Three

- If it doesn't fit the rational world, it doesn't exist. Right? -

Mornings were always Will's favorite time of the day. As it was his wont since he learned the skill, he got up just before dawn for his daily three hours' fencing practice. Down in the small vegetable and flower garden they kept, among the flowering shrubs and benches, he lunged and parried imaginary foes, moving about the circular stone path with a surety of the feet and an agility of the body. He loved fencing – the actions and the need to fully concentrate helped to clear his mind. It invigorated him and put him in a better frame of perspective to face the new day.

By the time he finished, the household would be up, as well as the rest of Port Royal. Elizabeth would be dressing for the day while he set about making himself presentable for breakfast with his father-in-law.

"Good morning, love." He bent down to kiss Elizabeth on her lips while she sat at her dresser. "God, you look beautiful today."

Elizabeth gifted him with a radiant smile. "You say that even when I look terrible."

"But you are beautiful," he grinned.

"Go change." She gave him a playful shove. "You stink."

"Yes, m'am." Will saluted. He ducked out of their bedroom just before the powder puff could hit him.

Still grinning, he went to the bathroom where a bath was already drawn and waiting for him. He dismissed the manservant, more comfortable with handling his bath himself.

Despite being 'elevated' to the upper class through marriage, Will remained a simple craftsman at heart. He felt uncomfortable being waited upon by servants he had more in common with than he did with those of the upper class. Although Governor Swann constantly insisted he change his behavior to suit his new social status, Will was unwilling to give up his independence in his habits. Growing up as an orphan had quickly taught him independency and self-sufficiency in order to survive – both hard lessons to forget.

When he was done, a proper young gentleman stood in the master bedroom, shaved, immaculately cleaned and groomed. He wore a tailored suit that felt rather confining, a starched white cravat that felt more like a noose (was this feeling similar to Elizabeth's corset?) and highly uncomfortable heeled shoes that were supposedly the current fashion in London.

Checking his reflection in the mirror, Will combed and tied his wavy dark brown hair back with a black silk ribbon. He, however, adamantly refused to don a wig.

He would never wear a wig.

It was a sore point between him and his father-in-law, but other than that, their relationship was reasonable. Will understood that Governor Swann loved his daughter and really had nothing against the blacksmith personally. But Governor Swann just could not understand how and why his daughter could fall in love with a simple blacksmith instead of a commodore who was a far better match in every way.

It was the kind of question that sparked off plenty of gossips, romantic or otherwise, in Port Royal. Elizabeth couldn't give a damn (she said it, he didn't) and Will, well, he ignored the rumormongers like he always did. They were in love with each other and happy, that was all that mattered.

Besides, Elizabeth liked to see him without the wig, for the same reason he liked to see her without the corset.

Will abruptly gave his head a good shake. That last thought sounded something like Jack would say. Bloody pirate was rubbing off on him.

…but a good man…

Will's head jerked up startled. He automatically turned around, scanning his bedroom. He was alone in his bedroom, as he knew it to be. But he swore he heard a voice just now. His hackles rose. For some reason, he didn't feel as though he was alone.

Uneasy and quite puzzled, trying to shake off the strange feeling, Will slowly turned back to the mirror.

A stranger stared back at him.

It was his reflection, yet it wasn't. The same face stared back at him but the eyes were too old and knowing to match the startled fear that had suddenly seized him.

Will rubbed his eyes and looked again. His disbelieving face stared back at him. Warily, he leaned closer to the mirror.

It was definitely his face this time.

He stepped away from the mirror, out of its field, relieved but completely unnerved. "Just a trick of the light," he said aloud. But his voice sounded unconvinced to his ears.

Most definitely a trick of the light, he thought more firmly. Thus assured, he hastened out of his bedroom, feeling a sudden desire for the company of others.

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