I lied, I need another chapter or two more to the count until we get to Jack's execution. I can't say why but you'll understand in about three chapters.

Birds of a Feather

The Curse of the Black Pearl

Chapter Forty-Six

The Wrench in the Plan

Rachel and Will stood there for a minute staring at each other in shock.

Then a grin spread across their faces and the smith filled with laughter as they ran into each other's arms.

Will picked her up and spun her around, making her laughs turn to happy shrieks. When he set her down, they held each other tight.

He had missed her, her long brunette curls, her easy laughter, her warm brown eyes that could read his mind so easily. Will had missed how easy it was with her. Not just her lover, but his closest friend. Philip would always be his best friend and Elizabeth would be so much more, but there was a distance between them due to their stations. Rachel had always been on the same footing and actually understood the worries of money, future, and security.

Oddly, it was that closeness that had started to draw Will towards Syrena in friendship.

"Oh my god, Will," Rachel said into his shoulder, a tear staining the fancy fabric of Philip's borrowed clothes. "I've been so worried about you. Are you alright?"

"I'm fine, Rachel," he petted her soft locks and held her against his chest. "It's alright now."

"They were saying just the worst things and I couldn't stop thinking about you at the mercy of a ton of vicious pirates. And your hand. Why is it wrapped? Did they hurt you?"

"It's self-inflicted. I promise to tell you the story later, but please don't worry. I'm home. I'm safe. It's all over."

She rested her head on his shoulder, "I'm so happy, but there still something I am so worried about."

"What's that?"

"After all of it: the pirates, the prison breaks, the raids…" She pulled back and looked him straight in the eye, "Please tell me you finally got the girl."

He grinned, "I got the girl."

"That a boy, Will!" she slapped his shoulder ecstatically. "I knew you could do it! You and Elizabeth are made for each other."

"Not that you and I weren't good too," he winked.

"Alright, down boy. You had your chance. Not my fault if you blew it. How are you feeling now that you got her? Nervous?"

"Honestly, it's such a relief off my chest. After all this time Elizabeth and I are actually together."

"Well, if it had to be anyone else, I'm glad it's Elizabeth," Rachel's words were genuine. "You two engaged?"

"Engaged to be engaged. Or something like that. How's Samuel?"

"He is doing wonderful. Though a bit weary I'm off alone with you."

They chuckled.

Samuel was Rachel's beau that she had written about in so many letters to Will. It had only been a week into her move to Louisiana that Rachel met the handsome cartwright down the street from her employer's shop. In no time at all, the pair had fallen madly in love. Not many people knew Rachel was living and loving Sam out of wedlock but considering the circumstances they had little other choice.

At first Will and Samuel were wary of each other and the letters Rachel exchanged with Will, but over time, no rivalry really blossomed. Rachel had been prepared to move on from Will when he refused to leave Port Royal with her, and she had taken care not to rush into things with Sam until she had dealt with Will's rejection. Sam had been sweet and careful with his courtship, afraid of what might happen if he got too eager. Men like him knew the consequences of appearing too emotional whether it was joy or anger. His patience paid off and Rachel came to know and love him as her one true match.

While it hurt Rachel that Will had chosen Elizabeth over her, in hindsight she wouldn't hesitate to choose Sam over him. Now when she dreamed of her future children, they looked of Samuel, but she still valued her friendship with Will.

As for Will, he was happy that Rachel had found true love and that he and Rachel could still maintain their deep friendship. True, Will had never met Sam, but Rachel's love had shone through her every inky word.

"Rachel," Will looked at her, "what are you doing here?"

"What do you think I'm doing?" She gave his chest a light smack, "You ran off with Philip Swift and a pirate, leaving my uncle without a word. Someone had to come take care of him."

Will's swallowed, "How is he?"

Rachel's face fell, "Come on. We need to talk."

Mister Brown's house was a small thing not far from the smith. Though it was nothing grand by any stretch it was at least a home and a great deal nicer than the apartments – aka the single room with a cot and a stove – that Will had in the smith.

Bottles littered the floor as he and Rachel entered the house, and Will couldn't help but think that there were more than usual.

"Uncle John?" Rachel called out. "Good news! Will is home and he's back in one piece!"

A grunt came from the main room, and they entered to find John Brown looking as miserable and unkempt as usual. Actually, the closer Will looked, it seemed that Mister Brown was worse off than he had left him.

"Will," Brown groaned. A clinking of bottles filled the room as he moved in the ratty old chair that was missing handfuls of stuffing. "Where'd you run off to?"

Trying to lighten the mood, Will joked, "To be honest, I'm not entirely sure. I don't think you would find it on any map. Let's just say I wouldn't want to go back there any time soon."

"They said you ran off with that Sparrow pirate."

"That would be true."

"Oh, what'd you do a fool thing like that for?"

Will tried to keep calm, surely Brown understood, "They took Miss Swann and-"

"You should have left it to Norrington!" Brown barked. "I needed you here! Do you know what I've had to go through these past few weeks?"

His jaw tightened as he remembered ship to ship combat, dueling pirates for his life, and threatening suicide as a bargaining tool.

"I'm sure it's been difficult," Will said plainly. "I'm sorry."

Brown sighed, "No, I'm sorry. This has just made me see how much I've been pushing on to you. I couldn't get a single order done without you."

"I promise, I'll complete them all just as soon-"

"You don't get it!" the intensity of his voice made Will and Rachel startled. Brown noticed, stopped, and took a breath, "I've been holding you back. You've been doing all my work and you've been doing it well. And what do I do? I keep you an apprentice. What kind of blacksmith am I pushing everything onto you. I used to take pride in my work, and now… Well, look at me."

Will felt sorrow for the man. He had been the one to take care of Will after the boy had lost everything and it broke his heart to see what the loss of John's wife had done to the man. He wondered if he had lost Elizabeth to the pirates, what sort of mess would be left of the shell William Turner once was.

He looked over to Rachel, expecting to see the same sympathy in her demeanour as the two of them had always shared for John Brown. They had been the ones to care for and protect the man, and they held an empathy in their hearts that no one else really understood.

But instead there was a hardness in those deep brown eyes.

"Tell him," Rachel's voice was the sternness you reserved for when she told her uncle he was done drinking for the night.

Will frowned, knowing this meant no good, "What's going on?"

"Stocks has made me an offer," Brown said.

"No."

Josiah Stocks was Port Royal's other blacksmith, and he had had his eyes on Will for years. Stocks took shortcuts, produced subpar work, abused his apprentices, and didn't believe an apprentice had worked a full day unless he had come to work before sunup and left well after sundown. If you saw the light of day, you were doing it wrong.

Stocks had made Will an offer to take over his apprenticeship no less than fifteen times, the first being only a few months after starting to work for John Brown. The offers were tempting, increasing in payment and most recently offering perks like the full set of apartments above the Stocks shop for a decent rent.

But Will had his pride, and even more so his integrity. Working for Stocks meant sacrificing quality as well as the ability to actually live his own life. It meant no more visiting with Philip and sure as hell no more practicing sword fighting three hours a day. Sure, the pay would be good so he could marry and raise a family with Elizabeth, but what was the point when he never saw his wife, much less found time and energy to make a family.

He might as well let Norrington marry Elizabeth for all the good working for Stocks would do.

"I don't care what he's offering," Will said, "I won't go to his shop."

Rachel and John traded a look.

"I'm afraid there's a bit more to it than that," Brown said. "He doesn't just want you… he wants the shop."

Will frowned, "What- What do you mean? He wants to trade venues?"

"He wants to buy the shop from me. Lock, stock, and barrel."

"N- No. You can't." Panic riddled Will's voice. "That shop is mine. You promised to sell it to me. I've been saving up for five years. I'm only a few years away."

"Will," Brown sighed, "I can't keep doing this. Port Royal hasn't been the same since Aggie died. I'm too tired to do the work I used to, and my health…"

Rachel eyed the liquor bottles, "I wouldn't exactly call it health."

"That's the point," Brown looked so miserable, "for years the two of you have been looking after me. At first I had hoped that you would marry each other and I could pass the shop to Will and spend my days with Sweet Rachel. Then you went and moved to America and Will set his sights on the Governor's daughter-"

"Uncle John," Rachel warned.

"I gave up," Brown admitted to Will. "I made everything your responsibility and that wasn't fair to either of us."

Will fought so hard not to point out that he wasn't worried about fairness when he was taking credit for all of Will's work. Part of him wondered if Will's duel with Jack had ended differently, would Brown have taken the credit for Jack's capture?

"I can't keep going on like this," Brown continued. "I'm going to go home with Rachel and live out my final days in Louisiana. Stocks is offering me a good price for the smith and he's happy to take you on."

"I'm sure he is," Will said bitterly.

"But I had no choice," Brown said. "You up and disappeared and who knew if you were coming back?"

That silenced Will; he had a point. Over and over, he had talked about how his little pirate break meant he had thrown away all he had worked for. The truth is he hadn't expected that to actually happen. He fully expected to waltz right back into John Brown's smith and find nothing had changed. Will would continue to work as a blacksmith, do all of Brown's work, and eventually buy the shop. He never dreamed that he could actually lose it because he broke Jack out of jail.

"Let me buy it," Will said desperately. "Please, I need to. I will give you everything I have in savings and then I will send money to you in Louisiana until I have paid you off. I'll even keep the shop named for you. Please. I can't lose this shop."

Brown shook his head, "I'm sorry, but I need all the money upfront to make the move. I'll need to get my own place in Louisiana as I can't go living with this one and her special friend."

Rachel cast her eyes down. Everyone in the room knew exactly what that meant. Will had been surprised when Rachel told him a year previous that she told the truth to her uncle. Even more surprisingly was that Brown actually supported her in contrast to his brother and sister-in-law who had cut their daughter off.

Will's mind raced, "There has to be something I can do. Please, I'm here, I'm home. I'm your apprentice. Everything I am as a blacksmith is what you made me. Is there anything at all I can do to stop this?"

Brown thought very hard, "Tell you what, I'll let you buy the shop first. I'll tell you how much Stocks has offered, and I'll let you buy it for eighty percent of that. But you have to pay me upfront. I like you, Will. I want you to be the one who gets my shop rather than that cheap, arrogant fu-"

"Uncle!" Rachel snapped.

Will's face fell, "I told you; I don't have the money upfront."

"Then find it. I've got ten days before Stocks and I sign the papers. If you can manage to find the money before March 17th, the shop is yours. Promise."

Will's heart dropped: ten days to find more money than he would make in a year.

He would need a miracle.

Philip had missed church. Church was simple and clear cut. He knew his role at church, he was admired, and looked to for support and leadership. Everyone in Port Royal was just counting down the days before they could call him Pastor Philip.

People smiled at him at church, they sought him out, they enjoyed his presence.

But as he helped Syrena out of the carriage and walked across the lawn with her arm in arm, church had become a battlefield.

"They're all staring at us," Philip whispered.

"Only because they're all jealous I have you on my arm," Syrena teased.

"If only that were true."

Syrena glowed with pride as every head turned to watch the pair. Whispers filled the lawn as the bell rung out proudly. She tried not to look like she was focusing too hard on her every step, but Philip could feel the wobbling.

"Do you need to sit?" Philip asked discretely, only being heard otherwise by Weatherby and Elizabeth who walked arm in arm behind them, searching for Will.

"Soon," Syrena answered. "I can manage a while longer yet."

"Then let us find William and be inside," Weatherby said in a low voice.

"Philip!"

The group turned to find Anne Woodberry approaching. Behind her Hannah noticed her mother's trajectory. She blushed at the sight of Philip and Syrena and darted off to escape to some girl friends of herself to discuss the development.

"There you are," Anne all but thrust a list into Philip's hands. "Thank the Lord you're back. Poor Hannah has been having to do the announcements in your absence and she's been a trembling little lamb in front of all those eyes staring at her at once. You will be them as usual, right?"

"Of course," Philip bowed his head to her.

"What is that?" Syrena asked as Anne ran off to another of her million duties on Sunday mornings while Philip began reading over the paper she left him with.

"Oh, Pastor Thomas lets me make the community announcements between the hymnals and the sermon. You know, act in a churchly role without doing anything to compromise my ordination application."

"Like that matters now," Elizabeth smirked. That was when she noticed another look directed towards her, "Is it just me or does there seem to be some whispering about me?"

"I couldn't imagine why," Weatherby said sardonically.

Elizabeth rolled her eyes. She had expected the whispers to start when they met up with Will, but there seemed to be something… off.

That was when Will came over to them in somewhat of a hurry. He was dressed in his church clothes which were not much to write home (or to Rachel) about. It didn't look much different than his work clothes, just a bit crisper from less wear. He did have a waist length brown coat he only wore for special occasions, but even then, an elbow had to be patched not too long ago.

It was nothing compared to Philip's attire, which was even grander than his uncle's. It was not gaudy in appearance, but it was made with finest fabric which had been cut expertly and tailored perfectly to Philip's body. The coat was emerald green with gold detailing while the tunic was a yellow cream with elaborate embroidery. A lot of people thought at first it was just random patterns until you looked closer to see that it was actually images of fish jumping from water. If you asked Philip about it, he would tell you how it was the Disciple Philip who had been tested by Jesus on how to feed the 5000 before providing them with loaves and fishes.

Of course, now that Syrena was in his life, Philip felt that the fish might have a more personal meaning these days.

Elizabeth herself was in deep green and cream to match Philip somewhat, though her father kept the grey color palette he so adored. Syrena however had been dressed in a soft red, not sharp enough to be the color of blood, but not light enough to start registering pink. It had been an old outfit of Elizabeth's, though Weatherby Swann had already commissioned a few new pieces specially made for Syrena including a pale green dress for her Sunday best that she had been allowed to pick out the previous day.

Philip idly wondered if Will would be forced into the green team with the rest of them, but as Will didn't really look good in the colour, he was certain Will would fight it. Might even get a signed letter from Rachel Brown testifying to the colour palette he was allowed to wear.

He shivered to think how even the mention of Rachel Brown would go over with Elizabeth and Syrena at the moment.

"Elizabeth," Will said breathlessly, not as in the sight of her was so amazing it took his breath away but rather in the the man is literally out of breath way. "I have to talk to you."

"Good morning, William," Governor Swann said flatly, apparently feeling the Swann part of him especially strongly that day. "Wonderful to see you too this morning. Yes, thank you, we do all look well."

He smiled apologetically, "Forgive me, Governor Swann. Yes, good morning all. You look well. That is a wonderful dress you have there, Syrena."

"Thank you," Syrena said. "Though I think the outfit might have looked a little better if I had been allowed to bring-"

"For the last time, Miss Finson," Weatherby cut off, "I will allow you to have the monkey in my home, but I draw the line at bringing him to church."

"Fine," Elizabeth said, "but you're the one who gets to answer at St Peter's Gate why you denied a heathen salvation."

Everyone looked to Syrena expecting wild offense and to continuation of the women's rival.

But Syrena looked unperturbed.

"What?" she asked. "Monkey or not, Jack is a heathen."

Philip snorted.

"Elizabeth, please," Will grabbed her hands – letting a murmur ripple through the crowd at such an overfamiliar gesture. "There's something I really need to tell you before it's too late."

"What is it?"

"You need to know that-"

"Miss Swann!" a voice cut across the lawn. A voice that made all of the party but Syrena, freeze solid. A chipper and very fashionable looking Rachel Brown appeared through the parting crowd like the red sea. "Thank goodness. I am glad to see you safe and no worse for wear. Governor Swann, Philip, it's wonderful to see you again."

The only response the Swanns could give was just staring at the girl agog.

Will sighed, bowing his head in defeat, "…Rachel's in town."

Elizabeth just turned and glared at him.

Frantically he said, "Hey, I didn't invite her."

"I am standing right here," Rachel reminded.

"Rachel," Philip blinked once, twice at her. "What are you… What are you…"

She waited for him to finish but he never did, "Doing here? I came to help my uncle while Will was… away. And who is this lovely young lady?"

"Oh, um, this," Philip cleared his throat and gestured to his companion, "this is my Syrena. I mean! Uh, this is Syrena Finson. Syrena, this is Miss Rachel Brown. She's an old… friend of Will's."

Syrena lifted an eyebrow, "Is that so?"

"It's a pleasure to meet you, Miss Finson," Rachel held out a hand. "I've been hearing talk of a beautiful young lady brought home with Will and Philip, and the stories do not disappoint."

Syrena just stared at Rachel's extended hand. For a long while she said nothing. Right when Philip was about to discretely ask if Syrena didn't know what to do with the offered hand, Syrena took it and shook.

Rachel was very aware of the cutting hazel eyes examining every inch of her body, judging and comparing. For a moment, they flicked over to Philip, and Rachel could have sworn she felt Syrena's nails sharpen. Rachel snatched her hand away and but unsettled by the sharp smile Syrena gave her.

"It's wonderful to make your acquaintance, Miss Brown," Syrena said a little too smoothly. "I've heard about your many wonderful qualities from the boys."

Eyes flicking over to Will and Philip, Rachel chuckled nervously.

The Governor cleared his throat, "It's wonderful to see you still taking good care of your uncle. I only hope my children show such attention when my own health declines."

"I'm certain they will," Rachel smiled brightly.

Elizabeth glared. That was the thing she hated most about Rachel, how effortlessly nice she was. It wasn't even an act to curry favour, she really wished the best for the Swann family like a friend. It hurt Elizabeth that Will's ex almost wife was so genuine, it made hating her much more difficult.

To the clear, it wasn't Rachel Brown that Elizabeth wanted to hate. It was the concept of Will's former lover she wanted to beat down and deride, that way she didn't have to worry about comparison. She never had to feel insecure that maybe Will wondered about what kind of future he would have had with Rachel instead.

No, the fact that it was kind, generous, no nonsense Rachel Brown who had been so close In friendship with Will was the hardest part. When Will was stuttering over calling Elizabeth "Miss Swann" he was off having no troubles calling the other girl "Rachel." When Elizabeth offered Will help it was charity; when Rachel offered it, it was a welcomed helping hand. If Will had married Rachel, he would have been incredibly happy, maybe even as happy as being with Elizabeth.

In another life, Rachel could have been just as good a friend to Elizabeth as Philip was to Will. That was why it was a struggle to be around Rachel: because it would be so much easier to hate her than admit she liked the woman.

And worst yet, when Elizabeth's eye met Rachel, the damn woman understood it all.

Rachel didn't say anything to the want to be jealous lovers of her former suitors. It was strife none of them needed in their lives and a tiresome exercise that wasn't actually required to play out. So she tried to break the tension from the women who so clearly did not welcome her presence, and Rachel launched into conversation with the Governor.

As they spoke of Rachel's shop in Louisiana, Elizabeth leaned over to Syrena.

"Now I know what Hannah feels like," she whispered.

"Except this is a fight both of us will win."

"Honestly, I don't think Hannah is much of a fighter."

"This one looks it, though. Not that I would ever have to worry about comparison for Philip's heart."

"Decided you're prettier than her?"

"Oh, I know I am," Syrena had a smug smile. Her grip on Philip's arm tightened and Philip gave a small whimper of pain. "This is the one that loved Will and whom Philip loved, yes?"

"Unfortunately yes, though I'm not sure I would go so far to say there was any really love by Philip. I've seen how he looks at you and the way he looked at Rachel is nothing compared to that. Will on the other hand…" Elizabeth stepped froward and wrapped her arm tightly in Will's, marking him as her territory. She hissed in his ear, "Why didn't you tell me Rachel was here?"

"I was literally in the middle of doing so," Will said in his defense. "Look, I was just as surprised as you when I found her in the shop last night."

"In the shop last night? Were you alone with her?"

"Not the first time, and I doubt it will be the last time."

"So, you plan on having private meetings with your ex-lover in the future?"

"Can we please not do the jealousy thing?" Will sighed. "You know that's over between Rachel and I. It's always been you I've wanted and I don't want my friend's presence to ruin what we finally have."

"Well, I would be a lot more comfortable if you weren't friends with her."

"And I would be more comfortable if you weren't friends with Syrena considering the horrific things you accomplish when working together."

"Says the man who literally covered up a murder for her."

"Shh. Not so loud," Will looked around to make sure no one had overhead. "Look, I've moved on from Rachel but she's still my friend. She'll never get in the way of us, but I want her to stay in my life as a friend. Not as a what if, but as someone who has been there for me the way that Philip has been there for you. Can you accept that?"

Elizabeth sighed, "Alright, but I'm just afraid that something is going to get in the way of us being together. Can you promise me there's nothing else I need to worry about?"

He thought about his – now – nine day ultimatum between employment and homelessness.

"No," he lied. "Nothing at all to worry about."

Elizabeth squinted at him, "Alright, if you're sure. Just remember, you said we need to make our choices together."

And as she so easily let the issue like, Will felt him stomach roil. He couldn't tell her and risk losing their future together because he couldn't provide a life for them.

Nine days. He had nine days left for a miracle.

"That was a wonderful sermon, Pastor Thomas."

Like before church, the townsfolk of Port Royal liked to mingle on the beautifully kept lawn of the church after the sermon.

Off at the side door of the church, the parents of Port Royal waited for Anne to release their children from Sunday school where Archdeacon Rutherford had led the teaching that week. To everyone's surprise, the mighty "Fixer" would be praised by the children for how nice, fun, and exciting his storytelling and teaching had been. David and Goliath would be a popular game among the children of Port Royal for months to come.

Syrena stood off to the side, a little self-conscious as she watched Philip mingle with his people so naturally. She noticed how Anne acted at Pastor Thomas' side, so take charge and supportive of her husband. For a moment Syrena imagined standing at the side of Philip has he mingled with his own congregation one day. Could she really be that community centre Anne was when Syrena was still terrified of what would happen if the truth about her was revealed? Could she ever really belong in Philip's world as easily as he had fit in hers?

But never forget who you are… my daughter, Syrena Barbossa.

She wondered what her father would think of where she ended up. Syrena wanted so badly to curl up with Jack the Monkey and just mourn the man she wasn't allowed to even acknowledge. This wasn't her: some quiet, sweet, demure, damsel-in-distress. She was a mermaid, a pirate, an anomaly of nature. Different from the rest.

But she loved Philip Swift, and if being with him meant following down this path, then she would go with her head held high.

She idly toyed with a nice with the pendant of a rose that hung from her neck. The clothing and jewelry adorning her made her feel so uncomfortable: none of it was hers. It felt like borrowing someone else's skin, but worse yet was the inability to take comfort in something that belonged only to her. Not some reused token that passed to her second hands, nothing stolen or borrowed or inherited. She wanted something that was only ever hers.

Then Philip's eyes caught her across the crowd and he gave her that smile she so loved.

There was at least one thing she had that was just hers: the heart of Philip Swift. How could she really ask for more?

"Miss Finson?"

Syrena blinked in surprise; the last person she ever expected to approach her was Lieutenant Gillette's wife. Instantly she was suspicious, and when Syrena looked over her shoulder where Gillette was being badgered by his children, Damien very quickly looked away.

Great. Now there was two of them.

"Uh, yes?" Syrena asked politely.

The woman held out her hand, "I'm Mrs. Prudence Gillette, Lieutenant Damien's wife. I've been hearing a lot about you, so I thought I would come over and make an introduction."

Syrena raised an eyebrow. She had to stop herself from dealing the woman a large societal blow and point out her faux pas. Yes, on the level of Syrena being of common birth and Prudence being a Lieutenant's wife, Prudence outranked her and the onus was on her to initiate contact. However, Syrena was the personal guest of the Governor, so in the moment she was considered of higher status and it was up to her hosts Weatherby, Elizabeth, or even Philip to facilitate introductions.

To be honest, Syrena sort of admired the gumption of Prudence to push such formalities aside. True, she likely did it out of the thought Syrena would be ignorant to the matter, but it still took a strong spine for a woman of her station to try.

"Syrena Finson," she introduced herself, taking Prudence's hand to shake. She thought better of pulling the claw trick she had done with Rachel. Considering how much Gillette already knew and suspected, Syrena knew better than take chances.

"What an interesting accent you have there," Prudence cut straight to the point. It surprised Syrena how direct the woman was. In a way, she sort of felt a strange liking for the woman. "May I ask where you come from?"

Oh, she could have some fun with this.

"Santa Perla Negra," Syrena answered. "Do you know it?"

"I'm afraid I don't. Is it far?"

Of course she wouldn't it, Syrena had just thrown a Santa in front of the Spanish words for Black Pearl. If Prudence ever figured it out, she might be in trouble but Syrena suspected the Gillettes weren't much for languages."

"It is in Florida by the Bahía de las Ninfas del Mar," Syrena at least could say that was true as it meant The Bay of the Sea Nymphs which the Spaniards called Whitecap Bay. "It is a Spanish Colony, not that they care much for it."

Prudence's face hardened, "You're Spanish then?"

Syrena shrugged, "Little bit of this, little of that. My grandfather was Spanish and my mother French. There are a few others blended in there as well. However, my father was English and a proper gentleman."

"Well, he will be relieved to see you're safe."

Her smile faltered, "Unfortunately he is not among this world anymore. The pirates saw to that."

"Oh, you poor thing," Prudence said in the tone she would to hearing about a carriage trip being delayed an hour from a broken axel. "Yes, I heard something about the last of a family. Are you certain there is no one left? Perhaps a cousin or an aunt or maybe… a sister?"

It took all Syrena had not to narrow her eyes. She knew that Prudence was digging, but such a specific reference to mermaid culture put her on her guard. Gillette must have shared something with his wife, and perhaps in a testament at how well matched their marriage was, Prudence appeared to believe him to some degree.

Well, two can play that game.

"Since you mention it, yes," Syrena answered. "I do have a Sister, though we have been estranged for some time. Different fathers, you know."

"Oh yes, quite a disagreeable situation," Prudence was caught up by the bait. "Women should have more sense than running around with multiple men, just having children with whomever will take them. I told Damien that when he goes to his grave, that's it for me. Men are enough of a bother as it is, and it flounce around with children from different men is just shameful. I will tell you that there's no room at my table for such Jezebels."

"Actually, I would call them Michal for the disgraceful act of betraying David with marriage to another man. Truly her behaviour was most shameful. I mean, criticizing him for dancing before the Ark of the Covenant. I am glad that God cursed her not to bear David any children being as unworthy as she was."

Prudence blinked; she had not expected this strange and likely – God forbid – Catholic French Spaniard to so casually display intimate knowledge of the bible.

"I can see why you've caught the eye of Philip Swift."

Playing her part, Syrena demurely blushed, "I would not say that-"

"Don't try to hide it, Child. Damien has told me everything. Mister Swift is utterly smitten; anyone can see that. Why, Damien even told me that he once carried you across the deck."

"Right, uh…" Syrena nervously twisted the fabric of her skirt, "I have a strange leg condition and Philip – Mister Swift helped me during our time with the pirates. We had a chance to escape but I could not walk, and uh… it was nothing improper I assure you."

"Oh, of course, virtuous girl such as yourself," Prudence was polite but clearly did not buy it. "You know, I had an aunt who was bedbound from some leg problems. Perhaps it was the same thing?"

"I think not. From what I understand what I have is rather rare."

"I'm sure it is."

Syrena did not like the smile on Prudence's face.

"Are those your children?" Syrena already knew the answer but needed any excuse to get off the subject.

Not far off, the children were hanging off Gillette, telling him all about David and the evil giant Goliath. The boys playfully pushed at each other, roughhousing, but when it got a bit too intense, their father wordlessly pulled them away from each other. He gave them a good hard pat on the back and reminded them to be gentlemen. Then he reached down and pulled his little daughter up to ride on his shoulders. Prudence smiled at the scene and little herself be lost in it for a moment of happiness.

For as much of an odious prick Damien Gillette was, Syrena had to admit that at least his family seemed to like him.

But then Damien and Prudence's eyes met, Damien nodded, and Prudence straightened. Instantly they were back to the formidable team of people who just can't stay out of other people's business.

"Will you be staying here long?" Prudence asked.

Syrena shrugged, "I am taking things as they go. Governor Swann has been very gracious in offering his home to me for however long I need it. I have come to enjoy the company of Mister Swift, Miss Swann, and Mister Turner."

"You're not the only one." Prudence nodded towards Rachel Brown in the middle of conversation with old friends of hers, Rachel is back in town. She and Mister Turner I believe we're intended at one time. Funny to think that Rachel returns just in time to see Turner home. Perhaps they might look to rekindle things."

"I doubt it. He and Elizabeth seem pretty happy together," the words slipped out before Syrena could stop them. "Uh, I mean-"

"Oh, don't worry, Dear. Everyone knows that Turner has gotten delusions of grandeur lately. You should have seen the scene he pulled at the Fort the morning after the raid."

"I heard he wasted a perfectly good map."

"Thank the Lord that my Damien would never pull such a stunt over me."

Not snorting in that moment was the hardest thing Syrena ever did in her life.

"But I wouldn't worry too much, I suppose," Prudence said thoughtfully. "People of Miss Swann's class and people of Mister Turner's class are like oil and water. These flights of fancy cross class romances tend to sort themselves out in the end."

Syrena regarded her, the rest of the implication unspoken.

People of Philip and Syrena's classes shouldn't mix.

"You know, we're hosting a ball on the 20th," Prudence said. "It's a sort of welcome home to the crew of the Dauntless and congratulations on their accomplishment. I've already invited your hosts, but I think I might find an invitation left to extend to you if you are still here."

"Oh no, I could not."

"It's not a bother at all. After all, we're just breaking the surface of getting to know each other, aren't we?"

Syrena narrowed her eyes, "Yes, I am quite skilled at that."

"I'm sure you are," Prudence's smile was pleasant but her voice level. "Perhaps you could give a demonstration of your operatic skills? Damien says you have quite the nice singing voice."

"Yes, it is most enchanting."

"We'll see you there then?"

"I would not miss it."

"I look forward to it."

Syrena watched as Prudence Gillette turned on her heel, going straight for her husband. Instantly the pair were all whispers and points as they debriefed from the interrogation.

She smirked; fine, if that was the game they wanted to play, Syrena would dance for them. Sparring with innuendos was the most they could do without solid proof, least they wished to be locked up in the madhouse for claiming mermaids were real. Syrena would jab all the coded references and veiled threats they wanted; there was nothing they could truly do to hurt her.

If only she had seen the sealed letter Lieutenant Gillette passed to Archdeacon Rutherford before departing for home.