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A/N: Father Jack Sparrow offers some education to a young Elizabeth Swann. Thanks to all who have reviewed!


Crimes Against The Crown
By Sinnamon Spider

Impersonating a Cleric of the Church of England

Jack stepped into the chapel, approaching the altar. He began to light the candles, but he sensed someone behind him and whirled, nearly tripping over his long robes – he still hadn't become accustomed to the troublesome things.

A tiny blonde girl of about five was standing behind him. She dropped him a dainty curtsey. "Father," she said in a piping voice, delicate and sweet.

He recovered his wits and bowed his head. "Greetings, my child," he said solemnly, laying a hand on her silky head. He squinted around, but the chapel was otherwise empty. Unaccompanied children were not usually to be seen. "Where are your parents?"

"Speaking with the bishop, Father," she replied. Despite her childish voice, she spoke clearly, with an educated tone and a thoroughly well-bred air.

"I see." He waited a few seconds longer, but she did not say anything. He turned back to the candles, and heard her light footsteps as she walked around the chapel, exploring quietly. He craned his head around to watch her, and didn't notice that the taper was burning too low until the hot wax dripped onto his fingers.

"Bugger!" He fumbled with the taper, but it slipped from his grasp and fell to the floor. He thrust his burnt fingers into his mouth.

The same light footsteps drew closer and the girl stopped in front of him. She tilted her blonde head at him, narrowing her large hazel eyes. "You don't seem much like a priest, Father," she said critically. He held her gaze, which was unnervingly steady. Then she bent and picked up the taper, extending it to him. He reached out to take it with his uninjured hand, his tanned fingers brushing her pale ones.

"Elizabeth!" A richly-dressed woman appeared in the doorway, presumably the girl's mother. She hurried toward the odd pair standing before the altar. "I'm dreadfully sorry, Father. I do hope she wasn't impeding you in your duties." She smiled at him.

He noted her beauty with a practiced eye, avoiding leering openly at her. She had passed on her delicate features and honey blonde hair to her daughter, who was still watching him with suspicion and fascination. He shook his head. "Not at all," he replied, inwardly grinning when the woman's eyes widened at the velvet sound of his voice. "It is very pleasing to see a child so interested in the workings of the Church."

Cecily Swann's hand went automatically to her hair, smoothing an errant strand as she blushed. "Yes, my Elizabeth is very inquisitive. She gets it from myself." She felt herself flush as the priest spoke. "Clearly she also inherited her charm and beauty from you." His dark eyes pierced hers.

"Cecily?" Weatherby's voice echoed from the doorway. Cecily started at her husband's call, turning away from the priest who smiled benevolently. The heat of her blush was still flaming on her cheeks. "Coming, dear," she said quickly. She curtseyed to the priest, reaching for her daughter's hand and nearly dragging her down the aisle. She shook her head slightly. Had she been flirting with a clergyman?

Pulled along in her mother's haste, little Elizabeth's shoe caught on a raised tile and she tripped. "Bugger!" she exclaimed. Cecily gasped and Weatherby frowned. "Elizabeth, language."

"Wherever did you hear such a vile word, Elizabeth?" Cecily demanded.

Elizabeth twisted around to look at the foul-mouthed priest, but he was gone.