Chapter 5: Revelations

Harry awoke with a groan, dizzy and sick, and opened her eyes to find herself abed in her room at Island House, looking into the concerned faces of Rachel and Miriam Lightfoot, hovering over her. "What happened?" she asked, and then pressed her lips together, willing her stomach to settle.

Miriam placed a cool cloth on Harry's forehead, and the Dowager Duchess sighed a little. She let her eyes drift closed again.

"You fainted," said Rachel, bluntly.

Harry frowned, and said, "I never faint!"

"Well, you never had a baby before either. First time for everything."

Harry's eyes flew open. "What?"

Rachel nodded, a grim little smile tipping the corners of her mouth.

"I can't be! You must be mistaken," said Harry, firmly, her brows twitching together. "I was married for two years, and there was never any sign of such a thing!"

"That so?" said Rachel, in a voice laced with sarcasm. "Well, all I've got to say to that is Jack Sparrow ain't any sixty-year-old Duke!"

Harry stared at her, absorbing this home truth, then looked rather pleadingly at Miriam.

Miriam shook her head. "I'm afraid Rachel's right, my dear. Although she could have been a little gentler in the telling." She gave the housekeeper a look of mild admonishment.

Rachel gave a slight 'hmmph', and began to scold her mistress, saying, "It's best you stop ignoring what's been under your nose these past three weeks, Lady Harry! Why do you think you've been feelin' sick in the mornings? You need to stop tryin' to learn every job on the plantation and start thinkin' about yourself, and especially about that baby! Makin' soap on a hot day like this! Why I came close to faintin' myself!"

"But I can't be!" Harry said again, but weakly, finally starting to acknowledge that it might be true. And if it was! Oh, what on earth would Jack say? And her brother would likely be ripe for Bedlam when she told him. He would not understand at all how it was with her and Jack. Jack. Oh lord. "I…I never thought…" she began, but her voice trailed off.

"No," said Miriam, sadly. "But usually one cannot…ah…play with fire, without being burned."

Harry looked slightly insulted, then filled with consternation, and then incredulity. "A baby…" she said, wonder in her voice. Oddly, a little frisson of happiness swept through her. She looked at Rachel, and a bemused smile touched her lips. "Really?"

Rachel nodded, her own expression softening. "Things'll work themselves out in due time, don't you worry," she said, her tone gentler now. "But like I said, you need to take care of yourself and that little one. No more heavy work around here, and you rest in the heat of the day, you hear?"

"Yes," said Harry slowly. Her eyes lost their focus and her head began to whirl with visions of Jack, her brother, and a tiny, dark-haired creature wrapped in soft blankets.

"We'll leave you to think and rest now, my dear," said Miriam gently. "But, as Rachel said, don't worry! Everything will be fine."

o-o-o

Two weeks later, Harry was aboard the Bonny Lass, the forty-foot ketch that had belonged to her late cousin. Accompanied by Giles Lightfoot and his older son, Davis, and by several of the soon-to-be-former slaves from the plantation, Harry was sailing to Port Royal to stock up with needed supplies, and to visit with Elizabeth and Will, and, less happily, her brother.

She had quite decided not to tell Weatherby about the baby at this juncture: after all, there was nothing to be done about it, and it was certainly not evident as yet. Rachel thought she was likely about two months along now. Seven to go, then. Plenty of time to inform her staid sibling that he would shortly enjoy the felicity of becoming an Uncle. In any case, she really much preferred that Jack be told first.

Well, not first, precisely. Everyone on the island seemed to have a good idea of what was toward already! She did not think Rachel or Miriam had spoken of it, but after all, she had fainted away in front of a dozen people, and was now obediently heeding Rachel's advice about resting more in the afternoons. The kitchen staff had likely noticed her lack of appetite as well. And apparently the residents of St. Claire had gleaned the identity of the father, too: one small girl had come up to her and asked her if the new baby would wear beads in its hair, like Captain Jack! Harry had been rendered quite speechless by this—not an easy feat! But she had been spared further embarrassment by the mother of the girl, who had shushed the child and apologized, and quickly took her away.

Well, it hardly mattered. The situation would soon be quite obvious to everyone. But she had also decided that Rachel and Miriam were right: all would be well. She would tell Jack, but she would assure him that this complication would make no difference in the nature of their relationship: she would not allow him to compromise the freedom he had so recently regained. She was a wealthy woman, surrounded by people she was rapidly growing to know and love, and there would be no difficulty in providing a good home for the child. There was of course the stigma of illegitimacy to be considered, and it did upset her that her little one would be saddled with such a burden. As for herself, well, she was the Dowager Duchess of Wyndham! This evidence of moral laxity would not lead society to consider her entirely lost to decency, as would be the fate of a woman of lesser rank. Folk would likely just consider her conduct typical of the nobility--a bit daft, but no more than could be expected of one born with a silver spoon in her mouth.

She thought these things, and then wondered if she was indeed daft. After all, one was capable of justifying any sort of behavior to oneself, if one gave the matter enough convoluted thought. Moreover, she had an unpleasant feeling that Jack's rather unpiratical streak of chivalry would impede his acceptance of her logic. But she would deal with that as the problem arose.

In the meantime, she rested and enjoyed the clouds and wind and the light on the sea, and the company of her companions, and tried very hard not to worry about things that could not be helped.

o-o-o

Governor Swann entered his sister's room without ceremony. "Harry! What in blazes do you mean by traipsing through the town dressed in a man's suit of clothing? It's the outside of enough!"

"Oh, the devil! Who on earth recognized me?" exclaimed his sister, trying to fasten a necklace of diamonds and amethysts at the back of her neck.

"Here, let me do that," said Weatherby, taking the two ends of the necklace from her. "It was Mrs. Tolliver who saw you—a dreadful old Tabby, but her word counts in the town. And, by the way, how many times must I remind you that the habit of swearing is a most unappealing trait in a female?"

"I shall strive to remember it the next time I wish to appeal to you," said Harry, tartly. "This is a fine greeting, I must say! I have not been here above an hour and already you are scolding!"

"There!" Weatherby said, having succeeded in fastening the necklace. He looked up into the mirror at his little sister. A look of combined hauteur, mulishness, and amusement animated the pretty face, and Weatherby's heart warmed in spite of his irritation. "If you would but conduct yourself with the propriety which our parents, and then George and I tried to instill in you…! But your behavior has gone from bad to worse since your marriage, and has been particularly execrable since coming out to the Caribbean!"

Harry's mouth twisted as she tried not to laugh. Lord! If he only knew! But she said, "You are very right. Perhaps I should not assume I am welcome here, where all is ordered with such perfect decorum."

Weatherby rolled his eyes a bit. "Harry, don't be a fool. Of course you are welcome here at any time. But really, you must understand that your exalted title does not give you license to ride roughshod over convention! I know it seems as though our standards are more relaxed than those of London, but this is also a much smaller arena for your activities and any little deviation is noticed, and reflects badly on all of us."

Harry sighed, quite tired of this conversation already. "Very well. I shall strive to conduct myself with the insipidity you seem to desire. It's a wonder Elizabeth isn't a dead bore, considering your notions of correctness."

Weatherby lifted a brow, and eyed his sister narrowly. "Yes, well, you certainly aren't a dead bore, and I pretty much had the raising of you, too. Likely I was too lenient with both of you, but it's late days to repine on that score. Elizabeth and Will are coming over from the house. Are you ready to come down to dinner?"

Harry rose from the vanity bench and turned to her brother. She was a vision in pale lavender and lace. "I'm ready. In spite of your greeting, or lack thereof, I am happy to see you again." She smiled a little at him.

His expression softened, and he embraced her briefly. "And I you, my dear." He released her and looked her over. "I must say, your appearance at present leaves nothing to be desired! That's a beautiful get-up. Paris, again?"

"Yes, of course. You don't think the color makes me look peeked?" She smoothed the front of the dress.

"With those roses in your cheeks? I should say not! You turned out a great beauty at least, even if you are a dreadful hoyden."

"Weatherby! You will turn my head with such effusive compliments!" she said, taking his arm.

o-o-o

Will and Elizabeth were waiting in the hall, Elizabeth looking lovelier than ever, and Will looking happy but a little uncomfortable in the formal attire required at his father-in-law's dinners. Harry embraced them with unalloyed joy.

"You look as though married life agrees with both of you!" she commented, and smiled to see them glance at each other in agreement, Elizabeth blushing rosily.

Weatherby eyed the couple with some pride and said, "They seem to be getting on quite famously, and Will is becoming most successful in his business already. He works very hard!"

"As do I, Father!" exclaimed Elizabeth. She said to her Aunt, "We have one servant, but even so I have learnt a great deal about keeping our little house, and even cooking! Roberts, Father's chef, has been kind enough to teach me."

Harry asked Will, "And are these culinary adventures to your liking?"

Will smiled. "Most of the time. But we have recourse to the Governor's table if disaster occurs, which it has on a couple of occasions."

Harry laughed.

Elizabeth pouted a bit, though her eyes twinkled. "Well, you've no notion how difficult it is! I do the very best I can!"

Will's eyes smiled and he picked up her hand and kissed it. Then he said, soulfully, "I love every dish you prepare, sweetheart. Even the burnt ones."

The laughter occasioned by this was interrupted by Beck, who announced that dinner was ready. The company retired to the dining room.

It was a long and lively dinner, with several courses consisting of many dishes, of which the Dowager Duchess partook very sparingly. Conversation was light, though Harry had some difficulty keeping from mentioning the Black Pearl's visit to St. Claire Island and all its attendant excitement. She kept the conversation focused more on the newlyweds, and learned a great deal about their degree of happiness both from what was said and what was not. It was obvious they were very much in love.

Finally, Weatherby pushed his chair back. "I must see to some paperwork, now. Elizabeth, I daresay you and Will would like to show your aunt your little home."

"Yes! Will you come with us to see it, Aunt?"

"With the greatest pleasure!"

The night was lit with stars and the air was soft and scented with flowers and greenery as they crossed the gardens. A little gravel-lined path crunched under their feet as they walked through the stand of tropical trees to where the Turner residence stood, with its attendant view of the sea. There was a light in the window, and the new servant, Emmaline, a red-faced but capable young woman in her mid-twenties, was there to greet them. Emmaline sank in a low curtsey when she was introduced to Harry, and her face reddened even more at the Dowager Duchess's friendly greeting. Then she said to Elizabeth, "I'll just go get some tea, ma'am," and scurried off to the kitchen, with a parting look of admiration directed at Harry.

"Well!" said Elizabeth, a little surprised. "You have certainly impressed her!"

"Yes," said her Aunt, with an airy wave of her hand. "It must be my aura of elegance and sophistication." Then she spoiled the effect of this by giving a slight snort as she broke into laughter.

Elizabeth laughed too, but said, "Well you are elegant and sophisticated!"

"And a complete rogue!" Will smiled.

"Yes, that's what Jack thinks," Harry said, "and he should know, being one himself!"

"You've seen him, then?"

"Yes, I have, and I'll tell you about it. But first show me the house."

Elizabeth took her Aunt all over the little house, pointing out its many comforts and luxuries, and in particular the touches she had given it herself that made it a home.

"It is a charming place!" declared Harry. "You are very fortunate, my loves. Many young couples are together for years before they acquire a residence of their own. Do you mind living in such close proximity to the Governor's Mansion?"

"Oh, no!" exclaimed Elizabeth.

"It's worked out quite well, actually," agreed Will. "Although I'd like to be able to visit with her during the day, when I'm at work at the smithy. But she comes to see me most days."

"Oh, does she, then?" smiled Harry, knowingly.

"To bring him lunch!" Elizabeth said, but then she blushed. "And…other things."

"Particularly other things, I've no doubt." The Dowager Duchess nodded sagely.

"Speaking of other things," said Will, his eyes glinting, "how's Jack?"

Harry laughed. "Touché! You are something of a rogue yourself, Will. Jack is well, or was the last time I saw him. It's been several weeks since we parted, but the Black Pearl stayed nearly a month at St. Claire."

"A month! How is this?" exclaimed Will, surprised.

"Let us sit down in your cozy drawing room and I will tell you about it."

Harry was a good storyteller, and there was a great deal of both commiseration and laughter in the little room as the tale of Jack's stay was related.

"Jack struck down with chicken pox!" Elizabeth finally said, very much amused. "Oh, I do look forward to teasing him about it!"

"But you say the Pearl was going after a Spanish treasure ship?" Will said, sounding a little concerned.

"Yes. It's been a month now, so perhaps we shall get word of him soon," said Harry. "At least…well, I hope so."

"I suppose you do, Aunt," said Elizabeth, now full of sympathy. "If it worries us that he has embarked on so hazardous a venture, how much more must you feel!"

"Yes. And it's…it's not only that." Harry looked up at them, suddenly hesitant. "I…ah…have some news for him." She smiled crookedly at their sudden look of concerned puzzlement, and said, rather bluntly, "I'm increasing."

Will's eyes widened in shock, but it was a moment before the significance of the cryptic phrase was born in on Elizabeth. Then she breathed, "Aunt! You cannot mean…a baby?"

Harry's crooked smile widened, and she nodded. Seeing Will's appalled expression, she said apologetically, "I know it is quite mad of me, but I can't help being happy about it. Though what Jack will say, I can't imagine!"

"How long…?" stammered Elizabeth, looking at her aunt's still slim figure.

"Almost two months now, we think. I won't show much yet awhile. But it's quite true, for all that."

"Oh, Aunt!" Elizabeth said, dismayed. "Does my father know?"

Harry sighed. "No," she said, "and I beg you to say nothing. I may tell him before we sail home in a week, but then again I may wait. There is nothing to be done, after all, and it will only upset him. I want to have a pleasant stay, this time."

"But Aunt! Don't you think…I mean…"

Will completed her thought, saying seriously, "Will you marry Jack?"

"Marry him!" said Harry in surprise. "No! I cannot imagine he would want to, and I would not ask it of him."

Elizabeth said, distressed, "But Aunt! You love him!"

"Yes, of course. And he loves me. But usually that has little to do with marriage, my dear. No, I told you before: he was not meant to be married to anyone but his ship and the sea. I knew that before ever we began, and it hasn't changed in spite of our growing love. No, I will be content if he merely visits us on St. Claire occasionally. I am quite determined to make my home there. Everything will be fine, believe me. Even Weatherby will come 'round eventually."

Will eyed his flighty relative, and said skeptically, "Jack's ideas on the subject may not be quite in alignment with your own, Aunt Harry."

Harry straightened, and said briskly, "Well, he will come 'round too. I never meant to be a burden to him, and, as I have a great many personal resources, I don't need to be: not to him, nor indeed to anyone."

"But the child will be…" Elizabeth broke off, unable to say the words.

"A bastard?" Harry supplied, sadly. "I know. But there is nothing that can be done about it. I could not bring myself to marry again." She looked at the pair, who looked very dismayed. "Don't worry!" Harry assured them. "Everything will work out as it should!"

Emmaline came in to refresh the tea things then, so that conversation shifted back to less volatile subjects.

Harry took her leave shortly thereafter, pleading weariness, which was certainly true: she found herself needing more sleep all the time, now. But her young relatives discussed and worried over the difficult situation far into the night.

o-o-o

The next afternoon, Harry was coming in from a shopping expedition in the town when Beck told her solemnly that the Governor would like to see her in the library.

"Oh, indeed!" Harry said lightly, though inwardly she stiffened with wariness. She had endured many a summons to the library at Weatherby's behest in her girlhood, and knew that such an interview would likely be unpleasant. He had never beaten her, of course—witness him still drawing breath, which would not else have been the case!—but he had a devilish sharp tongue when he felt inclined to use it, and knew her well enough to be able to draw the desired response from her if she had erred in some way. Over the years she had grown more aware of his tactics and knew how to shield herself more effectively, but she had been relieved when she had married and was no longer subject to his notions of good behavior. And she suspected he was just as grateful to be rid of her!

Now, however…well, what could it be? Except…but no! How could he have found out? She contemplated asking Beck to tell her brother she would be down shortly, just to put Weatherby in his place a bit, but then abruptly decided against it, curiosity and a desire to be done with it getting the better of her. So she said, "Very well. Thank you, Beck," and went down the hall and into the library.

She closed the door behind her. Weatherby was standing near the window, looking out, his hands behind his back, but at the sound of the door closing he turned toward her. He did not look angry. He looked cold, which was a great deal worse.

"What is it?" she demanded, determined to draw some emotion from him.

"A rumor has come to my ears, sister: servants gossip, maybe, but very disturbing nonetheless. The rumor has it that you are with child."

Oh dear, she thought. Well, there was nothing for it but to brazen it out. She steeled herself inwardly, and said, "Where did you hear this?"

"Never mind where I heard it!" he snapped. "Is it true?"

"Yes, it is true," she said simply.

"My God, Harry," he said in a near whisper. Then sharply, "Who is the father?"

Who was the father! Well, at least that bit of information was still hidden from him. "That is none of your concern, brother," she said, lifting her chin a bit.

"None of my…Harry! Have you gone mad? You tell me you are expecting a child when you've been a widow these eight years, and you tell me it is none of my concern?"

"My widowhood has nothing to do with the issue. I am of age, and of independent means. I am sorry if you believe it reflects badly on the Swann name, but there is nothing I can do about that at this point. I will not tell you the name of the father. Now are we quite through?"

Her brother was almost rendered speechless by her calmly defiant statement. Finally, he managed to get out, "This is beyond belief! How far along are you?"

"Two months," said Harry.

"Two months," repeated her brother. "Then it is someone from that island of yours!"

Harry sighed. "It is not. His identity is none of your concern. I was not ravished, Weatherby. I was full willing, though I had no idea this would happen—Charles had failed to get me with child and I was with him for two years! But now that it is fact, I do not regret it, nor will I marry because of it, neither the father, nor any man. If you wish to disassociate yourself from us, I will be saddened of course, but I will understand. I can pack my things and go this instant, in fact."

"Don't be absurd," said her brother. "As well tell the town crier! My God. What a devilish coil!"

"It is not a devilish coil. It is a baby. My baby. Your niece or nevvie. And the child will not be inherently base because of my sin. He or she will be the darling of my heart, as Elizabeth is to you, and I will do the best I can to be a good mother. And that is all that needs to be said. If you permit me to stay, I thank you, but I'll relieve you of my presence at dinner tonight, I believe. If a tray could be sent up, I would be grateful: I have the headache a little. Good night."

And with that, she left the room, and Weatherby Swann stared at the door through which she'd gone, quite stunned.

o-o-o

A half hour later, the door opened and Beck announced in sonorous tones, "Commodore James Norrington."

"The devil!" muttered Swann, who'd been sitting behind his desk, his head in his hands. Beck should have known he was not at home to visitors! He looked up as the Commodore entered the room.

The Commodore stopped, and looked at the Governor with some concern. When Beck had shut the door again, Norrington said, "Governor Swann! Is anything amiss?"

"Oh, no! Nothing amiss!" Weatherby said, with withering sarcasm. Then he gathered himself, and said, "No. Forgive me. Just a bit…ah…blue-deviled, so to speak. What can I do for you James?"

Norrington said slowly, "I've brought the latest dispatches from London for you to read, sir."

"Have you? Well, just set 'em on the table there. I appreciate you bringing them up yourself."

"Governor Swann," said Norrington firmly, "I can see that there is something troubling you greatly. If there is anything I can do to help, in any way…"

Swann looked at the Commodore, and his eyes slowly narrowed. "You took Harry back to St. Claire," he said, slowly.

"Yes. What of it?"

Swann frowned. "This conversation must go no further than this room, do you understand me, James?"

Norrington looked a little taken aback, but nodded and said, "Yes. Of course."

Swann asked him, "Did my sister speak to you…did she ever indicate to you that she had a…romantic involvement?"

Norrington stared. "Why do you ask this, Governor?"

Swann sighed. "Because half an hour ago she was standing where you are now, confirming that she is with child, and refusing to identify the blackguard who got her that way."

"Oh, good God!" said Norrington, as stunned as the Governor had been. But then his countenance hardened. "Blackguard indeed!" he said harshly.

Swann's brow creased suddenly. "You know who it is?" he demanded.

Norrington looked at the Governor, hesitating only a moment before saying, "I believe so. It is the pirate, Jack Sparrow."

Swann stood up and stared in disbelief. "What? How can that be possible? What makes you say such an outlandish thing?"

"Do you not remember Sir John Wainfleet, your sister's friend, at the wedding? That was Sparrow, got up in disguise. She knew it, as did Elizabeth and Will, as though it was planned between them all." Swann only stared, speechless, so Norrington continued. "And there is something else: when I offered the three my escort aboard the Dauntless, after the incident of the Bride's Auction and the subsequent visit to St. Claire and its attendant adventure, your sister expressed her thanks to Sparrow in rather too warm a manner."

"What did she do?" Swann demanded, all kinds of unbelievable scenarios leaping to his agitated mind.

"She…ah…embraced him and kissed him."

"Kissed him!"

Norrington nodded, and added, "Rather thoroughly."

"She kissed him!" Swann said again. "I cannot credit it! How on earth…how could she lower herself in such a way!"

Norrington said, bitterly, "Governor Swann, Sparrow has a way about him that makes nearly everyone forget what he really is: a blackguard, and a scoundrel of the first order. And, unfortunately, women are particularly susceptible to his charm."

Swann stared at the Commodore for a long minute. Then he said, in a voice tight with barely controlled rage, "I want that man brought to me, brought here! I want to see Harry's face when she sees him. That will tell me the truth of the matter! Will you help me do this, James? Will you bring me this pirate?"

Norrington nodded, grimly, and said, "I will!"