A/N: Okay! I definitely can't wait now! The next few chapters will be that voyage, and I'm so excited for it that I can hardly contain my excitement! I feel like Barbossa when he only had one more of those Aztec coins to gather! (Except with slightly less skeleton-ness.) Anyway, huge massive big thanks to my reviewers: ninjalover13, SunAndMoon16, Lady Elizabeth Beckett, and Miss Cuttlefish. I've also started replying to my reviews, so if you have an account, I'll definitely be replying to you! For you account-less ones, I'll try to address you in the author's note section, if you'd prefer. Anyway, enough blabber; on with the story.

Disclaimer: I don't own Pirates of the Caribbean. Neither do I own the lovely characters presented herein. Except maybe any OFCs.

Warnings: Beckett fangirling?

Chapter Seven

Misjudgment.

"Elizabeth!" came the excited cries. The two girls came frolicking over as hastily as they could. One in a sunlight-yellow dress, the other in blush-red.

"Victoria! Harriet!" Elizabeth exclaimed happily, smiling. So, they hadn't forgotten her. How pleasantly surprising! Her foul mood from last night diminished; already she had forgotten about the letter from her father. Beckett had also been busy this morning, so she had skipped the usual awkward breakfast with him. She was in such good spirit. "It's been so long," she beamed as they ran up to her, standing in the Port Royal courtyard by her.

Victoria, the one in red, grinned as she lifted her laced fan to her chin. "I never did believe those silly rumors about you being a vagabond pirate, anyway, Elizabeth. It's so nice to hear that the Lord Beckett so generously cleared up your cruelly tarnished name!"

Elizabeth's smile tightened into something that looked rather forced and stressful. Yes, she thought to herself miserably. How generous of him. But she kept on a good face. "Isn't it?" she said, fixing her smile into something more pleasant.

Harriet laughed. "Fancy that; I've also heard he's taken you into his home for now. Certainly the two of you aren't courting—?"

"No!" Elizabeth said sharply, and then paled. She had been to harsh. Laughing off the piercing remark, she said, "Of course not! He's just taking care of me until... the, um, trip."

"The trip," the two girls repeated dully.

Elizabeth nodded vigorously. "Yes, the trip. I'm being... sent off to London for the time being. To, um, recover from the loss of Will."

The girls got quiet, looking saddened. Then, Harriet finally lamented, "Oh, poor Will Turner... he was so dashing, too..."

"And talented!" Victoria piped up. "Talented and handsome."

Elizabeth blushed. "Y-yes, he was," she said nervously and quietly. Her heart beat fervently just as the thought of him. Oh, Will. Such heartache...!

"Though I do think you and the Lord Beckett wouldn't be too poor a match, either," thought Harriet aloud. "He is rich. And not too bad-looking either, though nothing like Will Turner. And he's so polite and gentlemanly, too! I doubt I've seen such good manners as his on any other person."

If only they knew, Elizabeth thought to herself wrathfully.

"And educated. And prominent! I still can't believe that he isn't even engaged to anyone yet," Victoria added in. "What with being 'Lord' now, and Chairman of the Company, as well..."

Probably because he's too heartless to love anyone besides himself, Elizabeth thought harshly. "He can come off as a little arrogant, at times," she said shortly.

The girls giggled. "Well, he's practically privileged to be a little conceited, don't you think? He's so rich, and powerful, and charming...!"

Elizabeth bit her lip. This had to be the oddest conversation she'd ever had. They clearly didn't know Beckett. Or, at least, the real Beckett. Yes, he could act like a pleasant little lord, but she knew he really wasn't that at all. If he was "intellectual," it was only to be sarcastic. If he was "charming," it was only to gain your favor. If he was "gentlemanly," it was only to earn your trust.

Oh, how dearly she wished to correct their false views of him! Yet Elizabeth knew that Harriet and Victoria would be quick to deny her. She just smiled and carried on the conversation as casually as she possibly could, but she listened more than she talked, finding their conversation more interesting without her input.

"Not to mention, my parents are trying to get the Lord Beckett to court me!" Victoria said excitedly.

Good luck with that, Elizabeth thought to herself spitefully.

Just as she was about to make a response to that, though, her open mouth dropped even further. She'd thought she was safe at this little courtyard, but apparently not!

"Good morning, Ms. Lark, Ms. June," said Beckett's voice, oddly pleasant. He walked over, hands behind his back, fingers knotted together. By his side was that cretin—Derrick Parker, looking awkward and uncomfortable.

Victoria giggled and fanned herself profusely at the fact that Beckett had addressed her first. Harriet shot her an acid glare.

"Oh, Lord Beckett! To what do I owe the pleasure of seeing you this fine Wednesday morning?" Harriet wheedled.

Beckett smiled wryly. Elizabeth blinked. That same conceited smirk, but in a different context, seemed so friendly and inviting, rather than condescending and arrogant. "I came here to evaluate Ms. Swann's condition. This is her first day out after being bedridden for so long, and I worry for her condition. She has gone through some emotional trauma due to her encounters with pirates. I hope you understand," he replied good-naturedly.

Victoria turned to Elizabeth with an impish expression. Elizabeth flushed and tapped her lightly with her fan. "It's nothing like that!" she hissed in a low voice. Then she turned back to Beckett, and smiled shyly. "U-uhm. I'm fine, Lord Beckett. You... you needn't worry yourself with me." Beckett gave a slight, curt nod.

A sinking feeling filled her chest. She had made a grave error, she realized. Earlier this morning, Elizabeth had escaped from her watching guard to meet with her friends without feeling invaded. Well, apparently that hadn't escaped Beckett, and so he'd obviously come to see her. Well, at least she wasn't trying to escape. But he'd still be very upset with her. She shot him a stare, to see if he was angry enough to have it in his cold blue eyes. But his act was so damn perfect that he looked completely normal, pleasant, complacent. Three things that should never even cross his face had defined him. And it was odd. Yet strangely good. She kind of liked it. No! No, no, NO! Banish the thought! Elizabeth thought to herself forcibly, barely suppressing a sickened shudder.

"It's quite alright, Ms. Swann," said Beckett nicely, still going along with his stupid facade. "I was merely worried. That's all."

The girls hooted and snickered. Derrick rolled his eyes. "What's with the propriety between you two all'a sudden? I thought you guys hated each other. Du'n get along at all, I thought."

Now it was Elizabeth's turn to roll eyes. Of course that nincompoop Derrick wouldn't catch on to her game with Beckett. Or maybe he had caught on, and was just trying to be disruptive. "Oh, Mr. Parker. You misunderstand. I'm so very grateful for the Lord Beckett's hospitality," Elizabeth said between her teeth.

Victoria grinned. "Lord Beckett, who is this man you've brought along with you? I'm quite curious to know!"

"Ah," said Beckett, his eyes widening just a slight. He had made a slip-up in his act, Elizabeth realized triumphantly. Although the Lord's expressions hardly changed, she had been with him and studied him long enough to know the subtle differences—how his brow slightly scrunched when he was aggravated, or how his eyes just barely widened when surprised or incredulous. How his voice lowered and became quiet when he wanted to tempt you, or how he raised his voice when he was upset, but never screamed or shouted. "My apologies for not formally introducing him sooner," Beckett continued. "This is Mr. Derrick Parker. My faithful employee within the Company."

"...'Allo," Derrick muttered, suddenly feeling rather stupid for being so brash, earlier.

The two girls giggled again. "He's much improper, but I won't doubt that he's such a handsome fellow," Harriet whispered.

Elizabeth blushed again. Complete misjudgment of character again, those two...! Steering away from the subject desperately, she said, "Lord Beckett, where do you head now? Surely you did not intend to merely find me in this courtyard."

Beckett's lips pursed. "I'm to see the state of the fleet. Supposedly, everything is all ready and prepared, although I rather doubt it, considering the failure of my men as of late." Realizing how clipped he had been, he added in a lighter tone, "I only intend to verify their claims." Months of being around only his employees and officers had left his acting skills rather dulled; he did not need to seem cultured and humble around those ingrates. He would need a bit more practice, he realized. How annoying!

Elizabeth nodded, though she did not notice Beckett's slip-up in acting. She was so used to that tone of his that it hardly even registered anymore. "And... that's why Mr. Parker was with you."

Derrick snorted. "Anyway, the Lord Beckett and I ought to get going. We'll see you lovely ladies later." The word lovely rolled off his tongue so oddly, as if he were drunken. The two men then turned, heading off towards the pier.

Victoria snickered once they were gone. "Oh, Elizabeth! Couldn't you see the concern in the Lord Beckett's eyes? I don't doubt that he eventually intends to court you!"

"Oh...!" Elizabeth flushed. Damn that Beckett for making all this mess seem so bloody intimate!

"Fancy that! Imagine: Lady Elizabeth Beckett. Doesn't sound too poor, now does it?" Harriet said with a grin. Then a fantasied look sparkled in her eyes. "Though I much prefer myself by his side."

"Oh, you two! Don't be silly! He's... simply being charitable. I doubt he's interested in me," Elizabeth retorted. "What's there of me that he would favor, anyway?"

'Well..." the two of them drawled, drawing out the word as long as they possibly could. Elizabeth held her breath; she knew that they were just about to recite a massive list.

"You're beautiful, intelligent, polite, and lovely—"

"Jolly good fun, real inspirational, a great conversationalist—"

"Oh, stop it, you two!" Elizabeth said, cutting off Harriet. She looked down at her feet, fanning herself heavily. Was she blushing because she didn't want to admit something, or...? No! That was just disgusting! The idea of her liking Beckett repulsed her so much that she ought to throw up over the rail. "It... it's not true. Really!"

The girls were quiet, surprised at Elizabeth's intense modesty. (They clearly knew nothing about her. Nor about anyone. Horrible character judges, those two.) Then Victoria said a little awkwardly, "Um, we ought to get home, now, Elizabeth. It's already past noon! Oh, how quickly time flies by!" Harriet and Victoria briskly left the courtyard, heading towards their homes.

Elizabeth stood there for a few minutes, unable to muster up proper words—though she was the only one who would ever even hear them. Sighing, defeated, she headed back towards the estate.

"Ms. Swann. Permit me to ask just why you felt it necessary to abandon your watch-guard in order to merely meet with your acquaintances?" Beckett interrogated icily. "Or were their ulterior motives on your part... until I intervened?"

Elizabeth quietly nibbled at the chicken. Yet another awkward, quiet dinner, though the last few days had not been too awful—they had managed to strike up decent conversations, and she had seen a more pleasant side of Beckett, though there was so much Beckett that it was still Beckett to her, and in the end, she had a bad taste in her mouth, no matter how good the pot roast was. Still, it seemed that today's dinner would not be as pleasant.

Beckett, realizing he wouldn't get an answer, lowered his voice to a threatening level. "I have been graciously taking care of you, Ms. Swann. And I expect some gratitude in return for my... charity. Now, what were you planning?" he said acidly, annunciating each word placidly as he always did when irritated. Not a single syllable skipped, each consonant pronounced perfectly, yet no word lingered upon for too long. A breezy style of speaking, yet slow enough to leave impressions on one's mind.

She put down her fork. "What are you planning, acting all sweet in public? We both know your true nature," she responded indignantly.

Beckett put down his wine glass. "It's all a matter of propriety, Ms. Swann. See, unlike you, I know well the expectations of the commonwealth society. Acting mannered and generous in public is just... good business." He paused, and then said, "And as Chairman of the Company, I have a public image that I must uphold."

Elizabeth looked down at her plate after he was done speaking. For some reason, he always made her feel childish and irrational.

"And now that I have addressed your inquiry," Beckett droned on lazily, "I would like an answer to mine."

"Well," Elizabeth stammered, and then corrected her verbal blunder. "...I wasn't planning on doing anything, if that's what you're insinuating. Truly. I just appreciate privacy, that's all. And I highly dislike the idea of your men stalking me around everywhere like my dogged shadow."

Beckett paused, considering her words. "Hm" was his only reply. He then resumed his dainty eating. All mannered and silent.

Elizabeth ate like a savage. And enjoyed it.

The dinghy slowly, sluggishly made its way to the docks. People stared, watched, but Captain Teague—oh, sorry, Mister Griffiths hardly minded the attention. It had been years since he'd dared venture too far from Shipwreck Cove, but circumstances had changed. His life's safety had never been compromised this far. Yet he wasn't scared. He'd been through it all. And just like that, he always came out top dog. And he'd always have extra room to spare for Jackie.

Stepping onto the docks, he began to head off to Port Royal, but a man stopped him. "Hold on, sir. It's one shilling and a name to tie ship here."

Teague turned and looked at his dinghy. A large hole had been punched into the sail, and it was a little tilted, but a "ship" nonetheless. Turning to the man, he pulled out a single shilling and said gruffly, "John Griffiths."

The man nodded, writing down the name. "Very well then, Mr. Griffiths. Welcome to Port Royal."

Teague tipped his cap and strolled on down the streets. Donning some wine-colored clothes, he looked quite normal, if not for his stand-out skin color and offish hair (including the beard/dreadlocks set). He made his way through the bustling roads; already the streets had recovered from Beckett's tyranny. Despite his mass hanging earlier in the months, the people had eventually figured out that if you had nothing to do with piracy at all, he didn't bother you. And anyway, after the song had been sung and all that, Beckett didn't see much a point to be wasting time fetching would-be pirates anymore. Overall, Port Royal was back to normal. And Beckett was just another classy little British lord.

But Teague never really was one for "normal."

He careened through the alleyways and briskly headed towards the docks where he knew the EITC's fleet was sitting around. He had to see it for himself. The Pearl, he meant. He had heard from the pirates that the Endeavour had not completely torn down the Pearl, instead choosing to spare it. And most likely have it for later use.

Teague turned one last corner before his eyes feasted upon the massive oceans. His brows furrowed together as he saw the massive fleet in its glory—and the Black Pearl.

It was beautiful. Never before had Teague seen a ship so hauntingly gorgeous. They had replaced her torn sails, but kept the trademark black hue. The hull was gilded with pearly silver, and the cannons were neatly polished. The figurehead—a woman (a wicked wench, actually)—had been cleaned and re-painted into something that was far less rusted and grimy. It was still the Black Pearl. But it was also the HMS Pearl—a fresh-off-the-line Company ship. Royal, rich, ravish. And yet so rogue. It stood out from the other ships, despite its dark color. The silver complimented it nicely; a nice change from the selection of golds and blues in the Company and Navy ships.

Teague tore his eyes from it. He couldn't just stand there and stare. Just as he veered to the left to exit the docks, two soldiers came running up in his path.

"This dock is off-limits to civilians," said Murtogg and Mullroy nervously.

A/N: And our favorite clowns make a reappearance. XD Anyway, I was so sorry about the slow update last time that I decided to make this one abnormally quick-quick! I'm sorry we still haven't embarked yet... I promise it will be soon? Ah, well. I have to be patient! Beckett would yell at me if he saw me so impatient and giddy. 8D Anyways, I hope my depiction of Teague is alright with you all. He's always been this really cool character to me (the fact that he is Keith Richards aside, please), and I wanted to give him a more prominent role in this story as... John Griffiths. Yeah, kill me, I'm bad at coming up with names.

Next chapter, I'm positive we're going to embark. I know we will. You've all permission to virtually punch me if we don't. Anyways, drop a review! And thanks so much for reading!