Elizabeth lay on her side in the big bed and stared at the French doors across the room. She could just barely make out the faintest hint of daylight peeking in around the edges of the heavy draperies. It was much earlier than she normally awakened—she had managed to develop the reputation for being a tad difficult to wake up in the morning. She honestly didn't care what other people thought of her habit—it was something she did intentionally. For, in those last few minutes before she was entirely conscious, if the conditions were exactly right, she was occasionally able to sense her husband. Sometimes she could just see him, other times she could only hear him, but there were also rare instances when she was able to manage a small degree of physical contact with him. Considering she had once believed she would not even be able to see him for ten years, those brief moments were sacred to her. It didn't matter if it was just long enough for a hug, a quick kiss or just a casual brush of their fingertips – she would fight for every chance she got.
Mrs. Turner knew she must have dozed off at some point during the night, but she certainly didn't feel like she had. She had tossed and turned the entire night wishing for time to speed up, but had only succeeded in making it feel like it had slowed down. Today was the day. It had long felt like it would never arrive—but it had. She had never doubted it would; rather, the closer it got, the more impatient she became. She had no real way of knowing, but she somehow could understand in her heart that Will was just as impatient. It wouldn't be too many more hours. This time, without threat of separation, the EITC, Beckett, arrest warrants, pirates, curses and who knows what else, they could be together again – forever.
Elizabeth reached out and lightly brushed her left hand across the undisturbed pillow and sheets on the opposite side of the bed, and wondered what the various housekeepers and maids, employed over the years, thought of her habit of keeping to one side. It certainly made the bed easier to make up every morning, and it wasn't as if her husband was going to unexpectedly make an appearance in the middle of the night (at least, not here.) It was a comfort to her to leave a place for him. Just knowing that the empty space rightfully belonged to Will created a sense of safety and security and that one day –this day he would return to it as if he had never been away. It also made it easier for her to imagine that he was there with her – but that was no one's business but her own.
For ten years she had both gone to bed and awakened alone. But, thankfully, that was about to end. Tomorrow morning when she awoke, Will would be there, lying next to her as he should have been now. For the rest of her life he would be the last person she saw at night, the first person she saw in the morning, just as it should always have been. She had waited ten years for that privilege, only to have it taken away from her on her wedding day. Elizabeth had known for the last decade what she would have to do to ensure that Will would be able to return to her - and had freely and willingly done so. Nothing would keep her from completing her task now.
She pulled herself up to a seated position in the bed, drew her legs up close, and wrapped her arms around them. Resting her chin on her knees, staring at the armoire across from the bed without really seeing it, she began to contemplate everything she wanted to accomplish before sunset – a sunset she had been preparing for since the second Will left. Not a day had gone by that she hadn't thought about how she wanted to spend his first day back, but she had never spent much time thinking about what she would do while waiting for those last few hours to slowly and painfully creep by. Surely there had to be something that would distract her… But nothing was coming to mind.
She was relieved that she had not yet told her son, William, what was going to happen today. If Elizabeth could not contain her own excitement, enthusiasm, and impatience then how could she be expected to deal with that of a nine-year-old boy too? Especially one who had not interacted with his father in person since he was an infant? For all intents and purposes, the two were total strangers to one another. However, she felt certain that particular problem could be quickly and easily resolved.
Then, of course, there was the fact that she, William and the his father were going to have to learn what it was like to live together as one family. In all actuality, despite ten years of marriage, the two of them had never actually lived together as husband and wife. The rare occasions when they managed to spend some time together had never been more than a few minutes, never with any advance warning. The only option they had was to adapt to their unfortunate circumstances—and so they had. Losing hope was never an option. Hadn't Will said that no cause was lost as long as there was one fool left to fight for it? People could call her a fool all they wanted, but Will was well worth any fight.
Actually, and to be honest, the two of them were probably more familiar with each other's quirks and habits than most couples, having known each other since they were children. They had long been each other's best friends. But knowing someone and sharing a living space with them was not always one and the same thing. Even during their months living aboard the Pearl and various other ships, Elizabeth had been afforded what little privacy there was available. Will had taken up residence with the rest of the crew, being, as always, his sense of propriety and concern for Elizabeth's reputation directed his choices. Had Elizabeth been able to influence Will's choices in that regard, she would have long since welcomed him to her bed. But, then again, they had not been speaking during most of that time.
It was a time in their relationship that she would rather not think about.
Her eyelids slowly drifted closed as she thought of the time she and Will had spent together, before Beckett came into their lives. The faster their wedding day approached, the more diligently Elizabeth had tried to, somewhat naively and quite unsuccessfully, seduce her then-fiancée. Will had sworn he would not take any license with her reputation before they were properly married. If nothing else, he was a man of his word. She could still hear Will's slightly husky voice whispering in her ear. "This is not the right time. This is not the right place. Our first time together will be in a proper bed, with fresh linens and perhaps candles even, but only after we are properly married. I won't have you in some secluded spot hoping we don't get caught." He had always ended his declaration with the claim that Elizabeth's father would kill him if Will had crossed that arbitrary line. While Will's acceptance in Elizabeth's circle in her father's view was tenuous at best, she had always known Will was halfway teasing her. She was the first to admit that she had been a spoiled child. Her father had granted her every thing she ever wanted – and what she wanted most was Will.
But that didn't mean it would have surprised her if her father had insisted on moving up the wedding date if he suspected Will and Elizabeth had anticipated the actual ceremony a bit. Most especially, if he had ever suspected they had done anything that might even remotely be misconstrued as improper without benefit of clergy. Heaven knows they had been forced to sit through far too many sermons extolling the virtue of patience. Elizabeth rolled her eyes at that memory. She and Will had known full well that those particular homilies had been directed towards them. While the lessons had obviously not been lost on Will, they had grated on her nerves. She frequently felt that every citizen of Port Royal had been made privy to her father's fear for her virginity. Elizabeth was well aware of her own lack of patience when there was something she wanted – and she wanted to be married. Perhaps on some level her plan always had been to hurry things along.
All these years later, she could recognize that Will had made the right decision for them both. How could they have known that their lives were about to be torn apart at nearly the precise moment they should have been pronounced man and wife? After that, things had gone from bad, to worse, to near incomprehensible horror... She often wondered how their lives would have turned out had she and Will married before Beckett's untimely arrival. Would things have been different? Or would we have still gone through the same trauma we had been forced to endure? Would it have still been necessary for us to reaffirm our choices to be together? Or would the knowledge that we were already legally bound to each other have compelled us to remain together more out of obligation than commitment?
She pushed the unpleasant thoughts from her mind. Now was not the time to think about that. Besides, it was consummately pointless—especially today. They had been unerringly devoted to one for nearly half their lives by that point. It didn't matter that they had only been aware and secure in that devotion for one short year. Elizabeth was adamant in her belief that, although the path may have taken a different turn, they would have ended up together. Now wasn't a time to worry - it was time to rejoice in their chance for a new beginning.
Elizabeth smiled to herself as she thought of how she planned on spending this particular night. Who else had the opportunity to celebrate their wedding night a second time—a decade after the first one, no less? Honestly, she was a bit nervous: her first had been so long. But this time, Elizabeth could make sure everything was as Will had wanted it to be—what he thought she had deserved to have. The truth was that spending a honeymoon on a moonlit beach on an apparently deserted island might sound terribly romantic, but the reality of it was that sand didn't make for a very comfortable bed. Not to mention that it has an annoying tendency to find its way into the most unlikely places.
The rudimentary plans for her day were just starting to form in Elizabeth's mind, when she heard a soft click. She reopened her eyes, raised her head, and looked to find the bedroom door easing open. A petite, olive skinned girl with glossy black hair cascading down her back stepped into the room, carrying towels and a pitcher of water for the wash basin. Eyes the color of midnight briefly reflected their surprise at finding the mistress of the house awake at this hour.
"Good morning, ma'am," the girl said shyly. Her slight accent brought to mind the scent of orange blossoms, images of windmills, and the sound of guitars from her native Spain – or at least the part of it Elizabeth had seen. "I trust you slept well?"
"Good morning, Mercedes. I suppose I slept as well as could be expected." She rested her chin back on her knees.
"There's nothing amiss, is there?" The girl truly sounded concerned. Had it not been for Mrs. Turner, who knows where she would be now?
"No," Elizabeth replied, perhaps a bit too brusquely. She immediately regretted it. Mercedes was a tender-natured girl, and tended to take things personally. "No," she repeated in a much softer voice. "I'm just a bit distracted this morning is all. I have several things to take care of today, and I can't seem to remember what all of them are."
"I have days like that. I think most of my days are like that. Evan has to remind me sometimes what I need to do," she agreed in her usual cheerful tone. She obviously had not been bothered by Elizabeth's initial curt reply. Mercedes turned from Elizabeth and began taking care of her task, filling the wash basin while Elizabeth thought of Evan.
He would know what today was. He had been there the morning after Will left, and every day since. He had arrived with Captain Teague and others when they had come to take her back to Shipwreck Cove. No one knew for sure how old Evan was at the time—all they knew was that he was the sole survivor of an attack by the Flying Dutchman. But he couldn't have been much older than her son was now. They had somehow agreed upon eleven–Elizabeth supposed that would be an appropriate age for an apparent-orphan to sign on as a powder monkey aboard a pirate ship, especially one as small and agile as Evan Ross.
It wasn't as if she hadn't encountered much the same thing before. Because of that similarity to Will's own situation as a child, Elizabeth had felt sorry for the boy: she had taken a liking to him and had taken him under her wing. He had been her near-constant shadow ever since, almost like a little brother she had never had. Some days, it was hard to imagine that the uneducated urchin who had been constantly underfoot, was now the quite competent and polished twenty-one-year old man who worked for her now. It was almost uncanny at how closely Evan's upbringing had paralled Will's. He had known from the start the truth behind Will's absence, and had never once uttered a single word about it. Someone that young, with such a well-developed sense of loyalty, was a rare commodity. Evan's finer qualities and abilities were not underestimated by the members of the Turner household… by Mercedes in particular.
"Is William awake yet? He has lessons with Mr. Tolliver this morning," Elizabeth inquired.
"No, ma'am. Not that I know. I'll go wake him up, if you like."
Elizabeth sat on the edge of the bed and stared out the open door into the hallway as she considered her options for a moment. Mercedes was the one who normally tapped on William's door every morning to wake him up, but today was a special occasion. She was suddenly overcome by an urgent need to be with her son – asleep or not. "Actually, I think I'll do that myself," she said as she slid out of the bed and pulled on her wrap over her night dress. "I have a surprise for him today, and I want to make sure he knows not to go off on one of his little excursions this afternoon." She rolled her eyes at the thought of the numerous reasons he always gave for needing to go off on one adventure or another. She might have to take the blame for that particular aspect of his personality, but it wasn't as if his own father were entirely innocent in the matter either.
Mercedes' eyes twinkled as she laughed at Elizabeth's statement. "He is getting harder and harder to find these days, isn't he?"
Elizabeth began to laugh too. "That would be putting it mildly. I can only imagine what might happen if he truly decides he doesn't want to be found. I just hope today isn't that day. He might find himself left at home, because I certainly can't be late today." Elizabeth experienced an uncharacteristic rush of giddiness at the realization that her and Will's seemingly unending series of ordeals would finally be over. In just a few hours they would be together and she would let nothing get in the way of that – not even her own child.
"Late? Have I forgotten another engagement?" Mercedes looked puzzled and slightly panicked. There was nothing she hated more than forgetting to make the proper arrangements and preparations for Mrs. Turner's schedule. She knew that Elizabeth wouldn't turn her out in the streets, she had all but adopted her, but still she knew how much her mistress valued efficiency – or rather, how impatient she could be.
"Oh no, I'm sorry. I didn't mean to worry you. No, it's a simple family matter. William and I can take care of everything by ourselves." Elizabeth headed out the door of the bedroom into the hallway. She stopped just across the threshold and turned back to Mercedes. "I know it's not part of the household schedule for today, but could you change my bed linens, please?" Elizabeth took two more steps before once again stopping to speak to the girl. "Why don't you take an extra day off tomorrow? You've certainly earned it—surely you have some friends you would like to visit?" Elizabeth then turned and continued down the hall to her son's room.
Mercedes nodded in confused acknowledgement. "Yes, ma'am. Thank you, ma'am."
Now she was perplexed. First, she found Mrs. Turner awake and alert at the break of dawn, and then there was yet another of a seemingly unending list of strange requests she had been making more and more often in the past few weeks. Add to that the fact that, while Mrs. Turner was a most gracious employer, it was not in her nature to just randomly give people a day off in the middle of the week. There was something most curious going on, and Mercedes was dying to know what it was. Perhaps Evan would know? She too left the room, closed the door behind her, went off to address her next chore and, hopefully, to find some answers.
It would certainly be easier if she knew the right questions, but those, too, were a mystery.
Elizabeth gently opened the door to her son's room, hoping to avoid its inevitable squeak. It was still a bit early to wake him up—that gave her the perfect opportunity to just sit beside and watch him sleep, something she had done with unfaltering regularity since his birth. Elizabeth sat on the bed, next to her son, taking care to not disturb him. He was curled up in his customary position with one arm under his head and the other across his chest. Elizabeth reached out and gently stroked his hair, marveling yet again at how it was the exact same color as his father's although nowhere near as curly. William's long, dark eyelashes fluttered briefly, those too a gift from his father, but he did not wake up. She knew that when he did awaken, she would see a pair of chocolate brown eyes matching the pair she had gazed into so many times before and soon would again. She wondered if Will would be able to see how much his only child resembled him. She smiled as she remembered that she would have the answer to that question before the day was out.
She looked around the room. To anyone else it would seem to be filled with the detritus standard to any nine-year-old boy's room. Upon closer inspection, it would appear quite different. The tiny tin figurines were not the soldiers one might expect, but incredibly detailed miniature pirates, buccaneers and other rapscallions. Elizabeth knew, if she looked at them closely, she would be able to pick out ones she knew. The ones that William also knew were ensconced on a low shelf, over his desk, next to a near perfect replica of his father's ship. This was obviously a location that he considered a place of honor – Mercedes wasn't even allowed to dust up there. William took care of that himself. On the floor, undeniably locked in battle, were two replicas of the Black Pearl, one large, one small. Will's ship, along with the smaller of the two Pearls had been gifts from Jack Sparrow. William had proven beyond a shadow of a doubt that he had inherited his father's sense of diplomacy when Jack had presented them to him. He had never once mentioned, or even hinted at, the fact that he already had a much larger and much more detailed model of the Pearl - one that had been a gift from curmudgeonly Captain Barbossa.
Elizabeth looked back at her still-sleeping son. It was taking all she had to not wake him up and tell him what the day had in store, but she knew it would be less stressful on everyone if she held her tongue for now. She leaned down and gently kissed his cheek. "It's time to wake up," she whispered.
William mumbled in his sleep while curling himself up tighter. His face was now completely buried in his pillow.
Elizabeth knew he was at least partially awake, but as usual, he was trying to sneak in a few more minutes. In that respect he took after his mother. She had sometimes wondered if he too could sense his father in the fading twilight of sleep. Sometimes he did say things that made her believe he could, but for some reason she thought it best not to question him about it.
"William, I said it's time to wake up," she whispered again. But this time, she added to her arsenal by tickling him on his side just above his waist – a place she knew would also get a reaction out of his father. She knew she had achieved her desired goal by the bell-like sound of childish laughter now emanating from the vicinity of the pillow.
"Mother! Don't do that!" William flipped over and pulled the covers over his head.
"Then wake up when I tell you."
"But it's too early to get up," he whined playfully – his muffled voice coming from beneath the quilt.
"I'm up, so you can get up as well. Besides, I need to talk to you before your tutor comes. I have a surprise for you today."
"What is it?" Will asked anxiously as he popped up in the bed.
"If I told you, then it wouldn't be a surprise now would it?"
"Then why did you tell me you have a surprise for me if you won't tell me what it is?"
"Because I want nothing more right now than to tell you," she thought. Instead she said, "So that you would hurry up and get out of that bed! Now, get up and get dressed. It's a special day and I have a lot of things to do." With that, she stood up and left the room.
William swung his legs over the edge of the narrow mattress and watched his mother leave. She certainly had been acting a bit unusual lately – or at least unusual for her. No one would ever accuse Elizabeth Turner of being like other mothers. And what kind of a surprise could she possibly have for him that required him to get up this early? The thought crossed his mind to go right back to sleep as he looked at his pillows. The nagging fear that his mother might renege on his surprise was the only thing that prevented him from doing so. He shrugged his small shoulders, stood up and went about the task of washing up and getting ready for the day.
Elizabeth too returned to her room to wash and dress for the day – or at least dress for the first part of her day. For days on end she had examined every dress, skirt and blouse in her armoire, trying to decide what to wear to meet Will. All of her life, special occasions had warranted the addition of a new bit of finery to her wardrobe. Today was unquestionably one of the more special days of her life, but she felt a bit silly having something special made. It wasn't as if she had much need or desire for fancy dresses anymore. Besides, the only days she could think of that could even remotely compare to this one were the day she had married Will and the day their son was born. She hadn't even had a dress for her wedding, nor had she cared at the time.
She exhaled sharply in frustration as she gave up her search, grabbed the nearest serviceable dress at hand and hastily put it on. While hurriedly running a brush through her hair and tying it back with a bit of blue ribbon, she returned to the bedside table and the locked wooden chest that rested on it. As was her custom, she ran her hand softly across its lid and over the elaborate lock. The key that opened that lock was hanging on a plain leather cord around her neck, but she would never have dreamed of using it. Knowing what was inside was simultaneously comforting and horrifying to her. She sighed as she listened for the faint, but strong and steady beat of the heart inside. "It's always belonged to you," he had said to her moments before he left. "Will you keep it safe?"
She had kept her promise, just as Will had kept all of his.