When you're in service, you're only allowed to let on that you know as much as your betters want you to know. I think both parties know how foolish this is – for people living so closely together not to notice little things, and hear little things, and see little things – but it's a pretty little fantasy for them, and a nice secret for us.
Not that there is much to notice, overhear, or see in the Swann household, or at least not much worth talking about over a bit of tea at the end of a long day. Most of us have served the Swanns since before they came to the colonies. I was a young girl then, with my eye on the blacksmith's apprentice. But the move to a foreign land – even if it was under British control – was too much temptation for my blacksmith's sake. I was one of the dozen servants who left England with the Gov'nor. After all there had to be blacksmiths in the islands, right? Shows what I know. My John is the groomsman, and a fine one at that. It wasn't long though, before another blacksmith and his lady became feed for prattering tongues. That his lady was actually our lady made the talk ever so much more scandalous.
We all remember of course, how little Elizabeth had tended to her bedraggled orphan in the days following that dreadful encounter with the burning remains of what had once been a ship. She was imperious, demanding blankets, and warm tea sweetened with honey, and hot brinks wrapped in strips of cloth. The young lady had learned a great deal from her mother's last illness and put her knowledge to work. It was a great thing to see her bright eyes as she went about her work, talking nearly nonstop with the boy once he'd regained consciousness. Aboard ship, some things – like social differences between children – are ignored, and the Gov'nor would never deny his daughter anything.
There was no future in the relationship of course, but neither child seemed to realize that until we docked, and a crusty old man appeared to take charge of Will. But perhaps the boy had been expecting it, because he went with no argument. No, fiery Elizabeth was the one to protest and argue, wanting the companionship of another child. The Gov'nor was tempted, we could see . . . but he was the Gov'nor. If he didn't uphold propriety and decency, who would?
The matter seemed to be put at an end as weeks, months, and years went by and both children grew up. I was promoted from simple housemaid to lady's maid. When the lady turned sixteen, it was decided she was old enough to take on the duties of hostess and chatelaine, and for her introduction to what society Port Royal had, a dinner party was to be thrown in her honor. A dinner party for which she needed a dress.
It was during that trip to the dressmaker's that the lady and Mr. Turner – now grown into the promise of his gangly body, much in the same way a puppy grows into his paws – once again made each other's acquaintance. It was immediately plain to see that the lady's matronly concern had turned into something much more suitable for a young woman, or at least for a young woman who didn't have better prospects ahead of her. It was obvious too, in young Turner's eyes that he had not forgotten his champion and that his feelings too had changed to suit his growing frame. Trouble in the making, we all agreed.
A few months later, the Commodore's – or as he was then, the Captain's – polite greetings on the street became something more. Again, we looked at each other over the kitchen table late at night and talked. Such a fine young officer was a excellent match for our lady, although it was plain to see that she was too lost in her thoughts of her apprentice to notice the Captain's attentions. Young love can be blinding like that, we sighed. A pity she cannot have her love. A great pity.
And now the lady must be exhausted after the day she's had. Much too exciting for someone of her temperament. Most likely she's fretted herself into a dither, I thought as I filled the warming pan, watching my mistress gaze sightlessly into space as she pretended to read.
"There you go, miss. It was a difficult day for you, I'm sure."
She looks at me shares in a confidential voice, "I suspected Commodore Norrington would propose, but I must admit, I wasn't entirely prepared for it."
The poor dove. Love-addled for sure. "Well, I meant you being threatened by that pirate. Sounds terrifying."
She seems to realize her mistake. "Oh, yes, it was terrifying."
"But the Commodore proposed," I cooed, the general consensus downstairs being that she needed to be nudged into acceptance of what kind of life was laid out for her. If after a year or two of marriage, she still loved the boy . . . well, her husband would be gone a lot. "Fancy that. Now that's a smart match, Miss, if it's not too bold to say."
She started her sightless gazing again, seeing young Turner most likely. "Yes, it is a smart match. He is a fine man; the sort any woman should dream of marrying."
But not who she dreamed of marrying. Well, if she had the will for it. . . "That Will Turner, he's a fine man too."
She looks sharply at me. "That is too bold."
And just what she wanted to hear. "Begging your pardon, Miss. It's not my place." No, that would be in the kitchen with a hot cup of tea and plenty or ears to listen to this development.
Author's Note: thanks to all who take time to review. Hope you enjoyed this little tidbit.