Disclaimer: I don't own POTC. Title is a poem by Pablo Neruda.
Chapter 15: The Dead Woman
Camille tested herself, touching her rib gingerly, then a little rougher. "Well, it doesn't hurt when I touch it. I supposed that's good enough, then?"
Annie eyed her cautiously. "I dunno, Camille. Jack's pretty angry with Master Gabriel and the Thatchers. He's been stormin' through the house like tyrant, still."
"Well," said Camille, putting on her robe. "That's just ridiculous. What happened to me was merely a result of chance, and nothing more. The Thatchers could not possibly be in any way responsible for their father's treatment of me, especially since they were barely present."
She waltzed out of the room with Annie just behind her. The house looked so much more pleasant, and it was very clean. She supposed that Annie and Ana Maria had been cleaning nonstop to either appease or avoid Jack's anger. And knowing the two of them, it was most likely to avoid it. The place was unusually quiet.
Priscilla and Sheila were doing some handiwork, and Cadence was with Ana Maria. But something was missing from the atmosphere of the house. "Where have all of the men gone?" she asked, afraid to know the answer.
"Drinkin'," Ana Maria joked.
"Oh, with Peter they had better not be," Annie said crossly.
"So where is Gretchen?"
Annie rolled her eyes. "The woman's been up in her room all day, pouting about some rash or something on her arm. She's unbearable, that one is," she said, lowering her voice in front of Priscilla. But Priscilla heard Annie perfectly clear, and nodded.
"She's always been like that, you know. Ever since Father died, it's gotten worse. Gabriel says that it's her way of repressing it, pretending that she's still so important to society," Priscilla said.
"Perhaps I'd better see if I can talk to her," Camille excused herself, going back upstairs to the wing Gretchen was staying in. She knocked gently on her door, and a shaky voice answered from within.
"Go away, I wish to see no one."
"Gretchen darling, you can't stay in there forever. What's this about something on your arm?" Camille asked.
"Leave me alone!"
"Nonsense," Camille replied, picking the lock easily and making her way inside. Gretchen was lying on her bed, crying into the pillow.
"Gretchen, what's wrong? You can tell me, come now." Camille sat down at the end of the bed and waited until Gretchen was able to pull herself together. She even had a handkerchief ready so that Gretchen could wipe her eyes.
"I found something…it-it's on my arm, I saw it just last night. But now it's disappeared. I don't know what it is, it looked like a black mark or some sort of skin disease…" Gretchen trailed off and started crying again.
"Gretchen, stop crying," Camille said firmly. "Now take a deep breath, and try to remember exactly when you saw it. What was happening? Were you near the fireplace, or lighting a candle, or something like that?"
"I can't remember. I just noticed it for a second and then it was gone. It was as if my eyes were playing tricks on me."
"All right, then. Gretchen, I need you to remain calm. I'm going to show you something, and you have to trust me."
Gretchen shook her head. "No," she stammered. "No, I don't want to see. It's something to do with that pirate, I know it. I refuse to have anything to do with that, I am in too high a position for this sort of nonsense," she ranted.
"Gretchen, listen to me. You're in the same position that the rest of us are that found that treasure a thirteenmonth ago-"
"Stop it!" Gretchen shrieked, clapping her hands to her ears. "Stop talking about it, I don't want to hear your lies! Get out of my room! Get out!"
Camille stood up, surprised at how much Gretchen was affected by this subject. She left the room immediately, slamming the door right behind her. Obviously convincing Gretchen was going to be a very tireless effort.
"Camille?"
She became alert, and then breathed a sigh of relief. "Yes, Gabriel? I didn't expect that you were here."
"You tried to explain to her, didn't you?"
She nodded. "I think I upset her quite a bit."
Gabriel nodded. "I've tried dozens of times to gently coax her into hearing it. I've also resorted to shouting myself hoarse to her about it. Nothing will work; she is in total denial about the situation."
"But that is most unfortunate for us if she is part of the curse," Camille whispered.
He nodded. "I agree, but I think it may be best if we leave her behind with Priscilla. The solution may be just to keep her away from matters of piracy altogether."
"Do you really believe that will work? Leaving her behind? She would drive everyone mad, Gabriel."
He laughed. "That's the only part that worries me. She's going to have to straighten out her behavior sooner or later."
"Yes, I suppose she is."
"How are you feeling, Camille? You look much better, and the color has returned to your cheeks. You seem to have little difficulty carrying on a conversation," he observed.
"Yes, I'm feeling much better, thank you. I suppose I had best get myself to bed before Jack arrives home, though."
"Perhaps. He is very concerned about you. I don't think he's talked to me since."
Camille sighed. "He can be most childish like that sometimes. He doesn't know when to let go of grudges. I'll work on him. He has absolutely no reason to be cross with you."