After breakfast Amelia took Jack for a turn in the garden and then returned to her bedroom. She was sitting in a red velvet armchair looking out the window. Her room looked over the spacious land surrounding the mansion, with a view of the ocean in the distance. The sky was clear except for the birds, and the sun shined brilliantly on the sea green water. With one dainty hand Amelia was fanning herself, the window was open and allowing the heat in. Nevado was on the floor by her feet, laying on his white furry back and revealing his pink stomach.
Although Amelia's eyes were on the horizon, her mind was somewhere else. She was thinking about her uncle's consent and the entire visit so far. No doubt she was excited, but at the same time she was a bit worried. Things were going great so far, which made her feel like it was almost too great. There was a feeling in her gut that something was going to ruin it all.
These were her reflections when she was startled by a noise at her door. She immediately turned to see what it was; the doorknob slowly turned. The door opened inward, and following it was a young woman. Her blonde hair was pulled back with a ribbon, revealing her youthful complexion, and she held in her arms a bundle of cloth. When she looked up and saw that Amelia was there her cheeks suddenly filled with a shade of pink, and she began to retreat.
"I'm sorry," she said in a low whisper. "I was not aware that someone was in here. I'll come back later."
"No, no, come in," Amelia urged with a smile. She left her chair, stood up, and invited the girl to enter. The woman was obviously a maid there, and since Amelia did not recognize her she realized that it must be the new one. "You must be Clara Thompson, I heard about you. My name is Amelia. It is a pleasure to meet you."
The girl curtsied, still holding the bundle, and smiled. "I just came to bring your laundry and clean sheets. I am sorry to disrupt."
"Not at all," she replied, closing the door that was left neglected half-way open. Then she turned around again and offered to help the girl that was standing in front of her. "I was not doing anything important. Here, I will take those from you."
Clara reluctantly handed over the pile to Amelia and stood there, awaiting instruction. She was an attractive girl, not much younger than Amelia, and very soft spoken. It was apparent that she knew her place as a maid, and did not want to do anything that would warrant her getting fired. Amelia immediately found a soft spot in her heart for this girl that she hardly knew just by looking at her. She remembered what Maria had told her, that the girl had lost her father recently. This made her feel even worse for the poor girl, and she wanted to help.
Amelia set the load of laundry down on her bed and then gestured for Clara to sit down. "Have a seat, you must have been working all morning."
The girl hesitated, but eventually took a seat on one of the chairs. She sat on the edge, ready to get up at any time, and seemed a bit anxious. That was understandable, for she probably was not used to having her employers talk to her. After a bit of silence she spoke again, this time a little louder. "I shouldn't stay long, I have things to do and the others will wonder where I have gone."
"I understand," Amelia answered. "But I promise that you will not get in trouble for talking to me. I just wanted to meet you and say hello. If you ever need anything than do not hesitate coming to me or my aunt Mary. I will be leaving soon, but in my absence I am sure that my aunt will take good care of you. How has your stay been so far?"
"Oh, very well," the girl answered. "They treat me very well."
"That is good. Well, it was nice talking with you. Don't forget what I said."
"I will not," she replied, rising from the seat and moving towards the door. When she reached it and placed her hand on the doorknob she stopped for a second and turned around for one last look. "Thank you."
"And thank you," Amelia responded, taking back the velvet seat by the window. "For bringing me my laundry."
Clara nodded and then continued out the door. Outside of the room sat a basket halfway full of sheets. She picked it up with her thin arms and held it upon her right hip, moving further down the hallway. She stopped outside of another room and set the basket down again. Bending over, she grabbed a pile of folded sheets and blankets and reached to open the door.
She entered quietly, heading straight for the bed. Setting the bundle down, she began to take off the sheets that were already on it. The sheets were tossed about, whoever had slept there the night before did not make the bed. That was what Clara was there for anyway, so she did not think anything of it. She pulled off the first sheet and tossed it on the floor, starting a pile of dirty laundry, when she heard a sound coming from further in the room.
Her head shot up and she looked around. She had not noticed before, but there was a man in the room. This man did not look like any she had seen before; there was something unclean about him. He sat in the far corner of the room, holding a bottle in his right hand, with his feet resting upon a small table. His hair was down; it was long and dark brown. A red bandana wrapped around his head was the only thing keeping the hair out of his face.
His head was tilted and he took another sip from his bottle without addressing the young woman. Then he slammed the bottle down on the table beside him and sat up, taking his boots from off of the furniture. He looked over at her, the room was full of light from the two windows, and did not say a word. His hand moved up and touched his chin.
"You startled me, sir," Clara stated, momentarily taking a break from her work. Her blue eyes looked over him, not sure what to do. "I did not see you in here. If you want then I could leave and come back later to change the sheets."
"There is no need for that, little missy," his deep voice replied. His brown eyes returned to his bottle and he picked it up again. "Want a drink?"
"Oh, no, but thank you," she answered politely, returning to her work. She leaned over the bed, struggling with the second layer of sheets. The man got up from his seat, seeing that she needed help, and staggered over. With one movement he tore the sheet from the bed and threw it to her. She caught it with her arms and placed it on the pile on the floor before looking back at him.
Clara noticed that his eyes were fixated on something. She looked down at herself, trying to figure out what it was, and saw it herself. With the movement a necklace that she had been wearing came out of the top of her dress. It dangled on her bosom, and without thinking her hand came up and touched it. On the chain was half of a coin that was found on her father after he died. She had worn it ever since in memory of him, without knowing exactly what it was.
Her eyes moved from the coin to the man. He was still staring at it, like he was thinking about something. Slowly his eyes moved up to hers and he snapped himself out of his reverie. "What is yer name lass?"
"Clara, Clara Thompson," she answered, still holding onto her necklace.
"Where did ye get that, Miss Thompson?" he asked curiously, pointing to what she was clenching in her fist.
"My father," she said before letting go of the artifact and grabbing a clean sheet from the bundle. Although she was wondering why he was so curious about her necklace, she knew that she had to get her job done. She was there to change the sheets, not to answer questions.
This did not seem to bother the man, for he went back to his seat in the corner. She heard him mutter "interesting" before continuing with drinking whatever it was in the bottle. From then on he stayed quiet and left her alone, which she was glad about.
When she was finished making the bed, she grabbed the dirty laundry and left the room without saying one word. She threw the sheets into the previously empty basket, and went on her way. Her day had been a bit odd so far, but she still had many things left to do. It was not long before she forgot about both of her morning encounters.
The man who had been left alone was indeed Jack Sparrow. He had retired to the seclusion of the guest room in order to drink a bottle of rum that he had stashed away in his suitcase for the occasion. There were things that he was willing to give up for Amelia, but alcohol was definitely not one of them. He could not last one day without his precious rum.
So that was what he was doing when his door unexpectedly opened. In came a small woman, young and pretty, wearing a maid's outfit. She had a pile of bedding in her arms, and went straight to work without even noticing him there. At first he just watched her, finding no reason to interrupt her work or to let himself be known.
That was until his body betrayed him and let out a cough. He took a drink of the rum to help his throat, and then placed it on the table. Changing his position and straightening himself out, he got a better look of the maid. She spoke to him, startled that she was not alone. Jack did not see why she should leave and come back later, it did not bother him one bit for her to be there, and so he told her to stay and continue.
She refused his polite offer of a drink, it did not occur to him that not everyone drinks, and began pulling at a sheet on the bed. It seemed like she was having a hard time of it all by herself, the cloth was stuck somewhere on the side opposite her. That was why he got up from his seat and sauntered over to the bed. He pulled up the sheet easily, giving it to her, and then when he looked up his eye caught sight of something that made his eyes open wider.
Around this young maid's frail neck was a chain holding a peculiar object. It appeared to be half of a coin, which is the half that belonged to the half that he had in his pocket. It was luck, fate, destiny, call it what you will, that brought these two people together.
For a while he could not take his eyes off of this object that he had been searching for. It was a subject that had occupied his mind for many days and nights. He spent hours laying in bed twirling his half of the coin with his fingers, puzzling over what it could possibly lead to. This was a wonderful discovery, and it jumpstarted his brain.
He found out who she was, not recognizing the name. Silently he wondered how her father had gotten his hands on the object, yet he let the maid finish her work and leave. Somehow, before they leave Port Isabel, he would have to get his own hands on that half coin. He sat in his chair, still drinking the rum that still filled a quarter of the bottle, thinking about what he should do. It was impossible to tare his mind off of the encounter. With his free hand he pulled the piece from out of his pocket, and looked at it in the light. This was going to be very interesting.
A/N: Thanks for the reviews.
