Nearly a week had slipped by and Isabelle felt drained having entertained so many of the elite of Port Royal. After her appearance in church on Sunday they had all insisted on visiting her and asking her questions regarding her time away from the city. This evening she had begged out of a party and had retired early to Cutler's dismay.

"Isabelle dear, you have been shut up in here far too long, it would do you well!"

"It would do him well to have me intercepting the weak and ferreting out the corrupt." Isabelle thought. "My Lord, I am weary. It is too soon for me to have entertained so many. I should not have pushed myself so hard."

Cutler rolled his eyes and clicked his tongue against the back of his teeth. "If that's what you think Isabelle. I shall return late tonight. If you are as tired as you say I won't expect you to be up when I return." He had stomped from the hall, followed by Mr. Mercer who stared at her with his cold dark eyes. She had pulled her shawl tight over her shoulders and had waited until the latch had clicked before she sank into the plush carpeting on the stairs with a contented sigh.

"Miss Beckett?" She looked up to see one of the house servants coming towards her, a concerned look in their eyes. "Are you well ma'am? Should I go call your brother back?"

"No. I was merely relieved to not have to go to this party this evening. It will be a relief to have the house to myself for the night."

"Is there anything I can do for you ma'am?"

"Yes. Could you have a tub drawn up for me? I'd like to take a bath this evening." The man bowed out of the room and went to make the necessary preparations for her bath. It took some time for the big tub to be brought to her hearth and then slowly it was filled with pail after pail of hot water. When it was finally full her maid helped her remove her gown and corset.

"I can undress myself the rest of the way, thank you." Isabelle said by way of dismissal.

"Would you like your hair pinned up miss?"

"No. That will be all." The girl left Isabelle standing before her wardrobe in her chemise. Isabelle's face and hands were still dark. Her arms and chest were as pale as the linen of her chemise. She laughed as she thought how comical she must look. She went to her vanity and picked up the big silver backed brush and ran it through her long blonde hair, stopping only occasionally to pull at a snag. Content that the tub had cooled to a decent temperature she slipped out of the last of her undergarments and slipped into the blissfully warm tub. She washed and rinsed her hair and then set to scrubbing the rest of her body. Content that she was pink and clean, she eased back in the tub and closed her eyes. She drifted off for a bit of time until the water began to cool and her fingertips and toes felt wrinkled and water logged. She rose from the tub and reached for the drying cloth that was hanging beside the fire. It was warm and smelled of cedar from where the maid had just pulled it from the chest. She thought that if she had been in India, she would have curled up upon her bed still wet and let the air dry her. But here in Port Royal, even though it was still tropical, the wind was slightly chill from the sea. She toweled the water from her hair and then went to her wardrobe to dress for bed. She had just tied the sash on her wrapper when the maid knocked and asked if the tub could be removed.

"Yes. I'll need no help the rest of the evening."

"Yes Miss Beckett." The girl dipped a curtsey and called for two strong kitchen boys to come up and remove the tub. Isabelle stayed behind a screen and began brushing her hair. When she was again alone she stepped out onto the cool marble of her balcony and stared down into the gardens. They had been wild when they had arrived. Cutler had spent a small fortune to make them neat and orderly. One dark plot showed where the rich soil had been torn up, the old plants removed and the new ones ready to be put in. She shook her head. Cutler always had to have everything 'just so,' a habit that often annoyed her. He even had a say in what she wore any more. She ran the brush through her hair a few more times before she sighed heavily and turned back towards her room. The glass of the lamp in her room shed a pink hue across the room and out into the silver light on the balcony. Her hair was still damp and she ran her brush through the long golden tresses as she went back inside hoping her hair would dry soon so she could plait it. She almost dropped the brush when an errant thought tripped lightly across her mind's eye.

But, soft! What light through yonder window breaks?
It is the east, and Juliet is the sun.
Arise, fair sun, and kill the envious moon,
Who is already sick and pale with grief,
That thou her maid art far more fair than she:
Be not her maid, since she is envious;
Her vestal livery is but sick and green
And none but fools do wear it; cast it off.

She raced back to the balcony and looked down into the deep shadows of the garden. The tall hedges cast long deep shadows and the moon slid behind dark clouds. She tapped her fingers against the rail of her balcony. Was someone standing in her garden, or was she merely imagining things? She went back inside and put her brush on her vanity, turned down the lamp and crawled beneath the covers of her bed.

Days later, dressed in her finest, Isabelle exited the big house and took the carriage to church. Cutler had begged off this day, saying that though it was the Sabbath, he had an important merchant coming to the house to discuss some urgent business.

Isabelle sat in the pew for several minutes after the service had ended silently contemplating her life thus far. There were many things she could be thankful for, but also things she regretted. She bowed her head and said a prayer for Jack, and also for Elizabeth and Will. She wasn't sure where they were, or what their plans were, but she knew that Governor Swann was worried for his daughter's well being. As she crossed herself and rose from her seat, she realized that she was worried for Elizabeth's well being as well. She had thought of Elizabeth as a friend and had not seen her since she had searched for Will to alleviate the girl's fears and trepidations.

The sun was high in the sky and it slightly blinded her as she exited the brick building. She opened her parasol and looked at the long line of carriages going back up the road to the manor houses and the poorer people walking back to their homes. Her carriage was no where in sight. She went to the edge of the street and stepped around a puddle filled with oozy gray-green mud. She looked up and down the street but still did not see her carriage.

"Miss Beckett?" She turned and stared as James Norrington strolled towards her.

"Mr. Norrington…good day to you." Isabelle said stiffly. The part of her that wanted nothing to do with James Norrington took hold of her and she wished he would sink into one of the deep puddles in the road.

"Yes, good day to you as well. Did you enjoy services this morning?"

"Yes sir, were you at church as well? I didn't see you."

"I was at the back. I'm not exactly front row material any more." Isabelle looked down at the hem of her gown and blushed lightly. She hadn't meant to insult him. She might hate him for knowing one of her darkest secrets, and for ignoring her because of it, but she didn't really want to hurt his feelings so. James Norrington saw the slight blush come to her cheeks and made an effort to change the subject. "Where is your carriage?"

"I don't exactly know." She looked back up the street and James saw that though he had diverted the subject of conversation from himself, he had served to further embarrass her. Even with her skin still dark from the effects of her sun burn, he could tell she was blushing from mortification. "I'll just have to walk home. Good day Mr. Norrington." She turned and quickly took fast strides back up the street and away from Norrington.

"Please, allow me to escort you." He said following behind her.

"That isn't necessary." She said softly. "Don't trouble yourself."

"It's no trouble at all." Norrington said keeping stride with her. "Please?"

"Why would you want to escort me?" Isabelle said shaking her head as she gathered the front of her skirt to cross the deeply rutted street.

"Well, for one, it is the proper and gentlemanly thing to do, and secondly, it would give me a chance to inquire after you." Isabelle was struck dumb and stared at him for a moment as they continued. He grasped her elbow and guided her around a puddle that she hadn't seen and smiled hesitantly at her. "Why are you looking at me like that?"

"I didn't think you cared. You hadn't called before, and we've been in Port Royal for some time."

"I did call on you. Your house keeper said you were taking no callers." Isabelle's jaw tightened and she shook her head. "Did no one inform you of my inquiries?"

"No, no one did. I was not accepting callers…but it would have been nice to know who had called that I might return the consideration. I wonder how many other people my staff has failed to inform me of."

"You're angry."

"Of course I am! Would you not be had someone kept something from you?"

"Aye. And I have been in the past. But the past is not what I wish to speak of." He said looking up the hill at the great houses that rose from the palm trees. "How have you fared?"

"I was ill. Sick with sun poisoning they say." She peeked up at him from beneath the edge of her parasol. "I don't much believe it. I spent a great deal of time in the sun in India and never felt ill effects before."

"But the degree to which you were exposed and the lack of water or good food had much to do with your illness I assume. That and….." he drifted off. He wasn't sure how to broach the subject of the heart.

"The heart?" Isabelle saw the beating, pounding leather sack in her mind's eye where Norrington had flung it upon the desk top. "I'm sure that did have an effect in the length of my illness."

"You said something….in the office. You told me if I had but mentioned my possession of the heart, you could have protected yourself…"

"I'd rather not talk about it." Isabelle said, closing her parasol and looping the strap around her wrist that she might be able to grasp her skirts in both hands and move quicker.

"And Jack Sparrow being dead? How did you know of that? Jack was alive when I left him, and unless you saw him die before you saw me in the woods, how would you have known?"

"Please…no more questions." Isabelle shook her head. They had finally arrived at the back garden gate. She fumbled with the latch frantically trying to open the heavy wrought iron gate. She had to get away from James Norrington's questions. She could not bear them.

She could not bear what was coming next.

Isabelle finally lifted the latch and was able open the gate but James grasped it before she could slip through.

"Please!" She whispered. "Please don't ask me again….please don't ask me to tell you."

"How do you know Sparrow is dead?" His dark eyes cut into her as she stared up at him.

"Just trust that I do, now please…." She turned to go through the gate but he grasped her arm and spun her to face him again.

"Not until you tell me Elizabeth is well!"

Without thinking Isabelle reached her free arm back and brought her hand across James Norrington's face in a tremendous slap; the sound echoing in the quiet Sunday afternoon like the crack of a whip. She slipped through the gate and slammed it behind her, the iron ringing against stone, and left James Norrington to stare as she ran up the garden path back towards the house.