Isabelle listened with disdain as the ship builders returned to give an accurate update on the progress of the Endeavor. Mercer's men had certainly made an impression and kept the builders to task since their erroneous report on the ship's progress more than two months before. An unusually dry spell of weather had also aided the work being done. The men left soon after, their fear, which hung about them like a pungent poultice following them.

"Were they honest this time?" Cutler asked as Isabelle stared at the closed library door. It was a question he had repeated since her first report to him on the status of the ship.

"Quite honest." She answered flatly. "They might even be able to launch the Endeavor earlier than they told you. As soon as the sailcloth and cables arrive, she'll be fully rigged and ready to sail."

"Isabelle, dearest, what is the matter?" Cutler rose from his desk and came to stand before her. He placed his hands upon her shoulders and sighed. "You seem so put off of late. Why? Has someone angered you? Has something been said at market or at church?"

"No. Nothing."

"That's good. I'd hate for you to carry your anger to the Admiral's acceptance party."

"Acceptance party? What acceptance party?" Isabelle asked through narrow eyes. "When is this?"

"I could not have forgotten….surely I told you?"

"Told me what?" Isabelle was growing weary of his games. She knew he wanted her to read what it was he was hiding from her. He wanted her to go after it, to use her gift to seek it out, to plumb his mind for the information she desired. It was a test. She could do it, that would be easy, but she did not know with what else that information would come; far safer to let him tell her.

"Why Isabelle, can't you tell? Tell me, what am I thinking?"

"I won't do it. I'm quite tired and don't feel up to it at the moment. This power is not a play thing to be used at will." Cutler's eyes darkened like the sky during a hurricane.

"You'll do what I tell you, when I tell you."

"No I won't." Isabelle had had it. For weeks she'd been kept in the dark, for weeks she'd been doing mundane tasks, and for months Cutler had used and abused her and her gift. Now he was angry, not only had she denied him, but she'd used the word 'power,' something that he wanted all of. She felt as if iron had been poured into her spine and she stood tall in front of him. "I told you I'm tired."

"Very well, since you're feeling ill, Admiral Norrington will be officially commissioned as a Company agent next Friday. It is to be the social event of the summer."

"I shall have to have Ann help me in altering a dress. I do wish you had told me sooner, I might have been able to have one made before this event."

"No need, I've already had one made for you." Isabelle saw joy in his eyes, joy that came from knowing that Isabelle was right where he wanted her. "I suppose it will have to be a surprise."

"As you wish." Isabelle curtsied and fled the room as fast as she could. She went out into the garden and fell to her knees beside a bench beneath an arbor. She closed her eyes and breathed deeply of the fragrant spring air, the scents of damp, clean earth and tropic flowers helping to calm her rattled nerves. In the past six months it had become harder and harder to fight off Cutler's rising emotions. His stress was becoming her stress and she did not know how to deal with it all. She looked at a fern nodding in the soft breeze and focused on the lady bug crawling across the plant's broad leaf. The bug took flight and she continued to stare at it as it flitted into the deeper jungle. She wished that she could take off so easy and disappear. That would save so many of her problems.

The week slipped by slowly and the evening of the gala Isabelle sat in her room waiting with a servant.

"What dress shall you be wearing miss?" The girl asked.

"I don't know. My brother said it was to be a surprise." Isabelle stared into her mirror and combed out the end of her long hair. It was starting to pick up some of the natural highlights from being in the sun. Her hair wasn't yellow anymore, but gold, wheat, honey and a few strands here and there of blazing copper.

"And so it is." Isabelle pulled her robe shut and stood as Cutler came into the room. He had chosen a wine colored coat over a black and wine waist coat. A black silk cravat spilled black lace from his throat and the white lace of his shirt was just visible beneath the wide cuffs of the coat. He wore black breeches and white hose; the buckles of his shoes shone in the lamp light. Isabelle curtsied briefly and looked to the man behind him who stared stonily at the wall beyond her. "Your gown…" The man stepped forward and presented a box to Isabelle's servant who looked from her mistress to his Lordship, wondering what she was to do. Isabelle strolled forward and opened the box to reveal her gown. She turned to see Cutler's catlike grin, his eyes piercing her skin.

"You can't expect me to wear this?" Isabelle gestured at the box and approached him.

"Why, sister, you do not like it? I thought it quite lovely…."

"I do appreciate the thought, but I can not be seen in such garb. Cutler what is the meaning of this?" Isabelle felt the atmosphere of the room change the way the air did before a brutal storm. She shivered and pulled the thin material of her dressing gown closer across her chest, but she would not break his gaze.

"Mariah, Joshua---leave." Cutler's tone left nothing to be argued and the maid lay the box upon the chest at the foot of Isabelle's bed and scuttled out. Cutler's man shut the door with a soft click. Isabelle knew that any decorum that had been shown was now gone and both servants had their ears pressed against the doors in the hopes of hearing something juicy to share below the stairs. "How dare you?"

"How dare you!?" Isabelle shot back. "How can you expect me to go to the social event of the year wearing this?!?" She lifted the gown from box to reveal what looked to be the blue and gold of a company jacket. The skirt and bodice were also company colors from what she could see.

"You'll wear it and you'll say nothing about it. You are a company employee Isabelle. It's time you start dressing like one." Cutler turned on his heel but stopped short when he heard her fling the garment in her hands back in the box.

"I will not go. You'll tell everyone how dreadfully sorry I am not to be able to attend." Cutler moved amazingly quick and gripped her by the throat in a matter of seconds. She grasped his wrist in her hands, but felt what little strength she had drain from her body.

"You will not give orders to me, Isabelle. You will do as you're told and you will do it post haste or I will see to it that you won't want to leave this house for a month. I'll also see to it that your precious allowance is ceased as you will be unable to do any work." Isabelle's eyes widened. "Oh yes Isabelle, I'm fully aware of your charitable work in the town. You think I don't know that you've been feeding these miscreants? Have you forgotten the raid last summer?"

"I haven't forgotten." Isabelle whispered. "But I won't forget the children either." Cutler shoved her away from him and watched as she grasped her own throat to protect it from further bruising.

"What is it going to be Isabelle, the gala? Or a ceasing of your charity?" He watched as Isabelle stood up and glared at him with hate filled eyes.

"I'll go. But I won't like it." Cutler stormed from the room. She heard a shriek from her maid as he surprised the two servants standing at the door.

"Get her ready and be quick about it!" The maid trotted into the room and looked at where Isabelle stood at the mirror, staring at the slight bruises beginning to form on her neck.

"Miss?"

"You heard his Lordship. Help get me dressed." The girl helped Isabelle with layering petticoats over the wood and bone frame that would hold her skirts out into a fashionable bell. The girl smoothed the navy skirt so it lay smooth and flat and drifted against the Turkish carpet she knelt upon. The front of the dress contained a panel of golden colored brocade that glittered in the lamplight. The bodice was a sleeveless affair of a goldenrod color and low cut to show the swell of her breasts. The coat went over the whole affair and was cut so as to be fashionable upon the frame of a woman, but blatantly imitated the coats worn by East India Marines. A wide saffron colored sash hung from her waist and the tasseled ends of it hung down beneath the tails of the coat which was heavy with gold braid. Isabelle's long blonde hair was pulled back into a simple long ponytail and tied with a large black ribbon. Her maid curled the ends of the tail so that it was far more feminine and dressier than a simple tie back.

"Miss, what be that on your neck?" Isabelle looked into the mirror and turned her head in spite of the pain it caused her. She could see the place where Cutler's thumb had dug into her pale skin. The bruise was faint, but it would darken and it was obviously noticeable.

"Fetch me a navy colored ribbon and my jewel box." Isabelle said distractedly as she powdered her neck carefully. The maid brought the items and Isabelle quickly found a small broach and pinned it to the center of the ribbon which she then tied about her neck. The golden colored gem flickered in the light and perfectly matched her bodice, gold filigree around it picked up the accents of the gold braid upon the coat and hem of her skirt.

"My, but you do look grand miss." The girl said stepping back to allow Isabelle to sweep past her.

"I look like a fool." Isabelle said as she turned back to take one last look in the mirror. "I'll be the laughing stock of the town after this."

"Oh miss, I don't think it'll be as all bad as that." Isabelle turned dark, angry eyes on the poor servant that instantly silenced her. "Sorry miss. It wasn't my place."

"You're right, it wasn't. Good evening. I shall wake you if I need your assistance this later."

"Yes ma'am." The girl curtsied as Isabelle swept from the room and down the stairs to the library.

Cutler looked up from his files as his adopted sister burst into the library. He smiled for the second time seeing her barely concealed anger dance upon her smooth features. He had had the dress made especially to show her her place and she was obviously not pleased with the situation.

"My, but you do look fine, Isabelle my dear."

"Thank you my lord, your kindness is over whelming."

"Don't be like that Isabelle. It doesn't suit you." Isabelle waited as he approached her. She felt trapped, she should have left long ago; run away from him and never looked back, but she had so hoped that he would change. She was beginning to come to terms with how twisted he was and how deeply seated it was. He stopped before her and tipped her chin up so her brown eyes met his cold gray ones. "You must be on your best behavior this evening. Do you understand?"

"Yes."

"Do you? Really, I don't want you overshadowing the Admiral's return to the ranks of the privileged." He leaned in so his mouth was close to her ear. "But as your attire insinuates, you are on duty this evening. Anything of import, you are to bring directly to me. Do not fail me Isabelle." He smiled again as he went past her into the foyer where he took up his cane and hat from the butler and led Isabelle into the bright starry night.

Isabelle felt every eye in the room on her as she entered the foyer of the governor's mansion. Governor Swann was on the stairs leading up to the bed chambers and was speaking to someone that Isabelle didn't recognize. She followed Cutler to the ball room and tried to ignore the thoughts that swirled around the room.

"What is she wearing?"

"Ha, how clever, she looks like an East India agent."

"I wouldn't be caught dead in a gown so hideous…"

"I wouldn't go far from the confines of the Governor's mansion dressed in that…."

Isabelle stuck her chin out, squared her shoulders and made to move down the stairs. Cutler grasped her arm in a painful grip and hissed in her ear.

"Remember, anything of use." He stared pointedly at her as she moved away from him and hoped to get lost in the swirling crowd of the governor's ball room.

She picked up a flute of champagne from a passing waiter and sipped at the sparkling wine. She dearly wished she could down it in one great gulp but knew she could and should not. She had blocked out the entire room from her consciousness and felt remarkably numb. Occasionally something battered at her senses, as one would batter against a fortress one might be trying to seize, but she was impervious to it. She'd stand up to Cutler the only way she knew how, by not gathering any information for him. She sipped again at her drink and then saw Governor Swann make his way to an elevated platform from which he could speak. He raised his arms and waited as a ripple of excitement passed through the packed room. Isabelle felt ready to swoon; the smell of sweat and too much of too many different perfumes assaulted her nostrils and she moved towards an open window.

"I'd like to welcome you all this evening to my home. It is good to see so many fresh and happy faces. This place has been empty for far too long." The feeling of sadness and worry for his daughter coming from the governor threatened to overwhelm her. She wanted to leave. "We are gathered here for the auspicious occasion of welcoming an old friend of ours back from a dark period in his life. This man gave much of himself in the service of King and country, and now, having retired from the military life, finds that he is suited to little else."

"Except rum." The thought was born around the room like a song sung in a round. Isabelle shook her head to clear it.

"Mr. Norrington solicited his services to Lord Beckett and I'm happy to formally announce that he accepted this man's aid. I'm very pleased to present to everyone, Mr.—I mean, Admiral—James Norrington." Isabelle saw Admiral Norrington step up to the platform beside the governor, to whom he bowed. Isabelle knew that in fact the governor was not pleased to announce that James had elevated himself from Kings Navy Commodore to Trading Company Admiral in little less than a year. She also knew he was not happy with being pressed into work as a Trading Company puppet from his lofty status of King's Governor. A ripple of polite applause raced around the room and Isabelle joined in. She saw her brother join the two other men on the platform and smile. There were whispered threats and imaginings of someone assassinating her brother. She tried to find out who it might be. Then she remembered how angry she was at Cutler and realized that a bullet would end many of her problems.

"You can't think like that! For all the harm he has ever done you, you owe him and his father a great debt. This is your penance for years of a privileged life."

Isabelle danced with a few men but for the most part everyone avoided her. That suited her quite well. She was speaking with one of the merchants' wives when she saw someone approach from her peripheral.

"Ah! Admiral! I was so hoping I might catch your ear this evening. I did so want to congratulate you on your status personally." The woman said as she extended her hand towards James Norrington. Isabelle turned her eyes from them and scanned the room. "You're a drunk and a fool. You lost your commission from the King in an act of foolishness. Even a rank such as Admiral makes you unfit to shine my son's boots." Isabelle stared at the woman as she laughed up into James' face at some witty remark he'd just made. James brushed his lips across the back of the woman's hand and looked over at Isabelle. The stricken look upon her face seemed odd.

"Miss Beckett, it is good to see you as well. You look…wonderful this evening."

"You look as if you were dressed to match me at a Grande Bal Masque." Isabelle smiled at the errant thought that skipped through the annals of her brain. It would not have been funny, save for the fact she'd thought the same thing.

"Yes, you look well yourself Mr. Norrington." She laughed, a hollow sound to her own ears. "I mean Admiral! My, I shall have to do much better at remembering your title now!"

"Mrs. Marshall, I was so hoping I might steal Miss Beckett from your side that I might share the next dance with her." He said smiling again at the Merchant. "Do you mind at all?"

"Heaven's no!'

"And be rid of you both? I'd leap at the chance!" Isabelle narrowed her eyes at the vile woman she'd been speaking with and placed her hand into James Norrington's gloved one.

"Thank you Mrs. Marshall. Have a wonderful evening." Isabelle was swept out to the floor and slipped easily into the formation.

"You do look lovely this evening." James whispered to her as they came together for a brief moment. She had to twirl and twist through the footwork with another and then came back to stand beside James.

"I look like a fool. Lord Beckett is trying to show me my place." They were separated again and when they came back together she smiled. "No matter. I shall just have to grin and bear it."

"Are you well?" She nodded but they were separated for the final time before she came to stand back before him and she curtsied low. He quickly caught her upper arm and whispered "Go along with me." She looked up at him questioningly. "Come Miss Beckett….you just need some fresh air."

"Oh…oh yes, some air…" She waved her hand before her face and acted somewhat faint as she let James guide her through the crowd that pressed around them. She lowered her defenses for a moment and lighted on both Cutler and Mercer's consciousnesses in the gentleman's parlor. They would not care that she and the Admiral were taking the air. They exited into the moon-washed garden and the admiral finally let go of her arm. They turned down one of the well manicured paths and went around the corner of the house. A passing waiter held a tray with several flutes of champagne and Admiral Norrington grabbed two before the servant went back inside.

"Miss Beckett." He said handing her one of the glasses.

"Thank you." Isabelle sipped at her drink and looked up at James Norrington as he knocked back half of the drink in one swig. "You're not enjoying yourself." She said with a grin as she sipped her drink again.

"How could you tell?" He said, a crooked grin twisting the side of his face. He would not even deny it.

"Call it an intuition." She smiled. "And how could you tell that I needed to take the air?"

"Call it an intuition." He parroted. "You look well."

"Better than I was…now that I'm away from those…dunces." She waved an arm dismissively towards the mansion where the sound of the string quartet spilled across the lawns. "I should not speak so. This is your great return to society! You don't need me to act the dead weight and drag you down."

"I'd rather spend an evening drug down by you than with these flippant popinjays." Isabelle looked up at him and had to quickly look away lest he suspect something. "As you said, I'm not enjoying myself at all." Laughter drew near and James led Isabelle quickly down a darkened path away from the windows and the main path.

"What are you doing? Where are you taking me?" He stopped in the shadows and looked down at her. He could only barely make out her silhouette, the gold braid illuminated in the dull torchlight coming from the house. He looked much the same to her, a silhouette highlighted by gold braid that reflected in the torchlight. He was silent for a moment and then he grasped her hand in his. "I have not seen you since the day I gave my deposition to your brother and his lawyers. He sent me to England shortly after that. Tell me, are you truly well?"

"Why do you keep asking that?" She hissed back up at him.

"Because I can see in your eyes that something is wrong. That you're aggravated by something or someone." He sighed heavily. "I'd hate to think that in being gone so long I'd lost you as a friend."

She didn't know what to do or say. For the first time she truly realized that she had been angry at James. He had left her, without so much as a 'by your leave.' He had gone to England, leaving her to fend for herself in Port Royal, and had never once sent her a letter. She'd been jealous, the day of his return, when she'd seen him outside the church speaking with the other ladies. She had believed he'd abandoned her, she had not realized how much she truly depended on him. But now she felt her heart soar and she smiled in spite of herself. What a relief!

"Is that what you're worried about?" She smiled and he could see her white, even teeth flash in the darkness. "Why, for heavens sake! I thought it was I who had lost you as a friend. I hadn't heard from you….and now…well--I just haven't been myself lately."

"Thank goodness." He smiled too. "Not that you've been out of sorts, but that we're still friends. I know none of them are true friends. The governor will hardly acknowledge me as he once did."

"Isabelle!!!" Isabelle sighed and grasped James' hands.

"We need to get back."

"Yes. I wish we could speak more." He whispered as they moved back up the gravel path. He stopped abruptly. "One last question though before we return to the doldrums."

"Yes?"

"Why did you choose that dress? Not that you don't look stunning, but it's not exactly up to par with your usual good taste."

"Ugh, this?" She stopped and grasped a handful of the heavy navy velvet. "Cutler chose it. Believe me, this is not my first choice in attire. He thought it a very great surprise and a wonderful present." She heard him laugh. She would not tell him about the fight. Domestic arguments were best kept behind closed doors. They continued until they could just make out Lord Beckett's frame in a pool of light spilling from the ball room.

"There you are, dear. Come, I wish to lead you out in the next dance."

"Of course my Lord." James Norrington squeezed her hand for one brief moment and watched as she allowed Lord Beckett to lead her back into the ball room.

The overwhelming feeling that something was not right bore down on him as he watched them walk away. He had thought he'd seen bruises on her throat and even now he thought she staggered as Lord Beckett grasped her arm.

Something was still not right in the Beckett household.