Their entrance in to Port Royale was slow. A storm had rolled in and a light rain dappled the near black waters of the harbor. Several merchant ships bobbed in the deep waters of the port. Cutler smiled. Port Royale was going to be a gold mine for the company and thereby for him. Isabelle came up on decks wrapped in a Kashmir traveling cloak and stared out the small port city with its large manor houses and small shanty houses tucked close to the tide line.

"Isabelle. How are you feeling this morning?"

"Well enough, thank you for asking my lord." Isabelle had been ill the evening before. The storm rocking the ship and the tight confines of the stale smelling cabin had conspired to make her head pound and her stomach flip about. Now that they were in the protection of the harbor, and with the promise of making landfall, her spirits were much lighter. "That's not the question you wanted to ask me though."

"What do you feel?" Cutler asked with a grin. "Can you get anything from this distance?"

"There's a sense of melancholy, but that could be because of the drab weather." Isabelle breathed deeply of the fresh rain coming down and the tang of the sea beneath them. "There is also a sense of festiveness…and nervousness." She turned her gaze to Cutler. "But that could be you…" Cutler smiled slightly and looked at her.

"I'm not nervous. Are you?"

"Of course not." Isabelle turned as the patter of horse hooves beat behind her. "What on earth…?"

"We picked him up two days ago. A splendid animal, don't you think?"

"I don't remember that…"

"You were ill, we never went fully into port to receive him, he was brought out to us."

"I see." Isabelle approached the big white stallion and stroked its velvet soft nose. It breathed against her palm and stamped impatiently against the decking of the ship. "I think he's impatient." Isabelle laughed as the horse nudged her shoulder. "As am I."

"That makes three of us." Cutler waited for the horse to be put into the barge that had been tethered to the side of their ship. "You are coming as well." It wasn't a question. His demand cut into her like a knife. Sometimes she didn't understand his foul moods and the way they could shift like the breeze or the tides. She nodded briefly and allowed one of the East India Trading Company agents to assist her onto the barge.

"Here you are miss." He brushed the wood of the seat and helped her sit down.

"Thank you." Isabelle watched as Cutler boarded the barge and mounted the big white stallion.

"To land, shall we?" The marines took up oars and began to pull against the tides towards land. As the flat bottomed vessel touched the sandy beach, Cutler took his heels to the stallion and took off up onto the sand. The horse pranced as it grew re-accustomed to solid land beneath its hooves and not the constant shifting of a wood decked ship.

"Follow along with the marines, Isabelle." Cutler ordered as he spurred the horse towards town and on to the high bluffs that guarded the harbor.

Isabelle followed behind slowly taking in the sights of Port Royale. It was a quaint town, silent and fearful. She watched as a small girl opened a shuttered window and peered out at the passing marines. Her mother was quick to sweep the child back and slam the window down. Isabelle moved on up the heights and into the fort. She saw another party of British Marines escorting a young man. He was finely dressed in dark clothes that were covered in rich embroidery. His dark eyes passed over her but did not see her. The marines escorted him to the top of the hill where other finely dressed people stood trying to get out of the deluge that had set itself upon the island. A young woman dressed in a gold gown rushed towards the man in black. She spoke softly to him, she said something that Isabelle couldn't hear amidst the pack of people and shocked gasps at seeing the dark young man handcuffed. Isabelle skirted the crowd and stood in one of the archways that looked out onto a green lawn covered in chairs. One look at the arrangement and at the veil loosely pinned into the girls sun bleached hair was all she needed to see to know that they had intruded upon a wedding. A piece of water logged sheet music blew in a gust of wind and slapped heavily against the hem of her traveling cloak. Cutler stood shrouded in his black cloak of waxed wool as he too took in the scene of wedding preparations. A commotion at the edge of the crowd drew her attention away from the wedding set up as well.

"How dare you! Stand your men down at once, do you hear me?"

"Governor Weatherby Swann, it has been too long." Cutler said with a well practiced flourish of his cape. Isabelle felt as if a ballast stone had been thrust upon her. With a sinking feeling she knew that Cutler had planned this meeting on purpose. The wedding was an unforeseen perk in his deranged little play.

"Cutler Becket?"

"It's Lord now…actually." Cutler said without really looking at the heavily wigged man.

"Lord or not, you have no reason and no authority to arrest this man." The governor pointed at the young man in manacles who stood tall and proud in front of the marines who had brought him here.

"In fact I do. Mr. Mercer!" Cutler extended his hand and his clerk, the hatchet faced Mr. Mercer stepped forward producing a folio that Isabelle had seen on Cutlers desk aboard the ship many times. He'd often poured over its contents with a self satisfied grin upon his face. "The warrant for the arrest of one William Turner" Cutler handed the document to the wigged man and stared at the bridal couple, the same self satisfied grin tugging impishly at his mouth.

"This warrant is for Elizabeth Swann…"

"Oh is it? That's annoying, my mistake. Arrest her." The marines heartlessly pulled the bride from the groom's shackled embrace and went about shackling her as well. The groom's anger burst out, but Isabelle did not stagger or fall back. He was in control of his temper and the full force of his wrath was directed towards Cutler. She could see it as one would watch an arrow leave a bow.

"On what charges?" The girl asked, her voice shrill with the shock of having her wedding day turned about so unexpectedly.
"Aha! Here's the one for William Turner." Cutler handed a second warrant to the stunned governor and then reached into the folio for a third. "And I have another for a Mr. James Norrington. Is he present?"

"What are the charges?!?!?" The bride repeated, indignant that she should be ignored.

"Commodore Norrington resigned his commission some months ago." The governor said distractedly as he perused the two identical warrants he'd been given. Isabelle could understand his confusion. This day was to be a happy one. A day without state business. And now, his role as father was being over run by the need to go back into duties of state.

"I don't believe that's the answer to the question I asked." Cutler drawled as he turned to face the still shocked governor.

"Lord Beckett in the category of questions NOT answered…" The groom, Mr. Turner burst out. There was a resolve about these two, this Swann and Turner; a strength that flowed from one to the other. Isabelle admired it. She also admired the rebellious air that electrified the couple.

"We are under the jurisdiction of the Kings governor of Port Royale and you will tell us what we are charged with." The bride set her jaw as she glared icy daggers at Cutler. Isabelle shivered in spite of the fact that she was not in line with the glare.

"The charge… is conspiring to set free a man convicted of crimes against the crown and empire and condemned to death for which the.." Governor Swann's eyes nearly bulged out of his head and Isabelle feared the man might have stopped breathing.

"For which the punishment regrettably is also death." Cutler supplied. A gasp went around the crowd as word spread. "Perhaps you remember a certain pirate named Jack Sparrow."

Isabelle's head snapped to stare at Cutler but her attention did not remain there long.

"CAPTAIN!!!" The bridal couple snapped together.

"Captain Jack Sparrow." The bride supplied.

"Captain Jack Sparrow. Yes, I thought you might." Cutler said looking from one to the other.

Isabelle looked back out to the area arranged for the wedding and over the cliff that looked out into the harbor where the ships of the Company gently rocked and was brought back to another time in her life.

Cutler had been in India only a few months when he started speaking of going back to England.

"Father, the East India Trading Company is growing and expanding. I won't be able to advance within the company unless I can further my education; excel over my competition. I can't do that from this place." Isabelle stood outside the big office doors, candle in hand as she was prepared to go to bed.

"But Cutler, something is to be said of learning the business from the inside, like any tradesman…"

"I am not to be a tradesman, father. I am to be a businessman, an entrepreneur. I will not be able to move through the company if I am to stay in this….this, jungle." Isabelle shivered. She could sense how Cutler was holding back; his anger held an icy fire that buffered against her soul.

"Cutler, you have only just returned to India….will you not give it a chance?"

"You know that what I speak of, what I wish for is right. I would love to stay…" A lie. Thought Isabelle. "but my future depends on it."

"Very well. I'll see what arrangements can be made." Isabelle scampered off to her room before she had a chance to be spotted.

Cutler did not warmed to the community and had become increasingly distant. One thing he seemed increasingly fascinated with were maps. His room was filled with maps and globes, sextants and compasses. He spent hours plotting out the gardens; bringing order and structure to what had once been overgrown jungles.

Along with the fanaticism to order and structure, Cutler carried himself with the importance and dignity of the English Lord he was born to be. Isabelle tried to be kind and warm to him, bringing him from the icy England winters into the warm Indian summers. At dinners, dressed in beautiful silks, her hair and skin perfumed and oiled, she was the very embodiment of India. Her smile seemed to reflect the sun even in the darkest of evening dinners. She was a gem in the Beckett household. But in spite of all of that, Cutler would not warm to her. His eyes were colder than an arctic ice flow, and he treated her with malice and disdain.

Isabelle was sitting in the garden one day when she felt Cutler's presence approach. She concentrated on her book and waited until the sound of his shoes crunched on the white stone walk behind her.

"Good Day Isabelle."

"Oh, Cutler! I didn't hear…"

"You didn't need to hear me. Don't play dumb."

"What are you talking about?"

"You can sense things can't you." Isabelle stood up and came towards where Cutler was standing.

"Sense things?" She smiled at him. "Cutler…really now."

"I said, don't play dumb." Isabelle could feel Cutler's anger building and her smile faded. "Years ago, you asked me if my father had told me what it is you do. I figured it out."

"You're crazy Cutler." He took a step towards her and Isabelle moved back. "Where would you get such an idea?"

"For years now, Isabelle, you've been attending meetings for the Company. For years now, you've been working for my father, how?"

"Your father adopted me…"

"He never would have adopted a stupid girl. He'd never allow a girl into Company meetings if she didn't have anything to offer him. My father isn't stupid."

"Your father is a kind and decent man. He cares about me! He saved me!"

"Then tell me, why did he save you? For what purpose were you saved?" Isabelle's skin crawled as he advanced on her. She found it difficult to breathe and felt as if she were going to swoon.

"Cutler please…"

"What is it you do for my father Isabelle?" The rage he was emitting reminded Isabelle of some of the rage she felt when she had been in Bedlam Asylum. She shuddered because it was hardly veiled. Even if Cutler did know what it was she could do, he did not know how sensitive she was to it. "TELL ME!" In Isabelle's mind, fire whipped out from Cutler and swirled about her. The force of it was so strong that she felt as if she were physically lifted from her feet and tossed backwards. She fell flat on her back and felt the air rush from her lungs as darkness engulfed her.

Cutler watched as Isabelle fell backwards over the bench and lay sprawled on the ground. The book she'd been reading lay open just beyond her hand and fluttered in the slight breeze coming off the river; golden hair swept across her face where it fell from the pins. He stood above her for a moment and took in the look of her. She looked vulnerable and weak; nothing that could possibly be of any use to him in his endeavor to take over the company. He left her where she fell and went back into the house.

Isabelle opened her eyes slowly and blinked up into the soft orange and pink sky of an early evening sunset. She took a deep breath and went to push herself up but felt a hand on her shoulder.

"I wouldn't be so quick to do that love." Isabelle turned her head towards the voice, but instantly regretted the action as her head felt split open. She felt a rough hand against her cheek and looked up into a tanned face and dark eyes that were unfamiliar to her. "I told you not to be doing that."

"Who are you?"

"Not important." His accent brought her back to Bedlam, something thick and lower class. He was unlike anyone she'd met while in India. "I think the more important question is, what's a beautiful young girl doing lying in the dirt?"

"What time is it?"

"You didn't answer my question." He said with a lopsided grin.

"I don't know how I ended up here….I was having an argument and must have tripped."

"An argument wiff who? Yourself?"

"No." She turned her head away from him trying to keep control of her being. Her head was spinning and throbbing at the same time. She felt as if she had a monsoon between her ears. "Who are you? How did you come to be here?" She asked thickly.

"I was walking along the river…looking for something you might say."

"For what?"

"I don't know, I figure I'll know it when I see it." The man grinned lasciviously at her showing several gold teeth.

"Who are you? What reason would you have for being in our garden?" She said trying to sit up again.

"I told you, I'm looking for something, and my name is Jack Sparrow, Captain Jack Sparrow to be exact." He held a hand behind her shoulders as she fell weakly back to the ground with the force of the spinning behind her eyes.

"Well Captain Sparrow, it was very kind of you to stop and help. I am in your debt…"

"Isabelle!? Where are you?" She heard Lord Beckett and another one of the servants calling for her in the garden.

"You have to leave….you can't be seen here…." Isabelle remained on the flat of her back and watched as Captain Sparrow looked towards the garden.

"It was a pleasure meeting you Isabelle. We will meet again." Isabelle closed her eyes and it seemed to her that Jack was gone only moments before her vision was filled with the sight of Lord Beckett. The servant scooped her from the gravel and carried her inside all the while Lord Beckett issued orders for her care.

Isabelle was pulled from her reverie as William Turner and Elizabeth Swann were taken to the prison to be locked in separate cells. Cutler stood, incredibly happy with himself. The crowd slowly dissipated and moved away, not really knowing what to think of the events that had unfolded before them. Had they not witnessed it, they would never have believed what happened. As the crowd thinned, Cutler suddenly became aware of her presence.

"Oh, Isabelle, there you are. What did you think?"

"Would you like my honest opinion?"

"Of course…"

"I think your timing is despicable and that they did not deserve such treatment. Cutler, it was their wedding day!" Isabelle said striding forward. "Could you not have at least waited a few days and incarcerated them in private?"

"Isabelle I think you forget your place. And how many times must I remind you of the respect you must accord me and my title."

"Well, I'm sorry your Lordship, but you asked for my honest opinion…" He turned angry blue gray eyes on her and she shuddered a bit. Any of the anger she might have felt at him for his actions was instantly washed away by the overwhelming power of his rage at her.

"No more of your opinions, they weary me." Cutler said dismissively. "I require a report on the state of the town. What did you find when you came up with the marines?"

"The town is afraid of what is happening. Their world has recently been turned upside down. They'll find it even more askew within the hour as news of this latest scandal reaches them." Cutler smiled. "That is how you wanted it, is it not?"

"Yes, actually." Cutler nodded and reached for his cloak. "Very well, I have business to attend to. If you wouldn't mind, Isabelle, I would like your assistance." He moved off without waiting for her reply. It hadn't been a request, but an order.

Cutler moved off to where the horse was standing at the hands of a groom in the street. A carriage had been brought up for Isabelle's use. She followed along though she did not like it.