Thanks so much to those of you who are reading!
Disclaimer: I don't own Pirates of the Caribbean
Ribbons, lace, flowers, and satin hung from Elizabeth's hands, crafted together into one of the most stunning dresses she had ever seen. "It's beautiful," she murmured breathlessly.
"Isn't it?" Governor Swann replied with boyish delight.
She glanced at the rose corset in the dress box, then her dark eyes lifted warily. "May I inquire as to the occasion?"
"Does a father need an occasion to dote upon his daughter?" He quirked a brow, then chuckled as she whirled away with a brilliant smile. "Go on," he prompted the maids, who both followed Elizabeth behind the privacy screen.
He breathed the flower-scented air deeply and clasped his hands behind his back. "Actually…" He glanced at his shoes, "I was hoping you'd wear it to the ceremony today."
Behind the screen, the maids kept their eyes down but their mouths twitched. Elizabeth's brows rose in feigned confusion. "Ceremony?" She hurled her nightgown so it lay over the top of the screen.
"Captain Norrington's promotion ceremony."
Elizabeth bit back a sharp sigh and poked her head out. "I knew it."
He fidgeted under her accusing eyes. "Commodore Norrington, as he's about to become…"
But she had already disappeared behind the screen again, leaving her exasperation floating on the benign air.
The gates of the governor's mansion were shut.
Flourishing plants poured down alongside twelve-foot towers of white stone that held up the wrought iron portals. Despite his anxiety Will felt a flash of admiration for the hinges, which looked brand new.
The sound of shoes on gravel brought his attention forward. The gatekeeper was approaching down the curving, flora-lined drive, dwarfed from behind by the three-story mansion that reared gloriously into the sunrise. "How can I help you?" the man asked, stopping two feet from the gates. "What is your business?"
Will refused to be cowed by the man's uniform, which was finer than anything he had ever owned. "My name is William Turner," he said. "I work at Mr. Brown's smithy and I am here to deliver the sword commissioned by the Governor."
"Ah yes." The man came forward, producing a key. He unlocked the gates and pulled one in. "You're expected, Mr. Turner."
Will stepped onto the serene drive and was motioned forward, so he walked on alone, glancing up every so often at the mansion's gleaming windows. They were made blank by the curtains coating their insides…except for one. The double doors of this one were flung wide, rippling curtains framed them.
With great effort, Will forced himself to not look up again. Blade-like leaves rustled gently as he climbed steps to the house's large door. He breathed deeply, flexed his hand once, and then reached for the blinding doorknocker.
"Steady now, miss," Estrella whispered over Elizabeth's shoulder. She then took hold of her mistress's new corset laces with the air of a trainer about to confront an untamed horse. Ann seized front of the corset at the waist. Then Estrella gave a powerful tug. Air flew from Elizabeth's lungs.
Her father was still pondering the glorious Norrington. "A fine gentleman, don't you think?" he said.
The sharp retort about that opinion having been inarguably established the night before fell flat on her tongue as her ribs seemed to grate against one another. Her mouth opened and closed, her brow wrinkling upward.
"He fancies you, you know," Swann added.
Silence.
"Elizabeth?" Governor Swann hesitantly moved toward the screen. "How's it coming?"
"It's hard to say," she managed shortly, eyes flashing as she worked to stay on her feet.
"I'm told it's the latest fashion in London."
"Well, women in London must've learned not to breathe!" Elizabeth's voice jerked as Estrella yanked fiercely.
The bedroom door was opened by a white-wigged butler who inclined his kindly face respectfully. "My lord, you have a visitor."
Will uncomfortably smelled the absence of hot metal, donkey, rum, sweat, straw, dust, poultry, and butcher shop. It was so clean. In fact, the foyer of the Governor's mansion hadn't changed since he'd been a boy.
Back then, he'd been headed for a new life. Mr. Brown had been at his side. A wiry blacksmith with a ready laugh and the smell of the streets on his shirt, Mr. Brown was going to take Will home and teach him a trade. This was good; Will would learn to make his way and resume searching for his father.
For as long as he could remember, Will's mother had always described his father as a handsome man who was good. Honest. Strong. Will had never seen the man but trying to be like him had somehow felt like touching him. Will was confident that his father would be proud of what a good young man he had become.
He examined his dusty shoes, clicking them together. Carefully, so as not to break the reverent silence, he polished one shoe on his calf. This did nothing but reveal a pile of dirt that now marred the otherwise spotless marble. He winced.
Standing immobile, he let his mind wander off to the way Miss Swann looked the last time he had seen her, a week before at the opening of an orphanage. She had been so far away and so lofty, like the angel he had thought she was. It had always been that way, and perhaps it was best.
He turned, searching for distraction, and his eyes caught upon branched candle fixture on the wall behind. Its cool gold tint drew him to it like a moth. He strained up to examine the handiwork, grasping one of the candle-bearing branches in one hand.
He noted the pathetic melding job...just before it proved how inadequate it was.
Glangg–Will realized he was lowering the now-disconnected branch in an icy hand as the stomach-punching snap echoed
And echoed
And echoed
Terribly through the hall, the entire hushed house. There was no language; oral or physical, which could express Will's profoundly horrified disbelief.
And then Providence completely abandoned him: the measured thud-thud-thud of footsteps sounded from the doorway on his left. A white blaze of stress engulfed his brain and he scrambled to hide the branch on his person.
He could not.
Barely able to hear the footsteps over his own heartbeat, he cast about and at the last instant dropped the branch into the urn behind him. He flinched at the hateful clang the branch gave when it hit the urn's base.
A white-wigged man stalked into the hall, a tray balanced upon a pompous hand. Will steadied himself, cleared his throat, and nodded politely, but received a turned up nose in response.
"Ah, Mr. Turner, nice to see you again!"
Will looked up to see Governor Swann descending the stairs in stately glory, followed by the friendly butler who had answered the door.
"Good day, sir." Reassured by the Governor's kind smile, Will strode forward and set his case on a polished table. "I have your order."
Raw nerves were numbed by the wave of excited pride that rose in him as he opened the presentation case, which creaked wonderfully as it revealed a sheathed dress sword that glittered and gleamed. He plucked the weapon out of its nest and presented it to the Governor, who slowly drew out inch after inch of liquid metal shine.
Will watched ardently, shoulders back, chin up. "The blade is folded steel. That's gold filigree laid into the handle." The Governor lifted the sword to examine the handle. Will bowed respectfully, hands outstretched. "If I may?"
The older man set the sword into Will's tan, callused hands and Will straightened, holding the masterpiece that had devoured his life for days. He balanced it on his fingertip, right where the blade met the guard. "Perfectly balanced. The tang is nearly the full width of the blade."
He deftly flipped the sword up, caught it by the blade and, clearing his throat uneasily, extended it handle-first toward the Governor.
"Impressive, very impressive." Somewhat flustered, the prim older man took the sword, glanced at it once more, and then sheathed it. "Commodore Norrington is going to be very pleased with this." He quickly handed it to Will, who smiled widely as he replaced the sword in its case.
"Oh," the Governor said, "please pass my regards on to your master."
Will's fingertips stumbled against the latches of the case. "I shall." He forced his fingers snap the latches carefully shut; forced himself to smile politely. "A craftsman is always pleased to know his work is appreciated."
He was thinking of how he could make the quickest exit when Swann looked to the top of the stairs. Will's gaze followed the Governor's.
His hands slid from the case to hang uselessly at his sides.
Governor Swann smiled. "Elizabeth! You look absolutely stunning."
One pale hand grasping the dark railing, her neck gracefully bent, she was focused on carefully descending, but paused at her father's voice. Her head came up and she smiled. "Will!" Her hand strayed to a gold chain that vanished under her bodice. "So good to see you!"
'Stunning' was definitely not the word to describe her. Was there a single word in the world up to the challenge? No. Every step she took, nearer, nearer, sent a wave of white-hot awareness over Will's brain; he couldn't even breathe. This was not like seeing her from afar, not at all.
She rustled up beside her father, not three feet away, and then he could faintly smell her sweet perfume. He had not been this close to her in years and to say that he felt grimy and smelly would not have done his embarrassment justice.
"I had a dream about you last night," she told him brightly.
There were delicate curls framing her smooth cheeks … she could not have said anything more mortifying yet pleasing! He stammered, "A dream, about me?"
Governor Swann was experiencing the deeply upsetting sensation of invisibility. "Elizabeth, is it entirely proper for you to be–"
"About the day we met," she interrupted, "don't you remember?"
The perfume was thicker now. "How could I forget, Miss Swann?"
Her long-lashed eyes brimmed with warmth. "Well, how many times must I ask you to call me Elizabeth?"
If eyes were swords, Will would have been lying in ribbons on the floor. Governor Swann's eyes were doing a passable job anyway: Will's tongue was shriveling in his mouth. "At least once more, Miss Swann." He tried to smile. "As always."
Her melted brown eyes froze and her glow, which had been so overwhelming, retracted with a snap. As she faded back, her father testily took control. "There, you see? At least the boy has a sense of propriety. Now." He reached past Will and picked up the sword case. "We really must be going." He passed the case to a servant, then marched out the front door. "Come along."
Elizabeth's chin was rising. Her eyes narrowed as she looked down her nose, suddenly as untouchable as an empress. Her icily disappointed "Good day, Mr. Turner" sent Will's heart slamming wretchedly into his heels, but the whorls of perfume that her brisk exit spun about him drew him after her like a thrall.
"Good day-" Following her outside, he almost tread on the heels of her last servant, but he stopped in his tracks when he saw a carriage door closing her elaborate skirt out of sight. The house door thudded shut at his back.
Her name swelled on his tongue, heavy as honey and just as amber, just as sweet.
"Elizabeth," he whispered, tipping the name into the air where it twisted away with the last ripples of her perfume, flying away on the morning breeze. Utterly empty, he slowly descended the stairs and watched her carriage clatter past the finely hinged gates and out of sight.