Title: The Sea Nymph

Author: Rosie Rosen

Summary: Margaret Turner is obsessed with pirates. She loves her Uncle George's stories about Captain Jack Sparrow and his crew of miscreants. But that was ten years ago. Now, she couldn't care less about the old sea dog and is more interested in being a lady of high society. What happens when she has to find her Uncle George to save her parents… and is sent in the direction of the pirate village of Tortuga?

Chapter: Chapter Four; A Disappointing Letter

Rating: PG

Disclaimer: Disney owns Pirates of the Caribbean and all its affiliates. I own Margaret Turner, Miss Bella, the Sea Nymph, and the plot. Plagiarists, ye be warned.

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The envelope lay unnoticed on Margaret's nightstand as she dressed for breakfast. She laced up her overdress and reached for her brush. After a few minutes of frantic groping around her vanity, she remembered it had been taken away and picked up a small comb instead. Angrily tugging the comb through her hair, Margaret decided it wouldn't do. She would have to get her things back.

She opened her door and looked up and down the corridor. She saw Miss Bella's skirts disappear around a corner and took her chance. Miss Bella's room, right across from Margaret's own, was just smaller than Margaret's. It had a larger vanity table, but the bed, clad in pale red bedclothes, was not as fancy. Margaret took a quick glance at the door before opening the drawer of the vanity.

It was filled with different pots of powders and rouges, combs and brushes, tiny mirrors, bigger mirrors, and jewelry. Margaret saw the familiar design of her silver brush and grabbed it. But a thorough search didn't find her hand mirror. She checked again, and was looking through the things on top of the table for a third time when she heard someone coming down the hall.

Frenziedly, she stuffed her brush in a pocket and shut the table drawer. Miss Bella pushed open the door, freezing when she saw Margaret standing in the middle of the room.

"What do you think you're doing?" Miss Bella hissed. She towered over Margaret menacingly. Margaret trembled and opened her mouth to explain. Nothing came out. Miss Bella, looking as if she might explode, raised her hand to hit the girl. Margaret closed her eyes tightly and held her breath.

"Miss," wavered a timid voice. Miss Bella whirled around hastily, putting her arm down. A maid stood shyly in the doorway. "Mistress Turner requests your and Margaret's presence at breakfast." Margaret let out her breath in a sigh of relief. Miss Bella picked up her skirts and swept grandly from the room, obviously incensed. She stormed down the stairs, with Margaret following warily behind, constantly poking at the brush in her pocket to make sure her governess would not notice it.

** * **

William-George gripped his new toy, the ragged pirate-rabbit. With his other hand, he picked up a biscuit and shoved it in his mouth, crumbs scattering everywhere. Elizabeth glanced at her son and smiled. She wiped his mouth of the crumbs and handed him a piece of sausage. Her husband stood up as Miss Bella and Margaret walked into the room.

"What took you?" Elizabeth said, amusement in her voice. She rarely was angry with her children, though Margaret often saw her being furiously stubborn with other adults. Margaret and Miss Bella sat at their respective places at the table.

"Nothing, Mother, just woke up late." Margaret took a bite of toast and filled her glass with milk. She knew her mother would understand that. Elizabeth liked to sleep in until the latest possible moment. As she suspected, her mother smiled and nodded at the response.

"Heaw, Maw'gwet…" William-George held out his half-eaten sausage. "Heaw." Margaret took the meat from her little brother good-naturedly.

"Why, thank you, Willy," she remarked. She noticed the rabbit plaything in his hand. "Mother, where did William-George get that?" Elizabeth touched the toy and an odd look came over her face. Margaret's father spoke up,

"You didn't find the letter?" He took his similar envelope out of his coat pocket. Margaret tilted her head, puzzled. "It's on your nightstand. Your- we had a visitor last night." Margaret's eyes widened.

"A… visitor?" She sprang up from the table. "Excuse me!" Margaret ran upstairs to her room, seeing the envelope next to her bed for the first time. She grabbed it covetously and looked around. She couldn't open it here. If it was from who she thought it was from… She had to go somewhere else, in case Miss Bella came in.

Margaret scurried outside, into the one part of her mother's garden that overlooked the sea. Elizabeth Turner sat there often, on a wrought iron bench facing the ocean that Will had made her for one of her birthdays. Sometimes, Margaret and Elizabeth would curl up on it together, Elizabeth watching the water and Margaret watching Elizabeth.

There was something about her mother that Margaret just couldn't figure out. At that, there was something in her father, too. They just seemed to be keeping something from her. Something about the sea. Margaret used to fantasize it was pirates, when she was little. Now, she thought it was maybe something a little more morbid. Maybe Elizabeth's mother had died in a tragic drowning, or she had had a big brother or sister that died in the water. After all, there was a period of time after Elizabeth and Will's marriage that Margaret knew nothing of. They hadn't had babies right away, the way the other married men and women did in Port Royal. So it was entirely probable that something dramatic had happened.

Margaret sat down on the bench, staring at the sheathed message hungrily. She didn't want to open it and be disappointed because it wasn't from her uncle. But if it was…

She finally tore it open and pulled out the letter. Without looking at the words, she glanced to the bottom and saw the flourished signature "Uncle Georgie." Margaret sighed happily and started reading what he'd written her.

Dear Maggie,

Margaret winced. She hadn't let anyone call her Maggie in nearly two years. It was so childish. But Uncle George wouldn't have known that.

I'm sorry I could not staye longer, just the nite. ["But he didn't stay the night," Margaret said quietly to herself, "He just dropped the letter off and left."] Ye unnerstand, I'm a verry busy merchent. Still got the brush an mirror I gave ye? I'm still lookin fer the perfect present for a girl yer age. Thats why I did not bring anyfing for ye this time. Sorry.

Margaret paused, noticing for the first time that he hadn't brought her anything, now that it was pointed out. He'd brought something for William-George, though…

I'm glad yer parents named the little boy after me, if they did as they said they woulde. Liddle George. Hope he likes the rabit I made. When he's old enuff, tell yer father to put the rabit's gold earing into yer brother's ear. So he'll look like me. Any way, my crew needs me. Next time, I'll tell you the story of how Captain Jack Sparrow got The Black Pearl in the first place.

Luv,

Uncle Georgie

She reread it once, then again. Then once more, for good measure. It didn't appease her at all. Her uncle should have talked to her, not tried to explain anything in a letter full of painful spelling. He was more interested in her brother than her, apparently. Margaret crumpled the letter up and threw it as hard as she could, trying to make it land in the water and falling short hundreds of feet.

Her uncle was just as bad as anyone said. His spelling proved Miss Bella's point; that he wasn't quite the Turner he should be. How could he be in her house and not even say hello?! Disappearing for three years and then returning only to be ghostly and disappear again! Margaret felt tears coming, and choked them back. How could he…?

Margaret tried to console herself. He was busy. In danger. He had a shipment he had agreed to give to someone by a certain date or they'd kill him. She suddenly wished she hadn't thrown his letter, and ran after it, tearing her dress on the plants and tripping when it became steep. Dirty and disheveled, she found the wrinkled ball of paper and held it close, trying to flatten it. Margaret slipped it into the pocket with the silver brush. She would catch hell about her appearance from Miss Bella, but, she decided, it was worth it.

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Author's Note: No, I'm not happy about the way this ended… *pout* But… there's a sunny side to every situation, as I've learned from my Forty-Second Street soundtrack!