Fic: 'Bath Holiday' (3 & 4/4 - J/E - PG13)
Here, finally, are the concluding chapters of my Twelve Days of Christmas offering, Bath Holiday, delayed due to a post-Christmas flu that's been wreaking havoc among my family (including little grandson, poor baby). Many thanks, as always, to hereswith for editing.
Chapter Three: An Unsatisfactory Affair
1 ~
”My dear, you are magnificent!” Minerva Swann exclaimed, looking her niece over, from the topmost curls of the girl’s elaborate new coiffure to the toes of the satin slippers that peeped from beneath the gown of deep blue velvet, the embroidered stomacher, a delicate pattern of gold on beige satin, making the whole festive, rather than somber.
Elizabeth frowned at her reflection in the mirror. “You don’t think it’s too much?”
“My dear, it’s Christmas, and nearly a year since poor Will passed. It’s not in the least too much,” Minerva assured her. “Moreover, you will be meeting many people tonight, some of high estate and for the first time!” And some not for the first time, such as Viscount Allyn, whose attentions had become most marked this last week. Minerva and Allyn’s mother were thrilled, for they were very old friends - had spent several years of their youth at the same convent school, in fact. - and the idea of their families becoming allied in such a way could not but please. Early days, perhaps, to be thinking of such a thing, however. Elizabeth seemed disinclined to encourage Allyn, though whether this was due to her widowed state or to some less appropriate reason could not be readily discerned.
There had been some reports that worried Minerva, from her dresser, Mrs. Pierce, who’d waited on Elizabeth since her arrival, and from the chambermaid, too. But her niece had refused to allow Minerva to call in a physician, insisting that she felt very well and there was not the least need. And indeed, Elizabeth looked quite stunning this evening, though Min knew the artful application of rouge could do wonders for lips and cheeks that were a trifle pale.
“I wish…” Elizabeth began, then caught Minerva’s eyes with her own.
“You wish what?” Minerva asked gently.
But Elizabeth shook her head, smiled and said, “Nothing. Aunt Min, you have been so kind to me.”
“Nonsense!” Minerva said, heartily. “But if you feel inclined to reward me, you can give Allyn that additional dance he craves. He’s a handsome man and wealthy, too. Not that his wealth signifies, but… your Will wouldn’t have wanted you to pine away, you know.”
Elizabeth’s flush at these words owed nothing to artiface, but she only said, “No, you’re right, he wouldn’t,” and bent to kiss Minerva on her cheek.
2 ~
Christmas Eve, and still no word from Jack. Elizabeth bit her lip, allowing herself to scowl into the mirror. Quite safe to do so, after all, now that her aunt had gone out of the room.
Her spirits had taken a dreadful battering these last two weeks, and Jack was to blame. She was by turns worried and angry, and lonely always, in spite of her aunt’s efforts to distract her with civilized pleasures and introduce her to Bath society. Viscount Allyn, indeed! Elizabeth sniffed.
And then felt anxiety creep over her. No word from Jack since that note he’d sent the morning he’d left for Portsmouth. What if there had been some accident? Oh, she should have tried to send a messenger down to the Pearl, surely it would have been justifiable after the first week? But she had not, and now two weeks were past. Christmas Eve and still no word.
If he did not return, this would be her first Christmas without him in many years.
Her thoughts flew back to the first, when he had come to them, been stricken with an ague, and on recovering had encountered and, most fortunately, made his pact with Norrington; the second, when he’d taken her in secret to Tortuga so she could bid on and buy that beautiful sword for Will; the third when they’d been so amused by his playful pursuit of her maid Estrella; the fourth, when they’d all been so worried about Anamaria’s sister and nephew, caught in a slave uprising in Port au Prince; and the fifth, last year, when he and Will had come to the aid of a family in need and had barely made it back to Port Royal for the holiday.
Such happy times, Will at her side, and Jack, dear Jack to entertain and tease, care for and love them both.
And now, not a word.
She stiffened, growing angry. It was because of the child. Like a dash of freezing water, they’d both awakened to reality and Jack had taken it to heart, so much so that he was… gone.
But he couldn’t. He couldn’t!
“Oh, I shall go mad!” she hissed, pressing the heels of her hands against her temples. Then she heard a mewing enquiry, felt an insistent pressure brush round her ankles, and had to laugh. She bent and scooped up the kitten.
“It’s all right, darling,” she told it, holding it to her cheek. “I’ll be fine, really I will.”
And she would. She kissed the top of the kitten’s head, set her down, straightened and shook herself a bit, taking a deep breath. She would not let these blue devils ruin her Christmas, or, more importantly, her dear aunt’s.
So it was that five minutes later she was able to descend the staircase in her most queenly manner, allowing a smile to touch her lips at the sight of the party that had just entered the foyer. She held out her hand, saying, “Viscount Allyn, how charming to meet you again.”
3 ~
She gave the viscount that second dance, and was preparing to embark on a third after the late dinner buffet had been savored, and Minerva was vastly pleased. “Oh, Augusta, do you really think…?”
Augusta, the viscount’s mother, looked complacent. “Perhaps, Minerva. Perhaps.”
But before that third dance began, a latecomer was announced to the room: “Captain Jack Sparrow.” Minerva gave a small but dramatic gasp and turned to look.
The captain was appropriately dressed, at least, and in a rather magnificent fashion, though there was something rakish in his style too, the cut of his clothing, the way he carried himself, the light in his eyes as his glance met Elizabeth’s.
Elizabeth said something to Allyn and the viscount followed her across the room to greet the captain. Minerva, approaching as well, fancied the captain’s sangfroid slipped a trifle at the sight of Elizabeth’s swain.
“Captain!” said Elizabeth in greeting, “I hope all is well? We’d had no word and I scarcely knew when we could expect to see you again.”
“No word?” Captain Sparrow frowned. “But-“
“None!” Elizabeth said, and for a moment Minerva had a dreadful fear her niece was going to burst into tears, there was such a war of emotion on that fair countenance. Oh dear! Oh dear! But it passed, and as Elizabeth calmly introduced the viscount to the captain, Minerva wondered if she’d imagined her niece’s distress.
The two men exchanged bows, then Sparrow said to Minerva as the music began. “How do you do, ma’am?”
“Very well, indeed, Captain Sparrow,” Minerva replied. “May I wish you a happy Christmas?”
“I thank you.” Sparrow bowed again, then turned to Elizabeth. “Will you dance with me?”
Elizabeth shook her head. “I fear I cannot, being promised to Allyn for this one, and to another for the next set.”
“Is that so?” The captain lifted a brow.
Elizabeth merely inclined her head in farewell, took Allyn’s outstretched arm and was led away and into the dance.
Minerva said to the captain, “She’s quite taken with the viscount, as you see.”
Sparrow, watching the couple, muttered, “You’d think so, wouldn’t you?”
“I beg your pardon?” Minerva demanded.
“Nothing,” Sparrow said. He looked away from Elizabeth, and straight at Minerva, and smiled. “Do you dance, ma’am?” He held out his hand.
Minerva’s pique vanished, being rapidly replaced by a flutter of feminine pleasure (he is the handsomest creature…). And in spite of a small but not insignificant stab of concern for her niece, she set her hand on the captain’s arm and said, “I would enjoy it above all things!”
4 ~
Elizabeth went up to her rooms as soon as Vicount Allyn’s party had taken their leave, her plea of a headache, for which her aunt was all sympathy, not entirely facetious. Mrs. Pierce and a housemaid came at the first pull of the bell. Within a few minutes the beautiful but uncomfortable gown and shoes were shed, a cloud of winter nightgown enveloped her, and her hair was unpinned and brushed out.
“Will that be all, ma’am?” Mrs. Pierce asked.
“Yes, thank you, I shall brush my teeth and go straight to bed. Merry Christmas, Mrs. Pierce.”
“And to you, ma’am,” the dresser smiled, and shut the bedroom door behind her.
Elizabeth closed her eyes. She had thought she might weep, once she was alone, but all she felt now was a kind of exhausted lethargy. Jack was gone. He’d danced once, with Aunt Minerva, and then had departed without so much as a word.
She had ruined everything.
What had possessed her to indulge the fit of pique that had seized her on seeing him enter the room with all his habitual insouciance? She knew what it was: she’d been unable to either fall on his neck in relief or berate him as she’d wished to, not in such a public place. And so she had let him know of her displeasure in the only way she could.
More fool she.
But… at least he had returned to Bath. Perhaps he would come in the morning, or sometime tomorrow at least, and she would have her chance.
She should get some sleep. It wouldn’t do to look heavy-eyed, or to lose her temper again. They had to talk, she must tell him… what?
Unsure, but too tired to think clearly, Elizabeth rose, dutifully brushed her teeth, then fetched the gray kitten from where the tiny creature was curled on a chair and took her to off to bed.
*
A fierce spitting and the nip of tiny claws through the bedclothes woke her abruptly, not long after she’d drifted off.
“What? What is it?” Elizabeth sat up, squinting in the dim light, reaching out to smooth the coat of her frightened companion. And then she heard the noise at the window.
Chapter Four: The Journey Home
1 ~
Elizabeth got out of bed quickly, grabbed up a slipper - not much of a weapon, but the first thing she could put her hand to - and strode over to the window as the latch gave and one side swung open. Freezing air and some whirling snowflakes swarmed in, along with Jack, who thumped to the floor in an inelegant crouch.
“You!” she exclaimed.
“Aye, me, what did you think?” he said, standing up. “Or were you expecting Allyn?”
She gaped for a half second, then attacked, punctuating her words with harsh blows of the slipper. “How dare you! How dare you say such a thing, as though you didn’t abandon me here without a word!”
“Ow! Lizzie - ow! Stop that, you vile wench, I did send word, upon me bloody soul!” And he managed to grab the slipper and threw it aside, then grabbed her wrists.
“Let me go, Jack Sparrow!” she hissed, trying to shake him off.
“Not likely,” he retorted, maneuvering her quickly backwards, toward the bed. “You and I need to talk.”
And then she gave a small yelp as she fell, and Jack fell too, right atop her, settling himself strategically to subdue her. Quite furious at being thus manhandled, she struggled fiercely, but he’d apparently done this sort of thing before and easily foiled her efforts. She stiffened and hissed at him again: “How dare you! If you don’t let me up at once I shall scream!”
“Will you, though?” he asked, looking down his nose at her.
She stared up at him.
They were both breathing hard, and he was a heavy weight upon her, his scent in her nostrils, his beautiful, shadowed face quite solemn as he watched her. She began to tremble, and her voice trembled too as she spoke: “What do you mean you sent word?”
“I sent a letter more than a fortnight ago, before we sailed for Bristol.”
“Bristol? The Pearl is in Bristol?”
“Aye. Didn’t think I’d make it here by Christmas, the way the wind held against us, but I knew I’d sent that letter and that all would be right and tight.”
“It… wasn’t.”
“I gathered as much.”
Tears stung, she was on the verge of weeping. “Let me up.”
“Ha! So you can go at me with that slipper again? I think not.”
She bit her lip. “I won’t hit you-“
“Too right you won’t. I get enough of that from Ana, thank you kindly.”
She gave a watery gasp of laughter. “Jack, we have to talk.”
“Aye, we can talk just fine like this. You thought I was gone for good, didn’t you?”
He wasn’t smiling, not at all, and there was something in his voice…
“Yes,” she whispered. “Because of… of….”
“Our child that was lost?”
Our child. Her eyes filled with tears at the stark truth, the wound still raw, but now… shared. “Oh, Jack.”
He rolled to lie beside her then, and pulled her into his arms.
*
There were tears glistening on his cheek, though perhaps they were hers, it was difficult to tell. But she wiped them away with her fingers anyway and asked him, “Would you have married me? “
“Aye. Would you’ve had me?”
She smiled, uncertainty at an end. “Yes.”
He smiled, too, stroking her hair, his rough fingers catching in the strands, just as they’d done most nights for many months. “So you’re not set on tying the knot with that dead bore Allyn, then?”
“He’s not a bore!”
“ ‘Course he is. Now, listen, love, I’ve been thinking. Had a lot of time to think, actually, these last two weeks, with the bloody wind fighting us the whole way to Bristol. It ain’t an easy run at the best of times, but Lord, you wouldn’t credit the storms-“
“Oh, dear,” she said, interrupting. “But Jack, what were you thinking?”
He seemed to hesitate, then said, “Was thinking how I didn’t want to lose you, love. Not for any treasure you or I could name. And that… well, it would’ve been interesting. You and me, and… and the little one.”
“Interesting, indeed,” she murmured, and kissed him. Then looked at him straightly. “It could still happen, you know.”
“I know!” Jack’s eyes widened a bit at the thought. “You game, love? Are you willing to throw in your lot with an old pirate?”
“Captain Jack Sparrow, King’s privateer and my best friend in the world? I’m willing to take the risk.”
“If it chances.”
“If it chances,” she echoed.
He kissed her. “A truly piratical vow, I warrant. Though I expect your da would prefer we settle things before offspring are in the offing.”
She gave a moue of displeasure and said, “I have it in mind that when we marry it shall be with all due ceremony at St. George’s in Port Royal.”
“There’s a thought. Your father can give you away, and Norrington can do the same for me.”
She giggled.
And the bedroom door opened.
Elizabeth whispered, “The maid!”
Jack nodded and lay very still.
To no avail, however. The girl exclaimed, “Lawks!” and scurried across to close the window, which, in the heat of the moment, Jack had failed to completely secure upon entering. But the maid glanced at the bed as she passed, froze in startled horror, then shrieked.
2 ~
It was the work of seconds to stifle the little maid, but the damage had been done and within a minute Aunt Minerva was bustling in, tying her wrapper, her cap askew.
“What is the meaning of this?” she exclaimed on seeing Jack sitting on the edge of the bed.
He rose and bowed. “Good morning, ma’am.”
“I’ll good morning you, you scoundrel!” Aunt Minerva scolded. “How dare you insinuate yourself here, you… you… pirate!”
Jack turned to Elizabeth, looking hurt. “You told!”
“She’s known for years, Jack. I used to read blood curdling pamphlets in this very house, all about your youthful escapades.”
“Oh,” Jack said, not quite subduing a smirk.
Elizabeth grinned, then said quickly to her outraged relative. “Aunt Minerva, please! Jack is here with my blessing. I beg you will refrain from hysterics, or notifying the authorities.”
Aunt Minerva’s bosom was heaving, but she pressed her lips together briefly, then addressed the maid and her housekeeper and footman, both of whom had just entered. “Very well, Mrs. Morris, Annabelle, James: I want no gossip, do you hear? And I want breakfast on the table in one hour.” She watched the three servants leave the room, closed the door behind them herself, and turned back to Elizabeth and Jack. “Now. Explain.”
3 ~
A magnificent Christmas breakfast was served in the grand manner somewhat over an hour later. The errant captain had tidied himself, but the ladies were still in their night clothes and wrappers, for there were no other guests, and, as Minerva observed, “if one cannot dress as one pleases in one’s own home on Christmas morning the world is coming to something, that’s all.”
The world was coming to something in any case. Clandestine and utterly romantic love affairs, vital words left unsaid until the very nick of time, promises made, to be kept anon. Minerva sipped her coffee and peered at Jack and Elizabeth thoughtfully. Two peas in a pod, the captain had shrugged when the tale had been concluded, and Minerva feared he was right. Elizabeth was a sad rake-and the dearest creature. How she would be missed.
“You mean to leave as soon as tomorrow, then?” Minerva asked, a little wistfully.
Elizabeth nodded. “We’ll come to visit again, I promise. But… we need to go home.”
Minerva shook her head. “I would like to be a fly on the wall when you tell your father what you’ve just been telling me,” she said, her voice predicting no happy outcome.
But Elizabeth took Jack’s hand across the table. “He’ll understand. He knows Jack.”
“And he knows you,” the captain retorted, with a teasing smile.
Two peas in a pod.
4 ~
It poured buckets the following day, but Elizabeth didn’t mind in the least. Home. She was going home.
The kitten was in a snug basket, and Elizabeth and Jack sat close in a nest of soft blankets and furs, swaying as the coach bowled along the muddy but well-kept road to Bristol, to the great harbor with its many ships, where the Black Pearl waited.
Home.
The Pearl brooded in the rain, anchored fore and aft in the harbor, and Elizabeth’s thoughts went out to the ship as they were rowed across to board. I’m home, dear, for better or worse! And richer and poorer, in sickness and in health…
She was lifted up up up in a bosun’s chair, since she was wearing one of her gowns as well as a heavy boat cloak, and carrying the kitten’s basket. The moment her feet touched the deck, Gibbs and Anamaria were there to hustle her out of the rain and into the door of the Great Cabin, under the shelter of the quarterdeck.
“Here we are, darling,” she said, letting the kitten out to cautiously explore her new surroundings. Elizabeth shed her sodden cloak and looked about as well.
The drapes were open, the gallery windows letting in the scant afternoon light of this rainy day, and a hanging brazier added a warm glow. The big carved table was laden with a feast - cold meats, fruit, bread and pastries, wine - and many candles, rather as it had been that first time she’d seen it, in Barbossa’s company. But so many things had changed since that time, the cabin was far cleaner, and everywhere there was evidence of Jack. His favorite weapons and mementos gave it an exotic, splendid air, and his many books, charts, and navigational instruments told of the quick and curious mind that worked behind the handsome face. And, half hidden by a beautifully painted Chinese screen, was his bed. Their bed. The bed in which she’d found such bliss. The bed in which she’d conceived.
And might again, someday.
The door behind her opened and she turned to find Jack coming in, dripping profusely and smiling. He closed the door, and she watched as he took off his hat and rain gear, and then he came to her, damp as he was, and took her in his arms.
“Welcome home, love,” he said and kissed her.
Home.
~.~
Chapter Three: An Unsatisfactory Affair
1 ~
”My dear, you are magnificent!” Minerva Swann exclaimed, looking her niece over, from the topmost curls of the girl’s elaborate new coiffure to the toes of the satin slippers that peeped from beneath the gown of deep blue velvet, the embroidered stomacher, a delicate pattern of gold on beige satin, making the whole festive, rather than somber.
Elizabeth frowned at her reflection in the mirror. “You don’t think it’s too much?”
“My dear, it’s Christmas, and nearly a year since poor Will passed. It’s not in the least too much,” Minerva assured her. “Moreover, you will be meeting many people tonight, some of high estate and for the first time!” And some not for the first time, such as Viscount Allyn, whose attentions had become most marked this last week. Minerva and Allyn’s mother were thrilled, for they were very old friends - had spent several years of their youth at the same convent school, in fact. - and the idea of their families becoming allied in such a way could not but please. Early days, perhaps, to be thinking of such a thing, however. Elizabeth seemed disinclined to encourage Allyn, though whether this was due to her widowed state or to some less appropriate reason could not be readily discerned.
There had been some reports that worried Minerva, from her dresser, Mrs. Pierce, who’d waited on Elizabeth since her arrival, and from the chambermaid, too. But her niece had refused to allow Minerva to call in a physician, insisting that she felt very well and there was not the least need. And indeed, Elizabeth looked quite stunning this evening, though Min knew the artful application of rouge could do wonders for lips and cheeks that were a trifle pale.
“I wish…” Elizabeth began, then caught Minerva’s eyes with her own.
“You wish what?” Minerva asked gently.
But Elizabeth shook her head, smiled and said, “Nothing. Aunt Min, you have been so kind to me.”
“Nonsense!” Minerva said, heartily. “But if you feel inclined to reward me, you can give Allyn that additional dance he craves. He’s a handsome man and wealthy, too. Not that his wealth signifies, but… your Will wouldn’t have wanted you to pine away, you know.”
Elizabeth’s flush at these words owed nothing to artiface, but she only said, “No, you’re right, he wouldn’t,” and bent to kiss Minerva on her cheek.
2 ~
Christmas Eve, and still no word from Jack. Elizabeth bit her lip, allowing herself to scowl into the mirror. Quite safe to do so, after all, now that her aunt had gone out of the room.
Her spirits had taken a dreadful battering these last two weeks, and Jack was to blame. She was by turns worried and angry, and lonely always, in spite of her aunt’s efforts to distract her with civilized pleasures and introduce her to Bath society. Viscount Allyn, indeed! Elizabeth sniffed.
And then felt anxiety creep over her. No word from Jack since that note he’d sent the morning he’d left for Portsmouth. What if there had been some accident? Oh, she should have tried to send a messenger down to the Pearl, surely it would have been justifiable after the first week? But she had not, and now two weeks were past. Christmas Eve and still no word.
If he did not return, this would be her first Christmas without him in many years.
Her thoughts flew back to the first, when he had come to them, been stricken with an ague, and on recovering had encountered and, most fortunately, made his pact with Norrington; the second, when he’d taken her in secret to Tortuga so she could bid on and buy that beautiful sword for Will; the third when they’d been so amused by his playful pursuit of her maid Estrella; the fourth, when they’d all been so worried about Anamaria’s sister and nephew, caught in a slave uprising in Port au Prince; and the fifth, last year, when he and Will had come to the aid of a family in need and had barely made it back to Port Royal for the holiday.
Such happy times, Will at her side, and Jack, dear Jack to entertain and tease, care for and love them both.
And now, not a word.
She stiffened, growing angry. It was because of the child. Like a dash of freezing water, they’d both awakened to reality and Jack had taken it to heart, so much so that he was… gone.
But he couldn’t. He couldn’t!
“Oh, I shall go mad!” she hissed, pressing the heels of her hands against her temples. Then she heard a mewing enquiry, felt an insistent pressure brush round her ankles, and had to laugh. She bent and scooped up the kitten.
“It’s all right, darling,” she told it, holding it to her cheek. “I’ll be fine, really I will.”
And she would. She kissed the top of the kitten’s head, set her down, straightened and shook herself a bit, taking a deep breath. She would not let these blue devils ruin her Christmas, or, more importantly, her dear aunt’s.
So it was that five minutes later she was able to descend the staircase in her most queenly manner, allowing a smile to touch her lips at the sight of the party that had just entered the foyer. She held out her hand, saying, “Viscount Allyn, how charming to meet you again.”
3 ~
She gave the viscount that second dance, and was preparing to embark on a third after the late dinner buffet had been savored, and Minerva was vastly pleased. “Oh, Augusta, do you really think…?”
Augusta, the viscount’s mother, looked complacent. “Perhaps, Minerva. Perhaps.”
But before that third dance began, a latecomer was announced to the room: “Captain Jack Sparrow.” Minerva gave a small but dramatic gasp and turned to look.
The captain was appropriately dressed, at least, and in a rather magnificent fashion, though there was something rakish in his style too, the cut of his clothing, the way he carried himself, the light in his eyes as his glance met Elizabeth’s.
Elizabeth said something to Allyn and the viscount followed her across the room to greet the captain. Minerva, approaching as well, fancied the captain’s sangfroid slipped a trifle at the sight of Elizabeth’s swain.
“Captain!” said Elizabeth in greeting, “I hope all is well? We’d had no word and I scarcely knew when we could expect to see you again.”
“No word?” Captain Sparrow frowned. “But-“
“None!” Elizabeth said, and for a moment Minerva had a dreadful fear her niece was going to burst into tears, there was such a war of emotion on that fair countenance. Oh dear! Oh dear! But it passed, and as Elizabeth calmly introduced the viscount to the captain, Minerva wondered if she’d imagined her niece’s distress.
The two men exchanged bows, then Sparrow said to Minerva as the music began. “How do you do, ma’am?”
“Very well, indeed, Captain Sparrow,” Minerva replied. “May I wish you a happy Christmas?”
“I thank you.” Sparrow bowed again, then turned to Elizabeth. “Will you dance with me?”
Elizabeth shook her head. “I fear I cannot, being promised to Allyn for this one, and to another for the next set.”
“Is that so?” The captain lifted a brow.
Elizabeth merely inclined her head in farewell, took Allyn’s outstretched arm and was led away and into the dance.
Minerva said to the captain, “She’s quite taken with the viscount, as you see.”
Sparrow, watching the couple, muttered, “You’d think so, wouldn’t you?”
“I beg your pardon?” Minerva demanded.
“Nothing,” Sparrow said. He looked away from Elizabeth, and straight at Minerva, and smiled. “Do you dance, ma’am?” He held out his hand.
Minerva’s pique vanished, being rapidly replaced by a flutter of feminine pleasure (he is the handsomest creature…). And in spite of a small but not insignificant stab of concern for her niece, she set her hand on the captain’s arm and said, “I would enjoy it above all things!”
4 ~
Elizabeth went up to her rooms as soon as Vicount Allyn’s party had taken their leave, her plea of a headache, for which her aunt was all sympathy, not entirely facetious. Mrs. Pierce and a housemaid came at the first pull of the bell. Within a few minutes the beautiful but uncomfortable gown and shoes were shed, a cloud of winter nightgown enveloped her, and her hair was unpinned and brushed out.
“Will that be all, ma’am?” Mrs. Pierce asked.
“Yes, thank you, I shall brush my teeth and go straight to bed. Merry Christmas, Mrs. Pierce.”
“And to you, ma’am,” the dresser smiled, and shut the bedroom door behind her.
Elizabeth closed her eyes. She had thought she might weep, once she was alone, but all she felt now was a kind of exhausted lethargy. Jack was gone. He’d danced once, with Aunt Minerva, and then had departed without so much as a word.
She had ruined everything.
What had possessed her to indulge the fit of pique that had seized her on seeing him enter the room with all his habitual insouciance? She knew what it was: she’d been unable to either fall on his neck in relief or berate him as she’d wished to, not in such a public place. And so she had let him know of her displeasure in the only way she could.
More fool she.
But… at least he had returned to Bath. Perhaps he would come in the morning, or sometime tomorrow at least, and she would have her chance.
She should get some sleep. It wouldn’t do to look heavy-eyed, or to lose her temper again. They had to talk, she must tell him… what?
Unsure, but too tired to think clearly, Elizabeth rose, dutifully brushed her teeth, then fetched the gray kitten from where the tiny creature was curled on a chair and took her to off to bed.
*
A fierce spitting and the nip of tiny claws through the bedclothes woke her abruptly, not long after she’d drifted off.
“What? What is it?” Elizabeth sat up, squinting in the dim light, reaching out to smooth the coat of her frightened companion. And then she heard the noise at the window.
Chapter Four: The Journey Home
1 ~
Elizabeth got out of bed quickly, grabbed up a slipper - not much of a weapon, but the first thing she could put her hand to - and strode over to the window as the latch gave and one side swung open. Freezing air and some whirling snowflakes swarmed in, along with Jack, who thumped to the floor in an inelegant crouch.
“You!” she exclaimed.
“Aye, me, what did you think?” he said, standing up. “Or were you expecting Allyn?”
She gaped for a half second, then attacked, punctuating her words with harsh blows of the slipper. “How dare you! How dare you say such a thing, as though you didn’t abandon me here without a word!”
“Ow! Lizzie - ow! Stop that, you vile wench, I did send word, upon me bloody soul!” And he managed to grab the slipper and threw it aside, then grabbed her wrists.
“Let me go, Jack Sparrow!” she hissed, trying to shake him off.
“Not likely,” he retorted, maneuvering her quickly backwards, toward the bed. “You and I need to talk.”
And then she gave a small yelp as she fell, and Jack fell too, right atop her, settling himself strategically to subdue her. Quite furious at being thus manhandled, she struggled fiercely, but he’d apparently done this sort of thing before and easily foiled her efforts. She stiffened and hissed at him again: “How dare you! If you don’t let me up at once I shall scream!”
“Will you, though?” he asked, looking down his nose at her.
She stared up at him.
They were both breathing hard, and he was a heavy weight upon her, his scent in her nostrils, his beautiful, shadowed face quite solemn as he watched her. She began to tremble, and her voice trembled too as she spoke: “What do you mean you sent word?”
“I sent a letter more than a fortnight ago, before we sailed for Bristol.”
“Bristol? The Pearl is in Bristol?”
“Aye. Didn’t think I’d make it here by Christmas, the way the wind held against us, but I knew I’d sent that letter and that all would be right and tight.”
“It… wasn’t.”
“I gathered as much.”
Tears stung, she was on the verge of weeping. “Let me up.”
“Ha! So you can go at me with that slipper again? I think not.”
She bit her lip. “I won’t hit you-“
“Too right you won’t. I get enough of that from Ana, thank you kindly.”
She gave a watery gasp of laughter. “Jack, we have to talk.”
“Aye, we can talk just fine like this. You thought I was gone for good, didn’t you?”
He wasn’t smiling, not at all, and there was something in his voice…
“Yes,” she whispered. “Because of… of….”
“Our child that was lost?”
Our child. Her eyes filled with tears at the stark truth, the wound still raw, but now… shared. “Oh, Jack.”
He rolled to lie beside her then, and pulled her into his arms.
*
There were tears glistening on his cheek, though perhaps they were hers, it was difficult to tell. But she wiped them away with her fingers anyway and asked him, “Would you have married me? “
“Aye. Would you’ve had me?”
She smiled, uncertainty at an end. “Yes.”
He smiled, too, stroking her hair, his rough fingers catching in the strands, just as they’d done most nights for many months. “So you’re not set on tying the knot with that dead bore Allyn, then?”
“He’s not a bore!”
“ ‘Course he is. Now, listen, love, I’ve been thinking. Had a lot of time to think, actually, these last two weeks, with the bloody wind fighting us the whole way to Bristol. It ain’t an easy run at the best of times, but Lord, you wouldn’t credit the storms-“
“Oh, dear,” she said, interrupting. “But Jack, what were you thinking?”
He seemed to hesitate, then said, “Was thinking how I didn’t want to lose you, love. Not for any treasure you or I could name. And that… well, it would’ve been interesting. You and me, and… and the little one.”
“Interesting, indeed,” she murmured, and kissed him. Then looked at him straightly. “It could still happen, you know.”
“I know!” Jack’s eyes widened a bit at the thought. “You game, love? Are you willing to throw in your lot with an old pirate?”
“Captain Jack Sparrow, King’s privateer and my best friend in the world? I’m willing to take the risk.”
“If it chances.”
“If it chances,” she echoed.
He kissed her. “A truly piratical vow, I warrant. Though I expect your da would prefer we settle things before offspring are in the offing.”
She gave a moue of displeasure and said, “I have it in mind that when we marry it shall be with all due ceremony at St. George’s in Port Royal.”
“There’s a thought. Your father can give you away, and Norrington can do the same for me.”
She giggled.
And the bedroom door opened.
Elizabeth whispered, “The maid!”
Jack nodded and lay very still.
To no avail, however. The girl exclaimed, “Lawks!” and scurried across to close the window, which, in the heat of the moment, Jack had failed to completely secure upon entering. But the maid glanced at the bed as she passed, froze in startled horror, then shrieked.
2 ~
It was the work of seconds to stifle the little maid, but the damage had been done and within a minute Aunt Minerva was bustling in, tying her wrapper, her cap askew.
“What is the meaning of this?” she exclaimed on seeing Jack sitting on the edge of the bed.
He rose and bowed. “Good morning, ma’am.”
“I’ll good morning you, you scoundrel!” Aunt Minerva scolded. “How dare you insinuate yourself here, you… you… pirate!”
Jack turned to Elizabeth, looking hurt. “You told!”
“She’s known for years, Jack. I used to read blood curdling pamphlets in this very house, all about your youthful escapades.”
“Oh,” Jack said, not quite subduing a smirk.
Elizabeth grinned, then said quickly to her outraged relative. “Aunt Minerva, please! Jack is here with my blessing. I beg you will refrain from hysterics, or notifying the authorities.”
Aunt Minerva’s bosom was heaving, but she pressed her lips together briefly, then addressed the maid and her housekeeper and footman, both of whom had just entered. “Very well, Mrs. Morris, Annabelle, James: I want no gossip, do you hear? And I want breakfast on the table in one hour.” She watched the three servants leave the room, closed the door behind them herself, and turned back to Elizabeth and Jack. “Now. Explain.”
3 ~
A magnificent Christmas breakfast was served in the grand manner somewhat over an hour later. The errant captain had tidied himself, but the ladies were still in their night clothes and wrappers, for there were no other guests, and, as Minerva observed, “if one cannot dress as one pleases in one’s own home on Christmas morning the world is coming to something, that’s all.”
The world was coming to something in any case. Clandestine and utterly romantic love affairs, vital words left unsaid until the very nick of time, promises made, to be kept anon. Minerva sipped her coffee and peered at Jack and Elizabeth thoughtfully. Two peas in a pod, the captain had shrugged when the tale had been concluded, and Minerva feared he was right. Elizabeth was a sad rake-and the dearest creature. How she would be missed.
“You mean to leave as soon as tomorrow, then?” Minerva asked, a little wistfully.
Elizabeth nodded. “We’ll come to visit again, I promise. But… we need to go home.”
Minerva shook her head. “I would like to be a fly on the wall when you tell your father what you’ve just been telling me,” she said, her voice predicting no happy outcome.
But Elizabeth took Jack’s hand across the table. “He’ll understand. He knows Jack.”
“And he knows you,” the captain retorted, with a teasing smile.
Two peas in a pod.
4 ~
It poured buckets the following day, but Elizabeth didn’t mind in the least. Home. She was going home.
The kitten was in a snug basket, and Elizabeth and Jack sat close in a nest of soft blankets and furs, swaying as the coach bowled along the muddy but well-kept road to Bristol, to the great harbor with its many ships, where the Black Pearl waited.
Home.
The Pearl brooded in the rain, anchored fore and aft in the harbor, and Elizabeth’s thoughts went out to the ship as they were rowed across to board. I’m home, dear, for better or worse! And richer and poorer, in sickness and in health…
She was lifted up up up in a bosun’s chair, since she was wearing one of her gowns as well as a heavy boat cloak, and carrying the kitten’s basket. The moment her feet touched the deck, Gibbs and Anamaria were there to hustle her out of the rain and into the door of the Great Cabin, under the shelter of the quarterdeck.
“Here we are, darling,” she said, letting the kitten out to cautiously explore her new surroundings. Elizabeth shed her sodden cloak and looked about as well.
The drapes were open, the gallery windows letting in the scant afternoon light of this rainy day, and a hanging brazier added a warm glow. The big carved table was laden with a feast - cold meats, fruit, bread and pastries, wine - and many candles, rather as it had been that first time she’d seen it, in Barbossa’s company. But so many things had changed since that time, the cabin was far cleaner, and everywhere there was evidence of Jack. His favorite weapons and mementos gave it an exotic, splendid air, and his many books, charts, and navigational instruments told of the quick and curious mind that worked behind the handsome face. And, half hidden by a beautifully painted Chinese screen, was his bed. Their bed. The bed in which she’d found such bliss. The bed in which she’d conceived.
And might again, someday.
The door behind her opened and she turned to find Jack coming in, dripping profusely and smiling. He closed the door, and she watched as he took off his hat and rain gear, and then he came to her, damp as he was, and took her in his arms.
“Welcome home, love,” he said and kissed her.
Home.
~.~