The heavy rains from the morning had left the streets of Port Royal a muddy mess. Those residents who did not have to be out and about had opted to stay indoors to avoid the myriad puddles and accumulated filth of the streets. The resulting paucity of pedestrians allowed Will and Elizabeth to walk the distance from their home to Mr. Brown's former smithy without interruption. Elizabeth, who never had been and never would be one for convention, had taken the opportunity to walk hand in hand with Will, instead of the more formal manner preferred in public—not that she really cared much either way.
The menacing black clouds that still covered the bright blue of the Caribbean sky kept the normally oppressive July heat to a tolerable level. In fact, it was almost abnormally cool—relatively speaking, of course. Despite a few spits of water from the gathering thunderheads, the Turners reached their destination mostly dry and only slightly mud spattered.
"The sign's missing," Will commented, looking at the empty bracket suspended over the main door. "And the sword is gone again," he added, taking in the statue that stood in an alcove just outside the shop. The sword that Will had added to the display when he had mastered the techniques required to forge them himself, had remained in place, undisturbed, until the day Jack Sparrow had come to Port Royal. After that, it tended to disappear for days at a time only to reappear with little to show for its adventure.
"It was gone by the time I…we came back, I assume it was taken down after Mr. Brown passed on," Elizabeth commented , referring to the wooden placard identifying the business as being both a smithy and as belonging to Mr. Brown, as she rummaged through a pocket in her skirt. "Here it is!" she exclaimed, holding up a large, only slightly rusty skeleton key. "I believe this is yours," she said with a smile and handed the key to Will.
Will hesitantly accepted the key from her and weighed it in his hands as he glanced towards the heavy padlock on the door. He smiled grimly at Elizabeth. "This seems to be a recurring theme with you," he said only half jokingly, carefully fitting the key into the lock.
Elizabeth grimaced at the thought, but said nothing. She did smile ever so slightly at Will's startled expression at the quiet snick of the lock opening smoothly. He obviously had expected a struggle with a long unused and most likely rusted set of tumblers. Perhaps she should have told him that Evan kept everything they owned in working order, no matter where or what it was.
Will drew a deep breath and pushed open the heavy wooden door to reveal the intimately familiar room where he had spent so much of his life. The interior was dark—very dark. Without the warm red glow of the embers in the forge or the rays of sunlight that normally trickled through the spaces between the boards, the space felt almost forlorn, if not forgotten.
Elizabeth reluctantly let go of Will's hand, as he stepped away from her into the gloom. She could tell by the anguished expression on his face that some of the more demeaning injustices that had been committed against him were foremost on his mind. No matter how much she wanted, this was one area where she was helpless when it came to providing Will with any solace. The battles he was about to face were his and his alone. All she could do was remain by his side, both literally and figuratively, and offer what support she could.
It took just a few seconds for Will's eyes to adjust to the dim light inside the smithy. He slowly turned in a half circle, surveying the room and its contents. Had he not known better, he could have sworn that he—most certainly not Mr. Brown—had only recently finished his day's tasks, returned his tools to where they belonged, and tidied up his work area. Every hammer, every swage, every set of tongs—even the anvils –were all clean and in their proper place. All that was missing was the unwashed form of a blindingly inebriated Mr. Brown slumped in a chair. That alone was an improvement over the last time he had been there.
Will crossed slowly to the center of the shop, where the expertly wrought swords he made had hung on display. Who makes all these? He could almost see them hanging there still awaiting their potential new masters. I do! And I practice with them three hours a day. He remembered the unexpected, but appreciated increase in orders after his and Elizabeth's ordeal on Isla de Muerta and the aftermath of their return. You need to find yourself a girl, mate. From that point on, it had been impossible for Mr. Brown to continue passing off Will's work as his own. As a result, Will's seldom sober master had been forced to part with the profits he had kept mostly to himself. You threatened Miss Swann! Will turned back to the doorway and smiled at the former Miss Swann who stood anxiously awaiting any sign from her husband that she should join him. Oh! So it is that you've found a girl.
Elizabeth smiled shyly back at Will. She cautiously descended the rough steps that led from the street to the dirt packed floor of the smithy and joined her husband in the center of the room. Her anxiety level decreased to near nothingness when Will put his arms around her, pulled her in close, and kissed her forehead.
"Thank you," he breathed. "Where would I be without you?"
Elizabeth laughed lightly. "Probably right here, doing what you always did and never complaining."
Will touched his forehead to hers and stared into her eyes. "Then I suppose the question should be whether or not you would be with me."
"No," she answered, stifling another laugh at the shocked expression in Will's eyes. "I would be at home, taking care of the children, terrorizing the staff or some other such nonsense."
Will kissed the tip of Elizabeth's nose before lifting his forehead from hers. "I'm reasonably sure that the blacksmith's wife wouldn't have staff."
"But this blacksmith's services are in high demand. He makes beautiful swords, you see."
Will's mood shifted from playful to serious in the blink of an eye. "Elizabeth, I haven't made a sword in over a decade. It will almost be like starting over as an apprentice again."
Elizabeth followed Will's lead and resumed a more serious demeanor. This was one of the things she had worried about. He was caught between the desire to do something productive and the fact that he had the luxury to do nothing if he so chose. Anyone who knew Will at all would immediately know that he was far more inclined to lean towards the former rather than the latter, but as to exactly what he wanted to do was still a mystery, even to him. "If this is what you want to do, then this is what you should do. We can't allow what happened to you—t o us—to continue to direct our lives. It's our turn now."
"But…"he started to say, before Elizabeth put a finger to his lips and cut off the rest of his statement.
"Practice makes perfect," she said, all the while thinking how much easier this would be if Will was not quite such a perfectionist when it came to his craft or anything for that matter.
Will brought his hand up to his face to grasp Elizabeth's. He forced his fingers between hers, and kissed her now exposed palm. Elizabeth's eyes closed as she sighed peacefully, and allowed Will to wrap her arm around his neck. He then redirected his attention to her lips, to kiss her with intense slowness. Elizabeth responded willingly. She could hear her heart beating faster, her breath growing shorter, and the heat of desire begin to spread through her body.
She gasped in dismay when Will pulled himself away from her. She kept her eyes closed as she placed her hand over Will's heart. It was small consolation, but the simple fact that his heart was beating as uncontrollably as her own pleased her. Yet they had both come dangerously close to crossing the line between daring and dangerous. After all, they were technically in a public place and the street side door to the shop still stood wide open.
"Follow me. I want to see the rest." His voice was tinged with the child-like excitement of a new adventure. "I want to show you the rest." He grasped the hand that Elizabeth held over his heart. "I want to tell you how it all happened." He pulled her in the direction of the over-sized doors at the rear of the smithy—the ones she knew led to the courtyard, the stables and then to the tiny room that Will had called home for so many years.
Elizabeth followed without hesitation. It was difficult to not get caught up in Will's sudden enthusiasm. What a strange day this has been with him. She had to admit that she was curious as to what he had meant about "how it all happened." She knew the basics of his arrest on their intended wedding day, but surely he wouldn't sound so excited to tell her about that.
Outside, the skies were still dismally gray and the storm clouds were beginning to regroup. It didn't take someone with as much experience with foul weather as either Will or Elizabeth to discern that the rains would begin again soon, this time harder than before. The courtyard was already a maze of mud puddles; much more water would turn it into a bog.
"They're still here. I thought surely they would have died," Will said with disbelief.
"Who is still here?" Elizabeth looked around the courtyard in confusion.
Will laughed. "Not who. What. The roses." He dragged Elizabeth towards a massive tangle of pale pink blossoms and wicked looking thorns that dominated what, on any other day, would be a sunny, but protected corner of the courtyard. "Mrs. Brown helped me plant them and showed me how to care for them when they first took me in." Elizabeth noticed the break in his voice and the briefest flash of sadness in his eyes. "They were in memory of my mother."
Elizabeth wrapped her arms around his waist and leaned in to him. "I think you have Evan to thank for their rescue and resurrection. He's the one who put things to rights here and at the house…both houses actually."
"Both?" Will wasn't sure if he had heard her correctly.
"Mr. Brown left you his house when he passed away. You were all he had, even if you were…not here. Evan took it upon himself to do the upkeep there too. I have to admit that it has had its uses."
"Do I not want to know what these uses may be?" Will asked hesitantly. He wrapped one arm around her and moved closer to the roses.
"Not today. Today is about you; just you and not any questionable tenants we may have had." Elizabeth reached out to cup one of the delicate blooms, taking care to avoid the thorns. "They're beautiful."
"I think you may have just answered my question." He took his arm from around Elizabeth and snapped off one of the stems from the rose bush. "Might I ask how it is Evan knows about roses of all things? Is there anything he can't do?" Will handed the single stem to Elizabeth.
Elizabeth gazed lovingly at her husband as she accepted his impromptu gift. "He doesn't read very well and he's not very skilled when it comes to maths, but anything he has to do with his hands he learns alarmingly fast. I'm sure it was the only way he survived before I met him. To a certain extent, he's as curious about things as your son, just with a longer attention span."
"I find that hard to imagine." Will smirked at Elizabeth.
"You should give him a chance. Not that you haven't. Let him help you here. I think you'll be in for a pleasant surprise."
Will's head jerked up just as the first fat drop of rain splashed into the nearest puddle. Noticing that the imminent torrential downpour would be underway in seconds, he grabbed Elizabeth's hand and dragged her towards the stables. Although the distance they had to cover wasn't much, they were not quite fast enough to completely avoid the deluge.
"Speaking of surprises," Will commented, shaking the water off his arms and then brushing at his clothes in mirror image of Elizabeth. His wife looked at him grimly and shivered slightly. The water was cold enough without adding the winds that accompanied it. "Follow me," he said, offering her his hand and leading her to a narrow wooden door barely visible at the far end of the stable, beyond the long empty stalls even.
Elizabeth followed complacently. She raised one eyebrow as she perused the door. "Why, might I ask, are you showing me the tack room?"
Will turned to face her, put one hand on her neck and kissed her softly. "It's not a tack room or at least it hasn't been for years. It's my room. This is where I lived."
A knot formed in Elizabeth's stomach. She knew that Will's living conditions were only slightly better than living in squalor and that was only because of his own refusal to accept that was all life had to offer him. Since it would have been beyond inappropriate, during their courtship, even by her own standards, for her to visit his room with or without an escort, she had been left to picture what she wanted. The reality of how Will had lived came as an unexpected shock to her system. She immediately recognized the fact that, even after all the time they had known each other, she still did not fully understand the bleak circumstances of his youth. She also knew that there was nothing to be gained by letting it get to her now. Will had always had a much clearer picture of their differences, and as long as it no longer concerned him, then why should she let it concern her?
Elizabeth composed herself, despite her increased shivering, and shyly peered at Will through her eyelashes. "Mr. Turner, I really don't think this is at all appropriate. What will people say?"
"I really don't care what they say," he answered, pushing the door open and pulling her into the room.
It would have been difficult to tell which Turner was more shocked by the interior of the room. Will had braced himself to see everything just as it had been left when he was arrested, with the only addition being more than ten year's worth of dust and dirt accumulation. Instead, everything was in pristine condition or at least as much as it ever had been. The wash stand, that had been overturned and broken when the Marines had come, had been repaired and refurbished. The narrow cot where he used to sleep was neatly made up with an extra blanket fastidiously folded near the foot. A small table was pushed into one corner. All that was missing was the large wooden chest that had contained all his worldly belongings, but that had been removed to the Governor's mansion in preparation of him imminently taking up residence there.
Elizabeth had known the space was small, but not quite nearly so compact as it actually was. Even the prison cells she had been held in were larger than this. It didn't matter that Will had described his home to her in great detail. Her image of it and the reality of it were two entirely different things. She had known that the floor was simply packed dirt. How many times had Will spoken of covering it with straw during the rainy season, to keep the mud at bay? He had mentioned the numerous chinks in the walls and leaks in the roof on more than one occasion. She knew that Evan had spent time repairing the roof, but even now there was already water puddled on the floor. Will had never had enough money to afford anything but the most crucial repairs. What must it have been like in here during a real stor, if it's this bad on just a very rainy day? But what struck her most was the one incongruous thing about the room. On the wall opposite the cot was a carefully framed window—not merely the shuttered open spaces that the rest of the smithy had—but a real glass window. One that had to have cost Will a significant portion of his wages or, knowing Will, hours of extra labor bartered in exchange for it.
Will knew immediately what Elizabeth was thinking from the horrified expression on her face. Perhaps he had been a bit too generous when he had described this place to her all those years ago. No matter how cramped the room was, it had still been far better than he'd had reason to hope for given his circumstances. He had been grateful to still be alive. Complaining about the space that had been given him to live in would have been impolite or worse, ungrateful. His mother had taught him better than that.
"Would I be correct in assuming that this has something to do with questionable tenants?" Will asked, deciding that the room looked as if it were ready for last minute guests.
"What?" Elizabeth asked sharply. "Oh, that." She fought off another round of shivering. "I think this is more a result of Mercedes' obsessive dedication to keeping things clean."
"Exactly what possessed her to clean an empty stable? Even I would do most anything to avoid that particular chore." Heaven knows that Mr. Brown wouldn't have done it.
"I'm sure I have no idea, but at the moment she has my eternal gratitude." She pulled away from Will, snatched the blanket from the foot of the bed and wrapped it around her.
"That would work better if you took your wet things off." Will pulled the edges of the blanket closer around her.
Elizabeth promptly pulled the edges back away from her. "Well?" she said as seductively, but not convincingly, as she could through chattering teeth.
"Miss Swann! What will people say?" He kicked the door closed and began to deftly unbutton the vest she wore over her blouse. He turned to drop the sodden garment on the wash stand while Elizabeth began unbuttoning her blouse. "Here, allow me," he said quietly as he reached to where her trembling fingers were fumbling with the buttons. Elizabeth sighed happily, closed her eyes, bowed her head and allowed herself to enjoy being undressed by her husband. Her blouse and skirt soon joined her other clothes, soon to be followed by her shoes and stockings, leaving her wearing nothing but her shift. Will retrieved the momentarily discarded blanket and wrapped it around Elizabeth's shoulders then wrapped his arms around her waist.
Elizabeth leaned into his chest, expecting to soak up his warmth, but was met with his still dripping shirt. "I think it's your turn now," she pointed out. Elizabeth dropped the blanket one more time and tugged Will's shirt over his head. He took it from her and added it to the collection. Again, he picked up the blanket and draped it around her shoulders. Elizabeth pulled the blanket partway around her, but wrapped her arms around Will's neck. "You're always so warm," she purred as she began kissing the base of his throat, then working her way to his collarbone, up the side of his neck.
"I thought the point was to warm you up?" he groaned as he twisted around to catch her lips. He eased one hand up her body, teasing her chilled skin though the thin layer of fabric. He skimmed his fingers over her slender neck to the back of her head and pulled her closer still.
"It is." Elizabeth shivered again, not from cold, but from pure, unadulterated desire for Will. She could feel the cadence of his heartbeat increasing to match her own, his breathing beginning to become labored. She was only marginally aware of the hand that had remained at her waist oozing its way to her bottom until he brusquely wrenched her hips towards his, removing any doubt she could possibly have had of his intent not paralleling hers. Elizabeth tugged Will even closer still while moving ever so slowly backwards towards the narrow cot she knew was behind her.
"I don't think it's up to the challenge," he lamented, quickly catching on to Elizabeth's goal.
"I'm willing to risk it." She grunted slightly as her back made contact with not the edge of the bed, but rough hewn wood of the exterior wall.
"Are you?" Will covered her lips with his, this time kissing her more passionately than before. He pressed himself hard against her while fumbling with the ties on her bodice.
Elizabeth's response was affirmative, but entirely nonverbal. She released her arms from around Will's neck, lowered her hands to waist of his breeches and began to unfasten them with alarming speed and accuracy that only comes from intense practice.
"You're amazingly good at that," he said huskily, running his hand down the back of her thigh and then pulling her leg, along with the hem of her shift, up and over his hip.
Elizabeth exhaled heavily, locked her leg around his waist and her arms around his neck for support. "I told you, practice makes perfect," she stammered before giving herself over to the sensations coursing through her body.
The downpour had thus far shown no sign of abating, leaving Will and Elizabeth, for all practical purposes, stranded in the stable— or more specifically, in the former tack room that had once been his home. They huddled close together on the thin, straw-filled mattress of Will's former bed. Elizabeth lay on her side with her back pressed firmly against the wall, facing her husband, who also lay on his side. The narrow space didn't allow for many other options, but despite Will's early misgivings, it had been up to the challenge, so to speak. The remainder of the afternoon had been spent dozing in each other's arms, enjoying the unexpected chance to enjoy each other without worrying about a household or a business to run.
Will was awake, Elizabeth was not. He had nearly drifted off to sleep several times, but the instant his eyes closed, the images of the last day he had been in this room replayed in his mind. It was those memories that were behind his initial reluctance to return to the smithy. And so he laid there, with his wife sheltered in his arms, her warm breath tickling his chest, and her hair tickling his nose, trying to build up the courage to face his recollections of that day.
He had been up before the sun that morning—the last one he would awaken alone—and had impatiently begun his preparations for his wedding. He was both anxious and excited, not only with the thought of his and Elizabeth's wedding night, but also how his life was about to change forever. If only he had known then what that change would be. But had there been anything that could have been done to alter that course? He had worried, as he supposed any prospective bridegroom did, if he would be a good husband to Elizabeth and whether he would he be able to be an adequate provider for her and any children they should have.
He had finished dressing and was sitting on the edge of this very cot, waiting for the coach that would take him to the Governor's Mansion where he and Elizabeth would formalize the inviolable bond they had shared since childhood. It was then that he heard the commotion and muffled shouts from the street, followed by what could only be the sound of the door to the shop being forcefully opened. He almost instantaneously knew in his heart that he would not be getting married that day.
For one brief moment, he had considered leaving his room to meet the Marines that he was positive had been sent to arrest him. Having escaped the hangman's noose not once, but twice, and then only by the good graces of Governor Swann, something told him that this time his luck had run out. As to the reason, he had not even a hint, but he was reasonably confident that it had little to do with the acts of piracy for which he had been granted clemency. His future father-in-law doted on his only daughter and would have done anything to avoid causing her even momentary distress. Some unknown sense told him that the reason behind the events that were lining up had nothing to do with him and everything to do with something far more insidious and self-serving. But for whom?
Lost in his thoughts, Will hesitated just a moment too long in making his decision. The Marines burst through the door, swords drawn, rifles primed, and bayonets fixed. He had belatedly noticed the shackles and knew that the situation was far worse than he could have guessed. He stayed his instinct to resist, quickly realizing that there was no way for him to come out of the conflict alive. He was grossly outnumbered, in a cramped space, with no weapon. He remembered thinking if it was his turn to die that day, he wanted to see his much beloved Elizabeth one last time. And so he had gone without a struggle, after watching the Marines ransack his quarters in search of some unknown item. It wasn't until much later that he discovered they had already been searching for the compass that Will had never so much as held.
In the interim, the coach had arrived. Will had kept his head held high and was thus able to make eye contact with the clearly stunned and frightened coachman. He had nodded faintly to Will, agreeing to his unspoken request that he return to the Mansion in all haste and notify those in charge of the situation. Then Will, wearing chains and surrounded by an inordinate number of soldiers, had begun the long walk, in the drizzling rain, to meet his unknown fate.
As was expected, the presence of a unit of unfamiliar military personnel immediately drew the attention of the citizens of Port Royal. The sight of one of their own being marched as a prisoner through the streets attracted a crowd almost instantaneously. Will struggled to control the miasma of thoughts and emotions running through his mind and to maintain a stoic expression, as it would serve no purpose to do otherwise. At the edge of his field of vision, he could see the people—the ones he both lived among and worked with—lining the streets in silent disbelief. He was one of them, the one who had worked hard to overcome his disadvantages and had been rewarded for his efforts. But now?
Elizabeth shifted her position, snuggling closer to Will and drawing the blanket tightly around her. Will adjusted his position accordingly to allow her more room and then lightly stroked her hair while deeply inhaling the calming scent of the lemon and lavender soap she had used to wash it. He slowly exhaled as he offered a silent prayer thanking God for the strength He had given to both of them to survive their ordeals and finally form the family that they were meant to have.
Will closed his eyes, clearing his mind of nothing but the steady beat of the rain outside and the hushed sound of Elizabeth breathing, and slowly drifted off to sleep. It had taken more than ten years, but the horror of the day was finally put to rest. In its own unexpected way, all it had taken was spending a lazy, rainy afternoon, enjoying his wife's charms, in the very room where he had thought his life, in one form or another, would end.
Elizabeth rested quietly, watching the steady drizzle fall outside the lone window and listening to the steady drip, drip, drip from the leaks in the roof. The fresh, clean smell that Elizabeth normally associated with a cleansing rain shower was quickly being replaced by the smell of cold, wet, and sticky mud. If the conditions of the room were this bad after just one day of inclement weather, then what must it have been like when conditions were worse?
"Will?" she whispered, not sure if he was asleep and not wanting to awaken him if he was.
"Mmm?"
The sound was so vague that Elizabeth couldn't be sure if he had acknowledged her, or if it was nothing more than one of those noises that he sometimes made when he slept. She contemplated trying again, but decided against it. What she wanted to ask could wait. For now, she was content to just look at him. After a few minutes, Elizabeth felt the tips of his fingers softly trace the curve of her waist. His touch was so light that it would have been easy not to notice except for the way her body automatically responded to his caresses.
"You are awake."
"Mmm."
As before, it was difficult to tell if he had answered or was mumbling in his sleep, but since he had moved…
"Did you know you can see the Mansion from here? Through the window, I mean," Elizabeth continued to speak softly, on the off chance that he really was asleep. It certainly wouldn't have been the first time he had reached for her in the night without ever once realizing it.
Will made no sound, nor did he open his eyes, but the faintest of smiles slowly crept across his face.
"I'll take that as a yes," Elizabeth said happily.
Will pulled her closer still. He put one hand on the back of her head and tucked it neatly into the space between his neck and shoulder. He rubbed his chin across the top of her scalp just because he liked the silken feel of her hair against his throat.
"Once upon a time—" he began.
"Oh, so it's story time now?" Elizabeth giggled as she cut off Will's words.
"Don't interrupt me," he warned, then started his tale one more time. "Once upon a time, there was a young boy who lived in this room. He had lost the only family he knew of and was far from the only home he had ever known. "
"How did he get here?" Elizabeth teased him with both her voice and her fingers gliding up his chest.
"You're interrupting again." Will paused for a moment. "The boy had only one friend in the world, only one person who cared about him. It was the young girl who lived in the really big house at the top of the hill—the same one you can see from the window." He eased his hand back down her back to the swell of her hip. "They were only twelve or so when they first met, but they quickly became the best of friends. In fact, many people described them as being inseparable. Since the boy had nowhere to go, he was apprenticed to the blacksmith who worked here. It wasn't so bad at first; the man's wife was very kind to the boy and made sure that he was fed and clothed and all those other things a mother normally does for her children."
"But it didn't stay that way, did it?" Elizabeth tenderly kissed Will's chest over his heart, where the jagged scar he had worn for so long had been until recently.
"No, it didn't, but that's a different story. Now, hush."
"The boy would rise before dawn every morning and rush to finish his chores because in the afternoons he was allowed to visit with his friend, even if it was just for lessons, but sometimes her governess would take them to the shore…"
"To play pirates."
"Interrupting? Yes, they played pirates. As the years passed and they both grew from children into young adults, the boy's…excuse me, the young man's feelings for the girl grew too. He realized that he didn't just love her as one does a friend, but loved her enough that he would have done anything to spend the rest of his life with her."
"And they lived happily ever after. I think I know this story." Elizabeth redirected her attentions to the base of Will's throat.
"We're not to that part yet." His fingers tightened on her flesh in response to her ministrations. "No more talking."
"One year, when they were both fifteen, the girl invited her friend to be her guest at the Winter Ball that her father was hosting. He was very nervous. He knew he didn't have the proper clothes to wear or the money to buy them. "
"Is that why you didn't come? I waited for you all night."
Will knew from the tone of her voice that what she said was true. He had hurt her and yet they had never talked about his absence that night,. He hated to admit it, but it was strangely reassuring to know that she truly wanted him to be there. He knew he should have told her why he hadn't been so long ago, but as long as she had never brought up the subject he had chosen to let it lie. "No, that's not why. A few days before the young man's sixteenth birthday, he was preparing to start his walk up the hill to his customary lessons and to spend time with the girl, but that never happened. A man, one that he had known from the beginning, came to see him."
"It was James, wasn't it?"
"Yes, but it doesn't matter." Will drew a deep breath and slowly released it. "The girl's father had sent him. He took the boy—because in his eyes he still was one— he took him aside and explained to him in great detail how inappropriate it was for a young woman of your…her pedigree to debase herself by associating with a common laborer. From that day on, the young man was forbidden to seek her out, to use her Christian name, to even speak with her except on authorized occasions and then only when chaperoned." Will spoke in a moderately accurate imitation of the then, Lieutenant Norrington's clipped enunciation.
"I never knew." She raised her head to stare into the unfathomable depths of Will's chocolate colored eyes. She could see there that what he said was the truth, but on some level she had always known that. Elizabeth softly kissed his lips. "I could have done something."
"No, you couldn't have." Will kissed her one more time and then encouraged her to settle back into her previous position. "It was the next day that the boy cut that hole in the wall that would eventually become a window. Every morning when he got up and every night before he went to bed, he would stare out the window at the mansion and wonder if she ever thought of him. He knew that what the Lieutenant had said was true. He wasn't that oblivious to the way things worked. What he didn't know was that his feelings for her would continue to grow, even though they were apart, or how painful it would be to try and accept the fact that she would never be his. There were nights when he could barely sleep at all because he couldn't stop thinking about her. When he did sleep, she was always in his dreams."
"And exactly what did these dreams involve?" Elizabeth nipped at Will's shoulder.
"Just the usual: picking wildflowers, strolling through the gardens, walking barefoot on the beach. Those kinds of things," Will said in all seriousness.
Elizabeth began to laugh. "Will Turner, you are such a liar!"
The ropes holding the mattress groaned in protest when Will flipped over on his back, dragging Elizabeth on top of him. He put one hand on either side of her head and lifted his face to hers. "It's all true, I swear." Elizabeth's unbound hair shrouded Will's face as their lips met. "Although I might have left out some details about those dreams," he admitted, his voice gaining the husky quality it did when his thoughts turned to things of a more intimate nature.
"Somehow I thought you had." Elizabeth lifted her head and smiled down at him. "You weren't disappointed with the reality were you?"
Will ran his hands down to the small of her back and held them there. "You are everything I dreamed of and more. Every night, I would look out that window and say, 'I love you, Elizabeth.' I just never believed that I would ever be able to say it to your face, much less hear you say it in return."
Elizabeth brushed his hair out of his face then set about making herself comfortable, amidst more ominous protestations from the ropes. It never ceased to amaze her how well their bodies fit together. She was sure that no one could ever make her stop believing that God had made them for each other. How else could they have overcome so much to be together?
"Once upon a time," she began once she had found a comfortable position with her upper body lying partway across Will's chest, her hip resting on the increasingly uncomfortable mattress and their legs twined together.
"Oh, so it's my turn for a story now?" Will began playing with her hair.
"Yes, and you know the rules about interrupting, so be quiet," she ordered, knowing he would pay as little attention to her request as she had to his. "There was a little girl whose mother had died. Her father was so grief stricken that he felt he could no longer live in the same house; so the two of them packed up everything they owned and sailed to Port Royal."
"Don't forget that they picked up an extra passenger along the way," Will added.
"Don't jump ahead!"
"If you insist."
"Where was I? Oh! The girl didn't mind moving so far from her home because she craved adventure, and surely there was more to be had in the Caribbean than in stuffy old London."
"I rather missed London at first," Will commented.
"Hush," Elizabeth ordered, thumping him lightly on the chest to reinforce her mandate. "The little girl wanted— almost more than anything—to meet a real pirate on their journey."
"But she didn't."
"Yes, she did or rather, she thought she did. Not too terribly far into the voyage they rescued a pirate boy or at least, she believed he was a pirate. He had a real pirate medallion and she did see a pirate ship through the fog. But as you said earlier, that is another story."
"Do go on." Will stopped playing with her hair and redirected his attention to running his fingers up and down her back.
"The girl and the boy developed an…attachment, shall we say, while they were aboard the ship. It continued to grow once they arrived in Port Royal. The girl did have other female friends, but she preferred to spend time with her pirate boy."
"And why is that?"
"Do I need to remind you about interrupting?" Elizabeth giggled. "She liked being with him because he was kind and clever, he made her laugh, and because he allowed her to be who she wanted. Everyone else expected her to be a proper young lady and learn to embroider and dance and all sorts of useless things, but not him. When she was with him she could say what she thought or do what she wanted. He always allowed her something that no one else did—freedom. Because of that, she decided that one day, she would marry him."
"It didn't bother him that she was sometimes less than lady-like?"
"He apparently didn't mind too much because he continued to visit no matter how much she bossed him around," she said matter-of-factly.
"I think she still does sometimes," Will said, completely deadpan. He then picked his head up enough to kiss the top of Elizabeth's hair, so she would know he was merely teasing.
"I've never heard him complain," she shot back as she slid one hand to his waist to tickle him.
Will, without thinking, retreated from Elizabeth's attack, resulting in them nearly sliding off the edge of the bed. Elizabeth's face turned red with stifled laughter.
"I will make you pay for that!" Will muttered, working with Elizabeth to rearrange themselves in the inconsiderable space they occupied. The ever increasing complaints from the bed frame inspired them to use extreme caution.
"Do you promise?" Elizabeth asked flirtatiously.
Will said nothing, but raised one eyebrow and blessed his wife with a salacious smirk.
"You almost made me lose my place in my story." She paused to reorganize her thoughts. "Yes. The pair continued to grow closer as the years passed. Then one day, not too long before her sixteenth birthday, the girl's father—or the young lady's father I should say now—gave her permission to choose her own escort to the Winter Ball. She never thought twice about who she wanted him to be.
"What did her father think of her choice?" Will knew exactly what Weatherby Swann had thought of him at the time. It hadn't improved much over the intervening years but he had finally relented and given them permission to marry. Will would always be grateful to him for that.
"He didn't know at first. I think he was under the impression that she would choose one of the younger naval officers. She never guessed that her father would disapprove so much that he would forbid her young man from attending. She spent days dreaming about him. She imagined what it would feel like to have him hold her while they danced." Elizabeth paused to consider if she wanted to tell him the rest of what she had done or not. "She also plotted on how to coax him into kissing her, she wanted so much to know what it would feel like."
"I'm assuming that she believed that he would agree to this?" Will changed tacks and started drawing circles on her back with his fingers.
"Of course! She also planned to tell him that she loved him." Elizabeth's voice cracked.
Will knew instinctively that if he could see her eyes, they would be flooded with tears left over from all those years of regret. Will took several deep breaths and slowly exhaled. "But he never showed, did he?"
"No," she choked out, so softly that even Will could barely hear her. "She waited for him." Elizabeth sniffled as she continued to hold in her tears. "She waited for him all night. He never came. He never sent word. He never…"
Will kissed Elizabeth's temple. "I'm sorry. I wanted to tell you why, but… Do you understand now?"
Elizabeth nodded, her hair tickling Will's chin and throat. She sighed in resignation and continued her story. "The girl was hurt and confused. She cried for days, but there was no one to console her. Her father was too busy with matters of state to notice her distress. Her governess, who had never liked the boy anyway, kept reminding the girl about how many times she had been warned that no good would ever come from knowing him." Elizabeth subconsciously eased her hand over Will's heart. She had not realized it, but it was a habit she had formed when she needed reassurance. "Every night the girl would stand out on her balcony and watch the lights from the town below. She wasn't sure exactly where the smithy was located—it wasn't a place she was allowed to visit—but she still looked every night and thought about the young man who had broken her heart. "
"I didn't know," Will said quietly.
"Shh, let me finish." She lighted kissed his chest. "When she turned sixteen, her father decided she was mature enough to no longer need a governess and would instead have her own maid."
"Estrella?"
"Yes, Estrella. I was still sulking when she first came into my service. I'm afraid I was overly cruel and inconsiderate to her, but soon I realized that she was the perfect person to keep me informed about your whereabouts and such."
"You spied on me?" Will laughed disbelievingly.
"I prefer to remember it as strategic planning so I could coincidentally be where you were. It would make me so angry that you wouldn't call me by name or tease me like you once had." Her voice held an odd quality, somewhere between defensive and full of pride for her plan.
"Elizabeth, I…"
"I know now that you couldn't," she said, interrupting Will's unnecessary apology. "But it's all behind us now, and every time I see that window, I'll be reminded that you never stopped thinking of me."
"I still wish I could make it up to you."
Elizabeth saw her opening and took it. "Now that you mention it…"
"Mention what? Have I just committed myself to something I would rather not do?"
"You're whining much like your son does." Elizabeth couldn't resist the chance to needle him, knowing it would increase her chances to agree to what she was about to ask, just to prove she was wrong.
"Just tell me," he surrendered.
"I'm not entirely sure I should," Elizabeth said coquettishly.
"And exactly why not?" Will brushed his fingers along Elizabeth's spine, causing her to shudder involuntarily.
"What if you disappoint me again?" she pretended to pout.
"I would never knowingly do that," he answered, his indignation not entirely in jest.
Elizabeth sensed the vague undertone of hurt in his voice. "I know," she said apologetically, snuggling closer to him. "Some part of me has always known that. I think I even knew that when you didn't show up at the Ball that night."
"Don't forget that, please? Now what is it that you would like me to do as far as making reparations even if it wasn't within my control to do any differently?"
"The Governor's Ball?" she asked sheepishly.
"Is that all? I knew from our very first moment together that balls and other similarly stuffy events were part of the price I had to pay to be with you. To paraphrase Tia Dalma 'for what you want most...' When is this accursed event?" Will knew that no matter how distasteful he found the idea, that there was no legitimate way around it. He also knew, without Elizabeth having to tell him, that it was time that he let it be known that he was back, and he was staying.
"Six weeks?" She answered timidly, but teasingly.
Will lay completely still for a few moments. "I'm almost embarrassed to ask this, but will you teach me how to dance…again? I'm afraid my memory for such things is somewhat short term."
Elizabeth raised herself up on one elbow and smiled at Will. "Of course, I will." She touched noses with him then looked up at what she now thought of as her window. "I think the rain has stopped, or at least slacked up enough for us to make a run for it. It's getting late."
"I'm sure you're right. They're probably wondering where we've been and what we've been doing all day." Will sat up, swung his legs over the edge of the mattress and stood up.
"We'll just tell them the truth," Elizabeth commented as she too sat up amidst a sigh of relief from the ropes.
"Excuse me?" Will turned to look at her with a horrified expression on his face.
"Not the…details…just that we got caught by the rain. That is the truth." She stood up and began to retrieve her still damp articles of clothing.
Will fastened his breeches and began looking for his shirt. He stopped, just as he was about to pull it over his head, and looked towards the tangled sheets covering the bed. "Do you think we should…" he asked, nodding towards the mess.
"Umm, no. Mercedes will take care of it the next time they come to straighten things up or clean or whatever it is she and Evan do here." Elizabeth ran her fingers through her hair in an effort to make it more presentable.
"Won't she wonder what happened in here?" Will ventured.
"Knowing Mercedes she knew what we were going to do today before we did. I've learned not to worry about it." Elizabeth sat back on the bed to pull on her stockings and put on her shoes, trying her best not to soil them with mud.
"That might take me a while." Will tied his hair back in its customary queue. "Speaking of Mercedes, what exactly is going on with her and Evan?"
"Mercedes and Evan?" Elizabeth looked at Will as if he had lost his mind. "They practically grew up together. They're just friends, I'm sure."
As were we. Will shrugged his shoulders and offered his hand to Elizabeth. "Mrs. Turner, shall we make our way home?"