Chapter 15: A Man of His Word
Fare you well my dear, I must be gone
And leave you for a while
If I roam away I'll come back again
Though I roam ten thousand miles, my dear
Though I roam ten thousand miles*
- "Fare Thee Well" 18th Century English Folk Ballad.
"Hello Margaret."
"…Father?"
Lord Cutler Beckett prided himself on remaining cool and composed in unusual situations.
As a member of the East India Trading Company, he had seen many strange things and had always been able to adapt where many of his peers floundered. His gift for assessing turbulent situations and crafting practical solutions, which he implemented with varying degrees of brutality and efficiency, had been most helpful in his rise to power, and he rarely found himself at a loss or outmanoeuvred by any opponent.
Of course, he had experienced some failures. He was, unfortunately, only human after all. However, he had taken those failures in stride, found ways to work around and learn from them, and rarely, if ever, made the same mistake twice.
And yet, for all that brilliance, all his guile, charm and craft seemed to fail him the day he had found her.
The company had sent him to inspect the new Headquarters in Port Royal. However, a massive storm had battered the ship, forcing them to change course and stop at Barbados to resupply and repair.
He had been walking alone along a small, secluded beach, a rare occurrence since he was a man of business whose job it was to constantly meet and talk with people when he was not filling out paperwork.
But, alas, even he needed some time just to walk and be with his thoughts.
It had been a beautiful day. The sun shone as a few clouds passed overhead, and the water was as blue and clear as a forget-me-not. The seabirds' calls were soft and soothing as a cooling breeze took the edge off the region's heat and humidity.
That was when he saw her.
Her head of fiery copper curls flowed freely around her naked, freckled body as she lay on a rock, her feet dangling in the gently rocking ocean as her head leaned back to absorb the sun.
At first, he had been concerned, wondering if she had been some poor unfortunate that had been ravaged by a savage brute and left to rot on the beach, discarded and used.
Then he saw the smile on her face as she leaned her head back to bask in the ray of a sunbeam peeping out from a blanket of fluffy white clouds.
It was such a warm, wonderful smile. It was the smile of one who was free, had no care in the world, and was just happy to sit and be.
It was not love at first sight. Beckett did not believe in such childish notions even as a boy. When he was a youth, his older sister Jane teased him and said he did not have any romance in his soul, and that much was true.
And yet…as he looked upon this beautiful woman lying on the rocks and basking in the sun's glow, a longing came upon him with such forcethathe almost felt like a tidal wave had knocked him off his feet to drown in his desires.
He wanted that smile.
He wanted it so badly and strongly that everything in his entire being was screaming at him to take it.
And so, he took her for himself.
To his surprise, many of his colleagues did not begrudge him his choice of taking a lover. With their busy schedules and near-constant state of transience, many merchants had mistresses to provide companionship while their wives kept their children and families secure at home.
If his parents' marriage had proven anything to Cutler Beckett, one did not need to hold affection for their spouse to be married. So long as he saved his hand for a woman who could advance his standing and produce a suitable heir, who cared if he took a lover to fulfil his need for affection and tenderness?
It certainly helped his standing amongst his peers that his lover had been a charming and wild beauty.
Wild beauty that had been passed down to their only daughter.
Beckett looked down at the young woman on the bed beside him.
Though she looked a lot like her mother at first glance, he could see small pieces from his bloodline had seeped in bits and places, the most prominent being her eyes.
His eldest and her young half-sister had inherited those grey-blue orbs from him, and he and his older sister Jane hadinherited themfrom their beloved mother, who had long since passed on. It was one of the few features of his family Beckett had been fond of as it had distinguished himself from his pathetic father and brothers.
But the closer Beckett looked at his daughter, the more he could see other small features they shared. She also had his ears, the way her brows creased when she frowned and the shape of her hands, though hers were rougher and more calloused than his own. They clenched tight into the sheets as she gingerly sat up, holding the sheets close to her chest as she realised something was amiss.
Beckett could not blame her for looking alarmed as she looked down at her body, which had been garbed only in a plain white shift.
"I ordered the maid to change you for bed, " he explained, shifting back to give her space as she frantically looked around the room for a sign of anything familiar. "Your clothes and effects have been washed and put away safely. They were rather dirty." He added softly, trying to keep his voice gentle as she gulped. "If you like, then I can order her to draw you a bath-"
"That won't be necessary." She clipped, scuttling away from his touch like a wary cat. "I won't be staying long."
"Oh? And why do you say that?" Beckett's eyebrows rose.
"Why do you think? A pirate has no place on a Company ship."
"But you are not a pirate." Beckett stated, "You are my daughter, and as such, you are perfectly safe from such persecution and under my protection."
"Am I?" the woman narrowed her eyes suspiciously at him. "How can you be sure? How can you prove you are who you say you are? For all I know, this could very well be a trap."
"It could." Beckett admitted softly, "But it is not. And as for proof, I have all the proof I need in front of me. You look so much like your mother, Margaret."
"Peggy." Peggy cut across him firmly, eyes now sharp as they glowered coldly at him. "My name is Peggy Delphine Blake."
"No. It is not." Beckett cut across her softly but firmly. "Delphine Blake is the name your mother tried to foist upon you when she dared to try and take you away from me. Your real name, the name I, your father, gave you as is my right by law, is Margaret Jane Beckett."
"Beckett?" Peggy murmured, and it seemed to Beckett that she was testing the name on her tongue as if it were a foreign word.
What is wrong with her? Has it been that long since she has used that name? Or…or could it be…
"You do not remember me…do you?" he muttered, his frustration melting away as he glimpsed the slight trepidation in her eyes.
"…no. I don't."
"But you remember that I am your father?"
"Sort of. I remember your voice." She admitted. "But no…I don't know who you are."
Beckett felt his heart sink in his chest. This wasunfortunate. Of course, given how much time had passed, he had expected there to be some distance between them but to be utterly forgotten by his child. His flesh and blood…It almost surprised him how much that stung.
Something of his distress must have shown on his face because Peggy's frown softened to a grimace.
"I'm not trying to be cruel." She said carefully. "When I fell overboard, I hit my head, and a lot of things got messed up and blacked out. I have gotten some memories back over the years, small snippets of my life before. But there are still quite a few blanks in my past that I haven't yet recovered."
"Like your name?"
"…yes."
Despite trying to keep the calm mask, Beckett felt his shoulders sag with dismay.
Ah, the fall. He had almost forgotten about that. Well, he supposed it explained the amnesia. Head traumas were a tricky business, and it was not her fault she had sustained such an injury.
No wonder she was so hostile towards him. He mused bitterly. To her, he was a literal shadow from her past.
It probably did not help that she had been taken so roughly from the streets by unfamiliar men and beaten into submission. Then, to top it off, she woke upin a bed without her clothes, with a virtual stranger touching her face and hounding her with questions. Any woman, whether they be civilised or a pirate, would feel anxious and wary under such circumstances.
Beckett cursed in his head. He did not often make such a steep miscalculation, but perhaps he could give himself some grace. It was an emotionally charged situation. His eagerness to bring his daughter back into his care had led him to slip on a few of the details he usually would have considered more carefully.
The heart truly was a treacherous thing.
"Forgive me." He coughed, straightening up and leaning back to give her some space. "I forgot about the accident. Given the unfortunate circumstances, perhaps we should start over from the beginning."
"Perhaps we should." Peggy agreed stiffly, knees curling up as she leaned back against the bed's headboard to be a respectable distance from him. "Who are you? And what do you want with me?"
"I am Lord Cutler Beckett, Supreme head of the East India Trading Company and Duly Appointed Representative of His Majesty King George the Second. I came to the Caribbean six months ago to investigate reports of a stray Caribbean Selkie that escaped the purge twenty years ago. You can imagine my surprise when my men discovered that the selkie in question matched the description of my daughter Margaret, whom I had thought had perished thirteen years ago after my late wife pushed her overboard on the passage to England."
"Late wife?" Peggy frowned, and then her lip curled in disgust. "Ah yes, my lovely stepmother. What was her name again?"
"Constance."
"Constance…of course, now I remember!" Peggy spat with a bitter chuckle. "I should have known she'd be the one to give me the heave-ho! She never could stand me. So she died, then? How?"
"Complications in childbirth." Beckett clipped coldly, unpleased with her uncouth language. He'd have to do something to fix that. "Though not before delivering me another girl."
"I have a little sister?" Peggy blinked, and Beckett was surprised to see her eyes light up for a split second.
"Yes."
"What's her name?"
"Katrina." Beckett sighed. "Hardly the name I would have chosen, but alas, it was Constance's final wish."
"Yes, you sound utterly torn up about her death, don't you?" Peggy deadpanned, and Beckett's lips pursed.
Forget language; he'd have to fix her behaviour. Life amongst those commoners and pirates had not helped her education. Having such a rude and outspoken daughter presented at Court would not look good for him.
"So where is she then? I suppose you have the poor thing locked up in some convent or a gilded cage like you did me and my mother."
"She is here on the ship with me," Beckett muttered, stroking his chin. So she remembered something about her old life. His attempts to shelter her and her mother had not been appreciated. How ungrateful.
"One of my more important associates has a son around her age." He explained as Peggy quirked a questioning brow, "Since we are both conducting matters of business in Port Royal, we thought it was a good opportunity for them to meet before any formal engagement is decided."
"Well, that's some small mercy." Peggy snorted. "Most girls don't even meet their intended till just before they are wed. I suppose it makes little difference. It's not like the poor girl has any choice in who she gets sold off to anyway."
And she was one of those 'enlightened' women too, wonderful. Then again, Beckett did not know why he was surprised; she had been living amongst lawless pirates for quite a while.
"I take it you would have sold me off to one of your associates if I had stayed with you and dear Constance?" Peggy snorted.
"I would have found a suitable match for you, yes." Beckett clipped, "Of course, I would have either had to label you as my ward or sought paperwork to have legitimised you as your mother and I were never married, but-"
"You and mother were never married?"
Beckett paused as he considered his following words carefully. While no one batted an eye to a lord having a mistress, having a child out of wedlock often caused many troubles for powerful men. Constance's attempted murder of his firstborn had proven just that.
"So…a selkie lover." Peggy shook her head and chuckled scornfully, a hollow, bitter sound that eerily reminded Beckett of his father. "Of course, it makes sense now. Why else would you keep us locked away? Can't have the esteemed East India Trading Company director parading a non-human wife of common birth, can you?"
"You may jest, but it was my protection that kept you and your mother alive all those years." Beckett snapped, his mask falling for a fraction of a second "My old colleagues at the time were such fools to kill off the entire selkie clan in the Caribbean. Culling them down and bringing them to heel was one thing. That's just common sense. But the extermination of such a remarkable creature? That was just foolish."
"You say that, but I know your kind." Peggy sneered. "You'd exterminate all the pirates in the Caribbean if you had the chance."
"Pirates, yes," Beckett admitted stiffly as he reigned himself back in behind a cold, blank mask. "Pirates are lawless and create trouble. They interrupt business, and they endanger lives. Selkies, on the other hand, have a place in the world's natural order. They protected the oceans and held to their truce."
"Ahhh! I see how it is." Peggy rolled her eyes. "So long as something's useful, it's worth preserving and keeping safe. But if it interferes with the 'grand plan,' it's eliminated from the board. How pragmatic of you, father." She spat out the title like one would a curse.
Beckett opened his mouth to speak but was interrupted by a knock on the door. A clerk with a nasty, gnarly scar over his cheek stood with a bucket of seawater and a few wads of cloth.
"The seawater you requested, sir."
"Thank you, Mister Mercer. If you would bring it here by the bed and then tend to your other duties."
"Sir." Mercer nodded smartly as he left the bucket as instructed and the cloths on the bedside table and left without another word. However, his eyes did linger on Peggy's red curls and her face for a moment or two in curiosity even as he shut the door behind him.
Beckett turned back to Peggy and was not surprised by the daggers she glared at the door.
"I see you remember Mister Mercer, at least."
"No, I don't," Peggy growled through gritted teeth. "But I know a thug when I see one."
"No." Beckett clipped, "Thugs are for the common man who cannot afford a professional. Misters Mercer and Sloane are highly well-trained specialists in their respective fields."
"The man reeks of blood."
"I only smell his cologne, and he keeps himself quite clean – ahh…but of course. Your sense of smell is rather sensitive, isn't it?" Beckett nodded as understanding dawned. No wonder her hackles were raised.
"I see you are still probably upset by the events of last night." he rose to his feet and straightened out his clothes. "I shall have the maid draw you a bath and fetch you some more decent clothes. But first, you should wipe any injuries down with some seawater. If I remember correctly, a selkie's wounds always heal faster when in contact with the ocean. Once you are bathed and dressed appropriately, I expect to see you in my office. We still need to discuss much, and I expect you to conduct yourself with more decorum in the future."
Peggy watched with narrowed eyes as he walked to the door, only to hesitate and take one last look back at her over his shoulder.
"What?" she grunted waspishly.
"…you look so much like your mother." Beckett gulped down the tiny lump in his throat stiffly. "Forgive me. I will see you later."
And with that, he shut the door on her, leaving her alone and confused in that cold, lonely cabin.
This truly is a dismal place.
Jack Sparrow sighed as he looked around the grimy little cell.
Even though it was still daytime, it was very dark as the storm raged on outside. He had managed to pick the lock of the cell with the bone of a dead rat one of his fellow inmates had gnawed upon in his starved state.
The prison island Captain Labelle had described was nothing short of the stuff of nightmares for most pirates. An ocean-locked prison embedded in a fortress of stone carved into a tall cliff with sharp rocks at the bottom.
It was always cold and damp and reeked of rotten corpses and disease.
If Jack had been a normal lubber and not used to traversing through such sordid places, he might have felt scared.
But he wasn't.
However, that could have been because he focused on digging out a loose brick from the dark, grimy wall. He knew it had to be the right one. The little chalk drawing of Poseidon's trident against the stone matched the description of the elderly, emaciated guard he had bribed for information.
Luckily for him, the guards barely checked in on their prisoners. They were too busy arranging sea burials for a bunch of poor, unfortunate souls who had died in a scuffle in their cells.
"Come 'ere. Come on! Thassit!" Jack poked his tongue through his teeth as his knife managed to carve a space big enough for his fingers to get in and grip one side of the stone brick. The mortar was so weak and old that it crumbled away against his touch even as he only gently gripped the brick and tugged.
With a heavy thud, the brick fell back into Jack's stomach, nearly winding him. The mortar might have been weak, but the stone was bloody heavy. Thank God it had not landed on the stone floor. It would have made a hell of a noise.
He quickly recovered and peered inside the hole he had just made in the wall. It was dark inside, but he could vaguely make out the shape of a bundle of cloth.
Cautiously, he reached in with a shaking hand and pulled out the cloth, shaking it out with a grimace as years of slime and grime coated his hand.
Was this it? He frowned as he looked at the blank canvas surface.
Yet, as he turned the material over, a smile crept over his face.
"Ahh…now we're talkin'" Jack Sparrow grinned with glee.
Finally, after thirteen long years… finally he had found it.
The key to solving all his-
CRACK!
KABOOM!
The sudden rumble of thunder and the crack of lightning almost made Jack leap out of his skin.
He was barely able to restrain the yelp of surprise and was glad no one had been with him to witness such a pathetic display as he sucked in a few deep soothing breaths to steady himself.
Just a bloody storm. He shook his head and rolled his eyes to himself. No need to act all lilly-livered.
He looked up at one of the cell walls, where, in a corner, a small barred window allowed him to see the sky outside.
Heavy sheets of rain pelted down from high, illuminated by flashes of lightning. Winds forced the droplets to fall nearly horizontally and parallel to the ground.
Yikes, the ocean really was broiling with anger, wasn't she?
I wonder if Pegs has reached that whelp yet? Jack sighed, his insides squirming as a gust of icy cold wind blew into the cell, chilling his bones.
That silly, lovestruck girl. Risking her hide for that ungrateful brat.
But what could Jack do?
He was stuck here on this godforsaken spit of land, and she was somewhere out there with the EITC after her blood.
"Stay safe, kid,"
Peggy grimaced as she raised her skirts to walk up the stairs of the HMS Endeavour, two armed officers on either side of her. They did not touch her, but Peggy could tell that could all change if she made the wrong move.
Her father, if the man could be called that, had changed his mind about meeting with her in his office and ordered her to meet him on deck for a late morning tea once she was dressed "appropriately" for a "lady of her station".
Peggy scowled as she looked down at the silk under her fingers. Never in all her life could she remember wearing clothes so fine. She supposed she must have worn similarly luxurious clothing before she had been first lost at sea, but that was nearly too long ago to count.
Her dress was a light silvery blue with the lustre of a pearl. There was slightly darker silver silk flowery embroidery over the stomacher, cuffs, and hem of her skirts. Around her right wrist, she had bound a white linen cloth to cover the Devil's Mark. She had told her horrified lady's maid that she did not want to scandalise the crew by letting them see her pirate's tattoo and had been promptly provided with a bandage without any fuss. Thank heavens, no one else seemed to have bothered with any further questions. On her ears, she wore a pair of simple drop blue opal earrings with silver fastenings that offset the abalone shell pendant that she wore around her neck.
Peggy was most relieved that she had been allowed to keep Jack's gift when she was sure most of her pirate garb had been thrown or locked away. It was one of the few pieces of jewellery she had kept throughout the last six months, and having it around her neck bolstered her with much-needed strength. It was like having a piece of Jack and the Pearl with her.
Jack…the Pearl…she wished she was back on that damned ship. Hell, she'd settle for Jack being aboard and by her side, even if he was clapped in irons. As wily and as wild as he was, his presence was soothing.
As he had once said, you could always trust a dishonest man to be dishonest. And he was one of the few people in the world she would trust.
Jack must be well on his way to that Turkish prison near Hispaniola searching for Old Sliverbeard's mystery treasure, whatever it is. Peggy mused silently as she reached up to fiddle with a lock of her hair. Thankfully, the limited time constraint between her bath and meeting her father had not allowed the maid to powder or tease her hair into any elaborate, painful hairstyle. Instead, most of it had been pulled and twisted back into a braided bun.
It was a hairstyle that Peggy had seen Elizabeth wear a few times during the day when she went on outings with her lady's maids, and it suited the noblewoman very well. Peggy, however, could already feel her unruly curls begin to strain and rebel against the pins. She winced as a gust of wind hit her face when one of her guards made to open the hutch that led up above deck.
"My Lady." The man kindly offered her a hand with a small genial smile.
Peggy wanted nothing more than to swat the hand away. She was a pirate! She could probably run the entire length of this ship either naked or fully clothed, whether it was raining, hailing or sailing through hellfire.
However, the poor man was trying to be chivalrous, so she supposed she should be gracious and allow him to do his job.
Besides, the less aggressive she was, the more likely someone would lower their Endeavour was a larger lady than the Black Pearl and more heavily manned, as she had also been fitted with the finest in cannons and weaponry. She had to keep her eyes peeled for any potential blind spots and escape routes she could use once she had an opportunity.
Oof! It is gusty today. Peggy grimaced as she was escorted above deck.
Unlike the day before, which had been clear and bright, today was overcast, grey and windy. No sun would peek out behind the clouds, but neither were the clouds low or heavy enough for rain. Despite the windy weather, the Endeavour's course was smooth, and the sailors seemed unrushed and relaxed.
They were making good time to Port Royal; otherwise, Peggy was sure there would be more of a desperate scramble.
"Ah, Miss Beckett! There you are."
"Oh great." Peggy scowled as she looked for the voice and caught sight of a man standing by a small circular table laden with tea, served by a pair of male servants and set with four chairs.
Sloane looked a lot different from how he had appeared last night. His fair head of hair had been washed, trimmed, and tied neatly behind his head with a black ribbon, and his strong jaw had been shaved clean of that scraggly beard. He was now dressed in a dark green coat with matching breeches, a black silk vest, and a crisp white shirt and necktie.
No longer was he the rough, ragged vagrant from Tortuga. Now, he was Sloane, the specialised "clerk" of the director of the EITC.
He quickly dismissed her guards with a wave of his hand before reaching out to kiss her hand in greeting, only to have her recoil from his touch as if it burned.
To Peggy's surprise, the man only smiled at her, clearly entertained by her rudeness.
"I am glad to see you up and about and in such raring spirits."
"Thank you, Mister Sloane-"
"Please call me Ronan."
"Sorry, but I'd much rather keep this as professional as possible. As I said, Mister Sloane, the feeling is far from mutual." Peggy clipped, ignoring the shocked expressions of many of the officers standing guard around them. They did not expect their boss's daughter to be so openly disdainful. Well, they were about to learn just how nasty Peggy could get.
However, despite her glower, Sloane's grin only morphed into a chuckle, as if they were old friends sharing in an old game of jesting and banter.
"Be that as it may, I am still glad you recovered from your stressful ordeal last night."
"My stressful ordeal? If I remember correctly, YOU and your men were the reason for my stress last night."
"An unfortunate misunderstanding."
"Misunderstanding?"
"Yes, Miss Beckett. Though not yours, of course. You have every right to be angry at how poorly you were treated last night. I thought I had clarified to my associates that you would not be harmed. You can imagine my disappointment when they not only failed to comply with my request but knocked you out so ferociously before I could intervene on your behalf?"
"I find that very hard to believe."
"Then perhaps I can make it up to you by explaining everything while we wait?" Sloane's green eyes twinkled with undisguised glee at her obvious contempt as hegestured for her to join him at the table. "Please take a seat. Your father and sister shall be joining us soon."
"What an honour." Peggy deadpanned, and before Sloane or any of the servants or officers could move, she strode to the table. She pulled out her chair, dragging it as noisily and as harshly as possible across the freshly polished and clean deck so it left a long scratch in the wood. She crossed her legs and folded her arms without even a smidgeon of ladylike grace, smirking as half the men around her stared at her now exposed ankles in alarm. The pair provided for her had not fit her feet, so she forewent wearing them despite her ladies' maid's protests.
Was it petty and childish? Absolutely.
Did she give a damn?
Hell no.
As Jack always said, if you could do it, then why not?
"As much as I am enjoying the view, perhaps you should try not to cause such a scene," Sloane grunted as he sat beside her, barely batting an eye at her scandalous behaviour.
"I don't see the problem here." Peggy sniffed haughtily. "You high-society men expect me to doll myself up and push my breasts up in a corset for the pleasure of your gazes, yet an ankle is where you draw the line?"
"Not all men," Sloane smirked as his gaze wandered to the exposed limb. "Perhaps I've spent too long in Tortuga, but I will never tire of seeing a woman with nice legs. And while I am sure Lord Beckett has similar feelings towards the female form, you are his daughter. I daresay he wishes for nothing more than to do his due duty by you and protect your virtue from unwanted advances."
"Why? So he can sell it off to the highest bidder?" Peggy snorted but had no choice but to unfold her legs, for the silk layers were too heavy to maintain such a position for more than a couple of minutes.
"You truly think so little of the man who has spent so many years in search of you?" Sloane's smile fell from his face for the first time to reveal a genuinely astonished expression. "I know lord Beckett can be perhaps a bit reserved and pragmatic, but he is not without love in his heart. He has been very eager to see you returned safe and sound ever since word of your survival reached his ears months ago. From what I have seen, your apparent death at the hands of your stepmother affected him most gravely."
"Oh really?" Peggy's scowl softened to a grimace as she remembered the look on her father's face when she had told him she did not recognise him.
Despite his attempts to remain stoic and cold, she had seen the hurt in his eyes when he had attempted a second, more formal introduction. She supposed having your child look at you as if you were a stranger would have been quite a nasty shock. But it was not like she had meant to be so harsh.
Even now, she found it hard to reconcile what she saw with what little she remembered of the man. All she had to go on were half-baked recollections and negative feelings. Hardly any happy memories of Lord Cutler Beckett remained open to her.
Then, there was the fact that the man was responsible for the deaths of many of her fellow pirates and the possible harming of the man she loved.
"You believed him to have only captured you to use you for his designs?" Sloane peered at her sympathetically. "You truly do not believe your father does not love you or has your best interests at heart?"
"No. I don't. And I am not saying that because I am trying to be rude." She added quickly, "I simply do not know the man. He has not been a father to me for the past thirteen years. I am not the same little girl he lost. I have lived my own life, and he has lived his, so how can he know what is best for me when he does not know who I am? And how can I be expected to judge him for what he wants if I do not know who he is? But if there is one thing I have learned from being a pirate, it's that just because someone loves you does not mean they are not above using you or hurting you for their gain."
"Then you have learned far more than most men on this ship." A new voice spoke.
Peggy turned and saw her father walking towards her; his mask-like expression oddly strained as he approached the table.
"Thank you for keeping my daughter company, Mister Sloane. I shall take it from here." he waved off his clerk, who refreshed his polite, charming smile as he rose.
"Of course, sir. I shall tend to my other duties. Miss Beckett. I do hope to continue our conversation soon. You are a true breath of fresh air." He smirked as she narrowed her eyes coldly back at him.
"I would say it was a pleasure to meet you, Mister Sloane, but then I'd be lying."
Sloane chuckled heartily, taking Peggy's hand and lowering his lips to her knuckles in gentlemanly fashion before turning and nodding respectfully to his employer.
"Sir."
"I see you and young Ronan are getting along swimmingly." Beckett sighed as he took the seat Sloane had just vacated. "You should be glad that he finds your impertinence charming. Most men of his position would be mightily offended by your tone."
"Most men are idiots." Peggy shot back, and to her surprise, her father smirked in agreement.
"That is very true." He waved away a servant from the table and reached out to pour the tea for himself and his daughter. "Though still, that does not mean we should abandon decorum. After all, is it not our duty as the higher men and women to set an example for those below us?"
"I don't know, you tell me." Peggy accepted her cup. "Speaking of decorum, where is this mysterious little sister of mine who was supposed to join us for tea?"
"She won't be joining us this morning. She is below with her governess, attending her lessons. She may join us later in the day when she is done. She is most anxious to meet you." Beckett sucked in a sharp breath of annoyance. "She has heard about your pirate past and is most excited about your stories. For some reason, the idea that she is related to a pirate is the most thrilling to her."
Peggy smirked, feeling her chest sting as she was vividly reminded of how Elizabeth used to be so eager to hear stories about pirates and sea myths, much to her father's dismay.
"Does she know about what I am?"
"No." Beckett shook her head. "There is no need to inform her of your condition. Besides, it is safer this way. Many men in the Company still believe people like you and your mother need to be eliminated. The less who know about what you are, the safer you shall be."
Peggy nodded in agreement. So, her father did care enough about her not to want her dead. That, at least, was good to know. But that did not mean he could not hurt her in other ways. She'd have to tread carefully.
However, she was finding it very difficult to keep her composure, what with her father watching her every move like a hawk, his eyes softening as he watched her add sugar and cream to her tea to improve the flavour to her liking.
"Forgive me." He coughed, quickly schooling himself back into his usual mask. "You still take your tea like you used to."
"Well, I guess there are some things that one cannot change no matter how much you try," Peggy murmured as she took a sip, slightly unnerved.
Sloane was right. Despite his arrogant and controlling attitude, her father still held some fondness for her. It was eerie.
"I am glad to see the dress fits you well." After a small sip of his tea, Beckett said, "I only had a rough estimate of your size, so I was unsure if it would need to be tailored."
"The corsetry might need some adjusting." Peggy murmured stiffly, "And the stockings are too narrow for my feet, but everything fits well enough apart from that."
"I see. Well, I shall see that a seamstress retakes your measurements when we reach Port Royal."
"That won't be necessary." Peggy waved him off airily. "I can refit my clothing well enough. I have been doing it for years."
"Yes, a washerwoman would have great experience tailoring and mending clothing." Beckett took another sip of his cup and peered imperiously over the rim at her. "It is comforting to know you were lucky enough to find a good, honest job and a safe abode. Many women in your position would have sold themselves for coin on the streets."
Peggy stiffened in her seat. He had done his research, hadn't he? How much else had he discovered?
"How much do you know about me?" Peggy asked carefully, trying to keep her voice airy and casual.
"Quite a fair amount, though, as you said to Mister Sloane, it is not the same as truly spending time and getting to know you. Your true name is Margaret Jane Beckett, though you currently prefer to be called Peggy Delphine Blake. You were born on the twenty-eighth of February, and you have a birthmark behind your right ear in the shape of a small fish."
Unconsciously, Peggy reached behind her ear for the mark, a faint blush dusting her cheeks despite herself as she remembered how Will teased her for 'forgetting' to wash behind her ears when they were children.
"As for your life in the past thirteen years, that has been rather easy to get a hold of, but I know most of the basics. After you fell off my ship on the passage to England, you spent two years serving aboard the Black Pearl under the captaincy of a certain Jack Sparrow. Then, you were thrown overboard during a mutiny led by the infamous Hector Barbossa. Shortly after that, you somehow ended up stranded at Port Royal, where you came into the care of a blacksmith named John Brown and worked as a washerwoman for both the Swann household and then the Navy base at Fort Charles. You lived with mister Brown and his apprentice, a certain mister William Turner." He paused as Peggy's jaw clenched uncomfortably at the mention of the young blacksmith "with whom you seemed to share a close enough bond with to follow him in his rescue of Miss Elizabeth Swann, daughter of your previous employer Governor Weatherby Swann. During this adventure, you were reunited with Sparrow and following a very messy rescue attempt to save him from the gallows, you decided to rejoin him and resume a life of piracy by his side as his woman."
Peggy spat her drink back into her cup.
"His what?"
"That is what the most recent reports from my men state, at least." Beckett countered swiftly, lip curling with disdain as she ignored the napkin provided and wiped her mouth with the back of her hand. "I take it they are incorrect about that fact."
"In spades!" she gaped in horror. "Good grief, Jack's woman? Is that what people think? Eguh!"
"Yes, I found it very difficult to believe myself." Beckett bristled with shared disgust. "Especially since I have it on good authority that you and Mister Turner shared a much closer relationship during your time living together."
Peggy froze in her chair.
"What did you just say?" She breathed, not liking how her father's eyes lit up as if he had struck gold.
"I have many men at ports across the Caribbean gathering information for me." He smirked as he drained the last of his tea in a smug swig. "The one in Port Royal has been loyal to me for years. When we asked for information about your time in Mister Brown's forge, he said that many sources told him that you and Mister Turner were remarkably close and affectionate with one another. Indeed, many in your community thought the two of you were secretly courting and would marry once Mister Turner could afford to take over the smithy from his master. You can imagine their surprise when he boldly declared his love for Miss Swann at the execution of Jack Sparrow and entered an engagement with her instead."
"Not that surprising." Peggy gulped down the hard lump in her throat, eyes darting down to the table as she tried to disguise her tense face with a sip of her cup. "William always loved Elizabeth for years. We were just housemates and friends."
"Ahhh…I see how it is." Beckett's smile fell slightly as he looked over her face. "You were in love with him. But he did not return your feelings. And so, you left him for a life of piracy."
Peggy's lip curled. It was one thing to hear Jack speak of the topic. Jack had seen it all; he was there, he shared in her frustration, and he had been there to bolster her when she was at her lowest.
To hear her father, this cold, callous snake, speak so blithely about her emotions as if they were as trivial as the weather made her skin crawl and her stomach curdle hotly.
Something of her anger must have shown in her face because Beckett was quick to cough and regain his professional cordiality, mixing in some fake sympathy for good measure.
"I suppose it would have been most improper for you to remain living with Mister Turner, given his engagement to such a prominent woman. Why you had to run off with Sparrow, of all people, is beyond me."
"As you said, it was improper for me to remain with William. And where was I to go if I could not live with him? As far as I knew at the time, I was practically an orphan. I had no prospects and would have barely had any money to find an affordable living situation as a single woman." Peggy grunted, turning her gaze pointedly to the ocean on the horizon.
"And you thought piracy was a better option?"
"It was my life, my decision. And frankly, I do not regret it. As a pirate, I can choose my path without the meddling of a man who thinks they can own me."
"And yet you chose to sail under the colours and control of a man like Sparrow?" Beckett's lips pursed.
That gave Peggy pause. Something about the way he said Jack's name seemed far too strange. He seemed to spit the name out as if it were some curse.
"How well do you know Jack Sparrow?" She asked curiously.
Now it was Beckett's turn to look uncomfortable, though he hid it remarkably well. If it had not been for the telltale avoiding eye contact, a trait Peggy often did when she felt under pressure, she might have missed it.
"Did Sparrow not tell you about his past?" he murmured delicately, setting his cup and saucer on the table.
"I know he has had dealings with the EITC." Peggy folded her arms and leaned back. "I know he was once a privateer commissioned to carry slave cargo. I know he freed said cargo instead of delivering it, got branded a pirate for it, had his ship sunk, and made a deal with the devil to bring it back from the depths. And from how you talk about him, I take it you were the one who branded him?"
"Yes. It was me he had dealings with." Beckett's eyebrows rose in astonishment. "You must be close to Sparrow to know all that information. As far as my spies tell me, such a story is not common knowledge even in Tortuga, so Sparrow clearly kept quiet about it. And yet he would tell you. Tell me my dear, if you are not romantically involved with Sparrow, what is your relationship with him?"
"I would have thought your little bird Sloane would have been able to tell you?" Peggy smirked. "What with him spying on Jack and me and having him kidnap Captain Labelle's little boy, Jimmy? Speaking of which, did you return him back to his mother?" She asked quickly. "No double-crossing? No tricks?"
"As far as I am aware, no." Beckett poured himself another cup of tea. "The boy has been returned to his mother, and they have been compensated accordingly for their troubles. So long as she does not interfere in any future dealings, Captain Jacqueline Labelle need not fear the wrath of me or the Company."
Fearing the Company is one thing. She'd hardly be afraid of a little man like YOU. Peggy snarled in her head. Yes, Labelle might have betrayed her trust, and she was still bitter about it, but Peggy could understand why. She may be fond of Jack and Peggy, who were pirates loyal to the Brethren Court, but she was also a mother first and foremost. Her son Jimmy meant everything to her. Hopefully, the two of them will find somewhere safe to hide at sea or on another island. Given her father's lengths to procure her, Peggy was sure he would scorch the earth to get what he wanted.
But what did he want? He had her in his clutches, so what was his next goal? Why was he sailing to Port Royal? Now that he had Peggy, he did not need William for anything…did he? Was he safe from persecution now that her father had what he wanted? Or was this only the beginning? Had her abduction been just a small stopgap on the way to something worse?
"So what happens now?" Peggy asked as she let her father serve her another cup of tea. "You said you have business in Port Royal, so I am guessing that's where we are headed?"
"Yes, it is." Her father smirked, relaxing in his seat, looking like a cat with the cream and the canary all in one. "And you will greatly help me in my next endeavour. And if you are helpful, I may be able to grant you that which was denied to you so cruelly."
"Oh?" Peggy took a stiff sip of her tea. She had a bad feeling about where this was going.
"Yes. As mentioned, you are closely connected to Mister Turner and his fiancé, Miss Elizabeth. As you know, Governor Swann used his connections in Court to attain a pardon for the crimes against the crown for the young couple. Unfortunately for him, his connections are not quite as prominent as mine."
"You overturned the judgement," Peggy growled, feeling her fangs extend ever so slightly in her mouth, her heart hammering in her chest.
"Yes. And a good thing, too. As noblemen, we must set an example for the empire. How would it look to the common folk if we used our power and influence to evade justice that is supposed to serve the good of the realm? Such actions create a breeding ground for resentment and revolution. However, let it not be said that I am without mercy. With your help, I am willing to offer Mister Turner and his fiancé a deal to help lighten their sentence, and there may even be something in it for Sparrow if he should prove useful. Indeed, if all goes well, then true justice may be found, and maybe, if you still feel that strongly about Mister Turner, I can arrange to dissolve his engagement to Miss Swann and for the two of you to-"
"How f**king dare you!" Peggy snarled so ferociously that her fangs extended, and her eyes flashed silver.
"I beg your pardon?!" Beckett's nostrils flared as he caught sight of the claw-like nails extending and digging into the tablecloth so that they left several large gashes in the material.
"You heard me! How dare you use my feelings for Will to push your filthy agenda. Then again, I don't know why I did not expect this from a man like you." Peggy snorted with disdain. "You can pretend to be all high, mighty, and noble, but I have heard enough men justify their actions with the same old excuses. If there was one thing your stunt with Labelle and Sloane proved last night, it was that you're not above playing as dirty as a pirate to get what you want. The only difference is, is that you're legally allowed to act like an arse because of the privilege of your station." She leaned forward to rest her elbows on the table and look him squarely in the eye. "Let me guess. You need something from Will and Elizabeth. Something important. You cannot simply ask them to help you with this task because you know they will refuse or double-cross you at the first chance. So, you need something to dangle above their heads to make them comply with your every wish without issue. And if they refuse, then no harm will bedone. You can just give them the order to dance the hempmen's jig, and that's two fewer loose threads to worry about. Two fewer pirates in the world to taint it? Am I wrong?"
Beckett blinked at his daughter, his expression blank as he looked at her up and down.
"That is…that is a very accurate assessment of the situation, yes." He answered after a shocked pause, bristling in his chair as he fixed her with an admonishing scowl, "Though I would appreciate a less vulgar delivery. Whether you were once a pirate, you have always been and will be my daughter. I will not have any daughter of mine swearing like some common thug off the street. It is bad enough you could never tame that sharp tongue or that beastly temper of yours."
"Why? The way I see it, Father, is that my sharp tongue is something I seem to have inherited from you. As for my beastly temper, that is something I cannot help as it is as much a part of me as the seawater that flows through my blood. So you only have yourself to blame for that one." Peggy snapped back, blood boiling in her veins. "Also, if you want a docile little bitch then get a dog. Women with my condition, as you so politely put it, do not take kindly to men who try to kidnap, lock us up and keep us miserable prisoners. Just ask my mother. Oh wait, I forgot. You cannot; she's dead because of you." she added and was pleased to see the flash of anger cross her father's eyes, making the grey-blue orbs sharpen like swords.
"Choose your next words very carefully, Margeret." He hissed softly under his breath, a snake rearing to strike. "As your father, I have the right to discipline you as I see fit. I'd hate to resort to such matters so soon after bringing you back into my life, but I will if I must."
"Peggy." Peggy corrected him on autopilot. "My name is Peggy. Margaret might be my name on paper, but I am, and always have been Peggy."
"You would defile the name I gave you out of spite?"
"HA! Oh, the arrogance!" Peggy shook her head and laughed. "You think that me choosing to call myself something other than the name you forced on me is simply to spite YOU? I hardly remembered you for thirteen years. How on earth could I spite you if I did not know you? I might have been born Margaret Beckett, but Peggy Blake is who I am. You had nothing to do with that choice like you had nothing to do with my life till this morning."
"Selfish, ungrateful child." Beckett snapped, his voice a quiet simmer of rage. "Do you know how difficult it has been searching for you all these years, acquiring documents to clear your name and wipe away your death record? Legitimising you so you may enjoy the comforts and privileges to support you in life! All that hard work, all for you, and this is how you show gratitude?"
"Oh, cut the pile of horse shit, ya hornswoggling bilge rat!" Peggy sneered, viciously victorious as she saw the officers around them shift uncomfortably in their seats as their employer bristled and seethed. "All the hard work you have put in to capture me has only ever been for yourself! Not once since you found out about my existence have you ever asked me what I wanted or how I felt about anything. You speak of comforts and privileges, but not once in this conversation have you ever considered that what makes me happy in life is vastly different to your narrow worldview. Even now, you talk about dissolving Will and Elizabeth's marriage and offering him up to me on a platter despite his not loving me. Did you not once consider that maybe if I were to be with a man, I'd want him to love and want me of his own free will rather than be forced to take me as if I were a burden?"
"Marriage for love is a fantasy. You'd do well to dismiss one because it will only weaken your position." Beckett rolled his eyes as if she were merely a small child throwing a tantrum. "As for Turner, do not lie to me about your affections. I see how much you love him, and I know from how you act that if you had the chance to be with him and have it all, you'd take it just like I did with your mother."
"No! No, I would not! I am nothing like you! The fact I left William so he could be happy is proof enough!" Peggy felt her eyes water. "Face it, Lord Beckett, you have no love in your heart for anyone but yourself! Even my mother, whom you claimed to love, was a trophy you kept locked up. If you had any love for her or me, her daughter, you'd have let us both go instead of trying to keep us in gilded cages!"
"That is out of the question!"
"Then we have nothing more to discuss!" Peggy sucked in a shaking breath as she stood to her feet "I will not parley with a creature like you for the life of the man I love. No matter if it kills me!"
"Selfish little fool!" Beckett rose to his feet, almost shaking with silent rage as his daughter sneered.
"Hark, who's talking? Though perhaps I suppose as blood of your blood, I must have inherited it from somewhere!"
They glared at one another fiercely across the table, their grey-blue eyes as stormy as the clouds above, even as Peggy flicked a stray rebelling curl from her face and turned on her heel to storm off towards the railing.
"Not so fast, Margaret!" he clicked his fingers, and immediately, several officers rushed to block Peggy's path.
"Peggy!" Peggy snapped automatically, glaring so venomously at the officers before her that they shrank back a little. "And please tell your men to stand down, if only for their sake. I'd rather them not get on the bad side of my beastly temper, as you so delicately put it."
"And risk you escaping to warn your beloved Mister Turner?" Beckett sneered. "No, I think not. Mister Mercer!"
Peggy scowled as she saw the menacing, blood-scented clerk with the scar on his face suddenly appear from around a piece of rigging.
Had he been back there all this time, or had she been too absorbed in arguing with her father to have noticed him?
"Take my daughter back to her quarters and lock her in for the remainder of the voyage. She clearly needs more time to recuperate and regather herself after last night's ordeal. And set a guard to man the door. I would not see her safety compromised."
"As you wish, my Lord. Miss Beckett." Mercer reached out to take her arm only to have himself be shoved off roughly by Peggy.
"I can manage to walk just fine on my own, thank you very much," Peggy growled, but Mercer was not phased by her viciousness.
"Then, if you would care to follow me closely, miss, that would be most helpful."
Peggy nodded silently, seething as she saw two men close in behind her and Mercer, whom she noticed was fingering a small knife tucked away in a sheath on his belt under his coat.
Sloane might have had brute force on his side, but Mercer…he was bloodthirsty in that cold-blooded reptilian sort of way.
It made Peggy's selkie hackles stand on end, being near him.
Still, she followed, doing her best to ignore the seething glower of her father as she descended below deck and out of sight.
"'ow dare dey?"
The woman in the shack scowled as she looked down into her scrying bowl full of seawater.
In its depths, she could see the face of the confused young woman with red hair being cinched into a corset by a small, mousy lady's maid before ripples made the image fade.
This was bad. The East India Trading Company now had the last of the Caribbean Selkies back under their thumb. Those monsters that had taken so many daughters and sons of the ocean now sought to wipe out their kind with her aid.
The woman in the shack's knuckles gripped the conch shell pendant that hung over her breast so tight that her knuckles paled. The pendant was glowing, and the sobs of a woman weeping were issuing from within its folds, making the shack echo with sorrow.
"Brothas an sistas of di wind an tides guide dis Selkie home to 'er love by di swiftest current an kip har safe from harm. Mi yuh sista beseech yuh."
Usually, she stayed out of mortal affairs, for her powers were far too weak to intervene, but she had worked too hard and long to mould the young selkie to her designs to lose her just yet.
Just a bit longer, and they would pay.
They would all pay.
"Say that again?!"
It took Ronan Sloane not to wince at the deadly tone in his employer's voice.
Lord Cutler Beckett was not one prone to angry outbursts. His anger was as sharp and cold as ice and quiet. Deathly quiet.
The only thing that betrayed his ire was his eyes, blue-grey blizzards in a calm, calculated mask.
Very few individuals could bring the Director of the EITC to raise his voice in wrath, and one of them had just leapt overboard. At the same time, most of the crew had been busy battening down the hatches or harrying up on deck to aid in sailing through the massive storm that had suddenly crashed down upon them.
While it had been a rather dismal-looking day, to begin with, in an hour, it almost seemed as if the heavens and the ocean had turned against the HMS Endeavour.
Even now, Sloane and his colleague Mercer had to brace themselves against the wall as the ship rocked heavily from side to side. Sloane did not envy the state of Mercer nearby. Despite his attempts to stay stoic, the usually menacing clerk's scarred face had turned a nasty shade of pale green, and he was forcing himself to keep his mouth shut to avoid vomiting over the carpet.
How their lord Beckett was managing to stay as intimidating as he did while gripping onto a candelabra by the wall for support was a testament to his wrath directed towards a very sheepish and squirming excuse of an officer who was doing his best to cling to the door as the ship tilted precariously to the right.
A large bruise on the poor youth's cheek was darkening from red to purple.
"M-Miss Beckett, sir. The elder one, she-she…" the poor lad gulped, averting his gaze so he looked anywhere but Beckett's cold glower. "She has escaped my Lord. Sh-she jumped overboard after she attacked me and ran up on deck."
"And how was she able to attack you?"
"The C-captain ordered as many hands on deck to help the sailors, so I sent Officer Myers to help while I checked in on Miss Beckett."
"Check in?" Becket's nostrils flared.
"Y-yes, sir. With the way the ship has b-been swaying I thought I should make sure she was safe from anything falling over in her cabin." The poor lad's feet slipped from under him as a wave buffeted the ship roughly.
"Get out!" Beckett rolled his eyes and waved the younger man off dismissively.
"M-My lord?"
"Out! You're of no use in here!" Beckett raised his voice to be heard over the loud rumbling of thunder.
Sloane gritted his teeth as he watched the lad stumble out of the room, desperate to flee his boss's fury.
"We shouldn't blame Officer Higgins, my lord," Sloane called to Beckett, who had opened his mouth to sneer. "There are many things in the cabins that are not nailed down; Miss Beckett would have ample choice of improvised weapons to hand if given the chance. As for her jumping overboard, she, like her captain, has a reputation for being a wildcard."
"If you have any suggestions for how to apprehend Margaret again in the middle of this blasted storm-" Beckett paused as the boat rocked once again, "-I suggest you speak quickly, Mister Sloane. My patience is running very thin."
Wow, she truly has done a number on you, hasn't she? My kind of woman. Sloane sucked in a deep breath as the ship's floor quickly evened out as they finally found a less rough patch of water.
"Forgive me, sir; we do not need to worry about catching up to Miss Beckett. She's too loyal to Will Turner to stray too far. She'll be at Port Royal quicker than us, but we can make up time once she's on land."
"Mister Sloane is correct, sir," Mercer grunted as he dared to open his mouth, sparing a small glower at his colleague who smirked at his sickly complexion. "We have more than enough men to overturn the town and search for her, and Turner should try to get the slip on us."
"They better be ready to comb every inch of that island if they have to." Beckett's fists clenched on his support, knuckles whitening to the colour of chalk as he hissed:
"I am not letting her slip through my fingers again. Not when we're so close to our goal!"
William Turner stared at the ocean as he strode towards the empty beach. It was dawn, and he was already dressed and prepared for his wedding day.
He should have been at the forge, mentally preparing himself to wed the love of his life in a few hours.
Yet here he was, going to the beach in his wedding suit to watch the red sunrise.
A sailor's warning.
And indeed, he felt the hair on the back of his neck prickle as the sun climbed slowly, higher and higher, staining the world a bloody shade of red.
Despite his recent adventures with the supernatural, Will was not sure he believed most of the ocean's superstitions. However,he could not fight the feeling that something was wrong in the air. The storm last night had been one of the most violent Port Royal had ever seen, and now in the early hours of the morning, it was still damp and looked like rain.
It almost felt like the ocean was calling and begging him to return to its waters. To find her before it was too late.
It happened every time he looked at the ocean. He felt a pull to it so strong that sometimes, without consulting his brain, he found his feet headed straight for the water.
It sometimes got so bad that he forced himself to stay inland and avoid the beach or ocean for days and weeks. After all, he was the man betrothed to the Governor's daughter; he had responsibilities as a fiancé that he could not walk out on.
There were etiquette lessons and talks of business and politics he had to educate himself on to be well-received by the echelons of high society he was to join through his marriage. While informative and interesting, those lessons and meetings were also tedious and grating. But Will put up with it. After all, he was marrying well above his original social status, and if he wanted to be with Elizabeth, he had to put the effort in.
Of course, he could not continue his trade as a blacksmith after his marriage. In addition to naming Elizabeth and Will the inheritors of his mansion and estate, Governor Swann had been most generous in offering to buy both the apartment and the forge from Mister Brown and gift the business to his new son-in-law as a belated wedding present. This meant that shortly after the marriage license was signed, Will would be the sole owner and proprietor and have the power to hire other blacksmiths and apprentices to work under him as employees, elevating his status from mere blacksmith apprentice to merchant. While merchants were still of the middle class, it was still a more acceptable profession for the common-born husband of a noblewoman.
While this was a massive boon Will would never dream of turning down, it dampened his spirits that he would no longer be so free to practise his craft regularly. Despite his moving up in the world, Will did truly enjoy blacksmithing. It was challenging but satisfying work, and he had worked hard to become skilled and accomplished.
Of course, Elizabeth assured him that he could take on private commissions for the other noblemen and members of high society, but Will did not know how he felt about such offers. The way those people looked at him whenever he spoke of his craft made him feel like a performing monkey on display. He wondered if his work would ever be truly appreciated or simply a useless novelty item for the rich that would be forgotten and tossed away once it had lost its lustre.
The smell of the sea spray hit his nose, and Will sighed.
After his adventure with Jack and the Black Pearl, Will had his fill of pirates to last him a lifetime.
Now, all he wanted to do was settle down, marry his beloved Elizabeth in a few days, and form a new life with her. A new life where he would no longer be alone in that dingy little forge and apartment, surrounded by memories of a beautiful girl with curls of fiery copper and grey-blue eyes.
He had so far been vigilant in his conviction to stay away from the ocean. But that dream he had the night before had thrown him completely off his game. He could hardly concentrate on his work, and so hedecided to take a walk, only for his feet to guide him straight towards the beach.
And not just any beach.
As he approached the water, Will looked down at the sand beneath his booted feet.
Ten years ago, he found a little girl with red hair and grey-blue eyes near this spot—ten long but wonderful years ago.
"What am I doing here, Peg?" he asked himself aloud, staring at the red sky. "Why did I have that dream? Has something gone wrong? What are you trying to tell me?"
He knew he must have sounded mad, talking as if she could hear him when she was probably miles upon miles or perhaps even oceans away. Or maybe that was because he was hoping she would?
It was not as if the last six months had been awful, but Will would not say they were entirely happy either.
Despite their happiness at finally being able to be with one another, he and Elizabeth received a lot of flak from the aristocracy and, surprisingly, from many of the common folk, too, at the beginning of their engagement. The whole sweeping the damsel in distress off her feet with a daring do might be romantic in a novel, but Will had been quick to learn that, in real life, such acts were far less rosy and well received.
The Commodore had been a well-liked member of the nobility for his leadership skills and sense of justice.
Many people had been looking forward to the Commodore's match with Elizabeth. He had been courting her for years and earned many people's respect for keeping Port Royal safe, and despite their rivalry for Elizabeth's affections, even William had once held him in high regard. It was a testament to his character that he had conceded in the fight for his ex-fiancée's affection with grace and dignity.
But then there had been that awful incident at the engagement party.
Will had not meant to lose his temper at his old rival, and he had felt immensely guilty about it after the fact. The poor man had been drunk, and watching his old fiancé in the arms of another man could not have been easy for him.
But then he blasted his mouth about Peggy, talking about her as if Will and Elizabeth had been the reason for her leaving—as if Will had offended and hurt her purposefully to such an extent that it had driven her away.
"No wonder she left you." the Commodore had sneered at him as he had finished his glass of whiskey. "You truly must be a pathetic fool if you thought a woman like Miss Blake would ever be happy watching you slobber over another woman after all the pain and heartache you put her through. She devoted her life to your happiness, risked her very life for yours, and you tossed her aside as soon as you had the chance to trade up. What woman would want to stay for a man who would destroy her heart like that without care?"
Will bristled and found his fists clenched by his sides.
It had been months since that night when the Commodore had vanished from their lives due to that freak hurricane.
Still, the words haunted Will, though he did not know why.
Peggy had left because she wanted to go back to the ocean. She had not lied when she had said that. Will had seen how free and happy she had been while sailing aboard the Interceptor with their ragtag crew. Of course, she had been sad to leave. Port Royal had been her home for ten years.
And yet, deep down in the back of his mind, a little voice could not help but sneer at him. What if Norrington was right? What if Will was the reason she left?
But no…that would be impossible. Will would assure himself that if Peggy had felt that strongly about him, she would have told him. Though she may omit specific facts from her life, she wore her heart on her sleeve. If she loved him as more than a friend, Will would have noticed a long time ago, wouldn't he?
Or had he truly been that blind? Was there something everyone else knew that he somehow had missed?
Unbidden hands rose to his lips as he remembered that lonely night aboard the Black Pearl. When Barbossa flung him and Peggy into that dining room, she kissed him and clung to him for dear life.
Will and Peggy had not shied away from showing affection to one another over the years, but she had never kissed him on the mouth before. It had been an unspoken line they had agreed never to cross. Will had been adamant about maintaining that boundary if only because he did not want to bring her any disgrace or put her in a vulnerable position, for if Mister Brown had thought her affections so easy to win, he might have sold her off to one of the brothels the next time his debts got out of hand.
Of course, Peggy had been drunk when she had kissed him, and it had only been a small peck.
But even after all these months, his lips tingled at the memory. It had been so different to his more recent kisses with Elizabeth. Elizabeth made his gut flutter with excitement and apprehension.
Peggy's mouth on his had made his entire body burn as if the fire from the forge had somehow made its way into his very blood. Or was that because he had also been under the influence of alcohol?
There were times when the memory resurfaced, usually at night, and he wondered what would happen if Peggy were with him and he could kiss her again. Would his body still burn as it had done that night? Would he still be so desperate to reach out and tangle his fingers in her soft curls or bury his face into her skin for its scent?
Even now, his desire to see and hold her was so strong that he almost threw himself into the ocean to search for her.
He felt sick with himself.
He was engaged to be married to a beautiful, wonderful woman, and on the day of his wedding, he was standing on a beach and thinking about another woman.
No. Not another woman. A little voice chided him from the back of his mind.
This was Peggy—HIS Peggy. His best friend who had stayed by his side for ten years. His family who was bound by bond, even if they shared no blood.
No matter how confusing his thoughts on her had been in recent months, there was one thing he knew without a doubt: He missed her dearly and wanted to see her—even if it was only once more, if only to hold her one more time. He wanted to hear her sing early in the morning, scold him for not properly putting the dishes away, or tease him about washing the soot from behind his ears.
He missed her so much that being alone in that apartment where they had once shared so many warm, beautiful memories physically hurt and-
A strange snapping sound echoed in the still dawn air, and Will turned sharply to find its source.
It came halfway across the small beach, closer to the water.
Will squinted in the red light of dawn as a large wave crashed upon the shore, leaving something large and dark on the sand in its wake.
Frowning, Will squinted in the dim and red dawn light as he cautiously approached the mass.
It writhed violently on the damp sand as it struggled against the wet white cloth covering it.
A wet white cloth that had sleeves and looked suspiciously like a shirt or a long shift.
Will felt his heart pound as an odd groan of pain filled the air. It started almost deep and guttural like an animal, only to shift into something more human…and distinctly feminine.
No…no, it could not be possible.
It couldn't be…
Could it?
"Peg?"
And before Will could even pause to think, he ran.
Here we go, DMC—almost there! Peggy finally had a face-to-face, heart-to-heart conversation with her father for the first time and FINALLY returned to Will.
If Beckett was a little OOC, forgive me. I figured that deep down in his cold, dead heart, he would have some care for his daughter, as twisted as it might be. I figured Beckett and her would clash big time! They might share some similarities, but face it: Peggy is a pirate with a hot head, and he is a cold egomaniac control freak. Also, yes, maybe he does have a shorter-than-normal fuse in this chapter, but face it, his child returns from beyond the grave, and he's eager to see her again, and then he finds out she's become the very thing he despises and is bucking him off. That would grate on any man's nerves.
One thing that always struck me in the films is that, despite working for the British Empire, Beckett, in many ways, is very pirate-like. He's ambitious, selfish, likes to horde treasures (just look at his office and the sets he usually is in) and will play dirty to get what he wants. He just does not vibe with the pirate aesthetic like his daughter XD. I took a few things from Beckett's backstory as fleshed out in the book "The Price of Freedom", which describes his childhood and his family, like his sister Jane (whom Peggy is named after) and his father, whom he hated with a vengeance.
Final note: The quote at the beginning of the chapter is a stanza from the folk song "Fare The Well," also known as "10,000 Miles." This is a real life traditional folk song from the 1700s. I could not find a movie quote or a pirate song that fit the bill, but this did fit just as well.
Anyway, let me know if you enjoyed it, and please follow my fave and review if you have any constructive feedback or suggestions for what you wish to see.
Cheers
FuzzyBeta