Isabelle had secluded herself in the library for most of the rest of that day. She had not ventured out to the gardens as she was wont to do, and she hadn't taken the noon time meal. Her stomach growled loudly at tea time, but she drank only tea. She avoided Cutler that evening as well. She did not want to talk to anyone.

Why had she slapped James Norrington?

James Norrington had unnerved her, that was undeniably true. He had brought up the subject of the heart and had tried to get her to divulge her deepest secret. Though he had kept the secret of her humble origin to himself (as far as she knew) she was not sure she could trust him with her darkest secret. It had taken her several days to come to this conclusion and now she stood at the window of the library and stared at the palm trees nodding in the light breeze with her hands clasped behind her back. She heard Cutler enter the house and turned slowly as he stomped into the library.

"There you are!" He said as he tossed his hat and cape down onto a table. A book skidded from the table top and bounced on the floor, several of the pages creasing beneath the heavy binding. Isabelle knelt and picked up the book and smoothed the pages flat before closing it. "I was hoping I'd see you."

"Of course my lord. What is it you require of me?" Cutler was anxious, or perhaps excited. She was not sure which.

"I need to leave for a time."

"Leave? Why?" Isabelle set the book atop the mantle as Cutler scurried about the room collecting documents and folios to place in a satchel.

"It is important. It concerns the heart." Isabelle shuddered at the mention of the foul thing. "I need to be sure it is protected, and there are already rumors that some know it is here."

"How would they?"

"Oh, some of the clerks heard Mr. Mercer and I talking about it at headquarters."

"You should not speak of such a thing when so many ears might hear!" Isabelle said as she followed him about the room.

"You think I don't know that?!" He snapped at her as he finally stopped and turned on her. "Of course I know. But I needed to conduct business and you would not permit it in the house, so Mr. Mercer and I were forced to speak of it only at headquarters. You see, I was thinking of you." He reached out to caress her cheek but she backed away from him. "You're such a scared little filly….someone will have to bend you to the bit and soon."

"When do we leave?" She asked trying to change the subject.

"'We'? We are not leaving anywhere. You are to stay here." When she didn't have a quick response for him he smiled indulgently. "I can't have you near it Isabelle. I can't risk your having another episode."

"I'm stronger now."

"I don't know that you are." He backed her slowly up until her shoulders were pinned against one of the many book shelves that lined the walls of the room. He looked down at her with his cold blue eyes and smiled. "How can I trust that you won't break down in the middle of negotiations for the protection of the heart? How do I know you won't use it to your own designs?" He leered at her.

"I have no designs on the---ah!" She winced as he grasped her arm and Mr. Mercer came in holding a chest. Cutler dragged her across the room until she stood before the chest. A thunderous boom rent the air and she tried to cover her ears. Her knees gave beneath her but Cutler held her up.

"You don't want to destroy it now? Cast it onto the fire and destroy the best weapon the East India Trading Company has against the miscreants, pirates and thieving merchants? You would see the business my father helped create come crashing down about your ears?" He leaned in until his mouth was close to her ear. "You would see that which brought you up from the gutter and set you so high bring you crashing down again? Would you like that Isabelle? To cast all of this aside and become the whore you were supposed to be?" She tried to wrench away from him but he held fast. "Would you?!?!?!" She tried to strike him, to break his hold on her arm, but she couldn't, he was stronger than she was. "Answer me!"

"No!"

"No you won't answer me? Or no you don't want to see it all destroyed?" Isabelle stared up into his cold eyes for but a moment and then looked to the hearth which was smoldering low, the golden glow the only thing lighting the room now that the sun had descended.

"Tell me!" He said shaking her violently. "For days you avoid me, you are hiding something! You are plotting!" he raged.

"No I'm not! Your father was a kind and decent man! He supported me! He loved me!" Isabelle reasoned frantically.

"What has that to do with anything?"

"I owe him too great a debt to bring his company crashing down. It would do you well to remember he loved you too and that he supported you as much as he supported me!" She was angry now. How dare he threaten her with trying to destroy the company!? It was he who would destroy it with his maniacal assertiveness, desire for control and his snobbery. From somewhere, deep within she drew on a secret strength, a strength that glowed like the tiniest pin prick of fire. It was a spark that needed to be nurtured.

Cutler glowered at her and hissed down at her "You stupid slut! You think you have the right to tell me I'm destroying the company? You're no better than a cinder maid! I should return you to your ranks post haste!" Cutler flung her towards the fire place and watched as she caught herself upon the mantle. She cried out and tried to push away from the marble, to escape, but he was upon her in a flash. "My father used you to great advantage but all you've given me is trouble. I meant what I said. You should be returned to your station but for the little use you have been to me. I need to know the plots that others have on me. You'll stay here. You'll stay here and contemplate how it is you are to be useful to me when I return. When I come back, you will be docile and subservient." He grasped her jaw in his firm grip and brought her eyes to meet his. She latched onto his strong wrist and tried to break away from him. "You will do as I say Isabelle and you'll not hide from me. You'll not play the arrogant little girl, and you will do as all others employed by the company must do….follow orders. Is that understood?"

She wanted to spit in his face, she wanted to strike at him as she had struck James Norrington the Sunday past. She wished she could run from him….

"Do you understand me?" Her eyes glared daggers at him and all that she had been thinking, the hate and the anger, was communicated in that one dark gaze. Her brown doe eyes reflected black in the fire light and Cutler, for one brief moment, was slightly afraid of her. She felt it; the fear, the concern that she might not bend to his will. The smoldering spark within her began to glow more brightly. She could gain the upper hand! So focused was she on the fantasy of gaining the upper hand that she didn't notice Cutler's mood instantly darken. The back of his hand met the side of her face and she crumpled to the hearth and dared not get up.

He struck me?!

"Mr. Mercer can not remain behind as I need his formidable skills to protect this, our most valued possession." Cutler continued as he gathered the last of the documents he required and stood beside his associate. "Should you have any problems at all, Mr. Norrington will be at your disposal. If he succeeds in that, then perhaps I shall award him that commission he has set his eyes upon." Isabelle's ears were ringing. She sat beside the fire place and rested her face against the cool marble. Her face was hot where Cutler had struck her and from embarrassment. "You will also be required to go down to the office at least thee times a week to deal with business. It shall be nothing more than putting your signature to minor documents and making sure everyone is hard at work as they should be. I know you are capable of this as you often did it for father." Cutler put his traveling cloak on and picked his hat up as he looked at her still cowering beside the fire place where he had struck her down. He approached and reached a hand out to her but she shifted away. "Dear me, I am sorry for that Isabelle, but you were being so difficult…" He watched, satisfied as she closed her eyes and shuddered as he brushed his fingers gently across her jaw. "I don't want to hurt you Isabelle, but you must be taught some how…." He straightened and went to the door, followed by a smirking Mr. Mercer. "Good evening Isabelle." The door clicked shut and then she heard the secondary click of the key being turned in the lock.

She was locked in!

Isabelle let loose the first sob and tried to hold the others back. He had beaten her.

Literally and figuratively.

James Norrington arrived early at the estate of Lord Beckett. The man had sent a secretary to his lodging with a letter detailing what was required of him.

Carry out my orders now and I shall see to it that you gain an admiralty.

An admiralty would almost get rid of the shame he had brought upon himself in giving up the rank of commodore.

Almost.

He had led men to their deaths. Nothing could assuage that from his guilty conscience. And, thinking on it, he was sure that even the title of Admiral would not bring him back into Isabelle's good graces. He had been sorely sorry for the way he had treated her after church. And he was surprised when she had struck him. She had certainly regained her strength, that was something he was certain of. He smiled as he thought of the fire he had seen in her eyes when he had asked her of her dark past. He was sure there was more to this girl that he had originally been lead to believe. He just hoped she would forgive him and make his service to her simple. He knocked upon the large door and waited until it was opened.

"Mr. James Norrington." He said by way of introduction. "I was told report to the mistress of the house."

"I'll find her maid sir and have her fetched out. You may wait in the Lord's library…'tis that door just there." The man said pointing to a closed door on his right. James bowed as the man went to a hidden door in the paneling beneath the stairs and descended to the servants' quarters to fetch out Miss Beckett's maid. James tried the door indicated and found it to be locked. The small gold key turned easily and James slipped into the library. He looked around at all the books on the wall.

Some of these were probably mine… he thought darkly. Many of the possessions of his home had been put up for auction after his disappearance. He recognized the binding on several of the works, whole shelves of them in fact. He snorted derisively. Even his lordship was a pirate of sorts; pilfering books that didn't belong to him. He probably hadn't even paid for them. Cutler Beckett had probably obtained them in the name of the East India Trading Company after labeling them 'stolen goods' of a man suspected in aiding a man convicted of piracy. He turned to take in the rest of the room and stared at the painting above the mantle. It was a large portrait depicting Lord Beckett the elder. He wore a long curled wig much like that of the governor. His hand rested upon a globe and behind him, upon a wing backed chair was draped a deep midnight blue flag emblazoned with the East India Trading Company's symbol. Beyond the lord, the landscape depicted a green and lush jungle and golden sunlight. The lord looked stern, but kind—the type of man that would take no nonsense, but that was loving and giving to those who did as they were bid. Unlike the current Lord Beckett who was as cold as an arctic ice flow and just about as unyielding.

"He was nothing like Cutler."

James turned to see Isabelle standing in the doorway. She ducked her head and entered the office, taking a seat behind the large ornate desk. "How can I help you this morning, Mr. Norrington?" She folded her hands in her lap and stared at him. Her dark eyes were shadowed but she seemed fully absorbed in the moment.

"It is not I that needs assistance, milady. I come to offer my services to you." He said with a bow. He kept his eyes on her face and was relieved when she looked away, focusing instead on a space on the desk between them. Something was not right.

"First things first Mr. Norrington. My brother is Lord Beckett. My father was Lord Beckett, but I am not titled and never shall be. You, of all people, would know why." Her eyes focused on his again. He had earlier thought that she looked tired, but now was certain of the fact. The girl looked as if she hadn't slept at all. She had dark circles beneath her eyes and—was that a bruise purpling her jaw? or perhaps just a play of light and shadow in the room?

She continued speaking, her words breaking into his thoughts. "Secondly, I thank you, sir, for your kind offer. But as of this time, I don't believe I need any assistance."

"Is all well with you?"

"Yes, as well as can be expected." She answered quickly.

She had sat upon the floor of the office for some time before a servant had come in to bank the fire. They had seen her sitting at the hearth staring ahead into the darkened room. She had quickly made a retreat to her own chamber, locking the door behind her. It was there that she got the first look at what it was Cutler had done to her. Never before had he struck her, and never before had he harmed her to the point where it would leave a mark. Any bruise, mark, or accident she had she had always been able to explain away. This would not be so easy. It had taken her most of the night to concoct a lie to cover the truth. It was weak and she knew it. Anyone with half a brain would know it was a lie, but it was the best she could come up with. She rehearsed it over and over, at first in her head, playing over parts of her scenario and then aloud, as if she were reciting the lie to an inquisitive person on the streets.

"Oh yes. I'm dreadfully clumsy. I was carrying an armful of flowers into the house talking to one of the gardeners. I wasn't paying any attention to where I was going and one of the house girls, she wasn't paying attention to what was going on outside. Well, as fate would have it, she opened the door right as I was coming inside and smack right into the face. She was so mortified, but really, all I could do was laugh! Such a silly little accident!"

A horrible lie. She thought as she applied powder to the bruise in a vain effort to lighten it. Perhaps no one would notice.

"Miss Beckett, did someone strike you?" Isabelle brought her eyes quickly to meet James Norrington's. Damn him for noticing and damn him for bringing it up! He was a bigger busy body than half of the society women. Why was it he always brought up the topics she wanted to leave forgotten?

"Strike me? That's preposterous." Isabelle got up and went to retrieve a file from one of the tables around the room.

"You have a bruise, upon your face."

"It's nothing…one of the house maids and I had a collision out back." She answered distractedly. How can I make him leave? "Damn that secretary!" Isabelle suddenly burst out. "He was supposed to take this to headquarters with him this morning! Mr. Norrington, would you mind taking this to the office? See that Mr. Hudson gets it." She handed him the file and then returned to her spot behind the desk and set to work with pen and ink. Mr. Norrington stared at the file in his hand and then looked to her. "Is there a problem?" She asked when he hadn't left immediatly.

"No, Miss Beckett. I'd best be on my way." He left the office slowly, with deliberate strides. As he turned to shut the door he saw her shoulders slump as she covered her face with her hand.

Something was amiss. He was sure of it.