And I return to you, friends, with the next chapter. In this one we see Will and Elizabeth's first playtime together... And some tidbits of Will/Elizabeth goodness stuff. It gets stronger in the next chapters, I promise, because they're getting older. But you'll see.

Disclaimer: You see these ownership papers for PoTC? THEY'RE NOT REAL!!!!!

The very next Monday, I arrived at the front door of the Swann Mansion wearing my best, cleanest clothes. Ms. Smith had taught me how to wash clothes when I was first introduced to her, so I hardly had any trouble. She, however, assumed I did, being a child and whatnot. I was not like most children, though. Where other children were seemingly fickle and lazy, I sought fidelity and work in what I did.

I knocked on the bronze, lion-shaped knockers, trying not to be scared of them.

A maid opened the front door. "Hello," she said, in a Cockney accent. "You must be William Turner, here to play with Ms. Swann, I presume?"

Instantly, Ms. Smith's lecture prior to sending me off popped into my mind: "She's a lady, Will, a lady. A very dignified lady at that. You'd best treat her with all the respect you've got in you. Not that you've got to fear the poor lass, just know your place. And do be friendly. Make her feel like a queen, Will," she said, winking. "All women love to be treated like queens."

I gulped, and nodded.

The maid held the door open for me. "Come inside. I'm Magdalene, by the way."

I walked inside, seeing it for the first time. It was the most magnificent place I'd ever set foot in, clad with Persian rugs, and antique chandeliers, the wall was decorated with light coats of paint and beautiful paintings, and the furniture looked so soft and comfortable, it seemed as though one might float on air if to sit on a sofa. Yet, I knew better than to even look desiringly at them. I instead chose to stand and admire.

"I'll show you to Ms. Swann's room, Mr. Turner."

She led me up the stairs, through the narrow, thickly carpeted corridor, into a corner where there stood one white wooden door.

"This would be the young Ms. Swann's quarters, Mr. Turner. Do enjoy yourself." Magdalene knocked on the door once for me before turning around and leaving.

"Come in," her voice called.

The sound of The Angel. I sighed, exhaling long and hard, before pushing the door open. I walked in, noticing once more the carpeting of the room, and stared at the floor as I shut it and stood in place. "Hello," I said, eyes fixed.

"Will Turner?" she asked, sounding delighted. "Is that you?"

I looked up, just to see her, mumbling a, "Yes." It was, however, to my horror (and somewhat pleasure) that she was in her bedclothes. Never having seen a woman in her bedclothes before (my mother slept in the nude), I did the natural.

I screamed. "AAAAAAH!" I covered my eyes and backed up against the door. "AAAH! I'M SORRY! I'M SORRY, MS. SWANN! AAAAAAAH!" I opened the door, left, and shut it, panting with my back pressed up against it.

It was almost suddenly that I felt it open behind me, and I fell rather awkwardly to the ground. Ms. Swann was standing there, in her nightclothes, smiling rather happily.

"Will," she said, her cheery mood ever present. "Why did you do that?"

"Ms. Swann, I-I-" I was at a lack of speech, so I merely gestured to her body, turning my head away as I did so.

"You mean my- my nightgown?" she asked, still smiling. "Will, have you never seen a woman in her bedclothes before?"

I shook my head, eyes squinted shut.

"Open your eyes," she said. "It's quite normal, really. I assure you, my father sees me like this all the time."

I am most certainly not your father, I thought, but I did not feel the need to tell her this. She was, after all, the one in charge, and if she believed it was all right for me to view her in her robes, then so be it. I opened my eyes.

It actually was not that bad. She was wearing a white short sleeved gown, not much different frm her everyday dresses, but with matters of comfort and simplicity attended to. She also wore some sort of a robe over it, perhaps to keep warm.

"See?" she asked. "Now, come inside. Father says you want to play with me." She looked absolutely thrilled at the prospect, and although I had not been the one to make the offer of the circumstance, the statement was techinically true.

I walked back inside her room hesitantly, still unsure of the matter of her dress, and stood as she sat down on a chair next to a tiny teatable.

"Come," she said, gesturing to the chair placed across from her. "Sit."

I walked over to the chair and sat down. "Ms. Swann, if I may ask, but what is it you do? All day?" I had imagined her to be a princess of sorts, one that participates in activities far from my comprehension.

She sighed. "All day I do nothing."

Nothing? I was hesitant with my reply. "But surely you- you must do something?"

"I take lessons, if that's what you mean," she said, sounding bored. "I take Arithmetic, and social science. I learn how to ride a horse, and how to play the piano. I have two cats, a dog, three geese and a horse."

My eyes widened. The only collision of our daily activities was Arithmetic. "You can play the piano?"

"Yes," she said, then her face lit up. "Would like to learn how? Shall I teach you?"

"All right," I said, wanting to make her happy the way I hoped I was doing.

She grabbed my hand and began to lead me out of the room when she suddenly stopped midway. "Oh, no," she said, making a face. "Father won't let me into the drawing room till I've dressed. Would you mind terribly waiting while I call Maggie to dress me?"

I instantly tensed up, eyes widening with fear. "You're going to undress? Here?"

"No, of course not," she said, reassuring me into relief. "I'm going to undress in that corner. Behind that curtain."

I stared at the flimsy white curtain, tensing up once more. "All right, Ms. Swann," I squeaked.

"MAGGIE!" she called. "MAGGIE! WOULD YOU PLEASE HELP ME GET DRESSED?"

The maid called Magdalene came inside nearly at once and asked Ms. Swann what she would like to wear.

"I don't really mind," Ms. Swann replied. "Whatever's okay..."

"What about this one, Ms. Swann?" Magdalene asked, holding up a blue dress with flowers at the neck. "Your father thought you might like to wear it when the Ambassador comes to tea."

"All right," Ms. Swann replied, but I could see her rolling her eyes underneath it.

The two walked behind a curtain, Magdalene holding many layers of white chemises and stockings, the frock, and a pair of shoes. I stood uncomfortably in a corner, not quite sure what to expect. Getting dressed for Ms. Smith and myself was always very simple and quick, never taking more than two full minutes. But when Ms. Swann dressed, she seemed to take what felt like an age, possibly to do with all the different layers of cloth the maid Magdalene had been holding.

And yet, when she emerged from behind the curtain, my breath seemed to catch in my throat, and I could feel my pulse quicken. She was the angel I had seen on the very first day I saw her, beautiful and so enrapturing to me that I could not see anything beyond her. I didn't understand this reaction that I had to her, and her smile, and everything about her. But then she began to speak and it was affecting me the same way, and yet differently.

"Do you like the dress, Will? My father just bought it." She spun around.

"I-I like it very much, Ms. Swann," I said truthfully. "It looks very nice."

Magdalene shot me a knowing glance.

She wrinkled her nose. "I don't like to wear dresses very much, but they make me all the time. Come, let's go down to the drawing room. I'll teach you how to play the piano!"

She once again grabbed me by the hand, and led me down her magnificent mahogany stairs into a room with large windows and a piano. She sat at the bench in front of the instrument, sitting me down next to her.

She pointed to a note. "This note is C," she said. "It's middle C. It's kind of like the center of all of it." She hit the key. "You try."

I hit the key.

"Very good." She went on to further explain all the various notes, their positions, and hit all of them and asked me to do so as well. I listened to her intently, taking in every last word she said, absorbing everything.

"My teacher taught me how to play 'Mary Had A Little Lamb'. Would you like me to show you?"

"Yes, please."

"Okay!" Then she began to play an unfamiliar tune, a song I'd never heard in my life.

"What is that?" I asked.

"It's a nursery rhyme, silly!" she exclaimed.

"What's a nursery rhyme?" I felt stupid already standing next to her, but the progression of our conversation was not helping with this.

She looked at me strangely. "You don't know what a nursery rhyme is?"

I shook my head.

"You never heard one? In school or anything?"

I shook my head once more, feeling further and further embarassed by the second.

She looked at me strangely, just for a moment, and I prayed to the Heavens above she would not question why I had never learned. I suddenly understood what my mother had meant when she told me she had wanted to "spare my ears the complications" for it was just what I was feeling now. I did not want to divulge to the lovely Ms. Swann that my past was that of a grotesque orphan, son of an abandoning merchant.

I was blessed, for Ms. Swann was apparently a very observant child. She merely studied me for a minute, and although I believe she sensed something further to the story, she did not press the matter. "Why don't I teach you some of them? They're nice songs, honestly. Then I can teach you on the piano!"

I merely nodded my head once more as she led me into yet another room, where she had picture books filled with nursery rhymes that she taught me. I heard "Jack and Jill" "The Fiddler and The Moon" and "Mary Had A Little Lamb" for the first time.

When Ms. Smith came to fetch me, I was surprised that I had no desire whatsoever to leave. Ms. Swann, too, looked disappointed, and asked when I would be returning.

"Perhaps soon," I said.

And that was the way we ended all our childhood visits for the next one or two years.

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