BPS Secret Santa: "The Christmas Stranger" (6/6), For GeekMama
A/N: Here, at long last (and with sincerest apologies to GeekMama for keeping her waiting nearly until this Christmas for the end of last year's Christmas story), is the final chapter of my 2009 holiday fic, "The Christmas Stranger." My unending thanks to GeekMama for her infinite patience, and I can only say that I hope that the conclusion is worth the wait.
Title: "The Christmas Stranger" (6/6)
Author: luvvycat
Written for: geekmama
Characters/Pairing: Young Will Turner/Young Elizabeth Swann
Rating: PG
Warnings: Some doxy suggestiveness in Part 2; minor violence in Parts 2 and 3; salty language in Part 4; minor suggestive themes throughout.
Disclaimer: PotC is Disney's, not mine (darn it!)
Author's Notes: In response to GeekMama's request "J/E (etc. ?) at Christmas; or young Jack, or young Will/Elizabeth at Christmas." Not beta'ed (as my recipient IS my beta, and I didn't want to spoil the surprise!), so any errors are entirely my own.
For the second time that night, Will found himself skulking in the foliage beneath Elizabeth's window, anxiously waiting for the light to come up in her room.
He let his mind wander back a few hours, to when they’d first returned to the house…
* * * * *
Lieutenant Norrington briskly escorted them into the reception hall of the Governor’s mansion, deserted now save for the tousle-haired manservant who had responded to the Lieutenant's knock, and a bevy of housemaids who flitted here and there like silent shadows, toiling deep into the night to make the house impeccable for yet more Yuletide festivities on the morrow. The doors to both front parlours, the dining room, and the library were still thrown wide open, as they had been earlier to accommodate the flow of holiday guests, though the terrace doors that had previously stood open were now shut against the cooling Caribbean night.
Darting a quick, furtive look at Norrington's back, Elizabeth said, in the polite, impersonal voice she customarily used with the other household staff, but never had with him, “Thank you, Will. You’ve been a tremendous help. You may go now…”
“Not so fast!” the commanding voice, backed up by an imperious green-eyed gaze, froze the pair in their tracks. “I’m sure the Governor will insist on a full accounting-from both of you-regarding your whereabouts and activities tonight.”
As he turned back to the manservant, requesting that he advise the Governor that Lieutenant Norrington was respectfully seeking immediate audience, Will felt a touch upon his hand, and turned to see Elizabeth regarding him with wide, tragic eyes, face a study in dismay. “I’m so sorry, Will, for drawing you into this," she whispered so Norrington wouldn't hear. "It’s all my fault.”
Taking her hand, he squeezed it and tried to smile encouragement, though his own guts were twisted into knots at the prospect of having to face Governor Swann. "I'm as much to blame as you are. After all, I was a willing participant. In fact…" he murmured, his voice warming at the memory of her, earlier, in his arms, "I wouldn't have missed it, for the world!"
* * * * *
Clearly roused from a bed to which he had only just retired, the Governor-bleary-eyed, bereft of wig, and tying a heavy brocade dressing-gown around his fine silk nightshirt-received them in the private sitting room adjacent to his bedchambers.
"Lieutenant?" Weatherby said, in a voice tinged with confusion and thinly-veiled annoyance. "I trust you have a very good reason for disturbing my rest at this ungodly hour…"
"My apologies, Governor, but the matter is of some importance, and involves a subject near and dear to your heart. You see, as I was making my way home tonight, I found in the road something of great value which belongs to you, and thought you might appreciate the safe and expeditious return of same."
He turned and beckoned to Will and Elizabeth, who exchanged one last look of trepidation before reluctantly stepping into the room.
The door shut behind them, ensuring privacy from the household's prying eyes and curious ears. As Weatherby's gaze took in the dishevelled pair standing before him-their hair loose and mussed, shoes and clothing smirched with mud and road dust-the scales of sleep fell with an almost audible clatter from his eyes, which widened in alarm as they touched upon the red-stained bandage on Will's hand … the slash and traces of blood on his daughter's cape and skirts.
"Elizabeth! Dear god!" he exclaimed, voice rising an octave in distress. "Would somebody please tell me what the devil is going on?!"
* * * * *
While Lieutenant Norrington related his part of the tale-how he had found the two children in their present state, alone and unchaperoned by the side of the road, their only offered explanation being that they had been returning from an errand of charity in town-Swann became increasingly agitated, until he seemed on the verge of an apoplectic attack.
As Norrington's narrative concluded, Weatherby turned a red-flushed face to his daughter. "Elizabeth… what have you to say for yourself?" His forbidding gaze took in Will as well, who had been standing motionless, doffed tricorne held respectfully in hand, since entering the Governor's presence. "And you, Master Turner! What in heaven’s name possessed you to remove my daughter from this house, in the dead of night, without my knowledge or permission?"
Will’s first instinct was to protect Elizabeth-to throw himself upon his proverbial sword, take the entirety of the blame, and face the consequences for the both of them. However, he had barely opened his mouth when he felt a sharp kick to his foot, delivered from beneath the concealment of skirts and cloak as Elizabeth quickly interjected, beating him to the draw:
"Father, I want you to know that Will had absolutely nothing to do with this. The idea was entirely mine, and he only accompanied me because I asked him to do so." Weatherby eyed Will dubiously, clearly not convinced of his innocence. "In any case, when he saw that I was determined to carry on, with or without his escort, he reluctantly agreed to go, solely out of concern for my safety."
Governor Swann harrumphed and directed a look equal parts suspicion and ire at Will. "If the boy was so concerned for your safety, Elizabeth, then he should have come directly to me. Rest assured, I would have dissuaded you from whatever foolishness you intended to engage in."
"But, Father," Elizabeth continued, "I also consider Will to be my friend, and I his, and friends do not betray one another's confidence and trust, under any circumstances. You taught me that, when I was hardly higher than your knee…" She stepped forward and laid a hand upon the sleeve of her father's dressing-gown, smiling gently. "Recall, Father, a year ago, on the Dauntless, you entrusted Will's care to me? Well, tonight, he returned the favour, looking after me, offering his protection when I might have gone alone, without a care for my own well-being. Had he not accompanied me, I might have come to harm."
"And the tears in your clothing? The bloody bandage on his hand? What am I to make of that?"
"My own clumsiness, I'm afraid. My skirts became snagged on some brambles, and Will suffered a deep scratch on his hand freeing me. It's his blood on my cape and skirts. A stupid accident, I know, and completely my fault, but Will was the only one to sustain injury. He was escorting me back home, when Lieutenant Norrington came upon us…"
"I see." Weatherby's attention shifted back to Will. "Is this true, Master Turner?"
"I-" He felt another sharp kick to his foot. "Yes, sir. It is."
"Please, Father…" Elizabeth clutched at her father's sleeve again. "Will is not to blame for my own poor judgment. In fact, he tried to talk me out of going. I would never forgive myself if he were punished simply for minding his place, and obeying my orders as Governor's daughter as well as de facto lady of the house."
As the Governor gazed down into his daughter's pleading face, there was a subtle change to his expression, a softening in the lines around his eyes and mouth, but only for a moment before it returned to stony resolve. "Yes, well … in any case, someone must be held accountable for your misbehaviour. And, as you have apparently exonerated William by taking sole blame, it appears you will have to assume the sole burden of punishment as well."
"Yes, Father," Elizabeth said, sounding sufficiently chastened, but darting a quick, unhappy
glance at Will.
"As for you, young man…" Swann transfixed Will with a stern look, "as fond as I, and my daughter, are of you, if you ever do anything like this again, I promise you, the penalty shall be severe, indeed! Do I make myself clear, Master Turner?"
"Y-yes, perfectly," Will stammered.
"Good. Now, if you and the Lieutenant would kindly leave us," he levelled an ominous gaze at Elizabeth, his tone equally formidable, "I must attend to the matter of my disobedient daughter."
As Will made a small bow of obeisance and turned to leave the room, he heard Norrington say, "Governor, if you please … before I go, might I have a word…?"
The last glimpse Will caught of Elizabeth before the door was shut in his face was her, standing before her elders like a prisoner at the dock, the picture of contrite demureness, eyes downcast, hands folded docilely before her even while the stubborn set of her jaw bespoke an innate defiance of their authority over her.
Once banished to the hall, Will hovered anxiously at the door, ear pressed to the crack, trying to hear what was transpiring within, but could make out little beside the muffled sound of voices, occasionally raised but not enough for him to discern exactly what was being said.
After a few minutes, the door suddenly swung open, and Lieutenant Norrington emerged, catching Will by surprise. Pinning him with a disapproving glare as he closed the door, firmly and pointedly, behind him, he said, brusquely, "I would advise you, Master Turner, not to compound your complicity in tonight's events by attempting to eavesdrop on a private conversation."
"But … Elizabeth?" Will started, worry making him forget the rules of propriety that prevented him-a mere servant-referring to her by her Christian name. "What's to become of her?"
"The fate of Miss Swann," the Lieutenant emphasised curtly, tacitly rebuking Will for his egregious breach of etiquette, "is a matter to be settled between she and her father. It is no concern of yours."
Will bridled. He'd had quite enough this night of being dismissed, disregarded, and made to feel like a non-entity in Elizabeth's life by older men. "Can I help it if I care what happens to her?" he bit out fervently, just a hair's-breadth shy of impudence.
The Lieutenant's eyes sharpened and then slitted as he studied Will, as though he were truly seeing him for the first time-a look strangely reminiscent of the one Captain Smith had given him, earlier, while debating his worth as an escort to "Bess." After a moment of scrutinising Will's face, apparently seeing something there that convinced him of the boy's earnestness, Norrington gave a nearly imperceptible nod, and his severe mien relaxed somewhat. "No more or less than I do, I assure you," he answered in a more moderate timbre. "A remarkable young lady, Miss Swann … possessed of a great heart as well as many other fine qualities, though her youthful impulsiveness clearly tends to cloud her better judgment-a common failing of the young, I'm afraid," he said dryly, making it obvious that he included Will in that assessment as well.
"Now, might I recommend that you remove yourself from the hallway to the long-forsaken haven of your own bed? I'd wager both you and Miss Swann have had quite an…" his gaze flicked to Will's bandaged hand, "… eventful night." He started to turn away, then hesitated. "Oh… and before you go to your slumber, you might have someone see to that first," he nodded to the bloodied serviette. "Wouldn't want infection to set in, now would we?"
Will's eyes rested on the spot on the linen where he could swear he could still see the impression of lip-prints, and smiled to himself. "No need to worry, sir. It's already been taken care of."
"If you say so," Norrington said, with a trace of scepticism. As Will passed the Lieutenant, the cool voice followed after him, "And do try to stay out of trouble henceforth, Master Turner. I trust you don't want to give the Governor any additional cause to discharge you from his service?"
Will paused at the top of the staircase, but didn't turn around. "No, sir."
Footsteps approached, and then Norrington's voice came again, lower. "You do know, don't you, that you owe that young lady a debt of gratitude for what she just did in there, not to mention to her father for giving you a position in this household in the first place, when he could easily have had you shipped back to England a year ago and placed in the care of an orphanage."
Will spun and faced the Lieutenant, earth-brown eyes meeting, holding cool sea-green. "Believe me, I am fully aware of exactly how much I owe Miss Swann," he said, with feeling, "As well as you, the Governor, and the entire crew of the Dauntless. If not for you all, I might be mouldering at the bottom of the sea right now with those other poor souls from the Sally Mae, instead of celebrating another Christmas, alive and well, and well taken care of by generous and caring people like the Swanns." Norrington opened his mouth as though to interject, but Will hastened on, determined to finish before he lost his nerve. "Also believe that it's a debt I do not take lightly, nor will ever stop trying to repay-by dedicating my life to the eradication of those who brought about such wanton destruction and senseless slaughter, as well as devoting myself to do whatever necessary to ensure the happiness and well-being of she whom I consider to be my saviour."
Again that measuring look, punctuated by a small nod of the Lieutenant's bewigged head. "Lofty goals, to be sure, young man. One only hopes you get a chance to achieve them." Then he straightened, the military bearing returning as he drew himself to full height, clasping his hands behind his back, nose lifting into the air, calling to mind Elizabeth’s impertinent impersonation of this very man, which had been such cause for amusement at the beginning of the evening. "That's all. You may go!"
Will touched the brim of his tricorne respectfully and turned away.
"Oh … and one last thing, Master Turner," the patrician voice sounded like a whipcrack behind him in the almost unnatural silence that now blanketed the house like a winter snow.
Will stopped in his tracks, spine stiffening. What now?
A pregnant pause, as the tension in the air grew to nearly unbearable levels, before Norrington's voice came again, more kindly:
"Happy Christmas."
Will relaxed, releasing a breath he hadn't even been aware of holding and, with a small, relieved smile, responded, softly, "And a Happy Christmas to you, sir."
He imagined he could feel the keen eyes watching him from the landing as he descended the stairs and crossed the tiled floor of the now-deserted (and spotlessly clean) entry hall, heading in the general direction of the servants' quarters. He knew, though, that bed would have to wait at least a little while longer this night. He could not go easily to his rest, without first knowing what Elizabeth's fate would be.
Lost in thoughts of Elizabeth, it escaped his notice that, as opposed to the arrangement earlier, the terrace doors were now open, and the library doors shut…
* * * * *
He came out of his reverie at the sound of his name being called.
"Pssst! Will!" a voice hissed down to him. "Are you down there?"
He looked up to see Elizabeth leaning out her window, candle in hand, its flickering flame casting her features into a thoroughly enchanting, shifting patchwork of shadow and light. Earlier, she had likened her mother to a Christmas angel, descended from Heaven. Seeing that grand lady’s only child now-limned by silver moonlight, kissed by golden candleglow-he could almost believe similar seraphic origins for the daughter.
He was suddenly reminded of a passage Elizabeth had once read him from one of the volumes of Shakespeare in her father’s library, about a lady standing on her balcony, whilst a young man wooed her from the garden below. At the time, it had sounded like naught but overly-romantic twaddle to him; men, after all, didn’t really speak in flowery verse, did they? Now, though, looking up at a shimmering Elizabeth, he thought he was beginning to understand how a man might be moved to poetry…
He stepped out of the shrubs, his heart in his throat so that it took a moment for him to speak. "Yes … I'm here."
She beckoned with a gesture of her dainty hand. "Come on up!"
He scrambled as silently as he could up the trellis, and she stepped back to allow him to clamber over the sill, this time, thankfully, with nary a stumble.
One glance at her flushed face, her overly-bright eyes a-glimmer with what looked like the remains of tears, made something in his chest tighten. "What happened? Are you all right?"
"Yes … nothing more than a severe dressing-down and an extended paternal lecture on the hazards that befall wilful young ladies who wander off at night without their fathers knowing."
Will was surprised, and relieved. "That's it?"
She glanced up at him, sharply. "Why? Were you hoping for a more stringent sentence for my infraction?" she asked, sardonically.
"N-No…" he stammered with a nervous laugh, and hastened to explain, "I was just afraid that, in his anger, your father's punishment might have taken a more … physical form."
Elizabeth gave a gentle smile and shook her head, her hair falling forward to sweep against her cheeks as she looked down at the carpeted floor. "Oh, no. Father's never, ever raised a hand to me, though there have been times, like this, when I've seriously tested the limits of his patience!" She sighed, and her smile vanished. "Sometimes, though, I think I would much rather have the slap, than to suffer the sting of his disapproval and disappointment."
"I really do wish you had let me take the blame…"
Her eyes snapped back up to his face. "And have Father cast you-my only friend-out into the street? Better that I suffer a whipping, than that! Besides, what I told him was no more or less than the full truth. The whole misadventure was entirely my fault, and I could hardly let you accept punishment for that."
"Not entirely your fault," he countered, even as her words warmed him with the knowledge that her regard for him went that deeply.
"In any case, he was bound to be more lenient with me than with you. I'm his daughter, after all. He could hardly banish me from my own home!" Her expression saddened again. "Though it does pain me to think I've been less than a perfect daughter to him. In my single-minded desire to do this thing, I never once spared a thought for how devastated Father would be, if I were hurt... or worse! I was concerned only with the consequences I would suffer, were I caught out! It was thoughtless, and selfish. He deserves so much better than me."
"Nonsense," Will said, kindly. "I'm sure he'd be the first to disagree. One can see, quite plainly, that he loves you, very much. How can he help it, after all? You are…"
Beautiful. Wonderful. Perfect.
Her eyes rose to meet his as he paused. "I am … what?" she queried, head tilted slightly, like a curious cat's.
He shrugged, thankful for the fickle nature of candlelight that served to hide the blushes he felt heating his face. "You are … who you are: his daughter. And, despite everything that's happened, I'm sure your father considers himself quite lucky to have you." He was rewarded as the corner of her mouth twitched into a little smile at his words. "But … tell me. How were you able to persuade your father to clemency? He didn't seem inclined to mercy when he dismissed the Lieutenant and me."
"Oh, he wasn't! I was certain I was in for a harsh reckoning!" Her face grew reflective, with a touch of puzzlement. "Oddly enough, given his vaunted devotion to rules and regulations, it was Lieutenant Norrington who interceded on my behalf. He advised Father to take into consideration, before determining my fate, the reason for my breaking his curfew, which was to perform a selfless act of charity. And, as it is Christmas, and my intentions were pure, if misguided, ones, perhaps forgiveness rather than reprisal was the order of the day, as well as the Christian thing to do on this anniversary of Our Lord's birth.
"Once Father calmed down, we had a nice, long talk. He asked for, and I gave him, a full accounting of what we did tonight, from start to finish-" At Will's look of alarm, she hastened to explain, "-judiciously edited, of course, to omit certain incidents and … rather eccentric acquaintances that I thought it best he not know about. Since all turned out well in the end, I didn't see the point of needlessly burdening him with details that he would, no doubt, find extremely distressing."
"And he believed you?"
"For the most part. Father's not a fool, you know, so I'm sure he suspects I wasn't telling him the complete story. I do, however, find myself in a bit of a quandary," she said, a worried frown falling across her face. "Father noticed I was no longer wearing Mother's necklace, and I just didn't have the heart to tell him that I gave it away… to a virtual stranger, no less! So…" She bit her lip, which, Will knew, she frequently did when prevaricating. "I lied, and told him that the necklace was safe, up here in my room. But he's expecting me to return it to him in the morning, so he can lock it back up with the rest of Mother's jewels." She grimaced. "In my eagerness to make my gift to poor Captain Smith, I completely forgot that Father also has strong sentimental attachments to Mother's things-and, most especially, that necklace." She bit her lip again. "You see, she was wearing it when she married Father, so it was bound to be missed by him…"
"Oh, Elizabeth! What are you going to do when morning comes, and you fail to produce the necklace?"
She wrung her hands. "I don't know! As long as I was telling falsehoods, I should have just claimed that I lost it. He'd still be angry and disappointed in me, but better that he think it gone through an act of carelessness than of will." She balled her fist, bringing it down, sharply, against the palm of her other hand. "I could, truly, kick myself for not devising a better excuse!"
Will couldn't help smiling. "Being a poor liar is nothing to be ashamed of, Elizabeth. I hardly think it's a talent any honest person would care to cultivate, let alone take pride in."
She returned his smile, ruefully. "Yes, well … I'm beginning to appreciate the pitfalls of engaging in the practice. I suppose one should learn to do it well, or avoid it altogether!"
"I vote for the latter. As my mother was accustomed to saying, no good ever comes of telling lies … or keeping secrets."
Elizabeth winced, her eyes seeming to dwell for a moment on the top drawer of her dressing-table before turning on him with a somewhat guilty expression. Then she brightened. "Oh … but there is a silver lining to this whole ghastly affair-"
While they'd been gone, the fire in the grate had burned down to little more than embers, providing only a weak illumination. As Elizabeth bent to touch her candle-flame to the wick of the little lamp on her bedside table, something flashed creamy-white in the circle of candlelight cast upon its dark wood surface.
"What's this?" she exclaimed. Her brow furrowed prettily as she turned the lamp up to reveal two folded sheets of paper laying upon the bed-stand. She bent to examine them more closely. "They appear to be letters: one for you, and one for me!"
As she held them up, he could see that was exactly what they were: upon one was scrawled in elegant but rather spidery script the name "Bess", the other addressed to "Walter."
Elizabeth handed Will the one that bore his pseudonym, along with her candle so he could read it, while she unfolded and began to scan the other, her glance going immediately to the bottom of the letter. Her eyebrows flew up. "As I suspected! They're from Captain Smith! But… how did they get here? And when did he have a chance to write these? We were with him practically the entire time, up until he took leave of us."
"Perhaps that's why he was gone so long at the tavern…" Will posited.
"No … look, the ink's still rather fresh," she smudged it with her forefinger, then held it up, her fingertip coming away black. "These had to have been written within the past hour!" Narrowing her eyes, she held the paper up so that it was backlit by the lamp. "And see here … this watermark? This is my father's stationery! I'd know it anywhere!"
She looked up, and their eyes met, filling with apprehension, as they came to the same conclusion at the same time: Captain Smith had been here, under this very roof-in this very room, in fact-quite recently … had written and delivered these letters himself!
Will unfolded his, and began to read:
Walter the Stalwart (Daring Defender of fair Damsels in Distress):
It was a pleasure making your acquaintance tonight (though one might wish the circumstances had been rather different, and decidedly less dire). I can see that you're a winning lad, with a no doubt bright future (should you survive your stripling years), but for a boy your age, on the cusp of manhood, to be yet so green as to the ways of the world, does not bode well for your living long enough to attain, let alone enjoy the fruits of, said manhood. Suffice to say that I have learned, through hard experience, that many qualities others regard as virtues are, though admirable attributes, not particularly conducive to personal happiness, continued well-being, or long life. Rules, as it were (like Laws and Commandments), are seldom hard and fast, and are frequently broken, so a bit of creative interpretation needs to be applied. Indeed, one of the greatest joys of life is in the finding of the loopholes, and slipping through them...
If I may be so bold as to foist some additional unsolicited counsel upon you, based on me extensive experience of the world and particularly of the female creature: delightful (and, on rather special and quite personally urgent occasions, delightfully useful) as they may be, make no mistake, women are Trouble, and your Bess (despite her tender years) is no exception. Mark me words, unless I misread the signs (and I rarely do), she's like to grow into the kind of beauty what draws men into her orbit only to merrily send them on to early graves. From tonight's events, I can see plain as the (at present, sore and somewhat skewed) nose on me face, that Trouble follows in her wake like an eager pup nipping at her heels. Steer clear of those shoals, mate, if you know what's good for you!
However, if you're inclined to disregard me pearls of wisdom, and decide to stay your course as guardian to your lovely miss (who I am thoroughly convinced is NOT your sister, despite your protestations otherwise), I would advise that you acquire a weapon as soon as possible, and apply yourself diligently to the mastery of it. In any case, proficiency in sword or pistol will stand you in good stead as you go through life, for most men are untrustworthy sods, apt to stab a man in the back, (or, even more painfully, in the front), so it's best to be able to defend said back (or front) as need demands.
Will silently resolved to do just that. He never again wanted to rely on strangers, and Fate's intervention, to keep Elizabeth safe.
He continued reading:
My unbounded gratitude goes to you both for your charity tonight … as well as for (at the very moment I write this) causing such prolonged and effective distraction to enable Yours Truly to put into literal practise that invaluable lesson what the Good Book teaches us: "The Lord helps those who help themselves."
Best Wishes for a long and happy life, bereft of Troubles, Rules, and Pirates…
Yr. Obt. Srvt.,
C.J.S.
P.S. - By the by, Miss Bess was correct in her advice not to judge all pirates too harshly. In truth, I knew a pirate once who was a good man, devoted to his wife and son, and loved them so much that he stood by and let a good mate go to almost certain death, for desperate fear of being parted from them forever. Though the bonds forged by friendship can be strong ones (but must always be suspect: see my above observation re: the nature of man), they are nothing to bonds of blood, olove.
When each had finished reading their own letter, they exchanged curious glances, and then pages, allowing the other to read what they just had.
Will read:
My Sweet "Bess" -
I am returning that which you so generously bestowed upon me tonight. Though you are correct that your treasured trinket would pay handsomely for a ship of humble means-and, no doubt, a meaner, humbler crew-I believe it more rightfully belongs where it would serve an even higher purpose, and where your dear departed mother intended it to be: round your pretty throat, keeping memories of her alive. I am shamed to say it has been many a year since I looked in on me own mum, but I know meself that a mother's love is a precious thing, and tokens of that warm affection are not, nor should be, given away lightly, especially to the likes of me. If it were merely gems and gold you were gifting me, I'd not hesitate to accept them, for I know better than most their worth (at least in your more illegitimate markets) and would be a fool to turn them away, but the wealth of stolen memories that accompany them is too dear a burden for me to assume, and too high a price for a tender-hearted lass like you to pay to redeem such an unworthy beneficiary.
At this point, Elizabeth, reading "Walter's" letter, made a small sound of outrage, and he looked up to see her scowling, a petulant moue upon her rosy lips. "Trouble, am I?" she exclaimed. "The nerve of the man!"
Will only smiled at her outburst, then read on:
Fear not that I will forsake my quest, and your highness' imperious command, to take back what's mine (though my fair lady of the seas was, in the day, a Wicked Wench indeed, she is nevertheless the priceless Pearl of me heart, and I will not rest until she is back where she belongs-beneath her devoted lord's worshipful feet, and under the gentle mastery of his loving hands). Your tales of valorous pirates have inspired me to abandon my current rudderless pursuits and to pull meself up by me Bootstraps. Indeed, you have reminded me of a man I once used to know, and whose acquaintance I haven't made for quite some time-a man I faced each day in me mirror, before he became lost somewhere between the shoals of despair and despondency, and the dregs dwelling in the depths of a bottomless bottle of rum (though, in truth, I find the idea of a bottomless bottle of rum quite a splendid notion, and one I shall no doubt contemplate at great length in days to come).
Your Captain Sparrow sounds to be a very wise, dashing, clever, and strikingly handsome man, and I shall strive to emulate him as best I can. Indeed, I will so fully assimilate him into me own being that one would think he and I are the self-same person.
Mayhap, when that day comes when my sweet lady of the seas and I are reunited, I shall return and take you and your bosom friend Walter for a sail on my beautiful ship. In any case, I shall never forget the kindness, and the gift of hope, you have granted me this Yuletide night. You have made a new man of me-or, rather, resurrected the one I once was.
With fondest felicitations of the season,
Yr. Most Hmbl. & Obt. Srvt.,
C.J.S.
P.S. - The servants may find, upon their next inventory of the household goods, that a few small though rather costly trifles have inexplicably gone missing. My apologies for that, as well as making free of your trust and good graces, but as I'm shipping out immediately, and my return of your much-beloved bauble leaves me in much the same pecuniary straits as when the night began-or mayhap somewhat less, given the loss of a bit of personal gold I suffered somewhere between tavern and pigsty, dislodged by way of a rather vigorous application of a fist to me mouth-I hope you will consider fair exchange the swap of one item of deeply personal sentiment for a sackful of ones considerably less dear to you. Indeed, you may find the décor somewhat improved by the removal of such flagrant and vulgar objects of ostentation. Be comforted that any gains I make from the bartering of such ill-gotten gewgaws will go to an eminently worthy cause, and help in the execution of your command for me to recover me lost ship.
"See!" Will cried, in satisfaction. "I knew he couldn't be trusted! The man's nothing but a common thief!" As he came to the bottom of the page, he frowned and looked up into eyes every bit as confused as he knew his own must be. "But … I don't understand. He didn't return the necklace!"
Elizabeth's eyes sharpened. "Look!" she exclaimed. "There's more … on the back!"
Will turned the letter over, and read aloud:
P.P.S. - If this note makes not a smidgen of sense to you, might I recommend you check the pocket of your cloak…
The cape lay discarded across the foot of the bed, where Elizabeth had flung it upon returning from her Grand Inquisition with her father. She now retrieved it, and dipped her hand into first one pocket, then the other…
Her mouth dropped open, her eyes widening in surprise. Drawing her hand out, she unfurled her fist, where something lay nestled in her open palm, sparking and twinkling in the candlelight.
Her mother's necklace!
Elizabeth, stunned, let the cape fall unheeded to the floor as she sat down heavily on the bed, running a finger disbelievingly across the beloved jewel she clearly never expected to see again. "Oh, Will!" When she looked back up at him, her face was bright, her eyes aglow with happiness. "This is truly a Christmas miracle! God bless Captain Smith!"
Will snorted, not inclined to be as charitably disposed toward the trickster-y Captain. "The man is no saint, Elizabeth! He may have done a generous and honourable thing by returning the necklace to you, but by his own admission," he held up the letter, "he's made off with half the household goods!"
Elizabeth pouted. "You exaggerate, of course. And the Captain is right-we have so much here, I'm sure a few items won't even be missed, or will simply be thought to have been misplaced. It does happen…"
"And what if it is noticed, and some poor, innocent servant is blamed?"
Elizabeth dismissed his concerns with a blithe wave of her hand. "If and when that occurs, I'm sure I'll think of something. Besides, from the servants' talk, some members of Port Royal society-most of whom attended Father's ball tonight-are notoriously light-fingered! I hear that Mrs Abernathy can't be trusted around anyone's best silver! But, as nobody wants to be the one to bring scandal and disgrace to a member of one of the most prominent families in Port Royal, the pilfering goes ignored, and the whole matter gets swept under the carpet.”
Of course, Will had heard such things in the servants' quarters himself, but hardly thought that Elizabeth would concern herself with idle talk! He supposed that new maid, Estrella, who, at sixteen, was only a few years older than Elizabeth, had been the one to tell her, as she appeared to revel in the spreading of gossip. But he had thought Elizabeth above such tawdry pursuits.
Then again, how could he find any fault with her, when her angel's face was awash with delight, her mother's necklace safely returned, and a reckoning with her father avoided? After all, he himself had been no exemplar of honesty or integrity tonight: he'd been prepared to lie through his teeth to her father and Norrington to save her from censure, not to mention all the other little white lies he'd told that night to Captain Smith to mask their true identities, so he was hardly in a position to pass judgment!
(Of course, those untruths may have all been for naught if the Captain had followed them and discovered whose house this was, and by inference who-and what-"Bess" must be.)
"In any case," Elizabeth added with a sigh, reclaiming both letters, "I doubt we'll ever see Captain John Smith again. He's likely setting sail even as we speak, so it's quite pointless to tell Father now." She stepped over to the fireplace, and tossed the letters onto the grate, watching as the embers sprang back into fiery life, and the letters were quickly consumed by the crackling flames.
Will frowned, suddenly overcome with misery, seeing his own opportunities to be with Elizabeth turning to ash just like the letters in the fireplace. "Nor, I suppose, will your Father ever permit me to spend time with you again, after tonight. In fact, I half expect him to send me away from here..."
“Oh … but that’s what I've been trying to tell you! You see, I explained to Father about our 'errand of mercy' and where I had gotten the idea for it. I told him you had been my source of inspiration!"
Will groaned inwardly. If there had been any chance at all of the Governor letting him stay, those hopes were now all but quashed. No father worth his salt would allow someone who had proven to be such a bad influence on his daughter to remain employed in his household!
"I really wish you hadn't done that…" Will started, his heart heading for his boots, already anticipating, and dreading, the good-byes to come.
"No… listen! I told him all about you and your mother, and how you'd share your holiday feast every year with someone less fortunate… and Father thought it a simply marvellous idea!-though he did wish that we had come to him in the first place with it, rather than attempt such an enterprise on our own.
"And that brings me to the most wonderful news!" She looked ready to explode, her grin stretching so impossibly wide. "Will … he wants to include your mother’s tradition of the Christmas Stranger in Port Royal’s annual holiday festivities, starting immediately! Even as we speak, he’s sending notes round to all who attended his gala tonight, requesting them to assemble hampers of food and holiday gifts for distribution to the poor. Thanks to you, so many people who would otherwise go without will now have a lovely Christmas!”
Will’s throat tightened, and he felt a telltale pinching in his nose that presaged tears. He hadn’t truly wept since just aferhis mother died, but he felt on the verge of doing so now, not out of a surfeit of grief, but from an excess of happiness!
Elizabeth came up to him, her eyes sparkling in the candlelight like the gems of the treasured keepsake which now hung, back in its rightful place, around her neck, and when she spoke her voice sounded as though it was being forced past a lump in her own throat.
"If I could give you the perfect Christmas gift … the one I would wish for you, were it within my power to grant it … I would bring your mother back to you." She lowered her eyes a moment, and when she looked back up into his face a hint of sadness had dimmed her joy. "Alas, I know it‘s not possible to bring the dead back to life. But we can make sure your dear mother’s memory and her giving spirit live on, so long as we honour her tradition in this way.” She fingered the necklace with a trembling smile. “Just as my mother will always be with me, as long as I have reminders like this to keep her alive in my mind and in my heart."
Will was moved beyond words. “Elizabeth, I-I don’t know what to say,” he faltered. “Except thank you. I only wish I had something of equal value to give you…”
“Why, don’t you know already, silly?" She slipped her small hands into his, clasping them warmly. "You’re my gift! Until Fate contrived for our paths to cross that day at sea, I never had a friend before. Now I do-the dearest friend I shall ever have!”
At this very moment, Will could have died of bliss, his heart swelling fit to bursting despite the melancholy that shared space with his elation. In a way, this was both the very best and the very worst Christmas ever for him: the first without his beloved mother, but also his first with this dear girl Elizabeth, whom he would never have met but for tragic circumstances and the capricious hand of Fate-a girl who had become his deliverance, his friend, and (God willing!) his future.
And when she lifted her face and brushed her lips across his cheek with a whispered "Happy Christmas, Will!" and allowed him to do the same to her, he knew then that he loved her, and would love her until the day he died.
Epilogue
"And then they made me their chief…"
Jack's tale was interrupted by a bright flutter in the periphery of his vision, quickly followed by a splash as something hit the rocky waters at the base of the cliff, with force. His head snapped around. Eh? What in bloody hell was that?!
Before he could so much as move, a man's plaintive voice, carried upon the wind, reached them-a cry of anguish, of desperation. "Elizabeth!!!"
The name stirred something deep in Jack's memory, drawing him to his feet even as his lightning-quick mind knit the bits of information-the flutter, the splash, the cry-into a cohesive whole, bringing him to the conclusion as to what had made that splash.
Or rather, who had made the splash.
Elizabeth!
Again, that nagging, elusive memory hovered at the back of his mind. Someone he met once, many years and countless bottles of rum ago, at one of the nadirs of his rather chequered life … a girl also named Elizabeth, or something like it (Lizzy? Betsy? Bess?) …
Bess. The name conjured a vague image in his mind's eye: a young girl's face, dusted with freckles, smiling up at him, pressing something into his hand, whispering words that set a renewed flame of hope flaring in his hopeless breast…
Find your beautiful ship … win her back…
Promise me…
A girl whose innocent faith had pulled him from the brink of self-destruction, set his feet back on a path of redemption, of reclamation, of purpose … whose shining eyes had looked at him and seen someone worth helping, worth saving…
As he stood on the Interceptor's deck, watching the ripples in the water slowly die out, waiting for a sign of a bobbing head or flailing arm breaking surface to indicate a struggle for life-coming to know, with dread certainty, that there would be none-he turned to the stouter of the two redcoats flanking him. "Will you be saving her, then?"
"I can't swim!"
Jack swung his gaze to the smaller redcoat to his left, one brow raising interrogatively, but the man only shrugged helplessly and shook his head.
Bugger!
Navy men, bound to serve either on or around sailing ships, and therefore (inevitably) water, and neither could swim? Sheer idiocy!
Jack rolled his eyes. "Pearl of the King's Navy, you are!" he said, with irony.
Jack's first, and foremost, impulse (given the fact that all those lovely soldiers from the to-do at the fort were, shortly, going to be down here, swarming the docks) was to use this distraction…
(Elizabeth)
…as a convenient opportunity to slip away.
But the memory of that other Elizabeth-that girl, Bess-was enough for his conscience to overrule his keenly-developed sense of self-preservation, taking the decision, as it were, out of his hands.
Bugger, bugger, bugger!
Quickly stripping himself of his effects-pistol, sword, coat, and hat-he pressed them into the arms of the the two gawking redcoats. "Do not lose these!"
Then, before his common sense could wrest back control and reject such a foolhardy course of action, he turned and dived head-first into the water…
(Part 5)
(Part 4)
(Part 3)
(Part 2)
(Part 1)
Title: "The Christmas Stranger" (6/6)
Author: luvvycat
Written for: geekmama
Characters/Pairing: Young Will Turner/Young Elizabeth Swann
Rating: PG
Warnings: Some doxy suggestiveness in Part 2; minor violence in Parts 2 and 3; salty language in Part 4; minor suggestive themes throughout.
Disclaimer: PotC is Disney's, not mine (darn it!)
Author's Notes: In response to GeekMama's request "J/E (etc. ?) at Christmas; or young Jack, or young Will/Elizabeth at Christmas." Not beta'ed (as my recipient IS my beta, and I didn't want to spoil the surprise!), so any errors are entirely my own.
For the second time that night, Will found himself skulking in the foliage beneath Elizabeth's window, anxiously waiting for the light to come up in her room.
He let his mind wander back a few hours, to when they’d first returned to the house…
* * * * *
Lieutenant Norrington briskly escorted them into the reception hall of the Governor’s mansion, deserted now save for the tousle-haired manservant who had responded to the Lieutenant's knock, and a bevy of housemaids who flitted here and there like silent shadows, toiling deep into the night to make the house impeccable for yet more Yuletide festivities on the morrow. The doors to both front parlours, the dining room, and the library were still thrown wide open, as they had been earlier to accommodate the flow of holiday guests, though the terrace doors that had previously stood open were now shut against the cooling Caribbean night.
Darting a quick, furtive look at Norrington's back, Elizabeth said, in the polite, impersonal voice she customarily used with the other household staff, but never had with him, “Thank you, Will. You’ve been a tremendous help. You may go now…”
“Not so fast!” the commanding voice, backed up by an imperious green-eyed gaze, froze the pair in their tracks. “I’m sure the Governor will insist on a full accounting-from both of you-regarding your whereabouts and activities tonight.”
As he turned back to the manservant, requesting that he advise the Governor that Lieutenant Norrington was respectfully seeking immediate audience, Will felt a touch upon his hand, and turned to see Elizabeth regarding him with wide, tragic eyes, face a study in dismay. “I’m so sorry, Will, for drawing you into this," she whispered so Norrington wouldn't hear. "It’s all my fault.”
Taking her hand, he squeezed it and tried to smile encouragement, though his own guts were twisted into knots at the prospect of having to face Governor Swann. "I'm as much to blame as you are. After all, I was a willing participant. In fact…" he murmured, his voice warming at the memory of her, earlier, in his arms, "I wouldn't have missed it, for the world!"
* * * * *
Clearly roused from a bed to which he had only just retired, the Governor-bleary-eyed, bereft of wig, and tying a heavy brocade dressing-gown around his fine silk nightshirt-received them in the private sitting room adjacent to his bedchambers.
"Lieutenant?" Weatherby said, in a voice tinged with confusion and thinly-veiled annoyance. "I trust you have a very good reason for disturbing my rest at this ungodly hour…"
"My apologies, Governor, but the matter is of some importance, and involves a subject near and dear to your heart. You see, as I was making my way home tonight, I found in the road something of great value which belongs to you, and thought you might appreciate the safe and expeditious return of same."
He turned and beckoned to Will and Elizabeth, who exchanged one last look of trepidation before reluctantly stepping into the room.
The door shut behind them, ensuring privacy from the household's prying eyes and curious ears. As Weatherby's gaze took in the dishevelled pair standing before him-their hair loose and mussed, shoes and clothing smirched with mud and road dust-the scales of sleep fell with an almost audible clatter from his eyes, which widened in alarm as they touched upon the red-stained bandage on Will's hand … the slash and traces of blood on his daughter's cape and skirts.
"Elizabeth! Dear god!" he exclaimed, voice rising an octave in distress. "Would somebody please tell me what the devil is going on?!"
* * * * *
While Lieutenant Norrington related his part of the tale-how he had found the two children in their present state, alone and unchaperoned by the side of the road, their only offered explanation being that they had been returning from an errand of charity in town-Swann became increasingly agitated, until he seemed on the verge of an apoplectic attack.
As Norrington's narrative concluded, Weatherby turned a red-flushed face to his daughter. "Elizabeth… what have you to say for yourself?" His forbidding gaze took in Will as well, who had been standing motionless, doffed tricorne held respectfully in hand, since entering the Governor's presence. "And you, Master Turner! What in heaven’s name possessed you to remove my daughter from this house, in the dead of night, without my knowledge or permission?"
Will’s first instinct was to protect Elizabeth-to throw himself upon his proverbial sword, take the entirety of the blame, and face the consequences for the both of them. However, he had barely opened his mouth when he felt a sharp kick to his foot, delivered from beneath the concealment of skirts and cloak as Elizabeth quickly interjected, beating him to the draw:
"Father, I want you to know that Will had absolutely nothing to do with this. The idea was entirely mine, and he only accompanied me because I asked him to do so." Weatherby eyed Will dubiously, clearly not convinced of his innocence. "In any case, when he saw that I was determined to carry on, with or without his escort, he reluctantly agreed to go, solely out of concern for my safety."
Governor Swann harrumphed and directed a look equal parts suspicion and ire at Will. "If the boy was so concerned for your safety, Elizabeth, then he should have come directly to me. Rest assured, I would have dissuaded you from whatever foolishness you intended to engage in."
"But, Father," Elizabeth continued, "I also consider Will to be my friend, and I his, and friends do not betray one another's confidence and trust, under any circumstances. You taught me that, when I was hardly higher than your knee…" She stepped forward and laid a hand upon the sleeve of her father's dressing-gown, smiling gently. "Recall, Father, a year ago, on the Dauntless, you entrusted Will's care to me? Well, tonight, he returned the favour, looking after me, offering his protection when I might have gone alone, without a care for my own well-being. Had he not accompanied me, I might have come to harm."
"And the tears in your clothing? The bloody bandage on his hand? What am I to make of that?"
"My own clumsiness, I'm afraid. My skirts became snagged on some brambles, and Will suffered a deep scratch on his hand freeing me. It's his blood on my cape and skirts. A stupid accident, I know, and completely my fault, but Will was the only one to sustain injury. He was escorting me back home, when Lieutenant Norrington came upon us…"
"I see." Weatherby's attention shifted back to Will. "Is this true, Master Turner?"
"I-" He felt another sharp kick to his foot. "Yes, sir. It is."
"Please, Father…" Elizabeth clutched at her father's sleeve again. "Will is not to blame for my own poor judgment. In fact, he tried to talk me out of going. I would never forgive myself if he were punished simply for minding his place, and obeying my orders as Governor's daughter as well as de facto lady of the house."
As the Governor gazed down into his daughter's pleading face, there was a subtle change to his expression, a softening in the lines around his eyes and mouth, but only for a moment before it returned to stony resolve. "Yes, well … in any case, someone must be held accountable for your misbehaviour. And, as you have apparently exonerated William by taking sole blame, it appears you will have to assume the sole burden of punishment as well."
"Yes, Father," Elizabeth said, sounding sufficiently chastened, but darting a quick, unhappy
glance at Will.
"As for you, young man…" Swann transfixed Will with a stern look, "as fond as I, and my daughter, are of you, if you ever do anything like this again, I promise you, the penalty shall be severe, indeed! Do I make myself clear, Master Turner?"
"Y-yes, perfectly," Will stammered.
"Good. Now, if you and the Lieutenant would kindly leave us," he levelled an ominous gaze at Elizabeth, his tone equally formidable, "I must attend to the matter of my disobedient daughter."
As Will made a small bow of obeisance and turned to leave the room, he heard Norrington say, "Governor, if you please … before I go, might I have a word…?"
The last glimpse Will caught of Elizabeth before the door was shut in his face was her, standing before her elders like a prisoner at the dock, the picture of contrite demureness, eyes downcast, hands folded docilely before her even while the stubborn set of her jaw bespoke an innate defiance of their authority over her.
Once banished to the hall, Will hovered anxiously at the door, ear pressed to the crack, trying to hear what was transpiring within, but could make out little beside the muffled sound of voices, occasionally raised but not enough for him to discern exactly what was being said.
After a few minutes, the door suddenly swung open, and Lieutenant Norrington emerged, catching Will by surprise. Pinning him with a disapproving glare as he closed the door, firmly and pointedly, behind him, he said, brusquely, "I would advise you, Master Turner, not to compound your complicity in tonight's events by attempting to eavesdrop on a private conversation."
"But … Elizabeth?" Will started, worry making him forget the rules of propriety that prevented him-a mere servant-referring to her by her Christian name. "What's to become of her?"
"The fate of Miss Swann," the Lieutenant emphasised curtly, tacitly rebuking Will for his egregious breach of etiquette, "is a matter to be settled between she and her father. It is no concern of yours."
Will bridled. He'd had quite enough this night of being dismissed, disregarded, and made to feel like a non-entity in Elizabeth's life by older men. "Can I help it if I care what happens to her?" he bit out fervently, just a hair's-breadth shy of impudence.
The Lieutenant's eyes sharpened and then slitted as he studied Will, as though he were truly seeing him for the first time-a look strangely reminiscent of the one Captain Smith had given him, earlier, while debating his worth as an escort to "Bess." After a moment of scrutinising Will's face, apparently seeing something there that convinced him of the boy's earnestness, Norrington gave a nearly imperceptible nod, and his severe mien relaxed somewhat. "No more or less than I do, I assure you," he answered in a more moderate timbre. "A remarkable young lady, Miss Swann … possessed of a great heart as well as many other fine qualities, though her youthful impulsiveness clearly tends to cloud her better judgment-a common failing of the young, I'm afraid," he said dryly, making it obvious that he included Will in that assessment as well.
"Now, might I recommend that you remove yourself from the hallway to the long-forsaken haven of your own bed? I'd wager both you and Miss Swann have had quite an…" his gaze flicked to Will's bandaged hand, "… eventful night." He started to turn away, then hesitated. "Oh… and before you go to your slumber, you might have someone see to that first," he nodded to the bloodied serviette. "Wouldn't want infection to set in, now would we?"
Will's eyes rested on the spot on the linen where he could swear he could still see the impression of lip-prints, and smiled to himself. "No need to worry, sir. It's already been taken care of."
"If you say so," Norrington said, with a trace of scepticism. As Will passed the Lieutenant, the cool voice followed after him, "And do try to stay out of trouble henceforth, Master Turner. I trust you don't want to give the Governor any additional cause to discharge you from his service?"
Will paused at the top of the staircase, but didn't turn around. "No, sir."
Footsteps approached, and then Norrington's voice came again, lower. "You do know, don't you, that you owe that young lady a debt of gratitude for what she just did in there, not to mention to her father for giving you a position in this household in the first place, when he could easily have had you shipped back to England a year ago and placed in the care of an orphanage."
Will spun and faced the Lieutenant, earth-brown eyes meeting, holding cool sea-green. "Believe me, I am fully aware of exactly how much I owe Miss Swann," he said, with feeling, "As well as you, the Governor, and the entire crew of the Dauntless. If not for you all, I might be mouldering at the bottom of the sea right now with those other poor souls from the Sally Mae, instead of celebrating another Christmas, alive and well, and well taken care of by generous and caring people like the Swanns." Norrington opened his mouth as though to interject, but Will hastened on, determined to finish before he lost his nerve. "Also believe that it's a debt I do not take lightly, nor will ever stop trying to repay-by dedicating my life to the eradication of those who brought about such wanton destruction and senseless slaughter, as well as devoting myself to do whatever necessary to ensure the happiness and well-being of she whom I consider to be my saviour."
Again that measuring look, punctuated by a small nod of the Lieutenant's bewigged head. "Lofty goals, to be sure, young man. One only hopes you get a chance to achieve them." Then he straightened, the military bearing returning as he drew himself to full height, clasping his hands behind his back, nose lifting into the air, calling to mind Elizabeth’s impertinent impersonation of this very man, which had been such cause for amusement at the beginning of the evening. "That's all. You may go!"
Will touched the brim of his tricorne respectfully and turned away.
"Oh … and one last thing, Master Turner," the patrician voice sounded like a whipcrack behind him in the almost unnatural silence that now blanketed the house like a winter snow.
Will stopped in his tracks, spine stiffening. What now?
A pregnant pause, as the tension in the air grew to nearly unbearable levels, before Norrington's voice came again, more kindly:
"Happy Christmas."
Will relaxed, releasing a breath he hadn't even been aware of holding and, with a small, relieved smile, responded, softly, "And a Happy Christmas to you, sir."
He imagined he could feel the keen eyes watching him from the landing as he descended the stairs and crossed the tiled floor of the now-deserted (and spotlessly clean) entry hall, heading in the general direction of the servants' quarters. He knew, though, that bed would have to wait at least a little while longer this night. He could not go easily to his rest, without first knowing what Elizabeth's fate would be.
Lost in thoughts of Elizabeth, it escaped his notice that, as opposed to the arrangement earlier, the terrace doors were now open, and the library doors shut…
* * * * *
He came out of his reverie at the sound of his name being called.
"Pssst! Will!" a voice hissed down to him. "Are you down there?"
He looked up to see Elizabeth leaning out her window, candle in hand, its flickering flame casting her features into a thoroughly enchanting, shifting patchwork of shadow and light. Earlier, she had likened her mother to a Christmas angel, descended from Heaven. Seeing that grand lady’s only child now-limned by silver moonlight, kissed by golden candleglow-he could almost believe similar seraphic origins for the daughter.
He was suddenly reminded of a passage Elizabeth had once read him from one of the volumes of Shakespeare in her father’s library, about a lady standing on her balcony, whilst a young man wooed her from the garden below. At the time, it had sounded like naught but overly-romantic twaddle to him; men, after all, didn’t really speak in flowery verse, did they? Now, though, looking up at a shimmering Elizabeth, he thought he was beginning to understand how a man might be moved to poetry…
He stepped out of the shrubs, his heart in his throat so that it took a moment for him to speak. "Yes … I'm here."
She beckoned with a gesture of her dainty hand. "Come on up!"
He scrambled as silently as he could up the trellis, and she stepped back to allow him to clamber over the sill, this time, thankfully, with nary a stumble.
One glance at her flushed face, her overly-bright eyes a-glimmer with what looked like the remains of tears, made something in his chest tighten. "What happened? Are you all right?"
"Yes … nothing more than a severe dressing-down and an extended paternal lecture on the hazards that befall wilful young ladies who wander off at night without their fathers knowing."
Will was surprised, and relieved. "That's it?"
She glanced up at him, sharply. "Why? Were you hoping for a more stringent sentence for my infraction?" she asked, sardonically.
"N-No…" he stammered with a nervous laugh, and hastened to explain, "I was just afraid that, in his anger, your father's punishment might have taken a more … physical form."
Elizabeth gave a gentle smile and shook her head, her hair falling forward to sweep against her cheeks as she looked down at the carpeted floor. "Oh, no. Father's never, ever raised a hand to me, though there have been times, like this, when I've seriously tested the limits of his patience!" She sighed, and her smile vanished. "Sometimes, though, I think I would much rather have the slap, than to suffer the sting of his disapproval and disappointment."
"I really do wish you had let me take the blame…"
Her eyes snapped back up to his face. "And have Father cast you-my only friend-out into the street? Better that I suffer a whipping, than that! Besides, what I told him was no more or less than the full truth. The whole misadventure was entirely my fault, and I could hardly let you accept punishment for that."
"Not entirely your fault," he countered, even as her words warmed him with the knowledge that her regard for him went that deeply.
"In any case, he was bound to be more lenient with me than with you. I'm his daughter, after all. He could hardly banish me from my own home!" Her expression saddened again. "Though it does pain me to think I've been less than a perfect daughter to him. In my single-minded desire to do this thing, I never once spared a thought for how devastated Father would be, if I were hurt... or worse! I was concerned only with the consequences I would suffer, were I caught out! It was thoughtless, and selfish. He deserves so much better than me."
"Nonsense," Will said, kindly. "I'm sure he'd be the first to disagree. One can see, quite plainly, that he loves you, very much. How can he help it, after all? You are…"
Beautiful. Wonderful. Perfect.
Her eyes rose to meet his as he paused. "I am … what?" she queried, head tilted slightly, like a curious cat's.
He shrugged, thankful for the fickle nature of candlelight that served to hide the blushes he felt heating his face. "You are … who you are: his daughter. And, despite everything that's happened, I'm sure your father considers himself quite lucky to have you." He was rewarded as the corner of her mouth twitched into a little smile at his words. "But … tell me. How were you able to persuade your father to clemency? He didn't seem inclined to mercy when he dismissed the Lieutenant and me."
"Oh, he wasn't! I was certain I was in for a harsh reckoning!" Her face grew reflective, with a touch of puzzlement. "Oddly enough, given his vaunted devotion to rules and regulations, it was Lieutenant Norrington who interceded on my behalf. He advised Father to take into consideration, before determining my fate, the reason for my breaking his curfew, which was to perform a selfless act of charity. And, as it is Christmas, and my intentions were pure, if misguided, ones, perhaps forgiveness rather than reprisal was the order of the day, as well as the Christian thing to do on this anniversary of Our Lord's birth.
"Once Father calmed down, we had a nice, long talk. He asked for, and I gave him, a full accounting of what we did tonight, from start to finish-" At Will's look of alarm, she hastened to explain, "-judiciously edited, of course, to omit certain incidents and … rather eccentric acquaintances that I thought it best he not know about. Since all turned out well in the end, I didn't see the point of needlessly burdening him with details that he would, no doubt, find extremely distressing."
"And he believed you?"
"For the most part. Father's not a fool, you know, so I'm sure he suspects I wasn't telling him the complete story. I do, however, find myself in a bit of a quandary," she said, a worried frown falling across her face. "Father noticed I was no longer wearing Mother's necklace, and I just didn't have the heart to tell him that I gave it away… to a virtual stranger, no less! So…" She bit her lip, which, Will knew, she frequently did when prevaricating. "I lied, and told him that the necklace was safe, up here in my room. But he's expecting me to return it to him in the morning, so he can lock it back up with the rest of Mother's jewels." She grimaced. "In my eagerness to make my gift to poor Captain Smith, I completely forgot that Father also has strong sentimental attachments to Mother's things-and, most especially, that necklace." She bit her lip again. "You see, she was wearing it when she married Father, so it was bound to be missed by him…"
"Oh, Elizabeth! What are you going to do when morning comes, and you fail to produce the necklace?"
She wrung her hands. "I don't know! As long as I was telling falsehoods, I should have just claimed that I lost it. He'd still be angry and disappointed in me, but better that he think it gone through an act of carelessness than of will." She balled her fist, bringing it down, sharply, against the palm of her other hand. "I could, truly, kick myself for not devising a better excuse!"
Will couldn't help smiling. "Being a poor liar is nothing to be ashamed of, Elizabeth. I hardly think it's a talent any honest person would care to cultivate, let alone take pride in."
She returned his smile, ruefully. "Yes, well … I'm beginning to appreciate the pitfalls of engaging in the practice. I suppose one should learn to do it well, or avoid it altogether!"
"I vote for the latter. As my mother was accustomed to saying, no good ever comes of telling lies … or keeping secrets."
Elizabeth winced, her eyes seeming to dwell for a moment on the top drawer of her dressing-table before turning on him with a somewhat guilty expression. Then she brightened. "Oh … but there is a silver lining to this whole ghastly affair-"
While they'd been gone, the fire in the grate had burned down to little more than embers, providing only a weak illumination. As Elizabeth bent to touch her candle-flame to the wick of the little lamp on her bedside table, something flashed creamy-white in the circle of candlelight cast upon its dark wood surface.
"What's this?" she exclaimed. Her brow furrowed prettily as she turned the lamp up to reveal two folded sheets of paper laying upon the bed-stand. She bent to examine them more closely. "They appear to be letters: one for you, and one for me!"
As she held them up, he could see that was exactly what they were: upon one was scrawled in elegant but rather spidery script the name "Bess", the other addressed to "Walter."
Elizabeth handed Will the one that bore his pseudonym, along with her candle so he could read it, while she unfolded and began to scan the other, her glance going immediately to the bottom of the letter. Her eyebrows flew up. "As I suspected! They're from Captain Smith! But… how did they get here? And when did he have a chance to write these? We were with him practically the entire time, up until he took leave of us."
"Perhaps that's why he was gone so long at the tavern…" Will posited.
"No … look, the ink's still rather fresh," she smudged it with her forefinger, then held it up, her fingertip coming away black. "These had to have been written within the past hour!" Narrowing her eyes, she held the paper up so that it was backlit by the lamp. "And see here … this watermark? This is my father's stationery! I'd know it anywhere!"
She looked up, and their eyes met, filling with apprehension, as they came to the same conclusion at the same time: Captain Smith had been here, under this very roof-in this very room, in fact-quite recently … had written and delivered these letters himself!
Will unfolded his, and began to read:
Walter the Stalwart (Daring Defender of fair Damsels in Distress):
It was a pleasure making your acquaintance tonight (though one might wish the circumstances had been rather different, and decidedly less dire). I can see that you're a winning lad, with a no doubt bright future (should you survive your stripling years), but for a boy your age, on the cusp of manhood, to be yet so green as to the ways of the world, does not bode well for your living long enough to attain, let alone enjoy the fruits of, said manhood. Suffice to say that I have learned, through hard experience, that many qualities others regard as virtues are, though admirable attributes, not particularly conducive to personal happiness, continued well-being, or long life. Rules, as it were (like Laws and Commandments), are seldom hard and fast, and are frequently broken, so a bit of creative interpretation needs to be applied. Indeed, one of the greatest joys of life is in the finding of the loopholes, and slipping through them...
If I may be so bold as to foist some additional unsolicited counsel upon you, based on me extensive experience of the world and particularly of the female creature: delightful (and, on rather special and quite personally urgent occasions, delightfully useful) as they may be, make no mistake, women are Trouble, and your Bess (despite her tender years) is no exception. Mark me words, unless I misread the signs (and I rarely do), she's like to grow into the kind of beauty what draws men into her orbit only to merrily send them on to early graves. From tonight's events, I can see plain as the (at present, sore and somewhat skewed) nose on me face, that Trouble follows in her wake like an eager pup nipping at her heels. Steer clear of those shoals, mate, if you know what's good for you!
However, if you're inclined to disregard me pearls of wisdom, and decide to stay your course as guardian to your lovely miss (who I am thoroughly convinced is NOT your sister, despite your protestations otherwise), I would advise that you acquire a weapon as soon as possible, and apply yourself diligently to the mastery of it. In any case, proficiency in sword or pistol will stand you in good stead as you go through life, for most men are untrustworthy sods, apt to stab a man in the back, (or, even more painfully, in the front), so it's best to be able to defend said back (or front) as need demands.
Will silently resolved to do just that. He never again wanted to rely on strangers, and Fate's intervention, to keep Elizabeth safe.
He continued reading:
My unbounded gratitude goes to you both for your charity tonight … as well as for (at the very moment I write this) causing such prolonged and effective distraction to enable Yours Truly to put into literal practise that invaluable lesson what the Good Book teaches us: "The Lord helps those who help themselves."
Best Wishes for a long and happy life, bereft of Troubles, Rules, and Pirates…
Yr. Obt. Srvt.,
C.J.S.
P.S. - By the by, Miss Bess was correct in her advice not to judge all pirates too harshly. In truth, I knew a pirate once who was a good man, devoted to his wife and son, and loved them so much that he stood by and let a good mate go to almost certain death, for desperate fear of being parted from them forever. Though the bonds forged by friendship can be strong ones (but must always be suspect: see my above observation re: the nature of man), they are nothing to bonds of blood, olove.
When each had finished reading their own letter, they exchanged curious glances, and then pages, allowing the other to read what they just had.
Will read:
My Sweet "Bess" -
I am returning that which you so generously bestowed upon me tonight. Though you are correct that your treasured trinket would pay handsomely for a ship of humble means-and, no doubt, a meaner, humbler crew-I believe it more rightfully belongs where it would serve an even higher purpose, and where your dear departed mother intended it to be: round your pretty throat, keeping memories of her alive. I am shamed to say it has been many a year since I looked in on me own mum, but I know meself that a mother's love is a precious thing, and tokens of that warm affection are not, nor should be, given away lightly, especially to the likes of me. If it were merely gems and gold you were gifting me, I'd not hesitate to accept them, for I know better than most their worth (at least in your more illegitimate markets) and would be a fool to turn them away, but the wealth of stolen memories that accompany them is too dear a burden for me to assume, and too high a price for a tender-hearted lass like you to pay to redeem such an unworthy beneficiary.
At this point, Elizabeth, reading "Walter's" letter, made a small sound of outrage, and he looked up to see her scowling, a petulant moue upon her rosy lips. "Trouble, am I?" she exclaimed. "The nerve of the man!"
Will only smiled at her outburst, then read on:
Fear not that I will forsake my quest, and your highness' imperious command, to take back what's mine (though my fair lady of the seas was, in the day, a Wicked Wench indeed, she is nevertheless the priceless Pearl of me heart, and I will not rest until she is back where she belongs-beneath her devoted lord's worshipful feet, and under the gentle mastery of his loving hands). Your tales of valorous pirates have inspired me to abandon my current rudderless pursuits and to pull meself up by me Bootstraps. Indeed, you have reminded me of a man I once used to know, and whose acquaintance I haven't made for quite some time-a man I faced each day in me mirror, before he became lost somewhere between the shoals of despair and despondency, and the dregs dwelling in the depths of a bottomless bottle of rum (though, in truth, I find the idea of a bottomless bottle of rum quite a splendid notion, and one I shall no doubt contemplate at great length in days to come).
Your Captain Sparrow sounds to be a very wise, dashing, clever, and strikingly handsome man, and I shall strive to emulate him as best I can. Indeed, I will so fully assimilate him into me own being that one would think he and I are the self-same person.
Mayhap, when that day comes when my sweet lady of the seas and I are reunited, I shall return and take you and your bosom friend Walter for a sail on my beautiful ship. In any case, I shall never forget the kindness, and the gift of hope, you have granted me this Yuletide night. You have made a new man of me-or, rather, resurrected the one I once was.
With fondest felicitations of the season,
Yr. Most Hmbl. & Obt. Srvt.,
C.J.S.
P.S. - The servants may find, upon their next inventory of the household goods, that a few small though rather costly trifles have inexplicably gone missing. My apologies for that, as well as making free of your trust and good graces, but as I'm shipping out immediately, and my return of your much-beloved bauble leaves me in much the same pecuniary straits as when the night began-or mayhap somewhat less, given the loss of a bit of personal gold I suffered somewhere between tavern and pigsty, dislodged by way of a rather vigorous application of a fist to me mouth-I hope you will consider fair exchange the swap of one item of deeply personal sentiment for a sackful of ones considerably less dear to you. Indeed, you may find the décor somewhat improved by the removal of such flagrant and vulgar objects of ostentation. Be comforted that any gains I make from the bartering of such ill-gotten gewgaws will go to an eminently worthy cause, and help in the execution of your command for me to recover me lost ship.
"See!" Will cried, in satisfaction. "I knew he couldn't be trusted! The man's nothing but a common thief!" As he came to the bottom of the page, he frowned and looked up into eyes every bit as confused as he knew his own must be. "But … I don't understand. He didn't return the necklace!"
Elizabeth's eyes sharpened. "Look!" she exclaimed. "There's more … on the back!"
Will turned the letter over, and read aloud:
P.P.S. - If this note makes not a smidgen of sense to you, might I recommend you check the pocket of your cloak…
The cape lay discarded across the foot of the bed, where Elizabeth had flung it upon returning from her Grand Inquisition with her father. She now retrieved it, and dipped her hand into first one pocket, then the other…
Her mouth dropped open, her eyes widening in surprise. Drawing her hand out, she unfurled her fist, where something lay nestled in her open palm, sparking and twinkling in the candlelight.
Her mother's necklace!
Elizabeth, stunned, let the cape fall unheeded to the floor as she sat down heavily on the bed, running a finger disbelievingly across the beloved jewel she clearly never expected to see again. "Oh, Will!" When she looked back up at him, her face was bright, her eyes aglow with happiness. "This is truly a Christmas miracle! God bless Captain Smith!"
Will snorted, not inclined to be as charitably disposed toward the trickster-y Captain. "The man is no saint, Elizabeth! He may have done a generous and honourable thing by returning the necklace to you, but by his own admission," he held up the letter, "he's made off with half the household goods!"
Elizabeth pouted. "You exaggerate, of course. And the Captain is right-we have so much here, I'm sure a few items won't even be missed, or will simply be thought to have been misplaced. It does happen…"
"And what if it is noticed, and some poor, innocent servant is blamed?"
Elizabeth dismissed his concerns with a blithe wave of her hand. "If and when that occurs, I'm sure I'll think of something. Besides, from the servants' talk, some members of Port Royal society-most of whom attended Father's ball tonight-are notoriously light-fingered! I hear that Mrs Abernathy can't be trusted around anyone's best silver! But, as nobody wants to be the one to bring scandal and disgrace to a member of one of the most prominent families in Port Royal, the pilfering goes ignored, and the whole matter gets swept under the carpet.”
Of course, Will had heard such things in the servants' quarters himself, but hardly thought that Elizabeth would concern herself with idle talk! He supposed that new maid, Estrella, who, at sixteen, was only a few years older than Elizabeth, had been the one to tell her, as she appeared to revel in the spreading of gossip. But he had thought Elizabeth above such tawdry pursuits.
Then again, how could he find any fault with her, when her angel's face was awash with delight, her mother's necklace safely returned, and a reckoning with her father avoided? After all, he himself had been no exemplar of honesty or integrity tonight: he'd been prepared to lie through his teeth to her father and Norrington to save her from censure, not to mention all the other little white lies he'd told that night to Captain Smith to mask their true identities, so he was hardly in a position to pass judgment!
(Of course, those untruths may have all been for naught if the Captain had followed them and discovered whose house this was, and by inference who-and what-"Bess" must be.)
"In any case," Elizabeth added with a sigh, reclaiming both letters, "I doubt we'll ever see Captain John Smith again. He's likely setting sail even as we speak, so it's quite pointless to tell Father now." She stepped over to the fireplace, and tossed the letters onto the grate, watching as the embers sprang back into fiery life, and the letters were quickly consumed by the crackling flames.
Will frowned, suddenly overcome with misery, seeing his own opportunities to be with Elizabeth turning to ash just like the letters in the fireplace. "Nor, I suppose, will your Father ever permit me to spend time with you again, after tonight. In fact, I half expect him to send me away from here..."
“Oh … but that’s what I've been trying to tell you! You see, I explained to Father about our 'errand of mercy' and where I had gotten the idea for it. I told him you had been my source of inspiration!"
Will groaned inwardly. If there had been any chance at all of the Governor letting him stay, those hopes were now all but quashed. No father worth his salt would allow someone who had proven to be such a bad influence on his daughter to remain employed in his household!
"I really wish you hadn't done that…" Will started, his heart heading for his boots, already anticipating, and dreading, the good-byes to come.
"No… listen! I told him all about you and your mother, and how you'd share your holiday feast every year with someone less fortunate… and Father thought it a simply marvellous idea!-though he did wish that we had come to him in the first place with it, rather than attempt such an enterprise on our own.
"And that brings me to the most wonderful news!" She looked ready to explode, her grin stretching so impossibly wide. "Will … he wants to include your mother’s tradition of the Christmas Stranger in Port Royal’s annual holiday festivities, starting immediately! Even as we speak, he’s sending notes round to all who attended his gala tonight, requesting them to assemble hampers of food and holiday gifts for distribution to the poor. Thanks to you, so many people who would otherwise go without will now have a lovely Christmas!”
Will’s throat tightened, and he felt a telltale pinching in his nose that presaged tears. He hadn’t truly wept since just aferhis mother died, but he felt on the verge of doing so now, not out of a surfeit of grief, but from an excess of happiness!
Elizabeth came up to him, her eyes sparkling in the candlelight like the gems of the treasured keepsake which now hung, back in its rightful place, around her neck, and when she spoke her voice sounded as though it was being forced past a lump in her own throat.
"If I could give you the perfect Christmas gift … the one I would wish for you, were it within my power to grant it … I would bring your mother back to you." She lowered her eyes a moment, and when she looked back up into his face a hint of sadness had dimmed her joy. "Alas, I know it‘s not possible to bring the dead back to life. But we can make sure your dear mother’s memory and her giving spirit live on, so long as we honour her tradition in this way.” She fingered the necklace with a trembling smile. “Just as my mother will always be with me, as long as I have reminders like this to keep her alive in my mind and in my heart."
Will was moved beyond words. “Elizabeth, I-I don’t know what to say,” he faltered. “Except thank you. I only wish I had something of equal value to give you…”
“Why, don’t you know already, silly?" She slipped her small hands into his, clasping them warmly. "You’re my gift! Until Fate contrived for our paths to cross that day at sea, I never had a friend before. Now I do-the dearest friend I shall ever have!”
At this very moment, Will could have died of bliss, his heart swelling fit to bursting despite the melancholy that shared space with his elation. In a way, this was both the very best and the very worst Christmas ever for him: the first without his beloved mother, but also his first with this dear girl Elizabeth, whom he would never have met but for tragic circumstances and the capricious hand of Fate-a girl who had become his deliverance, his friend, and (God willing!) his future.
And when she lifted her face and brushed her lips across his cheek with a whispered "Happy Christmas, Will!" and allowed him to do the same to her, he knew then that he loved her, and would love her until the day he died.
Epilogue
"And then they made me their chief…"
Jack's tale was interrupted by a bright flutter in the periphery of his vision, quickly followed by a splash as something hit the rocky waters at the base of the cliff, with force. His head snapped around. Eh? What in bloody hell was that?!
Before he could so much as move, a man's plaintive voice, carried upon the wind, reached them-a cry of anguish, of desperation. "Elizabeth!!!"
The name stirred something deep in Jack's memory, drawing him to his feet even as his lightning-quick mind knit the bits of information-the flutter, the splash, the cry-into a cohesive whole, bringing him to the conclusion as to what had made that splash.
Or rather, who had made the splash.
Elizabeth!
Again, that nagging, elusive memory hovered at the back of his mind. Someone he met once, many years and countless bottles of rum ago, at one of the nadirs of his rather chequered life … a girl also named Elizabeth, or something like it (Lizzy? Betsy? Bess?) …
Bess. The name conjured a vague image in his mind's eye: a young girl's face, dusted with freckles, smiling up at him, pressing something into his hand, whispering words that set a renewed flame of hope flaring in his hopeless breast…
Find your beautiful ship … win her back…
Promise me…
A girl whose innocent faith had pulled him from the brink of self-destruction, set his feet back on a path of redemption, of reclamation, of purpose … whose shining eyes had looked at him and seen someone worth helping, worth saving…
As he stood on the Interceptor's deck, watching the ripples in the water slowly die out, waiting for a sign of a bobbing head or flailing arm breaking surface to indicate a struggle for life-coming to know, with dread certainty, that there would be none-he turned to the stouter of the two redcoats flanking him. "Will you be saving her, then?"
"I can't swim!"
Jack swung his gaze to the smaller redcoat to his left, one brow raising interrogatively, but the man only shrugged helplessly and shook his head.
Bugger!
Navy men, bound to serve either on or around sailing ships, and therefore (inevitably) water, and neither could swim? Sheer idiocy!
Jack rolled his eyes. "Pearl of the King's Navy, you are!" he said, with irony.
Jack's first, and foremost, impulse (given the fact that all those lovely soldiers from the to-do at the fort were, shortly, going to be down here, swarming the docks) was to use this distraction…
(Elizabeth)
…as a convenient opportunity to slip away.
But the memory of that other Elizabeth-that girl, Bess-was enough for his conscience to overrule his keenly-developed sense of self-preservation, taking the decision, as it were, out of his hands.
Bugger, bugger, bugger!
Quickly stripping himself of his effects-pistol, sword, coat, and hat-he pressed them into the arms of the the two gawking redcoats. "Do not lose these!"
Then, before his common sense could wrest back control and reject such a foolhardy course of action, he turned and dived head-first into the water…
(Part 5)
(Part 4)
(Part 3)
(Part 2)
(Part 1)