Seven

"Goodness, Miss, I'd have expected a fine young lady such as yourself to be a bit slimmer about the waist. Not that you're, I mean, oh dear." The little seamstress bit her lip and bent to her measurements again, her face flushing with effort and embarrassment alike.

Elizabeth stifled a giggle. "It's quite all right, Mrs. Adams, I don't want the gown to fit too tightly anyway." They'll never crush me in one of those bloody corsets again if I can help it, she added to herself. I only wish I could have forced down a few more eggs at breakfast. She deliberately pooched out her stomach as far as it would go, the huge meal she'd eaten earlier helping considerably.

Mrs. Adams was vastly relieved that Elizabeth had not taken her comment in the wrong way. The good Lord knew, enough of her clients were in an "interesting condition" when they were fitted for their wedding dresses.

"I believe it will be quite stunning nonetheless, Miss. You'll be a beautiful bride." Mrs. Adams beamed at her as she packed up her tapes and notions.

Elizabeth blushed at that. To finally be married to Will! "Are you sure it can be ready for Saturday next? We can omit the lace if it delays–"

"Not to worry, Miss, it's plenty of time. I've had my girls working on it for two weeks now, ever since your aunt came to us with the order. All we needed was actual measurements to put the finishing touches on it. You'll be Mrs. Turner in ten days, and you'll take your vows in the loveliest gown in London."

Mrs. William Turner. It was thrilling; it was terrifying. A governor's daughter and a blacksmith's wife; she would be a social oddity here in London. Would Will feel out of place at the Swann estate in Kent? Not for the first time, Elizabeth wondered what her new husband would do with himself all day. He could hardly work the forge and shoe horses for her father; the estate was fully staffed and very well managed. Will really wasn't used to idleness.

"I won't think about it. Drive myself daft," she murmured, and focused on happy thoughts of her beautiful gown; of finally being able to kiss Will as much and whenever she liked; of seeing his beloved face over breakfast each day. Feeling more cheerful, she allowed her maid to lace her into a loose day-gown, and joined her father in the sitting room.

Weatherby Swann half-reclined in an overstuffed chair, wigless and dressed in a warm robe. Elizabeth smiled as the father she had always loved snored softly. He looked very worn from their journey; more so from the lingering fever that had marred their last week in Port Royal.

Elizabeth knelt and lay her head against his knee; he awoke slowly and gazed down at her. "Good morning, daughter. I fear I have had a bit too much breakfast, it has made me dozy."

"But we need to feed you up, Father; your appetite's been very poor the last few months. It is a very good thing Doctor Gillespie was able to attend you during the crossing." She patted the knee of his dressing-gown. "He believes you will be much better now that you are out of the tropics. I'll send for some tea."

Once the tray arrived, Elizabeth busied herself with pouring and sugaring her father's cup. He wheezed and sat upright. "You look so much like your mother, doing that. You will make Will a fine wife."

"Be sure and tell him that often, Father." Elizabeth gave him a saucy wink, then became thoughtful. "We both owe you a great deal, for protecting us after we helped Captain Sparrow escape. It must have taken a great deal of your influence, even though I am your daughter." Her hand trembled just a little as she handed him his tea; they hadn't been able to have a good talk since his illness.

"Nonsense, any father would have done the same. A great many people owed me favors; I merely called them in." He cleared his throat and sipped his tea. "That hits the spot. I must admit, I don't miss the duties of Governor very much. Someone always wants something from you."

"I think you miss the hat, though," she teased gently. "When you are well again we shall get you fitted up in the latest London style."

His expression grew serious. "Now that you've had time to really think, are you still sure this is what you want? He may have money, but he has no family, no connections – "

"Will has me! And I have enough family for the both of us," she said spiritedly. "But Father, I do wonder what he will occupy himself with. I can't see him being a man of leisure, can you?"

There was a thunderous knocking at the front door. They heard their manservant respond, and the approach of booted feet led by a swifter, lighter step. Browning burst into the room and announced, "Mr. William Turner to see Miss Swann!" barely ahead of the advent of Mr. Turner himself, plumed hat in hand.

"Will!" Elizabeth rose and hurried to him. "We weren't expecting you at all this morning. Is something wrong?"

He glanced to her father, who was studiously adding milk to his tea, then gave her a hearty kiss. "I just couldn't stay away. A good morning to you, Governor."

"To you as well, Mr. Turner. Or perhaps I should begin calling you by your Christian name, since I will soon be your father-in-law?"

"I would be honored, sir." Will bowed, hopeful that this familiarity meant the Governor had given his wholehearted assent to their marriage. "I apologize for the intrusion, but it was either pay a visit or go mad with boredom sitting in my lodgings."

Swann gave a slow smile, watching the young man with his daughter. She was radiant beside him. Yes, this was the right thing. "I hope you will think of me as a second father, Will, if you can tolerate it. I will try not to be too overbearing."

Elizabeth laughed. "Oh my, you are improved – you are becoming positively mischievous."

Swann drew himself upright as far as the chair would allow. "Children, I have something to say to you both." Will glanced to his fiancé, and they both took a place on the settee.

"I have given this a great deal of thought, and I hope you will humor me. I have a great favor to ask of you."

"Anything in my power, sir." "Of course, Father!"

He gazed out at the rain for a long moment before beginning. "After your nuptials, you will of course go to Hastings Hall for your honeymoon. I think you will find Kent much more pleasant than London this time of year." They both nodded, having discussed this previously. "After a couple of very delightful weeks, I expect my new son-in-law to be out of his mind with tedium. Oh, not that it would be your fault, daughter, but he is a man of action. I think it obvious that he needs productive activity to be truly happy, and while producing offspring may take quite a bit of your time–" he broke off as Elizabeth blushed wildly.

Swann drained the last of his tea. "Ahem. Yes. At any rate, I propose that at your own time and convenience, you will return to Jamaica, and look after my landholdings there. Should keep you both quite busy, eh?"

Elizabeth was stunned. "Father, we couldn't; who will take care of you?"

"Your aunt has done very well till now, and she insists that I am very little trouble. Personally I think she is a bit bored herself, and I am a very engrossing project." He grinned briefly. "Do consider my suggestion. You needn't leave immediately of course; but it would ease my mind considerably to know that my future grandchildren's inheritance is well looked after. And now, I think I shall retire for a little nap."

Browning was summoned, and helped the Governor to his room. Elizabeth chewed her lip for a moment, then turned her gaze to her fiancé. "Well, what do you think? I'm willing to return if you are."

In an instant Will's face went from solemn to overjoyed. "It's exactly what I would have chosen! Are you sure?"

She tugged on his shoulders until his face came very close to hers. "Quite sure. After all…" She brushed her lips across his, and he breathed in quickly.

"…We can't have you getting bored, now can we?"

Eight

"Hard to port, Mr. Gibbs. It seems we've found her."

Gibbs grunted, then gave the orders. He'd really hoped that they would fail to intercept this mysterious target of Jack's. He still had no idea why they were hunting the Catalina, nor what they'd find aboard.

She was a sitting duck really, a nearly unarmed mail packet bound for Holland with documents and other items requiring speed, and of little value to anyone but the recipients. He could simply not fathom what his Captain wanted from this adventure.

They were three leagues northeast of Santiago Island as the Pearl maneuvered astern of the Catalina and hoisted the black flag. The crew was alert and ready with boarding axes and pistols primed, when the Catalina struck her colors and raised a white pennant in surrender. Jack smiled grimly. "Have a care in boarding, lads. It seems much too easy."

Gibbs manned the helm as the boarding party crossed, Jack following as usual once a plank had been laid. It was eerily quiet on deck; not a soul to be seen, crew nor passengers. Jack frowned. "Where the devil are they? I can't bloody negotiate with thin air." He ordered a search of the cabins and hold. His crew scattered, pistols at the ready.

Jack himself drew his sword and prowled aft to the captain's cabin. As he reached the door, a shout came from the forecastle. "We found 'em, Captain! Skulking like dogs in their den." Cotton and two others hauled out the master and the first mate, shoving the rest of the cowering crew down into the hold and bolting the hatch.

Hastening to the main deck, Jack stalked to where the trembling men stood, held upright mainly by the strength of his own crew's arms it seemed. He halted before the ship's master, a scrawny man whose feathered hat bobbed as he shook. "Gentlemen, I will not keep you long. You have something I want. Once I get it I will take myself and my crew off. If I might have your name, Captain?"

Cotton's eyes traveled to that of his captain's. This was not the usual affable Jack; his words were polite, but there was some new tone in his voice that sent an unaccustomed shiver down the backs of his crew.

The Catalina's captain sucked in a breath. "Patchell. C-captain Sean Patchell."

Jack's lip positively curled as he lifted his blade to Patchell's jugular for emphasis. "A pleasure. I'm Captain Jack Sparrow. Your lord and master may have mentioned me to you."

Patchell's eyes rolled backwards in fear. "Ah, Mother of God, we're all goin' ta die!" His first mate gave him a terrified glance, clearly uncomprehending.

Jack laughed shortly. "Aye, I see he did indeed mention me. I don't suppose he told you about our mutual history? No, I didn't think so. As I recall, Sir Robert very much values his reputation, eh? Just nod, you poor benighted bugger. I won't harm you or the crew, long as I get what I came for."

Patchell made a massive effort to control himself. "And what might that be, pirate? We've naught of value aboard, save for our provisions. You're welcome to that, and begone to the devil with you."

But Jack had already turned his back, shouting over his shoulder, "To the hold with 'em, I expect I know where to find what I seek."

Alone, he returned to the captain's cabin, while his crew scoured the ship's stores. He stood before the cabin door for a moment, his hand caressing the fine mahogany almost thoughtfully as he listened. Then he reached for the latch and flung the door open. "Come out, come out, wherever you are," he sang softly.

He was met with a furious barrage of bottles and tankards; then a cutlass came at him. If there had been more space it might have been the end of Jack Sparrow, but the close quarters made it simple for him to duck his attacker's awkward slashing and disarm her, for it was indeed a woman. He grinned as he gripped her wrists, and the cutlass fell. "Miss O'Shea, I take it? You've got your brother's charming personality, I see."

Seeing her advantage lost, Caitlyn O'Shea shook back her hair and assumed a composed stance. "You have the advantage of me, pirate. Am I to have the dubious honor of knowing your name?"

Jack grinned at her bravado. "I'm Captain Jack Sparrow, commander of the Black Pearl…" his smile faded. "And your brother's mortal enemy."

Unintimidated, she dared a grin back at him. "Fine words for a man with two buttons missing from his frock-coat. Taking this ship won't hurt my brother much more than stubbing his toe would; he's got dozens more!"

"Twenty-eight to be exact. Eight schooners, five barques, 14 merchantmen, and one snow, currently undergoing repairs in Port Royal. A wealthy man, your brother. Also owns an estimated three thousand slaves on various plantations, and hundreds more in the process of being dragged from their homes and shipped like so much salt beef to our beautiful New World." He released her hands and kicked the cutlass well out of reach. "Did I forget anything?"

Good Lord, the man knew far too many particulars of her brother's assets. Her eyes dropped uncertainly for a moment. She had her brother's red hair, but her eyes were a clear blue rather than Sir Robert's muddy brown. "It is none of my doing, the business interests my brother pursues." She lifted her gaze to his face again, and was chilled by his expression. "Why don't you get on with your plundering and be off? Surely you have more important things to do than robbing us of our pathetic supplies." Her hands nervously smoothed down her hair.

"Ah, but you see, love… everything I need and want is right here in this cabin. I came here for one thing only. And that," he stepped closer to her, his face grim, "Is you, your own self. I want nothing else."

This was very bad. Caitlyn stifled the urge to panic. Now would be a good time for some devastatingly witty, brave remark, but all that came out of her was a choking cough.

"Aye, I see you take my meaning. Your brother took from me something I value very highly. Something I would kill to regain, but I can never get it back. And I vowed that he would pay for it, Miss O'Shea."

"Really, Captain Sparrow, I am not to blame…" I will not squeak, damn it all.

"Quite true, you are not; but you see," Jack spread his hands, palms up, "I just don't care. I've finally got the opportunity to hurt your brother, and I'm taking that opportunity. It's nothing personal."

Dear God, if I survive this I will kill Robert, barehanded if need be, Caitlyn reflected. She began backing up as Jack stepped closer to her, smiling down at her in a most threatening manner.

With a swift movement he stripped off his heavy captain's coat. One strong hand shot out and grasped her by the wrist. He deftly parried her swift attempt to kick him hard. "Ah, ah, none of that. Shortly we will be joining my crew aboard the Pearl, but first, there's something I need you to do for me, Miss O'Shea."

She gulped and kicked out again. He laughed in her face and backed her against a wall. "That's really not a safe thing to do to a pirate, love. You may as well get used to following my commands. And the first one is…" Caitlyn stared at him defiantly.

"Sew the buttons back on me coat."