Disclaimer: I don't own POTC. Chapter title is from this 18th century song verse written by Anonymous.
A/N: I dunno if I can stand to keep Gretchen as a static character. She's really annoying. I was inspired to try though, because I am currently reading "Mansfield Park" by Jane Austen and the character of Mrs. Norris really impressed me because she is the world's biggest bitch. So I'm gonna see if I can stick to it.
Chapter 4: Dear Dark Head
She laughed, stroking Jack's braided beard as he did so. She was about to kiss him when she thought she could hear a horse outside. She stopped and made her way to one of the windows, lifting the curtains and looking out.
"What is it?" Jack asked, striding over.
"It's the Thatchers!" she said excitedly, forgetting her nervousness about their visit. She flung the doors open and began walking down to the gate in her bare feet.
The first one out of the coach was Gabriel, and he looked just as handsome as ever. His smile brought her back to the last time they'd slept together, and she embraced him tightly. "Gabriel, it's so good to see you again," she said warmly.
He smiled and nodded, pulling away. "And you as well, Camille," he said. He hesitated for a moment to let go of her arm, but released her immediately when he caught sight of Jack lingering in the doorway.
Priscilla was the next one to bounce right out of the coach. She curtseyed very politely. "Hello, Miss Camille. It's so good to see you again," she said, bounding into Camille's arms afterwards.
"Hello again, darling," Camille responded. "How are you doing?"
"Wonderfully!" Priscilla exclaimed. "Though we have missed you quite a bit. Gabriel won't stop talking about you."
She looked at Gabriel, who flushed. "Oh, really?" she inquired.
Priscilla nodded. "Yes, and Gretchen is back to being a prat again!" she whispered fiercely.
"I heard that, Priscilla!" Gretchen said as Camille burst out laughing. Gretchen was dripping with lace and pearls, as usual. Her hair was in tight curls, and it looked as if she had been primping the entire way just for this moment when she could step off the coach and look fabulous. The men scurried around her, getting all of her luggage. Camille could see the coach actually lighten as her bags and suitcases were lugged off.
"You can just set the luggage in the front hall," she explained to the men, who looked anguished at having to carry it all the way up the hill.
"Yes, and don't drop any of my things," Gretchen snarled.
Camille winced. Ah, Maximilian Thatcher's genes. "It's lovely to see you too, Gretchen."
Gretchen gave a slight nod, but still had her nose up in the air. "You as well, darling. Where are you servants? I broke a nail on the uncomfortable, long ride over here. And I feel terribly exhausted."
Camille sighed. "Actually, I don't have any servants. But I would be happy to assist you until the rest of the household comes back," she offered.
Gretchen stared at the tremendous house at the end of the winding path. "Am I supposed to walk all the way up there?"
"It's not really that far," Camille assured her, taking Priscilla's hand and starting up the stairs just behind the gate. Gabriel followed at their heels, leaving his whining sister behind.
Camille showed them into the house, tipping the poor coachmen generously before they left. Gabriel and Priscilla looked around. "It's beautiful," Priscilla exclaimed. "How many others live here, Miss Camille?"
"Seven others, not including myself," Camille said, trying to move one of the suitcases. "Gretchen, what did you pack in here? It's so heavy!" she exclaimed.
"Clothes," Gretchen said simply. "Now, show me to my room. I must change."
"You just changed before getting into Port Celebros," Gabriel said, rolling his eyes.
"Oh, do be quiet! Don't pretend you know anything about what a lady has to go through," Gretchen snapped.
"Speaking of ladies, what are you doing here?" Jack said, making his presence known. One of Gretchen's suitcases was opened, and he was trying on rings and necklaces, sorting through it.
"Captain Sparrow!" Priscilla beamed.
Gabriel went rigid again. "Hello, Captain Sparrow."
Jack straightened up. "Salutations, Thatchers," he said lightly. He was not aware of Gabriel's and Camille's previous relationship.
Gretchen's face was white, and she looked about to faint. She stared at the captain with eyes wide, shaking. She tried to utter something, but nothing would come out of her mouth. She just looked helplessly from him to Gabriel.
Jack looked at her. "What, are you surprised to see me?" he asked in an indignant tone.
Gretchen looked shocked and horrified. Then she turned to Gabriel. "You told me he wouldn't be here!" she accused.
"I didn't know he was going to be with Camille!" Gabriel protested. "He did save us, you know."
"That doesn't matter, he's a bloody pirate!" Gretchen said, speaking about Jack as if he was not present. "I refuse to stay here and associate with him!"
"Well then, where do you plan on staying?" Camille asked plainly.
"At an inn!" she said, not calming down.
"And who's going to carry your luggage? Gretchen, please be reasonable," Gabriel said, making his way over to one of the biggest suitcases and lifting it up without much difficulty at all. "Where shall I put our luggage, Miss Camille?"
"Follow me, I will show you all to your rooms," Camille said, gathering up her skirts and moving up the stairs. Camille made sure that Gretchen got the biggest guest room, although she had originally intended it to be for Gabriel. Priscilla was perfectly content with hers.
Camille and Jack were hauling Gretchen's luggage up the stairs when Will came home. Jack looked very relieved to see him, and Camille waved to him, descending the staircase to get the last couple of bags. "We have guests, Will," Camille chattered excitedly. "They arrived just a short while ago."
Will nodded. "I see. Here, let me get those. You look a bit flustered."
"Oh," she said, out of breath. "Thank you." She made a mental note to take off her corset as soon as possible. She loathed the restricted breathing. "I'll go and start dinner. Gretchen, would you like to help me in the kitchen, dear?" she called, knowing full well what the answer would be.