Savvy-Rum-Drinker: All these complements; what can I say! But I'm glad you
liked the 'Jack' chappie. There's more of him coming, I promise, just a
little later. And by the way, add a new chapter to your story because IT'S
INTERESTING AND I WANT TO READ MORE!!!!! ;)
A/N: As far as writing goes (think wording and flowery stuff), I think this chapter here is one of the better ones. *sigh* Still: it's up to you to decide that. R&R!
============================================
Elizabeth walked slowly down the left arm of the circular promenade leading to the sluice gate marking the entrance to and exit of Terris Alcote, carefully putting one foot in front of the other in quiet meditation as she watched the ground. Her forehead was pulled into a small worried frown and her lips pouted outward ever so slightly as she ruminated over her afternoon.
Terris Alcote was the grandest home in all of Port Royal, second only to Avery Hall - where the Norringtons kept residence - and equal to the Governor's Mansion that overlooked it from the top of the hill near the Fort. It was three stories tall and nearly fifty feet in length, lined with the popular twelve-paned windows and trimmed with genuine sculpted wooden moldings shipped directly from England. Thick Grecian columns graced the front portico and magnificent flowered gardens gave the desired effect of intimidation to any less-worthy of the passers' by.
It was a house to make anyone covetous, perhaps most of all Elizabeth, for the Alcote was the home of the retired governor Weatherby Swann, her father. And it did make her covetous: very, very much so. In fact - though she never would admit it to anyone, even herself - she could barely stand to look at the house without filling with a torrid and inexpressible jealousy.
Since her marriage, Elizabeth had lived in the same little town home on Darby Lane. Will had scraped up enough money from his savings to buy it for them before the wedding and while it was quite the opposite of what she had been used to she accepted it without complaint. Her father had offered her a quaint little villa on Hereford near the Smithy, but Elizabeth had made a conscious decision then, and long before she'd even thought of Will as a suitor, not to accept her father's charity. She would make it on her own, so she thought - it shouldn't be too hard. Afterwards, she realized, it was more difficult than she had dreamed.
After three years the strangeness of pauperism had worn almost completely away, returning only every now and then to plague her usually when she was depressed. Of the few things that brought about that wave of resentment with respect to the life she used to lead, Terris Alcote was the worst.
Elizabeth was sure that it wouldn't have been so bad if only her father didn't pity her. She rather disliked visiting him now for fear of repeating their interludes over again: long, mournful pauses in conversation whenever she talked about her week, continual hints at what Mr. Swann could give her to make her laborious existence easier if she'd only ask, and the constant haranguing about her home life and her general well-being. Elizabeth was sick unto death of being questioned about her well-being, especially in such pitying tones, as if she crawled on her belly day and night polishing boots just to make sure she didn't starve. It was usually after questions such as this that she ended the conversation abruptly and left, thinking herself well off for once.
In such she was divided. Her soul was torn in two parts: one part wishing to be wealthy again, living the life of luxury and ease, the other stubbornly resisting the lure of the lap of idleness by a firm and conscious decision to live out her own time as she was able. This without conducing beneficence from commiserating relatives, naturally.
A small butterfly came fluttering over the gravel walk in front of her, coming to rest on a pink hued geranium that bobbed close by her feet. She was vaguely aware of a fat bee that was wandering carelessly nearby and although her mind remained a million miles away, she kept a close and careful watch on the insect. Elizabeth had a sudden urge to turn around and see if her father was watching her, then decided against it because she knew that he would be.
She hated that.
It aggravated her that her father just simply could not accept her status as 'below wealth.' It meant that she was below Society, and he still asked her how she was able to live with that. Elizabeth told him again and again that the very last thing she ever wanted was to be a part of the sedate and extensively vitriolic Georgian society mill, and she meant it. That was one of the benefits of being the Blacksmith's wife. You weren't restricted by the multiple social mores that Society as a whole placed inevitably on the shoulders of the wealthy.
The bee was flying closer now, so Elizabeth quickened her pace in order to pass it in safety. She reached the front gate and threw a quick glance over her shoulder before she could stop herself. There, in one of the upper windows of the Alcote's east wing stood Weatherby Swann. He was watching her, like she had supposed he would be, with a look on his face that expressed an apparent feeling of pity.
Elizabeth caught his gaze with hers momentarily, then turned away with a scowl. Feeling a little hotheaded, she called to Estrella who was following her and holding tightly to little Henry's hand. The baby seemed ready to burst from his seams as he pointed to everything in the garden, asking what it was and wanting to run away the whole time.
"Come, Estrella," Elizabeth said, smiling a little through her distress at her son who, even at two, was swiftly becoming a mischief-maker of extreme proportions. Estrella looked up at her mistress a little wildly as she tugged in vain at Henry's arm.
"Will is soon to come home and we must hurry to make the dinner," Elizabeth called to the maid. Estrella nodded. Her grip loosened suddenly on the baby who took off running down the walk toward his mother with a delighted giggle at having escaped. Elizabeth reached down to scoop up her son as he reached her.
"I think I'll hold him for awhile," she told Estrella. "As you wish ma'am," the latter responded tiredly.
There was no carriage waiting for them at the road (Will could not afford to keep one) but Elizabeth was used to this and turned resolutely out in the direction of D. Lane and her small house. Estrella followed primly with her hands clasped deferentially in front of her.
"I wonder what we should make for supper tonight," Elizabeth said conversationally as they walked slowly down a rather deserted alley lane on their way to Darby.
Estrella was about to answer when Elizabeth stopped suddenly and hushed her.
A man walked slowly from around a corner and came to a halt in the center of the road. He was wearing a long brocaded coat and boots of the kind rarely seen on anyone but Pirates. His head was bent low and his face was hidden by a large and rather obsequious hat.
Elizabeth's pulse quickened tenfold.
Quickly she glanced around, keeping a firm hand on Estrella's arm in order to make her stay completely still. The alley was completely empty, and an eerie silence reigned around them as they stood hesitantly on the spot. Estrella came closer to her mistress instinctively and even Henry huddled smaller in the crook of Elizabeth's arm.
Elizabeth said nothing and only hoped that the man would go away and leave them be. She watched him tentatively, preying on every movement in a silent self-preparation to flee if the need called for it. The man continued to stand there, blocking their path, and finally Elizabeth decided it was time to educate Estrella with an optional plan of escape.
"We'll take the other route," she whispered discreetly at her maid, "Just turn slowly, and walk away. Try not to attract attention, that is; don't look like you're running away."
Estrella nodded solemnly.
With a little smile in false confidence, Elizabeth started to follow her plan into action when the man spoke.
"Mrs. Turner?"
Elizabeth looked back at him curiously.
"Yes?" she answered hesitantly.
The man came forward and Elizabeth felt Estrella take a sudden jump backward.
"Run ma'am," the maid whispered fiercely.
"No," Elizabeth replied. "Wait just a moment." She never knew why she said that, but it suddenly seemed just as reasonable for the stranger to be well intentioned as she had supposed him not to be.
When he had come within a close two feet of them the man looked up. Elizabeth started violently and Estrella gasped most impolitely in shock at his eyes. Suddenly Elizabeth recognized him as the sailor who had stared so boldly at her through the window when she was polishing her silver not long ago.
She frowned and prepared to say something sharp when the stranger suddenly took her hand and raised it gently to his lips.
"My Lady," he said in a deep, sultry voice that echoed to Elizabeth's marrow. She blushed prettily, unexpectedly charmed, but she did not let down her guard.
"I do not believe we have met, sir," Elizabeth said.
The man smiled at her.
"Forgive me," he said apologetically, "I am James Wilde...Captain James Wilde."
Elizabeth made a little curtsey. "Good day to you. Unfortunately, I cannot stay to talk as I have duties at the home calling me." She nodded curtly. "It was a pleasure."
She turned to leave but the man kept a tight grip on her hand.
"Elizabeth..." he said suddenly.
Estrella looked at her mistress in tremulous aggrievement as she waited for her to reply. Elizabeth recovered from her shock and faced Wilde with narrowed eyes.
"How is it that you know my name?" she asked.
Wilde shrugged. "I've asked different people." He looked seriously into her face. "I've been watching you for some time."
Elizabeth's heart started to pound.
"Oh?" she asked in anger. "May I ask why?"
The Captain took her hand in both of his as he replied earnestly, "Because, in all my life, I've never seen anyone so beautiful as you are."
A little flattered but still extremely wary, Elizabeth looked the man in the face. She was struck momentarily dumb at his words but her speech was impaired mostly by the indecision of what to say to such a declaration. Wilde, luckily, kept talking and thus saved her from an embarrassing silence.
"Many women would leap at the chance I am prepared to offer you," he said.
"What chance is this?"
Wilde grinned. "The chance to come with me on my ship." Elizabeth opened her mouth in utter disbelief.
"You would live in the richest manner," the Captain assured her. "I am very wealthy, and would provide you with anything you desire. Jewels? Diamonds even? I can give you these things..."
It was all very sudden, but Elizabeth was so repulsed by the pure unbridled audacity of him that she replied instantly.
"Absolutely not!" she said, horrified. "How dare you proposition me in such a manner! It is uncalled for!" She tried to pull away by Wilde grasped her hand tightly and would not let her go.
Estrella screamed.
"Take the baby!" Elizabeth ordered her, handing Henry over. Estrella bundled him in her arms and stumbled away down the alley. "Call for help!" Elizabeth shrieked. She felt Wilde's hand close over her mouth.
"Why are you afraid of me?" he asked. "I'd never hurt you."
"You're actions speak otherwise," Elizabeth said bitterly as the Captain removed his hand from over her face.
"Tut, tut, Elizabeth," Wilde remonstrated. "You didn't tell me to let you go. And I would not have silenced you if you hadn't gotten so testy with me." He leaned in closer as if to inspect her as he said slowly, "You think I'm a fiend, don't you."
Elizabeth curled and uncurled the fingers of the hand that Wilde held captive.
"I hardly know you," she said. "How can I make a judgment of someone I do know."
Wilde pulled back.
"Spoken like a lady," he commented. "I knew you were a lady ever since I saw you. No commoner would carry themselves so regally." Elizabeth cringed. Her heart was still pounding hard within her chest and the constant surge of emotions and adrenaline was beginning to make her weary.
"Let me go," she begged. "Please: I mean you no harm."
"Let you go?" Wilde repeated. "I cannot do that. Now that I've got you here I mean to have you accept my proposal."
"But I've already told you!" said Elizabeth irritably. "I will not go with you. Now please, release me!"
Wilde clenched her hand tighter so that it began to turn purple. Elizabeth winced.
"I intended to make a nice, decent, gentlemanly offer," the Captain began coldly, "but you turned me down. Now, I fear I must resort to worse means of persuasion."
Elizabeth gasped and began to struggle to get away but Wilde only laughed at her efforts as he held her hand in a painful vice. Finally Elizabeth began to cry.
"Don't do that, lady," Wilde said cruelly. "You'll like it aboard my ship. I promise. It will be so much better than here, you just need to get used to the idea."
Realizing intently that he meant to kidnap her, Elizabeth wrenched herself hard away from him, nearly pulling her arm out of the socket, and screamed at the top of her lungs. Wilde grabbed her around her waist and shoved a hand roughly over her mouth.
"Don't do that, Elizabeth, or it will be very much worse for you," he warned. Elizabeth only blinked at him through her tears and whimpered.
Suddenly the alley was filled with the sounds of many feet coming toward them and the clinking of swords and muskets as an armed flank of the British Royal Navy came surging at Wilde, led valiantly by Commodore Norrington. Wilde released Elizabeth at the sight of them and stood nonchalantly as the soldiers surrounded him and aimed their muskets directly at his head.
Elizabeth gave a cry of relief and flew into Norrington's arms. A little shocked at the gesture, Norrington held her close and looked firmly at her reprobate, would-be captor.
"What is the meaning of this?" he asked sternly.
Wilde shrugged but said nothing. Norrington surveyed him shrewdly. "It is criminal to force the hand of a lady," he said. "You, sir, are under arrest, and will be taken at this time to prison until I deem it safe for you to be released."
The captain glowered darkly at him but continued to remain silent even as two Infantrymen came up and put him in handcuffs. As they led him away, Norrington looked down at Elizabeth.
"Are you all right?" he asked. She nodded, and looked down at her feet.
It had been years since she had spoken with her former fiancé, John Norrington, and there was an awkward pause as both of them searched for something to say. Finally the commodore offered her his arm.
"Let me escort you home," he said gently.
A/N: As far as writing goes (think wording and flowery stuff), I think this chapter here is one of the better ones. *sigh* Still: it's up to you to decide that. R&R!
============================================
Elizabeth walked slowly down the left arm of the circular promenade leading to the sluice gate marking the entrance to and exit of Terris Alcote, carefully putting one foot in front of the other in quiet meditation as she watched the ground. Her forehead was pulled into a small worried frown and her lips pouted outward ever so slightly as she ruminated over her afternoon.
Terris Alcote was the grandest home in all of Port Royal, second only to Avery Hall - where the Norringtons kept residence - and equal to the Governor's Mansion that overlooked it from the top of the hill near the Fort. It was three stories tall and nearly fifty feet in length, lined with the popular twelve-paned windows and trimmed with genuine sculpted wooden moldings shipped directly from England. Thick Grecian columns graced the front portico and magnificent flowered gardens gave the desired effect of intimidation to any less-worthy of the passers' by.
It was a house to make anyone covetous, perhaps most of all Elizabeth, for the Alcote was the home of the retired governor Weatherby Swann, her father. And it did make her covetous: very, very much so. In fact - though she never would admit it to anyone, even herself - she could barely stand to look at the house without filling with a torrid and inexpressible jealousy.
Since her marriage, Elizabeth had lived in the same little town home on Darby Lane. Will had scraped up enough money from his savings to buy it for them before the wedding and while it was quite the opposite of what she had been used to she accepted it without complaint. Her father had offered her a quaint little villa on Hereford near the Smithy, but Elizabeth had made a conscious decision then, and long before she'd even thought of Will as a suitor, not to accept her father's charity. She would make it on her own, so she thought - it shouldn't be too hard. Afterwards, she realized, it was more difficult than she had dreamed.
After three years the strangeness of pauperism had worn almost completely away, returning only every now and then to plague her usually when she was depressed. Of the few things that brought about that wave of resentment with respect to the life she used to lead, Terris Alcote was the worst.
Elizabeth was sure that it wouldn't have been so bad if only her father didn't pity her. She rather disliked visiting him now for fear of repeating their interludes over again: long, mournful pauses in conversation whenever she talked about her week, continual hints at what Mr. Swann could give her to make her laborious existence easier if she'd only ask, and the constant haranguing about her home life and her general well-being. Elizabeth was sick unto death of being questioned about her well-being, especially in such pitying tones, as if she crawled on her belly day and night polishing boots just to make sure she didn't starve. It was usually after questions such as this that she ended the conversation abruptly and left, thinking herself well off for once.
In such she was divided. Her soul was torn in two parts: one part wishing to be wealthy again, living the life of luxury and ease, the other stubbornly resisting the lure of the lap of idleness by a firm and conscious decision to live out her own time as she was able. This without conducing beneficence from commiserating relatives, naturally.
A small butterfly came fluttering over the gravel walk in front of her, coming to rest on a pink hued geranium that bobbed close by her feet. She was vaguely aware of a fat bee that was wandering carelessly nearby and although her mind remained a million miles away, she kept a close and careful watch on the insect. Elizabeth had a sudden urge to turn around and see if her father was watching her, then decided against it because she knew that he would be.
She hated that.
It aggravated her that her father just simply could not accept her status as 'below wealth.' It meant that she was below Society, and he still asked her how she was able to live with that. Elizabeth told him again and again that the very last thing she ever wanted was to be a part of the sedate and extensively vitriolic Georgian society mill, and she meant it. That was one of the benefits of being the Blacksmith's wife. You weren't restricted by the multiple social mores that Society as a whole placed inevitably on the shoulders of the wealthy.
The bee was flying closer now, so Elizabeth quickened her pace in order to pass it in safety. She reached the front gate and threw a quick glance over her shoulder before she could stop herself. There, in one of the upper windows of the Alcote's east wing stood Weatherby Swann. He was watching her, like she had supposed he would be, with a look on his face that expressed an apparent feeling of pity.
Elizabeth caught his gaze with hers momentarily, then turned away with a scowl. Feeling a little hotheaded, she called to Estrella who was following her and holding tightly to little Henry's hand. The baby seemed ready to burst from his seams as he pointed to everything in the garden, asking what it was and wanting to run away the whole time.
"Come, Estrella," Elizabeth said, smiling a little through her distress at her son who, even at two, was swiftly becoming a mischief-maker of extreme proportions. Estrella looked up at her mistress a little wildly as she tugged in vain at Henry's arm.
"Will is soon to come home and we must hurry to make the dinner," Elizabeth called to the maid. Estrella nodded. Her grip loosened suddenly on the baby who took off running down the walk toward his mother with a delighted giggle at having escaped. Elizabeth reached down to scoop up her son as he reached her.
"I think I'll hold him for awhile," she told Estrella. "As you wish ma'am," the latter responded tiredly.
There was no carriage waiting for them at the road (Will could not afford to keep one) but Elizabeth was used to this and turned resolutely out in the direction of D. Lane and her small house. Estrella followed primly with her hands clasped deferentially in front of her.
"I wonder what we should make for supper tonight," Elizabeth said conversationally as they walked slowly down a rather deserted alley lane on their way to Darby.
Estrella was about to answer when Elizabeth stopped suddenly and hushed her.
A man walked slowly from around a corner and came to a halt in the center of the road. He was wearing a long brocaded coat and boots of the kind rarely seen on anyone but Pirates. His head was bent low and his face was hidden by a large and rather obsequious hat.
Elizabeth's pulse quickened tenfold.
Quickly she glanced around, keeping a firm hand on Estrella's arm in order to make her stay completely still. The alley was completely empty, and an eerie silence reigned around them as they stood hesitantly on the spot. Estrella came closer to her mistress instinctively and even Henry huddled smaller in the crook of Elizabeth's arm.
Elizabeth said nothing and only hoped that the man would go away and leave them be. She watched him tentatively, preying on every movement in a silent self-preparation to flee if the need called for it. The man continued to stand there, blocking their path, and finally Elizabeth decided it was time to educate Estrella with an optional plan of escape.
"We'll take the other route," she whispered discreetly at her maid, "Just turn slowly, and walk away. Try not to attract attention, that is; don't look like you're running away."
Estrella nodded solemnly.
With a little smile in false confidence, Elizabeth started to follow her plan into action when the man spoke.
"Mrs. Turner?"
Elizabeth looked back at him curiously.
"Yes?" she answered hesitantly.
The man came forward and Elizabeth felt Estrella take a sudden jump backward.
"Run ma'am," the maid whispered fiercely.
"No," Elizabeth replied. "Wait just a moment." She never knew why she said that, but it suddenly seemed just as reasonable for the stranger to be well intentioned as she had supposed him not to be.
When he had come within a close two feet of them the man looked up. Elizabeth started violently and Estrella gasped most impolitely in shock at his eyes. Suddenly Elizabeth recognized him as the sailor who had stared so boldly at her through the window when she was polishing her silver not long ago.
She frowned and prepared to say something sharp when the stranger suddenly took her hand and raised it gently to his lips.
"My Lady," he said in a deep, sultry voice that echoed to Elizabeth's marrow. She blushed prettily, unexpectedly charmed, but she did not let down her guard.
"I do not believe we have met, sir," Elizabeth said.
The man smiled at her.
"Forgive me," he said apologetically, "I am James Wilde...Captain James Wilde."
Elizabeth made a little curtsey. "Good day to you. Unfortunately, I cannot stay to talk as I have duties at the home calling me." She nodded curtly. "It was a pleasure."
She turned to leave but the man kept a tight grip on her hand.
"Elizabeth..." he said suddenly.
Estrella looked at her mistress in tremulous aggrievement as she waited for her to reply. Elizabeth recovered from her shock and faced Wilde with narrowed eyes.
"How is it that you know my name?" she asked.
Wilde shrugged. "I've asked different people." He looked seriously into her face. "I've been watching you for some time."
Elizabeth's heart started to pound.
"Oh?" she asked in anger. "May I ask why?"
The Captain took her hand in both of his as he replied earnestly, "Because, in all my life, I've never seen anyone so beautiful as you are."
A little flattered but still extremely wary, Elizabeth looked the man in the face. She was struck momentarily dumb at his words but her speech was impaired mostly by the indecision of what to say to such a declaration. Wilde, luckily, kept talking and thus saved her from an embarrassing silence.
"Many women would leap at the chance I am prepared to offer you," he said.
"What chance is this?"
Wilde grinned. "The chance to come with me on my ship." Elizabeth opened her mouth in utter disbelief.
"You would live in the richest manner," the Captain assured her. "I am very wealthy, and would provide you with anything you desire. Jewels? Diamonds even? I can give you these things..."
It was all very sudden, but Elizabeth was so repulsed by the pure unbridled audacity of him that she replied instantly.
"Absolutely not!" she said, horrified. "How dare you proposition me in such a manner! It is uncalled for!" She tried to pull away by Wilde grasped her hand tightly and would not let her go.
Estrella screamed.
"Take the baby!" Elizabeth ordered her, handing Henry over. Estrella bundled him in her arms and stumbled away down the alley. "Call for help!" Elizabeth shrieked. She felt Wilde's hand close over her mouth.
"Why are you afraid of me?" he asked. "I'd never hurt you."
"You're actions speak otherwise," Elizabeth said bitterly as the Captain removed his hand from over her face.
"Tut, tut, Elizabeth," Wilde remonstrated. "You didn't tell me to let you go. And I would not have silenced you if you hadn't gotten so testy with me." He leaned in closer as if to inspect her as he said slowly, "You think I'm a fiend, don't you."
Elizabeth curled and uncurled the fingers of the hand that Wilde held captive.
"I hardly know you," she said. "How can I make a judgment of someone I do know."
Wilde pulled back.
"Spoken like a lady," he commented. "I knew you were a lady ever since I saw you. No commoner would carry themselves so regally." Elizabeth cringed. Her heart was still pounding hard within her chest and the constant surge of emotions and adrenaline was beginning to make her weary.
"Let me go," she begged. "Please: I mean you no harm."
"Let you go?" Wilde repeated. "I cannot do that. Now that I've got you here I mean to have you accept my proposal."
"But I've already told you!" said Elizabeth irritably. "I will not go with you. Now please, release me!"
Wilde clenched her hand tighter so that it began to turn purple. Elizabeth winced.
"I intended to make a nice, decent, gentlemanly offer," the Captain began coldly, "but you turned me down. Now, I fear I must resort to worse means of persuasion."
Elizabeth gasped and began to struggle to get away but Wilde only laughed at her efforts as he held her hand in a painful vice. Finally Elizabeth began to cry.
"Don't do that, lady," Wilde said cruelly. "You'll like it aboard my ship. I promise. It will be so much better than here, you just need to get used to the idea."
Realizing intently that he meant to kidnap her, Elizabeth wrenched herself hard away from him, nearly pulling her arm out of the socket, and screamed at the top of her lungs. Wilde grabbed her around her waist and shoved a hand roughly over her mouth.
"Don't do that, Elizabeth, or it will be very much worse for you," he warned. Elizabeth only blinked at him through her tears and whimpered.
Suddenly the alley was filled with the sounds of many feet coming toward them and the clinking of swords and muskets as an armed flank of the British Royal Navy came surging at Wilde, led valiantly by Commodore Norrington. Wilde released Elizabeth at the sight of them and stood nonchalantly as the soldiers surrounded him and aimed their muskets directly at his head.
Elizabeth gave a cry of relief and flew into Norrington's arms. A little shocked at the gesture, Norrington held her close and looked firmly at her reprobate, would-be captor.
"What is the meaning of this?" he asked sternly.
Wilde shrugged but said nothing. Norrington surveyed him shrewdly. "It is criminal to force the hand of a lady," he said. "You, sir, are under arrest, and will be taken at this time to prison until I deem it safe for you to be released."
The captain glowered darkly at him but continued to remain silent even as two Infantrymen came up and put him in handcuffs. As they led him away, Norrington looked down at Elizabeth.
"Are you all right?" he asked. She nodded, and looked down at her feet.
It had been years since she had spoken with her former fiancé, John Norrington, and there was an awkward pause as both of them searched for something to say. Finally the commodore offered her his arm.
"Let me escort you home," he said gently.