(no subject)
I yank Father by the arm into the hallway.
“You knew about this?” I ask, furious.
“Yes”, he answers.
“Is that all the response I get? This war has been going on forever. He doesn’t know what’s going on, where the French ships are, if his men are even alive or dead…”
“He knows everything he needs to know”, Father says.
I purse my lips in understanding. “You’ve been slipping information to him, haven’t you? How?”
“The books”, he says.
No wonder he was up reading all night.
“The schematics he showed me…” It’s less of a question, more of an answer.
“French”, Father says.
“I thought he was sharing with me. I thought….we were spending time…”
“You were, child. I’m sorry for deceiving you, Elizabeth, but we both thought it was necessary”, he says simply and I want to smack him. “You can’t trust anyone right now.”
“Not even your own daughter apparently”, I hiss.
“Of course I trust you, but I also know you repeat everything to Estrella…”
He stops me with a hand before I can object. “I know you trust her and I trust her too, but you can never be too careful. She could have said something to someone else. There are servants all over this house. Apparently someone said something or La Loup wouldn’t have known who she is.”
Feather head indeed.
I know tears are slipping down my face.
“Oh Elizabeth…” he says. But now I understand my husband’s perspective better than before. I don’t want his fucking pity. He tries to hold me and I push him away.
“One thing I don’t understand, Father”, I say, “How do you know all this? I find it hard to believe the French would let so much slip around you.”
I’m trying to dry my eyes with the back of my hand and Father looks like it hurts him more than it hurts me.
“We have…company in town. You need to go see him”, Father says so enigmatically, it takes all my strength not to knock him in the mouth.
“Company? How did you find all this out Father? How do you know you can even trust the source?” I ask.
“I’ve been asking myself that for years”, Father says, a look of supreme distaste on his face.
“Who?” I ask again.
“A little birdie told me. He’s been flying around for some time”, he says.
I can’t help but smirk as angry and terrified as I am.
“Does James know?” I ask.
“Yes”, Father says.
“Where is he?” I ask.
“On the dock. He wants to speak with James, but wanted your permission first, as a gesture of respect. ‘From one pirate to another’ he said, and that’s a quote.” Father wrinkles up his nose.
“Tell James I’ll be back”, I say to Father.
“He’ll insist you’re accompanied to the dock”, Father says.
“Tell him I went to the market with Estrella, tell him I went to turn myself in to the French for a yard of silk, you’re apparently both masters of deception, tell him any goddamned thing you want.”
With that, I’m gone.
Estrella apparently tried to hide some details from me. The French are everywhere, and shamefully, some of the women of Port Royal seem to be offering valuable goods to the officers in exchange for food, money, safety, even luxury goods.
I blend in though for the most part, carrying a basket with my head down. Just another lady of gentle birth having to do her own shopping these days.
A French soldier is sitting on the battlements, legs hanging over the edge. I sit down next to him, take his hat off his head and put it on mine.
“Never take a man’s hat, luv”, he says.
“Jack, why are you doing this?”
“You think I’m not a patriot?” he says with fake insult. “Besides the bloody French are hell on business.”
“Where’s Will?” I ask.
“Didn’t know what kind of reception he’d get. He’s on the Pearl…” He points to his beloved ship, the one I grew to love as well. “They think they’ve captured her and forgot to fill in the log…stupid French.”
“Why is he just sitting out there?” I ask.
“He’s waiting”, Jack says.
“For what?”
“For who” Jack corrects.
“For who?”
“For you.”
I sigh.
“I heard about the Commodore’s…misfortune. I’m sorry”, Jack offers.
“Thank you”, I say.
“See how beautiful she is…” Jack points to his ship again, unable to keep his mind on anything serious for more than one moment.
“I would give nearly anything to climb the mast again”, I say and can nearly feel the wind on my face.
“Well, come on, then, luv, you should have said something sooner…let’s see if the frogs can catch us” Jack says, like temptation itself.
“Can’t”, I say. “We’re expecting a child.”
“Commodore, you old dog”, Jack says and I swat him on the arm.
“No touch, no touch…” Jack says, scooting away, “Unless you’re going to touch nicely, luv.”
I stand up and haul him to his feet.
“I have your permission then?” he asks.
“Not really, but I don’t have a choice”, I say. “Go get Will, I’ll wait for you.”
He takes a longboat out to the Pearl and I can do nothing but wait and endure French eyes and stares. They wonder if I’m as for sale as the rest.
They return, both clad in French uniforms. My stomach begins to twist as Will comes into view. He walks over to me and inclines his head, obviously even more nervous than I am.
“Elizabeth….Mrs. Norrington”, he corrects himself.
“Will, it’s so nice to see you”, but I can’t hug either of them here.
His big eyes so dark they’re nearly black, are right in front of me, the brown hair, lighter than my husband’s, the wide mouth.
We walk together. I hope none of the ladies of Port Royal who believe I have been in deep mourning for my husband all this time see me with two French soldiers and think I have sold myself like some kind of baggage.
James, to my surprise, is in his study downstairs.
“How?” I ask Father,
“I helped him. He wanted to be settled by the time you returned.”
I motion for Jack to follow me.
“Will, you have to stay here”, I say. “Jack will fill you in.”
Will just nods but Jack smiles.
I will not have him face down his old rival in this condition unless he wants to.
I knock and James says, “Come in.”
I swing the door open and it’s a shock to see him in his study like this, as if nothing happened, as if it’s as normal as could be, like any other day.
I usher Jack into the room and I feel James fighting to look me in the eye, but I prevent it.
“I promise you can know later, but for right now…” he begins, looking right at me. It’s so hard not to meet his gaze.
“Do what you want to do, James”, I answer and I feel more than see his face fall.
James, Father and Jack are cloistered in his study and there is nothing to do but sit with Will in the parlor. Cook has brought tea. Well this is certainly comfortable.
“How have you been?” we both ask at once and I laugh. Will is still too unsure of himself.
“You go first”, I say.
“No, no, you…” he insists.
“I’ve been busy. At the beginning, he had to leave a lot. Then…I’ve been doing this ever since”, I say.
“I’m so sorry”, he says, “I’m so sorry for your loss.”
My loss? I attribute it to Will never knowing what to say in polite society.
“He’ll be fine”, I say and it’s more for myself than him.
“So many have died”, he says, “So many. I think there are more Navy men and Marines now dead than were alive 6 months ago.”
Is this meant to make me feel better?
Will is full of news. He tells me about all the fun he’s had with Jack. How they have sailed all around the Caribbean and back. I wish it wasn’t envy flooding through my veins.
Now they have received permission from the King to be privateers, so they will only take French ships. I must admit to great relief that neither of them will now find themselves at the end of a noose.
But I know Jack. As soon as this war is over, he’s back to being Jack.
Hours pass this way.
We make small talk of the weather, the sea. And we wait.
The men come out of the study talking and walk into the parlor. James’s gait is wobbly and unsteady but he still walks. I can see how painful it is for him. I know the instant James sees Will.
“Apparently you have company, Elizabeth”, he says.
Will jumps to his feet. I see James touch the wooden leg knowing he cannot jump to his feet any longer. God I hurt for him.
“Commodore”, Will says with an inclination of his head.
“Mr. Turner”, James says, looking and sounding unamused.
“Elizabeth did not mention you were out here. I apologize for my manners”, James adds.
“Not at all. We were talking about what we’ve been doing”, Will says.
I know he didn’t intend it, but damn him.
“I haven’t been doing much”, my husband says.
“Recovery is the hardest work possible”, I say not even looking at him.
“Elizabeth is right”, Father says, and thank God for him, walking into the parlor and sweeping the attention to himself.
“Cook is preparing something special. Come on, everyone, a full stomach never hurt anyone”, Father says.
For the first time, I meet James’s gaze and his green eyes are full of questions. I can hear them in my head. Why did you run away? Are you not proud of me? Are you still angry with me? Can you understand why I need to do this? Why didn’t you tell me about Will? Do you think me too weak to face him? Now that he’s here and I’m recovering, have things changed?
Are you leaving me?
I walk over to James so he can offer me his arm just like old times. He offers it with pride despite the worries clouding his vision.
I squeeze his arm and he responds by tucking my arm tighter against his side.
We have to go very slowly and out of respect, everyone else walks at the same tempo. With a grimace, he pulls out my chair. I want him to sit down.
How on earth is he going to take up active command in this condition?
I seem to realize for the first time that the leg doesn’t bend. He has to basically fall into the chair, the wooden leg stretched out. How on earth did he get down the stairs? Father did more than help him, he came close to carrying him. James is such a proud man. He had to meet the others on two feet in his own study like a commander would.
How on earth Father procured beef is a mystery that will never be solved, but the meal is sumptuous.
“Had I known you had such fine victuals in your kitchen, I would have sailed this way before”, Jack says. He actually manages to use a knife and fork.
Father is clearly put out by his presence but still acts the host. “Thank you”, he says shortly.
Jack smirks. He’s always loved to make people feel uncomfortable, the more elevated the person, the better.
James sits at the head of the table and I am way on the other end as the mistress of the house. My eyes don’t leave his face and I am shooting him daggers. He is fighting not to meet my glare but he does, every two minutes or so.
He’s not the only one who’s nervous. Will is so nervous, his hand shakes as he tries to get his fork to his mouth.
In fact our entire party seems to find it difficult to stomach the beautiful dinner and it’s really too bad. The only person without a care in the world is, of course, Jack. He smears butter on another roll with his thumb until I clear my throat loud enough that he takes a hint.
“Say, can you pass the potatoes again?” he asks, “Compliments to your cook.” Father is sorry to see his imported morsels gobbled up by the likes of Jack Sparrow.
When I see Will gag, I stand and declare the end of the meal. I don’t even call for dessert. Cook is crushed as is Jack.
While the food was nearly uneaten, the Brandy is drunk in great quantity. I even go through a few glasses myself and no one says anything about it.
When Father is in conversation with Will, who is forgiven it seems for stealing his daughter’s affections, I sit next to James.
“We need to talk”, I say.
He merely nods.
We are all sitting on pins and needles. After three glasses, I stand up, unable to take another moment.
“Am I allowed to know what’s going on here?’ I ask.
“Elizabeth, sit down”, Father says.
“I will not sit down. All of this was done behind my back. I will know what is going to happen”, I say.
James makes a painful move to get up, but to everyone’s surprise, Jack springs from his chair.
“Let me”, he says, waving everyone off. He takes my arm and we walk away.
We go all the way to the outdoor kitchen. He has allowed me to scream my lungs out if I wish and I am grateful to him.
“What the hell is going on?” I ask. I swore I wouldn’t cry, not now, but the tears are coming already.
“Now, now, Lizzie, everyone knows their job and knows it well. In a few days we begin to reclaim the Caribbean. It won’t happen over night.”
“My husband is going into battle isn’t he?” I ask. God, how I want to hear an answer other than the one I’m going to get.
“Yes”, he says. “We haven’t always seen eye to eye, the Commodore and me”, he says, “Still can’t forget those irons”, he adds, rubbing his wrists for good measure.
“But it’s hopeless without him”, he adds.
“He’s still so weak. How will you get him out of the harbor unnoticed?” I ask.
Jack pats my back. “Never thought I’d see the day, Lizzie”, he says with a smile.
“What?” I am enraged.
“It’ll come to you”, he says in one of those moments when Jack seems as wise as the oracle.
“Please tell me what’s going on…” I whisper.
“We’re getting him out on the Pearl. He’ll be dressed as a merchant in case we’re discovered. Half the Royal Navy lies not far off the coast. Thankfully the fucking French haven’t detected them yet. If the Navy can’t come to the Commodore, the Commodore is going to the Navy”, he says.
“How will he even get on the ship?! What if he can’t climb a rope?” I’m crying again.
“He’s strong, Elizabeth. His men will have something ready for him. Oh, I wish you could be there to see it, Lizzie. They are adrift, but wait until they see their commander again”, he says. I certainly never thought Jack would speak this way about James. They seemed sworn enemies such a short time ago.
“The Dauntless?” I ask.
“Was there any doubt? No one can command that ship like he can. They’re like one. Slower than some, but steady and impossible to break, hard as a rock, that’s your husband.” I nearly laugh. If he only knew.
“What of the rest of you?” I ask.
“Your father is going with us as far as the Queen Margaret, a frigate headed for England”, he says.
“Father…leaving?” I cannot believe it.
“He can return when this is finished. Will, who felt uncomfortable with my task, is going to Captain the Pearl.”
“You’re giving up command of your ship?” Another shock.
“Strange, ain’t it? But Will knows her as well as I do now. The Pearl will meet up the Navy and lend assistance.”
“Your task?” I ask, “You were always a man who would rather switch than fight.”
“Hence the fact that I’m not”, he says. I want to throttle him. He’d send my broken husband out there and not fight himself?
“And what is your task?” I grit out.
“In the Commodore’s eyes, the most important of all. To take care of you.” He taps me on the end of my nose.
“I don’t need to be taken care of!” This is unbelievable. James needs to be taken care of, not me. I say as much to Jack.
“That’s where you’re wrong, Lizzie”, he says. “He’s as strong as he ever was. You can’t go on treating him like a child. This day had to come eventually.”
“Why now?”
“It’s nearly too late. If we don’t act soon, all the islands around here will go. The Caribbean will be lost to the Crown.”
“Fuck the Crown!” I cry.
“Now Elizabeth, that’s treason”, he says but laughs. He has even less respect for authority than I do. James was the only one who ever cared about that.
“I don’t need you to take care of me”, I say.
“You do. I know you’re a tough girl, Lizzie, I’ve seen you in action. But this will get harder. Full fledged war will break out. La Loup will realize James has been here all the while. He’ll probably be too focused on the Navy to come after you, but you never know. As you get closer to having the…” He can’t seem to say the word “baby” like it tastes bad in his mouth. “You’ll need someone. That’s where I come in!” He’s Jack again.
“And I have strict orders…fuck I hate that word…to get you out of here immediately to meet your father in London if…things don’t go as planned”, he adds.
“If things don’t go as planned?! You say you know I’m a tough girl, so tell me the truth, Jack. You mean if my husband is killed.”
“Yes”, he says.
“I hate you, I hate all of you. I wish to God I’d never met you Jack. I wish to God James had never proposed. I’d be a blacksmith’s wife! I’m sorry I married him. I’m sorry I ever fucking met him. I should have jumped from the battlements that day as I planned. You and me and Will would be sailing around the world right now.”
“Do you think he needs to hear that right now?” he asks and tries to take my arm.
“Let go of me!”
“You can curse and scream and rail at me all you want. I’m kind of used to it. You can turn your wrath on me, I probably deserve it. But don’t rage at him with words you don’t mean. You don’t send a man off to battle that way, Lizzie.”
“You mean you don’t send a man off to his death that way”, I say.
He grabs my arm but I rip it out of his grasp.
“Tell him, lass, tell him before he goes”, he says.
“Tell him what?! That I don’t want him to go? That he’s going to get out there and stumble and fall? That he won’t be able to get that leg on in time if they’re attacked and he’ll just lay there unable to move when they board and find him and run him through? That he won’t be able to get out of the way in time and get his head blown off with a cannon ball?”
He pats my back in rhythmic strokes. “Shhh…” he says, “Tell him. Put your pride away and say the words. You’ll be glad you did.”
I hate him.
I’ve been sitting in our bedroom for half an hour trying to calm myself before James walks in.
“Sparrow told you?” he asks quietly.
“Captain Sparrow”, I say.
His lips curl ever so slightly.
“Please understand, Elizabeth, I can’t let other men fight my battles for me”, he says.
If I speak I will say some of those things Jack told me not to say.
“Good-night, James”, I say.
James:
“You’re leaving? Why? Mr. Turner?”
She shoots me a look that says I stabbed her through. She slams the door on her way out.
Why did I say that? I had not meant to say that.
She does not come back. How I longed to see pride on her face when she saw me standing. But there was only fury.
I read for hours. No Elizabeth.
Then there is a knock on the door.
“Elizabeth!”
“No sir”, Estrella says as she comes in. “Miss Elizabeth…Mrs. Norrington sent me here to help you. And to tell you she’s sleeping in the guest bedroom down the hall.”
“I don’t need your help”, I say.
“But Miss Elizabeth…”
“I don’t need your help!” She flies from the room and I’m instantly sorry I frightened her.
I pull off my pants, then shrug out of my shirt.
I remove the leg, tied around my thigh and fastened around my waist and it falls to the floor with a sickening thud.
I scoot back into the bed. This is the first night she hasn’t helped me.
Hours pass. I could not sleep if my life depended on it.
“Dammit!”
I reach around on the floor for the blasted leg. I put it on and try to tie it in place. This is going to a pain the ass getting it on and off. But I have to learn to do this myself.
It’s not as the doctor affixed it and I can barely stand. But I will if it kills me.
When I’m on two feet, though one is not my own, I cross to the door and open it.
God almighty it’s a long way down the hall.
Finally I come to the door where she is sleeping and knock.
No response, but I hear sobbing and ragged breath on the other side of the door. I open it slowly.
My wife is there racked with sobs, shaking.
“Elizabeth, you must calm yourself. You could hurt yourself. You could lose the baby.”
She says nothing, but continues to twist the sheets.
If I didn’t know better…but I do. Elizabeth does not return my feelings. Elizabeth never returned my feelings. But I certainly did not expect this reaction.
“Elizabeth, you must understand….”
She can’t get her breath. I have to calm my wife anyway I can.
Tomorrow there will be a war between us. There will be words spoken. Hard words.
But not tonight. Tonight there is nothing left to say.
I make it to the bed and remove the leg and it falls to the floor again with a thud. At this, she only sobs louder. She lies on her stomach, trying to crawl again from me.
I rub circles on her back. “Shhhh….darling. You must calm yourself.”
I have to calm her and I turn her over. She’s too weak to fight.
“Arms up”, I whisper and she obeys me. I pull the nightgown over her head.
“Spread your legs for me, angel.”
She can’t do it so I do it for her. “That’s good, that’s right sweetheart.”
It is hard to find a position that works, but I lick up her thighs, closer and closer until my tongue meets her.
She jumps with the unfamiliar sensation, but still cries like a baby.
I lathe her with my tongue over and over again. She jumps with a cry as an orgasm rips through her. She cries and moans and sobs at the same time. In fact, she’s trapped between two opposite emotions and refuses to let either of them go.
I go down on her again and she responds again but nothing I can do will stop her tears. In fact the harder she cries, the harder she comes.
She is finally down to little whimpers, having exhausted herself. Only then do I move into the right place and enter her.
She moans and then instinctively moves against me. We make love again and again and still she says nothing. Still the last of her tears run down her cheeks.
Then I look closely. Her breathing is deep and heavy. She’s finally fallen asleep.
I cuddle her from behind, but I cannot sleep myself. Every so often she wakes herself with a jolt, the kind that happens when someone dreams of falling. When she jerks, I just hold her tighter.
As the jolts pass through her I wonder whether it is pain or pleasure or a mixture of both that shakes her. I suppose I will never know.
Only then do I kiss her cheeks and eyes, inflamed and red.
I will not be here for her pregnancy. I will not be here to see her body change, to hold her when she’s scared, to support her during the birth. I fact, I probably will not be back to see my child take their first steps.
I know there is a chance, a good chance, I will never see my wife again and will never see my child at all.
I put my hand on her tummy, already starting to round just slightly. It may be my only chance.
God in heaven.
Morning comes and wait for her to wake. She does, looking sleepy and mussed and absolutely beautiful. She locks her brown eyes, which look even more enormous from her sobbing, right on mine.
The hatred is back.
The war may have been going on for months. But I know the one between us is about to begin.