A/N: This is the last chapter before we finally hit the beginning of At World's End!
Theo's first day spent in Beckett's offices was enough to have her dreading the rest that might follow. Even once her outright discomfort gave way to the marginal improvement of a general sense of unease, it was just so boring. There was little chance to use this whole thing to her advantage, because any time somebody came by to discuss official matters - which was just about all people came by to discuss - he ensured that she would not overhear by either having them relay their news to him in hushed whispers, or sending her from the room outright if the matter desired a more lengthy discussion.
A small mercy came in the form of how he steadfastly ignored her. He didn't spend the day delighting in worming his way under her skin, nor did he needle her for constant predictions. The most interaction they had was his questioning glance once she'd had enough of twiddling her thumbs and mustered the courage to stand and walk towards the great bookcase the room boasted. She'd gestured towards it in askance and he'd nodded fairly disinterestedly before returning to his work, uttering only a "see that you return it to its proper place when you're finished".
The only books here were ones on naval history, and it turned out that her experiences over the last year had done nothing to make the topic more interesting to her. Or maybe writers these days hadn't yet mastered the art of thrilling the reader. It was all very dry, and it could've used a dragon or two. Or, failing that, cursed skeletal pirates. Just for a bit of nostalgia. It spoke for just how mind-numbing staring at her skirts had been, though, that the book she chose was still better than her previous occupation.
After the bright sunny day gave way to a brilliant fiery sunset, situated just right through the windows in order to turn the room into a sauna, the room began to dim until a servant came in to diligently light all of the tapers dotted around the office. Theo was wondering if she should send word that she'd need a nightgown when footsteps strode down the hall and the man stationed in the doorway stepped in.
"Admiral Norrington, sir."
Stifling a huge sigh of relief, Theo snapped the book shut and dropped it to her lap. James did not wait for a call to enter, almost walking straight into the soldier as they both tried to pass through the doorway at the same time. So preoccupied was her husband, though, that the subordinate didn't even earn a vaguely unimpressed glance for his blunder. He walked into the room and she rose to her feet, relying on sheer force of self control to stop herself from running to him out of sheer relief. At least she felt a little bit less daft for that urge when she saw the utter relief that flashed through his eyes for a split second before he became all Admiral Norrington.
"Ah, Admiral," Beckett greeted as though he wasn't aware that James had practically just stormed in ready to stage a rescue effort "Good. You've saved me the trouble of sending her back with an escort - lest she go running off into the jungle…for a second time, if the stories are to be believed."
"...Lord Beckett?" James asked slowly.
"Your wife, for the foreseeable future, is to spend her waking hours here so that I might benefit from these fabled visions of hers as soon as they occur. If any such premonition should strike when she is not here, it falls to you to bring it to me as quickly as possible."
When he said it did he mean the information or her? He clearly had no problem with talking about her like she wasn't present, so maybe discussing her like she wasn't a person at all was just some sort of uppity natural progression.
"Sir, should anything require your attention, you would know within the hour, - at most. I really don't see the necessity of such an extreme measure."
"And as things stand now, I will know within the minute. That is the necessity of such a measure, and my decision on the matter is final. It's just good business," he stood and rounded the desk, coming to a halt with his hands behind his back with that horrible, mirthless little smile on his face "It's all quite proper, Admiral, I assure you - there's always some manner of chaperone here."
Theo suppressed a snort. All the men here were Beckett's men. They wouldn't utter a word of argument if he saw fit to ravish her on his desk. Thankfully for all involved, it appeared she wasn't really his type. He didn't really seem the sort to have a type at all, and she couldn't imagine him having any interest in anybody other than himself. Shit, he probably cried out 'it's just good business' when he climaxed. There was a grim thought. To combat the wave of nausea that thought sparked, she stood and slid the book back into the shelf, very aware of Beckett's gaze upon her making sure she returned it to the right spot.
"I trust my wife," James replied flatly, and then added "As far as that is concerned, at least."
The addition was for show, she knew that, but he did a remarkable job at making it sound sincere and she bowed her head as though chided. When she looked up again, he beckoned her over with a gesture and she complied - somewhat moodily, her lips pursed and her nostrils flared, for if she looked too meek it would be a blatant act.
"See that she is returned in the morning," Beckett offered in the way of greeting.
The pursing of Theo's lips was a bit more genuine after that, but she followed James' lead when he bowed his head and dipped into a quick and shallow curtsey and then - finally - they could leave. She didn't breathe properly until they were in the carriage waiting outside.
"I've invited Groves for dinner tonight."
She'd waited until the carriage was moving before she spoke, that way they wouldn't have to worry about being heard over the hooves of the horses and the rattle of the carriage, and even then she spoke softly. James didn't appear to have any intention of protesting her choice of topic - or, rather, the topic she hadn't chosen. What was the point of discussing it? Beckett had decreed that she spend her days in his offices, and so she had no choice but to do so. Whining about it would solve nothing, and until they formulated something resembling a game plan, she didn't really want to spend the precious time in which she was free from the man discussing him unless absolutely necessary.
"Tonight?" James sighed, smoothing a hand across his features "I don't much feel like entertaining, Theodora. Not after today."
"Neither do I," she replied "But it's not really a social thing. He feels lied to."
"A fair assessment."
"Yeah," she sighed "Would you believe I couldn't stand lies before I came here? Hated 'em. Dealbreaker every time."
Stretching out one long leg so that it pressed against the outside of her own through her skirts, he offered a soft look "I can believe that entirely without difficulty. As distasteful as this entire matter has been, and as exhausting as it still proves, I have never once been taken by the notion that you've delighted in any part of it."
Theo smiled her relief, nodding slowly and then murmuring "Maybe some parts of it."
He chuckled and shook his head "I think we might steer the matter back to Groves before this conversation becomes entirely improper."
Seeing his point, and the need for a proper conversation on the matter while they could rely on not being overheard, she sighed.
"We owe him an explanation. Hattie, too. It just makes sense to get it all done at once so we're not worrying about different stories and different details. And, to be honest, so we don't need to sit through the whole ordeal twice in a row."
"A sentiment I can whole-heartedly support."
"Good. Now the question is what to tell them."
"Exactly what Beckett was told," he said as though it were obvious.
And maybe it was, which was why she winced when she slowly began to reply.
"That's definitely a very valid option. But what about telling them the truth?"
It was then that she learned what his men must have felt like whenever they made a particularly foolish blunder, because James was truly a master of the unimpressed look, watching her as if he couldn't quite decide if she was just trying to wind him up or not.
"You're not serious."
"Would you think me more or less of an idiot if I tried to play off the suggestion as a big practical joke?"
"You're not an idiot, my darling, and it's a mark of your good character that you've no wish to perpetuate falsehoods to those whom you consider your friends. But it would not be wise."
"I think Groves has his doubts about Beckett."
"He does," James confirmed "He said as much to me this morning. That while our men here knew what they were taking upon themselves insofar as fighting and dying to stamp out pirate brutality is concerned, doing so - fighting and dying, that is - for the ambition of Beckett is another matter entirely. I cannot say I disagree."
"So he wouldn't give us away, then, would he?"
"Not purposefully, perhaps, but you know how Beckett schemes and manipulates - how he is. And while Groves would be a risk, forgive me when I say that Hattie would be a jeopardy. Her nerves hang by a thread as it is, she is young, and Beckett frightens her."
"With good reason," she muttered ruefully "You're right. Telling her and then expecting her to keep it secret would be more cruel than lying. I should've thought it through, I'm sorry."
"Don't be," he shook his head "I understand the temptation."
"They'd never believe it anyway. You wouldn't have even believed it if I didn't have proof, and I don't have that anymore."
She wanted nothing more than to pry all of the pins and ties from her hair so she could let it fall loose and rake her hands through it. But the point of the upcoming dinner was to prove she wasn't mad, and turning up looking like she'd been dragged through a hedge backwards would be a piss poor start. It'd be a nice little throwback to her first introductions to most folk here, though.
"Telling the truth only shares the burden of the truth in this case, rather than easing it," he said, and then hastened to add "In their case. In mine it saved me another few years of puzzling out what exactly it was about you-"
"That was so bloody odd?"
"That maddened me so."
"Let's hope a day never comes where that crosses the line from being a novelty to a pain in the arse," she snorted.
"My line of work has afforded me with an impressive ability to deal with annoyance," he said "As have my dealings with Sparrow, for that matter."
"You romantic, you," she teased, nudging his knee with her own.
"It has also given me a keen eye in matters concerning differentiating what is a nuisance and what is not. I can happily say that you do not fall into the former category."
"Yet."
"Theodora."
"I'm sorry."
She wasn't even sure what she was apologising for. All of it, really. Everything. She was tired, and she was scared, and she knew she'd only grow more tired and more scared before this was done and she was oh so fed up of being brave. It would be fine. After she allowed herself this little moment, she'd pull herself together, get a grip, and she'd be fine again. Or at least okay. She'd pull her socks up and she'd get on with it all. But in her fatigue and in her worry, all she could think of was how easy it would be for James to resent it all. Anybody would. It was difficult for her to resent much of anything other than fate, and perhaps Achtland, because she'd had no choice in any of it. It was difficult to regret something you'd been dragged into with no choice. Would it be easier for James? Would the difficulties rack up and he'd end up wishing he'd just passed her over for an easier, more conventional choice after all? Even Elizabeth, for all of her own unconventionality, would look like a much easier choice in the face of all of this.
"Don't be."
It was said so sincerely, and with such feeling, that she immediately felt guilty for her doubts in the first place. They weren't even real doubts - just more fear. Because he'd never do that, and she knew he wouldn't. He was too loyal, too damn good. It wasn't that she didn't trust him, just that she knew she could not blame him if that resentment did surface.
"Sor-" she caught herself before she could finish her apology for apologising, and fell silent instead, sighing heavily.
A day under Beckett's scrutiny had worn her down, and there were many still ahead. Pursing her lips, she lowered her gaze and swore she wouldn't get emotional. She wasn't that bloody weak, and there was no room for it. Shifting on his side of the carriage, James leaned forward and took one of her hands in his, pressing her knuckles to his lips.
Hattie sat opposite her employers at the table in the dining room, side by side with Lieutenant Groves. When they'd entered and requested that she sit down to dine with them it had been very strange indeed, and things had grown no less abnormal since then with what Admiral and Mrs Norrington went on to explain to them. Only when they were finished talking did it occur to Hattie to look to Lieutenant Groves to see how he might react to this…this impossibility. His face was grave, but he didn't seem entirely shocked.
"Lieutenant Groves was made privy to this information last night," Admiral Norrington supplied in response to her visible confusion "But Theodora and I thought you were both long owed a satisfactory explanation - as an acknowledgement of your loyalty, if nothing else."
"It's long overdue," Mistress Theodora spoke up then "But you can see why we couldn't say."
She had barely looked at either of them throughout the entirety of this strange meeting, her eyes fixed instead on the table, and incredibly tired. More than that, she was pale even by her own standards.
"You're a…are you a witch, then?" Hattie asked quietly.
"No," she and Admiral Norrington answered at once - emphatically - before she continued "I don't practise witchcraft, this isn't…this isn't something I do, it's something that happens to me."
"An affliction?" Groves suggested.
The way the couple's lips thinned grimly in near-perfect unison suggested their agreement with that description.
"Quite," Admiral Norrington agreed "One to be managed as best as we can."
"We do get that this might be difficult to believe," she added quietly, finally looking at Hattie directly with a great heaviness settling across her features "I didn't tell James until he found me in Tortuga, and even then it was difficult for him until I managed to prove it…"
"How did you prove it?"
"Time," she said "I knew when Jack would return to Tortuga, I knew how his return would go, I knew what would happen on Jones' island, and how he'd get the heart."
"It…also served to explain several events now in the past," Admiral Norrington added "Such as-"
"You knew," Hattie said - before she could even stop herself from interrupting him "I- Sorry, sir, I…"
He waved off her apologies and gestured for her to continue, and when Hattie did so she spoke directly to the woman sitting opposite her.
"The attack on Port Royal - by the crew of The Black Pearl. You knew it was going to happen…I…I always thought you so collected that night, you didn't even stop to wonder what was happening. But you knew. You were ready."
The Irishwoman nodded slowly, the corners of her lips downturned solemnly.
"And that was how you knew of Sparrow's plan. The one to steal The Interceptor. It wasn't your idea at all, as you'd claimed. It was his. You…you knew," Hattie's realisation had sparked one of Groves' own, but he didn't wait for confirmation before continuing "And after, on The Dauntless…"
"I knew the pirates would attack. That's how I could raise the alarm."
Groves hesitated "With respect, I was referring to earlier that day. You insisted on remaining on deck despite clearly needing rest. I had always assumed Miss Swann had shared with you her intention of accepting the…"
"The proposal," Mistress Theodora supplied when he hesitated "Yes. I always knew."
Admiral Norrington betrayed his discomfort by the turn the conversation had taken by shifting in his chair.
"I also knew that it wouldn't go ahead," she added "Although the reasoning was…well, that doesn't matter now. I knew."
"But you still left," Hattie frowned.
"I had to," she replied "I didn't want to - I hated doing it, but I didn't have a choice. I-"
"You knew Beckett would soon be here with his warrants," Groves breathed "And you wished to avoid arrest."
"Kind of- er, in a manner of speaking," she replied "I didn't realise he'd have a warrant for me. That was stupid of me, really. If he had them written for all of the others, of course he'd have one for me, I just didn't think…"
"It was an act of selflessness," Admiral Norrington spoke up, saying what his wife apparently would not "It occurred to Theodora that if she remained here when I found myself free to marry her, I would likely be here when Beckett arrived without means of redeeming myself. It was only in…"
"In tracking me down to Tortuga that he was in a position to make a play for the heart," Mistress Theodora supplied when her husband hesitated.
Strangely, that was the first time for the entirety of this conversation where Hattie felt like she was being lied to. The Admiral was not a man who took failure or shame well, and while she was sure that tracking Miss Byrne, as she was then, was of some importance to him, she didn't quite believe that it was the sole reason he'd gone to Tortuga. The day he left stuck out in her mind still. There'd been some determination about him then, and he had made a stilted reference to now being available to find Miss Byrne, but he'd had the appearance of a man in need of time to lick his wounds. All in all, however, it was a white lie, and one the woman was telling to spare her husband blushes. Hattie could understand it, and she could forgive it.
"You…you truly believe this, then? Both of you?"
It was clear that the majority of Lieutenant Groves' disbelief on that matter was towards Admiral Norrington, who grimaced and then nodded slowly.
"Do you?" Mistress Theodora asked, her gaze flickering nervously between the two of them.
"It certainly wouldn't be the strangest thing to have happened these last couple of years," Hattie said quietly.
Which had her wondering why it felt like it was? Perhaps because this was the closest to home - quite literally. Cursed pirates and Davy Jones were all well and good, but none of them slept under the same roof as Hattie. She'd never so much as met the others. Now she had to contend not only with this revelation, but the fact that she'd had no inkling of it. Yes, there'd been eccentricities but there were always far more conventional things to blame for them. Her- her Irishness, her strange upbringing, even the manner in which she was first discovered. Being adrift at sea was bound to give anybody a quirk or two. But this?
"It also answers a lot of questions," Lieutenant Groves murmured in agreement "I suppose this has something to do with how we first came to find you, too?"
Hesitating, Mistress Theodora faltered and then sighed and admitted "I wasn't in a shipwreck - not really. Well. The ship I'd been on did wreck, but I abandoned it the night before it was set to happen when the captain wouldn't listen to my warnings. I jumped overboard. I knew if I did, I'd survive."
"Why not warn us? That Sparrow would escape execution? If you've truly no loyalty to him, you could have done so and we might've been prepared," Groves pointed out with a frown "Then the Commodore, as you were then, sir, would not have given chase, would not have resigned his commission, and Beckett would never have had a opening to take advantage of here. Order would have been maintained."
"Some…some things have to happen. Some bad things lead to better things further down the line…" she tried to explain weakly.
"What Theodora is too good to say," Admiral Norrington cut in "Is that she tried to warn me. The night prior to the execution. I am ashamed to admit that I dismissed it as hysteria, and paid the price for my ignorance."
"It wasn't that simple," Mistress Theodora disagreed after looking at him aghast for a few long moments, shaking her head fretfully.
The Admiral offered no response. Judging by the pursing of his wife's lips and the furrow of her brow, she wasn't pleased by his admission at all - by his taking on the blame. Whatever loyalties of theirs were in question now, those that they held for one another were not.
"The point being is that neither of us ever set out with the intention of deceiving you," Admiral Norrington brought the conversation back to the matter at hand "I shan't pretend it wasn't partially an act of self-preservation, but it was not one of distrust. We thought to shield you."
"It's not exactly a fun thing to know," Mistress Theodora added ruefully.
At Hattie's side, Lieutenant Groves snorted - mirthfully, too, despite it all.
"I…I must go," Hattie said numbly, already rising to her feet.
"Hattie…" the Irishwoman was swift in rising to her feet at the same time "If you need time alone to process this, take as long as you need off, but you don't need to leave to get some space. We're not going to strong arm you into talking about it."
Hattie shied away out of instinct when she lifted a hand to reach for her, and despite her confusion and how cloaked in fog her mind was, she felt guilty for the wince that elicited as she faltered for a moment and then gently clasped her hands before her, smoothing her features into an expressionless mask. But it was not an unkind one. The two men in the room then slowly, and somewhat awkwardly, rose to their feet until it looked like they were all preparing for some kind of action but were none-the-wiser as to what that action might be.
"No, Mistress, it's…that is yes, a walk would be beneficial to my nerves, there's no denying that, but…Lord Beckett wishes for me to see him tonight."
Understanding dawned on all of their faces then, before they all went on to offer different reactions. Mistress Theodora turned worried, the tiredness that had taken root on her features amplifying even more then, while Admiral Norrington did his best to give no hint as to his feelings at all, and Lieutenant Groves' lips set into a thin, solemn line.
"I shall walk you," the Lieutenant offered after a moment's pause, but Hattie was already shaking her head.
"No - no, thank you sir. I would be alone."
She could hardly steel her nerves for her meeting with Lord Beckett if she was concerned with making small-talk and remembering her manners on the whole walk there. Thankfully they spared her any further insistence, regarding her with varying degrees of worry as she dipped into a curtsey and then left the room.
The walk helped more than Hattie had hoped - mainly because she'd hardly dared hope that it would help at all, but there was nothing that could ever have her feeling at ease in the presence of Lord Beckett. When she entered he remained behind his desk, writing away at some letter or another. It did little to help her nerves that a meeting that she dreaded so was of such little consequence to him that he found himself quite able to attend to other matters while dealing with her. These meetings were oft all that occupied her mind even when she was going about the housework, and yet he was barely concerned with them when they were actually taking place.
"Unless you might soon supply me with a piece of information that may prove of some use, I'm unsure as to how you're of any use," Lord Beckett said.
It was said frankly - and so casually, too, as though he was commenting on how he thought it was likely to rain during the night. It had Hattie's heart sinking all the same. But what could she tell him? Admittedly, she'd heard the two arguing last night when they'd returned home - she'd been unable to make out the words, only the tone, but given what she'd since found out had occurred earlier in the night, it would be of no surprise to Beckett that tensions had been high in the household thereafter.
"They…they asked for me to eat dinner with them this evening - along with Lieutenant Groves."
"Their friendship with the lieutenant is no secret," Lord Beckett replied flatly.
"But they specifically asked that I join them so that they could explain it to me along with him - they trust me. They view me as a friend. At least Mrs Norrington does."
And she was her friend, but voicing that much now would do little good.
"So you learned of her ability almost twenty-four full hours after I myself did. If I were interested in being told what I am aware of, you would be an ideal candidate."
Panic was surging within her, and if not for her manners she'd have lowered herself into one of the finely upholstered chairs the room boasted in order to collect herself. What could she tell him? What was there to tell him? There were secrets in the house, that was clear to any old idiot even before she'd been made privy to them, but it was hardly a den of intrigue in the way he seemed to think it was.
"She…that is, Mrs Norrington knew you would soon arrive with your warrants following Sparrow's escape, sir. That was why she fled - not out of loyalty to the pirates, nor because of Miss Swann's, er, prior betrothal."
"To avoid arrest?"
"Because she knew Admiral Norrington would pursue, and that he could then get the heart."
"He very well may have gone to Tortuga anyway, disgraced as he was."
"Not, forgive me sir, if Mistress Theodora remained. He'd have never gone to Tortuga if doing so meant bringing her with him."
"It seems Mrs Norrington is far cleverer than she'd have anybody think," Lord Beckett said softly "But again, this information is of little use to me now."
Any tenuous sense of security she'd managed to build vanished completely.
"It proves the truth of her claims- of her abilities."
"Something that I would have ascertained sooner or later of my own accord. And something that remains prudent, really, considering all she has done thus far is retroactively explain actions that would otherwise look incredibly questionable to the civilised eye. I know of other maids who would be far more adept at discerning information that might of be some use to me from that which is not, so perhaps I-"
"She's pregnant."
Now Lord Beckett stilled, depositing his quill into the inkwell that sat on his desk. As she'd said it, she'd worried that it wouldn't be enough - it was gossip at worst and intrigue at best - but he wanted something he could use, something nobody knew, something they didn't know that he might know. And this was the best thing she could give him, wasn't it? It didn't harm her employers, not in the long term. She would start to show eventually, people would find out sooner or later. Arrangements would soon need to be made, too, if only so that her wardrobe was ready for it when she started to show.
It would take a long while yet before Hattie managed to sift through her feelings on everything she'd been told that evening, but she didn't need to do so in order to know that she had no wish for a baby to be harmed by Lord Beckett's manoeuvring.
"How sure are you?"
"I'm certain, milord. She hasn't…she hasn't bled since they returned. As I'm now her personal maid, one of my duties is to deal with such matters, and I have not been called upon to do so. And she's always that worn out. I've known many women to experience the same sort of fatigue early on. She vomited, too, when she visited Sparrow."
She couldn't speak for any physical changes, seeing as Mistress Theodora insisted on bathing alone and always had ever since they'd met. At present, the only other person present when she took her baths was the Admiral, but sharing that fact truly would be crossing a line, and there was no need to do so. Hattie was sure.
"Yes. I believe she did. Have they confirmed it to you?"
"Not yet, but that's of little surprise, they're…they're very private when it comes to their marriage, even with me," which only added to her guilt now.
She knew she wasn't imagining the malicious sort of smugness that rose to Lord Beckett's face, then, and she regretted saying much at all. But Mistress Theodora knew of the position she was in, and neither her nor Admiral Norrington were fools. In all likelihood, they probably expected she'd already told Lord Beckett. This was the sort of thing maids were known to keep track of. And what could he really do with the information? Surely he wouldn't be so depraved as to interfere with a babe not yet even born? No, at most he would delight in letting them know he knew before they'd chosen to make the information public. A power ploy. A mind game. Little more.
"Very well. You may go."
Hattie curtseyed and then turned for the door, not even trying to hide the swiftness with which she took her leave. And as she did so, she only asked herself one question. Why didn't she feel as relieved as she should have?
A/N: Just reiterating to save confusion - she's not actually pregnant! The implant, which is the birth control Theo is on, is known for stopping periods. Hattie, however, would have no way of knowing this and is putting two and two together and coming up with five.