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The Sacking of Port Royal
by TortugaBlack

CHAPTER 2: The Invitation

Elizabeth Swann stood before the open window of her rooms, looking out at the bay bathed in early morning mist, the veiled sun already warm and promising a beautiful day with clear skies. Small colorful birds flew past her window to land in the trees surrounding the estate, their melodious song welcoming the day to those awake to hear it. For the young woman it was a rare experience. As daughter to the island’s governor there was little call to rise so early when most nights found her up late attending or hosting affairs of state for her father. This morning was different.

Her cheeks flushed with excitement she turned from the pleasures of the open window and hurried to the side of her four-poster, reached for the bell cord and gave it an impatient tug. A moment passed and she pulled it again. Assured that Estrella would soon arrive to help her dress, Elizabeth grabbed up a silver-backed brush from her dressing table and busied herself with the snarls and tangles from her night’s sleep. Her maid was young and, except for being sometimes too bold with her questions and comments, was always well versed in the latest under-stairs gossip and more than willing to do whatever Elizabeth asked of her. This morning Elizabeth planned to make use of both.

Standing at her vanity, her back to the bedroom door, Elizabeth frowned as the brush hit another snarl. A soft knock and she shifted her attention to the vanity mirror. “Come.” The door opened, reflected in the mirror, and Elizabeth smiled at the look of surprise followed quickly by amused interest on Estrella’s face as she entered, the look quickly replaced with one of concern. “Miss…are you ill? It’s uncommon for you to be up at such an early hour…”

“I assure you I’m quite well, Estrella. Would you…?”

“Begging your pardon, miss…” Estrella hurried to her mistress’ side. “Here, sit yourself down and let me do that.”

Elizabeth relinquished the brush and, once seated before the mirror, watched with pleasure the sure, even and careful way the maid worked through the sun-touched ringlets. “It’s a beautiful morning, miss. The breeze gentle and sweet smellin’.”

“Yes, yes is it, ” Elizabeth murmured, catching her breath as the brush pulled at still another stubborn tangle.

“Sorry, I be, miss.”

“It’s all right.” Elizabeth stared into the mirror her attention on the maid’s face. “Has there been any word of the Dauntless?”

“Mister Darling made a trip to the docks just this morning, miss. He said a merchant ship docked before dawn with word of seein’ the Dauntless a fortnight ago in the straits, making good time.” Estrella brushed the shiny hair into long ringlets, swept it all up, off her neck, and pinned it high, out of the way.

Elizabeth allowed herself a conspiratorial smile. “And Charles…Mister Darling…is he back?”

“Oh, yes, miss. He’s been back some time now. Will ye be needing him?”

“Yes.” She reached into the drawer of the table and slowly, hesitantly drew out a small envelope, held it for a moment, then closed the drawer with a determined push and turned to face the young maid. “While I ready for the bath, Estrella, please take this to Charles. Instruct him to have a runner deliver it at once to the blacksmith shop and put it personally into Mr. Turner’s hand.” Elizabeth held to the envelope as her maid’s hand closed on it. “Remember, he is to give it to no one but Mr. Turner. Understand?”

“Yes, miss. Only to Will Turner.”

“Now go quickly, then hurry back and help me dress.”

“Yes, milady. Right away.”

Estrella laid the brush down and turned towards the door, then hesitated. “The forge fires have been burning late at the blacksmith shop these few nights, miss. Must be important work Mister Turner be doing.”

Elizabeth sucked in a surprised breath. “Is that so?” She immediately turned away in hopes of hiding her interest. “Hurry, Estrella, I would like to bathe as soon as you’ve given my message to Charles.”

“Yes, miss, at once. I had the water put on when you rang, I’ll have it sent up right away.” She hurried from the room, closing the door softly behind her.

Elizabeth drew a deep breath. She knew, as Estrella would, that Charles Darling always chose the early morning to walk the front gardens with the groundskeeper while they discussed the management of the estate. Inside, Martha Darling, his wife and manager of the household, would be in the kitchen, planning the day’s meals, the household’s needs and the day’s cleaning schedule. If all went well, Estrella would deliver her message to Charles and be back before Martha had any inkling of her plans.

Loving children but having none of his own, Charles Darling had developed a father’s love for the young mistress of the household and it hadn’t take long for Elizabeth to learn the power she held over the men in her life: the gentle estate manager and her own father, Governor of Port Royal. In the past the men had frowned on her independent leanings and her oft times unacceptable behavior for a woman of her class, but they had always been quick to forgive and, thankfully, to forget. She had long known Martha Darling was not so easily manipulated.

At the sound of another knock, her bedroom door opened to a small slender kitchen maid, who entered, her back bowed under the weight of two steaming buckets of water. “Your bath water, milady.” Giving her mistress a shy smile, the girl, barely into her teens, struggled past the rumpled bed and into the screened off area of the room where she emptied the buckets carefully into the porcelain tub.

Finished she gathered up the buckets, gave Elizabeth another shy smile and a quick bob of her head and left the room, leaving the door open as a breathless Estrella pushed past and bustled in, fresh towels over her shoulder and a fragrant bar of French soap in her hand. Once inside she nudged the door closed with the toe of her shoe.

“Is a runner on his way?” Elizabeth asked, anxiously.

“Oh, yes, milady. Mister Darling is seein’ to it his own self.”

Elizabeth caught her breath. “What?”

“Mister Darling, miss. He’ll be taking your message his very own self.”

Elizabeth groaned. Martha was sure to miss her husband before he returned.

“Come, miss, your bath will be gettin’ cold. I’ve brought a new bar of that soap you like so well.”

Following Estrella into the screened off area, Elizabeth gave herself into the girl’s hands and said a silent prayer that her plans had not suddenly gone awry. “You mentioned that the forge fires have been burning late…?” She stepped into the bath now cooled to her liking.

“Yes, miss. I was talking to one of the runners just this morning.” Estrella warmed a washcloth in the bath water, rubbed it generously with the French soap and began washing Elizabeth’s back. “Being a bit curious, he’d asked around. Seems Mr. Brown has had young Mister Turner working on all the military repairs and refits to the Dauntless since that horrible fight with those pirates, getting the ship ready for her voyage. Rumor has it Commodore Norrington asked for Mr. Turner personally to do all the ironwork.”

“Did he?” Elizabeth breathed through clinched teeth, convinced there was more involved in the request than Will’s expertise as a smithy.

“Yes, miss. Freddie…Frederick Landsman…the runner, miss…he was saying how town folk have been a bit taken aback, you know, having learned that Mr. Turner’s own father was a pirate in these very waters.” Her tongue wagging to the strokes of the washcloth, Estrella happily prattled on. “There’s many in Port Royal, miss, who lost family to them who sailed under the black flag before the British Navy started hunting those what done such black deeds. They not be wanting to see a return of such rabble.”

Elizabeth closed her eyes to the harsh words spoken by her maid. Poor Will. He’d lived most of his life – as she had – in Port Royal. He had made a name for himself in his trade and had only months to go in fulfilling his apprenticeship to Mister Brown, the town blacksmith. It was so unfair.

“Surely the townspeople have known Will Turner long enough to know he’s no pirate,” Elizabeth interrupted indignantly.

“Oh, sorry, I be, miss, if I upset you. But you must be understandin’ how it was here before the commodore made it his mission to keep the picaroons from Port Royal’s shores. It was all brought back tenfold the night that Black Pearl sailed into our harbor.” Finished with the bath, Estrella held a towel for her mistress as Elizabeth stepped from the tub. Wrapped in the towel, Elizabeth returned to her dressing table while the young maid pulled the pins from her hair and again brushed it out.

“Many died during that attack, miss, and it was only by the grace of God and that brave Commodore Norrington that you were brought safely back to us. It’s even been rumored that those pirates were cursed.” Estrella’s eyes widened and her hands stilled for a moment, but not her tongue. “Not that many of us believed that…still it’s been said the ship – that Black Pearl – sailed in with the devil’s own wind in her tattered sails.” She shivered from the horror of her tale or the excitement of it.

Elizabeth smiled to herself.

“And then her showing up just when that horrible pirate went into the bay, helping him make his escape on the very day he was to hang.” Estrella shook her head in disbelief. “That was uncanny if you be asking me. And my young fellow…” She ducked her head in momentary shyness. “My Willie…he be one of the commodore’s Marines…he – he was there when that awful pirate grabbed you at the harbor and practically stripped you naked in front of all those men. I say, miss, hanging was too good for him.”

“Estrella!” The cold firm voice stopped the young maid’s tirade, leaving her speechless for the first time since she had entered the room. “I believe you’re needed in the kitchen. I will help Miss Elizabeth finish dressing.”

“Yes, ma’am. At once, ma’am,” Estella answered softly, keeping her eyes averted from the older woman dressed in severe black, who had stepped, unnoticed, into the room behind her.

“There has been gossip enough for one day, Estella. I will expect you to be seen and not heard until your chores are done.”

“Yes, ma’am.” Estella backed to the door and quickly let herself out.

“Martha, you’re too harsh with her, ” Elizabeth admonished with a sigh. “She has so few girls her own age to talk to and I enjoy her company.”

“She is a servant, Elizabeth, and it is not her place to speak so freely to a woman of your class. I shall have to have a word with her.”

“I believe you just did, ” Elizabeth Swann said ruefully, thankful that her father was not in residence to hear of Estella’s wagging tongue. He had forbidden such free-spoken gossip and would not have been pleased with the subject of this morning’s conversation.

“Would you like me to select a gown for you?” Martha Darling stood behind her; her stern disapproving expression stared at her from the dressing table mirror.

“Yes, please,” Elizabeth replied. “Something cool. It’s going to be another hot day.”

The housekeeper glided past the dressing table, the swish of her heavily starched petticoats an echo of her disapproval. Elizabeth stiffened with expectation. Something had brought Martha Darling to her rooms and she knew the housekeeper well enough to know that Martha would not be long in addressing the matter.

Relishing the brief calm before the anticipated storm, Elizabeth rose, crossed to her bed, and quickly stepped into her undergarments laid out by the chambermaid who had straightened her room while she bathed.

Mrs. Darling returned with a frock of lightweight linen and lace. “I understand you sent a missive to the blacksmith shop this morning.”

“I did.” Elizabeth paused as the older woman gathered the dress carefully in her experienced hands and dropped it over her head. Smoothing the dress with her hands, she waited while Martha pulled the laces snug and motioned her again to her dressing table. Once more seated Elizabeth watched the woman in the mirror as Martha set about dealing with the thick tresses of sun-stroked curls that cascaded about her mistress’s shoulders.

“May I ask the intent of such a missive, young lady, that could not wait until your father’s return?”

“It was an invitation,” Elizabeth answered boldly. She caught the housekeeper’s attention in the mirror. “To Will Turner. I’ve not seen him since the day…”

“…That awful pirate escaped, ” Martha finished for her. “Ah, child, what am I to do with you?” She shook her head, reaching for a wayward strand of hair. “As if there aren’t enough tongues wagging over you and Mister Turner’s deeds and misdeeds involving that horrible pirate, now you would have them wagging over a meeting between the two of you during your father’s absence.” She smoothed the hair away from Elizabeth’s face and drew it back, holding it tightly while she fashioned ringlets with the brush. “It’s a wonder Commodore Norrington would still be interested after such unlady-like behavior.”

“He’s not,” Elizabeth murmured through tightly clinched teeth. “He understands where my heart lies and has graciously stepped aside.”

“Those were words spoken in the excitement of the moment,” Martha Darling scolded her in gentle disapproval. “The commodore, being older…more mature…understands how a young woman’s heart can be swept away by the heat of…adventure. And he has generously asked that he be allowed to call on you again once he returns from his current trip. Your father has agreed.” Martha looked up to meet Elizabeth’s eyes reflected in the mirror. “And you, milady, are fortunate that he is willing to overlook some of your most recent behavior.”

“Commodore Norrington is a fine man,” Elizabeth spoke to the image in the mirror. “But he understands that Will Turner and I have pledged…”

“No vows have been exchanged, Elizabeth, and with the rumors being spread about both Mr. Turner – and you – I might add, there are not likely to be.” Martha returned her attention to the coiffure. “Before he left your father spoke to Mr. Turner and asked that if he truly cared for you he would not bring more attention to your misdeeds by assuming that he is welcome in this house. I’m sure if he thinks himself a gentleman, he will abide by your father’s wishes.”

“Mister Turner will come at my invitation,” Elizabeth spoke with an assurance. She sought to catch the older woman’s gaze in the mirror. “And upon his arrival, Martha, I ask that he be afforded the respect of any guest invited by a member of this household.”

Martha Darling fell silent as her hands pushing a strand of hair neatly into place. “You are determined to disregard your father’s wishes on this matter?”

“I am.” The young woman’s eyes sparkled with fight.

“Oh, child,” Martha sighed. “Always so headstrong. You realize I will have no recourse but to speak of this matter with your father upon his return.”

“I understand, Martha, and I know you mean well. You have always had my best interests at heart,” Elizabeth admitted, feeling the first prick of guilt at pulling rank on a woman who had been the only mother she’d ever known. “But as head of household until my father’s return, on this I must insist.”

The two women locked glances within the mirror. It was the elder who dropped her gaze. Falling silent, her expression grim, Martha forced the tight ringlets into their proper place high on the young woman’s head, allowing only a few small silken strands to lightly caress her neckline.

“Elizabeth, I watched your father indulge you with the fantasies of your childhood and your fascination with pirates thinking it ill-advised at the time.” She looked up from her handiwork. “When that unfortunate boy was almost killed at sea, I thought that would awaken you to the realities and horrors of the pirate presence in these waters. Instead it seems to have inflamed your passion. Now we find that poor boy’s own father was a pirate and I cannot help but think it’s that reason…and that reason alone…that you have been drawn to him.”

Martha stepped back to examine the coiffure. Satisfied she looked up, hands on her hips, her eyes filled with concern. “It’s time to grow up, Elizabeth. Time to put away such fantasies. Mister Turner is a fine young man. But he’s not for you. It would break your poor father’s heart to see you continue down this road. I beg you think of that before you take another step towards a life you will certainly regret.”

Turning on her heel Martha Darling walked to the door. “Your breakfast is ready. I’ll have it sent up.” She let herself out, closing the door quietly behind her.

Angry with herself for the harsh words spoken to the older woman, Elizabeth sighed. She could not take back what was no longer hers…her heart...her love. She had given both willingly and forever eight years before to that unfortunate boy pulled from the sea. Elizabeth swore in helpless frustration. Pirates, she assured herself, could have no more colorful vocabulary than a woman brought up in a household intent on making her a lady.