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------------------------------------------------------Chapter Thirteen

Will came to consciousness with the onset of a vicious wave of nausea. His head was swimming and his eyes, sore and prickling, were wet around the lids. The air around him was hot and somewhat sticky, clinging to his equally sweaty body and making him quite uncomfortable. Gingerly he raised his right hand to his face and rubbed his eyes. When his vision had finally cleared, Will was shocked to see not the rough boards of the smithy ceiling, but the ornately gilded plaster work of a fancy English mansion.

In his consternation, he blinked and his eyes began to smart as a result. Quickly he tried to rise but was deterred by the jab of sharp pain that shot through his entire left side. Will fell still on the soft pillows around him and gritted his teeth against the pain. With his right arm he reached across his chest and laid a trembling hand on his wounded left shoulder, shocked to find that it had been bandaged.

The events of the previous night were only a disquieting blur in his mind, but now, waking to find himself in such unusual surroundings, he was not so sure that the interlude with the pirates had taken place only the night before. He could have been asleep for days. The room in which he now found himself was most certainly not a dream for the intense pain he felt was a tribute moreover to a harsher reality.

Will adjusted himself in order to inspect his surroundings. he was lying in a great French poster bed hung with heavy brocaded curtains of a soft pastel green color, and surrounded by folds of clean Irish linen and feather pillows. The floor of the room was in slats of polished rosewood and covered in almost entirety by a thick, lavish Indian carpet also done in light pastel hues and threaded with gold to match the bed hangings. In the great marble fireplace at the foot of the room, a bright fire crackled and sent rosy light dancing all over the walls. It provided the only light in the place, and through its aid Will could make out the presence of two great windows set in the wall to his right, both closely swathed in curtains that matched those of the bedstead.

"Where am I?" Will wondered aloud.

As if in answer to his question, the double French doors at the far end of the room creaked open and Estrella bustled in. She brightened when she saw Will, who in turn was so shocked that he nearly fell off the bed.

"You're awake, Sir!" the maid cried, clearly relieved. She came quickly over to him where he lay in confusion and a tangle of blankets and tenderly propped and fluffed the pillows under his head. Will watched her and felt somehow that something wasn't at all right.

"How are you feeling?" she inquired, laying a cool hand to his heated forehead. Will reacted to her touch, and calmed a little at the atmospheric relief it brought to his mind. He looked up at her.

He wanted to ask her why she was there; he wanted to ask her why he was not still lying, maimed, on the Smithy floor. He wanted to know who had brought him to this unusual place, and more importantly, he wanted to know what this place was. In between all of these mental qualms his mind kept turning to the one question that nagged him above all: where was Elizabeth. Vaguely he remembered Estrella saying something about his wife, but every memory of yesterday's events was hardly solid in Will's brain. Will opened his mouth, but no sound came. He tried once more, but no words made themselves available and he fell silent once more. Finally...

"Estrella," he croaked weakly. The maid bent down to him concernedly.

"Sir?"

Will searched her face, anxiously trying to put his thoughts to words. "Where am I?" He gripped the maids' arm urgently. "Where's Elizabeth?"

To his dismay, Estrella began to cry.

"She's gone!" she whispered. "They took her with them! Don't you remember, I told you about it when I found you..."

Will's pallid face blanched further. "Pirates?"

Estrella nodded and wiped her eyes with her apron. Will felt his heart grow cold, and suddenly he felt very ill. The pirates had taken his Elizabeth - his beautiful Elizabeth. He felt that he could have survived anything, but they had taken his wife and in her the last treasure he had. Somehow they must have figured that a man's family is his greatest possession and had split it down the middle knowing that by attacking it they were destroying his confidence and security. Now alone, and in pain, Will was at such a loss. He would look for Elizabeth, that much was certain, even if he had to go to the ends of the earth to do it. It didn't matter so long as there was some small chance of finding her. If only he could know if she was safe.

Estrella was still crying.

"How did it happen?" asked Will quietly. "The abduction; how did they do it?"

Blubbering blustfully, the maid recounted the tale with chilling words, her voice trembling as she described Elizabeth's struggle, and the cowardice of the pirates in taking an unarmed woman, and a mother at that. By the time Estrella had finished, Will was livid with rage and disgust.

"Cowards," he said through gritted teeth. "Filthy stinking cowards, to abduct and assault a defenseless woman. What was their price, that they would go through so much for one prisoner?" Privately, he wondered why they did not also take Estrella: if they had been slave traders then they would have taken both women in the house, knowing that two was better than one.

Both Will and Estrella knew the answer to the spoken question, and neither felt the confidence to utter it. Will would have gone to hell and back for Elizabeth, not only because he was her husband, and he had told her so many times. He would have died for her. She seemed to have that effect on men.

Now he could only assume that Captain Wilde had fallen under that same spell that had first captured Will all those years ago when he had first seen her, waking up after floating forever on a plank of wood in the sea and seeing her looking down at him like an angel.

"I must get up," Will decided in a low voice. He raised himself onto his right arm through a series of short, staccatic attempts, all of it only with tremendous effort. Estrella watched him fearfully, but did not dissuade him.

Finally, the pain in his body too much to bear, he fell back against the pillows with a cry, utterly exhausted.

"Curse my shoulder, the wound hurts me terribly," Will grimaced, gingerly massaging his left arm. The maid did not hesitate. Gently she bent forward and put Will's good arm around her neck to assist him as he struggled to sit up. He was breathing hard for the pain and his jaw was clenched tight, but he did not complain. Estrella put her arm around his back as he rose from the bed and into an upright position. Will stopped to rest a little, letting his feet touch the carpet and waiting for his head to clear and the pain in his upper body to subside.

Suddenly Will tightened his grip on Estrella's shoulder.

"Where's Henry?" he demanded to know, his voice creased with fear and fatherly concern. He stared wildly into Estrella's eyes, but she shushed him gently.

"The baby is safe," she told him, "He is here, not five rooms down he hall."

Will nodded, then inhaled sharply as another flame shot through his shoulder.

"And where - " he gasped through gritted teeth, " - is here?"

Estrella bit her lip but was saved from answering as one of the bedroom doors was canted and Weatherby Swann stepped in. The former Governor seemed older and more tired than Will remembered him having ever been. He still wore his gray wig, but it sat less proudly on his aging frame and his body seemed to bend under the weight of it. His eyes were drooping at the corner now more than ever, giving him the look of someone who was distinctly unhappy. Will would have felt sorry for the man if he did not harbor such an ardent dislike of him already through years of Elizabeth's suffering at his seemingly condescending treatment of her.

Now he seemed to notice that Will had woken for he paused in his approach.

There was a very pregnant pause.

"You brought me to his house?" Will demanded furiously, turning to Estrella, who quivered.

"Don't be angry Sir," she hastened to say. "It was the best place I could think of. I didn't do it alone, sir. He helped me." Estrella glanced approvingly at Will's father-in-law who was shifting uncomfortably on spot. Weatherby Swann turned a brilliant crimson and received a bewildered look from his daughter's errant husband.

"You?" asked Will in shock.

Weatherby Swann pulled dangerously at the lace in the mouth of his sleeve, a habit he had when he was nervous.

"Ah - perhaps we had better overcome - ah - discuss this in the parlor," he angled wisely. "Estrella, help my son-in-law: I trust he is capable of moving there with your he - "

"I'm quite capable, thank you," Will hissed at him.

"Of course you are," Weatherby interposed hurriedly. "I'll call for a bit of tea." He turned and fled without further ado.

Estrella glanced down at Will who's arm had slipped from around her neck.

"Shall I help you sir?" she inquired. Will was looking into the fire. His hand moved to his useless left shoulder as if he was thinking about it. Estrella watched him as he sat there, his handsome, boyish features flecked with the golden firelight and his eyes reflecting liquid flames, and had a thought of her own. Will looked so very attractive, and sad. She wasn't quite sure but that Elizabeth had not treated him at his full worth. As a servant, this was none of her business, but still she worried. Estrella cared more than ever about this small, three-person family whom she had been hired to serve, and it rent her heart knowing that even with Elizabeth safe at home the strain between all three was being pulled at the seams. Silently she prayed that for all the heartbreak her mistress's abduction had caused, perhaps it would serve to bring everyone that much closer to each other in the end.

Finally Will sighed and glanced up at her.

"You can help me," he said, with an air of defeat. Estrella smiled and helped him to put his arm about her neck once more.

Slowly Will pressed his feet against the ground as he shifted his weight onto them from the bed. His breathing came harsher as he rose, laboriously, clenching Estrella's shoulder in a grip of death. The blood flow from his head into his shoulder was painful and sent him reeling, causing the maid to use every bit of strength in her in order to steady him. In the struggle to stand, Will had broken out in a slight sweat that left little beads clinging to his forehead. Estrella wiped them away with the corner of her apron.

"There you are sir," she said soothingly. "Are you feeling all right?"

Will grimaced.

"Yes," he managed, but Estrella noticed in alarm that his face was much paler than it had been moments before. His features were drawn up as he struggled against the pain.

"Are you sure?" she asked, but Will nodded briskly.

"Yes, yes, dammit; I'm quite all right."

Estrella bit her tongue guardingly, but continued to support her master as he endeavored to walk over to the bedroom door. It was an intense few minutes that followed, with the silence broken only by the crackling of the fire, and by Will's sharp breaths as he maintained his movement. Estrella wrapped a firm hand around Will's back to guide him as she waited patiently for him to take each step.

Will had only one objective, and that was to find his father-in-law. He was determined to throw himself into the fray and recover what had been stolen from him. He felt that he had been ill too long, whether he had been lying there in that bed for a night or for seven nights, and now he knew that it was time for him to rise and be well. To be incapacitated because of a sword wound was ridiculous; he was a man and should be able to take such things. One fact did remain, and it was that no sword wound he had ever had had been quite this terrible. Any clean cut to the shoulder should have healed right up and pained him no more; this one had not only failed to begin the healing process, but had worsened and become a thousand times more painful.

"Estrella," Will panted as he collapsed against the cool papered wall outside of the bedroom. "Why isn't my shoulder any better? By all accounts, it should have closed."

The maid shook her head. "I don't know, sir. I wasn't present when the doctor visited you."

"There was a doctor?" asked Will incredulously. "Who paid for that I wonder?"

Estrella looked at him out of the corner of her eye before looking guiltily down at her hands. "Mr. Swann paid, sir."

Will didn't even argue. Weatherby Swann could pay for anything he liked. . . Elizabeth wasn't here to object; but Will would make sure that his father-in-law didn't once more worm his way into their lives through his generous donations.

"How long have I been here?" he wanted to know.

"Since last night, sir."

Last night. So at least he had not been lying around on Mr. Swann's time and under his keeping for very long.

Estrella was standing calmly beside him. She said nothing else and seemed to be letting him know that he could take as much time as he needed in order to regain his strength, and that she wouldn't rush him.

Will looked up at her.

"You don't really have to help me; not if you don't want to," he reminded her. She glared back at him.

"Yes I must," Estrella replied in a slightly miffed voice. "It is my bounden duty."

There was a pause.

"Thank you," said Will, rather lamely.

The maid blinked slowly. "Why - you're welcome, sir," she said. "Now, let me help you to the parlor. It is a bit of a walk from here, and you'll never find it on your own I warrant. Besides, the tea should be ready just about now."

She helped Will to his feet and assisted him along down the hall, routinely stumbling and falling into the walls or the furniture. Nearly five halls and a score of rooms down, they came to a set of doors and stopped. There was a dignified servant posted in front of it and he gave Will a quick look over before Estrella confronted him.

"It's Master Turner you great lump," she scolded. "Now open the door this instant before the man collapses."

Immediately the servant leapt to attention. He flew into the parlor to announce them with a flurry of his brocaded coat tails.

"I will not collapse," Will hissed indignantly into Estrella's ear. She met his gaze with a small grin.

"Of course not, but Pidgeon's always been rather slow about his business, and I only thought it fit to liven him up a bit," the maid answered back. "Only, of course, if it is all right with you, sir."

Will shrugged with his good shoulder.

Pidgeon reappeared just then to inform them that Weatherby Swann awaited their presence.

"Yes, yes," Estrella said busily. "Now shoo, and let us pass." She prodded the servant with her elbow causing him to go rather pink, and motioned for him to help Will into the parlor.

Weatherby Swann was seated at the far end of the room on a small, dainty Queen Anne chair, to the slight right of an equally small table. He had been crossing his legs, but this ceased as he rose to greet his son-in-law.

"Mr. Turner," he said pleasantly as Will entered the room. "How are you?"

Will glowered. "Aside from this blasted wound," he muttered, "I'm feeling quite fine. Thank you for asking."

The sarcasm seemed to offset Weatherby's train of thought for he paused at the start of a new sentence with his mouth slightly open. Then, as if rethinking his words, he decided against it and motioned to a nearby settee.

"Estrella, you can put Mr. Turner there," he commanded.

"I would like to have a chair, if you don't mind," Will corrected him, but Mr. Swann shook his head.

"I advise against it. Your arm will not heal if you are not careful with yourself, Mr. Turner. I do recommend that you take the couch." He said it with an air of finality, and Will's arm hurt so badly that he had not the spirit to object. With one last look of defiance he removed his arm from around Estrella's neck and proudly took the settee by himself. The maid smiled to herself and quietly retired to a corner where she would wait silently until called.

Mr. Swann eyed Will who returned the look with all of the bitterness he could muster.

"Tea?" Weatherby offered humbly. Will shook his head.

There was a long silence.

"I realize that it has been some time since we last talked but - " the former governor began at last but Will cut him off.

"This is no time for pleasantries Mr. Swann. I want to set things straight immediately. My wife has been kidnapped, and enough time has been wasted on my account already."

"Ah," Mr. Swann said, and his hands shook a little at the mention of his daughter.

"Someone will need to go after her," continued Will. "I will need a ship if I am to set out."

"You are going to search for her?"

Will was taken aback. "Of course," he said. "I am after all her husband."

"I really must protest!" Mr. Swann interrupted. "You are hardly in the physical condition required for such a task. I do hope you don't mind, but I have already taken the liberty of calling upon someone who might be able to help us."

The door of the parlor swung open and Pidgeon stepped in.

"May I present, Commodore Norrington," he warbled, and Will watched in horror as the most loathsome man in his living memory walked into the room.

The Commodore bowed.

"I do hope that I am not to late," he said evenly. "Ah," spotting Will, "Mr. Turner, how do you do?"

John Norrington, Will was disgusted to find, had not lost any of his suavity. He was just as smug as ever, and just as impeccably dressed. Will did notice just a few more graying hairs underneath the glossy combed wig, and there were strange crows' feet around the corners of the Commodore's eyes, but Will dismissed this as usual signs of age. That and perhaps the marriage that had supposedly been so successful. Will could admire anyone who managed to cohabit any single home with Emma Forinney, renown the continent over for her incessant chatter and annoying gossipy behavior, and believed that any woman such as her could put gray in your hair well before your time.

"Commodore," he acknowledged.

Mr. Swann seemed to find that it was time to switch the subject.

"Ah, John; there you are," he said briskly. "Do have a seat. Mr. Turner and I were just discussing the matter of a search. He has suggested that he be the one to go."

Norrington took the chair offerred him, and thoughtfully tapped one side of his nose.

"I don't believe that that is wise, Mr. Turner," he drawled assertively. "The search could take more than a few days and you do not look quite well enough to last aboard a ship for very much longer than a couple of hours." He eyed the bandage on Will's shoulder as if silently pronouncing him unfit to be out of bed. Will's pride bristled immediately.

"Despite what you may think, Commodore," he spat out, "I find myself perfectly well. My health is not an issue, you realize, in the face of my wife's abduction."

Mr. Swann smiled bewilderedly and tried to look polite. John Norrington was flaring at the nostrils, but remained expertly silent, pretending to busy himself with a cup of tea that had been handed to him. An awkward silence descended upon the room as all three men tried not to look each other in the eye. In the corner Estrella stood with her head bowed meekly, but this did not stop her gaze from flitting expectantly around at the scene before her. When at last the silence became almost resonant, Norrington raised his voice.

"I have talked with the governor about it," he mentioned. "He asked me to extend the invitation of an informal dinner at his house tonight to discuss the matter further. You could...inquire about the loan of a ship then, if you wish."

"Good!" Mr. Swann exclaimed. "It's settled then." He and Norrington both rose from their seats.

"But, hold on," Will spluttered in amazement. "An informal dinner? We cannot tarry that long; Elizabeth may have reached the Indies by that time!"

Norrington smiled politely.

"My dear Mr. Turner," he said. "We cannot simply go bounding after a Pirate ship without taking great measures in planning. It's a bit like leaping in battle without a weapon." He and Mr. Swann exchanged knowing looks.

Will wasn't satisfied.

"I will not wait!" he exclaimed, and to everyone's amazement, he got slowly up from the settee to stand before them in determination.

"Elizabeth is out there, all alone, surrounded by a great band of pirates. If that does not strike terror in your heart, for her sake if anything else, then you are quite senseless and it would do me great ill to serve with you on any mission," he told them fiercely. Estrella bit back a proud smile. "That's it," she thought. Will took a fumbled step back and would have fallen, but he caught himself just in time. Mr. Swann's eyes were screwed up in worry, and Norrington himself looked a little shamed at Will's words.

"You're quite right," the Commodore said at last. "We are being too slow. I will visit the Governor, and perhaps you may talk with him sooner. I will try everything in my power." He nodded staunchly, and shook Will's hand.

"Goodbye, Mr. Turner; Mr. Swann," the Commodore acknowleged. He put on his hat and left the room. As the door shut behind him, Will fell back onto the settee in an exhausted heap. Estrella ran to his side with a cry.

"All of this talk has worn him out completely!" she moaned. "He is not well enough to stand such pressures as these."

Weatherby Swann blinked. "But he said he was quite fit?" he wondered. Estrella shot a repressing look at him.

"He was lying of course," she scoffed. "Wouldn't you, if your wife had been kidnapped and you were incapable of looking for her?"

The moment the words were out, she regretted them. Mr. Swann kept his eyes on the ground. Estrella had forgotten; Elizabeth's mother had died of tuberculosis. She had been ill for a long time, wavering in between life and death, and through out the entire period of her illness there had been nothing Mr. Swann could have done. He could only sit back and watch as she died.

"I - I'm sorry, Sir," Estrella muttered, but Weatherby met her gaze with glistening eyes.

"No, no; its perfectly alright," he said. "I have been a fool. Of course he should go and look for Elizabeth. If there had been anything I could have done...during Margaret's illness...I would have done it."

Mr. Swann helped her to lift Will up, carefully, and bear him back down the hall to the bedroom. Will remained unconscious even when they laid him on the bed. Estrella found a bowl of cool water and dutifully dabbed it onto his forehead with a soft cloth.

Mr. Swann watched them both, silently.

"He's a good man," he said suddenly.

Estrella nodded, but did not look up.

"Yes," she whispered. "He is."

They both watched the sleeping man on the bed for a while until finally Mr. Swann turned, noiselessly, and left the room, leaving Estrella alone. The fire in the room was dying now, and with it the light. The bedroom grew darker and darker as the flames in the grate grew smaller, until at last in the silence they dwindled away to nothing.

Estrella still remained.

No one saw the tear that trickled down the maid's cheek as she stroked her master's hot face. No one saw her lovingly press his hand with hers or heard her whisper to him in the darkness.

No one saw her bend slowly over him as she pressed a small, tender kiss to his forehead.

A-N: Thus the plot thickens. Hope you like it. R&R: would be appreciated.

Also, do read my newly posted 'Requiem for Blood' (if you like vampires)