At half past six, Norrington's carriage rolled punctually up to the gravel walk of Terris Alcote. Inside the marble hallway, Weatherby Swann put the finishing touches to his cravat. His hands were shaking a little, which rattled his composure, or was the other way around? Weatherby's left eye twitched nervously as he turned to the small hanging mirror to admire his reflection. It all seemed so irrelevant to him, all this fuss over a dinner party, and he both looked and felt lachrymose, at best.

A small creaking noise behind him caused him to turn away from the mirror. It was Will; he was standing at the top of the stairs, dressed in a clean waistcoat and cravat, but his face was ashen and damp with a hint of perspiration and Weatherby could not help noticing that he had one arm slung around Estrella's shoulders. She had one hand to his chest to steady him as they took each stair together on at a time, and it was with a twinge of sadness that Weatherby realized that his son-in-law actually could not support himself and would have fallen headlong if the maid hadn't been helping him. A little moisture hazed Weatherby's eyes as he remembered a day, not a few years before, when a bright eyed Elizabeth had descended stairs very much like these on her way to Norrington's promotion to Commodore, and Will had been waiting for her, fit and whole, in the rapt attention of his youthful affections. These memories did little to ease the tension of the moment. In an effort to hide his tears, Mr. Swann smiled half-heartedly at his son in law.

"The carriage is waiting," he managed.

Will did not return the smile. "Our time would be much better benefited if we were out looking for Elizabeth, instead of wasting it at a dinner party," he retorted. Not knowing what to say to this, Weatherby simply nodded, and gestured for the footman to open the door.

The night was warm and clear as they exited into it and went down the walk to Norrington's carriage.

"Be careful, Master Will," Estrella warned him quietly as he prepared to enter the carriage. "You're not in good health, and it would be best not to excite yourself too much just yet."

Will nodded mutely and removed his arm from around the maid's shoulders. Weatherby watched him get in before following his lead. Estrella stepped back apace as the footman shut the carriage door. Will glanced at her through the window and she could see that his face was drawn in pain. She felt an arrow of concern pierce through her.

The carriage began to move away from her. She could not wave, for she was only a servant, but she felt her heart go out to her master as he sped off towards the Governor's mansion where, hopefully, he would see some decision meted out on Elizabeth's behalf.

Inside the carriage, Norrington nodded a solemn greeting to Will and the former governor, and the latter returned the salutation, more out of politeness than an actual desire to see him. Will said nothing, nor did he show any visible sign of having noticed Norrington at all.

It would have been a silent trip had not Emma Norrington leaned into the light from out of her shadowy corner and boisterously offered her greetings to her father's predecessor.

"Mr. Swann!" she crowed. "How lovely to see you!" Weatherby flinched at his name where Emma had forgotten to include his title. It was always appropriate to call a retired governor by his relinquished gubernatorial facet, but Emma had always been stubbornly lacking in that formality.

"Mrs. Norrington," he responded politely. "I would extend my thanks to you for your father's kindness in his invita-"

"And Mr. Turner!" Emma cut in rudely. "I had not expected to see you, but of course it was your wife after all that – oh, but it is pleasant to see you. Dear me; you look quite ill! Does your arm plague you so?"

Will looked up, startled that Norrington's wife should direct a comment to him.

"I – well," he began, but Emma was not finished.

"Oh! You poor thing! You shouldn'tve come, in such a state!" She put out her lower lip, and Will cast his eyes downward in order to conceal his disgust.

"The party will be grand indeed," Emma continued, taking no notice of him. "Of course, my father's dinners are always commendable. In England, articles detailing our parties were always sure to make the Society Page! Our cooks have always been some of the finest in England! When we came here, we had our chef conscripted as well for we would not do without him. He came by separate ship, of course; I cannot abide to travel with any person in less station than I myself have been accustomed. It is this very same cook who has prepared our meal tonight! Is this not grand?" Emma smiled at everyone expectantly. Will wondered how such an entitled person managed to ride in the same carriage as himself, much less live in the same town. Weatherby awoke with a start from a daze that he had fallen inadvertently into, managing just in time to comment, "Yes; quite grand, quite grand."

Will could not believe his ears. The woman was actually going on about their dinner as if they were all socialites and the party had been eagerly waited upon for a year. Despite his disgust, Will remained silent. His head was beginning to ache with Emma's chatter, and he could think of nothing but Elizabeth.

Norrington noticed his silence and felt a little ashamed. His wife was behaving very rashly, and he personally felt that she could have had more tact, especially considering the situation. He remembered how silent she had been on the subject of Elizabeth's kidnapping, sitting rigidly on the settee with her lips tightly pursed as he told her what had happened. The only time she appeared to have heard him at all was when he mentioned her father having organized a meeting, over dinner, where the plans of rescue would be discussed. He wondered if the gravity of the situation had reached her at all.

Now, she was patting his knee with practiced affection as she purred lovingly, "I can't imagine a more agreeable way to spend an evening than at my father's mansion, can't you dearest?" Norrington stared at her in shocked incomprehension. "My dear," he began, "I think you'll find that we are not going there for a party."

There was a pregnant pause, and Mr. Swann sailed to the rescue.

"I certainly cannot think of a better way to spend an evening," he noted complementarily, and Emma was all smiles once again. Both Will and Norrington detected a hint of sharp sarcasm in the former governor's tones, but were much too polite to say anything.

After what seemed like hours, with Emma talking incessantly throughout the entire jaunt, the carriage pulled to a halt at the gates of the Governor's mansion.

"Well, here we are," Mr. Swann noted brightly. Norrington started, and looked out of the window as if to see that it was true, and Will continued to stare moodily in front of him.

A footman in fancy livery opened the carriage door, and Will leapt immediately onto the gravel walk before the steps could be pulled down. His arm twinged with his sudden movements, but he was so desperate to be out of Emma's company that he would have suffered even more pain to do so.

Mr. Swann descended after him

"Are you quite alright, Mr. Turner?" he asked in concern, but at the same time keeping his voice low. Will grimaced. "Quite," he muttered through clenched teeth. "Much better now that that woman has left off her damned conversation."

Mr. Swann patted him comfortingly on the back, being either too polite to say anything, or too understanding. Norrington bounded out of the carriage and exhaled into the air. He caught Weatherby's twinkling eye and looked busily away to extend his arm to his wife, who ignored it as she bustled importantly off up the walk.

The doors of the mansion were opened as the Governor stepped out. All of the men inclined their heads respectfully in his direction, and Emma flounced to his side. "Father!" she cried happily.

The governor was grim.

"Greetings to you all," he said gravely. "Do, come inside."

True to Emma's claims, dinner was indeed a lavish affair, though; unfortunately for the poor cook, no one felt inclined to eat it. Will sat in stony silence in front of a lone, small helping of steamed fruit which Emma had compelled him to take. Norrington, too, lost in thought, stared moodily at the enormous pigeon that lay stuffed and roasted on the table in front of him. Only Weatherby Swann, due to years of socials, banquets, and other undesirable meetings of the kind, had remained calm enough to reserve his manners. He had served himself a moderate serving of oyster dressing and Terrine de Saumon aux Epinards, and sat manfully eating it. Even the governor seemed removed in mind as he sat absentmindedly chewing on a mouthful of salmon fillet.

Emma Norrington was the only one present who was either incapable of recognizing the gravity of the atmosphere, or deliberately refused to, and Will was almost certain it was the latter. The lady Norrington had heaped her plate with a little of everything, and commented delightedly on it with every bite, never once ceasing to talk although hers was the only voice at the table.

Will's shoulder had begun to ache furiously, and he had begun to sweat. The tension around him clouded his brain and made his head hurt, and he cast a desperate look at Weatherby, who passed it on to Norrington.

Norrington himself had had enough.

"Governor, if we could return to the grave matter that has brought us to your table?" he began finally. "What can be done about Mrs. Turner?"

Emma's silverware hit her plate with a clank. The governor looked up. "Mrs. Tur-? Ah, yes; well, her situation is a tricky one…"

"We will send ships, of course," Norrington decided.

"Ships?" asked the governor. "Oh, no; no. The threat of the French hangs too perilously over the British Caribbean Colonies. A small squadron of ships in the size of that which would be sent, if taken by the enemy, would hardly be expected to survive, and we could not risk impairing our fleet in such a manner."

Norrington was turning red. "We can at least send the message throughout the fleet to be on the lookout for Mrs. Turner, and the ship of the pirates that have taken her. Indeed, I know for a fact that at least one of our clippers can be sent out of its way. We have a very large Navy, sir, and the threat of the French, as it were, is not so imminent in many remote areas of the Caribbean."

The governor blinked and stabbed his fork into a kipper to relieve his emotions.

"I will send orders," Norrington continued, "To those on the patrol line to extend their routes to include the borderlines and the coves. As it is, my personal fleet devoted to the capturing of the pirates will also be put solely after the cause."

"Commander, I really must protest!" the governor growled. "To many ships to be put off of their normal rounds, all for the sake of one missing person!"

"I quite agree!" put in Emma. "If Mrs. Turner was so heedless as to get herself captured, she can hardly be expected to have half the Royal English Navy out looking for her!"

A deadly silence fell around the table. Will felt his temperature rise in anger. Norrington sat, stunned and ashamed, beside his wife. Even Weatherby was speechless.

Will threw his napkin down onto his plate.

"Madame," said Mr. Swann breathlessly, "This is my daughter we speak of." Will glared at Emma with unfathomable hatred. "Excuse me," he spat out the words as he left the table bitterly. Everyone avoided his gaze, but none among them could blame him for his irritation.

After Will had gone, Norrington looked up.

"Mr. Swann," he said quietly, "Please excuse my wife. Her comments were entirely unpardonable." Slowly he got to his feet.

"John!" Emma cried, her cheeks burning scarlet. Her husband looked at her with hurt and disgust in his eyes, but said no more as he went to join Will on the portico immediately outside the dining room.

Will stood with his back to the other guests, staring out at the harbor. It was quiet, steeped in the lulling velvet of night, with the soft glow of the full moon above tinting the rooftops. The sound of raucous laughter floated in from the bar across the town. Will heard the door swing open behind him, and watched awkwardly as Norrington came to a stand beside him.

"I want you to know," the latter began slowly, "That I am not ignoring your case." There was a slight pause and Norrington surveyed Will out of the corner of his eye. "In fact, I intend to go personally in search of Mrs. Turner."

Before Will could recover from his shock enough to answer, much less thank him, Norrington had gone. He had returned inside as quickly and subtly as he had come. As the commander walked into the dining room to face his irate wife, the double doors on the far end of the room were opened to admit a finely dressed Captain with a pompous air and a feathered hat under his arm.

"Carlisle!" Norrington greeted him, glad to see someone to prevent him from having what promised to be a rather embarrassing episode with Emma. "How good of you to come by! The last I'd heard of you, you were heading off that rogue Sparrow! Tell me, man; how did that go?"

Carlisle blushed. Everyone was watching him expectantly, waiting to hear the news. Out on the portico, Will's ears pricked up at the sound of the notorious pirate's name.

"Well," said Carlisle; "You see," said Carlisle.

"It's like this," said Carlisle.

"Spit it out, man!" said Norrington.

"We were on his tail, and then; we weren't, any longer…" the captain finished lamely.

"Ah."

"I don't even know how it happened, sir!" Carlisle searched the room for sympathy, or a quick escape.

"Yes, indeed. That's exactly what I wanted to hear." Norrington glared at the captain. "Report to the Fort, if you will. I will be momentarily to reassign you. I had planned for you to be put on another hunt, but since you seem slightly incapable of accomplishing such a thing, I have a nice trade route you can patrol."

"Yes sir," said Carlisle miserably, slinking away. Weatherby cast a knowing glance in Norrington's direction.

Out on the portico Will had just had a revelation. Jack Sparrow. If anyone would be able to help him, it would be Jack. And Will was pretty certain he knew where the pirate was to be found.

The ride home was particularly tense. Emma and Will both sat in stony silence, avoiding each other's gaze, and hating each other every minute. Norrington spent the entire time staring moodily out of the carriage window, and Mr. Swann the entire time looking uneasily around, trying to think of something pleasant to say. It was a relief to all when at last they arrived at the steps of Terris Alcote. Norrington woke up enough to bid them adieu, and Emma was barely civil, only nodding coldly in response to Weatherby's polite farewell.

Norrington waited until the carriage had actually begun to move again before he said his piece.

"Could you have possibly held your tongue until we were away from young Mr. Turner and Mr. Swann? Your comments were positively tactless."

Emma whirled on her husband.

"How can you berate me so?" she cried in fury. "It's you who are to blame: not me! It's that hussy, Elizabeth, who's gone missing, isn't it. She's muddled your thoughts. You're far too attached to her; sending out half the Navy indeed." Emma flounced her head and stared dejectedly out of the window.

Her words stung Norrington, mostly because, as he realized, she was right. He was far too attached to Elizabeth.

As a matter of fact, after four years, he was still desperately in love with her. He looked at his wife now with this conviction now firmly in place. "Mrs. Turner is a very good friend of mine, just as her father is," Norrington felt he had to explain. "It would be entirely unpardonable for me not to help out where I am entirely enabled."

"I do not believe you!" Emma whined petulantly. "I don't see any reason to try and save some tart who's gone sodding off after pirates!"

"Elizabeth's not a tart!" Norrington bellowed irritably, then instantly he realized his mistake. "Mrs. Turner," he tried to recover himself, "I meant to say, Mrs. Turner."

Emma's mouth formed a perfect O.

"I knew it," she grimaced, her bleating voice trembling with rage. "You love her still."

Norrington's eyes flashed. Raising his right arm he rapped his knuckles sharply against the speaking box next to the driver's seat.

"Take me to the Fort!" he roared when the shutter was opened.

Emma burst into tears.

"They've arrived back already?"

Thomas the butler looked up from his pipe.

"Of course. Didn't you know? Master Will went tearing up to his rooms like the Devil was at his heels." The butler whistled solemnly at the remembrance. "He was in a right state."

"He couldn't have been tearing, Thomas. You know, his arm. He must have been quite upse-" Her hand flew to her mouth.

Estrella wondered how it had all slipped past her, right under her nose as it were.

"I must go to him!" she said with passion. Thomas watched her in surprise as she dashed by him out of the kitchen where they had been warming their feet, and up the stairs to the next level on which the family lived.

She found Will in his room, hurriedly stuffing a spare shirt into a small rucksack.

"Why Master Will!" Estrella cried before she could stop herself. "You're not leaving!"

Will turned to her, a little disconcerted at both finding someone behind him unexpectedly, and shock at the maid's uncharacteristic outburst.

"Yes, I'm leaving," he told her. "You mustn't tell anyone, Estrella."

The maid, all reserve abandoned in a flash, flew to his side. "But why, Master Will? Why must you go?"

Will put down the rucksack and faced her slowly.

"It was pirates, Estrella; pirates, that abducted Elizabeth," he said quietly, "And from the look of things, they were really good at what they did. Norrington is going after them – it's been finalized and there's nothing I can do – but I guarantee that he will not be able to find them. The simple reason for this is that he does not know the most elusive pirate haunts." Will searched Estrella's questioning face.

"Only I can find her," he said desperately. "It's all up to me now."

Estrella remained silent until Will had finished packing. She watched him go to the mantelpiece and take down something wrapped in a long linen cloth. "This is for Wilde," he muttered as he unwrapped it for her to see. Slowly he drew a glistening sword from out of the linen. Will looked at it for a moment, watching the firelight flicker off of the blade as he remembered what the sword had done to him. He had not had the strength to finish it himself, but Tom Shilling had been more than happy to do it for him.

"This…" said Will darkly, examining the weapon, "Is Wilde's sword. I do remember that he ordered it."

Estrella's eyes were fearful. "Are you going to-" she began but Will cut her off.

"Yes, I am. Ever since he stuck this blade into my arm he willed it on himself." Will looked up at the trembling maid. "Of course, in order to kill him, I have to find him first."

Estrella nodded. "I do not doubt that you will," she said softly, after a pause. Will watched her as she said it and his hand clenched tighter around the scabbard of the sword. Tears were welling thick and fast in Estrella's eyes as she watched him fasten the weapon to his belt.

"Oh, Master Will!" she cried, and flew into his arms before he could speak. "Estrella?" Hesitantly he put an arm around her.

"There's no need to cry."

The maid sniffed a little, her face buried in his waistcoat. Finally she pulled away.

"I am most apologetic, sir," she said hastily, wiping away her tears. "I-I don't know what came over me."

Will brushed this aside.

"There's no need to feel ashamed. I really don't belong on this pedestal that denotes you as my servant. Really, we're all on the same level together. I don't even pay you, you realize."

Estrella smiled. "Yes," she said. "Thank you, sir."

"It's Will, actually. Just Will."

She nodded solemnly. "Will," the maid repeated slowly.

At the back door of Terris Alcote, Will bade Estrella goodbye and warned her most urgently not to tell anyone of his departure, nor certainly of his intentions to find his wife.

"It's too much of a risk," he explained in a half-whisper lest he wake anyone in the house. "I'll be an outlaw if it's discovered I've gone off to join up with pirates, and it would not help to have Norrington on my tail either."

Estrella agreed solemnly, and swore not to tell a soul.

As Will slung his rucksack over his wounded shoulder, a silent tear slipped down the maid's cheek. Will saw it, and slowly reached up to brush it away.

"Take heart," he told her softly. "I can't have you crying on my behalf."

Estrella clutched his hand to her cheek as if to try and delay his departure for a little longer, and looked into his eyes. Will watched her and wondered how she could take it all with such patience as she did. Her mistress was twice captured, her household changed from a mansion to a ne'er do-well town home in a single marriage, and that marriage suffered of small cracks as well.

"I wonder why it is that you have never married, Estrella," Will asked. The maid gazed at him unabashedly.

"In truth, sir-"

"-Will," he corrected.

"In truth, Will," Estrella repeated with a blush, "I have never found a man that I'd liked very much better than any other."

Will grinned. "I see." She released his hand slowly, never breaking eye contact. He was no stranger to that sort of look, and as a result, recognized it immediately.

Estrella…was in love with HIM.

This new knowledge made him feel even worse, ultimately because he did not and could not, furthermore, return the affection. The best remedy would be for him to leave as soon as he could.

"I…have to go," said Will, voicing his decision almost as if to back it up in his mind. Estrella's lip trembled. Will watched her and felt another pang of guilt. Steadily and hesitantly he bent down and kissed her cheek. Estrella inhaled sharply.

"Take could care of Henry for me," Will told her gravely. "Goodbye, Estrella."

Without further ado, he shifted his pack on his shoulder and set off toward the docks without looking back.