Author's Note: Heyla! This is the second chapter I promised. It's longer than the third one and

I'm quite proud of it. I hope you like it as much as you did the last ones. I don't know how many

times I'm going to have to say this, but I don't own Pirates, no matter how much I wish I did. I'm

starting to really dislike disclaimers. But on with the chapter...

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A.L.R.:

The sun was setting over the ocean, that despicable thing, and night was descending on

Kingston. A lone girl of twenty years sat in her balcony overlooking several hills and the

sparkling blue waters of the ocean. She had several candles lit beside her as to better see her

embroidery, which just happened to be sitting on her lap untouched as she contemplated her

prospects on this godforsaken spit of land. No, not spit, it was more like a heap. A great big

barren heap with nobody important but merchant sailors and the odd Lieutenant that sailed

through every so often.

Amelia was not happy with her prospects at the moment. A girl of her age should have

been married ages ago, but she sat in her house a spinster still. There were few marriageable

men left on the island of Kingston permanently, and even fewer that she would consider

marrying.

There was Sir Dwain from a noble family no one had ever heard of. That was probably

because he was several descendants down from a bastard son of some old English king. He had

a rather large nose, which he stuck into all sorts of business that didn't concern him, and a

growing potbelly that he'd hidden under his extra large doublets for several years now.

Mr. Mullroy, although his father was an enlisted man, was an aspiring sailor and would

soon be an Ensign. He was a few years younger than Amelia, but those things didn't matter in

high society. He was a bit plump and looked as if he'd never really lost his baby fat, and he

tended to lapse into the speech of an enlisted man when he became truly passionate about

something, like his beliefs in he ghost tales of the Black Pearl his father used to tell.

Mr. Murtogg, Mr. Mullroy's best friend, was also a candidate. He did not believe his

father's tales, which was a point in his favour, but he was of a lower rank than Mr. Mullroy. He

was also so thin that you could practically see his ribs through his uniform. He was also a few

years younger, and at times seemed to have the intelligence equivalent to that of a sea star, but

Amelia could remedy that problem, by keeping him silent in all social situations.

And of course, Mr. Fenwick from the merchant's quarter simply had to be on her list.

His father had been a very minor lord from Scotland who'd married a very rich widowed

merchant's wife on his first and last visit to Kingston. He'd sired a son, and then left his wife a

considerable fortune when he died on the voyage to Scotland. Mr. Johansen himself was not

unpleasing to look at if one ignored the tufts of hair sticking out from his ears and nose and

concentrated on the money he had instead.

The last candidate on Amelia's list was certainly the best looking in her opinion, although

his parentage and employment left something to be desired. Mr. Turner, a blacksmith by trade,

who was the son of a governor's daughter and a rumoured pirate, although handsome, was not

of the best social standing. His family was rich, however, and that in Amelia's hands could be

used to buy the social standing she desired.

In fact her balcony gave her a perfect view of the Turner's patio area. She'd spent many

a night watching Mr. Turner practice his swordsmanship in that area. The fact that he'd

scandalously had his shirt off many a time only increased her fascination.

Tonight she needed a distraction from the social wreck her life was and staring at that

patio, she silently willed Mr. Turner out of his house. She was pleasantly surprised when the

back door opened and he emerged. But he was with another person. A person in a dress and

bonnet who was attached to his arm in a way that Amelia herself longed to be.

Placating her ego with the fact that this must be a cousin or distant relative did not help

for she knew that both his parents had been the only children in their families. Who was this

woman who thought that she could ruin all of Amelia's plans by taking away the only man truly

qualified to be her husband.

The two sat down on a bench beside Mrs. Turner's famous blue roses, light spilling on

them from what was probably the parlour behind them and allowing Amelia to see them clearly

in the near darkness. From what she could see, they were sitting too close together for Amelia's

peace of mind.

Their quiet conversation could not quite reach Amelia's ears, although she caught a

phrase every now and then. Things like "…missed you…" and "…it's been so long…" did not

add much to her knowledge of the mysterious girl. The girl's voice was lilting and sounded

almost like a song, which, unfortunately, Mr. Turner's deeper voice complemented quite well

even at this distance.

Mr. Turner reached up and undid the woman's bonnet and her hair cascaded about her

shoulders. Amelia was horrified to see that the girl was quite pretty and put that down as another

mark against her new enemy.

The wind shifted and carried their voices up to her, their conversation now clear.

"…really did happen? Da never gave me the specifics. He just told me that you had

survived and moved to Kingston." That was the girl's voice. She had a strange accent, cultured

yet with a tone that slightly reminded Amelia of the sea.

"Well, after a few month's off the ship, father had gotten a reputation as a great

blacksmith once more, and had enough money to sell his wares in the other islands as well. He

packed his best swords on a rented ship and invited mother and I along for the first journey. We

had hardly landed here when news of the earthquakes arrived. Port Royal had been completely

destroyed. Mother was shattered for she had lost many friends, and father had to sell the swords

he had on board for enough money to let us start a new life here…"

So the girl had asked about his escape from the destruction of Port Royal. It was widely

known on Kingston that the Turners had been extremely lucky to have all their belongings with

them on a ship far away from the earthquakes and tidal waves that destroyed Port Royal.

Mr. Turner Sr.'s reputation had preceded him by weeks, and many people had travelled

from several other islands for this sale and were more than willing to pay the high prices for

swords they knew would fit them perfectly. With the money made from that auction, the Turners

had bought one of the largest houses on the island and lived there ever since.

But they were still talking, so Amelia turned her attention back to them.

"And how are things on board, Elizabeth?"

"Not the same since you left. I've had no one to talk to besides Antoine, and all he

wants to talk about is himself. He's a wonder in battle, your father's sword lessons really

paid off, but at any other time I'd love to stay as far away from that rat as possible."

On board? Hopefully this woman was simply a merchant's daughter, or even better, a

merchant's wife. Mr. Turner must have met her on the voyage back from England.

It was known that six years after their son was born, the Turners had taken a cruise on a

merchant's ship, and, when the ship disappeared, not come back for over a decade. The general

belief was that they spent that time in England, with Mrs. Turner's relatives and away from the

disapproving eye of Governor Swann.

The rumours floating around about that trip said that they had spent the years on a pirate ship

with one of Mr. Turner Sr.'s pirate friends. But no one believed that anymore.

Amelia leaned in to listen again, but the wind had died down, and she could hear no more of

their conversation. Mrs. Turner's voice cried out from inside the house, "Bill, Pearl, come for

dinner," and they rose as one and entered the house once more.

So, the girl had two names. Was Elizabeth some sort of nickname used by Mr. Turner alone?

Why would he have a nickname for a simple merchant girl? Amelia allowed her maid to tuck her

into bed while pondering these issues.

Oh, well…she would subtly ask Mr. Turner about the girl at the party at Sir Dwain's house in

two days. Or maybe she could stop by his shop after lunch tomorrow. Yes, that would be

better, and she could invite him over for tea afterwards.

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Author's Note cont.: I didn't thank my reviewers last chapter, so I thought I'd do it now.

LoveJackSparrow: Thank you for the compliment.I actually haven't read that many JackYou fics and am now sorry that I didn't. I've always loved next generation stories.I hope you do become a regular reviewer, I'd love that.

Risika Tziporah: Thank you for reviewing. I'm glad you caught the wig thing. It was kinda mentioned in the last chapter, but only hinted at. I promise I'll explain more soon.