JackSparrowsBooty: I think the reason this story wasn't reaching a lot of people is because the summary is pretty dull. I'm horrible at summaries, but then again; aren't most people? No excuse, I know. But I'm flattered that you like the fic and will try to update whenever possible
Silvaine: glad you like the story; thnx for reviewing!
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Elizabeth situated herself more comfortably in the great armchair and reached out to take the simmering cup of tea that Estrella handed her.
"Oh, this is lovely," she commented. The maid smiled.
"I can imagine you've had a hard day, miss." Estrella tucked a quilt around her mistress with almost motherly care.
"Yes, I suppose," Elizabeth sighed, "But it is rather odd that both times I've been accosted by rogue Pirate Captains, Commodore Norrington had contrived to make suit to me in some way immediately before or after the incident."
Estrella gave an interested gasp.
"The Commodore made suit to you, ma'am?"
"I'm quite sure he did just now, yes; but we mustn't speak of this to anyone but each other," said Elizabeth warningly. "It was just an incident between old friends anyway...I'm just dreadfully suspicious of the Commodore as a result."
She reached over to stir her tea lazily. Estrella was lighting a fire in the grate and laughing a little at the poor Commodore a she did so. Outside, the clear blue sky of that day had slowly melted into a resplendent combination of purples and moody grays as the world sank into night.
Elizabeth leaned forward onto the windowsill and propped her chin on her hands.
"I wish something exciting would happen," she said softly to herself. Estrella, much too busy with the grate, did not hear her. The maid finished soon thereafter with the fire and approached Elizabeth with a sympathetic smile.
"I'll leave you now, ma'am," she said. "If you need anything at all, I shall be in the kitchen."
Elizabeth thanked her warmly. "I'll ring for you," she answered. Estrella situated the tea tray closer to Elizabeth's chair before leaving, quietly shutting the door behind her.
The fire crackled merrily on the hearth and cast wavering beams of orange light around the room. Elizabeth turned back to the window. A dull ache had started in her chest as the pounding of her heart had subsided and instinctively she pressed her quilt closer in a nervous effort to stop the pain. It wasn't a hurt in the external sense, but a sort of agonizing pang that depressed her as it seemed to remind her of her adventure-less life.
She was sick of worrying about it. She was tired of going over her predicaments every morning, noon and evening, and lingering in self-pity, as she did nothing to alleviate it.
In a way, she was tired of being herself.
Elizabeth flopped her head back against the chair back and closed her eyes. She felt so ungrateful, always complaining about everything. Will worked hard to make her life comfortable and the only thing she did was gripe. Of course, she never complained to his face - she had more pride than that. She refused to let him know just how unhappy she was, in words at least, and had resigned herself to living in perfect boredom and poverty.
Will must have noticed something, by this time however. He was much quieter nowadays and he stayed at the blacksmith shop for far longer than he used to. Elizabeth did know that he was busy with that important project - something about a sword for the Governor's presentment in England - and had generally assumed that as the reason for his long working hours. It struck her suddenly that she was not even conscious of what her husband was doing every day. Was she that removed from his life?
Elizabeth got up agitatedly from her chair and began milling around the room. If she didn't know simple things such as what her husband was doing with his time, then she must have just stopped asking him about it. Clearly he had stopped telling her, so she must have been unresponsive enough for him to do so.
Suddenly she realized what a horrible wife she must be.
Oh dear, she thought, sinking to the floor with a sudden insight and the return of the pain in her chest. What is happening to me?
Of course her marriage wasn't falling apart. Of course it wasn't. It couldn't be. She'd change: she'd do anything. But, what could she do? Elizabeth's mind was a whirl of concentrated activity as she tried to focus. She could start repairing her broken relationship, she decided, by becoming more friendly, and perhaps talking with her faithful, uncomplaining spouse.
"What will we talk about?" Elizabeth asked the fire miserably. She watched the crackling blaze for a moment, but it gave no answer. A little tear came to her eye and she wiped it away in shame. How terrible was it that she could not even think of something to talk to her husband about.
She supposed she could tell him about her day because it was, after all, the most exciting thing to happen to her in three years. Naturally she would leave out the part about Norrington: Will might be upset about it. Elizabeth decided that she had better leave out the part about her kidnap as well...Will would probably rush out and strangle the errant Captain, and then where would they be? She could tell him the rest though.
Brushing her hand through her hair in exasperation, Elizabeth realized that there was no 'rest' left to tell. She couldn't tell Will anything.
Elizabeth wanted to cry but resisted the temptation. It was no use to shed tears over the matter, she determined.
Somehow, her marriage had to be mended, and since it was her fault that it was broken in the first place, Elizabeth resolved that the emending was up to her alone.
With this thought in mind, she stood up resolutely. She was about to open the door when a strange note lying on the desk caught her eye. Wondering, Elizabeth went slowly over to it and picked it up.
It was a banknote.
That's odd, Elizabeth thought. Will isn't normally paid in such.
She looked closer at the paper, squinting to read the spidery handwriting on it in the dim light of the fire.
"-- pounds," she read slowly, "Enough for a sword...let's see: paid to - Miss Estrella Hadgewood..."
So it must be Estrella's wages, though, as far as she knew, Will never paid in banknotes.
"...Care of William Turner..."
Care of William Turner? Why would it be in Will's care if he was supposed to be the purveyor of the bill? Elizabeth's heart skipped a beat as she read the signature at the bottom of the paper.
Weatherby Swann.
Elizabeth's hands began to tremble furiously and she dropped the note back onto the desk as if it were a repulsive rodent. She couldn't believe her eyes. The note was from her father...paying her maid's wages. He as the one person in the world who's help she least wanted and had denied for her entire marriage. Now, she discovered, he was paying her own servant. How long had he been funding her like that?
Elizabeth's head hurt, and her heart hurt as well. She felt betrayed. So many times she had told Will that no matter how bad things got, they would not stoop to accepting the charity of her father. This decision had helped her get through her life, this comfort of being on her own, knowing that she was surviving with her husband's provision and not her father's. She had been so proud in her emancipation and now to know that it had all been a dream, that she really hadn't been doing anything on her own, was like a slap in the face.
The banknote lay on the desk, her father's signature glaring back at her in the light of the fire. Elizabeth backed away.
Downstairs she heard the front door swing open and Estrella's voice greeting Will as he returned from work. Elizabeth collapsed into the armchair and laid a cold hand over her eyes as she heard her husband ascend the stairs and walk the hall to their room. The doorknob twisted open as Will stepped into the bedroom looking grim and exhausted.
He smiled when he saw Elizabeth, but the look quickly faded.
"You're pale, Elizabeth," he said worriedly, running to her side. "Are you ill?" Elizabeth looked into his eyes accusingly, and suddenly began to cry.
"Oh my God," said Will, trying to hug her but she pushed him away.
"How could you!" she cried. "How could you do this?"
Will surveyed her with a look of anxious incognizance. "What did I do?" he asked. Elizabeth flew at him.
"You've been letting my father pay Estrella's wages!" she sobbed in despair. "After I've told you that he must not be allowed to meddle with our affairs!"
It was Will's turn to grow pale. His eyes flickered to the offending note on the desk, then back to the trembling figure of his wife.
"I did it," he explained, "Because we couldn't afford to do it ourselves. You've been so distressed lately that I thought without Estrella you would become too burdened."
"Too burdened!" Elizabeth threw up her hands. "How long has my father been catering to our needs?"
Will looked nervous. "Almost seventeen months," he replied.
"And we couldn't afford to pay it ourselves?!"
"Work wasn't so profitable as it used to be," Will explained, trying to take Elizabeth's hands. "I was at a loss for a while concerning the maid, but you're father stepped in just in time. I thought you wouldn't mind."
"Of course I mind!" Elizabeth wailed. "It was one thing to let him help us like that, but you neglected even to tell me of it!" She turned away. "I had no idea that we had come into such dire straits as that."
Will's arms fell to his sides and he felt his face grow hot.
"Yes," he stated grudgingly. "We have."
Elizabeth said nothing and continued to cry softly to herself. Will felt his pressure rise. It felt shameful for him to tell her that. He felt unworthy, as if he couldn't provide for her. What a fool he had been to accept Weatherby Swann's confounded offer.
Realizing that Elizabeth was not going to talk to him, Will left the room. Downstairs he found Estrella in the kitchen playing with Henry who had just woken up from his nap.
"How is she?" asked the maid with concern. Will looked at her.
"She found out who pays your wages," he said in grim tones.
"Is she very distressed?" asked Estrella bluntly. Will only nodded in reply. He reached over and rubbed his hand over Henry's little head before leaving the kitchen. Estrella picked up the baby and followed Will into the hall.
"Where are you off to?" she inquired.
"To the Smithy," he answered shortly, slinging his coat over his shoulder. "I don't know when I will be back." He turned out onto the street without another word, and Estrella bit her lip nervously. From the bedroom upstairs Elizabeth heard her husband leave. She resisted the urge to go to the window and watch him. Her heart was set against him for the present, and she could not make herself feel any emotion but anger.
The least he could have done was to tell her that they had become too poor to pay. She would not have accepted this news well, but it would have been infinitely better than the pain she felt now in knowing that she had been deceived for one and half years.
Elizabeth threw herself onto her bed and cried as though her heart had broken.