CHAPTER 29: An Issue Of Trust

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It was not long before the coach reached the locked gates of the admiral's estate. A guard stood near the gate, brandishing a musket with a bayonet on its end. Beckett climbed out of the coach, again paying the driver. As he handed over the money, he heard a voice behind him.

"What do you think you're doing?" the harsh voice asked. "This is private property."

Beckett turned around, a hint of an irritated scowl on his face.

"I am the brother of Mrs. Julia Morgan," Beckett said, voice wrought with disdain.

"So?"

"As Mrs. Morgan's brother, I have a relationship with her that grants me access to her home."

"Says who?" the guard remarked, smirking. "Are you drunk, man? You smell like rum."

By this point the coach driver was getting antsy.

"You can leave, thank you," Beckett told him dismissively. "It appears that this guard would very much like some sort of promotion for his lengthy questioning of visitors."

"Are you sure, Sir?"

"Yes. You've more important things to attend to than watching this inane banter."

The coach driver went on his way, leaving Beckett standing in front of the gate, the guard not budging from his post.

"Your relationship does not grant you access. I am the one with that responsibility, Mister—"

"Beckett."

"Beckett—as in Cutler Beckett?" the guard replied, his eyes narrowed sinisterly. Cutler had a feeling this was not going to go well.

"Yes."

The guard took a deep breath, glaring at Beckett.

"My brother, God rest 'is soul, was on that bloody Endeavour of yours when you sank it, you incompetent arse!" Growling, he pointed the bayonet at Beckett, thrusting it so close to the shorter man that Beckett had to take a step back to stay out of harm's way. Beckett could only stare at the house, so near and yet so far, annoyed to have to allow a commoner to harangue him so. In his tenure as lord of the East India Trading Company he could have sent this guard to the gallows for his words. Now he was forced to listen to this dissention, unable to do anything about it. Even so, he kept his irritation over the situation hidden.

"I did not sink the Endeavour," Beckett replied matter-of-factly, expression remaining impassive. "That is the fault of the Flying Dutchman and the Black Pearl."

"No, you sank your ship. You could've obliterated those little heaps o' wood. All you had to do was give a simple order—say a simple bloody word—"Fire!" Instead, you just stood there like a statue and watched my brother—your whole bloody crew— get blown to pieces."

Beckett looked thoughtful for a moment.

"If they all died, as you say, how is it that you know what happened?"

The guard fell silent, flashing Beckett a look of confusion. As he gloated over his win in the battle of wits, Beckett saw someone walking, a movement near the house on the other side of the gate, but kept his eyes on the guard. The long distance of the gate from the house made it difficult to identify the person. He saw with his peripheral vision a full skirt distinguishing the person as a woman. Could it be Julia? Suddenly Beckett spoke up loudly.

"I demand that you let me, Cutler Beckett, into this gate to speak with my sister."

The woman near the house stopped in place, looking towards the gate.

"I request an audience with Julia Morgan," Beckett stated loudly and clearly, watching the woman begin to move towards the gate.

"You already said that—I'm not deaf, you know," the guard replied. "Well, I request that you bring my brother back to life, and only then can you come in an' see your sibling. You should be in a pine box right about now for the murder of all those innocent—"

"I think you'll have to take that one up with the captain of the Flying Dutchman," Beckett replied with a pompous half-smile. He had won.

"Cutler, is that you?" came a voice on the other side of the gate. Julia Morgan stood in a beautiful blue gown, hair pulled up under a ravishing hat, moving into view of her brother. As she strode towards him, he noticed a rather large bruise on her neck, shielded partially by a couple of curled tendrils of hair that had fallen out of her hat.

"Julia," Beckett replied, relief on his features. He flashed the guard a rather evil albeit brief smirk as Julia pulled open the gates from the other side, allowing him entrance into the estate grounds.

"I've word from the Royal Navy that you've greatly aided us in ridding the water of pirates," she remarked, a smile on her face. "So the infamous Black Pearl is docked in Southampton's harbor?"

"Yes," Beckett said with a suddenly shy smile, his head down and hands clasped behind his back. He kicked at a dirt clod on the ground, lifting his head to smile at his sister.

"And you've captured the co-captains of the Black Pearl, who are currently imprisoned on the Intrepid?"

"Yes," he again answered, beaming proudly at her. Though she was happy for her brother, they did not have a close enough relationship to elicit a congratulatory hug. She simply wrung her hands, slapping them on her skirts.

"How wonderful!" she exclaimed. "Thomas—eh, Admiral Morgan—will be very pleased to hear of this development! I'm sure you're raring to tell him the good news!"

"Yes."

"Have you nothing more to say than 'yes'?" she asked, grinning at him as he began to follow her onto the estate grounds.

"Yes."

"Ha! A bad question, wasn't it?"

"Yes."

She began to laugh, feeling a sense of relief wash over her. So Cutler is not a pirate sympathizer, thank God. He's certainly redeemed himself by using his knowledge of the pirate's whereabouts to find and capture them. Thomas's job has just been made a lot easier by my brother's actions—I only hope he appreciates it.


Soon, brother and sister made it to the front door of the massive home of the admiral. Beckett peered up at the building, which was a full three stories high, a sturdy square constructed of blocks of what appeared to be granite. The windows of this home were enormous, easily eight feet tall on the ground floor, and were made of the cleanest plate glass. Though Hampton House was once the dwelling of General Beckett, the admiral's estate nearly doubled it in size. This increased wealth for the admiral of the Royal Navy made sense, what with England being an island nation and the admiral having to head a rather massive navy in order to protect and defend it.

A butler greeted them at the door, eyeing Cutler as he held open the door for the siblings to enter. As Beckett's eyes adjusted to the dim light in the house, he saw two children bounding about the halls, yelling and laughing as the girl gave chase to the boy. The rugs on the polished marble floor were a beautiful crimson decorated with paisley designs, illuminated by the polished gold sconces on the wall. A large gold chandelier full of lit candles hung in the foyer, free of any kind of dust or cobweb. The house was impeccable and far more luxurious than Hampton House.

"William! Kitty!" Julia suddenly exclaimed. Both children froze in place, turning their heads to look at their mother, who stood next to a strange man.

"Children, this is your Uncle Cutler," she told them, touching her brother momentarily on the arm. He was unaccustomed to such an exchange with his sister and stood with his hands clasped in front of him, holding the buttonless coat together.

"Hello," Kitty said, face twisted in confusion. So this was her long-lost uncle, the one her mother had desecrated for years. He didn't look like such a horrible person. She had certainly not expected him to look the way he did. Her uncle was rather short, his dark blond hair pulled back with a tie, and a boyishly round face with no facial hair, and with the same blue eyes as her mother. He stood with an air of propriety in a coat that had appeared to have lost all of its buttons, keeping his face in a tight-lipped smile of impatience.

"William, are you not going to greet your uncle?" Julia requested, leaning towards her youngest child.

"Hello, Uncle Cutler," the boy muttered.

"Hello, William and Kitty," Cutler said softly but regally. "It's a pleasure to finally meet you." He couldn't help but think of Elizabeth and her son at this time, the son he could have raised as his own. The infant he hadn't even been able to hold or touch. The thought saddened him.

"There are two others running around here someplace, Thomas and John," Julia cut in. "I'm sure you'll get to see them today as well."

He gave her a half-hearted smile. Four. Bloody hell. I can't even lay claim to one child, let alone four.

She took notice of his bland response. "By the way, have you been drinking?" she asked him in a whisper, leaning towards him.

"No. Why do you ask?" he said, feeling self-conscious. He hadn't had a brandy since he had been aboard the Endeavour, which had been at least seven months ago. So much had happened since then. He had been devastatingly defeated by the pirates and subsequently captured, rescued by Elizabeth and saved from certain death. He had endured torture at the hands of pirates and Elizabeth—and she had nursed him back to health. He had been arrested in Port Royal and had been moments from execution, saved once again by the pirates. He had traveled with the pirates to Greenland and then to the Azores, a place that held only negative memories for him. In the meantime, he had become close to Elizabeth aboard the Black Pearl, the "punishment" in the brig a turning point. However, it was in the Azores that he and Elizabeth shared their first kiss. After that point their relationship was certainly a bit more intimate.

"You smell like alcohol," she replied in a whisper, startling him.

"Odd," he replied quickly, feeling affronted and embarrassed of his being startled. He then remembered the strange map he had fished out of the chest filled with rum, and realization hit him. "Oh, it must be these clothes. Someone must've spilled something on them, because I do recall their being damp when I put them on this morning."

Julia nodded half-heartedly. Her brother's less-than-thrilled response to finally meeting his niece and nephew was troubling to Julia Morgan. It seemed as if the penitent, humble Cutler she had run across a couple of months ago was no more, replaced by a curt, arrogant man—essentially, the way he had always been. He had, of course, done her and her husband a great favour in capturing the most infamous pirates on the seven seas—or so it was rumored. The Black Pearl had arrived with a Royal Navy crew, who quickly made their rounds in Southampton, telling of the easy arrest of the totally unaware pirates sitting on their docked ship in Constantinople. It seemed Beckett had been redeemed to the Royal Navy, but his current behavior was making her uneasy.

Before another word was spoken, Julia grabbed her brother's arm and pulled him down the hall into the sitting room, a large room with mahogany paneled walls and large comfortable chairs with crimson velvet cushions. My estate in Port Royal was nothing like this, Beckett mused, allowing her to escort him. What does one have to do nowadays to live in such luxury? She shut the door behind them and moved towards the chairs arranged in a half-circle in front of a large fireplace with a pure white marble mantle, a starkly contrasting colour from the rest of the room.

"So, what did you wish to speak with me about?" Julia queried her brother, sitting down in a chair whilst beckoning for him to do the same. He sat hesitantly, discomfort obvious in his manner of moving.

"Well," he began, folding his hands over his stomach, "I wondered… how you were doing. I see that you've moved—"

"It's about Hampton House, is it not?" Julia replied, face suddenly sour. "Being as my husband will be admiral for years to come, you can live there—now that you're back to stay, of course."

"It's not about that—" he replied quickly, realizing his attempt at small talk had failed. He had not meant to bring the family estate up in such a manner.

Suddenly he thought of something he could ask his sister, being as speaking with her wasn't his original intention. She was the first woman he had spoken with since Elizabeth. The thought of Elizabeth pained him. How could he have been so stupid, to carry around that letter—to even think of using her when it was plain that they held such affection between them after such a strangely, delicately built relationship?

"Then where are you going to live?" Julia's voice suddenly cut in, interrupting his thoughts. "Don't you want to live in Hampton H—"

"I thought I did," he began, "but now I'm not so sure that I deserve to live there."

"Why do you say that?" she replied, face twisted with confusion. "I don't understand—"

"It has nothing to do with you or your husband or children. I've done something that—"

"Done what?"

The troubled expression on his face turned to that of annoyance.

"Well, if you hadn't interrupted, I could've already told you by now," he replied coldly.

She looked at him, half-fearful, half-irritated, but said nothing. He took a deep breath and began again, his forehead etched with lines Julia had not seen before.

"As I was saying, I've done… oh, sod it."

Abruptly he stood up, turning to face the door as he removed his hands from his coat, allowing the garment to open. He glanced back at his sister, shaking his head.

"I can't do this," he muttered, jaw set.

Julia stood up, greatly concerned. She moved towards him, holding onto her skirts.

"What are you talking about? Can't do what? What happened?"

"Don't suddenly pretend you care," Beckett snapped, his voice full of bitterness as he turned his head to look at her. "I realize I've no one in whom to confide—"

"You can confide in me," she replied. "I'm your sister and I—"

"And you've no reason to listen to a word I say. The fact that I've wronged everyone I've ever met makes it clear to me that my words have every reason to be used against me."

"Why the sudden self-importance?" she shot back. "Though I give you credit for helping capture the pirates and commandeer their ship, by no means are you suddenly worthy of some sort of blackmail. I offered Hampton House to you as a gift in your role in furthering my husband's career, not as some sort of prize you've acquired with some newly held high status."

"—But isn't your husband to appoint me as an officer of the—"

"Once he sees the pirates, he says it's an option," she replied, ire in her voice. "God, you are such a paranoid man. It's no wonder you've spent your life alone. You are wholly and completely unable to trust anybody, and I feel utter pity for you."

Beckett's face fell, shoulders slumped as soon as the words had left her mouth. He could do no more than stare at the floor, having heard statements just like this from Elizabeth. Julia watched this and was shocked. She gaped at him, noticing that he could no longer lift his eyes from the floor. He let out a sort of half-sigh, trudging towards the door.

"Once he sees the pirates are captured, he will then offer you a higher position in the Royal Navy. Don't worry; if you've done all that I've heard, you're guaranteed a promotion."

"It's not that," he replied demurely, walking away from her.

"You're not going anywhere," Julia suddenly said, moving between her brother and the door to bar his way.

"What are you talking about," he asked her blandly, lifting his eyes for only a moment to look at her.

"I want you to tell me what's wrong," she said, hands on hips. "Trust someone, for once in your bloody life."

Slowly he raised his head. His eyes looked glassy in the light of the fireplace. Julia was utterly baffled.

"Cutler," she said in a soft voice. She watched him intently as he stared off in the distance, unable to keep his eyes on her for more than a moment.

"I've lost someone," he murmured, voice barely louder than a whisper. "And it's my fault." He fell silent, staring again at the floor.

"You mean… they died?" she replied carefully.

"No, she is not dead. Though she now wishes me to be."

Julia Morgan remained silent so that her brother could continue. She did not want to interrupt him again, lest he become angry again and leave.

"I took advantage of her fondness for me, as inexplicable as that may sound. I won her affection after many months, and rather than enjoy it for what it was, I looked to benefit from it."

"How so?"

"That's not important," he snapped. "All that matters is that she discovered this—intention at the worst possible moment, and now I'll never see her again, deservedly so."

"Did you apologize?"

"In a way," he replied, sounding unsure.

"How? In your usual manner of speaking? Or did you put some sort of emotion into it?"

He stood as still as a statue, deep in thought, as he clasped his coat together at the front. She moved in front of the fireplace, crossing her arms as she watched him. Beckett finally spoke.

"In retrospect, I don't believe I actually uttered the words—"

"Then what do you expect?" she retorted. "When you wrong someone, you are supposed to apologize, to repent for your actions. Bloody beg them for forgiveness, if you have to! Put your dignity on the line! And though you did permit me to slap you several times the last time we met, you still did not apologize to me for our rather rocky childhood. That was as close to apologetic as I've ever seen you—and yet you still never actually said the words."

Her brother's face looked tired, eyes heavy and mouth drawn. His eyes no longer looked glassy but he certainly wasn't in any kind of good mood. She watched his shoulders rise and fall as he breathed quietly.

"I don't think I can win her affections again," he muttered under his breath, keeping his gaze on the fire in the fireplace.

"You can begin to try by apologizing to her," Julia replied, her voice strong. "It would certainly be an uncharacteristic thing for you to do, and would probably shock her to the core."

He looked at his sister, her eyes fierce as she instructed him. He badly wanted to change the subject.

"What happened to your neck?" he asked, remembering the large bruise on her neck.

"Nothing," she replied hastily, suddenly looking self-conscious as she wrung her hands.

Beckett stared at her disapprovingly, watching her intently.

"It's really nothing," she continued, rubbing her bruised neck. "There's just been so much stress lately. Thomas—he can't seem to—oh, forget it."

"No, what is it?" Beckett asked, his voice strong again.

"It's nothing. It's just—my husband's plans don't seem to be following through like he thought they would. And he's very angry about it, because if his plans would work out, he could essentially control the sea—but… well, it's nothing I can help, so I give him his privacy."

"He grabbed your neck?!"

So there had been a change in her brother. He seemed to be getting angry about this. It was interesting, watching him get protective of her.

"It—really, Cutler, it's not your concern."

"You are my sister and he has no right to commit such an atrocity. Though I have done many wrongs in my life, I would never strike—" he caught himself, remembering the encounter between himself and Elizabeth in the brig of the Pearl, "—strike a woman out of anger."

"You don't know the kind of stress he's going through, what with him unable to open the bloody—"

"I don't know his stress?" Beckett interrupted, raising his voice. "I was lord of the East India Trading Company, for God's sake," he shot. "I watched Davy Jones disobey my every command, twisting my words so that my orders were never fulfilled to my satisfaction, as every pirate on the seven seas sought to ruin me and everyone who wasn't a pirate aided them in their mission. I probably had a quarter of Port Royal hanged for largely unfounded roles in helping those heathens. I had no allies, no friends except for bloody Mercer, who only sided with me because he was paid to do so."

"Well, Thomas had this job thrown upon him at the untimely death of the former admiral—which made many of his subordinates resent him because they feel they deserved the promotion and are thus being difficult. Not only does he have to deal with those resentful bastards, but he also has to run the entire British Royal Navy—"

"Oh yes, whilst sitting in his luxurious, massive mansion atop this hill, a wife and four children to keep him company."

"It was your choice to never marry—"

"Well, it's not what I want now," he shot back hastily, obviously angry. An awkward pause followed his blurted words, and he immediately felt embarrassed.

"If you'd only let your guard down and make a fool out of yourself in apologizing to her, then you may have a fighting chance. Otherwise, I'm afraid, you're doomed to be alone forever."

His face contorted into a grimace as he realized what had happened. Damn it. The conversation has gone full circle.

"My point is, he's no reason to strike a woman, least of all, you," he remarked. "I can't imagine what you could've done to warrant such a bruise."

"Did he treat me better when he was a lieutenant? Of course. As beautiful as this place is, I don't like what he's become. Though he, as you say, has us to keep him company, he stays away all day. Sometimes I don't see him for days at a time, but those are the good days. Most days I wish we could return to our life at Hampton House, that he never found the bloody chest—"

She suddenly stopped mid-speech, covering her mouth with a hand, eyes wide. She had spoken out of place. Admiral Morgan did not wish for Beckett to know about such a thing.

"I know about the chest," Beckett coolly remarked. "I've known for months."

"You're putting me on," she replied, becoming quite pale.

"No. I am well-aware that your husband found the Dead Man's Chest but does not have the key and so he cannot open it."

"What a relief," she said, wiping her brow. "He'd kill me if he knew I told you—don't mention that I said anything, alright?"

"Of course I wouldn't do that. Do you take me for a fool?"

"Right now I do, being as your stubbornness in refusing to apologize is going to cost you an obviously important relationship with that woman—"

Beckett rolled his eyes, not trying to hide the fact from his sister. She stopped speaking abruptly, crossing her arms as she flashed him a look of disappointment. A ghost of a smile appeared on Beckett's face.

"If I were capable of steering a ship the way you are able to steer a conversation, Julia, I would have been able to outmaneuver the Black Pearl and the Flying Dutchman and escape with the Endeavour wholly intact."


I'm sorry for the Beckett-Julia focused chapter. However, Elizabeth, Admiral Morgan, Will, Bootstrap, Pintel, Ragetti, Marty, Cotton, Ayla, Joana, Jack, Julia, and Beckett are ALL in the next chapter. Here's a sneak preview of the next chapter:

"Ah ah," Jack said, raising a finger. "Th' last time I followed the remnants of me tattered conscience, I ended up in Davy Jones' locker. An' that's not a mistake I plan on repeating."