A/N: This chapter get very large and so I decided to split it… well not in half but more like lop off the first third of it. The next chapter will be large and posted very soon.
Birds of a Feather
The Curse of the Black Pearl
Chapter Fifty-Three
Addressing the Situation
For a quick alteration job, Rachel Brown was incredibly thorough. When Elizabeth showed her the dress she had picked out for Syrena, Rachel took one look at it, declared it would wash Syrena right out, and dove into Elizabeth's wardrobe like she had been given cart blanche to it. As she dug through the garments like an explorer through an Egyptian tomb, she bombarded Elizabeth with questions on cuts, colors, fabrics, and a multitude of What is Syrena's favorite colour/bird/flower/animal/music/play/Old Testament Biblical scene?
The three maids who had been entrusted to the secret of the upcoming wedding, Giselle, Rosalyn – who had finally begun her day after a nice morning off – and Estrella just looked at Elizabeth nervously.
"Do you want me to stop her, Miss?" Estrella asked Elizabeth quickly.
Elizabeth sighed, "No. Let's let her work. I may not be thrilled about her presence, but I do want Philip's bride to look her best on their wedding day."
When Syrena finally joined them, it looked like a hurricane had hit the dressing room. Dresses, stomachers, and fabrics were strewn every which way and the maids looked positively frightened as Elizabeth and Rachel argued fiercely over two stomachers.
"Oh, Syrena! There you are!" Without any warning, Elizabeth grabbed her by the arm and yanked her over to the vanity where the stomachers were laid out. "Rachel is insisting that we go for the ivory with the pink miniature carnations. But clearly we should go for the alabaster with blush primroses. Don't you think?"
Syrena stared dumbly at the two stomachers in front of her. It was like one of those riddles where someone showed you two identical pictures and asked you to spot the differences, only this time the artist forgot to add any differences.
"I… Like them both?" she hazarded a response.
The looks she got in return suggested that was the wrong thing to say.
Thankfully Estrella took the sign to come to Syrena's rescue.
"Miss Elizabeth," Estrella came up behind Syrena, "while the stomacher is an important part of the gown, don't you think it would be wise for Miss Syrena to choose her dress and then match her stomacher to that? Surely such… different stomachers would match different types of dresses."
"Yes, I suppose that does make sense," Elizabeth conceded.
Syrena released a breath she didn't even know she had been holding.
"Come," Elizabeth took her arm in arm and led her back into the adjoining bedroom, "I've picked out a few options that would be very suitable."
In Elizabeth's bedroom, three gorgeous gowns were laid out on the bed.
One was a blue as dark and deep as the ocean with silver filigree that danced delicately up and down the gown like waves.
The next was a bright green that reminded Syrena of Philip's clear confident eyes. Strewn across the skirt, little golden flowers gathered in knots.
Finally, there was a red gown, a bit earthy that reminded Syrena of the colour of her own tail. She almost gasped then she noticed that light catch the skirt, and a shimmering bronze effect of small ovals almost like scales rippled across the skirt.
"What about the one that I chose earlier today?" Syrena asked as she studied the gowns.
Giselle was quick to repeat Rachel's fears of washing out her complexion and then launched into a well rehearsed speech about each specimen.
Syrena stood there and said nothing. The dresses all had their merits, but still none of them seemed to be quite "right." Of course, with the rush of things, she knew she couldn't be overly picky, but even the scale dress still seemed too much like she would be wearing Elizabeth's clothing.
She rubbed the hibiscus bracelet on her wrist; couldn't she have something of her own?
Elizabeth's eyes were haunting her, so Syrena met them and tried to speak those fears through the conjoined gaze. Something seemed to soften in Elizabeth's gaze and she waved Estrella over to her. Elizabeth whispered to Estrella, who nodded and exited the room.
Syrena opened her mouth to ask what was going on, but just as soon closed it. She didn't want to look a fool if she was imagining things and Elizabeth would no doubt pounce on the opportunity to tease.
But Syrena wasn't imagining things. Right as Giselle was extoling how nicely the green dress would match Mister Swift's eyes, Estrella returned carrying an armful of fabric.
Immediately Syrena gasped. It was a gorgeous dark aquamarine gown, deceptively simple in its cut, but clearly the work of a master craftsman. Pearls were delicately stitched along the neckline and in deep blues and greens there was embroidery of some sort of flowers Syrena couldn't name, artistic leaves, and fernlike shapes. There were touches of bronze and gold thread here and there, and the sleeves had extravagant but very deliberately designed ruffles at the end of the short sleeve.
"Where did you find this?" Syrena carefully examined the gown as Estrella held it up for her purview.
"Father commissioned it some months past," Elizabeth explained. "He intended to have me wear it at the Gillettes' ball as my first public appearance with Norrington as my fiancé. I only found out about it when I returned from our adventure. It's never been worn, so I figured maybe you might like… you know. If you want. It's not a big deal if you don't-"
Elizabeth was knocked back by a sudden hug.
"Thank you so much," Syrena whispered.
Elizabeth smiled and squeezed her back.
"Alright," Rachel watched the scene with a smile, "then let's get to work."
The dress was new, but that didn't mean it didn't need some tweaks. Elizabeth and Syrena were similarly sized but not a perfect match. Their tastes were also not entirely the same, so there were adjustments concerning dress hem design and a few requests about adding a bit more lace on the shoulders.
Luckily, the dress already came with a matching underskirt in a lighter aquamarine shade – this one leaning more turquoise than the dark cerulean-esque shade of the gown.
Syrena had to face her greatest test of leg strength yet when Rachel made her get up on the pedestal in Elizabeth's dressing room where she would get her private final alterations for all of her clothing. Elizabeth was lucky to be rich enough that her seamstresses would make house calls.
The legs on Syrena were still new, but they were getting stronger by the day. Still, she struggled to stand for so long while Rachel was knelt down busily sewing some nice lace detailing at the skirt hem. Apparently, Rachel found it easier to do such work when the dress was on a model, but since there wasn't a mannequin hanging around the Swann Manor – and it sure as hell would raise suspicion if they tried to track one down, much less brought it in – Syrena was stuck standing there as a makeshift mannequin.
"I'll get this done as quick as possible," Rachel said. "I promise."
"Take your time," Elizabeth lounged in a chair by the full-length mirror in the corner. "There's no need to rush anything."
Rachel said nothing, but Elizabeth caught the reflection of her rolling her eyes in the mirror.
"Is there something wrong?" Elizabeth asked with veiled politeness.
In that way that was all too familiar in the mechanics of society, Rachel flashed her an equally polite smile. Elizabeth's first instinct was to rise to the insult, but she glanced at Syrena and decided not to ruin the wedding. The tension in the air was thick enough; Elizabeth owed it to Philip not to make things worse.
"It's a good thing you chose that dress, Syrena" Elizabeth decided to change the subject. "I have this really pretty blue stomacher that would go perfect for your wedding."
"Oh? How so?" Syrena asked.
Elizabeth grinned, "It's covered in swans and swifts. Actually, it's an old family piece. Aunt Becca mailed it to her father a year after her marriage. Apparently my mother was only just able to save it from the fireplace he tossed it straight into. Mother had to hide it for years."
Syrena laughed, "I cannot believe Rebecca Swift's gall."
"I can. Aunt Becca was all about pushing her luck in every microscopic way she could manage. Her father instructed her to get a drink at a ball with a suitor? She'd come straight back with a double of whiskey. He instructed her to do her devout duty and go pray with some sick family friends? She'd recite to them the entire Order for the Visitation of the Sick from the Common Book of Prayer. Her funniest piece of rebellion was her embroidery. No one on this earth could embroider better than her, but how did she use it? She would spend her days making samplers that showcased the most bizarre Biblical quotes and scenes she could find. I still have a pillow on my bed back in England that reads And two female bears came out of the woods and mauled forty-two of the youths. The bears on that pillow, you've never seen such shading in stitchwork, I guarantee."
"You know, with every story you tell me of Rebecca, the more you and Philip start to make more sense."
"Hey!"
"Miss Finson, please try not to move," Rachel gently reprimanded.
"Sorry," Syrena bit her lip.
She was very aware of the fact of just how awkward the whole thing was for Rachel. Weatherby had insisted on paying Rachel, despite her objections, but it was still a lot to ask for her to endure the favor.
"So," Syrena said awkwardly, "how long are you going to be in town, Miss Brown?"
"You can call me Rachel, and it'll be a few weeks yet. I'm here to help my uncle with a few things."
Elizabeth scoffed, "You sure are."
Rachel narrowed her eyes, "Elizabeth, is there a problem here? Because I can leave-"
"No. Please do not," Syrena begged. "Elizabeth will behave, right?"
Elizabeth looked over at Syrena and sighed, "I… I'm sorry. Okay. It's just hard to be around you."
"No harder than for me to be around the woman I was left for," Rachel shot back. "Yet here I am, the same way I have always been and enduring your presence."
"Enduring me?"
"Ladies?" Syrena tried to cut in.
"You can't deny that you haven't always been a difficulty in my life," Rachel shot. "Whether or not I deserved it, which I didn't."
"Yes, I'm sure life was hard when you were kissing Will over his forge."
Rachel threw down her needle, "Really? Are we going to do this? Because I'm ready for it."
And so was Elizabeth, "You knew how we felt about each other."
"Yeah… which is why I waited so long to make a move. You know, I was convinced that when you whisked him off to England with your family, that was going to be it. Months of him being with you in a better world than my folk could provide. But then nothing happened, and I realized nothing was ever going to happen. So I took my shot."
"Two years later! And something happening was absolutely still on the table. Just because he was with you didn't mean he stopped loving me."
Rachel's eyes darkened, "I'm more aware of that fact than you will ever be. Do you know what it's like to kiss a man, then look him in the eyes and know that he's wondering what it would be like with someone else? I was ready to sacrifice everything to always be second best to you."
"Yes, and it was Will who decided to end things," Elizabeth shot. "Admit it, you still love him."
"As a friend, yes. But not as a lover. I realised that I deserve better, to be with someone who puts me first. Who kisses me and wants it to be me. I've moved on, Miss Swann. I found someone else."
Elizabeth and Syrena exchanged a look.
"You… You did?" Elizabeth asked.
"His name's Samuel," Rachel said. "He's a cartwright in the shop next to mine and I love him with all of my heart and soul. No matter how much it hurts. No matter how much I have to sacrifice."
"I'm sure you're sacrificing a lot," Elizabeth bit. "Syrena and I wouldn't even begin to understand the meaning of sacrifice compared to you."
"Maybe you don't. At least you get to…" Rachel heaved a heavy sigh, "Forget it."
"No. What is it?" Elizabeth challenged.
Rachel stared at the floor for a very long time, but then she looked up. Tears glistened in her eyes as she observed Syrena's beautiful wedding dress.
"At least you two get to be married to the one you love," Rachel finally said. "…I'm never going to be able to marry Samuel."
"Why not?" Syrena asked.
"Because… Because white girls don't get to marry black men."
It hit the girls like a blow.
"He's black?" Elizabeth blurted out. "But you live in America, does that mean he's-"
"He's not a slave," Rachel answered. "His father bought the freedom of Samuel and his mother. Of course, that doesn't mean he doesn't spend every second of the day worrying that he's going to be knocked out, thrown in the back of a cart, and forced into slavery. But he's the kindest, strongest, most caring man you ever would meet. All the neighborhood children love to play with him and he spends his spare time helping the sick and needy with reduced price or even free labour. He's everything I've ever wanted… and yet, I cannot ever fully have him."
Elizabeth felt guilty. The adoration in Rachel's voice showcased the depth of love. No one who heard the way she spoke about Samuel could ever doubt the trueness of her affection. In fact, it made Elizabeth almost wonder if she could ever love Will that deeply.
"I do not understand," Syrena frowned. "Why is it hard for you to be with him?"
Rachel looked at Syrena in confusion, but Elizabeth waived her off.
"Black persons are considered vastly inferior to the whites," Elizabeth explained. "It's absolutely wrong, but most white people won't do business with black persons. In fact, they often would chase them from their neighborhoods, rob them, beat them, or even kill them."
"Black men also can't be with white women. Even if I consent, it's considered rape. He could be lynched if we were ever found out about." Rachel wiped away her tears, "I…I'm sorry. I don't mean to get so emotional and ruin your wedding day. But can you promise not to tell anyone about Samuel?"
"Of course," Syrena nodded.
Elizabeth asked, "Who else knows?"
"Will and my uncle are the only ones in town," Rachel answered. "I also told my parents and… well we haven't spoken since."
"I'm sorry."
"It's not your fault."
"No… but it's not yours either."
Rachel sniffed and took a breath to compose herself, "Come on, let's get back to work on this gown so at least one of us here can get married."
She instantly bustled back to work. Syrena and Elizabeth looked at each other and said nothing.
There were some things they would never be able to fix.
The following text is a letter sent to approximately thirty "friends of the Swann family" in Port Royal the night of March 13th, 1739.
Dearest Friend,
You are hereby invited to an intimate gathering of friends at Swann Manor tomorrow evening at seven o'clock, March 14, 1739. This is a private evening that has a carefully curated guest list and we are proud to extend an invitation. As the event is private, we ask attendants to keep knowledge of this gathering to themselves.
The gathering will be a celebration to welcome Miss Syrena Finson into the home of Weatherby Swann. Dinner will be served, followed by dancing.
Please dress in style.
Sincerely,
Governor Weatherby Swann
This letter was concluded with a large squiggle that somewhat resembled the above name and also vaguely an ostrich.
"We shouldn't go," Damien Gillette said firmly.
Prudence looked up from the letter that she must have read a thousand times by now. She was lounging on the couch of their finest sitting room, idly watching her husband pace in front of the fireplace.
"Damien, have you lost your mind?" Prudence asked firmly. "We can't turn down an invitation from the Governor of Port Royal."
He stopped mid-step and looked at her with a furrowed brow, "But it's to celebrate a mermaid!"
"I don't care if it's to celebrate the Pope," said the staunchly Protestant Prudence Gillette. "We are going."
"Prudy-"
"Think of your career, Damien. You're already on the Governor's wrong side for locking up his daughter. Not to mention giving up command of the Dauntless to Turner, Swift, and the pirate."
His face reddened, "In all fairness, they ended up stealing the Interceptor instead, so no harm."
The expression on her face made him shrink back.
"Look," he sighed, "I can handle myself, but this involves you. I don't want you or the children to be put in danger from some demon siren."
"That's preposterous. The children won't be attending. Proper society people don't bring under thirteen-year-olds to events. It'll be at least four years before I even consider bringing Arthur to an event, let alone Lucinda."
"Lucy," he muttered under his breath. No more how much Prudence insisted on calling their daughter by her Christian name, Damien Gillette had a soft spot for his little daughter. He couldn't imagine calling her anything but Lucy (or Lulu behind the thickest of closed doors.)
Prudence raised an eyebrow but pressed on, "You'll be there to protect me from the mermaid just fine. Besides, I'd rather keep her close, within sight to prevent any tricks."
"What… What do mermaids even do?"
There was a pause as they both realised the extent of their knowledge.
"I don't know," Prudence finally said. "But we'll find out. And when we do, we'll figure out a way to exorcize this evil from our lives."
Gillette smiled. As he looked upon his wife of twelve years, he couldn't help but think about how lucky he was to have found his perfect match.
A/N: God damn the importance of wedding gowns in stories. Do you know how long I spent looking at photos of Àstrid Bergès-Frisbey, historical gowns from 1730-1745s, embroidery of stomachers, different types of stones in jewelry, and thinking about what clothes Elizabeth has already, what the fuck Rachel would be able to create/procure/alter within 36 hours, and what Syrena would want to wear? I haven't put this much effort into researching and building a character's props since I decided Norrington would have a fruit room on the Dauntless.
In fact, I did so much research that I created an imgur post compiling the pieces/photos that inspired the final outfit in this chapter and gave some commentary on each piece. Please see it here: imgur DOT com/a/1IyRX8W
Finally, I found out that if you google the names Àstrid Bergès-Frisbey and Geoffrey Rush, you find a fucking adorable picture of the two together at a premiere that satiates the Barbossa Syrena Daddy-daughter vibes in my soul.