Disclaimer- I do not own any of the Pirates of the Caribbean characters I refer to in this story. If I did, I would be rich. I do own Charlotte, Abigail, Sarah, and anyone else whom you don't recognize.
Author's Note- Thanks to all whom reviewed (good and bad). To those who are reading along, thanks, but please drop me a note to let me know how I'm doing. I'm not going to be around next week and thought I'd give those who are reading the next chapter.
TeenTitanTerraLover- Thank you for reviewing. blushes I didn't realize I had so many mistakes. Glad you liked the parts you did.
CrimsonCrome- Well, I'm sorry you feel that way. Just kidding! I'm still considering putting Ben in later. For now, he's a one-show guy. I'm open to your thoughts. As for the whole Elizabeth thing, I thank you for not flaming me to death. Thanks for the review.
brunette-barbie14- Thank you for dropping a note. Here's your faster update. Yes, I'm glad I killed her off too, lol. You're right, I haven't seen too many WillOC stories out there and I think it's a bit of a shame. Oh well, more Orlando for people like us.
ugly duckling- Thank you for taking the time to review. Thank you also for the compliment on my description. Yes, I agree, it is pretty random right now; but then again, we're still in the beginning stages.
williz- I must respect you for leaving a review even though you clearly didn't like what happened. However, a little more than "no" would have been a tad more helpful.
Araminta Ditch- Like the reviewer above, I thank you for reviewing for the same reason.
latebloomer- Thanks for reviewing even though you as well didn't like the chapter. Just out of idle curiosity, are you and the previous two reviewers together on this or the same person under different names? Even if I am incorrect, I found the "no", "double no", and "triple no" all consecutively in a row faintly amusing.
jazz.angel.aure.equalsfoamcore- Thank you for reviewing. I'm glad you find this interesting. Here's your update.
On With the Story,
Abigail sleepily opened one eye as the carriage hit a bump in the road. Another jolt soon had her sitting straight and, though blinking the traces of rest from her eyes, awake.
How long have we been travelling? She wondered idly, pulling back one of the red, velvet curtains that covered the wagon's windows.
Outside, rows of houses and shops lined the cobblestone streets. People milled about, going about their own business. The small town looked happy enough, but black, ominous rain clouds ruined the otherwise serene atmosphere.
Looks like rain. Abby thought, her brain finally coming fully out of its sleep mode.
She glanced around the gloomy interior of the carriage.
Beside the Irish woman sat Sarah, who was currently dozing against the window. Across from her was where one of Charlotte's other personal maids had taken up temporary residence. The space that wasn't taken by the three servants was used for some of the baggage that wouldn't fit on the back of the travelling wagon.
Even though it was only half past eight in the morning, it had been a busy day for all whom resided and worked in the Andrews' manor.
Everyone had needed to be up before the crack of dawn. Last minute items were packed, tearful good-byes were said, and everything was checked and double-checked to be sure no mistakes were made. By five o'clock, the family and employees were well on their way.
Abigail shifted uncomfortably and accidentally bumped her British friend.
Sarah opened one eye and regarded Abby drearily.
"Where…?" she began to ask.
The Irish maid shrugged.
"Don't know. Some small town. We've been journeying for a little over three hours so I'd say we're almost there."
Sarah said nothing and leaned back against the hard, wooden seat she was sitting on.
When they had first started out, she had thought this to be somewhat invigorating and fun, an adventure. But after three hours of being bumped and jostled around, she was beginning to think otherwise.
The British woman glanced down at her small, brown, leather bag. It had very few things in it and was currently lost among all the other trunks taking up the carriage's inside space.
For some odd reason, she felt mournful. It was true that she had always wanted something more than what she already had, but the realization of leaving everything familiar to her suddenly put a damper on things. Even more sorrowful was the fact that somewhere in her heart, she knew she would never see her sister again.
Something bumping against her leg made Sarah start, bringing her out of her thoughts. After a few seconds of thinking, she remembered the sword.
In order to keep the blade concealed, she had attached to her waist, under her skirt. The scabbard continuously rubbing against her leg was uncomfortable and she knew she probably had a fantastic bruise forming, but it gave her a sense of security.
Abigail was nearly thrown out of her seat as the wagon's wheels went over a ridge in the road.
This was turning out to be a long trip.
xxxxx
Charlotte sat straight and tall in her cushioned seat.
With the idea of pleasing her parents, she had endured the ride in silence. However, the effects of the lengthy journey were beginning to wear on her. Her bum was getting quite sore from bumping up and down. The air inside the closed space was stifling hot and difficult to breathe and her layers of undergarments and yellow silk dress did nothing to keep her cool.
She so longed to open the window, just to get a bit of fresh air. She was certain her mother and father, who were sitting across from her, wouldn't mind.
With as much grace and elegance as someone who had been sitting in a carriage for three hours could manage, Charlotte leaned to one side and slid the pane of glass open.
The cool air was a refreshing treat for the rich, young woman. She closed her eyes and allowed the breeze to tickle her face and skin.
xxxxx
A good two hours later, the carriages holding the Andrews family, their belongings, and chosen employees stopped abruptly.
Being closest to the door and eager to get out, Sarah stepped out first.
A quick scan of the surrounding area told her where they were. Open water, wooden docks, cobblestone streets, crates of cargo, and the occasional drunken sailor identified the place as London's main wharf.
Sarah brushed some of the wrinkles from her dusty red skirt and took a step forward.
"Stinks a bit," Abigail commented, stepping up beside her friend.
Sarah nodded thoughtfully. Her Irish companion was correct; it did smell very unpleasant. There wasn't much that could be said in response to the observation.
From the second carriage stepped Charlotte.
She looked much like anyone else who had traveled a long distance without moving. Her dress had creases and wrinkles and her naturally curly hair was becoming slightly frizzled from the humidity in the carriage.
The twenty-year-old wrinkled her nose and pulled out a white handkerchief lined with lace. Pressing the cloth to her nose, she proceeded to walk forward, in front of her parents.
xxxxx
Abigail smiled as the chilly, salty, sea breeze swept her hair back.
She loved being on the water. As a young child, she had been captured from her home country by pirates and forced to work on the ship. She'd escaped after several months and had managed to catch a ride with numerous traders and merchants to get back. Though she had no idea how to sail the large boat, being at sea reminded her of her family and everything she'd had as a child.
The Interloper had cast off a half and hour ago. It had been a hectic thirty minutes with trying to get everyone on board and loading the many trunks and bags into the cargo hold. The crew had rushed around to tend to their passengers and check to see if they had enough supplies. A complaint from Mrs. Andrews about the conditions in which the family would be living in for the next couple of weeks was also thrown in for good measure.
Abby was relieved that, despite the chaos, England was now shrinking on the horizon. They were finally under way and headed for their new home.
Yet, for some reason, the black clouds slowly covering the sky screamed trouble.
xxxxx
Will had gone through the last week in a daze.
A couple days after his beloved had died, a funeral had been held. It was the beautiful ceremony that the young woman had deserved. Many mourners had come to pay their respects to his loved one's father and him. He had left early, unable to take the sympathetic apologies and the grief inside. Every day since, the blacksmith had taken time out of his busy schedule to visit his fiancée's grave.
Repairs to the blacksmith shop had also been made in the seven-day time period.
Even now, he was absently banging one of his prized swords into shape, only half aware of the malleable metal.
A knock on the door brought Will temporarily out of his stupor.
He stopped his work and left to answer the door. It was probably another customer, wanting to burden him with another order for some metal object.
The rough wooden door opened before the young man even touched the handle and someone flounced in.
Dark brown dreadlocks, chocolate brown eyes, tan skin, and a slightly drunken swagger made it all too clear who the visitor was; Jack Sparrow.
Sparrow didn't even seem notice the black smith at first. He walked around the shop, eyeing interesting objects and seeing what had changed since he had wandered in before.
His eyes widened in interest as he spotted five rum bottles on the shop's table.
Will had been drinking heavier than he usually did since the tragedy that had struck a week previous. He knew some of the bottles were empty and a few were half full.
Jack instantly reached for one of the ones that still contained some liquid and tipped it up, drinking the bottle's contents.
"Jack Sparrow," Will said, his voice monotonous as an effect of his depression.
"It's Captain. Captain Jack Sparrow."
The pirate Captain looked around.
"Where's Elizabeth?"
Will felt a fresh stab of pain in his heart at the mention of his true love.
"Why are you here, Jack?"
If Sparrow noticed the young blacksmith's avoidance of his question, he chose not to say anything.
"This."
With those words, Jack pulled a yellowed, torn piece of cloth from his pocket and tossed it on the table.
Author's Note- umm…ok, I hope that didn't bore you to death. I'd really like to know your thoughts, questions, and/or suggestions. See you in a week!