Disclaimer: The characters and concepts in this story are the property of the Walt Disney corporation. This is an amateur writing effort for entertainment purposes only.
Chapter Five: Straightening
Elizabeth knew only one place where Will would go after the humiliations suffered at the hands of her family. He wouldn't head home because he'd have to face Mr. Brown, a fate worse than death at that moment for poor Mister Turner. Though he was normally passed out, Mr. Brown lost what little discretion he had when he was intoxicated and would not react pleasantly if Will returned early from his wedding rehearsal. Of course, he probably wouldn't react pleasantly if Will returned at all. Their relationship had always fluctuated between hate and dislike. The only reprieve Will looked forward to was Mr. Brown being unconscious.
So where else in the whole of Port Royal could the blacksmith be found after a grueling day of embarrassment? Well, Elizabeth only knew of one spot, and while it would be difficult to reach in her clothing, she felt she owed it to him. It was, after all, her family that caused all the problems.
As a child, she had spent her days under the watchful eyes of a nanny, but always managed to escape the confines of her gaudy prison for several hours or more using the multiple passages down and out of the Swann property. She sauntered across the front yard and out of the gate, forsaking the comforts of a carriage. The journey wasn't that long anyways.
Taking a sharp turn down an alley, Elizabeth found herself at the stone fort wall protecting all of their settlement. She smirked, knowing full well that he father trusted these walls to keep her from escaping. Yet beneath the overgrowth of vines was a small crevice left in the wake of a pirate attack most likely, one just big enough for a woman of Elizabeth's size to slide through. The skirt was a minor difficulty, but by bunching it up and dragging the bulk of it behind her, she was able to slip through without marking up the lovely new gown her father had purchased for her. It was imperative that she return to the manor without any sign that she had left.
The crevice led only to a steep incline of rock that lead down to a vast beach below. Ne'er as she could tell, she was the only one who knew of such a passage, since every time she came there the sandy cove was empty.
Jogging now, knowing that she was getting closer, she descended and leapt to the sand. Her energy, however, only landed her face first in the sand with a mouthful of grit. Spitting feverishly and dusting herself off, Elizabeth was surprised to find a hand offered directly in front of her face.
"Quite the fall you took there, ma'am," a low voice spoke eloquently, laden with an accent one could only describe as 'true Londoner'. Having believed herself to be alone, Elizabeth was greatly confused at the other presence now with her, but accepted the hand nonetheless.
The grip was strong and in an instant, she was on her feet once more, staring into the face of her rescuer. Though and inch or two shorter than she, the gentleman was broader shouldered. His hair was dark brown, hanging in a ponytail halfway down his back at the time and tied with a crimson ribbon, the top hidden by a black tricorn to match his coat. He had green eyes which stood out quite vividly from his pale skin, the true mark of a nobleman especially in the Caribbean where the sun baked even those who stayed indoors. A small black mustache and beard adorned his lip and chin, distinguished but not overdone. The same went for his wardrobe – simple, but not cheap. The silver buckles on the coat gleamed in the sun, and the vest, shirt, and trousers beneath were all pressed and clean.
"Better, ma'am?" he inquired. Elizabeth was now fighting the urge to spit, knowing that it was inappropriate to do so, especially in the company of a man who was not her husband. The gentleman seemed to sense her discomfort and offered her a handkerchief, seemingly produced from nowhere.
"Clean your tongue," he suggested. "Chewing sand isn't healthy at all."
Unable to speak in order to protest, Elizabeth did as he said, turning her face from him so he wouldn't see. The gentleman hardly seemed offended. He just waited patiently for her to finish.
"I don't think you want this back," she said with a nervous laugh, looking from the handkerchief to the man's face. He laughed as well and shook his head.
"No, thank you ma'am, best to leave it where it belongs," he pulled it from her fingers and cast it out to the wind, allowing it to drift into the water before he looked to her once again. "I wasn't expecting anyone to come down this way."
"I was actually looking for someone," Elizabeth said. "But you say this place is empty?"
"Aside from you and I? Yes ma'am."
The thought made her nervous, although the man seemed hardly the type to attempt anything. Though Elizabeth had heard stories from the Court of even the most charming gentlemen turning sour when left alone with a woman. She smiled and glanced back at the fort.
"I should probably be going," she said.
"As should I. Charmed to have met you ma'am. Careful on the rocks!" he bowed graciously and walked off down the beach without another look in her direction.
Dusting off her gown, Elizabeth sighed deeply. The whole trip had been useless, and now she was left to search the rest of Port Royal for her estranged fiancée. Well, I suppose I could always check his house, she thought with a shrug, and headed back the way she came.
Will lived not far from the Manor, though she was definitely out of her territory now. Born into privilege, Elizabeth had barely cast a glance into the cheaper side of living until she reached the Caribbean. Only then did she see the stark contrast between her way of life and everyone else's. Will's living conditions were less than satisfactory, and once married he would become a permanent resident of Swann Manor. But until then, her father maintained veto power over all lodgers, and William was definitely not on his quest list.
His apartment was immersed completely in the poverty stricken streets of Port Royal. Festering with rats and insects, Elizabeth knew it was a miracle he had not been overcome with sickness yet. She thanked her lucky stars that he was strong enough to be immune…for the time being.
Upon entering the Brown Blacksmith shop, Elizabeth found her lover hard at work, unleashing his frustrations upon yet another sword. The hammer struck so hard that spark flew absolutely everywhere, and Elizabeth was careful not to get to close for fear her skirt may catch flame. She watched as he pounded the kinks out of the metal in order to transform it into a flat sheet, fit for a blade; acting out what he so desperately urged to do in life. She could see the questions burning in his gaze, the ones that pondered why life itself could not be as malleable as hot steel. Why could people not smooth as easily as the metal he now worked? Why could he only do right when he wasn't with anyone else in the world?
He didn't say a word, but he knew she was there. She could feel it, like another presence in the room. Will Turner had a strange sixth sense for other people, especially those he loved. This was likely because Will Turner had so few in the world; just a noble woman and a pirate, both of which were at the time out of reach.
His movements slowed, soothed by her company. Sometimes all she had to do was just look at him and everything became more gentle, even the cold shoulder of her family. Their eyes met in desperation, his own the epitome of grief because at the moment he felt as if he was like the stubborn knots of metal he furiously at. Only unlike most, he refused to straighten. There were aspects of himself that he could not change – his origins, his lineage – and while the rest of the world stared only at that, Elizabeth saw him for the sword he was about to become.
If that day ever came.
"They don't mean anything, Will," she said. "You shouldn't let them get to you."
"Easier said than done," he replied, looking back at the metal before him. He struck it again, hard before placing it back in the hearth. Will dropped against the ledge heavily, holding himself upright with the last of his strength. His arms had been so overworked prior to Elizabeth's arrival they shook.
"Will…" she was begging him now. He stared into the flames and couldn't pull his gaze away, overwhelmed by his own insignificance. "Will, look at me."
Her voice called him from the fire and he finally turned, but couldn't hold his gaze for more than a second before it dropped again. Elizabeth took it upon herself to make the situation better and moved up to him. "Will, I chose you, remember? It's my choice, and I chose you."
"It's more than that," he said quietly, eyes on the orange glow of molten steel once again. "I'm nothing more than a boy you dragged out of the ocean, Elizabeth. I'll never be a sailor or a nobleman…I'll never been anything than the son of a pirate, a blacksmith's apprentice…"
"But that's why I chose you," she reasoned, finally attracting his gaze. "Noblemen are a dime a dozen, sailors more so. But you are the most genuine man that I have ever known Will. You are sweet, and kind, and tolerant."
"But a pauper first and forever," he reminded her. "It won't matter how good I am or how much we love each other. You family will never accept us."
"So be it," Elizabeth said bravely. "If that's what it means than I still choose you, Will."
"I won't let you give up your family for me."
"You mean more to me then they ever will," she said, placing her hand on his.
"They're your family, Elizabeth. They will always be there."
"Then we will face them together."
They were so close now. She could feel his breath on her skin, his hand on hers only intensifying their need to be near one another again. Their eyes closed at the same moment and they leaned in to kiss one another.
"Ahem," a voice said from the door. Will nearly shot himself. He knew that voice and it meant that the single worst day of his life hadn't ended yet.
"Commodore Norrington," he said, turning to face the stoic soldier. Looking particularly pompous that day, the Commodore barely regarded Will and turned his sights immediately on Elizabeth.
"The Governor requested that I track you and your 'fiancée' down for supper," he said with a sneer. "Though I dare say I caught you at an awkward time. Heaven forbid that Governor Swann discover you were without a chaperone. It might put an awful strain on the marriage…such as it is."
Elizabeth looked back to Will. "I'll see you at supper than?"
He sighed. There was nothing more he wanted to do with the Swann family today, except perhaps go on a murderous rampage, but Will closed his eyes and nodded 'yes'.
Reviews
taurusbaby0509: I'm so happy to read that you're enjoying it thus far! Yes, the Swanns would probably be very disappointed when considering who their beloved Elizabeth chose over Commodore Norrington. Meh, they'll get their's. Lol. Thanks again!