Will jolted into a blind and confused wakefulness, enshrouded by shadows his eyes couldn't immediately pierce. A few blinks pulled darkness' veil back enough to reveal the corners and crevices of his bedroom, dawn's pale glow leaking through the shutters of his window. He let out a mild grunt of annoyance to himself then turned to lie on his stomach, burying his face in the crook of one elbow to better shield himself from the creeping light. His mind had roused itself for his usual routine. But this was the one day of the week the smithy wasn't open — he'd pulled a very late night knowing he could sleep late to make up for it. If he could coax himself into sleeping the entire morning away, he would.
He let his eyes slip closed, and tried to fall back into the mists of his previous slumber.
Knock, knock, knock, knock!
He tensed then rose his head, blinking anew. 'What the hell…?'
Was that coming from their door or down the street? Was it what had woken him? Who could possibly be awake and needing attention at this hour on a Sunday? If there were a fire or some other pressing incident, surely he'd hear more of a ruckus outside. But there was no noise on the streets to signal the rising of other townsfolk, no alarm bells, or voices, or cartwheels, or footsteps. The rest of the town was at peace.
Whoever was at the door could piss off until Monday, Will decided. He nestled his forehead back against his forearm and clamped his eyes shut.
Knock, knock, knock, knock!
'No.' He grit his teeth and clenched his fists. 'Piss. Off.'
He would not move.
Knock-knock-knock-knock-knock-knock-knock—!
'Oh my god!' Whoever it was would wake up half the neighborhood at this rate. With a growl Will scrambled out of his bed, shuffled into his trousers, and stumbled from his room to the front door, which he unlatched in hasty motions dressed by a peeved snarl.
"This better be really bloody important–!"
He threw the door open wide.
Elizabeth's fist settled into a mid-air stop as she missed her mark, casting her eyes upon Will's scowling face. She bit her lip and cocked a single eyebrow. Will's scowl melted away, his breath caught in his chest, both taken by the crispness of the morning and the unexpected vision before him.
"Good morning, Mister Turner," Elizabeth chirped her greeting to the tune of the early songbirds. "Your carriage has arrived."
"Elizabeth!" he whispered his awe, all thoughts of censure vanishing like a ghost. His heart was now dancing in a whirl from the sharp subversion of his expectations, tossed as he was from the depths of his sleepy frustration to a thrilling height of jubilation. Nevermind the carriage. "You're early!"
Her teeth flashed happily under the lavender shadows that still hid her from the sun. "Or perhaps I am merely–Oh!"
Almost without thinking he'd taken her arm and drawn her over the threshold. Catching sight of Miss Trattles behind her, he threw out a quick, "Come inside."
The maid frolicked up the stairs after her mistress. Then the door was shut, the three of them enclosed in the dim hollows of the sleeping house's walls.
The whats, whys, hows no longer mattered. In half an instant, Will's hands flew from Elizabeth's arms to her face as quickly her own fingers grasped his shoulders, and the pair fell upon each other in a dizzying mixture of hot breath and frantically wet kisses. Their lips embraced and danced in rounds, one, two, three, seeking the best way to taste and touch their partner as much as possible. Will was hardly thinking at this point, his pulse beating in his ears, becoming so quickly intoxicated by the scent of her perfumes and the warm silkiness of her skin and hair. Soon the kisses they created were not enough. He dipped his head, pressing the slant of his mouth fully across hers and bumping his nose against her cheek in the process.
He felt the tender plush of her lips pull tight into a grin, and he relaxed his hold on her, right when Miss Trattles threw open the room's first window.
Sunlight bounced about the room, landing upon Elizabeth's face as softly as his hands cradled her, and his heart did a little flip over the ardor shining in her eyes. How could it be that he'd earned the privilege of her looking at him in such a way? And how was it she looked more mesmerizing to him each time he looked upon her?
"So you admit that you missed me," she teased in a breathless whisper.
He shook his head. A laugh puffed from his chest as he brushed one thumb over her lips. "I believe I readily confessed as much before you'd even left."
Her grin shifted to a mischievous smirk, eyes falling to his mouth as her fingers wrapped about the collar of his shirt. "Hm. I believe I'll require some more reminders."
Elizabeth tugged Will back towards her, stepping up onto her toes to roughly intercept his mouth on its way to meet hers, and clumsily bumping her chin to his along the way. His hands left her face, one seeking out the back of her neck while the other steadied their embrace at her waist. He could feel the meager distance between their bodies almost as tangibly as he could feel Elizabeth herself, calling to be closed. And when he felt the unexpected, tentative touch of her tongue upon his lips, he opened his mouth to her almost by instinct.
She parted from him before responding with anything newer, capturing his gaze in a heated tangle while she slowly stepped out of his arms and left him feeling quite bereft. "But we can continue at home. Father is waiting, and then I have the entire day planned for you and I."
Mention of Elizabeth's father began to help his pulse slow and his mind settle. So she had surprised him so insistently ahead in the morning with the intent to kidnap him and bestow another affectionate shower. "Again?"
She blinked as Estrella opened another window, then lifted her chin to Will almost as though to dare him to defy her.
"Yes, again. And this one is going to be filled with the most exceptional treats and all sorts of play. So you better have a good plan for your first outing in charge, if you want to overcome me."
Before he could think to resist, his eyes flitted to Elizabeth's breasts, which she had left undressed by any scarf despite the rest of her not being attired for any formal occasion. The glance had been unintentional, a raw impulse responding to her open flirtation, and it wasn't the first time to have happened with her bold assortment of necklines—except usually she wasn't looking straight at him at the moment of glancing. He attempted to use the momentum of his falling gaze to continue looking down and pretend he'd intended to watch his step while he slid a little closer to her. There was a heat radiating under his collar now, a signal of the strange mixture of the many different types of excitement humming together under his skin.
"I have been plotting for your swift and sound surrender soon, I assure you," he answered with his own grin, reaching to tangle the fingers of one of her hands with his.
What he claimed was true. Especially after receiving her strange letter, when the forge had cooled and the last of the smithy's candles snuffed out for the night, Will's mind had begun to spin schemes and dreams over what he could—and sometimes what he ought not yet—do to repay Elizabeth's affections in his oncoming free time. While he hadn't settled completely on a real plan just yet, there were a great many ideas he'd toyed with for their first day together under his command.
But that would be another day.
For now, the notion that it would soon arrive was enough to purse Elizabeth's pretty mouth into a pleased pattern. This he looked at openly. Then she playfully tossed Will's hand in the direction of the back of the house, signaling where she wished he should walk.
"Then get dressed, sir! It seems we have a very exciting duel ahead."
As Will smiled back at her, still burning a little from the effects she had upon him, their gazes met and mingled once more with a surprising little sizzle. He couldn't resist bending to press one more kiss upon Elizabeth's cheek before he followed her command to disappear into his bedroom.
Roused, aroused and somewhat alone again at last, Will's mind began to finally try and make sense of what exactly was happening. He'd been so fast asleep he could barely remember when he'd drifted off or whether he'd been dreaming of anything. Then he'd been so disoriented and disgruntled by the shock of waking, he'd hardly had time to consider how Elizabeth had mentioned before her intentions of returning by Sunday, or how the governor had invited him for dinner. But dinner would come later in the day, and Elizabeth had never once come to visit him before noon. In the end there was plenty reason to wonder over her sudden, spectacular appearance at his door and how it had laid him to waste too easily.
He half wondered whether he'd really awoken at all.
He attempted to dress quickly, excited as he was for whatever Elizabeth had plotted for their day. It was not difficult. Owning as little as he did, there was not a lot to be done for Will's dressing. He'd already put on his only breeches in his earlier quest to answer the door. He also already had some water left in his basin for a hasty clean-up, as well as one fresh shirt he had saved in anticipation of his visit. There was only the same, fraying brown waistcoat to shrug over his shoulders that he wore everyday. He tied his woolen stockings about his knee, then secured them further by fastening the final buttons of the aforementioned trousers. And he had no jewelry, no buckles besides the humble iron pair that he kept affixed to his single pair of shoes.
It was while he was trying to make some sense out of the tangled mess of curls upon his head that he heard Elizabeth's voice chide her minder, "Don't worry, we'll leave the door open." Then she knocked upon his door frame.
"May I intrude?"
He stopped his efforts and turned to face her with a smile, feeling simultaneously thrilled and embarrassed at her appearance. "If I grant permission, is it actually an intrusion?"
"I suppose not," she conceded with another cheerful display of her charming, slightly crooked teeth. Her eyes darted to the horn-molded comb he held, then whisked about his room—probably seeking a mirror that he simply did not own. Ending her quick search, she stepped towards him with her right hand outstretched, asking wordlessly for the comb.
He placed it in her palm, and turned his back to her. For several minutes they said not a word as she dipped his comb into the water of his wash basin, setting about working out a stubborn knot in his hair. Once she'd finished her taming, she stepped to examine him from the side, giving him a peculiar smile with sparkling eyes.
"What?" he asked, unsure if he should be concerned by her scrutiny or if he should laugh.
"Nothing."
Her face said something that was very much the opposite, but he didn't bother to prod her any further.
She returned to stand behind him. With a few deft strokes, she'd gathered his hair into a queue at the base of his neck and held it for him while he tied it off with the scrap of cloth he kept for the job. While he couldn't look at himself, he ran a hand over his head, appreciating the tidy work he felt under his fingers.
Elizabeth smiled at Will, and he reached to give her hand an appreciative squeeze.
"Thank you."
"Of course," she replied with a nonchalant shrug, then stepped to place his comb upon his wash stand.
As she did so, she looked about the small chamber with inquisitive eyes, taking in its single window, lone shelf, wash stand, and pair of small bedsteads. He was acutely aware of how little he had for her to examine. It was a dark hovel in spite of the walls' whitewashing. There were trinkets from the smithy and a small number of books upon the shelf, which Elizabeth would likely recognize as gifts she had given him in prior years. His coat hung from a row of mostly empty pegs on one wall, and at the foot of his bed there stood a fair-sized chest with only a few things inside. There were no lamps in his room—only a stand for a single candle, which he had forged himself.
She took it all in slowly. Her scrutiny of his humble quarters made him shift a little discomfort, and he began the job of buttoning up his shirt and waistcoat for a distraction.
"I don't think I've ever seen your room before," Elizabeth remarked lightly, at last. She wandered to the bookshelf and observed the different little forged firsts he'd kept for a collection, the colorful arrangement of pretty rocks and seashells.
"It wasn't mine until well after you'd stopped coming by."
"And such a shame!" she sighed melodramatically, as she spun about with a rustle of her skirts and walked across the room. "You even have a spare bed I could have taken all this time!"
He realized what she was about with some alarm, and tried to reach out for her. "No-no! You don't want—"
Elizabeth sat upon the bed before he could stop her. The puff of a large cloud of dust practically exploded about her in the process. She tried to stand in order to escape, but the sagging ropes of the bedstead made it a much more difficult effort than it should have been. Will held out a hand to haul her to her feet, and together they rushed out of the room coughing as they waited for the dust to quite literally settle.
"No one's touched that tick in quite some time…" Will explained once he could breathe freely. "It needs to be refilled and have the devil beaten out of it."
"Thank you for the warning," Elizabeth responded between her coughs, waving her hands about to shoo the dust cloud away. "Lord!"
As the moment calmed, their eyes met. Then as if of one mind, they turned to look at Elizabeth's maid, who herself appeared halfway as though she had just witnessed a murder with the horror upon her face.
Together they all began to laugh.
Once the humor of the moment had passed, Elizabeth peeked back into the bedroom, her face pinching into a mournful pout. "Oh, I've made a complete mess of your room. Look, you can see it everywhere."
Sure enough, a smattering of dirty powder had settled across the floor and furniture, and a small amount could be seen still suspended in the air.
"I'll take care of it later," Will replied, giving her shoulders what he hoped was a forgiving touch as he stepped back into the dust to fetch his coat. It was somewhat his fault for neglecting the other mattress for as long as he had. There'd been no reason for not emptying it sooner, only procrastination. "If you wish to sit, you may sit on mine. Although it also needs tightening…"
Apparently, Elizabeth had interpreted his invitation to be immediate, since she brushed past him and practically threw herself up his bed.
"Ooh!" she grunted a little when she landed, then looked at him with a teasing glimmer in her eyes. "And yet quite firm, isn't it?"
He felt his embarrassment begin to return—the tick was only stuffed with straw and was old enough much of it had compacted down to the point that even flipping it didn't help much. It was another thing he hoped to take care of soon. But it wasn't the worst thing he'd ever slept on, far from it.
"It's better than the floor," he rationalized aloud. He could hear Miss Trattles moving outside the door, probably trying to get a better view and make sure nothing too far astray from propriety was taking place, what with talk of the comfort of beds and all.
"True…" Elizabeth responded softly, then let her gaze drift away from him back about the room, suddenly appearing thoughtful. Before he could ask her what she was thinking, she made it known by musing, "So this is where Will Turner falls asleep each night."
Will wasn't quite sure why, but the thought of her picturing him sleeping brought a renewed wave of heat to his face. With her eyes wandering elsewhere, he allowed his to roam over her face and body in the way he had barely avoided before, marveling at every dip and curve he could see in her form, the smooth shadows upon her skin and hair. She looked as lovely as she ever had, reclining upon his most private of spaces and brushing evermore closely against his most private of thoughts. Yet it struck him how she also looked so out of place, lying upon something hardly better than a plain and narrow rucksack, enrobed and adorned in soft linen flowers, every bit a lady in her appearance. He had a solid guess in this case it wasn't at all what she was talking or thinking about, but he couldn't help recalling those words in her last letter, the ones that had claimed what she wanted and felt. And he found himself wishing, wishing that he could make a place for her to lie that truly suited her, wishing that he could lie with her in that place, late one Sunday morning, and suit her just as well.
That would be a worship he would happily attend to weekly.
Although oblivious to his thoughts, Elizabeth managed to cut them short when she turned onto her side and nestled her nose into his pillow for a spell.
She let out a breath. "It smells like you."
The warmth on his skin changed. He felt his nerves seize up for a moment, now remembering the other things she had written to him and eying self-consciously the last specks of dust that were settling on the window sill. He tried to keep such noticeable parts of his job and his day from his bed, but he had a feeling it wasn't effort enough.
"What do I smell like…?"
"Like smoke and soot…" Her words confirming his suspicions were slow, tapering off into thought. When he looked back at her to discover why she had fallen silent, he found her with her eyes shut, breathing in the specter of his presence around her once again, quietly. "Like your forge and this straw and something… mm, I don't know how to put it: just Will."
'Nothing,' a little voice in the back of Will's mind jeered. 'Straw and soot may be better than a barnyard, but still she smells the scent of someone with nothing, even if she hasn't realized it yet.'
But when Elizabeth opened her eyes to find him again, he saw none of the shame he had foisted upon himself. Instead, she smiled, and all he could see was the depths of her admiration for that something, whatever it was, that she always managed to see in him.
The taunts in his mind fell silent. A smile crept upon his lips in response to her.
"May I ask you something else?" he asked in a low voice.
"Of course," Elizabeth responded, her brow pinching in curiosity.
He walked to the chest at the foot of his bed, flipping it open and withdrawing a smaller box from inside it. Ever drawn by the allure of secrets, Elizabeth had crawled to the foot of Will's bed in order to peek over the lid of the chest and discover what it was Will would unveil. He smiled unbidden at the way her gaze openly followed his hands while he lifted the lid of the smaller box and plucked a folded sheet from atop the stack of papers inside.
Then her eyes widened in recognition at her very own letter.
"Oh no…" she gasped under her breath, sitting back on her heels and placing one hand over her chest as if to placate herself. But the appearance of her dread was quickly mixed with an eagerness, and she shifted to kneel on the bed in such a way that she could peer over his shoulder as he sat on the lid of the re-closed chest with the letter in hand. "What did I say?"
"That's a large part of my question…" Will half-laughed in response, unfolding the letter and unveiling its brief contents.
"Oh my lord…" she groaned, then reached around him and snatched the letter out of hands. She began to giggle as she looked it over and waved it back in Will's face. "I didn't feel like it at the time, but I was so drunk, Will. Look at this!"
"I've looked at it nightly for the past few days," he responded, now grinning ear to ear, infected by her own amusement. "But I'm afraid there are a few things I don't quite understand…"
He leaned upon the bed with his elbow and stretched to look at the letter, locating and pointing to the strongly smeared salutation. Might as well start at the beginning.
Elizabeth bit her lip to hold in a laugh.
"Oh, it's so smudged I'm not even certain. Wait a moment…" She brought the letter closer to her face to try and make out her pen strokes. After a few moments she made a little noise of triumph and read proudly, "'My most handsomest of pirates…' "
The grin that split across Will's face was automatic and instant, a bloom of happiness spreading over him at her uncovered compliment. "Most handsomest?!"
He must've sounded incredulous, because Elizabeth pressed her lips together in a manner that suggested she couldn't decide whether she was embarrassed at all. All the same, she also seemed somewhat pleased with herself so far.
"Yes, well…" she cocked one eyebrow at him as she scooted in a little closer to better share a view of the letter, "… apparently, wine intensifies my feelings at the expense of my grammar."
He held back a laugh. Grammar hadn't been on his mind at all.
"I'm just glad to have the mystery solved," he tried to joke back, but his humor began to fade into the fondness that filled him at the sight, sound, and sensation of her close beside him once again, intensified after their week apart. In addition to all the other feelings that had been accosting him throughout the morning, there was the way Elizabeth seemed lighthearted to a degree he hadn't seen in a good while. Seeing her so made him feel lighter as well. "You enjoyed yourself, then?"
Her lips curled and her eyes crinkled in remembered delight when they met his. "I did. I would love to tell you all about it—there were several things I wanted to share with you immediately, except you were so much farther away…"
Those eyes held an enchantment without utterance, cast upon him anew as he watched her and fell enthralled by the way she watched him in return.
"I would love to hear every minute of it," he responded to her sincerely. There were few things that sounded better to him right now than climbing beside her to lie down and listen to her speak about anything at all throughout the morning, if it meant she would continue to look and speak to him the way she had been today… And if he could take little tastes of her in the parts in between her story's chapters, he would not complain either.
But Miss Trattles sneezed in the main room, and the spell was broken. As if to avoid falling under it again, they both dropped their eyes to the letter, now set upon Elizabeth's lap.
"What about this part?" Will asked, pointing to her first little paragraph—the one that had prompted him to unveil the letter to begin with.
She lifted the letter to better read it, partially out loud. "'When I return I shall shower you with…' Well obviously, I just meant I would bring you some to try."
He smirked at her. "Yes, that part was easy to figure out."
Will cast his eyes back down to the letter to goad her into reading on. Obviously confused and curious, she turned to continue.
"'You've also never had a proper bath, and–' Oh, no!" she gasped as she saw where her past words had taken her. The letter was dropped to her lap while she looked at Will with a pout of apologetic pity. She began to giggle as she laid her hand on his arm, insisting, "It's not what it sounds like. I don't know why I wrote it that way."
He couldn't help but also laugh a little at her reaction as much as from his own relief. "I was hoping it might not be, but to be honest it wasn't certain."
Her hand came to touch her mouth in delayed shock, and her giggles began to grow louder and settle deeper into her belly, until she threw her head back in an unconstrained laugh and fell into Will's side.
"'You need a bath,' I said!" Elizabeth cackled. "You were sitting here for days wondering whether I think–!"
She couldn't finish speaking for her laughter, and she let the peels of her own amusement take over her body for the moment.
"Is it really that funny?" Will asked, though he was grinning widely in spite of his feeling lost and maybe still a little self-conscious.
"Yes, because I was trying…" A laugh heaved up from her chest, stopping her. "It was meant to be–oh lord."
Another wave of giggles overtook her, and Will waited while smiling and shaking his head at the way she could not seem to control herself, utterly confused at what the joke was to her. Eventually she took a few steadying breaths, fanning herself with her open hand.
"It was meant to be an invitation, not an imputation," she sighed.
Will wasn't sure what that meant, but guessed it was something like an insult or critique.
Elizabeth sat back up straight and went on in her explanation, "My hosts had drawn me a hot bath earlier that evening, to soothe and rest my body after my journey. Lounging in the water made me think of how you've likely never had such a pleasure, in spite of your labors. Evidently those thoughts stayed with me into the night." She reached out to him with one hand, to brush the backs of her fingers across his cheek. "'You need a bath soon,' because you work yourself weary and deserve rest and comfort. That's what I meant."
Another sensation surged through him now, one he wasn't sure how to define but which quickly began to overwhelm him. The way that she had been thinking of him so, wishing well for him, dreaming up ways to alleviate his pains and share her pleasures, even while stupefied by strong drink and journeying miles apart… He was loved. And he almost couldn't believe someone such as her existed anywhere, let alone in his life.
"Thank you," he whispered as he gazed up at her, and it felt meager. How could he ever love her enough in return?
"I do hate to interrupt," Miss Trattles interjected from the doorway, "but I feel you ought to remember why we came in the first place, miss. The carriage is still waiting."
Will felt a twinge of disappointment over the interruption while Elizabeth's gaze dropped, seeming to concede her servant's point.
"We are dallying," she sighed, and began to fold her letter back up.
When she held the letter out for him to take, he placed a hand softly upon her wrist and pushed it back towards her.
"If you would like to bring it with you, keep it. We can talk about the rest later."
It was fascinating what a little time and distance could do. Not only had her trip allowed Elizabeth and her father to sort through their differences a little better, it had affected her feelings for Will as well—something she had not anticipated.
Her excitement throughout the night had been so intense, Elizabeth guessed she must've slept for a total of two or three hours at most. She felt a little guilty rousing Estrella and the coachmen as early as she had, but there came a point she had been so restless with anticipation she had honestly considered taking a horse or walking into town all on her own. She promised herself to allow them all a later start Monday morning. She could persuade her father to allow it, she was certain.
The point was: the day had hardly begun, hardly anything had been done, yet Elizabeth already felt as though she was overflowing with elation. She had thoroughly enjoyed surprising Will with her wake up call. So much so, she could have been satisfied lounging with him in his room the entire day after the success of her surprise. Had Estrella not pushed them along, that might have been exactly what they would have done. But now they were loaded into the carriage with Estrella and Mister Burley, Elizabeth having had her insistence of Will sitting beside her instead of before. The door had hardly shut when she had taken the liberty of looping her arm through his, enjoying the opportunity to lay her head upon his shoulder for the entirety of their brief ride home.
She wasn't certain why she felt so intensely as she did today— it wasn't as though a week was an abnormal length of time for them to be physically separated. In fact, it hadn't even been a full week, which made her feelings seem all the more absurd. Perhaps it had to do with the loss of the stream of notes they'd grown accustomed to sending up and down the hill to each other; perhaps it was just knowing the distance between them would take hours instead of minutes to cross; perhaps it was the quickly changing boundaries between them; perhaps it was the types of topics her friends had kept bringing up during her visit… Whatever the reason and in spite of the pleasure her visit had been, the passing of the days away from Will had felt heavy in a manner she couldn't remember experiencing before. It made reuniting feel all the more uplifting. Even the simple pleasure of entwining her fingers between his made her feel as though her feet had left the ground.
Maybe there really was something to the sayings that love was a type of madness? Or those old fashioned notions about absence and fonder hearts? If so, she could hardly imagine what it would be like to ever to be parted from him for longer…
Once the carriage had pulled through the manor gates and up to the main house, the sun had finally begun to peak over the mountains and pour its rays across the treetops like honey. Elizabeth disentangled herself from Will—although she did keep a light hand upon his back until Mister Burley opened the door for her to disembark.
To her surprise, her father was the one who assisted her step down to the ground, already dressed for the day, down to the silver buckles on his shoes. She had been expecting him to still be asleep around the time she'd returned home, and shot him a vaguely guilty smile with her lips pressed inward as she walked past him to wait for Will.
He also waited, and nodded a greeting once Will exited the carriage in a wide stride. "Mister Turner, good morning."
"Good morning, sir!" Will replied, seeming genuinely chipper.
Elizabeth's father offered a polite smile. "I apologize for the early call–it would seem there was someone who couldn't quite bear to wait for you."
He took a moment to cast a lightly scolding look in Elizabeth's direction. While he clearly did mean to hint at her that she may have been inconsiderate in her actions, it was mostly done in a manner meant to tease.
Elizabeth chose to press back with her own jibe, also rooted in truth. "I waited plenty! You don't want to know what time I would have summoned him had I let real impatience get the better of me."
Both men shook their heads to themselves, and Elizabeth bit her lip in amusement over the rare moment of similarity between them. Neither of them seemed to notice completely, although Will shot a brief, inquisitive look in her direction. She offered a little shrug to him in return, hoping he'd understand it didn't matter for now, as she reached to reclaim her spot upon his arm. He accepted her touch by lifting his elbow a little then covering her tucked-in hand with his own, meeting her gaze in a smile—a comforting pose that seemed to be on its way to becoming a favorite of theirs.
"I think an early call is small payment for the privilege of such wonderful company—although I do hope it wasn't too much trouble for you or your stable," Will responded to her father. He offered a little bow. "Thank you for the carriage, sir."
Elizabeth's eyes roved over Will's profile, suddenly struck by the question of where Will had learned to be so quick with his tongue. Though he was a simple blacksmith's apprentice, he had a surprising ability not only for quick verbal riposte but also for unexpected bursts of diplomatic turns of phrase. It was made all the more unusual in considering the way his eloquence was paired with an apparent lacking in the type of foresight that one might expect from someone with a truly silver tongue. It was as though his sharpness was only ever pointed at specific moments in time, and it wasn't something she observed in many other people she knew…
She had used to argue with him when they were children, simply for the fun of it. For a time, silly debates without wider reaching consequences had been half of their play. Could that have had something to do with it? Or maybe it had to do with handling the smithy's clientèle…?
Her father and admirer continued their conversation with her father waving his hand at Will's expression of thanks.
"I can hardly take credit. But I'll make sure Mister Spotswood receives your well wishes."
"And my thanks, father," Elizabeth interjected, feeling a small, renewed sense of guilt over having stirred the stables without prior warning.
"Of course," he agreed with a gentle smile.
The trio fell silent, all seeming to have run out of things to say with the way they looked at each other, waiting for someone bold enough to continue the conversation while the morning birds sang about their business. Under her hands, Elizabeth could feel Will's arms begin to tense ever so slightly, clearly becoming uncomfortable or even somewhat alarmed by their sudden social lull.
She opened her mouth to offer a remedy—her father got to it before her.
"Well," he interjected, gesturing towards the house, "we have many things ahead of us today—and I won't be counting breakfast among the least of them. Shall we?"
Exchanging a privately grateful smile with her father for his practiced gentility, Elizabeth gave Will's arm a gentle pull to lead him up the front steps. Together they clipped the corner of the foyer to walk through a pair propped-open doors on the right, into the dining room. One of the household's kitchen maids looked up with a gasp from where she stood at the sideboard, having just set down a platter of cheese and cold cuts. Visibly alarmed at having been seen by their guest, she hastily bowed her head with a curtsy and turned to rush through the second pair of doors, disappearing back to the cook house without a word.
While Will's brow was furrowed, he didn't give any other hint of his thoughts as his eyes wandered around the dining hall. She knew he'd seen it before—when they'd first arrived at Port Royal, he'd worked for a short time as a mansion hall boy before being moved to the stables as a postilion and eventually to Brown's forge in town. More recently, he'd paid a few visits when occasion called for it—their meeting less than a month ago and his delivery the morning of the Black Pearl's attack, to name a few instances. But this was the first time he'd ever entered the hall with an intent to be seated and enjoy its hospitalities, and she wondered what he was thinking as his eyes wandered over its updated decor.
Eventually, he looked to her with some uncertainty in his eyes, a tangible hesitation in his body, and Elizabeth tutted herself in her mind. A similar thing had happened when they were being loaded into the carriage—Will didn't know what he was supposed to do, and she hadn't realized how unobvious it could be to someone kept outside her world.
Attempting to reassure him with a smile, she guided him to the sideboard and took a plate as a demonstration for him to model.
"Take whatever you like, Will," she entreated him gently, gesturing to the offerings across the sideboard: bread and cakes, butter and cheese, meats and jellies, fruits and jams—a wide variety of things all kept leftover from the evening before. "There's plenty to go around."
Ever so slightly, his eyebrows rose and eyes widened in wonder. "Clearly…"
But Will appeared somewhat frozen, and her father looked at Elizabeth with a confused expression from over Will's shoulder. She pressed her lips together to tame the smile that had begun to creep across her face, charmed with pity for her guest but not wanting to embarrass him by making him feel foolish. Probably he was just a little paralyzed by indecision over the options before him. So again, she chose to act as his guide, placing a comforting hand on his shoulder while she handed her plate to him and took a second one for herself. Then she picked about her preferences for her own morning meal, asking Will whether or not he would like to try some of this thing or that as she did so, and offering him the chance to serve himself after her.
Once they both had loaded their plates, Elizabeth selected a seat at the table and touched the chair beside it to indicate where Will ought to sit. Actually, Will probably ought to sit across from her, but again she was inclined to ignore that convention, keeping him at her side. Her father served his own plate and took a seat at the head of the table. Anticipating Will not remembering to bring his own cutlery, a few knives and napkins were retrieved from the cupboard, and the trio tucked into their meal.
Mister Paterson arrived from the kitchens with a tea set, which he set in the center of the table, before turning courteously in their direction.
"What to drink, sirs, miss?"
"Coffee, please," her father replied immediately, punctuated by an expression that clearly communicated he felt he was going to need it for the day.
On the other hand, Will's brow creased in uncertainty once again as he let out a thoughtful and somewhat uncouth, "Ah…"
There were so many little things that Elizabeth hadn't realized he could have questions about. Was a casual thing like breakfast really all that different to him? Yet again, she stepped in on his behalf, asking, "What do you normally drink?"
"Elizabeth…" her father chided.
She knew why—decorum dictated a good host would do everything in their power to make a guest feel as though they belonged on equal footing as everyone else in attendance. Technically it was extremely rude to ask questions that could draw attention to differences in status or wealth between guests or the hosts.
But in this particular instance Elizabeth saw things differently, and chose to say as much, retorting, "What? He should be allowed to have whatever he likes."
Her father did not appear convinced, but left the matter alone.
"Just small beer or milk, usually…" Will answered cautiously. His eyes flitted to the tea set for a moment before awkwardly adding, "Although I wouldn't say it's because I like or dislike it much either way. I'll take whatever is… typical."
Ah. That explained it. It wasn't so much a question of what seemed appetizing so much as what was their custom. While Will had begun to abandon a good number of the social norms that had held him back from the life he wanted, evidently there was a part of him still interested in respecting some convention… Actually, now that she thought about it, there was a greater chance he was simply trying to improve her father's impression of his demeanor. Either way, he was making an effort to fit in.
As for what was "typical," beer and milk were both perfectly respectable, if a little old fashioned. And part of Elizabeth's excitement for the day had been wrapped up in her plans to allow Will to try as many luxuries as he pleased. So before calling for Will's usual choices, she chose to give him an offer:
"How's your taste for tea?"
He blinked then offered a timid smile. "I don't know, actually."
She thought that might be the case.
"Would you like to try it? It's quite good with milk, and could be something a little new."
She could tell from his expression he meant to say yes—in fact, she saw the beginnings of the word form on his lips. But for some reason he stopped himself and hesitated. His lips remained parted, and she could make out subtle movements of his tongue inside his mouth as he seemed to debate over what would be the best way to express his acceptance.
Perhaps a little bit of schooling would help him feel more comfortable in these situations in the future.
Elizabeth placed a reassuring hand over his to signal she understood Will's intent, then responded on his behalf, "Tea for both of us, Paterson, thank you."
Mister Paterson laid a tea cup before Will and Elizabeth each, which he filled one after the other, before giving a little bow to dismiss himself to the cook house for the preparation of the governor's coffee. As the footman left and the pressure of decision passed, Elizabeth busied herself with drawing the milk and sugar closer to their seats, and Will let out a deep sigh.
"Thank you," he whispered to her lowly.
She leaned into him and placed a gentle peck upon his cheek, reminded once more how blissfully novel it felt to have him sitting beside her, at her father's table, sharing a relaxed morning as though they were already, truly family.
Eating was easy, thank god. Will already knew the most basic rules of polite table conduct, at least enough to not make the mistake of leaning upon the table or other habits Missus Brown had emphasized were "slovenly" while she was alive. He seemed to mostly be matching the conduct of Elizabeth and her father, anyway. Not a moment too soon either—he'd been starting to feel like a ball chained around Elizabeth's ankle, with the way he kept second-guessing himself all morning. Normally he would have dived right in or asked questions openly, but he'd been determined to step in and out of this meeting with Elizabeth's father by standing on the right feet. Foot. Feet?
The food, as expected, shamed anything he'd been cooking himself and a large majority of the tavern's food, even cold. Not counting what she'd offered him before in her gift baskets, he'd had different versions before of many of the things Elizabeth had served them, including the tea, but all of it was of cheaper stuff or prepared quite differently. He hadn't the heart nor tact to politely tell her earlier that he downright hated whatever sort of tea he'd had in the past. But the stuff Elizabeth's people were getting seemed to be in a class of its own—he'd daresay he even liked it.
Small talk was also something he felt he had a reasonable handle on, although no small amount of credit could be given to both of the Swanns in providing easy and engaging topics to talk about. The governor in particular maintained an impressive breadth of knowledge regarding the town's most influential artisans and merchants, and was able to inquire after the health of a number of Mister Brown's most important clients and business partners. The setting also granted Will and Governor Swann the opportunity to listen to a few stories about Elizabeth's short adventure with her friend—or friends, as it turned out.
With great animation, she regaled them with a summation of her first day, recounting the humorous circumstances that had culminated in her drunken letter to Will. There was a terrifying moment Will had worried she would produce the letter as a grand finale to the tale, but in the end she was wiser than that and the letter stayed secreted in her pocket, sparing the two of them any pre-mature mortifications in front of her father.
No, ultimately it was a fantastic reminder of how talented a storyteller Elizabeth could be, as she filled the room with their laughter over her comedy of errors, culminating in her accidental insult of Will's hygiene. And oh, how vivacious, witty and stunning was she, even as she was in the act of making her own self sound like a fool. Will found himself utterly captivated by every tip of her head, curl of her lips or sweep of her hand, to the point he almost forgot about his breakfast entirely.
So maybe eating was not that easy—not with Elizabeth Swann there to bewitch him.
Eventually, their laughter subsided and their eating slowed to halt. Elizabeth repeated what seemed to be her favorite action of the morning, slipping her hands about his arm and laying her head upon his shoulder, kicking his heart up into the same little dance every time she did so. The sun was beaming through the gossamer clad windows, casting a checkerboard of light upon the hall's baseboards.
Then Elizabeth's father cleared his throat and set his cup down upon the table.
"I see no reason to beat around the bush," he began with his more typically business-like tone. "It has been about two weeks since our last meeting. I asked for the two of you to seriously consider the prospects of your matrimony."
"And I've already decided," Elizabeth announced from her perch upon his shoulder.
"Yes, I'm well aware. Please resist interrupting, Elizabeth," the governor chided in response, and the mood of the moment shifted somewhat to something much more sober. Will felt his body tense and Elizabeth's hands began to grip his arm a little more tightly. The governor turned his eyes to Will. "And what about you, Mister Turner? What are your feelings?"
"My feelings?" Will asked, unsure how to answer that. He'd given a lot of thought over the past few days regarding his plans and intentions to qualify for Elizabeth's courtship—those plans and his feelings about them were very much different from one another.
"Well. Perhaps that was too broad a phrasing…" the Governor conceded gracefully. But he leveled a steady gaze at Will all the same. "You know of what I speak."
Yes, he did. Governor Swann wanted to know if Will had given serious thought into the practicality of his and Elizabeth's partnership. Did he have the freedom? No. Did he have the expected money? No. Did he have the means to get the money in the time laid out before them, to secure that home the governor wanted him to offer? Currently, realistically… also no. But he had a plan, one he was confident in. And if that path failed, well… he would simply cut himself another one. For Elizabeth, Will simply refused to fail—or at least to fail permanently.
He simply needed to convey that the nothing he could present right now would certainly become something soon. And to not allow himself to become offended under her father's scrutiny. Not today.
Will felt Elizabeth's hand give him another squeeze of encouragement as she lifted her head to look at him, eyes alight in hopeful anticipation. He returned her affectionate gesture, then took a breath.
"I am out of my depth, sir. It would be a lie to admit otherwise."
He paused for a minute as the governor's expression turned dubious, and Elizabeth's grip tightened on his arm again. He'd chosen to be honest, even if it was a little stupid—somehow he felt it was the right approach all the same. Another deep breath.
"But I've also found in myself a strange tenacity for surviving disaster in even the deepest waters. If she is willing to accept me, I shall brave the most angry, churning seas for your daughter's hand."
He looked to Elizabeth as he spoke, and was lifted by the earnest approval he saw painted in her eyes.
Yet her father shook his head. "Forgive me for saying so, but I believe I've made it clear that I am not interested in a man who merely will survive for my daughter. She deserves someone who thrives."
Stunning no one, Elizabeth sat up straight at this and leveled a stern expression upon her father.
"Perhaps your daughter is also capable of swimming on her own, let alone deciding what she does and does not deserve? I have neither interest nor desire for Will to bear me on his back for our entire lives, " she said with no small amount of consternation. Will also thought he detected a trembling note of hurt in her voice when she added, "I thought my interests mattered."
Her father extended his hand and laid it in attempted consolation over hers, which had fallen upon the table. Still, the man was nothing if not pragmatic, and he did not back away from his position.
"Of course they matter, my dear. We would not be here as we are now if they did not matter," he said in a gentle voice. "But life rarely grants us the lots we expect. It is the things we do not want that we must prepare for."
Elizabeth opened her mouth, prepared to protest. For the first time in his life, Will touched her to ask her to wait. She whipped her head in his direction, her face creased in confusion.
"He's right," he conceded softly.
It was clear from her frown that her mind had not been changed. Regardless, she chose to hold back whatever questions or arguments were boiling inside her, and Will was grateful for her trust.
He knew from experience just how swiftly and thoroughly life could take the foulest turn. He wouldn't necessarily consider himself pessimistic, but he knew the dangers of counting too much on the world simply handing him his desires with ease. He actually had something of a theory about life he had long quietly kept to himself: that no single choice in life could be made without equally good and bad outcomes rippling from it. All the worst things in his life had seemed to come with some unforeseen reward, while all things best in his life seemed to come with an unpredicted loss.
It was like life demanded balance. Or payment. And if silver or other valuables were not available to cover those payments, well…
It was simply wisest to hope for the best, but plan for the worst. In this, Will could only agree with her father's less-than-idyllic outlook.
Vindicated for the moment, the governor promptly continued Will's inquiry. "Have you managed to make arrangements for your finances?"
Will met his elder's studious stare with steady confidence—while he knew his answer wouldn't be ideal, he had been prepared for this line of questioning. He knew the governor was the sort of man with whom frank honesty could carry him a long way.
"I have negotiated a small starting salary for the time being as well as a commission. And I have arranged to meet with the guild council this week to negotiate the final terms of my promotion, which should come with a significant, immediate increase to my earnings."
"So you do not yet know for certain when the end of your apprenticeship will be."
Elizabeth tutted impatiently, while the swift dryness of Swann's reply struck Will almost as soundly in the gut as the shrewdness of his observations. The man really had meant what he'd said about not wanting to beat around the bush. But it would be alright—this time, this was what he'd expected.
"Not yet, no," Will answered, his voice having grown a little shaky. He glanced briefly at Elizabeth, swallowed and then took a breath to answer with greater strength. "But I shall make it happen, sir, I swear it. I believe I have grounds for negotiating an earlier fulfillment of my indenture, which I do intend to pursue."
The governor raised his chin and leaned back in his chair at that, causing Will to lean forward and lock his gaze. While Swann didn't seem exactly impressed, it was clear Will's answer had counted for something, and it heartened his resolve ever so slightly.
"And have you begun to consider where it is you expect to live following your marriage?"
Another tough question, but again one Will had anticipated. Unfortunately, he hadn't come up with as useful a report on this one. How could he? Two weeks to make sense of future property while he was still sorting out a basic salary?
He'd just have to be honest. With all the love he had in his heart on the line, all he could be was honest.
"Not yet. I have been…" he glanced at Elizabeth again, exchanging a conspiratorial look, as she knew a little of the true complexities of his current challenges, "… occupied."
Before anything else could register, a chime went off from elsewhere inside the house and the governor's head turned towards the foyer.
"8 o'clock," he muttered, then placed his napkin upon the table and stood.
Will felt his brow furrow, and as he stood with the governor, he looked at Elizabeth again in his confusion. She seemed surprised by the hour, but not much else. The governor set about straightening his coat as his footmen began to bustle about the foyer, and a pair of maids appeared to linger at the dining hall doors, clearly ready to help clean up after the party's departure.
Was that it? That couldn't have been it—Will had expected much more to their interview.
"I intend to attend services today. Normally I would invite the two of you to join me, however I think we'll wait until we've made some more… progress with our situation. I have something else in mind today," Governor Swann explained, passing his eyes over Will for a moment in a quiet appraisal.
Will clenched his fists, not angry this time but still a little uneasy.
The governor turned eyes to his daughter. "Elizabeth, I know you had planned to spend your day together—I am granting you the time and space to do so. I only ask that you stay on our property, that you keep Miss Trattles with you, and that you spend some time to properly evaluate the terms of your union. When I return, we'll finalize our decisions together."
As the governor spoke, Will's unease eased away. However, before he could begin to process what was happening, Elizabeth, who had visibly perked up, popped to her feet in an instant and had taken Will's hand to drag him with her back into the foyer, following her father towards the staircase to the upper floor.
"We'll follow you for a moment. I want to show Will our drawing room," she declared in obvious excitement.
While it wasn't said loud enough to be properly discernible, Will thought he heard the governor sigh back, "I'm sure you do."
"I'm off!" Elizabeth's father called into her parlor once he'd finished changing into his Sunday dress. He made a point of stopping by the room's main doorway, just to send Elizabeth a specific, extremely paternal look. "Please do your best to behave yourselves until I've returned."
While Will raised his eyebrows, Elizabeth grinned—her father knew her far too well.
"I'm offended you would ever doubt me," she quipped.
"Yes…" was his simple, cynical reply. For a moment he simply stood, eyes darting judiciously between the faces of Elizabeth, her unconventional visitor upon the settee, and their assigned chaperone at the games table, seeming to weigh the distance between them. At length, he simply shook his head to himself and lifted his cane in a commanding motion—again, leveled at his daughter. "Be good."
Then he was on his way down the stairs, Misters Lomax and Rose at his heels as they made their way towards the carriage.
Elizabeth simply stood at the large, center window with her hands crossed in front of her, waiting until the sound of her father's steps had changed with the resonance of stone, to indicate he was in the foyer.
Then she turned to Will. "Take off your coat."
While Estrella frowned, Will looked as taken aback as he did confused. "What? Now? Why?"
"This is your home today—you ought to be comfortable," she insisted as she marched around the coffee table to meet him.
"Is that your reason?" Estrella asked in an intensely skeptical manner, although she looked highly entertained.
Per a discussion with Elizabeth earlier that morning, her promotion had afforded her a status and role a bit more similar to a companion, and she had been asked to more freely voice her opinions. Not only did Elizabeth feel after her excursion that she could stand to have another woman to talk to more regularly, she also found Estrella had shown an early willingness to facilitate her interest in Will—even before their stars had aligned. She was perceptive, bold, open-minded and trustworthy.
So the ladies' maid was not censured.
"Yes!" Elizabeth insisted instead, barely managing not to laugh at the way everyone seemed to believe she had questionable intentions with her beau so early in their courtship.
She was rebellious and demanding, certainly, but she had restraint with some things. Probably. To be honest, that was something that still remained to be seen, especially after some of the provocative thoughts Violet MacDonald had managed to have stuck inside her head. However right now, she almost entirely did mean what she said about wanting him to be comfortable—she simply was not interested in adhering to stuffy formalities in her own home a minute longer, especially not with him. He was making her hot and flummoxed just looking at him.
Admittedly, the coat's clashing with the climate might not have been solely responsible for that.
She grabbed Will's wrist and hauled him off his seat. "The sun shines on this side of the house. It'll be like an oven in here before you know it. Off!"
He raised an eyebrow at her as he found his balance, laughing at her with his eyes. "Have you forgotten where I work all day?"
"Off!" she insisted for the final time, and began to impatiently peel the coat from his shoulders herself.
"Ah, miss—?" Estrella began.
Suddenly her father reappeared in the doorway, apparently intending to collect something from the bookcase. "I almost left my hymnal…"
Elizabeth froze at the same time as he did, their eyes meeting. Her hands were still gripping the lapels of Will's coat, which she had only managed to pull halfway down his arms. Will's face was pulled into a tense expression of surprise. She tried to smile casually, and watched as her father's eyes drifted towards Estrella, who simply shrugged at his silent inquiry over what was actually going on.
After a breathless minute, with her father opening and closing his mouth no less than three times, he simply sighed, shook his head, crossed the room to collect his hymnal from the book case, then disappeared once more without saying another word.
Elizabeth clamped her lips upon each other to hold back her laughter, as she watched Will take over the shedding of his coat while shaking his head. Estrella simply sat with a hand over her mouth, clearly with plenty on the tip of her tongue.
"We're not really making a very good case for our discretion or patience, are we?" Will asked, folding the divested garment over his arm.
"That would suggest I was trying, which is absolutely wrong," Elizabeth retorted, snatching his coat from his hands. She slipped him a coy look, hopefully leaving him to wonder whether she had meant to imply trying for decency or mischief. Then she turned on her heel and marched through the door that connected the drawing room to her chambers, tossing his coat upon her bed. "Come in here. I want to lighten up as well."
She could hear the hesitation in his voice as she walked to her changing corner in search of her favorite, lighter cotton robe a l'anglaise amongst the items draped around her.
"Am I … supposed to be present for that?"
She scoffed while Estrella joined her by her screen, although she doubted he could hear it, then called back, "I have a changing screen. Just sit on that stool by the door—I want to be able to hear you properly while we speak."
"I see," she heard his voice more clearly as he entered her room.
As Elizabeth and her maid sorted through the shifts and gowns that had been tossed over her screen, she heard footsteps and creaking of floorboards from Will relocating to her suggested place upon the stool near her parlor door. She frowned to herself and Estrella. The dress wasn't here… She could have sworn she had worn it just the other day.
"Which one, miss?" Estrella asked her quietly.
"The striped cotton… Ivory." Elizabeth muttered back, gesturing an up-and-down motion with her hands in front of her shoulders, as if that'd somehow help Estrella visualize it.
Her maid took half a second to think before whisking back to the other side of the room divider, towards the long ottoman that sat at the foot of Elizabeths' bed. There she flipped the box open and quickly buried her head in the fabrics inside.
"You have a lot of chairs in here…" Will mused as Elizabeth began to unfasten her bodice.
She pulled a perplexed face to herself. That was what he noticed first, even with a curtained bedstead right in the middle of the room? There were only three… no, five seats with the two stools. Alright, perhaps it might seem a little excessive to an outside eye. But they made sense—she had her reading chair and the chair at her vanity, of course. That wasn't excessive. As for the three spares…
"Mm. In case we have a larger party in the parlor. Or sometimes it helps with preparations for my more formal attire…"
"Ah."
Off came her jacket, which she tossed upon her bed. She felt immediately much more refreshed and tempted to go about her day half-dressed. Why was it that women didn't wear waistcoats as well in this heat? Having her arms only covered by thin linen sleeves seemed much more comfortable. And if tailored properly, it could look quite nice, paired with a smart petticoat…
Right on time, Estrella re-appeared behind the screen with the desired robe held up in her hands. Elizabeth gasped her delight at its appearance. Its fabric was somewhat plain compared to her other jackets and gowns. However, it was also a much thinner weave with much looser sleeves, and therefore was her absolute favorite for lounging about the house.
As Estrella helped her shrug into the bodice, Elizabeth mused aloud, "You know, I do find it deeply amusing the way we're already being treated as if wantonness will overwhelm us at any moment."
If Will said anything in response, Elizabeth couldn't hear it over Estrella's instant scoff.
"What?" Elizabeth demanded with narrowed eyes, as she spun around as much to level a glare as to allow Estrella to fasten her stomacher.
Estrella didn't bother to conceal the humor on her face as she began setting the first pins into Elizabeth's jacket. "It's just… you're not exactly a model of self-restraint, miss."
"And why not?" she gasped in response, almost genuinely offended.
She could hear Will make a noise from the other side of the screen that could only have been a stifled giggle. The nerve of these two! They acted as though she had no patience at all. But that was not the case! She merely acted as she felt was … sensible in a given moment. After all, many social conventions only existed to appease the narrow preferences of stodgy old men—turning her nose up at them every once in a while was only reasonable. Didn't everyone, anyway? She just didn't bother to keep it a secret.
"I have lived my life as perfectly a polite lady as anyone else for all these years—I daresay I have a great deal of restraint, all things considered."
"Certainly—no one's implying you're completely without discipline altogether, miss," Estrella responded without missing a beat. "But I'd still wager if Mister Turner had any mind for seduction, you'd not make it to the end of the day still a maiden. On the other hand, you could hardly get him to speak to you the way you wanted for … how long?"
Will made a sound like he'd bumped his elbow against the wall or bureau and hissed.
Meanwhile, Elizabeth's jaw had fallen open in near-outrage—especially over Estrella comparing her to Will in such a manner. His comportment might have appeared disciplined while under public eyes in mansion foyers and city streets, certainly, but she knew what he was like in more private circumstances, like in the hold of a pirate ship sailing over open waters or behind the doors of his master's home or…
She shook her head. "That's completely ridiculous. I guarantee I could hold out against him much longer if I wanted to!"
Estrella raised her eyebrows but said nothing in return, focusing instead on setting the last pins into Elizabeth's robe. Out of habit, Elizabeth ran her hands over her stomacher as though smoothing the fabric out, then stuck her hands up her sleeves to draw out the currently bunched-up lacy cuffs of her shift.
She walked towards her dressing table as she did so, shooting her beau a sly look and remarking, "Besides, you're assuming Will has it in him to make a real effort at seduction in our current circumstance, and I don't think he does. My father has nothing to worry about with Will—he's far too chivalrous."
She stood before her mirror and turned her shoulders to examine the fit of her dress. Estrella's movements tidying the changing corner could be seen in the mirror's background. Will's reflection caught her eye from where he still sat, perched upon the stool by the door and nursing his right elbow.
"Am I?" he asked, cocking one eyebrow. "I thought you said I was a pirate."
"Yes," she admitted. Then she sat upon her chair, very purposefully crossing her hands over her knees, rolling her shoulders back, and puffing her chest forward with her chin tipped up. As she expected, Will tensed ever so slightly over her coquettish posture. She knew why. "But you also turn your eyes away from my décolletage the second you believe I or anyone else might notice your admiration."
Both of Will's eyebrows rose in a comic expression not all that different from a child having been caught sneaking sweets from the kitchen, and turned his head to pretend he was looking out the window. It was just about as successful a cover as his obvious attempt earlier that morning to pretend he hadn't clearly wanted a look at her chest. God, he was a terrible liar. And completely charming for it.
She was no fool. She knew full well the sway she held over Will Turner. Any suggestion that he could sway her more than she was simply absurd.
Elizabeth simpered at him in satisfaction, setting her chin in her hand while leaning her elbow upon her knee, "I notice. And a proper pirate would admire openly, sir, at the very least."
"Oh, lord…" Estrella sighed, dropping some skirts into the ottoman and shutting it with a velvet-dulled thud.
Will took a breath, still clearly affected by her incredibly specific indictment while no longer having an interest in staying out of the argument. "Might it not be argued that a proper gentleman would never spare more than a glance without permission?"
Elizabeth's lips were pulled into a keen smirk. She loved a little playful banter, all the more when it was with him—she found it stimulating… especially when she knew she was winning. "I suppose. But a proper pirate doesn't care about permission to begin with. You do."
"So then am I a pirate to you or not?" Will crossed his arms and perched the ankle of one leg atop the knee of the other.
"Oh, you are a pirate, there's no avoiding that!" she reassured, now cocking her own eyebrow at him and hooking a fingernail onto her bottom teeth. She openly ran her eyes over his form in the manner he still seemed unwilling to do to her, picturing him the way he appeared with his own chest exposed and his hair unbound in battle. Or causing another righteous ruckus in that ridiculous hat. "You simply still have some… training up to do in the more lecherous ways of the lifestyle."
His expression shifted a little as she eyed him, and he mimicked her prior action of raising his stubbled chin at her, almost like a challenge. "Well, there may be a few piratical traditions I completely refuse to partake in, training or no. What think you of that?"
"That you only prove my argument in the end."
All the better really. She wasn't exactly fond of the raping, murdering parts of the job, which she knew was what he was referring to rejecting the most. In that sense, he was practically her ideal—a heroic pirate among brigands like what Robin Hood was among highway bandits.
He copied her pose a little, dropping his propped foot back to the ground and leaning on his knees with his forearms. He grinned and narrowed his eyes at her in a playful accusation. "I think we're actually straying from the real argument here, just so you can pretend at winning."
Elizabeth mirrored his pose exactly. This time when Will's dark eyes slipped down to observe plusher parts of her body he did not attempt to hide it. She grinned with some triumph. Once his eyes returned to hers, appearing quite changed from their journey, she jut her jaw and taunted him, "I would win. You know I would."
Estrella clucked her tongue and inserted herself between the two of them by grasping Elizabeth's shoulders, turning her to sit in the proper direction for her chair, towards her vanity. During Estrella's plucking of the pins from her hair, Elizabeth glanced in Will's direction out of the corner of her eye. He held his pose, still gazing at her with what seemed to be a rather intent expression. She realized she started to feel a pleasant warm and bubbly feeling churning in her stomach.
"You two keep joking about it, but perhaps you really ought to try to prove it," Estrella suggested at length. "Make it a real wager."
The bubbles inside Elizabeth started to surge, causing the warmth to shoot up her spine, around her neck and over her cheeks. She turned in her chair to give Estrella an incredulous look.
"Ah—" was Will's eloquent response, accompanied by his own baffled expression.
"Excuse me," Elizabeth said, "aren't you charged with guarding my maidenhood instead of suggesting I turn it in for a wager?"
Her maid gave a dramatic sigh and placed her hands firmly on her own hips. "That was not what I had in mind, miss."
"Oh." The wave of heat subsided from Elizabeth's face. Yet it remained simmering quietly in other parts of her body as she turned back around in her chair, this time avoiding Will's face altogether. She had to push aside the rush of pictures that had come to her mind first. "What did you have in mind, then…?"
Estrella reached for Elizabeth's hair brush, working out a few small tangles then sectioning off the front of her head for a new style.
"One of you might try to persuade the other into a kiss—a kiss only! I'm not about to lose my job by encouraging your deflowering," she announced in a stern voice, pointing Elizabeth's brush at her and Will one at a time, accusingly. "If you are the one to kiss Mister Turner today before you can convince him to kiss you, then you lose."
Elizabeth could see Will in the mirror, leveling towards Estrella a deeply sardonic expression. Her lips curled.
"I would take that wager!" she announced, slapping the top of her table once for emphasis, drawing Will's eyes to her reflection. "You've got it all the way backwards—I could overcome Will utterly the moment I wanted to, far before he could have a hold on me. You simply haven't seen me make a proper try."
Her guest shook his head, obviously riled as she knew he would be. She'd known him since they were young. One thing few people seemed to predict before it showed itself was the way that Will Turner was deeply competitive and loved a good-natured bet. What a fortunate thing it was, because if there were few things Elizabeth Swann loved more than a duel—of weapons, wits or wills, equally.
"That may be in unstructured circumstances," he declared. "But if we're turning it into an actual competition, I think you might underestimate my own resolve to win."
She bared her teeth in a wicked smile. "Then let the games begin."