira and Amelia were another story entirely. No matter how many times their older brothers told them to leave them alone, and go have a tea party with their dolls, they still insisted on following the boys' nearly every move. William grimaced at the thought of the constant teasing he got from the other boys about Moira. She really was getting quite annoying, and he had no idea what to do about it. I would hate to have a baby sister.
William took the fork, and placed it tines down next to the spoon. He then carefully tilted so that only one of the tines touched the table, and then rotated it around so that it now faced the opposite direction. He continued this process, meticulously measuring the distance between the spoon and the saucer. Eleven forkfuls – I thought it was farther. From the saucer he continued plotting his course to the napkin-island, circumnavigated it, then measured the distance back to his home port at the spoon. He chewed on his lower lip as he thought how much easier their journey would be if they only knew where the mysterious island was – not as easy as navigating silverware around the table to be sure—but charting a course would be no problem for him. Had he not spent more time aboard a ship than he had on land during his short nine years? Almost as much as papa.
Truthfully, where they were headed was the easy part. Finding a way to get there was proving to be much more of a challenge. His parents owned the perfect sized boat for such a short jaunt, one that could easily be sailed by five young boys –even if four of them had limited experience. That detail alone had been enough to get him unanimously elected captain for the expedition. Right now, his biggest problem was how to actually borrow the boat. It wasn't as if he could just ask. There was no way that his parents would allow that, no matter how much experience he had. He couldn't help but believe there was a solution to his problem – if only he could think of it. In the meantime, all they could do was wait, and take advantage of any opportunities as they arose.
William had intended to wait for his parents to have breakfast with them this morning, but he was beginning to despair of them every coming downstairs. He knew they were awake, he had heard them talking as he passed by their room, but as was often the case, they were taking their time. William rearranged the topography of his imaginary world, and resumed his relentless measuring of distance by fork tines as he tried to ignore the sound of his stomach growling.
Will stopped just shy of the entrance to the dining room to watch his son. He smiled at the memory of himself, not much younger than William was now, doing almost the exact same thing. He could remember sitting at a table in the kitchen while his mother prepared meals for the family she worked for. Instead of spoons and cups to represent his islands, he had used whatever food items his mother currently had on the table – a potato here, an onion there, maybe even an apple or two on occasion. In his mind, they had represented the Caribbean – where he had believed his father to be. In Will's imagination, the two of them had sailed side by side from port to port in a magnificent ship, in search of endless adventure. He was not unaware of how close, and yet how far off, his fantasy had been. He did not know if the little world William currently had set up was a representation of any place as specific as his had been, but he had a feeling that this was not the first time his son had played this game, and that at some point it had served a similar purpose as his own version had.
"Papa!" William shouted gleefully as he noticed his father standing under the archway. He straightened up in his seat the right way in case his mother wasn't far behind. He was sure she wouldn't approve of his manners at the moment. "Keep your elbows off the table" was a common refrain for Elizabeth. William could only imagine what she would say if she caught him with his head on it.
"Good morning." Will felt the same jolt of pride in his chest as he did every morning when he saw his son. Elizabeth had assured him that the feeling never went away, and to just enjoy it for what it was – the realization that the little boy was a combination of the best of both of them and how much he loved him. He fervently hoped that she was right, but then again, she usually was.
Will walked over to the table and looked at his son's handiwork. "What do we have here?" he asked, ruffling the boy's hair before taking his seat at the head of the table.
"Nothing." William began putting everything back where it belonged. "I was just playing while I waited for you and Mama."
"I would have thought you would have long since been outside playing with Brigand or following Evan around." Will heard the audible growl from the boy's stomach. "Haven't you eaten?" he asked disbelievingly.
"I wanted to have breakfast with you, so I waited." William shrugged his shoulders.
"So, I gathered. Shall I…"
Will's offer was interrupted by Mercedes entrance from the kitchen. She was carrying a tray containing a tea pot, three cups and everything else they would need. "Good morning, Captain Turner, William," she said brightly as she gently placed the tray on the table and began removing its contents.
"It's just Will. You don't have to call me anything other than that. Actually, I think I would prefer that."
"Yes, sir," Mercedes nodded her head noncommittally. "Get started with your tea and I'll be right back with your breakfast."
As soon as Mercedes was through the door Will spoke. "I'm never going to get used to that."
William wrinkled an eyebrow in confusion. "Get used to what?"
"How she just knows when to come in without anyone telling her."
"Oh. That. I guess I just don't notice it anymore." William looked at his father thoughtfully. "Papa? Why are you dressed up today?" He righted the teacup island he had created, and poured his tea into it, completely ignoring the clean one Mercedes had brought.
Will looked down at what he had on having entirely forgotten that he was wearing some of his new clothes. "Do you like them?" he asked in an amused tone as he stood up to make a show of modeling his attire. He wore a coat and breeches that were such a dark shade green that it was nearly black over a snowy white shirt and buff colored waistcoat. On his feet was a new pair of shiny black boots. His dark hair was neatly pulled back and tied with a matching length of green ribbon.
William giggled at his father's impromptu fashion show. "But you still didn't tell me why you're dressed up today," he complained. "I was hoping you would stay here with me today." William tried to keep the disappointment out of his voice. He pulled the sugar bowl over and began scooping spoonfuls of the light tan crystals into his cup.
Will sat back down as Mercedes returned with another tray, this one loaded with hot rolls, butter, jam, honey, assorted sliced fruit and more. This time she left the entire tray on the table. "Thank you, Mercedes," Will called after her as she headed back outside.
"You're most welcome, Captain…Will." She finished her statement with a nervous laugh, closing the door behind her.
"Papa!" William was getting impatient.
"All right," Will laughed. "Your mother is taking me to the shipyards to meet Mr. Davidson and to inspect the new ship. She somehow thought this," he gestured at his clothes "was more appropriate that what I normally wear."
"You mean she doesn't want you to look like a pirate today." He grabbed a roll, split it open and put it on his plate.
"Something like that," Will mused, as he began to prepare his own cup of tea. "And I never was really a pirate."
"But I thought she liked for you to be a pirate." William dragged the honey pot over to his plate and began slathering his roll with the thick, golden syrup.
"And where did you get an idea like that?" Will sounded slightly worried. He picked up a roll of his own, and watched William.
"I overheard her say that to you one night. You were in your room." William paid no attention to his father's horrified expression as he considered his chances of getting away with putting a second layer of honey on his bread.
"I don't think you're supposed to do that," Will managed to say in a strangled voice, reaching to move the honey pot out of William's reach – grateful to have an excuse to change the subject.
William grinned innocently at his father. He had known all along that there would only be a limited window of opportunity as far as getting away with things, but he was surprised at how quickly his father was learning the rules. Learning that William had an incurable sweet tooth was one of the first things he had figured out.
"Papa, is it very hard to find north without a compass?"
"No, not really. Why?" Will drizzled honey all over his roll as well.
"Can you teach me how?" William asked hopefully.
"I suppose." Will began adding to the ample layer of honey already on his roll.
"Papa!" William said sharply.
"What?" Will's eyes opened wide as he realized what he had done. He grinned sheepishly at his son and pushed the honey pot back to him. "That will have to be our secret."
"And what secret would that be?" Elizabeth asked as she entered the room. She walked to the far side of the table and kissed the top of William's head. "Good morning," she said, before returning to her own seat.
"You look very pretty today, Mama." William smiled beatifically at his mother.
"Thank you, but it's still not going to get you out of answering my question." She picked up the teapot and began to pour.
"It's just man stuff," Will said looking at his wife with a bemused smile on his face.
"Oh, I see. And since I'm not a man, I'm not privy to these secrets?" Elizabeth asked, making a face at William.
William giggled at his mother, but kept his secret.
"Did your father tell you we're going out today?" Elizabeth managed to mask her concerns. She worried about Will facing so many people he didn't know—all of them with questions he didn't want to answer and, as always, she worried about leaving William at home. While she rarely went anywhere without her son in tow, it wasn't really all that unusual for her to leave him at home on the infrequent occasions when she went to take care of business matters. But for some odd reason, she was more anxious about it today than normal. She had no idea why, which unsettled her further. Could it be because everything in my life seems so perfect now, and I'm afraid that something bad will surely happen? She pushed the thought from her mind as she speared a chunk of papaya from the bowl of fruit.
"Yes, ma'am. He said you're going to see the new ship." He stretched his head up to see what else was in the fruit bowl – papaya not being his favorite. "And I don't get to go, do I?" He scowled at that idea.
Elizabeth pushed the bowl towards him. "No, not today. I think it would be best if it was just your father and me today." She looked at Will to see if she could read his thoughts on the matter, but he didn't seem to have much of an opinion at the moment. "Maybe next time all three of us can go? Besides, I thought you were going to go play with your friends this morning."
"No ma'am. Jonathan and Robbie have to help their father all day and TJ and Jacob have lessons this morning." He shrugged noncommittally, but still managed to look hopeful that his mother would change her mind.
Will tilted his head slightly, and looked at Elizabeth with one eyebrow raised questioningly. They had both assumed that William had other plans, and as such had not included him in theirs. And while today might be easier without him around, Will did enjoy his son's company. The boy could hardly go five minutes without finding something to amuse him, and laughter was something that had been in short supply in Will's world.
Elizabeth almost imperceptibly shook her head. "We should be back by this afternoon, maybe we can all go for a walk on the beach or something?" Elizabeth knew he was disappointed. The fact that he rarely asked for anything – other than his endless requests for a little brother—made her feel a bit guilty at rejecting his request.
William skewered some mango slices and added them to his plate as he considered his mother's proposal. He chewed thoughtfully, his gaze shifting between his parents. "I suppose that will have to do, but next time…" He waved his fork at his mother.
"Why, yes sir. Anything you say, sir," she responded with a laugh.
Will pushed his chair back from the table, stood up and offered his wife his hand. "Are you ready?"
Elizabeth smiled up at him as she took his hand and stood next to him. "We won't be long, I promise," she said to William.
Will released Elizabeth's hand for a moment and stepped over to William's seat. He crouched down so that he was eye to eye with the boy. "We'll do something special soon, just you and me." His voice was hardly above a whisper. William nodded and smiled as his father kissed his forehead then stood back up. "I trust you'll stay out of too much mischief while we're gone?"
"Yes, sir!" He replied with just a tad too much enthusiasm. He had already decided how he was going to spend his morning and fortunately, it would meet his father's requirements – for today at least.
The day's oppressive heat washed over Will and Elizabeth as they stepped out the front door. They were no strangers to hot weather, but they were both beginning to question their decision to go to the shipyard today of all days. It might not have been so bad had they not already decided to walk. Their destination was actually far enough from their home that, under normal circumstances Elizabeth might have arranged for a carriage, but they had both decided that it would be to their advantage if the residents of Port Royal started becoming accustomed to the sight of Elizabeth with her husband. Their hope was that they would quickly become such a familiar sight, that it would curb at least some of the curiosity.
Evan, Mercedes, and Mrs. Lansford could all attest to the townspeople's curiosity about Will. All three of them had been accosted at some point with people wanting to know this and that about the mysterious Captain Turner. The fact that he had remained in self imposed seclusion for a month and a half hadn't helped. Elizabeth was sure that the walk to the shipyards would take far longer than normal as it would be virtually impossible to not have to stop and socialize with inquisitive townspeople.
Will offered his arm to Elizabeth. She slipped her left hand into the crook of his elbow and placed the right one on his forearm. She would have much rather just held his hand, but today they were having to play by society's arbitrary rules, and holding hands just was not done in public. It was early enough that the streets were still mostly deserted, much to Will's relief. He knew that this would get easier the more he got out of the house, but that fact was doing nothing to quell his nerves right now.
"You look quite handsome today."
Will exhaled sharply. "Do I? I feel more uncomfortable than anything." He ran one finger of his free hand around the inside of his collar.
"You'll get used to it again soon enough. You've done it before."
"True. And I don't have quite so much to learn this time, do I?" He gave Elizabeth a lopsided grin.
"No, but I must say you've been doing quite well at your newest responsibility."
"My what? Did I miss something?" He searched his brain for some memory of recently added responsibilities.
Elizabeth laughed lightly, and leaned her head in to Will's shoulder for a second. "Learning to be William's father? Did you forget that already?"
"Oh! That." He sounded relieved that he had not forgotten something else. "Am I? Sometimes I feel like I have no idea what I'm doing." He covered her right hand with his left.
"Unfortunately, that feeling never quite goes away. Just when you think you have him figured out, he goes and does something totally unexpected."
Will rolled his eyes. "Well that's encouraging," he said sarcastically.
"Are you sure you want another one?" She was only partly joking.
"Yes," he answered without hesitation then kissed her temple.
"Mrs. Turner! How nice to see you! It's been ages," called a friendly sounding voice from across the street.
Elizabeth felt Will flinch at the interruption. Neither of them had been paying much attention to their surroundings as they walked along, but she now realized that they were in the midst of the more commercial section of Port Royal. The dressmakers, tailors, cobblers, jewelers and such on these streets tended to cater to the more elite citizens of the town. These were the places that Will would have not received a very warm welcome, until that last year before the Company came. Even then, he had only ventured here at Elizabeth's insistence, and always in her company. He knew that now no one would give a second thought as to whether or not he belonged here, but there was that little part of the old Will – the one who was an orphaned blacksmith's apprentice, who lived in a much less desirable part of the town—that still felt vaguely uncomfortable among these people.
"Mrs. Worthington. Hello." Elizabeth responded to the woman who was now rapidly approaching. She felt Will's arm tense beneath her fingers, and squeezed them in what she hoped he recognized as a gesture of reassurance.
"I was just asking your housekeeper the other day where you have been hiding yourself. She said your husband was home?" She smiled brightly at Will. "And I suppose that must be you!"
Will still had not relaxed his grip as Elizabeth answered for him. "Why yes, Mrs. Worthington, this is my husband, William Turner," Elizabeth proudly introduced him. "Will, this is Agnes Worthington. She and her husband own the chandler's shop."
Will smiled graciously at the woman as he tried to memorize what she looked like for later reference. A good bit shorter than Elizabeth, a little older, mousy brown hair, kind of nondescript features and overly friendly. "Pleased to meet you, Mrs. Worthington." He nodded to her, but did not release his hold on Elizabeth.
"It's Captain Turner, is it not? I hadn't heard of any new ships coming in, but I suppose I could have missed one." She wrinkled her brow and tilted her head as she tried to recall a ship that she could not possibly have seen. "No matter." She shook her head as if disagreeing with herself. "How long will you be here, if I might ask?"
Elizabeth looked up adoringly at her husband. "Forever," she whispered so that only he could hear, then turned to Mrs. Worthington. "He's not leaving again. I need help with the company so he's retiring from the sea – after a fashion I suppose."
Agnes clapped her hands together in delight. "Oh, I am so absolutely happy for you. I'm sure your son is excited, too. You simply must all join us for supper one evening. I insist! Mr. Worthington would never forgive me otherwise."
"Thank you, Mrs. Worthington," Will responded. "We would very much like that." He squeezed Elizabeth's fingers then relaxed his grip.
"Mrs. Worthington? I really don't mean to be rude, but Will and I have an appointment with Mr. Davidson to inspect our new ship and we're running a bit late – so if you'll please excuse us?" Elizabeth said apologetically.
"Oh, that's quite all right. I certainly didn't mean to keep you." She turned her attention to Will. "I'm sure you won't regret your decision to stay for one moment, and I dare say the same goes for your family."
Will gave her an almost shy smile. "I'm sure you're right," he said softly, almost shyly.
"Well now, I must be on my way and so must the two of you! I'm quite serious about the invitation, but I will give you both a bit more time to settle in. I'm sure this will be an adjustment for the both of you. Please, enjoy the rest of your day." Agnes then turned and continued on her way without once looking back.
"She seems nice," Will commented as he looked at Elizabeth.
"She is," Elizabeth agreed. "And I think you handled it quite well," she added proudly. "I promise, it will get easier."
The rest of the walk took every bit as long as Elizabeth had anticipated. No one they encountered was willing to pass up a chance to meet Elizabeth's both elusive and mysterious husband. All in all, she thought it had gone quite well. No one asked too many prying questions or at least none that couldn't be handled quickly and efficiently with minimal offense to everyone involved. Those who knew or remembered Will from his time in Port Royal before the untimely arrival of the East India Trading Company had at least granted them the courtesy of not mentioning the events surrounding his and Elizabeth's unscheduled departure. They were both well aware of how lucky they had been this morning and that that luck would not hold forever. Perhaps given time, the curiosity would fade and life would settle into some semblance of normal – or at least what would be considered normal for the likes of the Turner family.
Oliver Davidson was not a nervous man by nature, and yet today he found himself fidgeting relentlessly and unable to concentrate. No matter how hard he tried to focus on the ledgers on the desk in front of him, his mind continued to wander to Elizabeth Turner's impending visit. Logically, he could remind himself that her presence at the Turner-Castillo offices was nothing out of the ordinary, for she visited on a regular basis. And unlike many of the business owners he had worked for in the past, she was quite hands on and extremely knowledgeable about her company – or rather the company that she claimed belonged to her and her husband.
It was the thought of her husband that Oliver found so distracting. He was well aware of the gossip and speculation surrounding his absence, but Oliver had never felt it was any of his concern. Had anyone asked his opinion, he would have said he believed that the man she had married had long since passed on, and that she continued to insist that he was merely away for an extended period for no other reason than to smooth her way into a predominately male dominated business. With as much business savvy as she had, it would not be difficult to imagine her doing something of the sort.
And yet now he was beginning to doubt his assumption. As always, she had sent him a note advising him of her intentions, but this one had been distinctly different. Instead of her normal "I" this one had clearly stated that "we" were coming to inspect the new, still unnamed, ship. It was that use of first person plural that had caught him off guard. Initially, he had discounted the change as a simple grammatical error, but the longer he thought about it, the less inclined he was to believe that. It had taken less than an hour for him to convince himself that Elizabeth Turner was coming today and that she was not coming alone.
Mr. Davidson took off his glasses and began cleaning them with his handkerchief as he thought back to the day nearly six weeks earlier when he had gone to the Turner house. He had been nervous that day too, but with good reason. It was never a pleasant experience to tell an owner that they had lost both a ship and the valuable cargo it had been carrying – neither of which had been found, despite the extensive search they had been conducting. Elizabeth's reaction to the news that day had been unusual to say the least – she had not gotten angry as he had expected, but instead she seemed mystified by the development. It had not occurred to Oliver until days later that in the almost four years he had been in her employ, the company had never once lost a ship or its cargo – not to pirates, not to weather, not to a ship sinking, not to, well…anything. No one was that lucky, but it would seem that the owner of Turner-Castillo Shipping was.
Then there was the matter of her normally amiable and gracious demeanor being instead both anxious and impatient. She had not been rude, and not rushed him, but he had gotten the distinct impression that she would rather be elsewhere. It was not until their meeting was concluded, and she was showing him to the door, that he gotten any inkling about the cause of her distraction. As soon as they had entered the main hallway of the house he became aware of a deep, male voice coming from further down the hall. Elizabeth had instinctively smiled and turned her head in the direction of the sound as soon as she heard it. Oliver, without thinking, had looked in the same direction.
The man who had been leaning against the doorway with his back to them was tall, much taller than Oliver, and well muscled. Obviously he was not a man who spent his days behind a desk, but rather at some type of hard, physical labor. His voice was soft enough that Oliver could not make out the words, but it was apparent from his tone that he was undeniably used to being obeyed. Elizabeth had not given him the chance to inquire as to the man's identity, but had instead hurried him on his way. Could that have been Captain Turner? Was he part of the "we" that would be arriving shortly?
Elizabeth peered through the office windows before going to the door. Mr. Davidson sat at his desk, with his work spread before him, obviously thinking about something, but she could not imagine what. He seldom, if ever, spoke of his wife, and was wont to keep his personal life entirely separate from his work, so that clearly was not the culprit. Had there been anything amiss with company business, he would have long since apprised her of the situation. She frowned slightly and shook her head as she pushed open the door, and entered with Will close behind.
"Mr. Davidson?" Elizabeth asked hesitantly, still unsure of what was bothering the man. She stepped forward as Will pushed the door quietly closed behind her.
Oliver Davidson snapped to attention. "Mrs. Turner! Good morning!" he said too enthusiastically, bolting from his chair, and knocking it over in the process. He idly noted that he had been right about her not coming alone. The man at her side looked familiar, but Oliver was sure he had never met him. He also looked slightly amused – most likely due to Oliver's reaction to their entrance.
"Oh my! We certainly didn't mean to startle you. Perhaps we should have knocked first?" Elizabeth said apologetically.
"No, no – quite all right. I'm just…distracted today and it is your office after all," Oliver stuttered as he righted his chair, then came around the desk. He stole another look at the man next to Elizabeth and realized where he had seen him before or rather not seen him, but had seen his portrait. He was the same man from the miniature on Elizabeth's desk at her home – only he didn't look much older than he had in the painting, just more – weathered, perhaps?
"We don't want to disturb your work, but I thought I would introduce you to my husband before we go inspect the ship," Elizabeth still sounded a bit perplexed by Oliver's unusual behavior.
"So you are Captain Turner!" Oliver sounded both stunned and relieved, offering Will his hand.
"Yes," Will answered with one eyebrow slightly raised and his head slightly tilted as he accepted the other man's handshake.
"I believe I saw you the day I came to your home, but I had almost convinced myself I had imagined it." Mr. Davidson was beginning to recover his normal refined composure. "Will you be in Port Royal long? I would hope so for your wife's sake… and your son's too, of course. He's a dear boy – almost makes me regret not having one of my own."
Will gave Oliver a bemused smile. "Thank you, I'm quite proud of him." He turned to look at Elizabeth. "And as for my stay in Port Royal, I entirely intend for that to be permanent," he said adamantly before softening his tone. "I've missed them too much."
Oliver caught Elizabeth's shy smile in response to her husband's words. She was obviously quite pleased with his declaration, and with good reason. "Shall I take you on a tour of the ship?" he offered, hoping they would decline. Something about the way they looked at each other gave him the feeling that they wanted, even needed, to be alone. How long have they been apart?
"Thank you, but no. I'm all too well acquainted with anything that floats. I'm sure Elizabeth and I can manage on our own. "
"Very well, very well. Don't let me keep you," Oliver said cordially, opening the door for them.
Oliver watched at the window as Elizabeth and her husband headed towards the docks. He immediately noticed that as soon as they cleared the door they gave up all pretense of man escorting his wife, and instead walked hand in hand like two young lovers. Even from a distance he could tell that they were laughing and teasing each other. He watched as Elizabeth turned to walk backwards down the dock, leading her husband, both of his hands held in hers. Had he not known that they were both past thirty and long married, he would have taken them to be an innocent young girl and her favorite suitor. He turned from the window as he again felt that vague sense of intruding on their privacy – even though they were clearly out in public.
He sat back at his desk and prepared to resume his work as he wondered about Captain Turner and where he had been all this time. From the way he treated his wife and spoke of his son, Mr. Davidson couldn't imagine he would have stayed away from them voluntarily. He also worried about how things were going to change now that Mrs. Turner's husband was back in the picture. Would he want to take a more active role in the business? Was it possible Oliver would now be made obsolete? All I can do is wait and see.