Yet another uneventful day passed in the dirty cell.
It wasn't all bad, though, Elizabeth was afforded breakfast and tea in the afternoon, which raised her spirits considerably. She was still sore and tired, but no longer felt the pangs of desperate starvation. The last time her stomached had ached was the night before. Of course she had earned it well enough. Yet food wasn't the least bit entertaining. Instead she took to standing atop of the thin wooden bench, enabling her to peek out of a small barred window, out of which she could see the now darkened harbor, only lit by the rising moon. Almost nothing changed about the scene, especially at night, but the sea air was refreshing.
Elizabeth closed her eyes and sighed.
Soon she would be free. Her persuasion the night before had earned her the pardon. In mere hours she would be dining with Lord Beckett and discussing the matter. There was implications and legalities to consider, as she suspected, and they were too tired to speak of it at the time. It was no time for carnal desires and there was simply no need; she had won. Though she wouldn't be adverse.
A blush crossed her cheeks and she smiled at her own debauchery.
Elizabeth hopped down from the bench and roamed the cell. Private Murtogg was late and she wanted to speak to him; simply now because she felt that she could. He could help pass the final stretch of boredom. 'Should have asked for a book,' she mused to herself. She picked at the dirt under her fingernails, which there was almost none of, as her only amusement was grooming herself.
'Miss Swann,' a snide voice called her attention. It was the man that was with Lord Beckett the day she was arrested, Mister Mercer. Elizabeth deduced from his perennial scowl that he wasn't a pleasant man. 'Lord Beckett would like to inform you that he is quite busy and may not have dinner until a late hour. He wonders if you would like dinner here in your cell before your meeting.'
'I'll wait to eat with his Lordship,' she replied. 'Do you know when I'm welcome to join him?'
'That's not what I was sent to clarify,' Mister Mercer sneered. He turned on his boot and stalked away.
Elizabeth slit her eyes and curled her lip at the underbred man. 'Tell him I require tea to tide me over!'
Mister Mercer swiftly turned to her once more. 'Fucking his lordship doesn't give you precedence over me. You'll have to ask him yourself if you want tea, 'mam,' he sarcastically bowed at the last word.
Notwithstanding Mister Mercers crude remarks, which sent Elizabeth sitting on her bench, face red in embarrassment, she received the tea as requested. An hour went by as she waited to be called upon. There was little entertainment, save for the guards trying to light all of the torches and light fixtures. Once that nightly ordeal was finished she took to watching a snail make it's way slowly across the stone wall.
Footsteps drew her attention away from her newest slimy friend. It was Private Murtogg, and at last her boredom over. Elizabeth smiled, but it was outlived by confusion. He seemed panicked as he reached for his keys and unlocked her cell.
'Come quickly,' it was her father, who appeared behind Private Murtogg.
Elizabeth was confused, but did as told.
The aging man hadn't been so quick as long as Elizabeth could remember. She struggled to keep up with his pace as they passed through corridor after corridor of the prision. He was frantic and shaking.
'You've got to tell me what's happening,' Elizabeth hissed as they rounded yet another corner of the never-ending maze. She was worried now. After all she had done to receive the pardon and her father might be the one to ruin it by staging a prison break.
'I may still have some standing with the King,' he breathed, eyes searching for enemies as they went. 'I've arranged passage to England. The captain is a friend of mine.'
'No!' Elizabeth gasped. She didn't want to tell her father about the pardon for fear of his enquiries as to how she acquired it. 'Will has gone to find Jack,' she argued instead.
'We cannot count on William Turner,' Weatherby grabbed her by the arm, 'Come!'
Elizabeth couldn't go. If she did, surely the pardon would be burnt in the fire and she would never be given a chance to earn it again. Even if she made it to England, she would still be a wanted criminal, only her list of offences would be longer and the punishment more severe. She had to tell her father about the pardon. 'I've spoken to Lord Beckett. He's promised my pardon!'
'Don't be so childish Elizabeth, he wouldn't have given you a pardon unless he could make great gain of it. Batting your pretty eyelashes isn't payment enough,' he patronized, still dragging her through a corridor. The final stretch, an arch that lead to the outside world approached. A carriage waited beyond. 'Beckett has offered one pardon only one, and that is promised to Jack Sparrow, even if Will succeeds.'
The two came to a halt outside. Elizabeth was confused, her heart pounded. 'No father I swear, I am meant to speak to him any moment now and then I shall be free!' Her father wasn't a dim man and he wouldn't speak of a matter which he did not know too much of. She was trying to convince herself that for once he was wrong.
'Beckett will give only one, Elizabeth! I heard him say it myself. How gullible of you, you know not of this man. He is a liar and a scoundrel and has been since I met him twenty years ago!' Weatherby sighed and put his hand on his daughters shoulder. 'Do not ask me to endure the sight of my daughter walking to the gallows. Do not.' He pulled her to the carriage, 'Perhaps I can ensure a fair trial for Will if he returns,' he helped her inside.
Elizabeth scowled at the idea of a fair trial. Will was still her friend despite her regretful feelings towards a marriage with him. He didn't deserve death for something she shared a part in. 'A fair trial for Will ends in a hanging.'
'Then there is nothing left for you here,' he said, sounding the least bit sorry as he shut the carriage door in her face.
The carriage jolted as it sprung into a steady pace, nearly sending Elizabeth crashing into the opposite seat. She sighed and closed her eyes.
It was impossible that her father could have been mistaken. He wouldn't go to such trouble if he wasn't sure of himself. After living with him for just over seventeen years, it was a matter of fact; her father was never wrong. How could she have been so gullible? It was stupid to think that Lord Beckett would be bought for such a low price. She had nothing that he wanted, not truly. Not like Jack, who had the compass, or even Will who could work for the company. Elizabeth felt like an idiot, and worse, she felt hurt. She had played with fire and was now made to be burnt to a crisp. Her mind whirled with thoughts. She was so confused on what to think and what to feel. Really, she had to accept that it was she who had been played as a fool.
So a new plan had to be put in place. No matter where she looked, it seemed death was the punishment, only the wait for it varied. If she went back to England, she was still a criminal, Will would be hung, and who knew what might come of her father. If she stayed in prison, she would be hung shortly after Will's arrival with Jack, if it ever happened. There was only one option left. Lord Beckett had lied to her, but he did have her pardon. No longer was she going to be the damsel in distress; Elizabeth was going to go to Lord Beckett and strike a bargain with him. It was she who was going to get the compass, not William, for her fathers sake, for now he was surely in just as much trouble of she. Not only that, then if Will had to take the commission for the company, she could put an end to their engagement and not feel so terrible.
The carriage came to a sudden halt, jarring her thoughts. Out of the window she saw her father walking towards a man. The captain, waiting to take her back to England.
Elizabeth quietly opened the door of the carriage and slipped into the night.
Elizabeth crept past the sleeping guard, sat in a chair outside of Lord Beckett's office. Just one more step and she was inside. The door was open, leaving her to worry that Lord Beckett was somewhere near.
Creek, went the wooden planks of the deck below her feet. Her heart skipped a beat, but the guard didn't move. With one more silent lunge, she crossed the threshold.
The office was shadowy, only lit by a handful of candles on the desk and the streams of moonlight seeping from the large windows. Elizabeth's dark eyes patrolled the area on high alert for Lord Beckett, but he was no where to be seen. She was safe for now, but needed to hurry. First matter of importance was her pardon. Lord Beckett had made the mistake of showing her where it was the night before. On the desk, in a wooden box, in a leather pouch; she pulled out the documents with nimble fingers. And there it was on top, a pardon with her name scribbled in all the right places. There was one other, a letter of marque, the one promised for Jack. A commission as a privateer; Jack would never take such a deal, but Will would. It was the least she could do. Both missing Lord Beckett's signature and seal. Elizabeth held the leather pouch firmly in hand and searched the rest of the desk. Finally, at the last drawer to search she hit the jackpot. It was the gun that Private Murtogg had given her. She smiled to herself; at last, not so a helpless woman.
Tap tap, tap tap.
Elizabeth froze. It was a sound she was familiar to; the sound of riding boots on wood. Someone was near. Her eyes glanced over at the guard outside, who was still sleeping. The golden glow of a lantern was cast onto him. She raced across the room to one of the many dark corners as silently as she could manage. Her heart beat so furiously that she felt it could have been heard throughout the room. The glow grew brighter and brighter, until Lord Beckett finally turned the corner and entered his office. In one hand he held a lantern and in the other a letter. He was too busy reading it to have noticed the sleeping guard. Elizabeth held her breath as he approached the desk. To her dismay he reached first for the wooden box, no longer containing its most important documents. The leather pouch burned in her hand.
'No doubt you've discovered that loyalty is no longer the currency of the realm, as your father believes,' he articulated, causing her stomach to flip.
This was her chance.
Elizabeth stepped out of the dark corner, her heels on the wood announcing her presence as she no longer aimed to quiet herself. She stood the moonlight, pistol and letters held behind her back. Swallowing her nerves, she spoke, 'Then what is?'
Lord Beckett turned to face her with a hand on his hip. 'I'm afraid currency is the new currency of the realm,' he informed arrogantly.
'I expect then that we can come to some sort of understanding,' she waltzed the center of the room. Her movements were matched by Lord Beckett until they met.
'Our understanding last night was perfectly suitable,' he said with a twisted smile. He reached for the white cravat around his neck and worked to untie it.
'You have broken that understanding,' she corrected haughtily with slit eyes. 'I came here to negotiate.'
'I'm listening,' he murmured, still fiddling with his clothing, as if testing her patience. His actions were met by the barrel of her pistol pointed at his forehead. He dropped his hands and sighed, as if only annoyed and not at all bothered that she could so easily kill him. 'I'm listening intently.'
'These letters of marque, they are signed by the King?' she held them to her chest.
'Yes and they're not valid until they bare my signature and my seal.'
'Or else I would not still be here,' she lowered the pistol to his chest. She was ready to talk. 'You sent Will to get you the compass owned by Jack Sparrow. It will do you no good.'
'Do explain.'
'I have been to the Isla de Muerta and I have seen the treasure myself,' she stepped towards him, feeling more confident. 'And there is something that you need to know.'
'Ah, I see,' the ghost of a smile crossed Lord Becketts features, worrying Elizabeth. 'You think the compass only leads to the Isla de Muerta, and so you hope to save me from an evil fate.'
Elizabeth's stomach turned and the smugness she had previously held was wiped from her features. Had she gotten something wrong?
'But you mustn't worry,' he falsely reassured her. He calmly strode away, towards the great wall map. 'I care not for cursed Aztec gold. My desires are not so provincial,' he crossed his arms across his chest and turned to her. 'There's more than one chest of value in these waters.'
Too many times that night Elizabeth felt so daftly. And she did once more. How could she have ever thought that the compass only lead to one thing in the entire ocean? That such an otherworldly item would have such restrictions? She had never had any leverage and now she had to think quick; or force him into signing the letters.
Lord Beckett strode towards her, getting closer and closer. She didn't stop him. 'And so perhaps you may wish to enhance your offer.'
Elizabeth knew what he meant and she wasn't going to make such a mistake again. She held her pistol at his jaw, cocking it as a warning. They stepped towards the desk. 'Consider last night into your calculations,' she shoved the letters into his chest, rather aggressively. 'You seemed to enjoy it enough.'
'So I did,' he muttered, taking the letters. 'Perhaps I might make it up to you.'
'I don't have time for your games,' she echoed the words he had used to her the night before. 'I want, at the very least, my pardon signed and also the letter of marque. I shall fetch the compass and any knowledge on it which you may require. When I return I expect my father to be unharmed and in good health.'
Lord Beckett eyed her as he signed one of the two documents. 'You're making great efforts to ensure Jack's freedom.'
'These aren't going to Jack,' she snapped defensively.
'Oh really?' he challenged. 'To ensure Mister Turners freedom? For guilt that you feel? Or is it that his life at sea would certainly be reason for you to sunder the relationship?'
Elizabeth tightened her jaw and her eyes darted towards the floor, unable to meet his gaze. She had been called out and lacked a clever retort. 'Why did you lie to me?' she childishly blurted out. There was no denying that she felt hurt over it all. It was rare that she didn't mean much of anything to man.
'Why did you believe me?'
'Well I-' she dropped the pistol searched her thoughts for an explanation. 'I thought I could lay with you and you would do my bidding, just like any man,' she thought. But that wasn't the truth, not fully anyways. 'Well I don't know.'
'Oh, Miss Swann,' Lord Beckett said in a teasing manner. 'Is it unpleasant to be on the receiving end of manipulation?' With no response, save for her eyes flashing down in shame, he chuckled. 'It was nice, but not worth what you demanded.' He placed wax onto her pardon and pressed his signet ring to it. 'You may have your pardon, and upon your return with the compass, your fathers as well. I will not sign the letter of marque until then, and I will certainly not hand out any others to the scores of lovers you may wound in the near future.'
Elizabeth moved to aim her gun once more, but was stopped by his hand on her wrist.
'Shoot and your death will be swift,' what he said was true and she knew it. 'You are to return to me with the compass and the knowledge to use it. You shall be rewarded greatly for it. Understood?' He let go of her wrist, exchanging it for her waist, and handed her the leather pouch. 'Your letter and a copy of Jack's for leverage.'
Nod and walk away; that's what Elizabeth wanted to do. But Lord Beckett's hand on her waist halted her from doing so. She wanted to know what he felt for her and she didn't understand why; she had intended to be so ruthless with him, but instead felt like she was a doe, staring down the barrel of a gun. She felt so naïve. But the confusion had to be put away from her mind.
Elizabeth nodded, agreeing to what he said. 'Promise me that my father will be safe here.' Her free hand went to his chest and gripped onto his waistcoat. 'Please.'
'You have my word.'
With a smooth movement, Elizabeth leaned forwards and kissed the corner of his lips. It was foolish of her and she was well aware of that, but her urge to do it had been far too insatiable to deny. As she backed away, she avoided looking at Lord Beckett's face, fearing what his expression might have been. She knew his actions of desire were for manipulation; the reason she chose to show it was unclear and she felt it would not be approved. Elizabeth swallowed hard. Feeling suffocated by all that she didn't understand about him, nor herself, she turned and rushed out of the office.
WRITERS NOTE
So hopefully I'm going to finally get around to editing the chapters. I'm sure no one wants to be reading a rough draft, but I get so focused on the writing that editing is just... ehg.
