Peas in a Pod
Part the Second
by Saahira
By the time we reached Port Royal, I knew I was pregnant. Never before had the merest sight of food, nor the faintest whiff of it carried on a breeze, made my belly cramp with nausea. Never before had the ocean's gentle swaying sent me scurrying to the rail to spill my stomach down amid the waves.
All my companions being the pompous, self-righteous, self-important males that they were, assumed my illness nothing more than a weak woman's innately inferior constitution suffering the aftermath of too much fear and excitement. I fluttered and fretted and encouraged that belief. If they suspected anything more, they hid their thoughts very carefully from me.
There were no other women aboard the ~Dauntless~. I had no one to talk to about my situation, no one whose counsel I trusted.
My mind raced for solutions and found none.
I found myself yearning for Will's companionship. However, in deference to my engagement to Commodore Norrington, the man I loved kept his distance. He spent most of his time roaming the deck in Jack Sparrow's company, and on the rare occasion we did meet, he remained flawlessly polite and impeccably proper. His eyes were so sad though that I doubted I could burden him even had I the opportunity. It would hurt too much, seeing his friendship for me turn to loathing.
As for my father, I could never admit my shame to him. I was his little girl, his darling, his baby; I could not face his disappointment. The knowledge, every time I met his gaze, that he knew I had willingly given myself to a lowly, despicable criminal. Knowing I had failed him so utterly would surely be the end of me.
And then there was Jack Sparrow himself, who remained even further removed from me than did Will Turner. That he kept our secret I had no doubt; he was that much of a gentleman, at least. Or perhaps he merely feared the Commodore's wrath should my fiancé learn of our intimacy. Our eyes met on occasion, our gazes would lock and fill with memory of that night. Then one or the other of us would look away. Would Jack be sympathetic to my plight, I wondered? Would he care that I bore his child? Or would he shrug the pregnancy away as entirely my problem? So many men would do exactly that; and he was, after all, a pirate.
James Norrington became my only hope for salvation. He would never lower himself to impropriety before our marriage; therefore, he would know beyond doubt that the child was not his. That he would reject me should he discover the shameful truth, that I had willingly surrendered my virtue to Jack Sparrow, I knew. But I could tell him a story of ravishment by Captain Barbossa instead. I could weep and plead and beg for James' mercy. He was too honorable to deny me because of abuse so far beyond my control. He would wed me and thereby legitimize my child; then later, when I had given him his own children to love, perhaps my firstborn's parentage would no longer matter so much to him.
I would have to wait until the last of Barbossa's crew had been hanged, however, before telling James my story. Then there would be no one left to dispute my claim. Yes, that hope was all I had to cling to.
I didn't expect that plan to fall apart quite so completely.
On the day of Sparrow's hanging, when Will declared his love for me, my heart literally stopped beating. I couldn't breath, and I felt weak with the shock of it. It was an easy thing, pretending to faint. Later, standing by Will's side, defending the father of the tiny life within me, I knew I could never marry James Norrington. With Will, the man I truly loved, I would find a happier path.
I arranged to meet Will that very night at the smithy. I was going to tell him the truth of my situation. I was going to tell him everything that had transpired between myself and Jack Sparrow on the island. I planned to be completely honest with him, for I didn't want our life together to begin with a lie.
But Will's eyes were so adoring as he gazed into mine. His touch was so careful. His kiss so chaste and reverent. He told me that he loved me. He told me that he worshiped me. He told me that I was perfect, an angel come to earth. And that he was glad he had saved himself for me; glad that our wedding night would be the first time for us both.
I wanted to tell him, truly I did. But just as when I had feared his friendship would turn to loathing, so now did I fear his love would turn to hatred.
You must understand! I did what I had to do, to protect myself and my baby, and even to protect Will himself. Certainly I'm not the first woman to practice such deceit nor, I'm sure, will I be the last.
A touch, a kiss. A yearning glance. A misplaced hand, shyly withdrawn. Jack had said he respected anyone willing to do whatever was necessary. I wondered if he would respect what I did that night, seducing the man I loved while carefully letting him think himself the seducer, while letting him believe that we were both simply carried away by the power of our love. I played the innocent maiden stirred to impropriety by Will Turner's passion. I tried to lose myself in my love for him but with every unsure, awkward caress Will gave me, I remembered the surety of Jack Sparrow's touch. When Will entered me I cried out in pain, emulating the instant Jack Sparrow had stolen my maidenhead. While Jack had trapped my cry in a kiss, thus beginning our slow ascent toward ecstasy, Will had instead apologized and sweetly offered to stop before we went any further.
With both men I cried afterward, and both times it was for the same two reasons. I cried because Will Turner, the man I loved more than life itself, had not been my first. I cried because I wanted to forget how Jack Sparrow had made my passion burn.
A week later, I told Will that I was pregnant. He was elated, God bless him, assuming the child to be his own. He held me and kissed me, and told me that he loved me. There were tears in his eyes, and I knew they were tears of joy. If he wondered at how swiftly I had discovered the pregnancy, he said nothing of it. We were married a fortnight later.
My father suspected my illicit liaison with Will, of course, as did Commodore Norrington. Why else would my wedding be so rushed? Tongues wagged and tales were told, nasty gossip was passed between neighbors and friends. But no one knew the truth, and I took comfort knowing that soon enough some other unfortunate girl would inherit my notoriety. My child would be born to two loving, lawfully-wedded parents and that, ultimately, was the only thing that mattered.
Months passed. Happy months, for Will and I found much joy in our marriage. We learned one another's likes and dislikes, our idiosyncrasies and secrets. I learned that he hated turnips, he learned that I loved to lap cream like a kitten. We discovered that he could embroider more skillfully than I could, which caused many nights of teasing and laughter. We learned how to pleasure one another, and I no longer dreamed quite so longingly of the pirate. I thought nothing could ever endanger my wonderful new life as Mrs. William Turner.
And then he showed up on our doorstep.
I was well into my seventh month (although I admitted to only six) with my belly round and full, my condition obvious even at a glance. I sat in the parlor of our modest home, sewing the hem of a new blanket for the baby, when Will appeared in the doorway, beaming.
"I have a surprise for you, Elizabeth," he grinned.
"Oh?" I smiled, letting the blanket drape across the breadth of my belly. "And what might that be?"
"Not a what. A ~who~."
I frowned, not understanding. "A who?" I repeated.
"That's right. Come on, darling, I'll show you."
I set my sewing aside and let Will help me to my feet. I steadied my balance, wincing only a little as the baby adjusted its own position. I dreaded the thought of how clumsy I would be when the baby, and my belly, swelled to their full proportions.
Will led me through our home, urging me into the kitchen.
My maid, Estrella, stood in the kitchen's far corner, her eyes big as saucers, wringing her hands in dismay. She stared at the opened pantry door, looking for all the world like she wanted to bolt and run. At first I thought a snake must have slithered inside; then realized in that same instant that a snake would hardly be counted as Will's surprise, much less a pleasant one. There were sounds coming from inside the pantry that a snake could never manage. Something ... some~one~ ... was shoving things about with little consideration for organization or order.
"Bloody hell, woman," came the loudly grumbled comment from deep within that shadowed recess, "I thought you said there were some greens in here?"
I knew that voice! Sweet heaven, I'd thought never to hear it again!
"Oh," I breathed. I felt suddenly dizzy. Would fainting give our secret away? "Jack Sparrow?" I whispered, too stunned to say anything more.
"None other," Will happily confirmed, eyes thankfully focused on the pantry and not on me.
"But what is he ...? What if the Commodore ...?"
"Will?!" Shadows in the pantry shifted and moved. I saw the flash of a dirty coat and dark dusty boots. A worn old tricorne set above long black hair tangled with braids and beads and trinkets. I saw a familiar smile sparked with gold when Jack leaned through the doorway and grinned at us.
"Bethie." The hat was politely whisked off. Jack dipped his scruffy chin in the smallest of bows, then planted the hat back atop his head. His grin seemed genuine. "S'good to see you again, luv. Will, where are those bloody greens?"
"What on earth?" I stammered as Will abandoned me to find the missing vegetables. He moved past Jack and disappeared inside the pantry while I clung to the kitchen doorframe for support. Did my voice really sound as frightened as I thought it did? "I mean what ... why did you come here, Jack?"
He smiled. With Will's back turned to him and poor Estrella too flustered to notice, Jack caught my gaze and held it. He said, "I met a sailor from Port Royal a while back, he told me the good news." He dropped his eyes to the swell of my belly, silently acknowledging the baby there. The glance was brief, though to me it seemed eternal. Eyes back on mine, he said, "I thought to congratulate you in person."
My hand cupped my baby, a vain gesture of protection. "You should leave," I told him firmly. Jack Sparrow wasn't stupid; he would know I didn't mean the danger of capture alone.
"Oh, aye," he readily agreed. He tilted his head, contemplating me. "But not just yet, eh?" He frowned as if at some sudden notion, then abruptly vanished back inside the pantry. His voice floated out, impatient with my husband's delay. "Haven't you found 'em yet, mate? Ahhh!" Sparrow reappeared, his expression triumphant as he cradled a thick bundle of spinach in one arm and dangled a half-dozen carrots from the other hand.
Will exited behind him, holding watercress and a fistful of tomatoes. "Estrella," he called happily, "see what you can cook up with these, will you? Captain Sparrow is hungry."
"Not just hungry, mate. ~Starved~. We been livin' off nuthin but breads and shriveled up potatoes for near a month now. You have no idea how that can make a man crave somethin' fresh."
"I can only imagine," Will grinned, depositing his load on our kitchen's large oak table.
The pirate eagerly tumbled his spinach down beside the rest, but when Estrella reached hesitant hands to take the carrots from him Jack pulled back with a wrathful scowl. Wisely, Estrella let him keep them.
"We can wait in the parlor," Will smiled cordially. "Its warmer in there; I don't want Elizabeth getting chilled."
"Mmpfh humm," Sparrow agreed, already crunching carrot.
The short walk down the hallway to the parlor seemed endless. The walls sifted and flowed, the floor wobbled and swayed.
"Elizabeth?" Will asked worriedly, his arm circling the thickness of my girth to steady me.
"I'm just a little dizzy," I smiled. I patted the arm that held me, soothing away my husband's concern. "Seeing Jack again ... I wasn't expecting it, that's all. I'm fine, really."
"You're sure?"
"Absolutely!" I replied with feigned gaiety. Will helped ease me into the chair where I had earlier been so peacefully hemming my baby's blanket. The fire crackled and popped in the hearth, a deceptively cheerful song.
"She do this often?" Jack asked, waving his carrot my way, speaking of my dizziness. I thought I saw more concern in his eyes than he meant to show.
"No," Will smiled kindly, his gaze fixed lovingly on mine, "not often. Only when pirates show up raiding our cupboards. She's a rock the rest of the time."
"Mmmm." Jack's reply was noncommittal. Another carrot met its untimely demise. I realized he was even eating the scruffy green tops.
My anxiety for him was genuine. "Jack, are you alright?"
"What? ~Oh~." Lips stretching wide, he lifted his current half-devoured victim. "Told you, luv, we been at sea too long. Ran out of foodstuffs a couple weeks back. The crew is ... reprovisionin' even as we speak."
"You mean they're out stealing food?" Will supplied knowingly, though his words lacked rancor or accusation. His hand rested atop my shoulder, caress and comfort all in one warm touch.
"Can't say for sure, mate. Our last venture was successful, so they have enough new gold to make their purchases. Whether they pay for it or not is up to them, innit? Seein's how their Captain is here mindin' his own business with you two fine upstandin' citizens and doin' nuthin wrong at all. Which I'm sure you'll tell Commodore Norrington should the need arise." Another carrot crunched. Jack smiled endearingly around it.
I refused to acknowledge how that smile made my heart flutter. I was a married woman now after all, and soon to be a mother! I loved my husband more than I loved my own life. It was wrong, even foolhardy, to feel what I was feeling. It was ~bad!~
Still my heart fluttered, remembering intimacies better forgotten. Inside the baby fluttered too, and shifted restlessly, and I wondered if perhaps it sensed its father's presence.
I reached up to Will's hand on my shoulder, entwined my fingers through his. I drew strength from his devotion, his love. For my husband's sake, I could be the rock he believed me to be.
"And what exactly ~was~ your last venture, Jack?" Will asked curiously.
Jack Sparrow was eating his last carrot more slowly. He prowled our small parlor like a restless cat, unobtrusively peeking in flower vases and baskets, casually opening boxes and drawers and looking inside. I didn't believe he would actually steal from us; or at least, I didn't believe he would rob Will. Perhaps it was simply the ~habit~ of thievery that made him snoop.
"Spanish merchant," he said after upturning a particularly promising music box. He frowned, listened to the tinny melody lilting from within it, then snapped the lid shut and continued his lazy perusal of our belongings. "Got a fortune in textiles and spices. Olive oil. A few tidy chests of gold and silver coins. Unfortunately, the armada trailin' it took offense to our ... acquisition."
"They attacked you?" Will asked worriedly.
"Only two of the four. Two bloody man-o-wars, mate. Well-nigh a hundred gun each."
"But what did you do?"
Jack made a scoffing noise as he opened the armoire and peered inside, squinting into shadows. "What d'you think we did, mate? We ran."
"The ~Black Pearl~ ran?" Will seemed astounded by the notion.
"She's the fastest ship in the Caribbean," Jack answered dismissively, removing and shaking a drawer, perhaps checking for a hidden compartment. "Speed's a weapon in its own right, savvy? Besides, no worries," he slipped the drawer back in place, "I'll think of a proper tale to tell later on. Anyway," he straightened, "that's why we ran out of provisions. Bloody Spaniards kept after us for near a month. We couldn't put in to port, not with them on our tail. Amazing," he added, looking suddenly thoughtful, "how weevils can look almost appetizin' when you're hungry enough."
My stomach churned, picturing it.
"So," Jack grinned, stepping nearer, completely changing the subject, "you're havin' a baby, eh?"
"That's right." Will virtually glowed with paternal pride while I felt myself grow wan and pale.
"Didn't waste no time then?" the pirate added. Cagily, I thought.
"We didn't even wait for our wedding," Will admitted. Misreading my horrified glance, he chuckled, "Its alright, Elizabeth. Jack isn't one to judge."
"Of course not," I whispered. At least I think I whispered it aloud. I couldn't hear past the heavy thudding of my heartbeat. Inside, the baby kicked and jiggled excitedly; forcefully enough that the men noticed..
"Jack ... here, give me your hand." Without asking anyone's permission, Will grabbed the pirate's hand and pressed it against the rolling expanse of my abdomen.
My heart's thudding stopped briefly as it flipped and squeezed tight. It tripped and started up again at a maddening, crippling, desperate pace, like a trapped bird battering itself against its cage.
I was paralyzed by a myriad of strong emotions, not the least of which was fear. I lifted my eyes because they were the only things I seemed capable of moving; slowly, I raised them to Jack Sparrow's face. His concentration was fastened to the movement beneath his palm where my dress ebbed and flowed across flesh like ocean waves across turbulent seas. His brows were puckered slightly beneath the worn red bandana. His expression was unreadable.
Did he suspect? Oh, my God, did he ~know~?
But how could he? No. No, he couldn't know. Not a man like Jack Sparrow, who had foresworn home and hearth, marriage and fatherhood. A man like that couldn't possible suspect anything amiss. Or if he did, he wouldn't care.
Will beamed at him, so proud his child, so delighted. I felt like crying.
"Remarkable, isn't it?" Will smiled gladly. "That tiny life growing inside the woman I love. It's a miracle, Jack." His fingers tightened around mine, possessively.
Jack's lips twisted slightly, an indication that he wasn't quite as charmed by my pregnancy as was my husband. He withdrew his hand, rubbing fingers against palm as though he had touched something vaguely distasteful. His expression was reminiscent of a man confronted by awful things. All of which gave me hope.
"If you say so, mate. Not my cup of tea though, savvy? Speakin' of which ..." Once again the clever pirate switched topics. He smiled hopefully at Will. "Might you have a bottle or two of rum lyin' about someplace? Just a wee bit of somethin' to help wet a man's whistle?"
Will smiled lightheartedly. "We have water, Jack. And some milk. And tea, of course."
Jack's anguish was priceless; I would have laughed had I not already been so unnerved just by his being there. "And nuthin else? Nuthin more ... stout?"
My husband laughed softly, indulgently. He loved this man. Would he still love him if he knew what Jack Sparrow had done to me on that dreadful island?
"Tell you what, mate." Jack dug inside a coat pocket, then tossed Will a silver coin. It twirled merry cartwheels through the air, flashing bright reflections from the hearth. Will caught it in mid-flight. "Fetch me a bottle from someplace then, eh? Just enough to get me through that fine dinner your maid is fixin' me."
Will frowned mildly at the coin in his hand. "But its late, Jack."
"And gettin' no earlier."
"And this is more than what one bottle of rum will cost."
"Then fetch me two. Or three. However many that coin will buy." The pirate grinned like some feral beast, leaned conspiratorially close to Will and murmured, "Get old Jack a good store for next time he visits, eh?"
"Next time?" I repeated hollowly.
"Will you be alright, Elizabeth. Until I get back?" He was going. Will was going to leave me alone with Jack Sparrow! But to protest his leaving ... no, I couldn't, that would only call attention to my distress. Make Will wonder at its origin.
The thought occurred that I was being paranoid. I would be fine. Jack was oblivious to my child's lineage; or at least, unconcerned by it. And far better to have Jack alone with me than alone with Will, where I chanced having the pirate reveal to my husband what had transpired between us. I drew a deep steadying breath, calmed myself. I could do this. I would be fine. ~Everything~ would be fine.
I composed my features into serene lines. "Of course I'll be fine. Jack won't let anything happen to me. Will you, Jack?"
"I shall guard the fair damsel with my very life, William."
"Alright then. I'll be back home as soon as I can, darling." Will leaned over me, kissed me gently on the lips. He deepened the kiss, and I did not protest the intimacy. As Will himself had pointed out, Jack Sparrow was not one to judge.
The parlor seemed suddenly very empty without Will there. Together in our silence, Jack Sparrow and I listened to the sounds of my husband shrugging into his coat. Together, we heard the door slam shut behind him.
Jack stood before the hearth hallowed in firelight's golden glow, his hands clasped behind his back. He stared past me to the night shrouded window and the city without. When he noticed me watching him, one corner of his mouth stretched out in a small, familiar half-smile. Without comment, he paced slowly across the room and back again, no longer my lazily snooping guest. His expression had grown strangely somber, his demeanor that of a man needing movement perhaps as much as he needed air filling his lungs.
He stopped inches from my chair and looked down at me.
"How far along?" he asked quietly, nodding his scruffy chin to indicate my swollen belly.
"Six months." Amazing how easily the lie sprang to my lips, how easily my face smoothed in a sincere, honest smile. I had had several months to perfect it.
Jack leaned down very slowly. He braced his hands on the arms of my chair, his face so near mine I could feel his warm breath on my cheek. Beside my ear, he whispered, "Bollocks."
Startled, I watched him straighten. His eyes, like sharp chips of obsidian, held to my face.
I gathered pride around myself as shield and armor. Haughtily, I replied, "I think I would be the best to know that, Captain Sparrow. A mother ~always~ knows."
"Indeed, a mother does."
My heart pounded anew. Ignoring his implication, I levered myself up and out of the chair. I was surprised when I found his strong hands on my arms, steadying me while the baby lurched and I sought balance.
"Thank you," I said softly, gazing intently at the safety of my feet. Or rather, where my feet would have been had the baby not been blocking my view.
"You're welcome." He released me. Still, he stared.
I moved away from him, seeking the more innocuous view from that same window he had found so fascinating. Outside, darkness held sway over Port Royal, shadows reigned supreme. I wondered how many honest merchants and grocers were even now being robbed of their goods by the ~Black Pearl's~ crew?
I made a great pretense of studying the star-strewn sky, and lower, those night-shrouded buildings and the black streets bisecting them, pretending nothing more oblique than anticipation of Will's return. In reality, I watched Jack Sparrow's reflection in the glass as he, in turn, watched me.
A lifetime of empty niceties learned in genteel society, skills necessary when dealing with those delicate and easily insulted souls born to wealth and privilege, soared to my aid. I smiled pleasantly as if untroubled by his presence. I chattered with vapid joviality. "The closest tavern is only three streets over, Jack, so Will shouldn't be too long. I swear, he has the longest, fastest legs of any man I've ever known! I remember one day in particular, I had a terrible craving for codfish and papaya ... can you ~imagine~? Will had to go down to the docks for the fish, then run all the way across the city to find a vendor selling ripe papayas. It seemed like he'd only just left and there he was back again, a wrapped codfish in one hand..."
Jack approached me from behind, his image looming larger and nearer in the telltale glass.
"... and ... and three ripe papayas balanced in the other." My voice sounded nervous and edgy. I kept talking, hoping to forestall anything the pirate had to say. "He was gasping for air, ready to topple off his feet, poor thing, but I could see he was quite pleased with himself for what he'd done. He could barely even ~speak~ mind you, yet he presented me with the fish and fruit with courtly elegance, as if they were a queen's jewels or ..."
"Have you told him?" Jack asked quietly.
"... or some other royal boon worth a king's ransom in gold or, or jewels." God, I was babbling! I had to get a grip on myself! "He ... he collapsed in that very chair there, the one covered in gardenias and ivies, pretty isn't it? and then he ..."
"I take it the answer is no, then."
I stopped my babbling. I turned my eyes to meet his dark, steady gaze. No use pretending, I realized, not with this man; no point in lying to the crown prince of all liars. "What should I have told him, Jack?" My voice was so low I could barely hear it myself. At least it didn't quaver the way I quavered inside. "Should I have told him that I betrayed him on that awful island? Should I have broken his heart forever?"
Brief disgust, there and gone. "You hold a rather high opinion of your own worth, Mrs. Turner, believin' something ~you~ did could break someone ~else's~ spirit. Or is it that you think so little of our William?"
"What?" I breathed.
But Jack, always changing the subject, had already switched to another. Or ... maybe he hadn't.
Abruptly, he asked, "Do you think William is stupid?"
His question took me aback. I stammered, "Well, no. Of ~course~ not! Will is one of the most intelligent ..."
"Then wouldn't it be worse if he found out on his own?"
A sudden cold chill crept up my spine. I shivered as if standing barefoot in snow. "You're going to tell him about ... us," I whispered desolately. Not a question; rather, a hopeless acknowledgement of the inevitable.
"I doubt I'll have to," he said, and he glanced down at the baby within me.
I raised my chin in proud denial. "I'm only six months along, Captain Sparrow. I don't see how that could possibly ..."
"Seven months if you're a day," he stated flatly. Frowning mildly, he looked up to meet my eyes, a question in his own. "Do you think me inexperienced in such things, Elizabeth?"
"You're no woman's husband, Jack." I sounded more confident than I felt, for I really knew very little about Jack Sparrow, and none of it concerning his life away from piracy. "What could you possibly know about," I blushed and glanced away, for such things were not discussed between men and women, "about pregnancy and childbirth?"
"I've four of my own, or so I'm told. Least those are the ones I know about; there's probably more that I don't."
"Four?" I couldn't have been more stunned had Barbossa's ghost jumped out from behind him and shouted, "Boo!"
"That's right. Two boys and a girl."
"Two ... boys and ... a ..."
A quick flash of gold and ivory teeth. "Aye. The girl and one of the lads I can't deny. Spittin' image of me, as it were. Like I'd spat 'em out myself." Paternal pride? ~Paternal pride in a pirate~? No, no it had to be something else I saw lighting Jack Sparrow's eyes. Some other odd joy shining there, something far removed from a father's love for his children. Pirates were simply not capable of such purity of emotion. "The other boy is too fair to be my get despite his mother's assertions, but he's a good lad so I've claimed him."
"And their mother ...?"
"Mothers," Jack interrupted succinctly. "Four children from four mothers. Makes it rather simple to keep up with, don't you think?"
Inconsistency nagged. I allowed myself a superior little smirk as I corrected him. "Two boys and one girl do not make four children, Jack."
"Doesn't it ... Elizabeth?"
I felt my face flush crimson with embarrassment. "You're wrong," I whispered hoarsely, looking away from him. "You're very, very wrong. I'm only six months along."
Jack moved closer, almost but not quite touching me. I could feel the heat of his body, could smell the sweetness of carrots still lingering on his breath. I was reminded of one wonderful, impassioned night on a lost and lonely island. I closed my eyes. Yet even in the darkness behind my shut lids, his soft voice found me.
"What will you tell dear William should the babe be born gypsy dark?" I opened my eyes. I raised them to meet his. Starlight from the window shone in the black depths of his gaze.
"W-what?"
His mouth crimped. His head tilted, spilling black braids and colorful beads to one side. His tone was sternly disbelieving. "Don't tell me you haven't considered it?"
Nose in the air. Lips pursed. Proud. "I'm sure I don't know what ..."
"Elizabeth," he hissed, interrupting my renewed denial. For the first time, I saw real impatience in his face. It was the same expression he had worn on the island when explaining how Will's attempted rescue of me had thwarted Jack's own plans to rescue all of us from Barbossa and reclaim the ~Black Pearl~. "Must we play these silly games, milady?"
"Jack, I ..."
"If nothing else, Elizabeth, there should be truth between us. Now more than ever, don't you think?"
I dropped my gaze. I had no words with which to answer him.
"Have you not considered it?" he pressed.
"I ... not really," I reluctantly admitted. I wrung my hands nervously, watching them. "There was nothing to be done about it. The child will be as it is meant to be. What would be the point of worrying myself senseless over something beyond my control?"
He studied me for a long moment before saying, "You could have told William."
"I couldn't."
"So you lied to him instead?"
"I never lied!" I declared hotly. The anger was brief, however, and left me feeling diminished in its wake. Weakly ... yes, ashamed ... I finished, "I simply never told him the truth."
Lips crimping, Jack murmured, "And they call ~me~ a scoundrel."
It was too much. Affronted, I raised my hand to strike him.
Jack easily caught my wrist. He held me captive by it, preventing my flight way from him. He moved closer. Intimately close. My heart responded with a flutter that had nothing whatsoever to do with fear or anger. I hated myself for it, yet it fluttered nonetheless.
Lips on the corner of my mouth. Whiskers tickling my cheek. Images flooded my mind of another night, when the glorious hues of an island sunset bathed our naked, straining bodies in pastel shades. Remembering, I felt myself melting in to him, just as I had then. I sighed when Jack released my wrist and settled his hands on the wideness of my waist; not an embrace, but an intimacy nevertheless.
Sandwiched between us, the baby squirmed, kicking at its father.
Jack pulled back only far enough to look down at the bulge of cloth and hidden flesh between us. With a tenderness that nearly broke my heart, his hands followed the expanded contours of my body, from thickened waist across distended flesh, exploring the roundness of my abdomen. He cupped the baby in strong, strangely gentle hands. The baby wiggled and stretched for him. It danced as if with joy. Jack's face filled with emotions I would never have imaged in a pirate.
"Jack ..."
"Shhhh." He looked up, and I saw myself reflected in his eyes. He leaned forward, his mouth brushing mine, his hands still holding our baby. Against my lips, Jack whispered, "I shall send you a portion of gold every year for the child's upkeep. Should our dear William become so affluent as to make the gold unnecessary, you will save each portion as you receive it, and then give the whole of it to the child when he comes of age. Savvy?"
"Alright," I agreed a little breathlessly.
His voice was so soft, his tone so seductive. How could this man affect me thusly when I loved my husband so dearly? It was wrong, I knew that. I was a well-bred lady, not some dirty trollop from the streets, and well- bred ladies were simply not prone to the lustful impulses that plagued women of lower birth. By blood and heritage, I was immune to such lascivious inclinations. Besides which, Will Turner was my life, my world! I was the luckiest woman on earth to have him for my husband. But oh, the warmth of Jack Sparrow's hands, the taste of his lips ... it was surely some spell the pirate had cast, I realized; some romantic glamour he had set upon me, just as he had on the island, for otherwise I would never behave with such impiety.
I did not love him. I could never love such a lawless, depraved individual. I knew that beyond doubt because I loved my husband so very much, and what I felt for Jack Sparrow was nothing like what I felt for Will. This ... this ~passion~, this ~burning~ ... this was what Will and I shared in the sanctity of our marriage bed. Why then did I feel it for this disreputable man whom I did not love? A disturbing thought intruded: Was it ... could it be ... was ~this~ what some referred to as raw animal lust? Could I be so sinful as to feel ~that~?
His hands caught the baby's thrusts of elbows and feet. Still softly, still sweetly, mouth lingering against mine yet never opening to deepen caress into kiss, Jack whispered, "And should I find, Elizabeth, that you are raisin' my child improperly, I shall make all haste to come here and snatch him away from you."
I drew back with a start, my eyes wide and staring, all my dilemmas of love and lust forgotten. Suddenly, the fluttering of my heart meant something else entirely.
"What ... what did you say?" I whispered. At least, I think I spoke it aloud. I must have, for the pirate answered me.
He stared into my eyes, and I saw nothing of humor in his, no teasing. No cruelty either. Jack Sparrow was deadly serious.
"You heard me, Mrs. Turner." Sparrow's hands fell away from my belly, ending intimacies both real and imagined. Still too close. I took one small, stumbling step back from him. One trembling hand lifted to cover my madly thrumming heart.
"You can't. Jack, you ~wouldn't~."
His eyes narrowed and I saw in them, in his expression, a welter of emotions I could not fully identify. Love, but not for me. Pride. A determined possessiveness. Quietly, he explained, "My oldest son was given to me by his mother. She didn't want him growing up on the streets of Tortuga, so I took him. My youngest boy I took when I found him beaten bloody raw by the mother's new husband; I killed the man before I left with the boy. My daughter I took when I found out her mother planned to auction her off in a brothel after she got her first blood. She only turned seven last month."
"My God," I whispered, horrified. Then another disturbing thought occurred. I frowned, "Surely you don't keep them on the ship?"
"My children won't grow up to be pirates, Elizabeth. Not unless they have the calling. No, I've placed them in a convent school in Hispaniola. I've ensured they'll receive all the good care and proper education that I never had."
"And do you see them, Jack? Do you visit them?" Suddenly, that seemed a very important thing to know.
He dropped his gaze, again studying the now blessedly quiescent life within me; the baby had fallen asleep. "Every chance I get," he admitted almost sadly, "though not as often as I'd like." His eyes found mine again. He said decisively, "I may be a depraved and lawless man, as they say I am, Elizabeth. But I take care of my own. Savvy?"
His implication included more than the mere issuance of a yearly stipend of gold. Behind the safety of pride and formality, I replied, "Well, you certainly have nothing to worry about here, Captain Sparrow. This child will be loved and well cared for."
"Will it?" Jack's tone grew terse, almost snappish. He removed the careful distance I had put between us by stepping forward. "You have proven yourself as disreputable as I am, Mrs. Turner. Peas in a pod, remember, darlin'? I want to make sure my child will be safe in your care."
"What?!" I exclaimed somewhat shrilly.
His tone was sarcastic, accusatory. "There you were braggin' about all your high class propriety, spoutin' off about knowin' right from wrong better'n old Jack. Yet findin' yourself alone with a man for the very first time in your prim and proper life, you did not hesitate to open your thighs."
My face flushed scarlet. I could not look at him. "The circumstances ..."
"Do not matter," he interrupted brusquely. "The fact remains that you did it, quite willingly. And still persist in layin' the blame for it on me, I'm sure."
Haughtily: "Babies are not made by only one person, Captain Sparrow."
"No, Mrs. Turner. They are not."
Why would the flush not leave my face? It felt like a flaming banner proclaiming shame.
"Do you think Norrington suspected you were barterin' used goods in exchange for William's rescue?"
I stared at him, mute.
"Not that I blame you, luv. You have a tool and you use it to your advantage. Its no more than what most women do. No more than what any good pirate would do."
"You're wrong," I sighed numbly.
Jack ran the back of one finger along my cheek. "And even now," he murmured, "married and heavy with child as you are, I do believe you would give yourself to me again should I ask you."
I jerked away from him. "I would ~not~," I spat.
"But I'm not asking, luv."
I sputtered a vastly pointless, "Good then."
Jack Sparrow continued relentlessly. "You've lied to your husband. I can only guess at the measures you took to ensure he believed the babe was his." He glanced down at the baby, then up again, almost surly. "And when the little one comes and William sees its none of his, what will you tell him then? A truth he can no longer accept? Or new lies to pad the old?"
"How ~dare~ you speak to me this way!"
"I don't think William will leave you; he's too damned honorable for that. But I doubt he'll enjoy knowin' he was cuckolded and lied to by the woman he loves. And I doubt he'll be happy playin' daddy to a child he knows isn't his."
My heart hammered so hard I thought it would burst forth from my chest. I felt the heat of tears stinging my eyes, and even I wasn't certain if they were born of fury or guilt. I looked down and away so Jack wouldn't see them. I murmured tightly, "And so you would steal away my child. To protect it from ... ~me~?"
"Only if I have to."
My fluttering heart slowed to a dull, leaden weight. It was my turn to change the subject. Or ... maybe I didn't. "The child might look like me, Jack. I am the mother, after all."
I heard Jack's sigh: heavy, resigned, strangely weary. It was a sound lacking all previous animosity. Quietly, almost tenderly, he said, "My father was a bloody Spaniard, luv. My mother was half Italian and half French. There is very little chance the child will be as pale as you need him to be."
Desolation encompassed me body, mind and soul. I saw myself through the clarity of a pirate's eyes and no longer cared that tears spilled openly down my cheeks. "I'm lost," I breathed tremulously. I looked into kohl- rimmed eyes dark as obsidian. "Oh, Jack, I'm ~lost~."
His smile was gentle. He wiped the tears away with a calloused thumb. "Nah," he told me. "You can still turn pirate, Bethie." A pointed glance at my girth. "Though we can't call you 'Slim' anymore, can we?"
I smiled, just a little, through my tears.
"I'm back!" Grinning broadly, Will walked into the parlor still wearing his overcoat. Spliced between his fingers were the narrow necks of four rum bottles. Neither of us had heard him enter the house. Now, seeing Jack and I standing so near one another, seeing the tears marking my face, his smile abruptly vanished. He stopped in mid-stride and frowned at us. "What's wrong? What's happened? Jack?"
Jack Sparrow's smile was immediate, and as sincerely sunny as a bright summer day. "Nuthin's wrong, mate." He left me in favor of Will and the newly arrived rum. Snatching one of the bottles from my husband's hand, uncorking it, he said, "I was just tellin' Bethie about the sad demise of your grandparents." He took a quick swallow, swiped his mouth dry, sighed contentedly, and glanced back my way. "Not my fault breedin' women can't hear a sad tale without goin' all wet and weepy on a man, eh?"
"It was a very sad story," I quickly temporized, blotting my face dry. Seeing Will my heart shattered into a thousand jagged shards.
All unknowing, Will smiled and shook his head dismissively. "I knew my grandparents, Jack. They each died peacefully in their sleep while I was still living in England."
"Not ~those~ grandparents! I meant Bootstrap's mom and dad."
Having placed the three remaining bottles on the bureau, Will looked up curiously. "You knew my father's parents?"
"Nah, but Bill told me about 'em almost as often as he told me about his bloody whelp." Jack smiled charmingly. "Did you know Bill's folks were from Italy?"
"Italy? Really?"
"Aye. Black and swarthy as Spaniards, that's how he described them." Jack glanced in a wall mirror, briefly admiring his own appearance, saying, "Pity Bill didn't inherit their dark good looks." With the hand not holding the bottle, he clapped Will fondly on the back. "But with luck, maybe your little one will have better luck, eh? I swear Bill Turner was an ugly son of a bitch."
Will frowned. "Everyone says I look just like him."
Silence, while Jack made a great show of fast thinking. "Yes, well um ... Bethie!" he exclaimed suddenly, striding energetically toward me, taking my arm in his hand. "What say we share this sad tale of William's Italian grandparents with him so he can cry too? And where the bloody ~hell~ is my supper?!"
Of course I knew what Jack was trying to do. I silently thanked him for it.
... continued ...
by Saahira
By the time we reached Port Royal, I knew I was pregnant. Never before had the merest sight of food, nor the faintest whiff of it carried on a breeze, made my belly cramp with nausea. Never before had the ocean's gentle swaying sent me scurrying to the rail to spill my stomach down amid the waves.
All my companions being the pompous, self-righteous, self-important males that they were, assumed my illness nothing more than a weak woman's innately inferior constitution suffering the aftermath of too much fear and excitement. I fluttered and fretted and encouraged that belief. If they suspected anything more, they hid their thoughts very carefully from me.
There were no other women aboard the ~Dauntless~. I had no one to talk to about my situation, no one whose counsel I trusted.
My mind raced for solutions and found none.
I found myself yearning for Will's companionship. However, in deference to my engagement to Commodore Norrington, the man I loved kept his distance. He spent most of his time roaming the deck in Jack Sparrow's company, and on the rare occasion we did meet, he remained flawlessly polite and impeccably proper. His eyes were so sad though that I doubted I could burden him even had I the opportunity. It would hurt too much, seeing his friendship for me turn to loathing.
As for my father, I could never admit my shame to him. I was his little girl, his darling, his baby; I could not face his disappointment. The knowledge, every time I met his gaze, that he knew I had willingly given myself to a lowly, despicable criminal. Knowing I had failed him so utterly would surely be the end of me.
And then there was Jack Sparrow himself, who remained even further removed from me than did Will Turner. That he kept our secret I had no doubt; he was that much of a gentleman, at least. Or perhaps he merely feared the Commodore's wrath should my fiancé learn of our intimacy. Our eyes met on occasion, our gazes would lock and fill with memory of that night. Then one or the other of us would look away. Would Jack be sympathetic to my plight, I wondered? Would he care that I bore his child? Or would he shrug the pregnancy away as entirely my problem? So many men would do exactly that; and he was, after all, a pirate.
James Norrington became my only hope for salvation. He would never lower himself to impropriety before our marriage; therefore, he would know beyond doubt that the child was not his. That he would reject me should he discover the shameful truth, that I had willingly surrendered my virtue to Jack Sparrow, I knew. But I could tell him a story of ravishment by Captain Barbossa instead. I could weep and plead and beg for James' mercy. He was too honorable to deny me because of abuse so far beyond my control. He would wed me and thereby legitimize my child; then later, when I had given him his own children to love, perhaps my firstborn's parentage would no longer matter so much to him.
I would have to wait until the last of Barbossa's crew had been hanged, however, before telling James my story. Then there would be no one left to dispute my claim. Yes, that hope was all I had to cling to.
I didn't expect that plan to fall apart quite so completely.
On the day of Sparrow's hanging, when Will declared his love for me, my heart literally stopped beating. I couldn't breath, and I felt weak with the shock of it. It was an easy thing, pretending to faint. Later, standing by Will's side, defending the father of the tiny life within me, I knew I could never marry James Norrington. With Will, the man I truly loved, I would find a happier path.
I arranged to meet Will that very night at the smithy. I was going to tell him the truth of my situation. I was going to tell him everything that had transpired between myself and Jack Sparrow on the island. I planned to be completely honest with him, for I didn't want our life together to begin with a lie.
But Will's eyes were so adoring as he gazed into mine. His touch was so careful. His kiss so chaste and reverent. He told me that he loved me. He told me that he worshiped me. He told me that I was perfect, an angel come to earth. And that he was glad he had saved himself for me; glad that our wedding night would be the first time for us both.
I wanted to tell him, truly I did. But just as when I had feared his friendship would turn to loathing, so now did I fear his love would turn to hatred.
You must understand! I did what I had to do, to protect myself and my baby, and even to protect Will himself. Certainly I'm not the first woman to practice such deceit nor, I'm sure, will I be the last.
A touch, a kiss. A yearning glance. A misplaced hand, shyly withdrawn. Jack had said he respected anyone willing to do whatever was necessary. I wondered if he would respect what I did that night, seducing the man I loved while carefully letting him think himself the seducer, while letting him believe that we were both simply carried away by the power of our love. I played the innocent maiden stirred to impropriety by Will Turner's passion. I tried to lose myself in my love for him but with every unsure, awkward caress Will gave me, I remembered the surety of Jack Sparrow's touch. When Will entered me I cried out in pain, emulating the instant Jack Sparrow had stolen my maidenhead. While Jack had trapped my cry in a kiss, thus beginning our slow ascent toward ecstasy, Will had instead apologized and sweetly offered to stop before we went any further.
With both men I cried afterward, and both times it was for the same two reasons. I cried because Will Turner, the man I loved more than life itself, had not been my first. I cried because I wanted to forget how Jack Sparrow had made my passion burn.
A week later, I told Will that I was pregnant. He was elated, God bless him, assuming the child to be his own. He held me and kissed me, and told me that he loved me. There were tears in his eyes, and I knew they were tears of joy. If he wondered at how swiftly I had discovered the pregnancy, he said nothing of it. We were married a fortnight later.
My father suspected my illicit liaison with Will, of course, as did Commodore Norrington. Why else would my wedding be so rushed? Tongues wagged and tales were told, nasty gossip was passed between neighbors and friends. But no one knew the truth, and I took comfort knowing that soon enough some other unfortunate girl would inherit my notoriety. My child would be born to two loving, lawfully-wedded parents and that, ultimately, was the only thing that mattered.
Months passed. Happy months, for Will and I found much joy in our marriage. We learned one another's likes and dislikes, our idiosyncrasies and secrets. I learned that he hated turnips, he learned that I loved to lap cream like a kitten. We discovered that he could embroider more skillfully than I could, which caused many nights of teasing and laughter. We learned how to pleasure one another, and I no longer dreamed quite so longingly of the pirate. I thought nothing could ever endanger my wonderful new life as Mrs. William Turner.
And then he showed up on our doorstep.
I was well into my seventh month (although I admitted to only six) with my belly round and full, my condition obvious even at a glance. I sat in the parlor of our modest home, sewing the hem of a new blanket for the baby, when Will appeared in the doorway, beaming.
"I have a surprise for you, Elizabeth," he grinned.
"Oh?" I smiled, letting the blanket drape across the breadth of my belly. "And what might that be?"
"Not a what. A ~who~."
I frowned, not understanding. "A who?" I repeated.
"That's right. Come on, darling, I'll show you."
I set my sewing aside and let Will help me to my feet. I steadied my balance, wincing only a little as the baby adjusted its own position. I dreaded the thought of how clumsy I would be when the baby, and my belly, swelled to their full proportions.
Will led me through our home, urging me into the kitchen.
My maid, Estrella, stood in the kitchen's far corner, her eyes big as saucers, wringing her hands in dismay. She stared at the opened pantry door, looking for all the world like she wanted to bolt and run. At first I thought a snake must have slithered inside; then realized in that same instant that a snake would hardly be counted as Will's surprise, much less a pleasant one. There were sounds coming from inside the pantry that a snake could never manage. Something ... some~one~ ... was shoving things about with little consideration for organization or order.
"Bloody hell, woman," came the loudly grumbled comment from deep within that shadowed recess, "I thought you said there were some greens in here?"
I knew that voice! Sweet heaven, I'd thought never to hear it again!
"Oh," I breathed. I felt suddenly dizzy. Would fainting give our secret away? "Jack Sparrow?" I whispered, too stunned to say anything more.
"None other," Will happily confirmed, eyes thankfully focused on the pantry and not on me.
"But what is he ...? What if the Commodore ...?"
"Will?!" Shadows in the pantry shifted and moved. I saw the flash of a dirty coat and dark dusty boots. A worn old tricorne set above long black hair tangled with braids and beads and trinkets. I saw a familiar smile sparked with gold when Jack leaned through the doorway and grinned at us.
"Bethie." The hat was politely whisked off. Jack dipped his scruffy chin in the smallest of bows, then planted the hat back atop his head. His grin seemed genuine. "S'good to see you again, luv. Will, where are those bloody greens?"
"What on earth?" I stammered as Will abandoned me to find the missing vegetables. He moved past Jack and disappeared inside the pantry while I clung to the kitchen doorframe for support. Did my voice really sound as frightened as I thought it did? "I mean what ... why did you come here, Jack?"
He smiled. With Will's back turned to him and poor Estrella too flustered to notice, Jack caught my gaze and held it. He said, "I met a sailor from Port Royal a while back, he told me the good news." He dropped his eyes to the swell of my belly, silently acknowledging the baby there. The glance was brief, though to me it seemed eternal. Eyes back on mine, he said, "I thought to congratulate you in person."
My hand cupped my baby, a vain gesture of protection. "You should leave," I told him firmly. Jack Sparrow wasn't stupid; he would know I didn't mean the danger of capture alone.
"Oh, aye," he readily agreed. He tilted his head, contemplating me. "But not just yet, eh?" He frowned as if at some sudden notion, then abruptly vanished back inside the pantry. His voice floated out, impatient with my husband's delay. "Haven't you found 'em yet, mate? Ahhh!" Sparrow reappeared, his expression triumphant as he cradled a thick bundle of spinach in one arm and dangled a half-dozen carrots from the other hand.
Will exited behind him, holding watercress and a fistful of tomatoes. "Estrella," he called happily, "see what you can cook up with these, will you? Captain Sparrow is hungry."
"Not just hungry, mate. ~Starved~. We been livin' off nuthin but breads and shriveled up potatoes for near a month now. You have no idea how that can make a man crave somethin' fresh."
"I can only imagine," Will grinned, depositing his load on our kitchen's large oak table.
The pirate eagerly tumbled his spinach down beside the rest, but when Estrella reached hesitant hands to take the carrots from him Jack pulled back with a wrathful scowl. Wisely, Estrella let him keep them.
"We can wait in the parlor," Will smiled cordially. "Its warmer in there; I don't want Elizabeth getting chilled."
"Mmpfh humm," Sparrow agreed, already crunching carrot.
The short walk down the hallway to the parlor seemed endless. The walls sifted and flowed, the floor wobbled and swayed.
"Elizabeth?" Will asked worriedly, his arm circling the thickness of my girth to steady me.
"I'm just a little dizzy," I smiled. I patted the arm that held me, soothing away my husband's concern. "Seeing Jack again ... I wasn't expecting it, that's all. I'm fine, really."
"You're sure?"
"Absolutely!" I replied with feigned gaiety. Will helped ease me into the chair where I had earlier been so peacefully hemming my baby's blanket. The fire crackled and popped in the hearth, a deceptively cheerful song.
"She do this often?" Jack asked, waving his carrot my way, speaking of my dizziness. I thought I saw more concern in his eyes than he meant to show.
"No," Will smiled kindly, his gaze fixed lovingly on mine, "not often. Only when pirates show up raiding our cupboards. She's a rock the rest of the time."
"Mmmm." Jack's reply was noncommittal. Another carrot met its untimely demise. I realized he was even eating the scruffy green tops.
My anxiety for him was genuine. "Jack, are you alright?"
"What? ~Oh~." Lips stretching wide, he lifted his current half-devoured victim. "Told you, luv, we been at sea too long. Ran out of foodstuffs a couple weeks back. The crew is ... reprovisionin' even as we speak."
"You mean they're out stealing food?" Will supplied knowingly, though his words lacked rancor or accusation. His hand rested atop my shoulder, caress and comfort all in one warm touch.
"Can't say for sure, mate. Our last venture was successful, so they have enough new gold to make their purchases. Whether they pay for it or not is up to them, innit? Seein's how their Captain is here mindin' his own business with you two fine upstandin' citizens and doin' nuthin wrong at all. Which I'm sure you'll tell Commodore Norrington should the need arise." Another carrot crunched. Jack smiled endearingly around it.
I refused to acknowledge how that smile made my heart flutter. I was a married woman now after all, and soon to be a mother! I loved my husband more than I loved my own life. It was wrong, even foolhardy, to feel what I was feeling. It was ~bad!~
Still my heart fluttered, remembering intimacies better forgotten. Inside the baby fluttered too, and shifted restlessly, and I wondered if perhaps it sensed its father's presence.
I reached up to Will's hand on my shoulder, entwined my fingers through his. I drew strength from his devotion, his love. For my husband's sake, I could be the rock he believed me to be.
"And what exactly ~was~ your last venture, Jack?" Will asked curiously.
Jack Sparrow was eating his last carrot more slowly. He prowled our small parlor like a restless cat, unobtrusively peeking in flower vases and baskets, casually opening boxes and drawers and looking inside. I didn't believe he would actually steal from us; or at least, I didn't believe he would rob Will. Perhaps it was simply the ~habit~ of thievery that made him snoop.
"Spanish merchant," he said after upturning a particularly promising music box. He frowned, listened to the tinny melody lilting from within it, then snapped the lid shut and continued his lazy perusal of our belongings. "Got a fortune in textiles and spices. Olive oil. A few tidy chests of gold and silver coins. Unfortunately, the armada trailin' it took offense to our ... acquisition."
"They attacked you?" Will asked worriedly.
"Only two of the four. Two bloody man-o-wars, mate. Well-nigh a hundred gun each."
"But what did you do?"
Jack made a scoffing noise as he opened the armoire and peered inside, squinting into shadows. "What d'you think we did, mate? We ran."
"The ~Black Pearl~ ran?" Will seemed astounded by the notion.
"She's the fastest ship in the Caribbean," Jack answered dismissively, removing and shaking a drawer, perhaps checking for a hidden compartment. "Speed's a weapon in its own right, savvy? Besides, no worries," he slipped the drawer back in place, "I'll think of a proper tale to tell later on. Anyway," he straightened, "that's why we ran out of provisions. Bloody Spaniards kept after us for near a month. We couldn't put in to port, not with them on our tail. Amazing," he added, looking suddenly thoughtful, "how weevils can look almost appetizin' when you're hungry enough."
My stomach churned, picturing it.
"So," Jack grinned, stepping nearer, completely changing the subject, "you're havin' a baby, eh?"
"That's right." Will virtually glowed with paternal pride while I felt myself grow wan and pale.
"Didn't waste no time then?" the pirate added. Cagily, I thought.
"We didn't even wait for our wedding," Will admitted. Misreading my horrified glance, he chuckled, "Its alright, Elizabeth. Jack isn't one to judge."
"Of course not," I whispered. At least I think I whispered it aloud. I couldn't hear past the heavy thudding of my heartbeat. Inside, the baby kicked and jiggled excitedly; forcefully enough that the men noticed..
"Jack ... here, give me your hand." Without asking anyone's permission, Will grabbed the pirate's hand and pressed it against the rolling expanse of my abdomen.
My heart's thudding stopped briefly as it flipped and squeezed tight. It tripped and started up again at a maddening, crippling, desperate pace, like a trapped bird battering itself against its cage.
I was paralyzed by a myriad of strong emotions, not the least of which was fear. I lifted my eyes because they were the only things I seemed capable of moving; slowly, I raised them to Jack Sparrow's face. His concentration was fastened to the movement beneath his palm where my dress ebbed and flowed across flesh like ocean waves across turbulent seas. His brows were puckered slightly beneath the worn red bandana. His expression was unreadable.
Did he suspect? Oh, my God, did he ~know~?
But how could he? No. No, he couldn't know. Not a man like Jack Sparrow, who had foresworn home and hearth, marriage and fatherhood. A man like that couldn't possible suspect anything amiss. Or if he did, he wouldn't care.
Will beamed at him, so proud his child, so delighted. I felt like crying.
"Remarkable, isn't it?" Will smiled gladly. "That tiny life growing inside the woman I love. It's a miracle, Jack." His fingers tightened around mine, possessively.
Jack's lips twisted slightly, an indication that he wasn't quite as charmed by my pregnancy as was my husband. He withdrew his hand, rubbing fingers against palm as though he had touched something vaguely distasteful. His expression was reminiscent of a man confronted by awful things. All of which gave me hope.
"If you say so, mate. Not my cup of tea though, savvy? Speakin' of which ..." Once again the clever pirate switched topics. He smiled hopefully at Will. "Might you have a bottle or two of rum lyin' about someplace? Just a wee bit of somethin' to help wet a man's whistle?"
Will smiled lightheartedly. "We have water, Jack. And some milk. And tea, of course."
Jack's anguish was priceless; I would have laughed had I not already been so unnerved just by his being there. "And nuthin else? Nuthin more ... stout?"
My husband laughed softly, indulgently. He loved this man. Would he still love him if he knew what Jack Sparrow had done to me on that dreadful island?
"Tell you what, mate." Jack dug inside a coat pocket, then tossed Will a silver coin. It twirled merry cartwheels through the air, flashing bright reflections from the hearth. Will caught it in mid-flight. "Fetch me a bottle from someplace then, eh? Just enough to get me through that fine dinner your maid is fixin' me."
Will frowned mildly at the coin in his hand. "But its late, Jack."
"And gettin' no earlier."
"And this is more than what one bottle of rum will cost."
"Then fetch me two. Or three. However many that coin will buy." The pirate grinned like some feral beast, leaned conspiratorially close to Will and murmured, "Get old Jack a good store for next time he visits, eh?"
"Next time?" I repeated hollowly.
"Will you be alright, Elizabeth. Until I get back?" He was going. Will was going to leave me alone with Jack Sparrow! But to protest his leaving ... no, I couldn't, that would only call attention to my distress. Make Will wonder at its origin.
The thought occurred that I was being paranoid. I would be fine. Jack was oblivious to my child's lineage; or at least, unconcerned by it. And far better to have Jack alone with me than alone with Will, where I chanced having the pirate reveal to my husband what had transpired between us. I drew a deep steadying breath, calmed myself. I could do this. I would be fine. ~Everything~ would be fine.
I composed my features into serene lines. "Of course I'll be fine. Jack won't let anything happen to me. Will you, Jack?"
"I shall guard the fair damsel with my very life, William."
"Alright then. I'll be back home as soon as I can, darling." Will leaned over me, kissed me gently on the lips. He deepened the kiss, and I did not protest the intimacy. As Will himself had pointed out, Jack Sparrow was not one to judge.
The parlor seemed suddenly very empty without Will there. Together in our silence, Jack Sparrow and I listened to the sounds of my husband shrugging into his coat. Together, we heard the door slam shut behind him.
Jack stood before the hearth hallowed in firelight's golden glow, his hands clasped behind his back. He stared past me to the night shrouded window and the city without. When he noticed me watching him, one corner of his mouth stretched out in a small, familiar half-smile. Without comment, he paced slowly across the room and back again, no longer my lazily snooping guest. His expression had grown strangely somber, his demeanor that of a man needing movement perhaps as much as he needed air filling his lungs.
He stopped inches from my chair and looked down at me.
"How far along?" he asked quietly, nodding his scruffy chin to indicate my swollen belly.
"Six months." Amazing how easily the lie sprang to my lips, how easily my face smoothed in a sincere, honest smile. I had had several months to perfect it.
Jack leaned down very slowly. He braced his hands on the arms of my chair, his face so near mine I could feel his warm breath on my cheek. Beside my ear, he whispered, "Bollocks."
Startled, I watched him straighten. His eyes, like sharp chips of obsidian, held to my face.
I gathered pride around myself as shield and armor. Haughtily, I replied, "I think I would be the best to know that, Captain Sparrow. A mother ~always~ knows."
"Indeed, a mother does."
My heart pounded anew. Ignoring his implication, I levered myself up and out of the chair. I was surprised when I found his strong hands on my arms, steadying me while the baby lurched and I sought balance.
"Thank you," I said softly, gazing intently at the safety of my feet. Or rather, where my feet would have been had the baby not been blocking my view.
"You're welcome." He released me. Still, he stared.
I moved away from him, seeking the more innocuous view from that same window he had found so fascinating. Outside, darkness held sway over Port Royal, shadows reigned supreme. I wondered how many honest merchants and grocers were even now being robbed of their goods by the ~Black Pearl's~ crew?
I made a great pretense of studying the star-strewn sky, and lower, those night-shrouded buildings and the black streets bisecting them, pretending nothing more oblique than anticipation of Will's return. In reality, I watched Jack Sparrow's reflection in the glass as he, in turn, watched me.
A lifetime of empty niceties learned in genteel society, skills necessary when dealing with those delicate and easily insulted souls born to wealth and privilege, soared to my aid. I smiled pleasantly as if untroubled by his presence. I chattered with vapid joviality. "The closest tavern is only three streets over, Jack, so Will shouldn't be too long. I swear, he has the longest, fastest legs of any man I've ever known! I remember one day in particular, I had a terrible craving for codfish and papaya ... can you ~imagine~? Will had to go down to the docks for the fish, then run all the way across the city to find a vendor selling ripe papayas. It seemed like he'd only just left and there he was back again, a wrapped codfish in one hand..."
Jack approached me from behind, his image looming larger and nearer in the telltale glass.
"... and ... and three ripe papayas balanced in the other." My voice sounded nervous and edgy. I kept talking, hoping to forestall anything the pirate had to say. "He was gasping for air, ready to topple off his feet, poor thing, but I could see he was quite pleased with himself for what he'd done. He could barely even ~speak~ mind you, yet he presented me with the fish and fruit with courtly elegance, as if they were a queen's jewels or ..."
"Have you told him?" Jack asked quietly.
"... or some other royal boon worth a king's ransom in gold or, or jewels." God, I was babbling! I had to get a grip on myself! "He ... he collapsed in that very chair there, the one covered in gardenias and ivies, pretty isn't it? and then he ..."
"I take it the answer is no, then."
I stopped my babbling. I turned my eyes to meet his dark, steady gaze. No use pretending, I realized, not with this man; no point in lying to the crown prince of all liars. "What should I have told him, Jack?" My voice was so low I could barely hear it myself. At least it didn't quaver the way I quavered inside. "Should I have told him that I betrayed him on that awful island? Should I have broken his heart forever?"
Brief disgust, there and gone. "You hold a rather high opinion of your own worth, Mrs. Turner, believin' something ~you~ did could break someone ~else's~ spirit. Or is it that you think so little of our William?"
"What?" I breathed.
But Jack, always changing the subject, had already switched to another. Or ... maybe he hadn't.
Abruptly, he asked, "Do you think William is stupid?"
His question took me aback. I stammered, "Well, no. Of ~course~ not! Will is one of the most intelligent ..."
"Then wouldn't it be worse if he found out on his own?"
A sudden cold chill crept up my spine. I shivered as if standing barefoot in snow. "You're going to tell him about ... us," I whispered desolately. Not a question; rather, a hopeless acknowledgement of the inevitable.
"I doubt I'll have to," he said, and he glanced down at the baby within me.
I raised my chin in proud denial. "I'm only six months along, Captain Sparrow. I don't see how that could possibly ..."
"Seven months if you're a day," he stated flatly. Frowning mildly, he looked up to meet my eyes, a question in his own. "Do you think me inexperienced in such things, Elizabeth?"
"You're no woman's husband, Jack." I sounded more confident than I felt, for I really knew very little about Jack Sparrow, and none of it concerning his life away from piracy. "What could you possibly know about," I blushed and glanced away, for such things were not discussed between men and women, "about pregnancy and childbirth?"
"I've four of my own, or so I'm told. Least those are the ones I know about; there's probably more that I don't."
"Four?" I couldn't have been more stunned had Barbossa's ghost jumped out from behind him and shouted, "Boo!"
"That's right. Two boys and a girl."
"Two ... boys and ... a ..."
A quick flash of gold and ivory teeth. "Aye. The girl and one of the lads I can't deny. Spittin' image of me, as it were. Like I'd spat 'em out myself." Paternal pride? ~Paternal pride in a pirate~? No, no it had to be something else I saw lighting Jack Sparrow's eyes. Some other odd joy shining there, something far removed from a father's love for his children. Pirates were simply not capable of such purity of emotion. "The other boy is too fair to be my get despite his mother's assertions, but he's a good lad so I've claimed him."
"And their mother ...?"
"Mothers," Jack interrupted succinctly. "Four children from four mothers. Makes it rather simple to keep up with, don't you think?"
Inconsistency nagged. I allowed myself a superior little smirk as I corrected him. "Two boys and one girl do not make four children, Jack."
"Doesn't it ... Elizabeth?"
I felt my face flush crimson with embarrassment. "You're wrong," I whispered hoarsely, looking away from him. "You're very, very wrong. I'm only six months along."
Jack moved closer, almost but not quite touching me. I could feel the heat of his body, could smell the sweetness of carrots still lingering on his breath. I was reminded of one wonderful, impassioned night on a lost and lonely island. I closed my eyes. Yet even in the darkness behind my shut lids, his soft voice found me.
"What will you tell dear William should the babe be born gypsy dark?" I opened my eyes. I raised them to meet his. Starlight from the window shone in the black depths of his gaze.
"W-what?"
His mouth crimped. His head tilted, spilling black braids and colorful beads to one side. His tone was sternly disbelieving. "Don't tell me you haven't considered it?"
Nose in the air. Lips pursed. Proud. "I'm sure I don't know what ..."
"Elizabeth," he hissed, interrupting my renewed denial. For the first time, I saw real impatience in his face. It was the same expression he had worn on the island when explaining how Will's attempted rescue of me had thwarted Jack's own plans to rescue all of us from Barbossa and reclaim the ~Black Pearl~. "Must we play these silly games, milady?"
"Jack, I ..."
"If nothing else, Elizabeth, there should be truth between us. Now more than ever, don't you think?"
I dropped my gaze. I had no words with which to answer him.
"Have you not considered it?" he pressed.
"I ... not really," I reluctantly admitted. I wrung my hands nervously, watching them. "There was nothing to be done about it. The child will be as it is meant to be. What would be the point of worrying myself senseless over something beyond my control?"
He studied me for a long moment before saying, "You could have told William."
"I couldn't."
"So you lied to him instead?"
"I never lied!" I declared hotly. The anger was brief, however, and left me feeling diminished in its wake. Weakly ... yes, ashamed ... I finished, "I simply never told him the truth."
Lips crimping, Jack murmured, "And they call ~me~ a scoundrel."
It was too much. Affronted, I raised my hand to strike him.
Jack easily caught my wrist. He held me captive by it, preventing my flight way from him. He moved closer. Intimately close. My heart responded with a flutter that had nothing whatsoever to do with fear or anger. I hated myself for it, yet it fluttered nonetheless.
Lips on the corner of my mouth. Whiskers tickling my cheek. Images flooded my mind of another night, when the glorious hues of an island sunset bathed our naked, straining bodies in pastel shades. Remembering, I felt myself melting in to him, just as I had then. I sighed when Jack released my wrist and settled his hands on the wideness of my waist; not an embrace, but an intimacy nevertheless.
Sandwiched between us, the baby squirmed, kicking at its father.
Jack pulled back only far enough to look down at the bulge of cloth and hidden flesh between us. With a tenderness that nearly broke my heart, his hands followed the expanded contours of my body, from thickened waist across distended flesh, exploring the roundness of my abdomen. He cupped the baby in strong, strangely gentle hands. The baby wiggled and stretched for him. It danced as if with joy. Jack's face filled with emotions I would never have imaged in a pirate.
"Jack ..."
"Shhhh." He looked up, and I saw myself reflected in his eyes. He leaned forward, his mouth brushing mine, his hands still holding our baby. Against my lips, Jack whispered, "I shall send you a portion of gold every year for the child's upkeep. Should our dear William become so affluent as to make the gold unnecessary, you will save each portion as you receive it, and then give the whole of it to the child when he comes of age. Savvy?"
"Alright," I agreed a little breathlessly.
His voice was so soft, his tone so seductive. How could this man affect me thusly when I loved my husband so dearly? It was wrong, I knew that. I was a well-bred lady, not some dirty trollop from the streets, and well- bred ladies were simply not prone to the lustful impulses that plagued women of lower birth. By blood and heritage, I was immune to such lascivious inclinations. Besides which, Will Turner was my life, my world! I was the luckiest woman on earth to have him for my husband. But oh, the warmth of Jack Sparrow's hands, the taste of his lips ... it was surely some spell the pirate had cast, I realized; some romantic glamour he had set upon me, just as he had on the island, for otherwise I would never behave with such impiety.
I did not love him. I could never love such a lawless, depraved individual. I knew that beyond doubt because I loved my husband so very much, and what I felt for Jack Sparrow was nothing like what I felt for Will. This ... this ~passion~, this ~burning~ ... this was what Will and I shared in the sanctity of our marriage bed. Why then did I feel it for this disreputable man whom I did not love? A disturbing thought intruded: Was it ... could it be ... was ~this~ what some referred to as raw animal lust? Could I be so sinful as to feel ~that~?
His hands caught the baby's thrusts of elbows and feet. Still softly, still sweetly, mouth lingering against mine yet never opening to deepen caress into kiss, Jack whispered, "And should I find, Elizabeth, that you are raisin' my child improperly, I shall make all haste to come here and snatch him away from you."
I drew back with a start, my eyes wide and staring, all my dilemmas of love and lust forgotten. Suddenly, the fluttering of my heart meant something else entirely.
"What ... what did you say?" I whispered. At least, I think I spoke it aloud. I must have, for the pirate answered me.
He stared into my eyes, and I saw nothing of humor in his, no teasing. No cruelty either. Jack Sparrow was deadly serious.
"You heard me, Mrs. Turner." Sparrow's hands fell away from my belly, ending intimacies both real and imagined. Still too close. I took one small, stumbling step back from him. One trembling hand lifted to cover my madly thrumming heart.
"You can't. Jack, you ~wouldn't~."
His eyes narrowed and I saw in them, in his expression, a welter of emotions I could not fully identify. Love, but not for me. Pride. A determined possessiveness. Quietly, he explained, "My oldest son was given to me by his mother. She didn't want him growing up on the streets of Tortuga, so I took him. My youngest boy I took when I found him beaten bloody raw by the mother's new husband; I killed the man before I left with the boy. My daughter I took when I found out her mother planned to auction her off in a brothel after she got her first blood. She only turned seven last month."
"My God," I whispered, horrified. Then another disturbing thought occurred. I frowned, "Surely you don't keep them on the ship?"
"My children won't grow up to be pirates, Elizabeth. Not unless they have the calling. No, I've placed them in a convent school in Hispaniola. I've ensured they'll receive all the good care and proper education that I never had."
"And do you see them, Jack? Do you visit them?" Suddenly, that seemed a very important thing to know.
He dropped his gaze, again studying the now blessedly quiescent life within me; the baby had fallen asleep. "Every chance I get," he admitted almost sadly, "though not as often as I'd like." His eyes found mine again. He said decisively, "I may be a depraved and lawless man, as they say I am, Elizabeth. But I take care of my own. Savvy?"
His implication included more than the mere issuance of a yearly stipend of gold. Behind the safety of pride and formality, I replied, "Well, you certainly have nothing to worry about here, Captain Sparrow. This child will be loved and well cared for."
"Will it?" Jack's tone grew terse, almost snappish. He removed the careful distance I had put between us by stepping forward. "You have proven yourself as disreputable as I am, Mrs. Turner. Peas in a pod, remember, darlin'? I want to make sure my child will be safe in your care."
"What?!" I exclaimed somewhat shrilly.
His tone was sarcastic, accusatory. "There you were braggin' about all your high class propriety, spoutin' off about knowin' right from wrong better'n old Jack. Yet findin' yourself alone with a man for the very first time in your prim and proper life, you did not hesitate to open your thighs."
My face flushed scarlet. I could not look at him. "The circumstances ..."
"Do not matter," he interrupted brusquely. "The fact remains that you did it, quite willingly. And still persist in layin' the blame for it on me, I'm sure."
Haughtily: "Babies are not made by only one person, Captain Sparrow."
"No, Mrs. Turner. They are not."
Why would the flush not leave my face? It felt like a flaming banner proclaiming shame.
"Do you think Norrington suspected you were barterin' used goods in exchange for William's rescue?"
I stared at him, mute.
"Not that I blame you, luv. You have a tool and you use it to your advantage. Its no more than what most women do. No more than what any good pirate would do."
"You're wrong," I sighed numbly.
Jack ran the back of one finger along my cheek. "And even now," he murmured, "married and heavy with child as you are, I do believe you would give yourself to me again should I ask you."
I jerked away from him. "I would ~not~," I spat.
"But I'm not asking, luv."
I sputtered a vastly pointless, "Good then."
Jack Sparrow continued relentlessly. "You've lied to your husband. I can only guess at the measures you took to ensure he believed the babe was his." He glanced down at the baby, then up again, almost surly. "And when the little one comes and William sees its none of his, what will you tell him then? A truth he can no longer accept? Or new lies to pad the old?"
"How ~dare~ you speak to me this way!"
"I don't think William will leave you; he's too damned honorable for that. But I doubt he'll enjoy knowin' he was cuckolded and lied to by the woman he loves. And I doubt he'll be happy playin' daddy to a child he knows isn't his."
My heart hammered so hard I thought it would burst forth from my chest. I felt the heat of tears stinging my eyes, and even I wasn't certain if they were born of fury or guilt. I looked down and away so Jack wouldn't see them. I murmured tightly, "And so you would steal away my child. To protect it from ... ~me~?"
"Only if I have to."
My fluttering heart slowed to a dull, leaden weight. It was my turn to change the subject. Or ... maybe I didn't. "The child might look like me, Jack. I am the mother, after all."
I heard Jack's sigh: heavy, resigned, strangely weary. It was a sound lacking all previous animosity. Quietly, almost tenderly, he said, "My father was a bloody Spaniard, luv. My mother was half Italian and half French. There is very little chance the child will be as pale as you need him to be."
Desolation encompassed me body, mind and soul. I saw myself through the clarity of a pirate's eyes and no longer cared that tears spilled openly down my cheeks. "I'm lost," I breathed tremulously. I looked into kohl- rimmed eyes dark as obsidian. "Oh, Jack, I'm ~lost~."
His smile was gentle. He wiped the tears away with a calloused thumb. "Nah," he told me. "You can still turn pirate, Bethie." A pointed glance at my girth. "Though we can't call you 'Slim' anymore, can we?"
I smiled, just a little, through my tears.
"I'm back!" Grinning broadly, Will walked into the parlor still wearing his overcoat. Spliced between his fingers were the narrow necks of four rum bottles. Neither of us had heard him enter the house. Now, seeing Jack and I standing so near one another, seeing the tears marking my face, his smile abruptly vanished. He stopped in mid-stride and frowned at us. "What's wrong? What's happened? Jack?"
Jack Sparrow's smile was immediate, and as sincerely sunny as a bright summer day. "Nuthin's wrong, mate." He left me in favor of Will and the newly arrived rum. Snatching one of the bottles from my husband's hand, uncorking it, he said, "I was just tellin' Bethie about the sad demise of your grandparents." He took a quick swallow, swiped his mouth dry, sighed contentedly, and glanced back my way. "Not my fault breedin' women can't hear a sad tale without goin' all wet and weepy on a man, eh?"
"It was a very sad story," I quickly temporized, blotting my face dry. Seeing Will my heart shattered into a thousand jagged shards.
All unknowing, Will smiled and shook his head dismissively. "I knew my grandparents, Jack. They each died peacefully in their sleep while I was still living in England."
"Not ~those~ grandparents! I meant Bootstrap's mom and dad."
Having placed the three remaining bottles on the bureau, Will looked up curiously. "You knew my father's parents?"
"Nah, but Bill told me about 'em almost as often as he told me about his bloody whelp." Jack smiled charmingly. "Did you know Bill's folks were from Italy?"
"Italy? Really?"
"Aye. Black and swarthy as Spaniards, that's how he described them." Jack glanced in a wall mirror, briefly admiring his own appearance, saying, "Pity Bill didn't inherit their dark good looks." With the hand not holding the bottle, he clapped Will fondly on the back. "But with luck, maybe your little one will have better luck, eh? I swear Bill Turner was an ugly son of a bitch."
Will frowned. "Everyone says I look just like him."
Silence, while Jack made a great show of fast thinking. "Yes, well um ... Bethie!" he exclaimed suddenly, striding energetically toward me, taking my arm in his hand. "What say we share this sad tale of William's Italian grandparents with him so he can cry too? And where the bloody ~hell~ is my supper?!"
Of course I knew what Jack was trying to do. I silently thanked him for it.
... continued ...
