The Christmas Guest (4/4)

[geekmama]

Chapter 4: Christmas Gifts

Elizabeth was so relieved by James’ lenient attitude toward her out-and-out lie, and so overjoyed that he seemed to have no plans to arrest their houseguest, that she was moved to invite the Commodore to dinner on the morrow, Christmas Day. Norrington accepted with alacrity, and took his leave.

“What did he say to you?” Elizabeth demanded, climbing the stairs beside Jack, a tray in her hands: he was finally going to get his tea.

“Oh, this an’ that. Rather surprising, really. Offered me a Letter of Marque, if I care to take one.”

Elizabeth almost dropped the tray. “Jack! Really?”

He took the tray from her with a little smirk, and continued up the stairs. “Aye, ‘really!’ Only don’t go tellin’ everyone just yet. I need to consult with the crew before I sign anything.”

“Yes! Yes, of course. Oh, my Lord, what a relief. I thought I would have an apoplexy when Beck announced him, and then when you walked in…! My hair hasn’t quite turned white, has it?”

“Not noticeably. Sorry to’ve scared you like that. Not feelin’ quite meself, or  I would’ve gone more warily. Still, it seems to’ve worked out for the best, eh?”

“Yes, indeed!”



After tea with Lizzie, Jack had another long nap and by evening was feeling quite refreshed, and able to don his full piratical regalia, for he was to join his hosts for supper in the elegant dining room he’d so far seen only from without, on that first day, standing in the rain.

His clothes had been carefully cleaned at some point during the last few days. Peters brought them in, and Jack allowed the valet to help him dress. Jack was a little tired by the time they’d finished, but the result was quite satisfactory.

“This is more like!” Jack commented, looking in the mirror, and striking an attitude.

Peters smiled. “A great improvement over the nightshirt and dressing gown, sir.”

“Aye. And those knitted slippers.  Wonder what Norrington thought o’ those, eh?”

“I believe Miss Elizabeth made him a pair for Christmas two years ago, so it is likely he recognized those, too.”

Jack shook his head, chuckling.



Christmas Eve dinner was everything Jack had imagined it would be: food of a variety and abundance to gladden the heart of one who’d occasionally had to do without during the course of an erratic career; wine of a quality rarely seen in the Caribbean; table settings that fairly glowed in the light of many candles; and company that was ready to smile, and laugh, and be astonished as the quintessential pirate regaled them with exciting, humorous, and mostly true stories, and had interesting, though somewhat more mundane, tales of their own to tell. Jack realized he was letting his guard down more than he should, perhaps-the Governor, in particular, seemed astonished at Jack’s polite manners, and that he knew which fork to use, and all--but the relief of being on the mend after such a brief but dreadful illness, and the surprising outcome of his encounter with the Commodore made him very receptive to the holiday spirit that pervaded the atmosphere, and he took this as his excuse. It had been a very long time since he’d enjoyed a Christmas Eve like this, after all, and he found that he had missed it. But perhaps…just perhaps…this would be the first of many.

His only disappointment (and he would barely admit such a thing, even to himself) came after the long dinner, when the others made ready to go to the midnight service at the church. As Elizabeth donned her gloves and elegant wrap, she turned to Jack who had stayed up to see them off.

“Perhaps if you come to us next year, you will be in better health and able to attend with us. The church is always beautifully decorated with flowers, and Reverend Daniels is musically inclined, so we sing and sing--all the old hymns and carols!”

“Sounds delightful. But no worries,” said Jack, lightly. “I’ve not been much of a church-goer in recent years, except when disguised as a parson, of course.”

Elizabeth chuckled, but was not fooled. She said, “We’ll miss you!” and then kissed Jack on the cheek and whispered, “We’ll come see you after!”

“It’ll be halfway to dawn, by then!” Jack whispered back. But Will grinned and winked at him.

Jack watched them drive away, then went up to his room, weary and, oddly enough, a bit blue-deviled to see the evening end in such an anticlimactic fashion. He might not be one of the faithful, but he did enjoy good theater, and unlike the usual Sunday service, the one at midnight on Christmas Eve was generally marked by a warm-hearted showmanship that served to instill one with a happy holiday glow. He said as much to Peters as the man helped him undress.

But Peters said, “The service will no doubt be inspirational, but you must not jeopardize your recovery. Considering the severity of your recent illness it is not surprising you are feeling a little low. You must give yourself a little more time to fully regain your health and spirits.”

Jack agreed that this was true, and went to bed cheering himself with the thought of presenting his gifts to Elizabeth and Will on the morrow.

But the Turners were true to their word. Jack woke, coughing and a bit disoriented, a couple of hours later. When he stopped and was finally able to hear, faint sounds of the party returning from church came to his ears: various voices engaged in merry speech and laughter and then snatches of song-The Holly and the Ivy, was it? And then Here We Come A-Wassailing, with Will singing harmony to Elizabeth’s melody: ‘He can sing: fancy that!’ Jack thought. He lay there in the darkness, listening, but he must have begun to doze, for suddenly he came awake again with a start. There were footsteps outside his room, and then a scratching at the door. He struggled to sit up, the room dim in the light of the small fire Peters had left burning. The door opened and Elizabeth peeked in.

“Oh, lovely! You’re awake!”

“Difficult to sleep with all that merry racket you two were making,” Jack managed to retort, before the words deteriorated into another fit of coughing.

Apparently he’d dropped off for some time: Elizabeth now wore the nightgown and robe Jack recalled so fondly from his first night with them, and Will was down to his shirt and breeches, and bare feet. They’d come in and shut the door, and now came across the room, Will holding a tray with what appeared to be refreshments on it, and Elizabeth carrying two brightly wrapped packages: gifts!

“Poor Jack!” said Will. “Your cough sounds worse. But I’ve something here that’ll set you up nicely: hot rum punch! We’ll give a toast to good company, and to Christmas Morning, for it is, you know!”

“It is, isn’t it?” Jack said, brightly. “Is that why you’ve brought presents? I like presents.” Jack gave Elizabeth a suggestive smile and eyed her burden with interest.

She laughed. “How fortunate, for we’ve brought you some!”

Jack scooted back, making room for them on the bed, but said, “I’ve some for you, too! They’re over on the dresser.”

“You take these, then, and I’ll fetch yours,” said Elizabeth.

Jack took the gifts and began to examine them closely, turning them over, and shaking them gently. “This one’s…clothing of some kind. A shirt, maybe?”

Will laughed, and Elizabeth, returning, pouted. “You’re not supposed to guess!” She sat down on the bed, curled her legs under her, and took the cup of punch Will was handing her.

“But that’s half the fun!” Jack objected. He coughed again, and Will gave him a cup, as well. He took a deep, appreciative sip, then said, “Oh, Lord, yes. That’s good! Did you make it yourself?”

“No!” said Will. “The Governor did! He and Mrs. Hathaway are…er…communing in the library.”

“So he knows you’re both up here keeping me feet warm?” Jack wiggled said appendages against them, under the covers, and leaned back against the headboard, drinking his punch, quite bemused.

But Elizabeth said, “Well, not precisely. But it’s not as though we are doing something wicked!”

“No. More’s the pity,” mourned Jack, with an elaborate sigh, and a Look at the two of them.

Elizabeth burst into delighted laughter, and Will returned Jack’s sudden grin.

“Oh, you are dreadful!” chuckled Elizabeth.

“Pirate!” Jack said, as one stating the obvious.

“Pirate, indeed,” laughed Will. “Open your gifts.”

Jack had been right about the shirt, a very fine one, with beautiful wide lace at the cuffs. The other gift, from Will, was a knife. “God’s teeth, lad! It’s a work of art!” Jack said, holding it up. “And what’s this? My initials?”

Will looked pleased, and said, “I started it weeks ago. Somehow I thought…well, we’d hoped you’d come to us for Christmas. It almost seemed nonsensical, and yet here you are!”

Jack shook his head. “Sometimes I wonder if there isn’t something to that predestination the clerics natter on about.  Here, now: open yours, Will.”

Elizabeth watched with curiosity and anticipation as Will opened his little package, and when he finally held up the stickpin, she gave a little gasp. “Oh! It’s lovely!”

Will said, in wonder, “A black pearl!” He looked at Jack. “The perfect reminder of the days that changed my life. Thank you!”

But Jack shook his head. “Seems a poor gift, really, next to what you’ve given me this year. ‘Thank you’ falls rather short of the mark, I think.”

“I don’t know,” Elizabeth said, thoughtfully. “Perhaps that was predestined, too.  It all worked out so well, in the end. For us, at least.”

“Yes,” agreed Will. “For us.”

Jack knew they were thinking of the unfortunate soldiers who’d fought and died on the Dauntless, and of Barbossa’s men, released from that terrible curse only to be killed by sword, or by rope. He raised his cup. “We’ll drink a toast! To Norrington and his men, for doing what they did, and doing what they didn’t. And to God’s mercy on ‘em all.”

“Hear, hear!” agreed Will and Elizabeth together.



The sun shone brightly on the rain washed landscape of Port Royal that Christmas Day, yet even with this inducement it was past noon by the time the Governor and his family and guests emerged from their respective bedchambers, for their indulgence of the Christmas Spirit had continued until night was ready to give way to morning. All had slept well, however, under the lingering effects of warm fellowship and rum punch, and the group that gathered on the back terrace for a (very) late breakfast was full of affectionate cheer.

“Mrs. Hathaway,” the Governor said to his old friend, “I protest, you look ravishing in that silk shawl, as I knew you would. I do have excellent taste!”

“You do, Weatherby, and I must say, this is like to become one of my most prized possessions! The colors! And it has such a lovely feel to it! I do thank you, again. You are too kind.”

“Not at all, my dear. And I will treasure your gift to me, as well. Elizabeth! Only fancy: Mrs. Hathaway has given me a fan!” Swann produced the beautifully painted accessory from his coat pocket, snapped it open with a flourish, and wafted it lazily, in the accepted mode.

Elizabeth clapped her hands together, laughing. “Oh, Father! I never thought to see you indulge in such an affectation, but indeed, it quite suits you. But look, both of you, what Jack has given me!” She reached into the pocket of her gown and drew out a small box.

“A snuff box!” exclaimed Mrs. Hathaway. “And such an elegant one, too!”

“A snuff box?” The Governor frowned. “I am not at all sure I like my daughter indulging in such a habit.”

But Mrs. Hathaway said, “Oh, nonsense, Weatherby! Our good Queen Anne and her ladies are much addicted to the use of snuff. Why, I take it myself, on occasion.”

Elizabeth flicked the little box open, one-handed, as Jack had instructed her. “Would you care for some, ma’am?”

“Thank you, my dear. I believe I would.” Mrs. Hathaway took a pinch and inhaled it with practiced ease. “That is a very good blend, too!” she commented. She turned to Weatherby, smiling roguishly. “Mr. Hathaway used to take a pinch from my wrist, now and again. Said it gave it that ‘certain something!’”

Swann’s lips twitched. “I daresay, Augusta. You miss him sadly, I know.”

Mrs. Hathaway sighed. “Yes, very much. Although the widowed state does have its advantages, too. Hubert left me a very adequate portion, and life goes on in spite of my loss.” The roguish smile reasserted itself as she eyed her old friend.

Elizabeth’s father cleared his throat, slightly, and said, “Yes. Yes, indeed.” He turned to his daughter. “The box looks to be a pretty thing. Yes. But this picture on it: precisely what are those satyrs and nymphs getting up to?” Swann turned a penetrating eye on Jack.

“They’re frolicking,” Jack said, returning the look with a bland one of his own.

“Frolicking?”

“Aye.”

“Is that what they’re calling it, these days?”

Jack fought against laughter.

Elizabeth chuckled outright, but added, “Now no more criticism of my gift, for I love it, and there’s an end. But look what Jack has given Will!”

The company all looked, and Will gestured to the pin in his snowy cravat.

“A black pearl!” exclaimed Swann, diverted. “Rare indeed, and in such an elegant setting. Now that is a most appropriate gift. Well done, Sparrow!”

Jack inclined his head, basking once more in the sunshine of his host’s approval.



Later that afternoon, Will took Jack on a walk to look once again at the little house he shared with his Elizabeth, and to see how the work of repairing it was progressing. “An inch of water over most of the ground floor.  It quite ruined the carpets-wedding gifts from her aunt! And of course the floors will need refinishing.”

“Do you like living here?” asked Jack.

“In the Governor’s pocket, you mean?” Will chuckled. “I admit, I was against it at first, but could find no way to refuse such a gift. But it’s worked out very well. He has been all that is kind, and is very generous to me. We have a housekeeper, and Elizabeth has the help of his other servants when she needs it. I am able to concentrate on improving my craft. But indeed, I have more orders for weaponry than I can readily fill right now, and I know I have Norrington to thank for that.”

Jack nodded. “He’s a good man.”

“He is,” Will agreed. He looked at Jack. “But he would not have done for Elizabeth, I think.”

Jack smiled crookedly. “I think it likely she would’ve driven him mad!”

Will said, “She’s a bit headstrong at times,” and then grinned at Jack’s snort of laughter. “Well, very much headstrong. But one only needs to know how to go on with her.”

“Coercion, alternated with wheedling,” nodded Jack. “I know.”

“Yes! And a great deal of love.”

“And love. You’re a fortunate man,” Jack said, serious for once.

“God!” exclaimed Will. “I know it! It’s a tale for the ages, not a doubt of it. Sometimes I think it’s all a dream and I’ll wake up, still working for Brown and worshipping from afar.”

“She don’t want worshipping,” said Jack.

Will grinned. “I determined that, finally, as you may have noticed.”

“Aye. I did.”

Will hesitated, then said, “But of the three of us, you knew it, didn’t you?”

Jack shrugged. “I’ve known a lot of women. Can’t say as I understand ‘em all, but Elizabeth…well, she’s like me, in some ways.”

“Yes.” Will’s eyes flicked away, to the little house so near the cliff’s edge. Then he said, “I wanted to ask you…if anything happened to me, would you help her?”

Jack frowned. “You’re asking me? A pirate?”

“A privateer soon, from what I understand.”

“All right. A privateer, perhaps. Still, it’s more likely something would happen to me, don’t you think?”

“But if it didn’t…I don’t know: there’s something about her. Something that might break, rather than bend.  Do you understand?”

Jack considered, thinking of his own life, and then of what hers had been. Finally he nodded. “Aye, I do.”

“Then can I ask that of you? A promise to help her, should she have need.”

Jack smiled. “You risked it all for me, lad. How could I not promise to help, where I can?”

Will smiled, too, and nodded. “Good. For… she cares for you, too, you know. We both do.”

Jack shook his head, exasperated with all this plain speaking. “And how could I not know that, after the last few days, eh?”



“Do you think he knew? That he would… die, untimely?” A frown was in Elizabeth’s eyes as she looked into Jack’s, recalling him to the present.

“Knew?” Jack shook his head. “No! No man knows, or even really thinks of it seriously, in his heart. We’re all immortal, ain’t we? ‘Til the time comes.” He kissed her lips, then placed his forehead against hers. “No,” he said, very low. “He didn’t know, but he loved you. He wanted you to be happy, always, even without him, if it came to that.”

Tears threatened, and Jack pulled her close. She came, unresisting, and clung to him, biting her lip. After a moment, she took a shaky breath. “Thank you for keeping your word to him,” she whispered, and held her cheek warm against his.

He smiled. “Oh, aye, a great sacrifice that was, fulfilling a promise that essentially makes you mine!”

She stilled, and drew back, and looked at him. And achieved a pout. “Yours! And what makes you think I’m yours, Pirate?”

His smile slipped. He rolled her onto her back, pressing her into the bed, and for a long moment he looked down at her, as beautiful as when he’d first seen her, but with a womanly tenderness that had not been evident in the spirited girl she’d been five years before.

He asked her, his voice a rough caress, “Are you not mine, then, Elizabeth? Are you not?”

But then his kiss held her silent, and he spent a great deal of the next hour endeavoring to influence her reply.

~~ Finis ~~