Sick

Dancing Day

Tomorrow shall be my dancing day
I would my true love did so chance
To see the legend of my birth
To call my true love to my dance
Sing Oh my love, my love, my love, my love
This have I done for my true love.

James and Elizabeth's father had gone to England on government business and would not return until the spring was well advanced. The big mansion in the hills above Port Royal would be deserted and silent but for a few of the servants. There was no reason for the Black Pearl to return to Jamaica that year, and it did not. They dropped anchor in Tortuga Bay the day before Christmas to allow the crew a few days leave—not the holiday venue Elizabeth would have chosen.

"You're sure you don't want to leave the ship, love?" Jack asked, frowning, sitting down beside her.

"For Heaven's sake, no!" his love replied, wearily. She had taken a chill during a spell of bad weather two weeks before and succumbed to her first head cold in years. Jack had been adamant that she stay abed for several days. It hadn't taken much coercion. Her fever had now subsided, but she still felt weak and stuffy, and out of sorts, too. As much as she loved Jack and her new life in his company, she still missed her Will and never more so than at Christmas. "You'll do far better without me," she told Jack. "Go ashore with the others. I'll be fine here."

Jack looked skeptical, but finally acquiesced. "I'll just go raise a glass or two with the lads, then. Be back this evening, eh?"

She nodded and gave a wan smile, and closed her eyes as he kissed her on the forehead.

o-o-o

Elizabeth napped all afternoon, alone (and lonely) in the Great Cabin, but woke at dusk and determined she would rise and make herself presentable, in case Jack should actually return. This was not a certainty, by any means, but she knew that she'd also feel better – or less listless, at least – for a bathe and some fresh clothing. She got up and called for Jem, the cabin boy, who obligingly fetched hot water from the galley for her. Her subsequent ablutions, along with the effort of dressing, left her exhausted and, when Jack failed to appear, a fog of melancholy descended upon her. She tried to throw it off, but the phrase out of sight, out of mind echoed in her aching head. Telling herself it was merely weariness, she lay down to rest again, but there were tears on her cheeks before she fell asleep once more.

o-o-o

She woke to the sound of singing.

It was black in the cabin – the sun had gone down entirely and she'd failed to light the lamp. So when the door was thrown open she was momentarily startled and dazzled by the lantern Jack was carrying, and by his companions: two young, fresh-faced boys with bright red hair and freckles.

"Deck the halls with boughs of holly, fa la la la la la la la la!" they sang, accompanied by Jack's sea-roughened baritone.

Elizabeth struggled to sit up, amazed, a smile dawning on her lips at this incongruous sight. The three finished out the verse with a flourish, and she managed to gather enough wit to applaud, genuinely delighted.

"Make your bow, lads," Jack commanded, and the boys obeyed, grinning.

"But who are they?" Elizabeth demanded.

"Rob and Timmy Whitby, sons of Martha – Mistress Whitby -- who keeps Whitby House, finest hostelry on Tortuga. Lads, meet Pirate Queen Lizzie – Mrs. Turner to you."

The two began to jabber.

"Are you really a pirate queen?"

"We'd heard you were a lady! The governor's daughter!"

"She's both. Captain Sparrow said so," said the larger lad to the smaller.

Elizabeth laughed. "A pirate queen?" she twitted Jack, as he approached.

"Of course!" He kissed her. "What else should you be?"

"That would make you the pirate king?"

"Precisely." Jack sat down next to her on the bed and took her hand. "It's good you've seen fit to dress. We're bidden by Mistress Whitby to come stay for Christmas. D'you think you're able?"

"To stay? At her house?"

"It's an inn, but aye – she's an old friend and we're invited to join in the family celebration. Thought you might like it – she's these two varmints and a couple of girls as well."

"Is Mister Whitby agreeable?"

"Da passed five year ago," said the younger lad, cheerily. "He was on the Bride of Calais when she went down with all hands."

"How dreadful!" exclaimed Elizabeth, shocked.

"Aye." The elder of the boys doffed his hat.

"No, it ain't!" piped up the little one, eyeing his brother in a surprised way. " 'e were a right bastard, weren't 'e Rob?"

"Shut it!" Rob gave his outspoken brother a swipe with the hat he'd doffed.

"Hey!" Tim put up his chin and his fists straightaway, and the situation would have deteriorated rapidly if Jack hadn't given a sharp call to order.

"What did I tell you two?"

"Sorry, Captain."

"Aye. Sorry."

"Hmmph," said Jack, as though in disgust, but his eyes twinkled. "Well, what do you think, lass? Shall we accept the Whitby hospitality for a night or two? Or have these rufflers put you off?"

"Oh, no!" Little Tim looked dismayed. "You have to come, ma'am. My sisters had to stay and help mum with the baking, but they dearly want to meet you. We've none of us met a queen before."

Elizabeth chuckled, but said, "I am no such thing, however. I could not visit under false pretenses."

"You're not?" Tim frowned.

But Rob said, "That's all right. You look like one, an' that's the most important part."

"Aye!" agreed Tim, brightening. "It is!"

And so it was decided.

o-o-o

If Mr. Whitby had been a less than exemplary husband and father in some ways, he could not be faulted for the estate he had left to his wife and offspring. Whitby House was a beautiful, well-kept inn on the outskirts of town, away from the raucous dockside area. Moreover, it was soon evident that Mrs. Whitby knew just how to celebrate the season.

Elizabeth had not had such a Christmas since she was a little girl in England, where there'd been innumerable cousins and aunts and uncles, a feast (complete with boar's head) in the drafty hall of her uncle's house, carol after carol sung with verve and faith and shining eyes, little ones watching the grown-ups dancing, peeking between the banisters until their nurses came and they were shooed to bed to await Father Christmas, strains of music rising and following to sing them to sleep; and the morning, dawning pale and sweet with gifts for everyone and a grand breakfast.

To be sure, Mistress Whitby took one look at Elizabeth's face and had her enthroned on the sofa by the big fireplace in a trice. "You'll rest tonight, m'girl, an you think of dancing tomorrow."

"I will, then," Elizabeth readily agreed.

The Whitby daughters began to sing, "Tomorrow shall be my dancing day…" and Elizabeth laughed and listened, but refrained from joining in as her usually pretty voice had been badly affected by her cold.

Sing Oh my love, my love, my love, my love
This have I done for my true love.

Later, after a feast that wonderfully demonstrated Mistress Whitby's culinary skill, there was music and dancing. It was of a more homely sort than Elizabeth remembered from the celebrations of her childhood, but pretty to hear and watch nonetheless. The younger children sat with her, bouncing and humming along. Jack did his duty by the other ladies present with a light foot and a humorous air, but it was plain enough to all that it was really Elizabeth with whom he really wished to dance. He kept catching her eye hopefully, but though she applauded his and the others' efforts she was constrained to rest by her vigilant hostess, and was glad of it by the time they were off to bed.

They followed Mistress Whitby's eldest daughter, Sally, up the stairs to the room they'd been allotted. Elizabeth loved it at once. It was sparkling clean and equipped with some surprisingly luxurious furniture, although a homey air had been achieved. There were lace curtains over a wide shuttered window; smooth, white sheets and a bright quilt on the big bed; and a neat, tiled hearth in which a cheerful fire burned.

"Just ring if you've need of anything," Sally advised them, after she'd lit the bedside lamp.

"You're a princess among housemaids, Miss Sally," Jack said, and kissed her hand.

"Oh!" the girl exclaimed, blushing rosily. "You… I… Anything at all! Really!" And she hastily slipped out and closed the door.

Elizabeth shook her head. "You are an incorrigible flirt, Jack Sparrow! She can't be more than fifteen!"

"The darlin' would've been disappointed if I hadn't," he pointed out, with simple confidence in his irresistibility.

Elizabeth had to admit that confidence was justified. Her heart beat a little faster as he came to her and took her hands. That look in his beautiful eyes…

"Feeling better, love?"

"Much." She sighed with contentment as he drew her close. "Thank you for bringing the boys, and arranging this, and… oh, for everything!"

"Thought you'd prefer this to lying abed on the Pearl. Though that's a fine thing, in the ordinary way…"

"No, you were right. I needed a change." Elizabeth smiled in remembrance. "I had such a good time watching you and the others dance."

"Not jealous?" Jack queried, raising a brow and pouting just a little.

She laughed. "Not tonight. But tomorrow I'll be well again – you'll see! And that shall be my dancing day."

o-o-o