A Sparrow's Daughter
By Anlei
Chapter Seven
Closing the door behind her, Annabelle sank to the floor in her room. Silently sobbing she drew her knees up to her chest and wrapped her arms around them.
Forget? How could she forget? How could she possibly turn her back on the times when she looks in the mirror and only sees half a person? How could she continue to work and knowing that the chance to find her father had passed her by? She'd live the remainder of her life feeling like a shadow of someone she'd never know how to be.
Salt tears streamed down her face and she buried her head in her arms, wishing more than anything that she could be with her mother. Whenever Annabelle ever felt desolate her mother's strong arms would bring comfort and healing. She did not have that feeling this time. This time she was left to deal with these emotions alone.
Annabelle began to get angry. Who was Norrington to say such things to her? Who was he to deny her the truth? A tiny voice in the back of her mind whispered, "He is the man who took care of you when no one else cared to." But she angrily pushed that thought back to where it came from. She was angry and the irrational part of her brain wanted her to remain that way. But the sorrow she felt was quickly overruling that notion.
The moonlight was peering brightly through her curtains and casting her modest room into a faint blue glow. Blinking, she tried to focus on what little of the night sky she could see through her window, wishing comfort from it. She stood up, her body trembling from crying, and made her way to the chair by the window. She ungracefully dropped her tired frame into it and stared out the window. Pushing it open she listened hard for the sounds of the distant waves.
Inhaling the salt air she allowed herself to wallow in her pain before being slowly lulled to sleep.
Hours passed while the rest of the house slept and yet one soul remained awake. Norrington sat in the same chair he had earlier when he last spoke to Annabelle, shrouded in partial darkness due to the dying flames. He made no move to light new ones, he barely noticed the lack of light. His heart was heavy with the thought that he had crushed the young woman deeply. He knew this day would come when she would come to him and demand to find answers. He knew from the first day all those years ago that he wouldn't be able to grant her that.
He had made a promise to himself years ago that he wouldn't, no matter how much it hurt to do. She was his responsibility now even if she hated him for it. He knew she'd never outwardly show it. She would hide away her pain until it ate away at her very soul.
If there was ever a time that Norrington wanted to loose himself in the burning taste of whiskey, it was right then.
He forced himself not to indulge in alcohol, as tempting as it sounded. No, a hangover before work would only increase his foul mood. That and his wife. He could feel himself sinking into the depths of despair by allowing all his problems to invade his thoughts. He was simply too weary to fight it all.
He relaxed in his chair and feel into a troubled sleep.
The morning came all too soon for the residents in the Norrington household. And to make matters worse both Mr. and Mrs. Norrington had no patience for anyone or anything. The tension in the air was thicker than normal and the servants wished for nothing more than to escape it. However, they were all bound by their servitude to the house and had to suffer all of its moods.
Annabelle was sullen, going about her chores in a mechanical fashion. When asked about her mood by Clara she said nothing on her true pain only that she had not slept well, which was not an entire lie.
She dreamt of the bird again, flying over the vast ocean. She felt that it was searching for something but what she did not know. It simply glided through the air with determination. Its features were hazy but she could just barely make out the black and beige stripes over a white body. The bird was proud and unrelenting, pumping the air as it flew higher and higher. But this time, something strange occurred. Its wings began to grow heavier and heavier until it began to sink. The bird crashes into the ocean. Annabelle had jolted awake, her heart beating rapidly in her chest. To add to a restless night, the chair she had fallen asleep in did little for her back and she ached horribly.
Some of the other servants commented on her mood to each other when they thought she wasn't paying attention. She ignored them for the most part. Whatever they said about her didn't matter. She simply went about her work trying to go on as if nothing in the world had changed.
That same morning Will Turner found himself walking towards the Norrington household. He felt somewhat foolish for going but never the less he continued on, leaving his eldest to take care of the smithy in his absence. He didn't say where he was going but that he would return shortly in case his wife inquired of him. Somehow between their discussion the previous night and the serving of breakfast he had made up his mind to speak with Annabelle. He kept his decision to himself not because he felt that he couldn't tell his wife (on the contrary, he'd never lied to his wife in the past and the thought of hiding something from her upset him) but he'd rather not speak without knowing anything. In his mind he truly believed that Annabelle had to be the daughter of Anamaria and Jack Sparrow, not pausing to think on the oddity of the coupling.
Arriving quicker than he realized, Will paused at the door. How could he get inside to speak with Annabelle without bringing attention to Norrington? No doubt Norrington would not enjoy knowing that he employed the daughter of one of the most slippery pirates in the Caribbean. He thought about using the back entrance but as a gentleman he deemed it improper. He was not at all accustomed to being sneaky or doing underhanded things. Even when he was younger and cavorting, with the pirate Jack he'd never quite gotten used to such acts. He may be a pirate by blood but certainly not by nature. He had been raised in the proper rules of society and now was not the time to break them, especially being married to the daughter of a governor, having two children with one on the way. If he was seen going through the back entrance, of a commodore's house no less, where the maids were working it would look rather questionable.
But he knew he couldn't knock on the front door. He backed away from the door and turned to walk back down the pathway. He paced back and forth a bit trying to think of a way to speak with Annabelle.
Fortunate for him, he was saved the trouble.
"Mr. Turner, sir?" A voice called to him, causing him to jump slightly. He hadn't expected anyone to just appear.
He looked up and saw Annabelle eyeing him cautiously. In the back of his mind he thought on how strange he seemed to her. It was almost amusing. She was holding a large bucket that he noticed was filled nearly to the brim with water that she struggled to keep from spilling all over herself. He offered to take it from her which she did albeit it hesitantly. It was nice to rest her arms.
"I'm sorry, I did not intend to look so suspicious. I would like to speak with you, if possible."
Annabelle continued to look at him strangely then nodded. She looked around for a moment then motioned for him to follow her.
"I may spare a few moments but then I must return to work." She led him to a back closet just outside the kitchen that was empty. She took the water from him then disappeared out of the door to give it to the serving staff. When she returned, she kept near the doorway in case anyone was to walk by. She did not want to appear as if she were doing anything disgraceful with Mr. Turner.
"What is the reason you wished to speak with me, Mr. Turner?" She asked, turning to him.
"Please, call me Will." She nodded as he continued on. "I came here because I need to ask you something very important."
"What do you need to ask me, Mr...Will?" She asked. It seemed that every time she was around this man he made her uncomfortable.
"It's about you're mother, you said she was a woman named Anamaria?" He asked.
She nodded.
"I'm sorry to be presumptuous but what was your father's name?"
Annabelle turned rigid at the question. Just who was this man to ask her these things?
"I never knew my father, not even his name. If you came to me to ask about him I am afraid I cannot help you." She replied her brow forming into a slight frown.
"And you're mother, do you remember much of her?" Will continued on.
Annabelle felt her throat tighten and tears spring into her eyes. It was if she couldn't escape these thoughts! Just when she managed to find some peace this man approaches her and brings the previous night's pain back.
"Why are you asking me these things?" She asked, in more of a hiss than the proper tone of voice.
"I believe that I may have once known your mother." He replied, not yet wanting to bring the possibility of Jack being her father until he knew more about her mother.
It seemed as if the world had stopped. Annabelle forgot to breathe and her eyes widened in obvious shock at his words. Her heart began to beat rapidly in her chest. Maybe she wouldn't have to leave to find the answers she needed. Maybe he knew about her past!
"You knew my mother?" She whispered moving to stand closer to him. Her eyes pleaded with him to answer.
"I believe so, miss. She may be a woman I met over 20 years ago." He watched as her face lit up at his response. She turned back to the door, looking around to make sure they were alone. There was simply not enough time for this conversation. She had to return or the others would think something was wrong.
"I would very much like to speak with you, Mr. Turner-I mean, Will. But I am afraid I have no time now, I must get back to work." Will nodded in understanding.
"Do you by chance have any free time that you may meet me at my smithy?" He asked. Smiling briefly she nodded.
"After lunch, sometimes I am given an hour or two to myself. I could meet you then."
Will smiled in return. "Then we shall speak more then."
Annabelle tried to remain calm but she found herself shaking like a leaf she was so excited. She had been given a chance to learn about her past, maybe even find contact with her father. The conversation with Norrington fled her mind at these thoughts.
Breaking into a full grin she quickly turned to leave but stopped short of the door. She turned to him.
"Wait a moment or two then return the way we came so that no one will notice you." She said before disappearing out the door. Will did as she bid him and crept out the back door in the same way he had entered. Feeling confident that he was unnoticed he made his way back to the smithy. He failed to notice one solitary gaze resting on his form fading into the distance.
Clara was unsure of what she had seen. She'd been with Annabelle since she was just a young girl and she knew she'd given the girl the proper values of a young woman. Could it be her gloomy expression was over this man? Clara refused to believe that Annabelle would disgrace herself in such a way by going about in secret with a strange man. But still the thought tugged the back of her mind.
Squaring her shoulders she went back to work, deciding to keep to herself what she had seen until she had time to later speak with the girl. She watched the girl move about the kitchen in a much lighter mood and felt a frown creasing her brow.
When lunch time rolled around she found that much to her irritation that her mistress needed her aid in planning a birthday party for her eldest son. Clara wished she could have evaded the order and spoken to Annabelle but the girl had managed to slip out of the house before she could. Now she had no choice but to wait.
AN: My apologies for the delay, mateys!
By Anlei
Chapter Seven
Closing the door behind her, Annabelle sank to the floor in her room. Silently sobbing she drew her knees up to her chest and wrapped her arms around them.
Forget? How could she forget? How could she possibly turn her back on the times when she looks in the mirror and only sees half a person? How could she continue to work and knowing that the chance to find her father had passed her by? She'd live the remainder of her life feeling like a shadow of someone she'd never know how to be.
Salt tears streamed down her face and she buried her head in her arms, wishing more than anything that she could be with her mother. Whenever Annabelle ever felt desolate her mother's strong arms would bring comfort and healing. She did not have that feeling this time. This time she was left to deal with these emotions alone.
Annabelle began to get angry. Who was Norrington to say such things to her? Who was he to deny her the truth? A tiny voice in the back of her mind whispered, "He is the man who took care of you when no one else cared to." But she angrily pushed that thought back to where it came from. She was angry and the irrational part of her brain wanted her to remain that way. But the sorrow she felt was quickly overruling that notion.
The moonlight was peering brightly through her curtains and casting her modest room into a faint blue glow. Blinking, she tried to focus on what little of the night sky she could see through her window, wishing comfort from it. She stood up, her body trembling from crying, and made her way to the chair by the window. She ungracefully dropped her tired frame into it and stared out the window. Pushing it open she listened hard for the sounds of the distant waves.
Inhaling the salt air she allowed herself to wallow in her pain before being slowly lulled to sleep.
Hours passed while the rest of the house slept and yet one soul remained awake. Norrington sat in the same chair he had earlier when he last spoke to Annabelle, shrouded in partial darkness due to the dying flames. He made no move to light new ones, he barely noticed the lack of light. His heart was heavy with the thought that he had crushed the young woman deeply. He knew this day would come when she would come to him and demand to find answers. He knew from the first day all those years ago that he wouldn't be able to grant her that.
He had made a promise to himself years ago that he wouldn't, no matter how much it hurt to do. She was his responsibility now even if she hated him for it. He knew she'd never outwardly show it. She would hide away her pain until it ate away at her very soul.
If there was ever a time that Norrington wanted to loose himself in the burning taste of whiskey, it was right then.
He forced himself not to indulge in alcohol, as tempting as it sounded. No, a hangover before work would only increase his foul mood. That and his wife. He could feel himself sinking into the depths of despair by allowing all his problems to invade his thoughts. He was simply too weary to fight it all.
He relaxed in his chair and feel into a troubled sleep.
The morning came all too soon for the residents in the Norrington household. And to make matters worse both Mr. and Mrs. Norrington had no patience for anyone or anything. The tension in the air was thicker than normal and the servants wished for nothing more than to escape it. However, they were all bound by their servitude to the house and had to suffer all of its moods.
Annabelle was sullen, going about her chores in a mechanical fashion. When asked about her mood by Clara she said nothing on her true pain only that she had not slept well, which was not an entire lie.
She dreamt of the bird again, flying over the vast ocean. She felt that it was searching for something but what she did not know. It simply glided through the air with determination. Its features were hazy but she could just barely make out the black and beige stripes over a white body. The bird was proud and unrelenting, pumping the air as it flew higher and higher. But this time, something strange occurred. Its wings began to grow heavier and heavier until it began to sink. The bird crashes into the ocean. Annabelle had jolted awake, her heart beating rapidly in her chest. To add to a restless night, the chair she had fallen asleep in did little for her back and she ached horribly.
Some of the other servants commented on her mood to each other when they thought she wasn't paying attention. She ignored them for the most part. Whatever they said about her didn't matter. She simply went about her work trying to go on as if nothing in the world had changed.
That same morning Will Turner found himself walking towards the Norrington household. He felt somewhat foolish for going but never the less he continued on, leaving his eldest to take care of the smithy in his absence. He didn't say where he was going but that he would return shortly in case his wife inquired of him. Somehow between their discussion the previous night and the serving of breakfast he had made up his mind to speak with Annabelle. He kept his decision to himself not because he felt that he couldn't tell his wife (on the contrary, he'd never lied to his wife in the past and the thought of hiding something from her upset him) but he'd rather not speak without knowing anything. In his mind he truly believed that Annabelle had to be the daughter of Anamaria and Jack Sparrow, not pausing to think on the oddity of the coupling.
Arriving quicker than he realized, Will paused at the door. How could he get inside to speak with Annabelle without bringing attention to Norrington? No doubt Norrington would not enjoy knowing that he employed the daughter of one of the most slippery pirates in the Caribbean. He thought about using the back entrance but as a gentleman he deemed it improper. He was not at all accustomed to being sneaky or doing underhanded things. Even when he was younger and cavorting, with the pirate Jack he'd never quite gotten used to such acts. He may be a pirate by blood but certainly not by nature. He had been raised in the proper rules of society and now was not the time to break them, especially being married to the daughter of a governor, having two children with one on the way. If he was seen going through the back entrance, of a commodore's house no less, where the maids were working it would look rather questionable.
But he knew he couldn't knock on the front door. He backed away from the door and turned to walk back down the pathway. He paced back and forth a bit trying to think of a way to speak with Annabelle.
Fortunate for him, he was saved the trouble.
"Mr. Turner, sir?" A voice called to him, causing him to jump slightly. He hadn't expected anyone to just appear.
He looked up and saw Annabelle eyeing him cautiously. In the back of his mind he thought on how strange he seemed to her. It was almost amusing. She was holding a large bucket that he noticed was filled nearly to the brim with water that she struggled to keep from spilling all over herself. He offered to take it from her which she did albeit it hesitantly. It was nice to rest her arms.
"I'm sorry, I did not intend to look so suspicious. I would like to speak with you, if possible."
Annabelle continued to look at him strangely then nodded. She looked around for a moment then motioned for him to follow her.
"I may spare a few moments but then I must return to work." She led him to a back closet just outside the kitchen that was empty. She took the water from him then disappeared out of the door to give it to the serving staff. When she returned, she kept near the doorway in case anyone was to walk by. She did not want to appear as if she were doing anything disgraceful with Mr. Turner.
"What is the reason you wished to speak with me, Mr. Turner?" She asked, turning to him.
"Please, call me Will." She nodded as he continued on. "I came here because I need to ask you something very important."
"What do you need to ask me, Mr...Will?" She asked. It seemed that every time she was around this man he made her uncomfortable.
"It's about you're mother, you said she was a woman named Anamaria?" He asked.
She nodded.
"I'm sorry to be presumptuous but what was your father's name?"
Annabelle turned rigid at the question. Just who was this man to ask her these things?
"I never knew my father, not even his name. If you came to me to ask about him I am afraid I cannot help you." She replied her brow forming into a slight frown.
"And you're mother, do you remember much of her?" Will continued on.
Annabelle felt her throat tighten and tears spring into her eyes. It was if she couldn't escape these thoughts! Just when she managed to find some peace this man approaches her and brings the previous night's pain back.
"Why are you asking me these things?" She asked, in more of a hiss than the proper tone of voice.
"I believe that I may have once known your mother." He replied, not yet wanting to bring the possibility of Jack being her father until he knew more about her mother.
It seemed as if the world had stopped. Annabelle forgot to breathe and her eyes widened in obvious shock at his words. Her heart began to beat rapidly in her chest. Maybe she wouldn't have to leave to find the answers she needed. Maybe he knew about her past!
"You knew my mother?" She whispered moving to stand closer to him. Her eyes pleaded with him to answer.
"I believe so, miss. She may be a woman I met over 20 years ago." He watched as her face lit up at his response. She turned back to the door, looking around to make sure they were alone. There was simply not enough time for this conversation. She had to return or the others would think something was wrong.
"I would very much like to speak with you, Mr. Turner-I mean, Will. But I am afraid I have no time now, I must get back to work." Will nodded in understanding.
"Do you by chance have any free time that you may meet me at my smithy?" He asked. Smiling briefly she nodded.
"After lunch, sometimes I am given an hour or two to myself. I could meet you then."
Will smiled in return. "Then we shall speak more then."
Annabelle tried to remain calm but she found herself shaking like a leaf she was so excited. She had been given a chance to learn about her past, maybe even find contact with her father. The conversation with Norrington fled her mind at these thoughts.
Breaking into a full grin she quickly turned to leave but stopped short of the door. She turned to him.
"Wait a moment or two then return the way we came so that no one will notice you." She said before disappearing out the door. Will did as she bid him and crept out the back door in the same way he had entered. Feeling confident that he was unnoticed he made his way back to the smithy. He failed to notice one solitary gaze resting on his form fading into the distance.
Clara was unsure of what she had seen. She'd been with Annabelle since she was just a young girl and she knew she'd given the girl the proper values of a young woman. Could it be her gloomy expression was over this man? Clara refused to believe that Annabelle would disgrace herself in such a way by going about in secret with a strange man. But still the thought tugged the back of her mind.
Squaring her shoulders she went back to work, deciding to keep to herself what she had seen until she had time to later speak with the girl. She watched the girl move about the kitchen in a much lighter mood and felt a frown creasing her brow.
When lunch time rolled around she found that much to her irritation that her mistress needed her aid in planning a birthday party for her eldest son. Clara wished she could have evaded the order and spoken to Annabelle but the girl had managed to slip out of the house before she could. Now she had no choice but to wait.
AN: My apologies for the delay, mateys!