The Further Adventures of Mrs. Elizabeth Turner, Part 2
And we're back!
The euphoria Elizabeth felt on discovering she was pregnant lasted for about a day. In the night, more confused feelings set in. The truth was, she was afraid-- when she let herself dwell on it, she was terrified. Women died in childbirth every day. Her mother had died giving birth to her. Something could so very easily go wrong. She might never see Will again. What would happen to her baby, and Will's, if she were to die? How would she keep from losing her mind, if the baby died and she didn't? And then, if neither of them died, she would have a baby. By herself. She would have to raise her child alone, without Will. Somewhere beyond where she could travel, Will was captaining the Flying Dutchman; Will didn't even know that she was going to have his child.
And so Elizabeth unpacked every single book she had brought with her from her Father's house-- books of his and books she had read as a child. Many of them contained myths and legends and nautical adventure stories. She began to read them, cover to cover, one by one. Searching for a loophole, for a way to break the curse-- to bring Will back sooner, and for good.
Meanwhile, from the day after her arrival, Elizabeth had been receiving and repaying calls. When people asked her about herself, she mostly told lies. Elizabeth was good at telling lies. She said that her father had died not long ago and left her everything but the house, which was entailed to a cousin. She said she had eloped two months ago because the man she loved was being sent to sea-- to the East Indies, in fact, and neither of them knew how long it would be before he returned; that she had been evicted from the house she had been sharing with the cousin because he did not approve of her choice and, her husband having no family in the West Indies, she had been forced to set sail in the junk her husband had brought with him from a previous East Indian trip and find a home for herself.
The neighborhood's opinions of her were mixed. The sailors' wives, a few of whom were also alone, generally liked her, and she liked them, but her recent experiences placed a sort of distance between her life and their more mundane ones. There weren't many fine ladies in the village, but those who were there thought she was strange. She had sailed, practically by herself; she had an East Indian boat; she had rented a cottage by herself and was living by her own means; she was still very tan; she was sometimes seen walking around in strange garments with breeches; and her story seemed like something out of a novel. Yet she was well-mannered, and apparently very well-bred. Their temporary approval was earned when they discovered that she was with child; that was real, it made her story a little more likely, and it rendered her worthy of sympathy. They would sit with her sometimes and give her advice she didn't want and tell her horrifying childbirth stories. Elizabeth didn't like them, and did not try to impress them. She hated it when they came, and was glad when they were gone. Sometimes she would hide upstairs and be "too unwell" to receive them. Other times, when she was particularly bored, she would sit with them and throw out insults that went over their heads.
Elizabeth was bored a very great deal of the time. She had never been so bored in her life. Everyone she had known and cared for was either dead or at sea. She wanted to be at sea, too, she had grown used to action, she wanted to be doing something. But she could not. She could not go too far, or do too much, because of the baby. Under normal circumstances, Elizabeth would have hated pregnancy entirely. There were times when, had Will been there, she would have slapped him across the face for doing this to her. But Will was not there, and this changed things. The baby was her entire hope, it was a part of Will that was still with her, it was someone to love. It was a miracle. So she tried to teach herself patience, and she waited for the baby.
Estrella had come, and provided her best company, and she had hired an old woman wanting to retire from her landlord's staff to cook more simple meals for her. During the day she walked by herself in the surf and she sailed a little. She thought a good deal, about Will and Jack and James and her father, and everything she had done. She then turned back to activity to drive away the more troubling thoughts about her mother's death and the curse of the Flying Dutchman. She was constantly having to let out her gowns, and make baby clothes when that was done. At night she read the books. And still, every day, the thought: Five months, the longest I've ever gone without seeing Will.
When the baby started kicking, she was elated. It was a feeling that made loneliness impossible. At night, she would whisper little things to the baby. It was around this time that she stopped being able to dress like a boy, or in her clothes from Singapore. She wore the let-out gowns, and absolutely refused to corset herself, even when the village ladies said she should, to keep the baby smaller. She continued to take her walks and go out in her boat.
It was in her fifth month that, happening to be in the neighborhood, so to speak, Mr. Gibbs came back. He was startled, to say the least, to find himself tightly embraced, the minute Estrella let him inside, by a woman in a delicate condition. Probably it was bad luck, but he wasn't about to say it. Elizabeth eagerly asked him for news of everyone and a detailed account of what he'd been doing, and she listened hungrily to every word. He stayed about a week, walking with Elizabeth in the day and telling stories every night. She asked him particularly for every detail he knew about the Dutchman; he knew what she was trying to do, and regretfully told her that he had nothing that would help. She admitted that she'd asked all of the local sailors' wives one day (not giving the reason for her inquiry, of course), and they hadn't known anything useful, either. When he went away she made him promise to write to her.
She had just reached her sixth month when, late one night, in the middle of a storm, a heavy knock sounded at the door. George wanted to open it, but she pushed him back and made for the door herself, pistol drawn (she no longer trusted her center of balance with a cutlass). And so it was that Boostrap Bill was surprised to be greeted by a pregnant woman pointing a pistol at his face. And Elizabeth was equally surprised to see him there. She threw her arms around him, brought him inside, and instantly began asking questions. Bootstrap explained that Will had decided to send him ashore for a day to see her and make sure she was all right. When Elizabeth asked if he was allowed to do that under the rules of the curse, Bootstrap shrugged and replied, "He cheated." Elizabeth smiled: "He's a pirate." And Boostrap, looking her over, stated that it was a good thing he was, and handed her a letter.
Will had written her a letter. She read it through twice on the spot, and immediately began to write back. She told Will how she had returned to Port Royal and looted her own house and commandeered three boats, only to become a legitimate tenant. Then she told him about the baby. She didn't once mention wanting to slap him across the face. She told him that if it was a boy she was going to name it after him: "I know you will object to another William Turner, and say I should name him after someone else, perhaps my father, but then I will remind you that my father's name was Weatherby, and there's an end of that." Boostrap Bill left the next day, taking her letter, promising he would return.
Now in the morning, Elizabeth thought, Seven months, the longest I've ever gone without seeing Will. Two months until the baby comes.
And because it's 12:45, To Be Continued Again.