Special Delivery, Part 3
This is a tale that belongs somewhere after the Kettle of Hawks story line. No angst, no hurt. Was intended as a one shot deal but pushy friends have clamoured for more so it looks like this Christmas story won't be finished until next Christmas.
Disclaimer: the usual. Don't own, belongs to the Mouse, no infringement intended, no profit made.
God Rest Ye Merry…Gentlemen?
Weatherby Swann, His Excellency the Governor of His Majesty's Colony of Jamaica, sighed in fond exasperation as his daughter dashed to the window overlooking the drive for the umpteenth time since their noontime repast. She might be married now and a respectable young matron in their society, but he was of the opinion that she would be a very long time growing in to that role.
"Elizabeth."
No response. The girl was oblivious.
"Elizabeth."
Still no response. Exasperation, thy name is Elizabeth.
"Elizabeth!"
Ah, that got through, finally.
"Come away from the window, my dear. They will get here when they get here and not a moment sooner, no matter what you do."
This Yuletide visit was becoming quite the affair, he mulled. Here he was, opening his house to assorted pirates and who knew what else, all for this Christmas dinner that Elizabeth insisted upon, citing for justification her toleration of the tedious round of parties typical of their rather stagnant circle. They could be in for a most surprising time. At least these pirates were not of the ilk of Barbossa and his crew; he still had nightmares generated by that horrifying episode. Things had turned out well in the end though he was not entirely sure whose definition would be most applicable; definitely not that of the upper classes in cold, distant London.
In truth, that reprobate Jack Sparrow was becoming something of a regular visitor to the town. Weatherby smiled to himself; James had latched on to his diplomatic nonsense with poorly disguised relief after the Crown had attempted, and failed, to hang Sparrow for once and for all. Certainly that one day's head start had grown into several, not to mention repeated, near misses and almost captures. Perhaps it was not precisely the letter of the law but it was a more just conclusion to the entire episode.
He had waited for a year to see what activities Sparrow and his crew engaged in before allowing Norrington, Elizabeth and her young swain to persuade him to offer a pardon to the rogue. The Governor was perfectly aware that he himself was not a man of action, nor ever would be, however, he was by no means as dull of mind as many believed. It was a useful device, to be sure, to present a benign, fumbling façade; people so often assumed that what they perceived was the real man. Swann had been quite successful in his ventures for many years and would make use of such a useful tool if he needed it to achieve his ends. He was of the opinion that Sparrow also used similar ruses to misdirect; the man, after all, was quick witted and capable in a surprising variety of situations. Quite entertaining, all told.
Now look at them, all the players upon his little stage. The Commodore and the Pirate were developing quite the camaraderie. He had noticed the changes in both men over the past two years. Norrington had learnt to relax more and to mature past the arrogance he had had as a young lieutenant and captain, justified though he might have been by his early brilliance and success. There was a quick-witted and pointed humour behind the uniform, a sense of humour that Swann thoroughly enjoyed.
As for Sparrow, the outlandish creature had grown on Swann. The return of the Black Pearl to the man's command had been of benefit to the Crown, given Sparrow's restraint from preying upon British shipping. It had not been difficult to give a provisional pardon and a Letter of Marque when he had been importuned by his daughter and her fiancé. The Commodore had been rather more suspicious of the ease of the move, judging by the penetrating looks he had given the Governor, but he too had chosen to accept the offer as presented and not stir things up. There had been moments when Weatherby had had to retreat to his library to savour the nuances of their expressions without giving away his game.
His son-in-law: William Turner the Younger. Now that had been a surprise and not at all a welcome one. It was true; the youngster had become a fine craftsman, especially after the true authorship of his work had come out. Quite an achievement for the poor orphan boy from the wreck they had encountered years ago on the passage out from England. He had noticed the fascination Elizabeth had with the boy and had tried to keep the two children in their proper places but even he had to admit to being an overly indulgent parent in acquiescing to Elizabeth so often.
Still, it was a pity, he thought idly, as he watched his daughter flit across the room back to her vantage point, that Elizabeth had refused Norrington. That would have been a fine match, not merely one of convenience and social standing. James truly had cared for her and had proven his devotion by stepping aside for Will; he would have been a good husband and a good friend for Elizabeth. They were both creatures of passion but James had the discipline and experience to temper his actions and to conceal his inner self better.
His daughter's husband – orphan, shipwreck survivor, blacksmith, pirate's friend and pirate's son – was a good man for all that. The boy had shown some courage in daring to aid the corsair who had saved them all from the undead pirates, probably not the best act of judgement but an honourable course. Elizabeth had declared herself for him in the most public of venues, leaving her father and her friends to make the best of the situation. The Governor thought that his wife would have been most disappointed in Elizabeth's handling of her engagement to Norrington and its humiliating termination.
Swann thought of his late wife and what she would have made of all this and almost laughed aloud as he pictured Amanda's enjoyment of this absurd cast of players. Her loss pained him yet but he had the solace of seeing his lost love in their daughter. In the dark watches of the night, he often laid awake thinking of her and, in his mind, relating to her all the events of the day, almost able to hear her beloved voice and laughter in answer. She had had the most surprising chuckle, he recollected, surprisingly wicked for someone so elegant and ladylike. They had often amused themselves making up stories around the people they had encountered, sometimes quite inappropriate and improbable in nature.
It had not been easy for the boy but Will had worked very hard indeed to learn how to present himself as a gentleman and to progress from blacksmith to master sword maker. He had an innate courtesy that aided matters considerably, once his shyness had been overcome. A handsome face and good clothes did no harm to his cause either.
They had been assisted by Norrington, of all people. Perhaps not so surprising; the naval officer had helped the boy get a start when they had first arrived in Port Royal years ago. Since the fiasco, James had made all efforts to demonstrate his approval of the match and had freely given his support and blessing to the pair. From what Swann observed, the three had become fast friends and were settling into a solid, comfortable relationship.
It had taken time but the townspeople had adjusted and, as Swann had so often noticed, memories were short and people grew accustomed to William Turner as a worthy citizen of increasingly solid reputation. After all, that was what they witnessed every day. There would always be an element that thrived on spiteful gossip and scandal but, so far, his new son-in-law was performing admirably, even borrowing Norrington's patrician and frostily polite stare to silence an obnoxious detractor. Weatherby had been grateful for his long years in court circles when he had seen that familiar glare exercised on the younger face; luckily, he had managed to restrain his laughter until he was alone.
Elizabeth had worked very hard in turn to develop her young man's standing and acceptance in the community. She had connections that allowed her to promote Will's expertise and to foster his reputation much further afield than simple word of mouth would have done. Norrington had aided the project by patronizing Will's shop for Naval orders; Weatherby had done likewise for gifts and the like for his own circle. He suspected strongly that a certain pirate had had his hand in things, to judge by some of the orders Will had filled recently. The simple truth was that the young sword maker truly was becoming a master at his art and the swords he produced testified to his skill.
The future would have to look after itself; today he had pirates coming as Christmas guests. He looked over to his daughter, who was again peering out the window. Ah well, at least this way she was not bedevilling his staff; they were long used to her energy and strong opinions but even they had been driven to vexation with Elizabeth's insistence on one change after another.
The clattering of horses' hooves on the shell and gravel drive announced the arrival of visitors to the Governor's mansion. Elizabeth was about to dash to the foyer to greet them when her father called her back. She knew he would like her to show some decorum and she tried respect his wishes but there were times when she just could not resist her impulses. She had reason today; the Black Pearl had dropped anchor in the bay and the long boat had brought friends for Christmas.
The butler opened the door and ushered the visitors into the foyer, making inquiry as to the names he was to announce to the master of the house and directing them to the green salon to wait. Somewhat to his dismay, the Governor and Mrs. Turner had not bothered to wait for proper formalities and had already joined their guests.
Mrs. Turner hurried out again, once she knew who would be staying at the mansion, to direct the footmen to take Miss Anamaria's baggage up to the blue guest room. She did not bother to wait to ensure her orders were carried out, choosing instead to quickly rejoin the others and begin to catch up on the most recent doings aboard the Black Pearl. Fortunately the staff had prepared refreshments and the butler saw to it that they were brought into the room and offered to all.
Elizabeth and Anamaria were soon ensconced on an elegant settee in the window embrasure, their heads together and words passing rapidly between them, a most unlikely pairing on the surface. Elizabeth filled her friend in on everything that had been happening and her annoyance with some of the tradesmen in Port Royal. Anamaria listened closely, trying to make sense of the difficulties to be found a way of life so different from her own.
Swann chatted with Lieutenant Groves, both men watching the two young women plotting their nefarious schemes. The Governor liked a number of the young officers from the fort; they amused him with their antics and attitudes. Groves was a favourite with Elizabeth and her husband; there was intelligence and capability there in addition to a well turned out form. Norrington would not tolerate a fool under his command and Groves had proven his value several times over.
Swann had noticed the lieutenant's eyes drifting over to the pirate woman seated beside his daughter and the frank admiration showing so clearly. He had no notion where that would lead, given the disparity between the two young persons. On the other hand, this was Jamaica, not England and things were done differently out here.
"Well, Lieutenant, you've managed to deliver the guests to their chosen quarters without incident. Not always a sure thing, to be certain, particularly with these rapscallions, eh?"
"It was not difficult at all, Your Excellency, the assignments were straightforward and presented no problems at all."
"It's not every day that you are sent to welcome pirates in to the town. I should expect that you would have enjoyed a look at the Black Pearl, now that she is in much better condition than the first time we encountered her here in Port Royal."
"You are absolutely correct, sir, the ship has been restored to a very fine state. There was little time to look around properly, given that our orders were to escort the guests with no delays. Captain Sparrow very obligingly offered me a chance to visit his ship and look her over whilst they are in port." Groves' eyes and face lit up with real pleasure as he anticipated his promised viewing of the Black Pearl.
"You have received your invitation to the dinner tomorrow?" Swann asked in a kindly voice. He knew Elizabeth had sent out invitations to a number of the officers at the fort, the ones she thought would provide the more interesting company at her rather unusual dinner. She had already requested that Murtogg and Mullroy escort the Commodore; they would receive a good Christmas supper with the staff. They had been part of the adventure of the Aztec gold and were favourites among the naval personnel, in part due to their comedic behaviour.
"Yes, sir. Thank you for the privilege and the pleasure, sir. We are looking forward to it in great anticipation."
"As for Captain Sparrow, you sent him along to the Commodore's house, did you not?"
"Yes, sir. Those were my instructions from Commodore Norrington."
"I would expect that Norrington's housekeeper will have prepared for his arrival; she is a most noteworthy cook and I have heard Sparrow express his appreciation of her efforts on his behalf upon previous visits."
"I believe that to be true, sir, from comments the Commodore has made. It is a far cry from what is normal aboard a ship and to be enjoyed when one has the opportunity."
At this juncture, Elizabeth rose and came over to rejoin her father and Groves, Anamaria following closely behind.
"Lieutenant, you will be sure to come on time tomorrow, for the dinner and entertainments. It bids fair to be an enjoyable evening."
"Thank you, ma'am, I will strive not to disappoint you." Groves made a warmly polite answer, quite happy to look forward to an affair that he and the others would be able to enjoy without reservation.
"Now that I have fulfilled my obligations in delivering your guests, I fear I must return to my other duties at the fort." With that, Groves made his farewells and left until the morrow, leaving Mrs. Turner and Miss Anamaria to plot whatever he did not want to know about.
"Mrs. B.!"
"I am here at last!"
"The festivities may now commence."
Jack announced his arrival without the least modicum of modesty; after all, he was Captain Jack Sparrow. He knew perfectly well that Mrs. Bloom was expecting him and, ascertaining by the luscious aromas wafting from the rear of the Commodore's pretty house, he would be the beneficiary of her sterling efforts very soon. He had gone around to the entrance to the kitchen, pausing long enough to toss his bags in the front door, seeing no need to stand on ceremony; besides it put him that much closer to his just desserts. The door was open and needing no further encouragement, Jack jingled his way in, catching up the short plump woman, working at the large wooden table, about her waist and swinging her around, kissing her rosy cheeks in greeting.
Mrs. Bloom returned the hug for an instant then scolded him to put her down immediately.
"There's some people have to work, to make things ready for the Commodore, not make nuisances of themselves, like some I could name."
"Ah, I've heard of such people, indeed I have. Never did understand 'em but to each his own, eh, Mrs. B.?"
"You're a rogue, you are, a dratted hairy pirate sneaking in to get under my feet and in my way and track dirt all over my clean floors."
For all the harsh judgement in her words, the housekeeper returned the man's wide grin with an equally wide smile of her own, then pushed him away, telling him to sit down at the table and either make himself useful or stay out of the road. By the time Jack had seated himself, a plate of freshly made tarts and other succulent treats had appeared on the well-scrubbed wood in front of him.
He cast an experienced eye over the selection, approving her choices wholeheartedly. She had some of his favourites all waiting on his arrival, from luscious rum-soaked fruit preserves glistening with sugar to delicate rose flavoured custards, all tucked into fine rich pastry shells. Shaking out the linen cloth she held out to him, he flamboyantly draped it over his lap and tucked into the baked goods like a man who had found his life's dream. His hostess looked on approvingly as he ate, admitting to herself that her pirate did look very smartly turned out today, for all she enjoyed teasing the scamp.
Jack had devoured nearly half the bounty he had been given when he heard the master of the house return. For a moment, Jack considered whether he should be properly polite and go and greet his host but decided against it when he looked down at his plate, his decision made for him by a mango tart glazed with rich rum syrup. The Commodore would realize his guest had arrived by the canvas sacks that had been left just inside the front door. Besides, James knew perfectly well that Jack would have headed straight for the kitchen in hopes that Mrs. Bloom had succumbed to momentary madness and made treats for the pirate. At least, that was what Jack told himself as he squirmed around, settling his behind more comfortably in the caned seat of the chair.
Fortunately, Norrington did know his guest's proclivity for sweet baked goods, hardly a surprise given Jack's gold enhanced smile, and he made his way quietly along to the large and airy kitchen. Sparrow was not the only one who enjoyed the bounty of Mrs. Bloom's expert hands. Perhaps most of the gentry would not deign to go below stairs but this was a small, affectionate household, and James often found himself in the comfortable room. His life was full enough of pomp and circumstance and rigid rules that the relaxed ambience in his own dwelling was a welcomed relief. When the occasion required it, then his house and staff could present themselves as formally as any nob could wish. Today the Commodore's kitchen had its very own pirate and formality could go hang.
He had endured more than his fair share of simpering and fawning at many of the balls and dinners being held this season. Well-born and high ranking naval officers of the unmarried variety were popular quarry among the young women and their vulturine mamas, not to mention those townsmen who wished to form an advantageous connection with the Navy or the Governor. Norrington privately thought that the uniform deserved its share of the blame, making any man of reasonable looks a likely target, reasonable in this case being still breathing or at least above ground. Unlike the Commodore and the other captains, his lieutenants, particularly Groves and Gillette, had the luxury of being lesser quarry and thus more able to elude capture and boarding. Unfortunately for James, he not only had the rank and single status but the looks and background to make him Port Royal's favoured target.
Norrington had removed his hat and left it on the hall table before heading to Mrs. Bloom's domain. He knew his house guest had arrived, hard not to be aware, considering he had almost tripped over the baggage Sparrow had deposited inside the front door. The lovely scents wafting from the kitchen lured him just as much as they had the pirate; the promise of good company drew him along even more so. At any rate, Jack's ulterior motives would not include matchmaking; at least, James devoutly hoped they did not.
He sauntered through the open passageway and was greeted by the sight of his be-crumbed and sugary fellow ship's captain trying to brush the evidence of his gluttony from his clothes, beard and hair. It would appear that Jack had dressed himself as befitted a festive occasion and was in fact rather elegantly turned out, aside from the sticky bits.
"Well, Sparrow, what have you got to say for yourself?"
James could see that his friend's mouth had been crammed with pastry and a quick retort was wholly out of the question until Jack managed to swallow and wash everything down with a drink of wine. He waited for Jack's reply, pointedly tapping his foot on the stone floor whilst maintaining an expression of polite hauteur.
Jack's neck worked as he tried to both swallow and speak, managing a frog-like croak as he began to explain himself to the Commodore, his hands flitting rapidly about as they tried to answer for him. His throat was cleared and his voice restored when he chanced to look more closely at James' face. The man's face gave nothing away but Jack peered at Norrington's eyes and spotted the sly humour hiding there in the ocean green glinting under the long black brows.
"You sneaky, tricksy…Commodore, you. You did that deliberately, Norrington." Words almost failed the pirate as he realized that his friend had timed the question precisely to put Jack in a bind.
"Prove it, pirate."
Now an eyebrow was rapidly quirked. If Jack had not been watching closely, he would have missed that quirk and the challenge it offered. He frowned at the uniformed man standing there so smugly, hands clasped primly behind his back.
"Now then, Sir, Captain Jack is our guest and he's come to have a lovely Christmas here with his friends in Port Royal. It's not nice to make him choke like that, especially when you know how much he likes to chatter."
"You are correct, Mrs. B., Sparrow does chatter. Reminds me of a monkey at times."
Mrs. Bloom was quite unaware of Jack's namesake from the Barbossa episode; however, the same could not be said of Commodore Norrington who had indeed heard of Barbossa's pet monkey and its unwilling godparent from Elizabeth. Jack was under no delusions that James had made that comment in ignorance. Retribution would have to come when James was not expecting it but come it would. For now, Jack merely gave Norrington a pointed glare and deigned not to notice the very slight curl at the outboard end of James' mouth, a dead giveaway to the smirk hiding behind the uniform.
"Sit you down, now, Sir. Your plate is here, all ready for you to enjoy. It's a very nice bit of veal and ham pie, even if I do so say meself."
Mrs. Bloom knew her reputation for her pies was well-earned and nothing did her more proud than to see her young master devour her good pie as quickly and efficiently as Captain Jack was doing with his treats, although the Commodore did manage to keep the crumbs off his pretty uniform.
"Veal and ham pie, you say? Is there enough for me, too, or does he get to have it all?"
Sparrow whined pathetically and turned beseeching calf eyes upon the stout rosy-cheeked woman, not above playing up to her most shamefully. Norrington watched the performance as he ate, quite amused though he was careful to keep a disdainful look on his face as the restless hands fluttered about, emphasizing the expressive kohl-lined eyes. He wondered, as he had on other occasions, if Jack had ties to the theatre, given his friend's propensity for dramatic flair and emoting.
"There's plenty more on the side table, as you can see full well. I would not leave you without enough to eat; you're thin enough as 'tis. Goodness knows what you get to eat when you're not here."
James nearly snorted at Mrs. B.'s comments, the image his mind offered was of a hungry seagull swooping down into his orderly kitchen, squawking and carrying on while cleaning up every scrap of food in sight. Somehow the image of a neat brown sparrow did not carry enough substance; besides, the gulls were the pirates of the sea winds so it was apt. He prudently kept his head turned down to savour the moment in addition to his meal, not wanting to draw Jack's attention.
Mrs. Bloom always enjoyed Jack's performances but this was a busy day and he had already had enough of her time; the Commodore was home now and he would be able to see to their guest's entertainment. She made sure they had plenty to eat and drink and then made ready to depart, calling for the maid to come and help her. Her boys were occupied for now and there was other work to be done for the house. She ran as tight a ship in her domain as did her employer in his. Satisfied things were in good order, she sailed off like a barque in full sail, her indigo skirts billowing around her.
After the housekeeper had left, James asked after the other guests and where they had been billeted. He had made arrangements with the Watch and with his own men to keep the shore parties from the Black Pearl under a light escort. This was not only to protect the crew but to reassure the townspeople as well; they were managing a campaign to establish the Black Pearl as a welcome sight in Port Royal and for the town to accept them. The sooner the memories of the raid and damage caused by Barbossa faded, the better for all.
"Well, Joshamee is staying at Will's quarters in the forge. It's closer to the harbour and he can keep an eye on the crew and the Pearl. It also happens to be not all that far from a lady he has come to visit. Met her a couple of trips past and was quite taken with her…and her pigs."
"Anamaria chose to stay with Elizabeth up at the mansion. Apparently our Lizzie has had some obstructionist tradesmen to deal with and Ana believed that she could be of help there. Bit frightening is what we all thought but we weren't going to tell them that to their faces."
"I concur. There are some things just too risky to chance."
"Aye. Well, we could show some sympathy for William but, considering that he chose his path, I think we should leave him to get by as best he can."
The two continued to chat whilst enjoying their meal. Neither had anywhere pressing to be for the moment, Christmas was upon them and things were quiet enough so that both men could relax. The dinner at the Governor's mansion was not until the next day and Jack and James preferred to remain safely away from Mrs. Turner and her new aide in the meantime.
After consuming the last of his treats and a goodly portion of James' veal and ham pie, Jack stood up and stretched mightily, until the sound of his joints popping and cracking echoed off the plaster walls. He retrieved the bottle of German white wine and his glass and beckoned to Norrington to lead the way to the study where the library shelves and the door down to the wine cellar waited, as well as the battered and much loved chess set James had inherited from his maternal grandfather. A pleasant afternoon and evening of good wine, good books and good company would finish the day off nicely for both of them. Tomorrow promised to be a lively day for all involved.
11
