Authoress' Note: I hope everyone is having a blessed Easter however you spend it, and I hope you enjoy this next chapter. If you don't mind me saying so, I think it has some of the best dialogue I've ever written. All characters © Disney – Just because I haven't stated that in a while. Don't forget to review when your done reading!

The First Regrets

I follow Elizabeth with my eyes as she paces back and forth across her bedroom floor. I have not been in this room since marrying, and it is amazing to me how much it has changed. With Elizabeth's arrival it was no longer dominated by mismatched furniture covered with dusty white sheets, but was instead turned into her own separate living quarters. I vaguely remember it being used for perhaps six months after our marriage, until one night Elizabeth lay down beside me in the bed we share now, citing that the room down the corridor was much too big for one person. She has not used it for anything but a walk in cupboard since.

The room, which was once sparsely filled, now houses more dresses, feathers, and shoes than I have ever laid eyes on. They hang from every possible nook and cranny, leaving no space for any other furniture besides the stately bed in the centre of the room whose linens lie forever folded down for someone to sleep in.

My wife sighs, bring me back to the present, and I stare as she holds up a pair of gold earrings and then pearls for the fifth or sixth time. Suddenly, she turns to me and holds both pairs up for me to view. "Which one?" she asks.

I shrug nonchalantly. "You look beautiful either way," I say.

Impatiently she turns her back on me, and gazes at the two dangling sets in the mirror. "You may scoff," she snaps, her jaw rigid, "but at least I'm not dressed as though he's already dead."

I look down at my attire. She is right. Perhaps I shouldn't have worn the black cravat and the black waistcoat. "Shall I change into something more suitable?" I ask, standing up from my place on the bed.

She turns then, catching my arm before I can leave. "No, that's all right. I'm sorry, James. I didn't mean to be harsh with you. Everything seems to be going badly as of late, you know?"

She turns back toward the mirror, unclasps the gold earrings and slips on the pearl. Turning her head from side to side she allows a slight smile to curl the corners of her lips upward. "There, perfect. Father will appreciate these more I think. They were Mother's after all."

I stand up again, placing my broad hands on her thin-framed shoulders. She looks up at my reflection in the mirror and places her own hands atop mine. "He will be comforted to see you no matter what you wear, my dear. You are his only daughter after all, and I daresay he has missed you greatly since I took you away."

She nods, sobered by my words, and without another look in the mirror she leaves the room. I follow, my hands clasped behind my back and my mouth set in a rather grim line.

---

Charlotte, a servant woman Elizabeth has known since childhood, leads us up the front staircase of the Governor's mansion and down the corridor. The rooms to either side of us are darkened under the doorway except the one we stop at. A faint flickering of firelight creeps from underneath spilling out onto the carpeted floor where we stand waiting.

"The Governor asked to see his daughter first," she says, holding her candelabra aloft, "You may wait here, Commodore."

I nod, understanding, and step back to rest against the wall. Elizabeth glances at me fleetingly before entering the room. The door shuts with a dull thud behind her. Charlotte clears her throat, and I glance up at her.

"Would you like something to drink, Sir?" she asks, "Perhaps some whiskey or a glass of wine?"

I shake my head. "That's all right, Charlotte. Thank you."

She bobs a curtsy, and I listen intently as her muffled footsteps fade into the distance. The silence is suppressing, but not for long. Soon enough I hear snippets of conversation leak from underneath the door. Deep in my heart I know it to be a breach of trust to listen in, but I cannot help it. I find myself desiring to know what is being said in my absence.

Rattling breath and a wracking cough. "You look so much like your mother my dear," the Governor says. There is silence again followed by Elizabeth's soothing voice, "I do not remember her, Papa." There is a slight shifting and rustling of skirts. "Yes, you wouldn't. She died shortly after your birth. I missed her terribly for far too long. That's why I wanted us to come to Jamaica. I needed to escape more than anything else."

The Governor coughs loudly again, and Elizabeth speaks again. "I had no idea, Papa. You never said a word about it."

I hear a whistling sigh. "I did not want to burden you with such things, my love. You were young, with your whole childhood still ahead of you. My only concern was your happiness and health, both of which you have been blessed with."

More silence greets this revelation, and suddenly Elizabeth bursts into tears, her sobs muffled slightly through the door. The bed creaks, and in my mind's eye I imagine Governor Swann reaching out to put his arms around his grieving daughter.

"There now," he says gently, "Do not mourn for me. I may make a recovery yet, and even if I do not, I am old. I have lived a good, full life. We are not meant to live forever you know."

Elizabeth manages a hiccupping laugh through her tears, and again I can imagine the Governor's reassuring smile. He seems to know every right word to be said.

"James is a fine man, Elizabeth," the Governor says after a brief coughing spell. I consider pulling away then, unsure of whether I want to listen anymore or not. "You are a good match, and I must tell you how very proud I am of you to have made it thus far."

His choice of words sound as though he is preparing Elizabeth for some sort of race or fight for survival, and I hope more than anything that our life together has been more than that. "You will grow to love him in time. There now. What a lovely smile! You do love him, don't you?"

I strain to hear an answer, an affirmation of what I have been hoping to be true for so long, but Elizabeth's response is not audible. "It started much the same way with your mother and I," Governor Swann continues his voice lost in that realm of remembering, "but, it seems that just as I really began to realise what I had gained. . . I lost her."

Elizabeth sniffs loudly, and I know she is crying for the lost mother she never knew. Again there is a shift of weight on the bed mattress and then, "Do not make the same mistake I did, my daughter. You are young, and you have your whole life ahead of you. Do not waste time dwelling on the past and what could have been."

The muffled sobs subside, softer more genteel words are exchanged that I cannot hear, and I move hastily away from the wall as Elizabeth's footsteps near the door once again. She opens it to find me staring out of the window, hands clasped behind my back, feigning interest in a bird hopping about on the branches of the tree outside. She hesitates before closing the door behind her.

"He wishes to speak with you."

I nod in acknowledgment and open the painted wood door, step inside, and shut it gently behind me. I can feel the Governor's eyes on my back, burning a hole directly to my soul. That is how it always seems to be with those who have lived for so long. They have a certain wisdom and omniscience that, if tangible, would pierce directly into ones heart. Governor Swann is no different, and I turn to face him with a steady gaze.

Contentment radiates from his very being as he sits upon his bed, the linens drawn up about him, and numerous pillows propped behind him. There is no doubt that he sick. His hands, which should lies still in his lap, seem to move of their own accord, fluttering this way and that though he clasps them in an effort to exude serenity. His breathing is a struggle of its own. Each breath rattles in, shaking his very bones, and is borne outward in a wheezing sigh.

I take off my hat respectfully, and move to his bedside. He looks up at me with those paled blue eyes, so unlike Elizabeth's. "You are more than appropriately dressed, James," he says, and I blanch slightly, embarrassed. He chuckles and wheezes hoarsely, covering his mouth with an embroidered handkerchief. "Come now, James, I'm a dying man. You must humour me."

I am unsure how to respond, and the Governor senses my discomfort. "Sit down, James," he says, "There's no point in standing on formalities at a time like this."

I nod, swallowing hard, and lower myself to a position next to him on the edge of the bed. A vague memory surfaces in my mind of having been in such a place before, many years ago when my own father died. Governor Swann sits up a little straighter.

"Now then, as I said, I do not expect to live much longer. In fact, there would probably need to be a miracle in order for me to remain amongst all of you much longer," the Governor chooses his words carefully, glancing at me every once in a while to make sure that I comprehend each thing he says. "You are probably wondering why I have called you here, James."

"Yes, Sir," I say, forgetting the rule about no formalities. The Governor raises an eyebrow.

He is silent for a moment, contemplating something as he stares at some fixed point across the room. "I have many regrets, " he whispers, and I lean closer to hear him. "I spent more time politicking than with my family, and I never told my wife that I loved her." He sighs. "That is my chief regret, and I have done all I can to make up for it by loving my daughter. She is the only thing I have left in this world, James, and I fear I have not done enough."

I shake my head. "Sir, you have done more than enough. You- "

"No," he says forcefully, cutting me off mid-sentence. "You do not understand. For some time I have felt that I forced my daughter into marrying you. I forbid her true love for the sake of propriety and convenience. You have no idea how guilty I felt for doing such a thing to her. I had made so many mistakes before, and now, I thought at the time, here I am, making these same mistakes again."

A knot of anxiety forms in my stomach, and a stifling sense of foreboding falls over the room. This conversation is not going in the direction I had expected. The Governor sees the confliction upon my face, yet he continues with his onslaught.

"I knew that you loved her from the beginning, and I knew that no matter how much she spurned you, you would still love her. That knowledge is what caused me the most pain. Not only had I condemned my daughter, I had also placed her in the hands of someone who would genuinely love her, but would never be loved in return. That thought burned me, for now I had condemned two lives and not one."

I stand up then, unable to sit near this man who has lain bare such an intimate part of my life. My face burns with shame, and each word cuts at my skin like the lash of the whip. His voice has grown louder with emotion, and all of a sudden it drops to a soft whisper again. I remain standing apart from him, my breathing heavy, and the urge to hit something, anything, still coursing through my veins.

"Yet, here I am, as content as I could ever be, because of Elizabeth and because of you." He smiles, and the coils in my stomach relax slightly. I unclench my hands. "You are not the same man who married my daughter, and she is not the same woman. You have been through more together than I think either of you could have imagined, and yet you remain faithful. You did not make the mistakes I did by rushing into that societal norm called family. You waited, James. You waited, and thus gained Elizabeth's respect, and now her love."

My face must be contorted into some manner of surprise because Governor Swann laughs a bit before continuing, "Yes, James, she does love you. She said it to me, albeit a bit tearfully, but she does."

"Yes," I say, almost breathless, anticipating more. All the previous hurt I had felt has dissipated and has been replaced by a giddiness that I cannot seem to control.

"You must promise me this," Governor Swann says, and I sit down again, trying to control myself, unafraid now to take his wrinkled hands in mine. There is a closeness here that I have never felt before even with my own father. "Promise me that you will continue to be patient with her. She will tell you of her feelings in her own time, and I cannot promise that time will be soon considering the circumstances. Mourn with her, love her, and help her move on. She will need your unwavering love in the coming months."

I nod numbly, not trusting myself enough to speak. The Governor pats my hands gently, and lets them go.

"You have a bright future ahead of yourselves," he says, "And though I am doubtless the way will be easy, you will have each other and I know that will be enough. I could not be happier to leave my daughter with such a man as yourself, James."

"Thank you, Sir," I say breathlessly, joy expanding in my chest, "I will not disappoint you."

"I know," Governor Swann replies, giving me a twinkling smile. He settles back in his pillows, and I know then that my audience is over. Jamming my hat back on my head I stride to the door with renewed vigour and am so full of energy that I forget to shut the door quietly as I leave.

Elizabeth's brow is knit with worry. "Is something the matter?" she whispers, slipping her arm through mine as we make our way back down the corridor. "I heard raised voices."

My voice sounds sinfully cheerful, as I reply, "No, nothing is the matter at all."

---

I lay my head against the pillows, letting my hands rest on top of the down coverlet. A lone candle flickers from its place on the side table casting Elizabeth's silhouette onto the opposite wall. She licks her finger and turns the page of her book, her eyes darting back and forth across the page. She has been terribly quiet since our visit to her father, saying nothing about what transpired between the two nor asking what happened between her father and myself. I watch her intently, realising after a few minutes that she has stopped reading. With a dull thud she closes her book, and sets it lightly on the table beside her. I turn over on my side waiting for her to blow out the candle to plunge us into darkness. It has been a long day, and my eyes are heavy with the anticipation of sleep.

Elizabeth shifts beside me, and the light does not go out. I turn back over to ask what the matter is and am greeted by her small form sitting upright, her arms hugging her knees to her chest. She looks at me, resting her cheek on her knee, and I sit up, puzzled.

"What are you thinking of?" I ask, recognising the look of her furrowed brow and clouded eyes.

She lifts her head, looks away from me, and then rests her chin on her arms. "I have so many regrets, James."

Today seems to be full of them.

"What is it?"

"I was thinking today, when we were visiting Father, how short life is. How it should not be wasted."

I nod, my mouth suddenly dry. Seeing my face she continues hastily, "I do not mean to say that my life with you has been wasted. I only wish that…" her voice lowers as she trails off into silence. I sit up, and lift her chin with my hands to face me.

"Speak," I say quietly, "You do not have to fear voicing your regrets. Perhaps they can be mended even now."

Elizabeth nods and swallows before speaking again. "I wish we'd had children, James, before my father dies. Somehow I feel as though I have let him… and you, down in that respect."

She chooses her words carefully, and stares at me, waiting for a reply, waiting for something. My mouth is ridiculously dry, and I have no idea what to say. Today has been a day full of surprises, and thinking at a time such as this seems impossible. Elizabeth continues to wait. I clear my throat. "You should not regret such a thing, Elizabeth. It can be easily remedied you know, and your father is not gone from us yet. He is sick, yes, but there is still a chance that he will make a recovery." I am speaking much too fast, and Elizabeth begins to laugh suddenly.

"What? I'm being serious!" I cry, bristling slightly.

"I know," she says, "I know. You sound so sincere, and I want to believe everything you say is true."

"But it can be," I whisper, "We are young. There is time."

The laughter freezes in midair, and she looks down at her clasped hands, her face flushed. I place my hand against her cheek, turning her face toward me. Our lips are mere inches apart, and already my heart is pounding somewhere in my throat. Her eyes bore into mine, and she licks her lips. Her breath is surprisingly cool against my face.

She blinks, breaking the moment and moves away from my touch. "I love you, James," she whispers, "I'm sure you know that by now, but I cannot… It's not the right time."

I draw back, my face falling a bit as I nod. "I understand. You are right."

Seeing my crestfallen look Elizabeth burrows down under the covers, and pulls me down by the front of my shirt. I lay down next her as she nestles against my chest, pulling my arm around her protectively.

"Good-night, James."

"Good-night, Elizabeth."