Isabelle sat at the table and listened idly as Cutler continued to do business. It was a development that Isabelle was still trying to grow accustomed to. The previous Lord Beckett had done no business while at table, claiming it gave him indigestion and was a nuisance and a disruption to family time. Cutler believed that every waking moment was supposed to be used for business.
"If those ships in the harbor aren't gone by tomorrow evening, have Mr. Gillett go out and sink them where they sit. If the captains will not come into port to treat, then they must get out of the way. I'll not allow them to hinder Company business."
"Yes M'Lord." Mr. Mercer stood staring at the wall opposite him as if looking at a particularly interesting piece of art. He had been part of the Royal Highland Guard and his military baring had never left him. Isabelle knew he had learned many tricks in the course of a lifetime of travels and mercenary work. The man was now a most successful and trained assassin. His thoughts occasionally strayed to his past misdeeds and she disliked what she saw. The man made her nervous.
"Mercer, have you anything regarding what we spoke about yesterday?"
"Aye sir. My informant tells me the governor has been casting a wide net. We'll know soon." Isabelle looked up as Cutler and Mr. Mercer's eyes settled on her. She glanced at them both and folded her napkin in her lap.
"Tell me then, how am I to help in this?"
"You aren't. Not yet anyway." Cutler glared at Mercer and the Scot left the room. Isabelle was plunged into silence as Cutler refused to acknowledge her existence for the duration of the meal.
Three days later Isabelle was wandering the market place as part of an inspection trip. They talked to the agents and the captains as wares were put on display. Isabelle knew that very few of them were excited to see Cutler on the streets. One in particular was very nervous. The feeling of it rolled off the man like a stench and Isabelle had to walk away.
"You sensed something."
"He's nervous. Is he a suspected smuggler?"
"Aye, he's a smuggler of something more valuable than foodstuffs and trinkets."
"Pirate treasure?" Isabelle said with a grin. "My Lord Beckett I didn't think you believed those stories any more."
"Oh, it's not a Pirate's treasure….not really anyway." Isabelle could get nothing more out of him, but saw an image of the jail and a young woman sitting in a bare cell. Isabelle made no move to talk about what she'd seen but hoped to find a way to help Elizabeth Swann.
Isabelle stood across from the entry way to the jail. Mercer had come to supper and spoken quietly with Cutler, but Isabelle knew what they were talking about. Governor Swann had finally secured safe passage for his daughter and he planned to break her out of jail. Isabelle had waited until Cutler had left the house with Mercer and then had left the house herself and now she found herself skulking in the shadows of the jail, prepared to help in the second jail break of her life. She waited as a coach pulled up and came to a stop outside the jail, the horses stomping and snorting impatiently.
"I'll be right back." The governor moved across the courtyard of the fort and disappeared. Isabelle snuck quietly up to the coach and waited in the shadows for the sound of the door to open on the other side.
It didn't take long before the Governor and his daughter came rushing from the jail and made a dash for the coach. As the governor handed his daughter up into the coach, Isabelle leapt in from the other side.
"Who are you?" Elizabeth asked as Isabelle settled herself into the seat across from her.
"Keep your voice down, I'm a friend."
"Why should I believe you?" Isabelle settled her cold eyes on Elizabeth.
"Because you don't have the luxury not to." Isabelle said calmly. "Now, if you want to live to see the sun rise tomorrow, you'll listen to everything I have to tell you, and you'll act on it." Elizabeth sat quietly as Isabelle told her of how Mercer and Cutler knew of her escape and how Mercer was planning on stopping her.
"Then what should I do?"
"Lord Beckett has the papers in his office. You can take them and put your name on them. He's got them signed already."
"But what about Will?"
"That I don't know." Isabelle looked out the window as the city streamed by. "But we don't have a lot of time, we're almost to the waterfront."
"I should tell my father…."
"No! His plan is seconds from collapsing before his eyes. You are in grave danger if you stay here much longer."
Elizabeth glanced up at the top of the coach where her father sat perched beside the driver.
"Miss Swann!? You don't have time to warn him….I'm sorry, but you have to act now."
"Where is the pardon?" Elizabeth asked.
"In a box on Cutler's desk, his office is at the top of the stairs facing the waterfront. Now take this and do what you must, I only hope you can save yourself and Mr. Turner." Isabelle handed a pistol to Elizabeth and waited for the carriage to slow as it maneuvered a tricky turn. Isabelle opened the door wide and carefully lowered herself to the ground and ran beside the coach for a number of paces before releasing her grip on the door. Elizabeth did the same and glanced back at Isabelle.
"Thank you."
"Just go!" Isabelle threw her hood up over her head and rushed to get back to the manor house before she was found to be missing. She had only gone a few blocks when the air around her shuddered. She froze beside a dark alley and clutched at the cold brick walls, eyes wide and deeply black as the vision of what was occurring danced before her. She saw Mercer step away from a dead man and approach the carriage she'd only just exited. Governor Swann was detained by Company marines and Mercer took great satisfaction in practically ripping the coach door from its hinges. He was prepared to kill whoever he found inside. Isabelle laughed softly as a look of complete consternation came over his face at seeing the empty coach. She continued to laugh softly in the darkness, clutching the wall with tears slipping softly down her face. She'd done it. Now it was up to Elizabeth.
It took her several moments to regain her strength and senses and to continue her way up to her home where she fell gratefully into bed, completely exhausted.
She slept late the next morning and rose only when the sun had crept most of the way across her floor. She dressed simply and went downstairs to find the house empty. The major domo brought her letters to her while she took tea in the parlor. The top missive was from Cutler.
"You are needed at the offices immediately."
It was not signed, but Cutler's handwriting was unmistakable.
"When did this letter come?"
"Not twenty minutes ago, miss." The man answered.
"Have Violet meet me upstairs promptly. I'll need her help."
"Yes ma'am." The man left the room to fetch the maid that helped with Isabelle's hair and wardrobe. Isabelle casually looked over the remainder of the letters but saw nothing of import or interest. Mostly just cards begging her to attend some frivolous tea or another. Letters from people trying to get in her good graces thinking that by doing so they'd also be in Cutler's benevolent light. She went upstairs quickly and changed into a gown more suitable to be in at the offices. Violet helped pin her hair up into a half bun, the remainder of her long blonde hair hung down her back in large soft curls that swayed across her back. The Indian calico of her gown, illegal though it was now, was vibrant with the multi-hued birds and flowers of the tropics. She and Cutler were permitted the illegal fabrics because they'd owned them prior to the ban. She checked herself in the mirror one last time to be sure that she looked presentable and then swept from the house and up into the carriage that had been called up for her use.
When she arrived at the offices things were calm. Calmer than she thought they ought to be. She moved up the stairs and knocked softly at Cutler's office door.
"Enter!" Isabelle came in and dipped a curtsy to Cutler and nodded to Mercer and the half dozen other men in the room.
"Ah, Isabelle! So good of you to come, I expected you much later."
"I was awake, and your message said immediately, my Lord."
"That it did." Cutler smiled his indulgent smile at her. "I will conclude the business with these gentlemen and then you and I must talk."
Isabelle stood by and listened idly. They were discussing the building of a new ship; a sleek, fast and heavy ship that would become the power and the force in the waters of the Caribbean. The builders were shocked and elated. The ship that Cutler spoke of would be the biggest their yard had yet built. The Dauntless and the Interceptor had been the pride of the British Navy in the Caribbean, but both had been built in the English shipping yards. The lesser ships in the Caribbean fleet were either commandeered from pirates, merchants, or were built and commissioned by local ship builders such as the ones that now stood in Cutler's office. These men were thinking big and were already creating lists of the materials they'd need to equip the ship as Cutler was detailing.
"Can you manage?"
"Aye sir. It might take some time, but I believe we will be able to construct such a thing."
"Do it quickly. I need that ship as soon as is possible. Sooner than possible, actually."
"We'll get to work laying the keel within the week, My Lord." The other ship builder said. The men were dismissed with a wave of Cutler's hand.
Isabelle stood by and waited while Cutler jotted some notes down and signed several documents. Isabelle cleared her throat softly.
"Oh, Isabelle! I had quite forgotten you were here." Cutler set his pen down and came around the desk. "Forgive me. Business you know…"
"Of course. How can I be of service?" Cutler escorted her out into the sunshine on the balcony.
"You might be surprised to know there was a jail break yester eve."
"What?"
"Yes, the governor assisted in it. Quite the scandal. It'll be all over this dreary little town by supper I should guess." Cutler glanced at Isabelle and smiled at seeing her wide eyed, fear filled countenance. He misread the fear though. He thought she was remembering the Indian jail break, but she was seeing last night's fail.
"No worries my dear." Cutler said tapping her hand. "It was not as intense as the one a decade ago. My goodness has it been that long?"
"It seems as if it were only yesterday." Isabelle answered distantly. She was wondering where this was going. She wasn't sure if Elizabeth had succeeded or not; or if she had escaped successfully.
"Indeed." Cutler's hand rested absently across his chest, his fingers curling as if scratching at an itch. The silence stretched between them before Cutler pulled himself from the painful memories. "Any way, as I said: nothing to fear. It would seem Miss Swann is more enterprising than her father or her fiancée."
"Miss Swann?" Isabelle turned her head. "You've employed her now too?"
"In a way. She was rather….persuasive." Cutler grinned again. "Regardless, she has set off in pursuit of her love and of Jack Sparrow. But, we can't have her running off free with Company property. That's where you come in my dear."
"What do you mean? What Company property?" Isabelle's heart was soaring. Elizabeth had done it! She'd escaped with the pardon and was free! She had to concentrate on Cutler though as he continued to speak.
"I need to know where she's going. She's either still here in town or she has set sail. Her choice means little, but I need you to sniff her out."
"I'm not a bloodhound, Cutler." She felt the air shudder slightly as he bridled at her use of his first name, but he chose to ignore it.
"You'll find her. You have that talent. That is the task I'm charging you with and you'll carry it out." Cutler's fingers dug into her arm. "Mercer is going to accompany you to make sure you are staying on track. I think Elizabeth will run for help, but if Turner and Sparrow are at sea, where would she turn to for that help?"
"The Commodore…" Isabelle came to the conclusion herself, without the mental prompt she picked up on from Cutler.
"Exactly! My God Isabelle, but you do surprise me with how intelligent you can be when it suits you." Isabelle glared up at Cutler but withdrew her glare as Cutler's fingers dug deeper into her arm. "Now, you'll leave at the soonest moment. Pack lightly and be prepared to leave with the tide should the need arise." Cutler released her with a slight shove towards the door.
"As you wish it." Isabelle dipped a quick curtsy and made to leave.
"And Isabelle…." Isabelle stopped at the door, her fingertips on the brass handle when Cutler spoke. "If I find out you had any hand in her escape, you'll regret it."
"What?" Isabelle wasn't sure she had heard him correctly and she turned away from the door. She instantly regretted doing so as she caught Cutler's glacial stare full on; a stare so cold that it robbed her of her breath.
"Rather odd that everywhere you go there's a jail break, doesn't it seem?"
"Cutler you know I never…."
"Yes so you've said repeatedly for the last eleven years." Isabelle schooled her features and waited until Cutler went back to the ledgers on his desk before she raced from the room to put as much distance between her and Cutler as was possible.