Eleanore Norrington was used to hearing a slight gasp at the sight of her back when someone was helping her to dress. She had come to accept the fact that she would never be perfect, but it had not occurred to her until the next morning, the day she was to be married, that Beckett did not know of her marred flesh. It was hardly as hideous as it had been the first two years, but the skin was raised and soft in more areas than not. No one but she and James, excluding the servants who had dressed her, knew of those scars.

After her beating, she had been bedridden with infection from the wounds, which oozed horribly and left her in agony. Fever had ravaged her already small body and she lost much of her healthy weight. Finally, the infection hd slowly left her frail body and three months after her lashings, she was able to stand with assistance from the housekeeper, who had once been her nanny. That day, she had made a vow to herself that no one would ever hurt her that way again. She never again dared to argue with her father, and even the sight of a switch sent her into a panicked fit of gasping for breath. Night after night she had to have the bandages removed and replaced along with a healing salve that burned. Sometimes, she wished that the infection had killed her, especially after the rumors began to spread.

Some thought she had disappeared because she had been pregnant and the General had forced her to get rid of the problem by aborting the child. Others thought she had been sent to a convent to live in France. So naturally, when she had reappeared in society thin and pale, the shock was evident. She always was sure to cover her shoulders and back, never daring to wear a gown that was off the shoulder. It did not surprise her that no young men dared to approach her for courtship what with her reputation and her aloof exterior.

It had been an immense relief when her father had finally passed on. That was the day that her constant fear began to fade and when her housekeeper suggested she move to the Caribbean with James, she found reason to hope. It had felt like a blessing when Lord Beckett had asked for her hand, though he indeed knew about the scandal surrounding her in London. Ultimately, it was why she had accepted his proposal.

As she lay in bed that morning before sunrise, she pretended to be asleep as the maids gossiped, readying the room for when she awoke. One of the voices, she recognized as a maid named Clara and the other, Michelle. A girl who made no secret of the rich men she'd bedded.

"It doesn't seem that the lady is particularly happy with her engagement." Michelle said as Clara laughed bitterly.

"These damned women don't know how good they have it. I'd give my right leg for a man like Lord Beckett." Michelle sighed.

"He is rather intoxicating..." Ella heard her say. Clara snorted.

"Just because you spent a night with him after meeting him in the market, doesn't mean anything." She warned. Michelle became defensive.

"I never said it did. But she won't appreciate him! I sure would..." Clara stopped what she was doing to look at the girl.

"Look Michelle, no matter what you think, one night with a man of nobility means nothing. You have no claim on him and you know as well as I do that he is with a new woman every night. The truth is, you can spread your legs for a man as many times as you or he would like, but at the end of the day, it's still his wife that gets him. It's just the way of the world."

It became clear to Ella, even with her eyes closed that Michelle was madly jealous.

"Well..." Her voice was haughty. "Maybe he'll change his mind about her when he sees her scars." Ella's eyes shot open and she sat up, glaring at the redhead.

"M-Miss..." Clara stuttered, shooting Michelle a look of death. Ella was furious, but managed to keep her cool.

"Is there something you need Miss Norrington?" Michelle asked nervously. Ella nodded.

"Yes, could you tell Mrs. Norrington that I am awake and would like to take morning tea with her? Thank you Melinda..." She said purposely. The girl's face darkened.

"It's Michelle..." She replied lamely. Ella smiled waving her off.

"Of course it is..." She smiled coldly until the maid left.

Clara quickly reached for Ella's robe and slippers, helping her into them. Horror filled Ella as she realized the dismissive way she had treated her maid. Was the bitterness of her life going to turn her into a cold woman? A vision of her future came to her mind.

She lived on a large estate in London. Three maids flitted about the room worriedly. In a nearby mirror, she caught her reflection. The woman staring back at her was a stranger. Her hair, once a vibrant and lush mahogany, seemed thin and was pulled back into a harsh bun, making her face seem cold and her features unattractive. She wore a disdainful look and small lines surrounded her mouth and eyes, no doubt from years of unhappiness. On her wedding finger was a large diamond ring, which she would have once deemed too gawdy.

As one maid handed her tea, Lady Eleanore Beckett pulled a silver flask from the drawer of the table and poured some of its contents into her drink.

"My lady, you know the doctor advised you not to drink." The maid said. Eleanore turned her stare coldly on the girl.

"Really Justine...did I ask for your opinion on how I should live my life?" Her voice was sharp and biting. The girl shook her head frantically searching for an apology to give.

"I...no...I was just..."

"You were just leaving." Eleanore replied. "Send in my son." The maid bowed slightly before rushing from the room.

Moments later, the door to the parlor opened and a young boy of eight entered, bowing his head to her.

"Mother." He said softly, kissing her cheek. He sat properly in an armchair beside her. She closed her eyes and sucked in a breath to gain courage.

"Daniel...your father has requested that I send you away to school now." The boy's face fell.

"But, why...?" He asked, heartbroken. She remained focused, fighting emotion for it hurt her heart to see him cry.

"He has always planned for you to go...and you know as well as I that when you are of age, you will join him in Port Royal." Daniel's face filled with anger.

"Why? He doesn't care for me. He hasn't seen me since I was five and Gregory was two...and he's never even met Corrine!" Eleanore looked at the window thinking of the litle girl who was nearly two now, she shut her eyes miserably.

"Oh, I am sorry I upset you Mother." Daniel said, looking into his hands.

Eleanore shook her head, regaining her composure.

"No...I'm fine Daniel. Go see to your brother and sister." She said as he kissed her cheek and left the room. Going to the window, she stared longingly at the sea she could barely see. A voice startled her.

"Ella?" No one had called her Ella in over ten years...

"Ella?" Charlotte asked again. Ella seemed to jolt out of a nightmare, she'd been having. Relief flooded her eyes.

"Oh Charlotte..." She said, smiling but Charlotte saw the terror behind the light blue of her eyes which made Charlotte heartsick for her.

"How are you?" She asked the bride to be.

"Fine." Ella answered, perhaps too quickly."Where is James?" She asked, changing the subject. Charlotte set her tea down.

"I'm...not sure. He left hours ago and didn't tell anyone where he going..." Concern filled Ella's face

"I can't imagine he's up to any good..." She said lightly, but her mind was swirling.

As Jack stepped off of the H.M.S. Liberty, the sun was beginning to rise. He rerad the message that had been given to him as he had docked with William in Port Royal only hours before. They had spent the remaining time on the H.M.S. Liberty and Jack had sent Mr. Gibbs away with the Pearl so it would not be discovered. Not that anyone would recognize me... He thought with a smirk. Will had sent Elizabeth to her father's as she was not feeling well. Nausea still claimed her all hours of the day and she was too tired, though she was loathe to admit it.

Will blinked in the light of the rising sun. The soft sound of footsteps caught their attention and Will reached for his sword, poised to attack as Jack fingered the pistol his belt. He was bloody sober and hating it. His head throbbed, begging him for rum. As the figure came close, a smile emerged on the Captain's face.

"Bugger..." He said, satisfied with the surprised look on the former Admiral's face.

"Well Sparrow..." He said with a grin, "You almost look like a decent man." Jack gave him a crooked smile.

"And you almost look like a pirate." He replied dryly, noting Norrington's disheveled appearance. Norrington held out his hand and they shook hands as if they'd been friends all their lives.

"I never thought I'd say this mate, but it's bloody good to see you."