Disclaimer: "Pirates of the Caribbean" belong to Disney.
A/N: Thank you, Alteng, for reviewing the previous chapter! And thank you, Ewa, my friend, for all your help and support.
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II
When Elizabeth and Estella sneaked out of the house, it was already three o'clock. Elizabeth was a little nervous. She didn't want to take Estella with her, but it was too suspicious for Elizabeth to go out without a chaperone; Mlle Dou was living rather far away and there was a chance that Elizabeth would be seen and recognized by somebody while walking alone through the streets of Port Royal. Estella's presence was proof in itself that there was nothing strange in Elizabeth's escapade. Moreover, the maid was the only person who could lead her to Mlle Dou's house. Elizabeth promised her solemnly that nobody would ever know about her source of information. It wasn't enough, however, because Estella was clearly scared by Will's concepts of house discipline and Elizabeth had to reinforce her promise by a new bonnet and a pair of stockings. Estella finally agreed to go out with her mistress, but she was immensely confused and distressed. She asked Elizabeth to abandon her plans almost with tears in her eyes.
"I beg of you, Miss Elizabeth," she pleaded. She was stubbornly calling Elizabeth 'miss'; it was the only resistance against Will that was left to the servants. "You don't have any idea what foul creatures those women can be. It is improper for a lady only to think about them. And you are going to her house uninvited! You expose yourself to every insult possible... and you don't even have a man with you that could defend you!"
Elizabeth sighed.
"You forget that I was kidnapped by Captain Barbossa's pirates, and I was exposed to much more than insults, yet I came back safely. I met people much more dangerous than a woman of easy virtue that can be won in a card game."
"But Miss Elizabeth, the pirates didn't want to harm you because they needed you. And begging your pardon, there will never be such hatred between a man and a woman as between a woman and a woman."
Elizabeth nodded. She was very well aware of the feelings that the females of Port Royal had towards her. Their animosity might have had different reasons, but it united them nicely. Some of them hated her from the beginning, just because she was the Governor's daughter, or because she was beautiful and rich and young. It was fun to watch them, for they were usually trying to worm themselves into her favour; they were mostly mothers of marriageable girls. As for their daughters, they hated Elizabeth, because James Norrington loved her so much that he couldn't even think about other girls as girls and would discuss mostly Navy matters and weather with them. The girls refused to share his interests, but they swore that they adored him, and were bewildered when it became evident that Norrington could not forget Elizabeth, even after she married Will, and didn't immediately run after some consolation. The girls and their mothers conjured some very artful gossip about Elizabeth having been, in fact, dishonoured and violated by the pirates, being too ashamed to become a wife of a proper gentleman like Norrington, and therefore giving herself up to her newly-discovered bad instincts by choosing Turner. This idea was a little bit altered by the third group of women, namely girls from the common families, who were in love with Will. They insisted that the Governor and the Commodore had bought Will with a vast amount of money, begging him to marry Elizabeth and to save her honour. Neither group could see that Norrington was unhappy without Elizabeth, Will was happy with her, and Governor Swann was generally out of it because of Isabella Dou's charms. But it was perfectly understandable - how could all those poor women notice anything, being so occupied with their own dreams and hopes? Elizabeth didn't pay any attention to their helpless hatred. They had to be polite with her, and it was a constant source of amusement for Elizabeth to observe their poorly veiled rage and fumes at the parties and receptions. What could they do to her? And what could this little Mlle Dou do to her?
"Ah, Estella, I know what you mean, but what could she do to me? She is nobody. And she is pregnant. Do you think she could hit me or anything?"
"Oh, Lord, what are you talking about, Miss Elizabeth? She is to hit you? I would kill the wretch on the spot! No, no. I was thinking about her being rude to you and your dear mother. Those women don't have any decency, any manners, any respect for anything. And when they are pregnant, they are mad like cats. They fear nothing..."
Elizabeth sighed again. She was beginning to feel tired.
"Have you ever met her?"
"God forbid," Estella exclaimed with righteous indignation.
"If you are so scared, I have no right to force you to go with me. You are free to go back."
"Oh, Miss Elizabeth, how could you think I would leave you alone with such a creature? Never, never! I am going with you."
Elizabeth smiled; she recalled the bonnet and the stockings. For her own part, she didn't feel nervous in the slightest, the whole idea of visiting her father's mistress being only a pale echo of her past adventures. No, she didn't miss them. They had cured her of any girlish dreams about pirates that she had ever had. She still shuddered to think about the horrible battle that had nearly cost Will his life, about the ghostly Black Pearl with her ragged sails in the moonlight, about her impish crew... although she would sometimes think about her devilish captain. She knew that he had taken a fancy to her, she had seen it in his eyes; he was a man, not a boy like Will Turner, and he was a captain with no one but God above him, not a soldier who had to obey his superiors, like James Norrington...
Elizabeth closed her eyes for a moment. She didn't dare to think about James; not yet. She felt more than guilty about deceiving him and then spurning him so mercilessly in public - she felt that her choice could, in fact, prove wrong in the future. She was scared to think about it, she was extremely anxious. Now she quickened her pace so that Estella almost had to run.
When they got closer to Mlle Dou's house, Estella's resolution wore thin. She slowed her steps and tried to hide herself behind Elizabeth's back in some comical effort, and it nearly made Elizabeth laugh, wiping her sad thoughts away. How could she be sad, however, on such a warm afternoon, with the wind bringing over the sea breeze and the sweet scent of bougainvillea and jasmine?
Elizabeth stopped on the street suddenly, as if she felt all this beauty for the first time. She looked up at the cloudless sky, and then to the side - she was standing next to the big garden that looked unkempt and wild, full of all sorts of flowers that were bravely overcoming the crushed walls and pouring their red, orange and pink garlands on the street. An abandoned house was looming far in the depths of this luscious jungle, hopeless and pathetic with its shallow holes of unglazed windows, like a sign of defeat surrounded by the triumphant forces of nature.
"Miss Elizabeth, it's here," Estella whispered touching Elizabeth's arm.
Elizabeth shuddered.
"Here?"
"Oh, no, not here! This is an abandoned house. That one," Estella said.
She pointed discreetly at a small villa with its shutters wide open. The house looked tidy and rather new, its walls dazzlingly white, its tiled roof still maintaining a lively shade of red. So this was where the Governor's money and providence were going, thought Elizabeth bitterly, when they approached the gate with two bunches of fragile, poisonous angel's trumpets flowering on its both sides.
Estella took up the door-knocker, but Elizabeth stopped her with a quick gesture. Somebody in the house was playing an odd, very lively, definitely not English melody; and an even stranger thing was that Elizabeth couldn't tell what the instrument was. It had a sound similar to lute or mandolin, but much deeper, and the player was sometimes tapping the box with an open hand. Elizabeth was sure that she had heard the melody before, but couldn't recognize it, for the interpretation was really confusing. She felt a sudden urge to put an end to it, and before Estella could even move, she grabbed the door-knocker herself and made as much noise as she could.
The music did not stop, though, and Elizabeth thought that nobody in the house heard the knocking. She was about to repeat it, but the gate opened suddenly; neither Elizabeth nor her maid heard the steps. Estella hardly had time to push herself before her mistress, so that Elizabeth wouldn't have to talk to Mlle Dou's servant.
They expected a nimble young maid, or maybe somebody around Estella's age, but it was an older woman, quite short, seemingly in her fifties, dressed very modestly in grey, with her hair bound into a little chignon, tight like a child's fist. Her look was severe and reserved, her lips forming a thin long line; it was very strange to find somebody so uptight in a courtesan's house, but it occurred to Elizabeth that her father probably had placed this warden in the house to keep a sharp eye on his mistress... or maybe not, maybe she was a procuress and just knew how to look like a respectful person.
The old woman didn't say anything, so Estella had to make the first move.
"Please, tell your mistress, that the Governor's daughter, Mrs Elizabeth Turner, is here and wishes to speak to her," she said with great dignity.
To Elizabeth's great surprise, the woman's expression changed into something between joy and horror. She blinked violently several times, clasped her hands, then without a word, only with a convulsive gesture of her head, invited them into the house. Following her, Elizabeth saw that she was limping a little.
The guests were shown into a small, poorly lit parlour. From that particular slight smell of dust and dampness residing here, Elizabeth could tell that the mistress of the house probably didn't like the room and didn't use it much. It was cleanly swept, but it lacked warmth and the touch of life. The furniture apparently wasn't new - it might have belonged to another courtesan who left Port Royal long ago. There were some random paintings of flowers and birds on the walls, blackened and fly-blown already; the most spectacular thing here was a little virginal placed near the left window, but it was covered with a tablecloth. Elizabeth smiled, then realized that the music was still playing, and looked impatiently at the servant woman. The music was starting to irritate her. She frowned.
The woman gestured towards an overstuffed sofa.
"P-please," she said with a shy half-smile, "do sit here, my lady. I will ask my mistress to come here." Then she almost ran away.
It seemed that the old woman was employed by Governor Swann to watch over Mlle Dou, and now she was in a panic to see his daughter here. So everybody in the house was, in fact, on Mrs Turner's side. Elizabeth smiled to herself and sat on the sofa. Ah, the pirate adventures had changed everything. Nothing in the world would have forced her to sit in a courtesan's house before, but what did it mean to her now?
But the melody was flowing as if it were never to stop, mocking the guests, and nobody was coming. Estella, who was standing behind the sofa, began to sigh nervously. Elizabeth tried not to listen to the music; she wondered if Mlle Dou already had visitors. Was it she who was playing, or somebody else? But it was hard to catch any sound of human voices, or any sound at all except this persistent melody. Elizabeth refused to feel angry, she wanted to be calm, composed and reasonable as became a lady of her standing, so she resolved to wait.
She concentrated on smells - the room smelled of dust, but as the windows were open, Elizabeth could smell a very pleasant scent of garden flowers, and it softened her impatience a bit. Then she sniffed. There was something more coming through the windows. Elizabeth looked suddenly at Estella. It was a smell of roasted fowl.
"It looks that they are going to eat now, Miss Elizabeth," Estella said sourly. "Nothing to wonder about here. Decent people don't eat at this time of day... I told..."
"Shhh, be quiet," Elizabeth whispered. "Somebody is coming."
The steps were quick and bold; it wasn't the servant this time. The two women straightened up, assuming a dignified and solemn expression. Elizabeth tried not to watch the door - she tried to fix her gaze on the virginal - but her curiosity prevailed. She cast a hurried look at the woman who entered the room, and she gasped.
She was struck by a sudden, almost forgotten feeling, a childhood memory, something she had often felt when she was playing with little Will and he had brought her an exotic animal that she had never seen in England - a mixture of disgust and fascination. It was certainly unkind and degrading to watch a human being like that, but the feeling was overwhelming and Elizabeth found it impossible to tear her eyes off mlle Dou. She was short and slender, with a heap of black locks over her tiny face - a face that would be childish and sweet if not for some hidden taint of degeneration. The magnificent black eyes had a slight squint, the dark red lips were irregular, the delicate nose was a bit high-bridged; everything in her was distorted in some way, and she was already so heavily pregnant that her skinny hands and neck made her look almost unnatural. It was difficult to tell her age, there wasn't a single wrinkle on the olive skin, and despite the pregnancy her moves were quick and hard to predict; she resembled some strange animal so much that Elizabeth was actually surprised to hear her speak and not hiss.
"Let me guess," Mlle Dou said, her black eyes looking mockingly at Estella, then at Elizabeth, at Estella and finally at Elizabeth again. Her voice was a bit high, but not unpleasant. "Sophie told me that the Governor's daughter wished to talk to me... it must be you. Welcome, Mrs Turner. Would you like to dine with me?"
She turned her back to them unceremoniously and moved a small table to the sofa, grabbed a chair and brought it to the table, and then walked to the door, but the lack of response from her guests stopped her. She looked at Elizabeth and raised her brows questioningly.
"Mademoiselle Isabella Dou, I presume," Elizabeth said coldly.
"Oh, yes, that's me, Mrs Turner. There is only me and Sophie in this house, and you've met Sophie already."
"I am sorry to disturb you, but I didn't come here to dinner. I'd like to ask you for a favour and then leave. It will not take long."
"But I don't think so," Mlle Dou said with a skittish smile. "Once you came here, we will have a long, hearty talk, won't we? And I must really eat something, even if our conversation is to be short - I am told to eat only when I want to, you see..." she proudly touched her belly.
Elizabeth felt herself blush fervently and cast Estella a nervous glance. Estella responded with a reproachful look: 'I've warned you, Miss Elizabeth, but you won't listen.' Elizabeth sighed.
"I apologize," she said. "Do feel free to eat your dinner, Mademoiselle Dou."
"I will. Sooophie!"
The old woman was in the room the next moment. Elizabeth wondered if she were eavesdropping.
"Miss Isabella?..."
"Bring me dinner here, dear. And something for Mrs Turner. And you eat in the kitchen with Mrs Turner's maid."
Neither Estella nor Sophie looked very pleased.
"Estella can stay with me," said Elizabeth dryly.
Mlle Dou looked at her and shook her head.
"Oh, sweet Virgin Mary," she almost sang, "are you afraid of me? Do you think that I insult my guests? Because once I let somebody into my house, they are a welcome guest to me. And you are the Governor's daughter, Mrs Turner, and you have been so kind as to visit me. I am immensely flattered, I must say, and I want us two to spend a pleasant afternoon together." She smiled, narrowing her eyes. "But I am sure we don't need any witnesses to our chat, and you don't need a guard, so please send Estella to dine with Sophie."
Elizabeth started to feel intimidated by this brisk voice, rolling vowels, especially o's and a's, in a rather strange way.
"Very well," she said. "I don't have much time after all. Estella, go to the kitchen, please."
The maid shot her a hurtful glance, but she knew that it was no use to argue and she left with the old servant.
The situation was becoming very odd, Elizabeth thought. She was sitting on the sofa, watching her father's mistress, who was in turn wandering around the room impatiently, waiting for the meal to be brought in, looking occasionally out of the window. To her surprise Elizabeth noticed that the pinkish robe her hostess was wearing was nothing more than a very expensive negligee. Elizabeth frowned. Did it mean that mlle Dou was sleeping till afternoon? Anyway, it was a clear sign of disrespect.
Finally Sophie brought the roasted chicken, bread and tea with sweets for Elizabeth, who sighed. It apparently wasn't such a good idea to come here. Mlle Dou didn't want to see Elizabeth's reluctance in accepting her hospitality. She didn't seem to notice her guest's coldness and reserve at all; she looked as if she were utterly indifferent to Elizabeth's purpose of visit.
"Please, Mrs Turner, have some tea," she said.
"No, thank you," said Elizabeth stiffly.
Mlle Dou smiled and nibbled at the chicken. It had a very pleasant smell, and Elizabeth involuntarily wondered what spices could give it.
"Oh yes, the chicken is very good. It's not an English recipe," said Mlle Dou conversationally. "It's really delicious, with these raisins and almonds and all. I'm eating it almost every single day, oh! Poor Sophie, she had to learn so many things when I become pregnant! I taught her to cook my favourite meals, and thank God, she is excellent in it. You know, when you're with child, you sometimes feel like committing murder only to have your favourite dish. And everybody understands that. Funny." She giggled.
Elizabeth shuddered, looking at Mlle Dou's greasy little fingers. How could her father love such a vulgar creature? She felt betrayed and looked aside, forcing the tears to stay where they should.
Mlle Dou sighed.
"Please, try to drink the tea," she suggested, leaning over the table to take a closer look at Elizabeth. "It's not that bad. I'd rather drink some wine, but I cannot... the baby... Ah, this life is really funny," she said interrupting herself and laughing. "Nobody ever forbade me to drink, except for when I'm pregnant. I wonder if it isn't bad for me when I'm not... ah, whatever... So why don't you drink your tea and calm yourself a little?"
Elizabeth almost jumped up with surprise; she didn't expect this talkative little woman to be able to notice her sadness and distress. She felt angry.
"I do not want to outstay my welcome, Mademoiselle Dou," she said. "I am really grateful for your hospitality, and as I have one favour to ask you, I'd be even more grateful if you would grant it, which I do not doubt."
For the first moment it was nice to see that playful smile disappear from Mlle Dou's face, but before Elizabeth could taste her triumph properly, she was startled to see how fast her foe's expression changed from jauntiness to ice-cold dignity. She washed her hands in a little pot, wiped them, stood up and threw the serviette on the virginal.
"I am very curious why you don't doubt my kindness," she said defiantly, "while you consider me not worthy even to offer you a cup of tea. Oh well... I suppose you think it's called proper conduct, so I don't blame you..."
She laughed again, and Elizabeth felt amused against her will. It seemed as if every time Mlle Dou wanted to say something 'proper', a different person inside her was trying to interrupt her.
"So please, tell me what is that you want," she finished plainly, all severe again.
Elizabeth stood up too.
"I came here to ask you for the pearl necklace that my father gave you." She took a deep breath. "That necklace is very dear to me."
Mlle Dou smiled, crooking her head.
"It is very dear to me, too," she said.
"I do not doubt that," said Elizabeth, fighting her disgust. "I know I may be asking for an impossible thing, but you have to understand me. Perhaps you already know it, but that pearl necklace was... it belonged to my dead mother."
Mlle Dou closed her eyes for a moment. When she spoke, her voice was dry and furious.
"Mrs Turner," she said, "I see I'm supposed to be moved by what you've just told me. Well, I am not. Do you know why?"
In this moment it dawned upon Elizabeth that Isabella Dou was probably much older than her.
"No," she said with a lump in her throat.
"I know better than you what a mother is. No, not because I'm pregnant! I had a mother myself, would you know?... and the very word means nothing to me. You still believe in the whole motherly love thing, I see, but I don't. Nobody softens me by using their mother as a shield. You need to grow up, Mrs Turner." She smiled. "What about respecting your father's choice?"
Elizabeth clenched her fists.
"So you do insult your guests, after all," she said coldly. "I came here with a polite request. How could I know that you don't respect your own mother?"
"What do you call 'a polite request'? You refuse to eat with me and you demand something from me in my own house?"
"I do not demand anything. I asked you for a thing that never belonged to you."
"Well, it does now," Mlle Dou observed cheerfully. "And by a strange coincidence it happens to be very, very expensive."
Elizabeth calmed down surprisingly quickly. Ah, it's true that the only language these creatures understand is the language of gold.
"Mademoiselle Dou," she said, "why didn't you say so? I am more than willing to buy it from you. I'm sure we can come to an agreement. Name your price, if you please, and I will pay you gladly."
"Oh, Mrs Turner," said Mlle Dou, her childish smile back again, "please sit down and drink your tea first. Oh, God, it's cold already. Soooophie!"
Elizabeth didn't protest, when the old woman took away Mlle Dou's dishes and brought them new tea. She even took a piece of a strange brown bread with dried fruit. She began to feel hungry after all that fighting. Mlle Dou smiled at her.
"Not poisonous, is it?" she asked, spooling one of her dark locks on her tiny finger.
"Oh no, it's very good, in fact," Elizabeth agreed.
"Do you want the recipe?"
"No, thank you," Elizabeth smiled. She felt a sudden wave of sympathy towards the little Isabella. She was perhaps a little bit greedy, but looked good at heart and somewhat childishly naive. It was impossible to dislike her, really. Elizabeth wondered where her deep, vowel-rounding accent was from.
"Excuse me, were you born in London, Mademoiselle Dou?"
"No, I am not a Londoner." She chuckled. "But I moved to London when I was very, very little. My family was traveling a lot."
Elizabeth watched her discreetly. Was she Irish, then? No, with these huge black eyes and nose... impossible. Jewish?... Elizabeth felt slightly panicked. But no, she said something about the Holy Virgin, and besides... If the Governor chose a Jewess for his mistress, there'd be a huge scandal already... she couldn't be a Gypsy, either. Her name suggested that she could be French, but again, she shouldn't be trusted; and it might well be that she didn't know her own father's name at all.
"Was your family big?"
"No," she chuckled again. "It was very, very small, in fact. Do you like more tea, Mrs Turner?"
Elizabeth realized that it wasn't very delicate of her to inquire about Mlle Dou's family. Ah, what did she care anyway? She should go home. What if Will... no, he wouldn't leave Lord Yeardley's party, Elizabeth knew it, but the sudden hope and longing stirred in her. She should finish the business here as quickly as possible.
"No, thank you," she said politely, but firmly. "I should be going soon. Please, tell me how much would you like me to pay for the necklace, and I won't bother you any more today."
Mlle Dou touched her lips with the spooled lock and smiled lightly, leaning back a little.
"But I didn't say I am selling the necklace," she whispered.
Elizabeth felt as if she was falling into a ravine.
"B-but you did," she protested weakly.
"Oh no, Mrs Turner, I didn't. I asked you to sit and have tea with me, that's all."
"I wouldn't have drunk the tea if I hadn't been sure that you will sell the necklace..."
"Yes, I know, but it's you who persuaded yourself that I will," said Mlle Dou with a delightful smile, rocking in the chair like a spoiled child.
Elizabeth looked at her, blinking, trying desperately to collect her thoughts. The most dangerous woman she met in her life had been Anamaria, the beautiful pirate who had fought alongside herself, Jack Sparrow and Will against Barbossa. Elizabeth remembered the moment when they realized that the battle was lost and Anamaria proposed to give her, Elizabeth, over to Barbossa, pressing the pistol to her head. But now Elizabeth thought that proud and strong Anamaria with her pistols tucked in her trousers wasn't even half as fearsome as this tiny, weak, heavily pregnant, vulgar little woman. Anamaria was easy to understand; Mlle Dou was not. But Elizabeth was willing to meet the challenge.
"Why won't you sell me the necklace?" she asked softly.
"Dear God, how could I?" Mlle Dou exclaimed, clasping her hands. "What would your father say to that?"
"He wouldn't notice," said Elizabeth warmly.
"Oh, I am sure he would. Some day, when we will be married." Mlle Dou leaned forward in her chair to take a good look at Elizabeth, and laughed at her horror-stricken face. "No, Mrs Turner, I'm not joking, but well, let's leave this unpleasant... or pleasant matter aside. I'm not going to sell the necklace just because you ask me to. I will say more, I refuse to sell it because you think that I would sell everything, given a good price."
"Do you really expect that my father will marry you?" Elizabeth asked through clenched teeth.
"I have chances," said Mlle Dou philosophically, scratching her nose. "Not big, seeing that upper class gentlemen are huge cowards when it comes to love, but um, your father is really sweet and easy, and maybe I can work him out... if I don't run short of patience, that is." She burst out laughing.
Elizabeth felt that she should do something. She tried to figure out what most women of her own social standing would do - slap this disrespectful creature? But she was pregnant, and Elizabeth couldn't raise her hand to somebody so fragile, moreover, she didn't want to touch her. Yell at her? But she probably wouldn't care. No, there was no way to hurt her.
There was no way to hurt her. This thought was something new to Elizabeth. It was a long time since she had met such a carefree human being. Despite her low social position, despite the disgrace surrounding her name, despite being pregnant with an illegitimate child, despite being neither beautiful nor rich, Mlle Dou seemed so light-hearted...
Why was it, Elizabeth wondered. She couldn't remember being really happy herself. She might have seemed a paragon of happiness, especially to all those jealous Port Royal ladies, but there were always cares and worries in her life - her mother's early demise, her father's strange taste in women, other people's jealousy and hatred, her family's disapproval of the marriage with Will, poor James Norrington's hurt feelings... There was only one thing that could make up for all this and help Elizabeth in finding her peace of mind; and Elizabeth felt that she was not receiving it recently. She was starving for it, she was cold and lost without it. It was Will's love.
"Do you love my father?"
Elizabeth was mortified to hear this question escape her lips. It was somebody other speaking, not Mrs Turner, not Governor's daughter; it was little Elizabeth who enjoyed climbing trees and fishing in a garden pond with little Will, and who was missing that Will so much that it hurt.
She closed her eyes, feeling so lonely, so vulnerable. She prayed that this moment would pass away. But then she sensed hot, muscat-like breath on her cheek, and a tender touch of a batiste handkerchief, catching that single heavy tear.
"There, there," Mlle Dou whispered. "'Tis very hard to be a brave girl, I know, but you are. We both are. We should be proud of ourselves. Here, hold this kerchief. It's clean, it's come from the laundry today. Cry a little, I won't watch, and then we will fight again. Um, maybe we need some more tea. Soooophie!"
"N-no," Elizabeth protested weakly.
"She won't come here. Soooophie! Bring us new teeeeea, will you?"
When she returned to her chair, Elizabeth was calm and composed again, just a little bit ashamed.
"Thank you," she said quietly. "I'll wash it and send it back by Estella, if you allow me."
"No, I demand that you leave it here, Mrs Turner. It's my favourite kerchief, I'll die without it, you see," said mlle Dou rolling her eyes. "Once we spoke to each other as becomes humans and not mechanical dolls, we could try more, don't you thi... Oh well, as you wish, whatever!..." she interrupted herself, although Elizabeth didn't say anything. "So, going back to your question..."
Elizabeth knew she should say that she didn't want to hear the answer, but she couldn't. She was almost forced to look into Mlle Dou's dark eyes, for she leaned forward and looked deeply into Elizabeth's.
"No, Mrs Turner. Don't be afraid. I do not love your father. I like him."
"H-how dare you tell me that," Elizabeth whispered.
"Tell me something that rings true. Henceforth I'll pretend that I don't hear any of your trite exclamations. There's only you and me here. Nobody will ever say that you failed to behave like a lady. You came to my house, ate with me and cried. How can you still talk to me like that?"
"What are you talking about? Why did you say that I shouldn't be afraid?"
"You know why." Isabella folded her skinny hands on her belly and smiled. "You know what a woman in love can do. You saved your boy, made him confess his love for you, and overcame all the obstacles so that you could marry him. Chapeaux-bas, Mrs Turner! I was really impressed to hear your story, and I knew you would come to visit me some day."
"I don't understand," said Elizabeth. "What does it have to do with you and my father?"
Isabella sighed.
"Think," she said. "There are two groups of people in this world. People who love and people who think that they should love, because others do. The second is bigger, of course, but you belong to the first. Nothing would stop you, when you're following your love. Your love is genuine and strong, and it crushes everything that stands in its way."
Elizabeth felt herself blush.
"These being very beautiful words, but you see," Isabella continued, "I think I can say them about me as well. If I loved your father, you would have no doubt about it. But I don't. I like him, therefore you're safe."
"Wait, please," Elizabeth said coldly. "But you want to marry him?"
"Sure I do," Isabella answered cheerfully, breaking a cookie into little pieces.
"How can you say that you can love genuinely and strongly, when you want to marry my father without love?!"
Isabella raised her head and frowned.
"Now it's me who doesn't understand," she complained.
"If you claim to know what true love is, how can you marry my father and not love him?"
She heard another burst of laughter.
"What are you talking about, Mrs Turner? Marriage and love? Look around you, most of the marriages here are arranged, aren't they? Don't you know what a marriage is? It is a contract, an agreement. No love is needed. Besides, you seem not to realize it, but I can assure you that your father doesn't love me either."
"This is not true! He loves you. I wouldn't come here if I weren't sure that he does. You are the only person he talks and thinks about all the time. He wasn't concerned at all about me marrying Will, because the only thing he was able to concentrate on was you. He gave you my mother's wedding necklace. He..."
"You are so greatly, greatly mistaken," said Isabella sharply. "You can love, but you fail to recognize if others can. Your father doesn't care about me. If he did, he would marry me long ago. If I go away tomorrow, he will be grief-stricken and sick, but he won't search for me..."
"So why do you want to marry him?!" Elizabeth interrupted angrily. She knew the answer this time, though.
"Because I'd like to be the Governor's wife, that's why," said Isabella with a smug smile. "I presume I don't need to explain what kind of benefits are connected with it."
Elizabeth bit her lips, but she couldn't say the usual 'how dare you' now, when the conversation has gone so far.
"I do not think you will succeed," she said calmly.
"Neither do I," Isabella agreed lightly. "But I will try."
"Nobody will approve it."
"Ah, I know. The whole Port Royal society against me and all that, right? Awww, I am so scared!..." She started to laugh, but suddenly scratched her nose, as if reminded of something. "Honestly speaking, my chances are very slight. But I can at least live a decent living, and the child's future will be assured as well."
Elizabeth felt uneasy. She thought about the baby. It would be her own sibling... a brother or a sister... if only, if only.... She shook her head. It was a truly revolting thought, but she couldn't help it. She looked at Isabella suspiciously.
"I am sure my father will see to that," she said slowly. "I am sure he won't let HIS child starve."
Isabella narrowed her eyes and stood up suddenly.
"Very well!..." she hissed. "You think it's not your father's child?... You are fully entitled to think whatever you want, but don't try to insult me in my own house, for you have no right to do that! Listen, this is a fair trade. I won't hurt your father - as I said, I like him."
Elizabeth wanted to say something, but it was too late; Mlle Dou was wandering through the room, waving her hands.
"I don't want to deprive you of anything. I won't try to convince you that you're really my baby's elder sister; why, I can understand it's not a pleasant idea to you!... But anyway, I won't let my child starve... But listen, Mrs Turner, you don't have to be afraid! How do you know if it's born alive? I have been pregnant before and I wasn't able to carry the child! You don't even know if I am going to be alive!... Oh, just a little tiny baby and it scares everybody to death!... F-funny..." she looked at Elizabeth and she started to laugh.
Elizabeth was shocked to find out that it wasn't Isabella's first child. How old was this woman? Didn't she miss the dead baby? Did she have a heart at all, if her only answer to anything was laughter?
"Why do you laugh?" she asked, feeling completely put out.
Mlle Dou sat back in her chair and started to fan herself with a long sleeve of her pink negligee.
"Why shouldn't I?" she wondered.
"You are talking about your dead child," Elizabeth whispered with her eyes downcast. "Was it... the child of the man you loved?... You said you can love truly and strongly..."
Isabella shook her head, apparently amused.
"No, the child wasn't his," she said simply.
"But there IS such a man," Elizabeth whispered. She couldn't believe that her father's mistress would admit so lightly that she loved - or loves - another man than the Governor.
"Yes, there is," said Mlle Dou, looking at Elizabeth with her curious eyes. Elizabeth felt as though cold pincers of foreboding were squeezing her heart.
"I wonder how he looks like," she forced herself to say. "Is he handsome?"
"I think so," said Mlle Dou proudly.
"Oh... How does his hair look like, then?"
"Brown and curly," said Mlle Dou. She was really amused.
"A... and the eyes?"
"Brown," said Mlle Dou.
"Is he skilled... can he fight?"
"I guess so."
"What is his occupation?"
Mlle Dou frowned.
"It's hard to tell it now, I reckon," she said after a while and sighed.
"Has he ever... has he ever run afoul of the law?"
"Unfortunately, yes," Mlle Dou answered, sighing again.
"Does he love you?... I mean, are you sure he belongs to you?"
"I am not so sure," Mlle Dou said with a skittish smile, leaning over the table. "He may be with another girl now, but well, who am I to judge him? Because, yes, he does love me and does belong to me anyway. He's mine."
Elizabeth was sitting on the sofa, holding convulsively on to the batiste handkerchief, almost unable to breathe. Her dress was tight, oh so tight, and the day was hot, and now she was facing the horror. She forgot her father, she didn't care about him now. All that counted was Will, who was visiting this woman and slowly falling into her trap. Brown-eyed, brown-and-curly-haired Will, Will who was skilled with the sword, Will who was a blacksmith, but wasn't working in the forge anymore, Will who had almost been sentenced to execution twice - for the theft of the Dauntless and for freeing Jack Sparrow. Will who now belonged to this insignificant, ill-mannered woman, who hadn't even half of Elizabeth's beauty, but who was so carefree and easy-going that men were drawn to her like flies to the fire. And she wanted Will as well... and probably wasn't going to let him go, because her love was strong and deep and able to remove everything from her way...
Elizabeth raised her hands slowly to touch her temples. She couldn't bring herself to say anything. She wanted this nightmare to end, she wanted to go home, to run away, but she was unable to move. She was just sitting on the unfriendly sofa, trembling.
"Oh, dear God, and now what's this? Mrs Turner!... Elizabeth... what's wrong with you? You look so pale... the dress?... ah... no, no, there's something more. Are you not feeling well? Do we need some wine?"
Elizabeth couldn't tell if that suddenly gentle concern was sincere or not. All she knew was that all her previous countenance was now shattered like glass. She wasn't able even to curse the moment in which she came to this house.
"I must go," she whispered. But before she could move, she had a pair of slender hands around her, locking her in a firm embrace.
She was so shocked that she could only wait for whatever came next. But that was it. Isabella held her and did nothing more. It was much more than Elizabeth could bear, though. She forgot what a simple embrace could do - not a loving, paternal one, which she received from her father, nor a loving, passionate one that Will used to give her - no, an embrace of a human being who wasn't bound by any obligation towards her. She didn't remember when she had last had got a similar endearment from anybody. Her mother was long dead; all her friends were much too false to bestow such a kindness upon her, and she saw through them and didn't allow herself to show her occasional weakness in front of them; and the servants and teachers weren't concerned about her either - they saw only a governor's daughter in her, not a little girl who would need some of the tenderness carefully stored somewhere in their heart's darkest corner and left to rot.
It was so strange that Mlle Dou seemed positively indifferent as to whether her offer would be accepted or rejected. In fact, she didn't care for Elizabeth's reaction; she was sure that her own decision was right, she was determined not to let Elizabeth go anyway, and her arms were unbelievably strong for such a fragile person. Elizabeth didn't want to cry; she bit her lips, but she couldn't help heavy, dry sobbing.
"Shhh, dearie, shhh," murmured Isabella, holding her still. It was soothing and fresh, and Elizabeth nestled close, very shyly and stealthily. They sat, unmoving, for a long while. The jasmine scent from the garden was very distinct now, in the last hour before sunset, and the last light of the day was softly filling the room.
"I won't give Will away," Elizabeth whispered at last. "Let me go, please. I don't need you to pity me. I won't..."
Mlle Dou let her go in an instant.
"Mary mother of God," she said. "What are you talking about?"
"Now you don't lie to me, please," said Elizabeth quietly. "You told me enough. It is Will that you love, but... you have my father already! You can keep him! I don't care! But Will, I won't..."
Mlle Dou was watching her with amazement and fascination.
"You are a bad girl, Mrs Turner," she said. "You keep hurting yourself and you don't even recognize what are you doing. But at last you understood something. You are not your father's guardian anymore; you are an adult woman and you have your love to protect."
"And I will! Be sure that I will..."
"That's all very fine," Isabella said, "but not necessary, at least not now. You are safe when it comes to that matter too. You see your Will in every man, my sweet!"
Elizabeth blinked.
"You think that every man with brown eyes and curly brown hair is William Turner?"
"You said he's skilled in swords-fighting..."
"Well, he is, I've seen him fighting. So what? Isn't, for example, Commodore Norrington skilled with swords as well?"
"You said he's run afoul of the law..."
"Not once or twice, believe me," Isabella said, chuckling.
"And it's hard to tell what his profession is now..."
"That's very true, given that I don't even know where he is now," Isabella said grudgingly. "In fact, I don't know if he's alive at all. Wouldn't be surprised if it proved otherwise."
"Do you mean that he's not here?!" Elizabeth exclaimed.
"No, he's not, heavens forbid!"
"You... you don't miss him? You don't want to be with him? What kind of man is he then?" Elizabeth was so bewildered she almost asked 'what kind of woman are you'. She thought about Will. The sole thought of being separated from him for a long time, only to be with a man she didn't love, gave her goose-bumps.
"I haven't seen him for two... or was it three years?" Isabella chuckled, but gained her solemnity quite fast this time. "I'd like to know if he's all right, but I'm sure he'll show up sooner or later... and it better be later." She looked into Elizabeth's eyes. "Don't be so surprised, Mrs Turner. You are still very young. I've seen things... you don't realize it, but skeletons moving in the moonlight aren't half as scary as human stupidity parading triumphantly in the sunlight." She laughed. "We went through fire and water together. I am in his debt and he is in mine. But we aren't children anymore..."
"Wait," Elizabeth interrupted, "you knew him from childhood?"
"Um, I was around eight, I guess," Isabella said scratching her nose, "and he was thirteen when we met for the first time. Quite the same case as you and Mr Turner, right?"
Elizabeth smiled.
"So why do you want him to stay away from Port Royal?"
"We-ell," said Isabella slowly, "I have my business here, and he means trouble. Don't look at me like that, please. There are very talented people, when it comes to getting into trouble, and he's one of them. And I would have to help him here. Oh, I'd rather have him stay where he is, if he's still alive, of course."
"Who is he?" Elizabeth asked. "What is his name?"
Isabella shook her head with a smile.
"I can't tell you that," she said plainly.
Elizabeth felt her heart beating anxiously again.
"Why can't you? Are you playing with me, then?"
"Playing with you, me? Why?"
"You saw I was upset that your love might be Will, but you didn't say anything. You watched me suffer," said Elizabeth. Her rage was beginning to rise. "Did you enjoy it? You're setting traps for me all the time. Is that what your hospitality means? You pretend to receive your guests well just to fool them, because they are at your mercy here? Are you like that to your other guests too, or only to me, because I am a woman? Speak openly, please. I'm quite accustomed to being an object of hate. There is no one better in Port Royal. All the ladies and girls here love to hate me, because they imagine I've deprived them of something. Oh yes, they don't hesitate to hug me from time to time too, so you can't mislead me at least."
Isabella was silent for awhile, with her eyes downcast. Then she sighed and looked at Elizabeth. She was squinting less than before, and she held Elizabeth's gaze calmly.
"It's good to see things how they really are," she said. "Should it flatter me to be lined up with Port Royal ladies? Maybe, but it really doesn't. Especially when it comes to hating you. I don't care what people think of me, but I'm not that cheap a woman to hate another woman because she happens to have luck with men and money. I don't hate you, Mrs Turner. Why should I? Quite on the contrary, let me assure you... if you only care." She laughed.
"I find it somewhat difficult to believe you," Elizabeth said. "Why should you differ from the crowd?"
"Why, because I do," Isabella said.
"So why are you playing with me like that?"
"You didn't come to my house as my friend," Isabella said. She smiled, seeing Elizabeth frown. "No, don't worry, I don't think you should be a friend with a kept woman. Nevertheless, you disliked me even without meeting me, and I haven't deprived you of anything yet."
"Haven't you really? What about my father, then?"
"Your father still loves you." Isabella leaned forward, widening her eyes. "Wait. Your father fancies me as a man fancies a woman - are you jealous of it?"
"What makes you think in such a dirty way," murmured Elizabeth, blushing.
"You don't need to protect your father," Isabella said. "He is an adult man. He is not betraying his wife, nor is he betraying you. As for your husband, yes, I've met him and I admit he's nice and sweet, but he's not for me. He is a family man, a soft, decent, proper young gentleman, one of those I have no inclination to love. He's not a pirate in the slightest, the only thing that could render him a pirate is you, Mrs Turner, because he loves you and he would go against his nature for you."
Elizabeth bit her lip.
"No, no need to be ashamed. This is why the ladies don't like you - because you were able to make a man love you so much. Most of them will only read about such love in their little romance books, don't you agree?" She laughed.
Elizabeth felt an irresistible urge to say something nice, something that would prove how grateful she was to Isabella for that sudden, careless kindness.
"What about the man you love? Would he sacrifice himself for you as well... going against his nature?"
"Oh..." Isabella smiled sadly, to her memories perhaps. "I don't know if it was against his nature or no, but he did for me things that not every man would do for a woman. Don't even ask me what it was," she said laughing again. "So anyway, I have my own love and you have yours, so there is no point for us to hate each other."
"So you do not hate me," Elizabeth murmured. "I've never met a woman who would sincerely tell me that, I reckon." She sighed. "There's not only Will they resent..."
"Ahhh, I know. So many ladies hate you, because they are self-styled defenders of Commodore Norrington. How funny, they are fully entitled to try their luck with him now, but he doesn't even notice them! He doesn't know that some of them exist! Well, they HAVE to blame somebody for it, and as it's rather hard to blame him, they blame you." She waved her hand. "Women hating women over men, how pathetic."
She gazed at Elizabeth suddenly, narrowing her eyes.
"Or maybe you think otherwise? Do you bear ill will towards me because of your father?" She laughed. "Oh well, let's put it straight. Do you hate me still?"
"Still?" Elizabeth was surprised. "I didn't hate you at all, and most definitely I don't hate you now." She sighed and looked down, trying to collect her new thoughts. There were so many of them. "I know, most women... daughters... would dislike you. But I think that it's more because they think they SHOULD dislike their father's choice... so they do. Well... to be honest, I don't think I should be particularly grateful to you... but in general, I don't like to use that cheap word, 'hate', to describe my feelings, and it never true in your case. Not even close." She thought for a moment, then smiled. "I think that 'curiosity' is an appropriate word."
"Ah, curiosity, yes," Isabella agreed. "Your father often says that your curiosity will be your undoing."
Elizabeth sighed. She wasn't sure if she liked the thought of her father discussing her character with Mlle Dou.
"Don't worry, he doesn't talk about you too often," Isabella said. "To tell the truth, I wasn't interested that much. I've met enough well-born damsels in my life, so I thought I have you figured... live and learn, and you'll die stupid anyway," she interrupted herself and laughed. "Never mind. You are a rare woman, Mrs Turner. There's no blind rancour against other women in you, and it's so hard to find."
"You could say the same thing about yourself," Elizabeth observed.
"You see? You are kind-hearted and courageous enough to compare yourself to me. That's ve-e-ery bad," Isabella chided with mocking indignation. "Not many ladies of your standing could do the same... Yes, there is some resemblance between you and me, Mrs Turner. We have the rare feature that nobody cares to see. Men, because they don't give a damn... oh, pardon me... how women treat each other. And women feel their cruelty towards each other is a mark of their womanhood." She laughed. "We are the pearls that don't shine, because nobody values that kind of glitter."
Elizabeth smiled. Ah, she had almost forgotten something.
"Talking about pearls..." she began cautiously.
To her surprise, Isabella shook her head.
"No, I refuse," she said. There was no malice in her look, but her voice was firm. "I won't give you your necklace back, nor will I sell it."
"But why? I think we can reach some agreement," Elizabeth said shyly.
"No, Mrs Turner. There is no enmity between us, but there is no friendship either, and there will never be. I think it's a fair statement, and you have to agree with me. You consider me an intruder, and I don't even have to mention what else. You said that 'you shouldn't be grateful to me'. I don't know why, because I'm making your father happy after all, but I understand you. I'm a disgrace to your family, you are right, and there are rules to follow and barriers to keep. You showed me a plain human kindness and I answered you. We don't step out of our places. You are the Governor's daughter and I am his kept woman - let's keep playing along these lines."
"But if you sell me the necklace, wouldn't it be a plain human kindness?"
"No, it would be too much," Isabella said with an impish smile. "I will keep my role, the more so because you want me to keep it." She scratched her nose, seeing Elizabeth's look freeze. "Wait, please, I still have something to say. The necklace stays with me as long as I'm staying in Port Royal. If anything happens and I have to leave, I will give it back to you. You have my word, if you want. Oh, and one more thing. The moment you let your father marry me, the necklace is yours as well."
tbc
A/N: Thank you, Alteng, for reviewing the previous chapter! And thank you, Ewa, my friend, for all your help and support.
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II
When Elizabeth and Estella sneaked out of the house, it was already three o'clock. Elizabeth was a little nervous. She didn't want to take Estella with her, but it was too suspicious for Elizabeth to go out without a chaperone; Mlle Dou was living rather far away and there was a chance that Elizabeth would be seen and recognized by somebody while walking alone through the streets of Port Royal. Estella's presence was proof in itself that there was nothing strange in Elizabeth's escapade. Moreover, the maid was the only person who could lead her to Mlle Dou's house. Elizabeth promised her solemnly that nobody would ever know about her source of information. It wasn't enough, however, because Estella was clearly scared by Will's concepts of house discipline and Elizabeth had to reinforce her promise by a new bonnet and a pair of stockings. Estella finally agreed to go out with her mistress, but she was immensely confused and distressed. She asked Elizabeth to abandon her plans almost with tears in her eyes.
"I beg of you, Miss Elizabeth," she pleaded. She was stubbornly calling Elizabeth 'miss'; it was the only resistance against Will that was left to the servants. "You don't have any idea what foul creatures those women can be. It is improper for a lady only to think about them. And you are going to her house uninvited! You expose yourself to every insult possible... and you don't even have a man with you that could defend you!"
Elizabeth sighed.
"You forget that I was kidnapped by Captain Barbossa's pirates, and I was exposed to much more than insults, yet I came back safely. I met people much more dangerous than a woman of easy virtue that can be won in a card game."
"But Miss Elizabeth, the pirates didn't want to harm you because they needed you. And begging your pardon, there will never be such hatred between a man and a woman as between a woman and a woman."
Elizabeth nodded. She was very well aware of the feelings that the females of Port Royal had towards her. Their animosity might have had different reasons, but it united them nicely. Some of them hated her from the beginning, just because she was the Governor's daughter, or because she was beautiful and rich and young. It was fun to watch them, for they were usually trying to worm themselves into her favour; they were mostly mothers of marriageable girls. As for their daughters, they hated Elizabeth, because James Norrington loved her so much that he couldn't even think about other girls as girls and would discuss mostly Navy matters and weather with them. The girls refused to share his interests, but they swore that they adored him, and were bewildered when it became evident that Norrington could not forget Elizabeth, even after she married Will, and didn't immediately run after some consolation. The girls and their mothers conjured some very artful gossip about Elizabeth having been, in fact, dishonoured and violated by the pirates, being too ashamed to become a wife of a proper gentleman like Norrington, and therefore giving herself up to her newly-discovered bad instincts by choosing Turner. This idea was a little bit altered by the third group of women, namely girls from the common families, who were in love with Will. They insisted that the Governor and the Commodore had bought Will with a vast amount of money, begging him to marry Elizabeth and to save her honour. Neither group could see that Norrington was unhappy without Elizabeth, Will was happy with her, and Governor Swann was generally out of it because of Isabella Dou's charms. But it was perfectly understandable - how could all those poor women notice anything, being so occupied with their own dreams and hopes? Elizabeth didn't pay any attention to their helpless hatred. They had to be polite with her, and it was a constant source of amusement for Elizabeth to observe their poorly veiled rage and fumes at the parties and receptions. What could they do to her? And what could this little Mlle Dou do to her?
"Ah, Estella, I know what you mean, but what could she do to me? She is nobody. And she is pregnant. Do you think she could hit me or anything?"
"Oh, Lord, what are you talking about, Miss Elizabeth? She is to hit you? I would kill the wretch on the spot! No, no. I was thinking about her being rude to you and your dear mother. Those women don't have any decency, any manners, any respect for anything. And when they are pregnant, they are mad like cats. They fear nothing..."
Elizabeth sighed again. She was beginning to feel tired.
"Have you ever met her?"
"God forbid," Estella exclaimed with righteous indignation.
"If you are so scared, I have no right to force you to go with me. You are free to go back."
"Oh, Miss Elizabeth, how could you think I would leave you alone with such a creature? Never, never! I am going with you."
Elizabeth smiled; she recalled the bonnet and the stockings. For her own part, she didn't feel nervous in the slightest, the whole idea of visiting her father's mistress being only a pale echo of her past adventures. No, she didn't miss them. They had cured her of any girlish dreams about pirates that she had ever had. She still shuddered to think about the horrible battle that had nearly cost Will his life, about the ghostly Black Pearl with her ragged sails in the moonlight, about her impish crew... although she would sometimes think about her devilish captain. She knew that he had taken a fancy to her, she had seen it in his eyes; he was a man, not a boy like Will Turner, and he was a captain with no one but God above him, not a soldier who had to obey his superiors, like James Norrington...
Elizabeth closed her eyes for a moment. She didn't dare to think about James; not yet. She felt more than guilty about deceiving him and then spurning him so mercilessly in public - she felt that her choice could, in fact, prove wrong in the future. She was scared to think about it, she was extremely anxious. Now she quickened her pace so that Estella almost had to run.
When they got closer to Mlle Dou's house, Estella's resolution wore thin. She slowed her steps and tried to hide herself behind Elizabeth's back in some comical effort, and it nearly made Elizabeth laugh, wiping her sad thoughts away. How could she be sad, however, on such a warm afternoon, with the wind bringing over the sea breeze and the sweet scent of bougainvillea and jasmine?
Elizabeth stopped on the street suddenly, as if she felt all this beauty for the first time. She looked up at the cloudless sky, and then to the side - she was standing next to the big garden that looked unkempt and wild, full of all sorts of flowers that were bravely overcoming the crushed walls and pouring their red, orange and pink garlands on the street. An abandoned house was looming far in the depths of this luscious jungle, hopeless and pathetic with its shallow holes of unglazed windows, like a sign of defeat surrounded by the triumphant forces of nature.
"Miss Elizabeth, it's here," Estella whispered touching Elizabeth's arm.
Elizabeth shuddered.
"Here?"
"Oh, no, not here! This is an abandoned house. That one," Estella said.
She pointed discreetly at a small villa with its shutters wide open. The house looked tidy and rather new, its walls dazzlingly white, its tiled roof still maintaining a lively shade of red. So this was where the Governor's money and providence were going, thought Elizabeth bitterly, when they approached the gate with two bunches of fragile, poisonous angel's trumpets flowering on its both sides.
Estella took up the door-knocker, but Elizabeth stopped her with a quick gesture. Somebody in the house was playing an odd, very lively, definitely not English melody; and an even stranger thing was that Elizabeth couldn't tell what the instrument was. It had a sound similar to lute or mandolin, but much deeper, and the player was sometimes tapping the box with an open hand. Elizabeth was sure that she had heard the melody before, but couldn't recognize it, for the interpretation was really confusing. She felt a sudden urge to put an end to it, and before Estella could even move, she grabbed the door-knocker herself and made as much noise as she could.
The music did not stop, though, and Elizabeth thought that nobody in the house heard the knocking. She was about to repeat it, but the gate opened suddenly; neither Elizabeth nor her maid heard the steps. Estella hardly had time to push herself before her mistress, so that Elizabeth wouldn't have to talk to Mlle Dou's servant.
They expected a nimble young maid, or maybe somebody around Estella's age, but it was an older woman, quite short, seemingly in her fifties, dressed very modestly in grey, with her hair bound into a little chignon, tight like a child's fist. Her look was severe and reserved, her lips forming a thin long line; it was very strange to find somebody so uptight in a courtesan's house, but it occurred to Elizabeth that her father probably had placed this warden in the house to keep a sharp eye on his mistress... or maybe not, maybe she was a procuress and just knew how to look like a respectful person.
The old woman didn't say anything, so Estella had to make the first move.
"Please, tell your mistress, that the Governor's daughter, Mrs Elizabeth Turner, is here and wishes to speak to her," she said with great dignity.
To Elizabeth's great surprise, the woman's expression changed into something between joy and horror. She blinked violently several times, clasped her hands, then without a word, only with a convulsive gesture of her head, invited them into the house. Following her, Elizabeth saw that she was limping a little.
The guests were shown into a small, poorly lit parlour. From that particular slight smell of dust and dampness residing here, Elizabeth could tell that the mistress of the house probably didn't like the room and didn't use it much. It was cleanly swept, but it lacked warmth and the touch of life. The furniture apparently wasn't new - it might have belonged to another courtesan who left Port Royal long ago. There were some random paintings of flowers and birds on the walls, blackened and fly-blown already; the most spectacular thing here was a little virginal placed near the left window, but it was covered with a tablecloth. Elizabeth smiled, then realized that the music was still playing, and looked impatiently at the servant woman. The music was starting to irritate her. She frowned.
The woman gestured towards an overstuffed sofa.
"P-please," she said with a shy half-smile, "do sit here, my lady. I will ask my mistress to come here." Then she almost ran away.
It seemed that the old woman was employed by Governor Swann to watch over Mlle Dou, and now she was in a panic to see his daughter here. So everybody in the house was, in fact, on Mrs Turner's side. Elizabeth smiled to herself and sat on the sofa. Ah, the pirate adventures had changed everything. Nothing in the world would have forced her to sit in a courtesan's house before, but what did it mean to her now?
But the melody was flowing as if it were never to stop, mocking the guests, and nobody was coming. Estella, who was standing behind the sofa, began to sigh nervously. Elizabeth tried not to listen to the music; she wondered if Mlle Dou already had visitors. Was it she who was playing, or somebody else? But it was hard to catch any sound of human voices, or any sound at all except this persistent melody. Elizabeth refused to feel angry, she wanted to be calm, composed and reasonable as became a lady of her standing, so she resolved to wait.
She concentrated on smells - the room smelled of dust, but as the windows were open, Elizabeth could smell a very pleasant scent of garden flowers, and it softened her impatience a bit. Then she sniffed. There was something more coming through the windows. Elizabeth looked suddenly at Estella. It was a smell of roasted fowl.
"It looks that they are going to eat now, Miss Elizabeth," Estella said sourly. "Nothing to wonder about here. Decent people don't eat at this time of day... I told..."
"Shhh, be quiet," Elizabeth whispered. "Somebody is coming."
The steps were quick and bold; it wasn't the servant this time. The two women straightened up, assuming a dignified and solemn expression. Elizabeth tried not to watch the door - she tried to fix her gaze on the virginal - but her curiosity prevailed. She cast a hurried look at the woman who entered the room, and she gasped.
She was struck by a sudden, almost forgotten feeling, a childhood memory, something she had often felt when she was playing with little Will and he had brought her an exotic animal that she had never seen in England - a mixture of disgust and fascination. It was certainly unkind and degrading to watch a human being like that, but the feeling was overwhelming and Elizabeth found it impossible to tear her eyes off mlle Dou. She was short and slender, with a heap of black locks over her tiny face - a face that would be childish and sweet if not for some hidden taint of degeneration. The magnificent black eyes had a slight squint, the dark red lips were irregular, the delicate nose was a bit high-bridged; everything in her was distorted in some way, and she was already so heavily pregnant that her skinny hands and neck made her look almost unnatural. It was difficult to tell her age, there wasn't a single wrinkle on the olive skin, and despite the pregnancy her moves were quick and hard to predict; she resembled some strange animal so much that Elizabeth was actually surprised to hear her speak and not hiss.
"Let me guess," Mlle Dou said, her black eyes looking mockingly at Estella, then at Elizabeth, at Estella and finally at Elizabeth again. Her voice was a bit high, but not unpleasant. "Sophie told me that the Governor's daughter wished to talk to me... it must be you. Welcome, Mrs Turner. Would you like to dine with me?"
She turned her back to them unceremoniously and moved a small table to the sofa, grabbed a chair and brought it to the table, and then walked to the door, but the lack of response from her guests stopped her. She looked at Elizabeth and raised her brows questioningly.
"Mademoiselle Isabella Dou, I presume," Elizabeth said coldly.
"Oh, yes, that's me, Mrs Turner. There is only me and Sophie in this house, and you've met Sophie already."
"I am sorry to disturb you, but I didn't come here to dinner. I'd like to ask you for a favour and then leave. It will not take long."
"But I don't think so," Mlle Dou said with a skittish smile. "Once you came here, we will have a long, hearty talk, won't we? And I must really eat something, even if our conversation is to be short - I am told to eat only when I want to, you see..." she proudly touched her belly.
Elizabeth felt herself blush fervently and cast Estella a nervous glance. Estella responded with a reproachful look: 'I've warned you, Miss Elizabeth, but you won't listen.' Elizabeth sighed.
"I apologize," she said. "Do feel free to eat your dinner, Mademoiselle Dou."
"I will. Sooophie!"
The old woman was in the room the next moment. Elizabeth wondered if she were eavesdropping.
"Miss Isabella?..."
"Bring me dinner here, dear. And something for Mrs Turner. And you eat in the kitchen with Mrs Turner's maid."
Neither Estella nor Sophie looked very pleased.
"Estella can stay with me," said Elizabeth dryly.
Mlle Dou looked at her and shook her head.
"Oh, sweet Virgin Mary," she almost sang, "are you afraid of me? Do you think that I insult my guests? Because once I let somebody into my house, they are a welcome guest to me. And you are the Governor's daughter, Mrs Turner, and you have been so kind as to visit me. I am immensely flattered, I must say, and I want us two to spend a pleasant afternoon together." She smiled, narrowing her eyes. "But I am sure we don't need any witnesses to our chat, and you don't need a guard, so please send Estella to dine with Sophie."
Elizabeth started to feel intimidated by this brisk voice, rolling vowels, especially o's and a's, in a rather strange way.
"Very well," she said. "I don't have much time after all. Estella, go to the kitchen, please."
The maid shot her a hurtful glance, but she knew that it was no use to argue and she left with the old servant.
The situation was becoming very odd, Elizabeth thought. She was sitting on the sofa, watching her father's mistress, who was in turn wandering around the room impatiently, waiting for the meal to be brought in, looking occasionally out of the window. To her surprise Elizabeth noticed that the pinkish robe her hostess was wearing was nothing more than a very expensive negligee. Elizabeth frowned. Did it mean that mlle Dou was sleeping till afternoon? Anyway, it was a clear sign of disrespect.
Finally Sophie brought the roasted chicken, bread and tea with sweets for Elizabeth, who sighed. It apparently wasn't such a good idea to come here. Mlle Dou didn't want to see Elizabeth's reluctance in accepting her hospitality. She didn't seem to notice her guest's coldness and reserve at all; she looked as if she were utterly indifferent to Elizabeth's purpose of visit.
"Please, Mrs Turner, have some tea," she said.
"No, thank you," said Elizabeth stiffly.
Mlle Dou smiled and nibbled at the chicken. It had a very pleasant smell, and Elizabeth involuntarily wondered what spices could give it.
"Oh yes, the chicken is very good. It's not an English recipe," said Mlle Dou conversationally. "It's really delicious, with these raisins and almonds and all. I'm eating it almost every single day, oh! Poor Sophie, she had to learn so many things when I become pregnant! I taught her to cook my favourite meals, and thank God, she is excellent in it. You know, when you're with child, you sometimes feel like committing murder only to have your favourite dish. And everybody understands that. Funny." She giggled.
Elizabeth shuddered, looking at Mlle Dou's greasy little fingers. How could her father love such a vulgar creature? She felt betrayed and looked aside, forcing the tears to stay where they should.
Mlle Dou sighed.
"Please, try to drink the tea," she suggested, leaning over the table to take a closer look at Elizabeth. "It's not that bad. I'd rather drink some wine, but I cannot... the baby... Ah, this life is really funny," she said interrupting herself and laughing. "Nobody ever forbade me to drink, except for when I'm pregnant. I wonder if it isn't bad for me when I'm not... ah, whatever... So why don't you drink your tea and calm yourself a little?"
Elizabeth almost jumped up with surprise; she didn't expect this talkative little woman to be able to notice her sadness and distress. She felt angry.
"I do not want to outstay my welcome, Mademoiselle Dou," she said. "I am really grateful for your hospitality, and as I have one favour to ask you, I'd be even more grateful if you would grant it, which I do not doubt."
For the first moment it was nice to see that playful smile disappear from Mlle Dou's face, but before Elizabeth could taste her triumph properly, she was startled to see how fast her foe's expression changed from jauntiness to ice-cold dignity. She washed her hands in a little pot, wiped them, stood up and threw the serviette on the virginal.
"I am very curious why you don't doubt my kindness," she said defiantly, "while you consider me not worthy even to offer you a cup of tea. Oh well... I suppose you think it's called proper conduct, so I don't blame you..."
She laughed again, and Elizabeth felt amused against her will. It seemed as if every time Mlle Dou wanted to say something 'proper', a different person inside her was trying to interrupt her.
"So please, tell me what is that you want," she finished plainly, all severe again.
Elizabeth stood up too.
"I came here to ask you for the pearl necklace that my father gave you." She took a deep breath. "That necklace is very dear to me."
Mlle Dou smiled, crooking her head.
"It is very dear to me, too," she said.
"I do not doubt that," said Elizabeth, fighting her disgust. "I know I may be asking for an impossible thing, but you have to understand me. Perhaps you already know it, but that pearl necklace was... it belonged to my dead mother."
Mlle Dou closed her eyes for a moment. When she spoke, her voice was dry and furious.
"Mrs Turner," she said, "I see I'm supposed to be moved by what you've just told me. Well, I am not. Do you know why?"
In this moment it dawned upon Elizabeth that Isabella Dou was probably much older than her.
"No," she said with a lump in her throat.
"I know better than you what a mother is. No, not because I'm pregnant! I had a mother myself, would you know?... and the very word means nothing to me. You still believe in the whole motherly love thing, I see, but I don't. Nobody softens me by using their mother as a shield. You need to grow up, Mrs Turner." She smiled. "What about respecting your father's choice?"
Elizabeth clenched her fists.
"So you do insult your guests, after all," she said coldly. "I came here with a polite request. How could I know that you don't respect your own mother?"
"What do you call 'a polite request'? You refuse to eat with me and you demand something from me in my own house?"
"I do not demand anything. I asked you for a thing that never belonged to you."
"Well, it does now," Mlle Dou observed cheerfully. "And by a strange coincidence it happens to be very, very expensive."
Elizabeth calmed down surprisingly quickly. Ah, it's true that the only language these creatures understand is the language of gold.
"Mademoiselle Dou," she said, "why didn't you say so? I am more than willing to buy it from you. I'm sure we can come to an agreement. Name your price, if you please, and I will pay you gladly."
"Oh, Mrs Turner," said Mlle Dou, her childish smile back again, "please sit down and drink your tea first. Oh, God, it's cold already. Soooophie!"
Elizabeth didn't protest, when the old woman took away Mlle Dou's dishes and brought them new tea. She even took a piece of a strange brown bread with dried fruit. She began to feel hungry after all that fighting. Mlle Dou smiled at her.
"Not poisonous, is it?" she asked, spooling one of her dark locks on her tiny finger.
"Oh no, it's very good, in fact," Elizabeth agreed.
"Do you want the recipe?"
"No, thank you," Elizabeth smiled. She felt a sudden wave of sympathy towards the little Isabella. She was perhaps a little bit greedy, but looked good at heart and somewhat childishly naive. It was impossible to dislike her, really. Elizabeth wondered where her deep, vowel-rounding accent was from.
"Excuse me, were you born in London, Mademoiselle Dou?"
"No, I am not a Londoner." She chuckled. "But I moved to London when I was very, very little. My family was traveling a lot."
Elizabeth watched her discreetly. Was she Irish, then? No, with these huge black eyes and nose... impossible. Jewish?... Elizabeth felt slightly panicked. But no, she said something about the Holy Virgin, and besides... If the Governor chose a Jewess for his mistress, there'd be a huge scandal already... she couldn't be a Gypsy, either. Her name suggested that she could be French, but again, she shouldn't be trusted; and it might well be that she didn't know her own father's name at all.
"Was your family big?"
"No," she chuckled again. "It was very, very small, in fact. Do you like more tea, Mrs Turner?"
Elizabeth realized that it wasn't very delicate of her to inquire about Mlle Dou's family. Ah, what did she care anyway? She should go home. What if Will... no, he wouldn't leave Lord Yeardley's party, Elizabeth knew it, but the sudden hope and longing stirred in her. She should finish the business here as quickly as possible.
"No, thank you," she said politely, but firmly. "I should be going soon. Please, tell me how much would you like me to pay for the necklace, and I won't bother you any more today."
Mlle Dou touched her lips with the spooled lock and smiled lightly, leaning back a little.
"But I didn't say I am selling the necklace," she whispered.
Elizabeth felt as if she was falling into a ravine.
"B-but you did," she protested weakly.
"Oh no, Mrs Turner, I didn't. I asked you to sit and have tea with me, that's all."
"I wouldn't have drunk the tea if I hadn't been sure that you will sell the necklace..."
"Yes, I know, but it's you who persuaded yourself that I will," said Mlle Dou with a delightful smile, rocking in the chair like a spoiled child.
Elizabeth looked at her, blinking, trying desperately to collect her thoughts. The most dangerous woman she met in her life had been Anamaria, the beautiful pirate who had fought alongside herself, Jack Sparrow and Will against Barbossa. Elizabeth remembered the moment when they realized that the battle was lost and Anamaria proposed to give her, Elizabeth, over to Barbossa, pressing the pistol to her head. But now Elizabeth thought that proud and strong Anamaria with her pistols tucked in her trousers wasn't even half as fearsome as this tiny, weak, heavily pregnant, vulgar little woman. Anamaria was easy to understand; Mlle Dou was not. But Elizabeth was willing to meet the challenge.
"Why won't you sell me the necklace?" she asked softly.
"Dear God, how could I?" Mlle Dou exclaimed, clasping her hands. "What would your father say to that?"
"He wouldn't notice," said Elizabeth warmly.
"Oh, I am sure he would. Some day, when we will be married." Mlle Dou leaned forward in her chair to take a good look at Elizabeth, and laughed at her horror-stricken face. "No, Mrs Turner, I'm not joking, but well, let's leave this unpleasant... or pleasant matter aside. I'm not going to sell the necklace just because you ask me to. I will say more, I refuse to sell it because you think that I would sell everything, given a good price."
"Do you really expect that my father will marry you?" Elizabeth asked through clenched teeth.
"I have chances," said Mlle Dou philosophically, scratching her nose. "Not big, seeing that upper class gentlemen are huge cowards when it comes to love, but um, your father is really sweet and easy, and maybe I can work him out... if I don't run short of patience, that is." She burst out laughing.
Elizabeth felt that she should do something. She tried to figure out what most women of her own social standing would do - slap this disrespectful creature? But she was pregnant, and Elizabeth couldn't raise her hand to somebody so fragile, moreover, she didn't want to touch her. Yell at her? But she probably wouldn't care. No, there was no way to hurt her.
There was no way to hurt her. This thought was something new to Elizabeth. It was a long time since she had met such a carefree human being. Despite her low social position, despite the disgrace surrounding her name, despite being pregnant with an illegitimate child, despite being neither beautiful nor rich, Mlle Dou seemed so light-hearted...
Why was it, Elizabeth wondered. She couldn't remember being really happy herself. She might have seemed a paragon of happiness, especially to all those jealous Port Royal ladies, but there were always cares and worries in her life - her mother's early demise, her father's strange taste in women, other people's jealousy and hatred, her family's disapproval of the marriage with Will, poor James Norrington's hurt feelings... There was only one thing that could make up for all this and help Elizabeth in finding her peace of mind; and Elizabeth felt that she was not receiving it recently. She was starving for it, she was cold and lost without it. It was Will's love.
"Do you love my father?"
Elizabeth was mortified to hear this question escape her lips. It was somebody other speaking, not Mrs Turner, not Governor's daughter; it was little Elizabeth who enjoyed climbing trees and fishing in a garden pond with little Will, and who was missing that Will so much that it hurt.
She closed her eyes, feeling so lonely, so vulnerable. She prayed that this moment would pass away. But then she sensed hot, muscat-like breath on her cheek, and a tender touch of a batiste handkerchief, catching that single heavy tear.
"There, there," Mlle Dou whispered. "'Tis very hard to be a brave girl, I know, but you are. We both are. We should be proud of ourselves. Here, hold this kerchief. It's clean, it's come from the laundry today. Cry a little, I won't watch, and then we will fight again. Um, maybe we need some more tea. Soooophie!"
"N-no," Elizabeth protested weakly.
"She won't come here. Soooophie! Bring us new teeeeea, will you?"
When she returned to her chair, Elizabeth was calm and composed again, just a little bit ashamed.
"Thank you," she said quietly. "I'll wash it and send it back by Estella, if you allow me."
"No, I demand that you leave it here, Mrs Turner. It's my favourite kerchief, I'll die without it, you see," said mlle Dou rolling her eyes. "Once we spoke to each other as becomes humans and not mechanical dolls, we could try more, don't you thi... Oh well, as you wish, whatever!..." she interrupted herself, although Elizabeth didn't say anything. "So, going back to your question..."
Elizabeth knew she should say that she didn't want to hear the answer, but she couldn't. She was almost forced to look into Mlle Dou's dark eyes, for she leaned forward and looked deeply into Elizabeth's.
"No, Mrs Turner. Don't be afraid. I do not love your father. I like him."
"H-how dare you tell me that," Elizabeth whispered.
"Tell me something that rings true. Henceforth I'll pretend that I don't hear any of your trite exclamations. There's only you and me here. Nobody will ever say that you failed to behave like a lady. You came to my house, ate with me and cried. How can you still talk to me like that?"
"What are you talking about? Why did you say that I shouldn't be afraid?"
"You know why." Isabella folded her skinny hands on her belly and smiled. "You know what a woman in love can do. You saved your boy, made him confess his love for you, and overcame all the obstacles so that you could marry him. Chapeaux-bas, Mrs Turner! I was really impressed to hear your story, and I knew you would come to visit me some day."
"I don't understand," said Elizabeth. "What does it have to do with you and my father?"
Isabella sighed.
"Think," she said. "There are two groups of people in this world. People who love and people who think that they should love, because others do. The second is bigger, of course, but you belong to the first. Nothing would stop you, when you're following your love. Your love is genuine and strong, and it crushes everything that stands in its way."
Elizabeth felt herself blush.
"These being very beautiful words, but you see," Isabella continued, "I think I can say them about me as well. If I loved your father, you would have no doubt about it. But I don't. I like him, therefore you're safe."
"Wait, please," Elizabeth said coldly. "But you want to marry him?"
"Sure I do," Isabella answered cheerfully, breaking a cookie into little pieces.
"How can you say that you can love genuinely and strongly, when you want to marry my father without love?!"
Isabella raised her head and frowned.
"Now it's me who doesn't understand," she complained.
"If you claim to know what true love is, how can you marry my father and not love him?"
She heard another burst of laughter.
"What are you talking about, Mrs Turner? Marriage and love? Look around you, most of the marriages here are arranged, aren't they? Don't you know what a marriage is? It is a contract, an agreement. No love is needed. Besides, you seem not to realize it, but I can assure you that your father doesn't love me either."
"This is not true! He loves you. I wouldn't come here if I weren't sure that he does. You are the only person he talks and thinks about all the time. He wasn't concerned at all about me marrying Will, because the only thing he was able to concentrate on was you. He gave you my mother's wedding necklace. He..."
"You are so greatly, greatly mistaken," said Isabella sharply. "You can love, but you fail to recognize if others can. Your father doesn't care about me. If he did, he would marry me long ago. If I go away tomorrow, he will be grief-stricken and sick, but he won't search for me..."
"So why do you want to marry him?!" Elizabeth interrupted angrily. She knew the answer this time, though.
"Because I'd like to be the Governor's wife, that's why," said Isabella with a smug smile. "I presume I don't need to explain what kind of benefits are connected with it."
Elizabeth bit her lips, but she couldn't say the usual 'how dare you' now, when the conversation has gone so far.
"I do not think you will succeed," she said calmly.
"Neither do I," Isabella agreed lightly. "But I will try."
"Nobody will approve it."
"Ah, I know. The whole Port Royal society against me and all that, right? Awww, I am so scared!..." She started to laugh, but suddenly scratched her nose, as if reminded of something. "Honestly speaking, my chances are very slight. But I can at least live a decent living, and the child's future will be assured as well."
Elizabeth felt uneasy. She thought about the baby. It would be her own sibling... a brother or a sister... if only, if only.... She shook her head. It was a truly revolting thought, but she couldn't help it. She looked at Isabella suspiciously.
"I am sure my father will see to that," she said slowly. "I am sure he won't let HIS child starve."
Isabella narrowed her eyes and stood up suddenly.
"Very well!..." she hissed. "You think it's not your father's child?... You are fully entitled to think whatever you want, but don't try to insult me in my own house, for you have no right to do that! Listen, this is a fair trade. I won't hurt your father - as I said, I like him."
Elizabeth wanted to say something, but it was too late; Mlle Dou was wandering through the room, waving her hands.
"I don't want to deprive you of anything. I won't try to convince you that you're really my baby's elder sister; why, I can understand it's not a pleasant idea to you!... But anyway, I won't let my child starve... But listen, Mrs Turner, you don't have to be afraid! How do you know if it's born alive? I have been pregnant before and I wasn't able to carry the child! You don't even know if I am going to be alive!... Oh, just a little tiny baby and it scares everybody to death!... F-funny..." she looked at Elizabeth and she started to laugh.
Elizabeth was shocked to find out that it wasn't Isabella's first child. How old was this woman? Didn't she miss the dead baby? Did she have a heart at all, if her only answer to anything was laughter?
"Why do you laugh?" she asked, feeling completely put out.
Mlle Dou sat back in her chair and started to fan herself with a long sleeve of her pink negligee.
"Why shouldn't I?" she wondered.
"You are talking about your dead child," Elizabeth whispered with her eyes downcast. "Was it... the child of the man you loved?... You said you can love truly and strongly..."
Isabella shook her head, apparently amused.
"No, the child wasn't his," she said simply.
"But there IS such a man," Elizabeth whispered. She couldn't believe that her father's mistress would admit so lightly that she loved - or loves - another man than the Governor.
"Yes, there is," said Mlle Dou, looking at Elizabeth with her curious eyes. Elizabeth felt as though cold pincers of foreboding were squeezing her heart.
"I wonder how he looks like," she forced herself to say. "Is he handsome?"
"I think so," said Mlle Dou proudly.
"Oh... How does his hair look like, then?"
"Brown and curly," said Mlle Dou. She was really amused.
"A... and the eyes?"
"Brown," said Mlle Dou.
"Is he skilled... can he fight?"
"I guess so."
"What is his occupation?"
Mlle Dou frowned.
"It's hard to tell it now, I reckon," she said after a while and sighed.
"Has he ever... has he ever run afoul of the law?"
"Unfortunately, yes," Mlle Dou answered, sighing again.
"Does he love you?... I mean, are you sure he belongs to you?"
"I am not so sure," Mlle Dou said with a skittish smile, leaning over the table. "He may be with another girl now, but well, who am I to judge him? Because, yes, he does love me and does belong to me anyway. He's mine."
Elizabeth was sitting on the sofa, holding convulsively on to the batiste handkerchief, almost unable to breathe. Her dress was tight, oh so tight, and the day was hot, and now she was facing the horror. She forgot her father, she didn't care about him now. All that counted was Will, who was visiting this woman and slowly falling into her trap. Brown-eyed, brown-and-curly-haired Will, Will who was skilled with the sword, Will who was a blacksmith, but wasn't working in the forge anymore, Will who had almost been sentenced to execution twice - for the theft of the Dauntless and for freeing Jack Sparrow. Will who now belonged to this insignificant, ill-mannered woman, who hadn't even half of Elizabeth's beauty, but who was so carefree and easy-going that men were drawn to her like flies to the fire. And she wanted Will as well... and probably wasn't going to let him go, because her love was strong and deep and able to remove everything from her way...
Elizabeth raised her hands slowly to touch her temples. She couldn't bring herself to say anything. She wanted this nightmare to end, she wanted to go home, to run away, but she was unable to move. She was just sitting on the unfriendly sofa, trembling.
"Oh, dear God, and now what's this? Mrs Turner!... Elizabeth... what's wrong with you? You look so pale... the dress?... ah... no, no, there's something more. Are you not feeling well? Do we need some wine?"
Elizabeth couldn't tell if that suddenly gentle concern was sincere or not. All she knew was that all her previous countenance was now shattered like glass. She wasn't able even to curse the moment in which she came to this house.
"I must go," she whispered. But before she could move, she had a pair of slender hands around her, locking her in a firm embrace.
She was so shocked that she could only wait for whatever came next. But that was it. Isabella held her and did nothing more. It was much more than Elizabeth could bear, though. She forgot what a simple embrace could do - not a loving, paternal one, which she received from her father, nor a loving, passionate one that Will used to give her - no, an embrace of a human being who wasn't bound by any obligation towards her. She didn't remember when she had last had got a similar endearment from anybody. Her mother was long dead; all her friends were much too false to bestow such a kindness upon her, and she saw through them and didn't allow herself to show her occasional weakness in front of them; and the servants and teachers weren't concerned about her either - they saw only a governor's daughter in her, not a little girl who would need some of the tenderness carefully stored somewhere in their heart's darkest corner and left to rot.
It was so strange that Mlle Dou seemed positively indifferent as to whether her offer would be accepted or rejected. In fact, she didn't care for Elizabeth's reaction; she was sure that her own decision was right, she was determined not to let Elizabeth go anyway, and her arms were unbelievably strong for such a fragile person. Elizabeth didn't want to cry; she bit her lips, but she couldn't help heavy, dry sobbing.
"Shhh, dearie, shhh," murmured Isabella, holding her still. It was soothing and fresh, and Elizabeth nestled close, very shyly and stealthily. They sat, unmoving, for a long while. The jasmine scent from the garden was very distinct now, in the last hour before sunset, and the last light of the day was softly filling the room.
"I won't give Will away," Elizabeth whispered at last. "Let me go, please. I don't need you to pity me. I won't..."
Mlle Dou let her go in an instant.
"Mary mother of God," she said. "What are you talking about?"
"Now you don't lie to me, please," said Elizabeth quietly. "You told me enough. It is Will that you love, but... you have my father already! You can keep him! I don't care! But Will, I won't..."
Mlle Dou was watching her with amazement and fascination.
"You are a bad girl, Mrs Turner," she said. "You keep hurting yourself and you don't even recognize what are you doing. But at last you understood something. You are not your father's guardian anymore; you are an adult woman and you have your love to protect."
"And I will! Be sure that I will..."
"That's all very fine," Isabella said, "but not necessary, at least not now. You are safe when it comes to that matter too. You see your Will in every man, my sweet!"
Elizabeth blinked.
"You think that every man with brown eyes and curly brown hair is William Turner?"
"You said he's skilled in swords-fighting..."
"Well, he is, I've seen him fighting. So what? Isn't, for example, Commodore Norrington skilled with swords as well?"
"You said he's run afoul of the law..."
"Not once or twice, believe me," Isabella said, chuckling.
"And it's hard to tell what his profession is now..."
"That's very true, given that I don't even know where he is now," Isabella said grudgingly. "In fact, I don't know if he's alive at all. Wouldn't be surprised if it proved otherwise."
"Do you mean that he's not here?!" Elizabeth exclaimed.
"No, he's not, heavens forbid!"
"You... you don't miss him? You don't want to be with him? What kind of man is he then?" Elizabeth was so bewildered she almost asked 'what kind of woman are you'. She thought about Will. The sole thought of being separated from him for a long time, only to be with a man she didn't love, gave her goose-bumps.
"I haven't seen him for two... or was it three years?" Isabella chuckled, but gained her solemnity quite fast this time. "I'd like to know if he's all right, but I'm sure he'll show up sooner or later... and it better be later." She looked into Elizabeth's eyes. "Don't be so surprised, Mrs Turner. You are still very young. I've seen things... you don't realize it, but skeletons moving in the moonlight aren't half as scary as human stupidity parading triumphantly in the sunlight." She laughed. "We went through fire and water together. I am in his debt and he is in mine. But we aren't children anymore..."
"Wait," Elizabeth interrupted, "you knew him from childhood?"
"Um, I was around eight, I guess," Isabella said scratching her nose, "and he was thirteen when we met for the first time. Quite the same case as you and Mr Turner, right?"
Elizabeth smiled.
"So why do you want him to stay away from Port Royal?"
"We-ell," said Isabella slowly, "I have my business here, and he means trouble. Don't look at me like that, please. There are very talented people, when it comes to getting into trouble, and he's one of them. And I would have to help him here. Oh, I'd rather have him stay where he is, if he's still alive, of course."
"Who is he?" Elizabeth asked. "What is his name?"
Isabella shook her head with a smile.
"I can't tell you that," she said plainly.
Elizabeth felt her heart beating anxiously again.
"Why can't you? Are you playing with me, then?"
"Playing with you, me? Why?"
"You saw I was upset that your love might be Will, but you didn't say anything. You watched me suffer," said Elizabeth. Her rage was beginning to rise. "Did you enjoy it? You're setting traps for me all the time. Is that what your hospitality means? You pretend to receive your guests well just to fool them, because they are at your mercy here? Are you like that to your other guests too, or only to me, because I am a woman? Speak openly, please. I'm quite accustomed to being an object of hate. There is no one better in Port Royal. All the ladies and girls here love to hate me, because they imagine I've deprived them of something. Oh yes, they don't hesitate to hug me from time to time too, so you can't mislead me at least."
Isabella was silent for awhile, with her eyes downcast. Then she sighed and looked at Elizabeth. She was squinting less than before, and she held Elizabeth's gaze calmly.
"It's good to see things how they really are," she said. "Should it flatter me to be lined up with Port Royal ladies? Maybe, but it really doesn't. Especially when it comes to hating you. I don't care what people think of me, but I'm not that cheap a woman to hate another woman because she happens to have luck with men and money. I don't hate you, Mrs Turner. Why should I? Quite on the contrary, let me assure you... if you only care." She laughed.
"I find it somewhat difficult to believe you," Elizabeth said. "Why should you differ from the crowd?"
"Why, because I do," Isabella said.
"So why are you playing with me like that?"
"You didn't come to my house as my friend," Isabella said. She smiled, seeing Elizabeth frown. "No, don't worry, I don't think you should be a friend with a kept woman. Nevertheless, you disliked me even without meeting me, and I haven't deprived you of anything yet."
"Haven't you really? What about my father, then?"
"Your father still loves you." Isabella leaned forward, widening her eyes. "Wait. Your father fancies me as a man fancies a woman - are you jealous of it?"
"What makes you think in such a dirty way," murmured Elizabeth, blushing.
"You don't need to protect your father," Isabella said. "He is an adult man. He is not betraying his wife, nor is he betraying you. As for your husband, yes, I've met him and I admit he's nice and sweet, but he's not for me. He is a family man, a soft, decent, proper young gentleman, one of those I have no inclination to love. He's not a pirate in the slightest, the only thing that could render him a pirate is you, Mrs Turner, because he loves you and he would go against his nature for you."
Elizabeth bit her lip.
"No, no need to be ashamed. This is why the ladies don't like you - because you were able to make a man love you so much. Most of them will only read about such love in their little romance books, don't you agree?" She laughed.
Elizabeth felt an irresistible urge to say something nice, something that would prove how grateful she was to Isabella for that sudden, careless kindness.
"What about the man you love? Would he sacrifice himself for you as well... going against his nature?"
"Oh..." Isabella smiled sadly, to her memories perhaps. "I don't know if it was against his nature or no, but he did for me things that not every man would do for a woman. Don't even ask me what it was," she said laughing again. "So anyway, I have my own love and you have yours, so there is no point for us to hate each other."
"So you do not hate me," Elizabeth murmured. "I've never met a woman who would sincerely tell me that, I reckon." She sighed. "There's not only Will they resent..."
"Ahhh, I know. So many ladies hate you, because they are self-styled defenders of Commodore Norrington. How funny, they are fully entitled to try their luck with him now, but he doesn't even notice them! He doesn't know that some of them exist! Well, they HAVE to blame somebody for it, and as it's rather hard to blame him, they blame you." She waved her hand. "Women hating women over men, how pathetic."
She gazed at Elizabeth suddenly, narrowing her eyes.
"Or maybe you think otherwise? Do you bear ill will towards me because of your father?" She laughed. "Oh well, let's put it straight. Do you hate me still?"
"Still?" Elizabeth was surprised. "I didn't hate you at all, and most definitely I don't hate you now." She sighed and looked down, trying to collect her new thoughts. There were so many of them. "I know, most women... daughters... would dislike you. But I think that it's more because they think they SHOULD dislike their father's choice... so they do. Well... to be honest, I don't think I should be particularly grateful to you... but in general, I don't like to use that cheap word, 'hate', to describe my feelings, and it never true in your case. Not even close." She thought for a moment, then smiled. "I think that 'curiosity' is an appropriate word."
"Ah, curiosity, yes," Isabella agreed. "Your father often says that your curiosity will be your undoing."
Elizabeth sighed. She wasn't sure if she liked the thought of her father discussing her character with Mlle Dou.
"Don't worry, he doesn't talk about you too often," Isabella said. "To tell the truth, I wasn't interested that much. I've met enough well-born damsels in my life, so I thought I have you figured... live and learn, and you'll die stupid anyway," she interrupted herself and laughed. "Never mind. You are a rare woman, Mrs Turner. There's no blind rancour against other women in you, and it's so hard to find."
"You could say the same thing about yourself," Elizabeth observed.
"You see? You are kind-hearted and courageous enough to compare yourself to me. That's ve-e-ery bad," Isabella chided with mocking indignation. "Not many ladies of your standing could do the same... Yes, there is some resemblance between you and me, Mrs Turner. We have the rare feature that nobody cares to see. Men, because they don't give a damn... oh, pardon me... how women treat each other. And women feel their cruelty towards each other is a mark of their womanhood." She laughed. "We are the pearls that don't shine, because nobody values that kind of glitter."
Elizabeth smiled. Ah, she had almost forgotten something.
"Talking about pearls..." she began cautiously.
To her surprise, Isabella shook her head.
"No, I refuse," she said. There was no malice in her look, but her voice was firm. "I won't give you your necklace back, nor will I sell it."
"But why? I think we can reach some agreement," Elizabeth said shyly.
"No, Mrs Turner. There is no enmity between us, but there is no friendship either, and there will never be. I think it's a fair statement, and you have to agree with me. You consider me an intruder, and I don't even have to mention what else. You said that 'you shouldn't be grateful to me'. I don't know why, because I'm making your father happy after all, but I understand you. I'm a disgrace to your family, you are right, and there are rules to follow and barriers to keep. You showed me a plain human kindness and I answered you. We don't step out of our places. You are the Governor's daughter and I am his kept woman - let's keep playing along these lines."
"But if you sell me the necklace, wouldn't it be a plain human kindness?"
"No, it would be too much," Isabella said with an impish smile. "I will keep my role, the more so because you want me to keep it." She scratched her nose, seeing Elizabeth's look freeze. "Wait, please, I still have something to say. The necklace stays with me as long as I'm staying in Port Royal. If anything happens and I have to leave, I will give it back to you. You have my word, if you want. Oh, and one more thing. The moment you let your father marry me, the necklace is yours as well."
tbc