(standard disclaimer applies)
"Elizabeth, the fort is not haunted."
She planted her hands on her hips with all the authority gleaned from fourteen years of getting her way. "And just how would you know, Will Turner? I'm telling you, I heard those sounds again last night."
Will sighed, scraping away at the little chunk of wood in his hands. "I haven't heard a thing."
"You haven't been close enough," she retorted, shaking her closed fan in his face. "I was down visiting Lieutenant Pearce with Father, and that awful wailing sound started up while we were having pudding."
The boy raised a skeptical eyebrow. "And they did not think anything was amiss?"
Pink flushed her cheeks beneath her light tan. "They blamed the wind off the sea. But Will, it was perfectly still all yesterday, and in any case I know very well what the wind sounds like in all kinds of weather. This was something different. Something..." She closed her eyes, clutching a hand to her breast. "Something sinister."
"You read too many sensational stories," said Will, dropping his eyes to his work. True that she hadn't much of a bosom to heave, but when she drew attention to the dip of her bodice like that, he was likely to slice his fingers open. "There's no such thing as ghosts," he said forcefully, trying to keep his thoughts on the pale wood and not on how much he cared for the governor's daughter. Not only was she woefully out of reach, he would also lose his only friend if ever he were to express his feelings. The village children avoided him because they thought his thrice-weekly school lessons, generously provided by the governor, caused him to put on airs. And Elizabeth was the only one among the others who ever looked on him without disdain. He would have been intolerably lonely without her company.
She was not, however, terribly pleased with his company at the moment. "There are too such things as ghosts! And we are going to unravel the mystery of our very own haunting."
"'We'?" Will paused to gape at her. "How do you propose we do that?"
Elizabeth grinned fiercely. "Tonight is All Hallows. You can meet me in the garden and we will go to the fort to see the ghost for ourselves."
"That's mad!" Will protested. "We'll get in terrible trouble!"
"Not if we're careful," said Elizabeth. "It isn't as though we've never snuck out at night before."
That was true enough, though they had not done so for quite awhile – since before he'd come to the realization that he was desperately, hopelessly in love with a girl who would never notice it, or be free to love him in return even if she had. Will had the idea that seeing her by moonlight would only worsen the ache.
He tried to reason with her, as futile as that usually was. "Even if we were to come upon this ghost of yours, what then? What could we possibly do with it?"
"Will!" She laughed suddenly, her eyes crinkling. "Are you afraid?"
He scowled. "Of course not. I don't even believe that there is a ghost."
"So prove it," said Elizabeth, her smile a challenge. "Come with me tonight, and if we find that there is no ghost, you can lord it over me forever more."
Will leaned back against the wall with a protracted sigh. In the end, there was nothing he could deny her. "All right, I suppose if we go very quickly –"
Elizabeth beamed at him, catching his hand. "It will be an adventure to liven up this dull place."
Swallowing hard, Will prayed she'd release him before his palms began to sweat.
He arrived beneath Elizabeth's balcony promptly at a quarter to midnight. Cupping his hands to his mouth, he made the birdcry that was their signal. Elizabeth's face popped up at her window, eager and animated. Will glanced around nervously as she shimmied down the rose trellis. The garden was as familiar to him as the forge, yet tonight its shadows had a sinister cast.
"I'm ready, let's go," she whispered. Will noticed that she was wearing the breeches. He had outgrown this pair a month ago, and Elizabeth had managed to coax them from him. The rough homespun outlined her long, coltish legs.
He jammed his fists in his pockets. "Right."
They crept down side streets and back alleys, sticking to the shadows, shushing each other and ducking out of sight whenever they heard a sound approaching. Will knew the layout of the fort, having delivered countless orders there, so after long minutes spent trying to convince Elizabeth that they were quite close enough, he guided her around to the armory window on the ground floor. Some careless man had left it open and they were able to climb in easily.
"What do we do now?" Will hissed, somewhat comforted amid the steel and iron glinting in the moonlight.
Elizabeth reached out to run a tender hand over the hilt of a sword. "I suppose we wait."
"What if –" Will was interrupted by a loud, low sound, equal parts anger and mourning, that stirred fear in his heart.
"That's it!" Elizabeth's fingernails dug into his forearm. She was standing so near that he could feel heat rising from her body, smell the mint and chocolate on her breath. "It sounds different from in here," she whispered thoughtfully. "More of a howl than a wail."
"Do ghosts howl?"
Elizabeth bit her lip. "Perhaps it's not a ghost." The noise rang out again, making them both shiver and huddle closer together. "It may be a werewolf."
Were there wolves on the island? "What's a werewolf?" he asked.
"A man that turns into a bloodthirsty, murderous wolf every full moon," she replied, her eyes shining with excitement.
Will's stomach roiled. A ghost was one thing, but a beast that could actually harm them was another. "We ought to get out of here."
"No!" Elizabeth yanked her arm out of his grasp. "I haven't come all this way to give up now. If it is a werewolf, we can fend it off with this." She drew a silver cross from beneath her shirt.
"How will that help?"
"It's a holy object, silly," Elizabeth said. "It's consecrated, and also I think silver repels werewolves." Wrinkling her brow, she fingered the little piece of jewelry. "Or perhaps that was vampires."
The unknown thing howled a third time. Will began to back towards the window, pleading with his eyes. "I'd rather not stick around to find out, if it's all the same to you."
Before she could make up her mind to argue or to follow, the door swung open. Both children shrieked, Elizabeth reaching blindly back until she could grab Will's hand.
"What's the meaning of this?" a man's voice growled. The lantern he held aloft did not illuminate his face, but it did provide enough light for them to see the small dark shape darting between his legs, heading straight for the girl. Without thinking, Will threw himself in front of her with a defiant cry. She stumbled, sending them both crashing to the ground along with a rack of something that set up a great clatter. There was a whimper he didn't think had come from Elizabeth, a brush of fur against his hand, and a shout of, "Get back, you!"
He found himself lifted by the collar, hauled strongly to his feet. Elizabeth received the same treatment. They both stopped struggling as they recognized their captor.
"Thank you, Mr. Gillette," said Lieutenant Norrington, his voice crisp.
Gillette released Will and Elizabeth, giving them a disgruntled look. "I leave them in your hands, sir. I certainly hope you will be able to come up with a suitable punishment." As he strode out the door, Elizabeth turned her head and stuck her tongue out at his retreating back so quickly that Will barely saw it. Stifling a horrified squeak, he trod on her foot.
Norrington cleared his throat and they jumped, facing him with their chins lowered. His mouth was set in a thin, disapproving line.
"Miss Swann. Mr. Turner," he said tightly. "Do please tell me what you are doing here at this hour."
"We're very sorry, sir, it will never happen again," said Will
"We were looking for the ghost," said Elizabeth at the same time.
He held up a hand, looking pained. "One at a time, please. What's this about a...ghost?"
Standing in this well-lit office, their previous fears seemed silly and childish. Will could see that Elizabeth felt so as well, for her cheeks went pink and she lifted her head. "Surely you have heard the sounds coming from the fort of late, Lieutenant?" Will closed his eyes, half-admiring of and half-mortified by the insolence of her tone. "I've heard them on no less than four evenings this week."
Norrington leaned back in his chair, folding his hands on the desk. "Have you heard these noises as well, Mr. Turner? Can you describe them for me?"
"Err..." Will glanced at Elizabeth. She raised her eyebrows. "Well, they're a sort of crying, sir, but not like any child I've ever heard."
A sharp keen burst into the air, even nearer than before.
"There it is!" Elizabeth exclaimed.
Norrington gave them a long, measured look. Will wondered at his lack of reaction – there was no way he couldn't have heard that. Finally, without another word, he stood and went to a closet door at the back of the room.
"No trouble at all, eh?" Will muttered under his breath, watching Norrington kneel at the open door.
"Sorry," Elizabeth replied sheepishly. "How was I to know that prig would be prowling the halls on All Hallows? What is he doing?" she wondered aloud, frowning at the lieutenant. Will shrugged, equally puzzled.
"I believe this may be your ghost," said Norrington, getting to his feet with something cradled to his chest. As he turned, they could see that his burden was an armful of wriggling hound.
"A puppy?" said Elizabeth. Will saw disappointment flicker over her face, then as Norrington set the dog down and it came wobbling towards them, wide-eyed delight. "Look, Will," she said, dropping to the ground to scoop the puppy up. It bayed, voice strong and healthy for a creature so small, and licked her face. Swayed by her laughter, Will reached down to stroke velvety brown ears. The pup lapped salt from his hand.
Norrington leaned against his desk. Will was flummoxed to see the hint of a smile on his stern face. "Is your curiosity quite satisfied, Miss Swann?"
"It is," said Elizabeth, giggling as the puppy's tail thumped against her arm.
"And have you anything to say for yourselves?"
Will and Elizabeth exchanged resigned glances. "We apologize a thousand times over for deceiving our guardians and causing you trouble, Lieutenant Norrington," said Will, used to such speeches after so much time spent in Elizabeth's company. "We promise it will never happen again."
"I trust that it will not, Mr. Turner. As Mr. Brown's apprentice, your time is his to govern. As for you, Miss Swann –"
"Oh, please don't tell Father!" Elizabeth burst out. The puppy yelped as she squeezed it. "And it wasn't Will's fault, either, it was all my idea."
Norrington crossed his arms over his chest. "I ought to tell both the governor and the blacksmith without delay. But..." Again his mouth almost-but-not-quite curved. "But then again, I suppose a bit of mischief on All Hallows never did anyone harm."
Will sagged with relief. "Thank you, sir."
"Thank you, sir," Elizabeth parroted immediately. Norrington whistled and the pup, ears pricked, gave her one last lick before gamboling over to him. Elizabeth accepted Will's hand helping her to her feet.
"Would you like me to send someone to escort you home?" Norrington asked, scratching the dog's head.
Elizabeth shook her head at Will's questioning look. "No, sir, that won't be necessary," he said. "I will see Miss Swann home." She hid a grin behind her hand as she always did when he called her that.
"See that you are careful," Norrington warned.
"Yes, sir, of course," said Will. He tugged on Elizabeth's sleeve, but she paused in the doorway.
"Have you named him yet, Lieutenant?" she wanted to know.
"The pup's female, and no, I haven't," said Norrington. He gave them that unnerving almost-smile again. "What do you think of 'Fantôme?'"
Elizabeth nodded seriously. "I think it's quite appropriate." Will pulled her from the room before Norrington could change his mind about letting them go freely.
Out of necessity, they spent the journey back to her home in silence. Once they got to the garden, however, Elizabeth couldn't hold it in any longer.
"That was odd, wasn't it? To think, prim and proper Lieutenant Norrington in charge of a little puppy! At least we got our adventure – although I'm a bit sad it didn't turn out to be a real ghost. And don't say you told me so," she added.
Will declined to mention that she was going back on her word. "Why on earth would you feel that way? Why would you want to meet a real ghost?"
Elizabeth shrugged, picking at a leaf on the ivy vine. "It's rather a nice thought, isn't it, that we can see people from beyond?"
"Evil spirits?" Will shuddered. "I can't say I agree."
"Not just evil spirits," Elizabeth snapped. "Good spirits, too – kind ones. Loved ones. I used to think..." She looked down at her shoes with a bitter smile. "It's stupid, but I used to think I might see my mother again some late October night."
"Oh," said Will dumbly. He brought a hand to her elbow. "Well, in that case, maybe – maybe there are such things as ghosts."
Elizabeth's face softened. "Thank you, Will."
For once, he fought the cowardly desire to look away from her hazel eyes. Though his heart was thudding harder than it had during the frightening moments in the armory, he tilted his head, closed his eyes, and kissed her. It was a swift, light kiss, a mere touch of his lips upon hers. He pulled away when she gasped in surprise.
Before she had time to do anything more than raise a hand to her mouth, Will fled the garden.
He didn't see her at all the next day. Norrington came by in the afternoon to advise him against spending so much time with the governor's daughter. They were both growing up, he said, and Will knew very well the friendship could not last. A longer delay would only cause her pain. Will nodded, his heart breaking even as they spoke, but he knew the man was right - knew it far better than she did.
From then on, he stopped visiting the mansion. When Elizabeth came by to see him, he made excuses about his work or hid in the donkey's stall. She was persistent, but she was also proud. After a few weeks, she stopped coming. They didn't exchange a single word for the next two years.
"To tell you the truth, I already had a date in mind," says Elizabeth, sipping her tea. Will blinks at her in surprise; they have not discussed this far ahead.
"Really? What might that be?" Governor Swann asks politely.
"October the thirty-first."
Her father chuckles and takes another biscuit. "Surely you are joking, my dear. That's All Hallows Eve. It would be terribly unlucky to marry on such a day."
"You know I'm not superstitious, Father," says Elizabeth. "What do you think of it, Will?"
Will swirls the dregs of his tea in his mug. "I think it is quite appropriate."
Swann looks back and forth between them as they smile at each other across the table, and shakes his head at the eccentricities of youth.