Four

She curtsied low, with a smile planted on her lips, her head tilted towards the ground. The six bowed behind her, out of courtesy. Unlike her, they did not smile, Phineas least of all.

"My lady! There is no reason for such civility! Come, come, stand! We are grateful to receive your company in this household, ever so grateful!"

She straightened, still with that happy expression of hers, "It is our pleasure to be accepted into your household. Are you certain we aren't intruding? Everyone seems so busy today…"

"No, no! Not at all! We are only making early preparations for my daughter's wedding, you aren't intruding at all!" Governor Weatherby Swann, whose face was wrinkled from his smile, motioned them to follow him, leading them deeper into the manor. "Welcome to my home. It's humble, but do not hesitate to make yourself comfortable. I am sure your residence is far greater than this."

"Oh, Governor, you are flattering. It isn't much different." If only he knew what she lived in and where! Ah, the envy on his face would please her. "Your home is very lovely," she lied.

"Thank you, Duchess."

The six trailed behind Dolores, keeping an eye out for any familiar face. Lysander and Lucian, both equally curious, could not help but stare in awe at the several swords that hung off the walls.

"So, Duchess, what brings you to this place? There isn't much to see here."

"Ah, but there are sights to see. There are the people that I look forward to meeting, and I have heard great stories of your legendary ships, especially one called the Interceptor. "

"The Interceptor…" His face darkened with memory, "I know which one you speak of. A pity it does not exist now. Yes, Duchess, it is gone. It was destroyed two years past."

Dolores faked a frown, "It is a pity…" It's not like she hadn't known how it was ruined. Her sources were reliable and accurate; she knew that Jack Sparrow and the bastard son of Bootstrap had united and took that ship for their own. She also knew that it was blown to pieces by order of Barbosa.

Captain Barbosa, a feared man and yet very foolish, was dead now. She remembered him clearly as if she had seen him just the day before. He was, of course, an acquaintance. And he had been affected by the Curse about a decade ago, and dead for only two years.

"I hope you will enjoy your stay, Duchess. How long do you wish to reside in Port Royal?" the Governor's wig seemed to be glued to his scalp no matter how he turned his little head.

"As much time as is needed until I am finished."

"You have business in Port Royal?"

"You could say so."

"Elizabeth! Such a coincidence! Come here! I want you to meet someone very special! Here," he said as he took his daughter's hand. "This is my daughter, Elizabeth. She is to be wed in two weeks! Elizabeth, this is a Duchess of Corsica.

Elizabeth, beautiful beyond any imagination, curtsied low, smiling. Ah! Was she ever exquisite! Dolores copied her action as well, not tearing her eyes from Elizabeth's lovely face. She stood and grinned, "Congratulations, Elizabeth, on your wedding."

"Thank you, Duchess. You and the crew are welcome to attend if you wish. I would gladly accept your attendance," she said. Even her voice was heavenly.

"I will attend. It is a promise."

"Wonderful!" the Governor exclaimed. "Duchess, if you wish, you can freshen yourself and wash away the salt of the sea and join us for dinner. My servants will take you to your quarters."

"Thank you, Governor, I am indebted to you."

"Oh, no! There are no debts! It is my sure pleasure to have such company. I'm sure happy times will fill my home and Port Royal."

A wicked smile crept its way onto her face, "We can only hope."

It was in her room that she spoke to the six. They stood by the fireplace, waiting patiently. Two handmaidens of the Swann household set up a screen of mahogany wood and helped Dolores undress. The six kept their backs turned as she crossed to the bath, separated from them by a white curtain. The Swanns were not as 'humble' as they claimed. The bathtub was made of a white marble lined with yellow gold. She dipped herself into the hot water and let the handmaiden throw in handfuls of rose petals.

She dismissed the two girls, who blushed as they passed the six. Dolores wet her arms and dripped some water down her chest. Oh, how good it felt. She sunk herself in neck deep and closed her eyes for a moment.

"Dolores, how is it that you tricked the Governor into thinking that you were the Duchess of Corsica?" Larz asked.

"Careful, Larz, if one of his servants hear you, you'll be the one to do the cleaning," Benedict warned.

"Have you all forgotten? Mother was Duchess of Corsica, and since she passed, I inherited her title."

"Do you not have a brother or cousin?"

"Yes, I have male relatives, but they were all killed in that ship that Aaron found me in. I am of the last of my line. Whether or not they believe me alive or dead is their own concern. I have the title by my own right."

"They as in the King and Queen?"

"Right, any ruler of any nation. And I still have the amulet that my mother was known for. I doubt the Governor will inform England of my appearance, he doesn't seem that bright. And even if he does, we will be gone by the time they get here."

"And what of the Swanns? We only use them for their lodgings?"

"No. My reasons go deeper. Do you not know, Lysander, who Elizabeth Swann is?"

He shook his head, "She is important to you, Dolores?"

"She is important as a key, Lys. I do not care for her." She looked towards them through the white mesh curtain. "After I'm done, you can have her if you wish. I could care less for that brat."

Larz, Lucian, and Lysander smirked, turned to each other and agreed on a bet: a drinking game. The last man standing would be the one to take Elizabeth for himself.

"Don't be too excited yet, boys," Dolores told them. "We still have unfinished business with an old friend of ours."

"Friend? Dolores, don't kid," Aaron said loudly. "I would cut open my own throat before I ever become friends with him."

She went quiet for a moment then instructed them what to do next. "The letter is on the desk. When you're done, come back, hopefully in time for dinner."

"Dolores? May I go this time?" Lucian asked innocently.

Almost glad that he had asked, she waved them off. The five bowed, their fists over their hearts, and quit the room, leaving Phineas staring at the fire and Dolores soaking in the tub.

"What are you thinking of, Count? What gears turn in that closed mind of yours?" She played with the petals, ripping some of them. "Why does the legendary Count of the Devil Islands not share his thoughts? Hmm?"

No answer.

"There never is an answer, is there? Will there ever be a time when I can hear your voice again?"

Still nothing.

There was the sound of water splashing and footsteps. Phineas turned around to behold Dolores in only a loose black silk robe. Her hair was wet and dripped water onto the floor. She placed her hands flat against his hard chest, where she leaned her head next to it.

"I hear your heartbeat, Count. It beats strong as it always has. It is a smooth rhythm, even and without worry. I hear it, I feel it. There are things I yearn for, and things that I wish that I will never encounter again. But you, Count, you are something different. I know it. I sense it. I only wish to hear your voice again, just once. But if not this day, then I will wait for another. I will wait, as I have waited through these years."

Phineas did nothing. He stared out the window at the setting of the sun, allowing Dolores to rest on him. He did not take any action that she desired. Dolores, the most feared woman of the seas and yet the most desired. She showed no mercy to those who gave her no regard. She took and she seized, and on the rare occasion, she would give. Only he knew her sorrow within, only he knew her true thoughts.

Though she did as much as she could for him, he did nothing in return.