Sparrington Arc, Chapter 5

Trust And Honor

Act I: Saturday Afternoon

by

The Stowaway

"Mrs. Turner is in the parlor, sir."

Norrington set his hat on the hall table and smiled. "Thank you. I'll announce myself."

"Very good, sir."

He crossed to the parlor door as the maid returned to the back of the house. Children's laughter could be heard through the panels. He smiled again and went in, pausing on the threshold. Elizabeth was seated beside the open window, mending forgotten in her lap as she watched her daughters play. Little Eliza was clapping and giggling as her big sister acted out a story with great vigour and much noise. "...and then the pirates made them walk the plank," Sarah-Ann said, teetering dramatically. "And when they fell into the sea...," she lowered her voice to a stage whisper and Eliza's eyes went perfectly round, "they were eaten up by SHARKS," the last word emerging as a shout.

For a moment, all was still. Then several things happened at once. Eliza's face crumpled and she drew a preparatory breath, Elizabeth reached for the child and Norrington, hoping to forestall the impending tears, cleared his throat and took a step forward.

"Uncle James!" shrieked Sarah-Ann, dashing across the room with arms out and eyes alight.

Norrington caught her as she ran to him and swung her high while she squealed with glee. Her little sister, fright forgotten, scrambled to her feet and toddled towards them as fast as she could, calling "Unca Dames! Unca Dames!".

Setting the delighted girl back on her feet, James bowed formally. "Good afternoon, Miss Turner," he said.

Suddenly prim, but with a sparkle in her eye, Sarah-Ann made her curtsey, just as Eliza reached them, demanding, "Up! Up! Up!" and raising her pudgy arms.

Norrington obliged, making her giggle. "Well, Miss Eliza. Good afternoon to you."

"Children, remember your manners," their mother admonished, rising to relieve him of a protesting Eliza. "Give Uncle James a moment to catch his breath." She smiled up at him, settling the baby on her hip. "It's good to see you, James. Please, be seated."

Sarah-Ann tugged at his hand and he allowed himself to be led to the sofa. Elizabeth resumed her chair, with Eliza on her lap, but the child squirmed to get down. Elizabeth shook her head. "They are little hoydens, are they not? Their father spoils them; as do you, James."

But James only chuckled. "It strikes me, Elizabeth, that a bit of wildness might be, er, an inherited tendency, wouldn't you say? I seem to remember a little girl, rather older than your lovely daughters, who thought very poorly of lady-like behaviour, to the dismay of her governess." And his eyes twinkled as she laughed.

"Touché, you wretch. I think it unconscionably rude of you to have such a good memory for my failings, when there is so little with which I can reproach you in my turn." Catching his eye she murmured, dulcetly, "At least in front of the children," and smiled at his arrested expression.

Eliza, having escaped her mother, chose this moment to climb into his lap, providing a welcome distraction. He placed her on his knee, and she immediately began to haul imperiously on his watch chain. He took his watch out, opened it and held it to her ear. She listened intently for a space and then held out her hands. He snapped it closed and let her have it, whereupon she busied herself turning it over and over, looking for the catch.

Meanwhile, Sarah-Ann, who had been standing this while at his other knee, reached the limits of her 5-year-old patience. Deeming it her turn at last, she placed a hand on his sleeve and said, seriously, "Uncle James, I have been thinking."

"About what, my dear?"

"When I am grown, I shall marry you," she announced, looking at him with her mother's brown eyes. "And then we can stay together always."

James gazed down at the earnest little face raised to his with such uncomplicated love and gently took her hand in his. Raising it to his lips he kissed it, saying softly, "I am inexpressibly honoured, Miss Turner, by your proposal. Perhaps we will speak of this again one day."

She giggled happily, bouncing on her toes. "That means 'Yes', doesn't it?"

"It means perhaps," smiled James, and he glanced at Elizabeth, who caught her breath at the stricken look that showed, for just an instant, in his eyes. Her hands clenched and she looked down.

Following his gaze, Sarah-Ann said blithely, "Oh, don't worry, Uncle James. Mama will allow me to marry you. She says you are a fine man."

Just at this moment the door opened and Will entered. Eliza tumbled from James's lap to run to her father, who scooped her up into a bear hug. James rose to greet him, returning his watch to his waistcoat pocket.

"Papa," Sarah-Ann cried, "I am going to marry Uncle James!"

"Are you, now?" asked Will, with a chuckle, "I think I should have a say in this, don't you?"

Will shook Norrington's hand. "Good day to you, James. What's all this about stealing my daughter, eh?" His eyebrow quirked. "Turned pirate, have you?" Elizabeth frowned and shook her head at him, but it was too late.

Before James could speak, Sarah-Ann clapped her hands and squealed. "Oh, yes, yes, please! Let us turn pirate, Uncle James! Please?" She took his hand in both of her own and looked up coaxingly with shining eyes. "We could go live on the Black Pearl with Uncle Jack."

There was a moment's dismayed silence, until Will gave a startled bark of laughter and Elizabeth gasped, "Sarah-Ann Turner! What will you say next?"

James was, surprisingly enough, the first to recover his poise. Resuming his place on the sofa, he drew the puzzled child to him and explained with aplomb. "You see, Sarah-Ann, that would never do. For who would stay at home with your Mama and Papa and be respectable?"

Sarah-Ann's mouth turned downward and her lower lip thrust out in a scowl. "I don't want to be respectable," she declared, stamping her foot. "Respectable people never have any adventures."

Then it was James's turn to laugh. "You might be surprised, my dear." He cocked an ironic eye at the elder Turners, who had the grace to look uncomfortable.

Sarah-Ann was not convinced and was preparing to argue her case with the dogged persistence bequeathed her by both parents, when benign Providence intervened in the shape of Nurse, who came to summon the children to their supper. In the ensuing bustle, the subject was allowed to drop.

Later, as they lingered comfortably over their own dinner, Elizabeth sat thinking. James and Will were deep in conversation, wrangling amicably over the finer points of the art of fence. They had quite forgotten her presence, she realized, with fond amusement. It was lovely to see James so animated and happy. She thought again of the pain she had seen in his eyes earlier—that one, unguarded glance—and her heart contracted. She wanted to banish that pain, for which she felt, in some measure, responsible. But how?

His first dinner with them (and she blessed Will for giving that invitation) had quickly become a standing engagement; weekly visits that were a pleasure to them all. She had come to esteem him more than ever, to love him as a friend. The girls adored their "Uncle James", who smiled so sweetly and won their hearts when he spoke to them gravely, as if they were quite grown up. And he and Will each genuinely liked and respected the other; which was hardly a foregone conclusion, considering events of the not so distant past. (It had not taken her long to get the whole story of that night on the Pearl from Will. He had been rather shocked, the darling, at her insistence on hearing all the details, but her reaction to the tale had been ardent enough to banish his qualms.) It would have been so easy for them to avoid each other, allowing awkwardness and embarrassment to grow into antipathy, but they had chosen instead to become friends. That was Jack's influence at work, she supposed. Jack, the other piece to this puzzle; who bent and shattered social conventions with a touch and could make the most outrageous behaviour seem just and reasonable. Well, Jack may have bent James's convictions, she thought, but he hasn't broken them, not yet. And that fact might still come to be the ruin of them both.

James, she thought, wanted shaking up. He was becoming too set in his ways. This didn't prevent him from being a formidable naval tactician, when the need arose, or from being a most able and respected leader of men, of course. But it kept him from looking at the world with quite the sense of possibility required of a man in his situation. What was it the philosophers said? Ah yes, question your assumptions. James needed to question his assumptions; to take stock of his life and give thought to the future. She believed she saw a way to help him do just that.

Smiling, she took a sip of wine and the motion caught Will's eye. He broke off in mid-sentence to smile back, saying, "Elizabeth, I forgot all about you." James burst out laughing as she shook her head and sighed dolefully.

"The fate of all wives, I believe, sooner or later. But hardly tactful of you to say so, Will. What will James think?" She chuckled as she rose, shaking out her skirts and they stood with her. "Shall we have tea in the parlor? You two bloodthirsty ghouls can talk about the baiser de la mort and other nasty tricks in comfort."

Seated behind the tea tray, she made the first step in her plan. "James," she said, "did Will tell you? We are going up to Somerset for a few days. Father has no time at present and someone must see to the improvements that are in hand. Would you care to join us? A chance to get away from town for a little. Do say you will."

James smiled. "An opportunity to get up into the hills is tempting, I must admit. When are you leaving?"

"Monday morning," Will said, "Riding up from Kingston. We'll be there in time for tea."

"Ah, Monday is a busy day for me. But the rest of the week is free of any pressing engagements. Would it be acceptable for me to join you on Tuesday; say, before dinner?"

"Tuesday would be lovely, James. We shall look for you then."

Shortly afterwards, James took his leave and the Turners retired. As they were preparing for bed, Will glanced over at his wife, seated at her dressing table, brushing her hair and humming softly. "Elizabeth, that's the Pirate Song," he said.

She smiled at him in the mirror. "Why, so it is. I hadn't noticed."

"You always hum that song when you are up to mischief," he said, a look of deep foreboding on his face. "Does this have anything to do with James visiting Somerset? And do I really want to know?"

At that she laughed softly. "All in good time, my love. I think I see a way to make James a happier man." She rose and went to him, slipping her arms round his waist and raising her face for a kiss. "But I shall do nothing without your approval. Does that satisfy you?"

"Considering that you can talk me into anything," he replied, lowering his mouth to hers, "it shouldn't, but let's pretend that it does."

Shortly after breakfast on Monday morning, the Governor's carriage drew up before the door and two very excited little girls watched impatiently as the footmen, overseen by Nurse, carefully bestowed their boxes in the boot. Elizabeth, dressed already in her burgundy riding habit, hugged them tightly. "Be good girls for Grandfather, now. Remember your manners."

"We will, Mama! Good bye!" cried Sarah-Ann, as they scampered down the walk to hug their father, who waited to hand them into the carriage.

"Bye-bye, Mama! Bye-bye, Papa!" shouted little Eliza, jumping up and down on the seat, until called to order by Nurse.

As the footman raised the steps and closed the door, Will spoke softly to John Coachman. "Take the long way 'round, will you? They so love the ride."

Old John touched his whip to his hat with a smile. "Oh aye, to be sure I will, Sir. His Excellency give me orders a'ready, plain as plain. 'John Coachman,' sez he, 'you take the young ladies for a proper ride,' he sez. And so I shall, Mr. Turner, never fear." And he gave the horses the office to start as the footmen swung up behind, and Will stepped back to wave good-bye.

Elizabeth joined him just as the coach and its ecstatic occupants turned the corner. "I hope they don't drive Father quite distracted with their noise."

Will grinned. "Not likely. Your father is no fool, Elizabeth. He did declare his library off-limits to children, remember. When he has had his fill, he will retreat in good order and let Nurse deal with our imps. Now then, are you ready to set out?"

"Nearly so. Let me go see what Cook has put up for our nuncheon, and I will be with you directly."

A few minutes later the Turners—Will carrying a leather satchel with provisions—walked briskly down to the quay and engaged a waterman to ferry them over to Kingston, whither their horses had been sent round the day before to await them. Shortly after midday, they were on the road into the hills.

The ride up to the plateau where lay Somerset Plantation was a pleasant one. The road climbed the steep, tree-clad slope in leisurely fashion, switchbacks laid back and forth across the hillside, making the grade an easy one for the horses to manage. As they climbed, they caught glimpses through the trees of the whole of Royal Harbour laid out below them; Kingston in the foreground, with Port Royal and the fort beyond. They set an easy pace to spare the horses in the heat. There was no reason to hurry. After about two hours, they stopped to eat. Seated on a log at the edge of the road, they shared the cold meat, rolls and apples, while admiring the view, which, at this altitude, comprised nearly 180 degrees of shimmering, blue horizon. Will reached into the bag for the wine and discovered they had no cups. Elizabeth raised her eyebrows and took a swig from the bottle, before handing it back to her husband with a grin. "Drink up, me hearties, yo ho," she murmured and he laughed.

A short rest, and they set out again. After an hour or a little more, they came in sight of Somerset. The plantation lay on a gently sloping plateau, backed by the Blue Mountains and open on the south to a view of the ocean. The Hope River ran down through it, neatly bisecting the property. The house, a handsome structure of local stone with a wide verandah, was set at the back of the plateau, on a shady knoll not far from the river bank. Leaving the road, they crossed the bridge above the mill-pond and cantered up to the house.

Before Will could call out, a little boy who had been on the watch dashed up to hold their horses, grinning with pleasure at being the first to welcome them. As they dismounted, the housekeeper bustled out of the front door, beaming and bobbing curtsies. "Welcome to Somerset, Miss Elizabeth," she cried, with the freedom of an old retainer, "or Mrs. Turner, I should say. And to you, Mr. Turner, sir. I declare, I was saying to Ward just the other day, 'You mark my words, we'll be seeing Miss Elizabeth before long, now that she's home again.' And here you are!"

Elizabeth laughed and took the old woman's hands in both of hers. "Here I am, indeed, Mrs. Ward. How have you been? And your husband is well?"

"Oh, I am as spry as ever, bless you for asking, Miss Elizabeth. But Ward does suffer a bit with the rheumatism; some days is worse than others."

"Not too quiet for you up here after all those years in town?"

Mrs. Ward laughed merrily. "No indeed, Miss! Ward and I are both country-bred, you know. It just suits us. Now then, the cart with your trunk arrived at midday. Your room is all prepared for you. Would you be wanting to rest yourself a bit after your ride, or would you like your tea?"

"You are very kind, Mrs. Ward," Elizabeth smiled, "but I am not at all tired.' She glanced at Will, who smiled. "I think I shall take a walk, to stretch my legs. Shall we say, tea in an hour?"

"Very good, Miss Elizabeth," Mrs. Ward bobbed another curtsey. "Tea on the verandah in an hour." And she bustled off, still beaming, to chivvy the cook.

Leaving her gloves, hat, and whip on the hall table, and looping the train of her habit over one arm, Elizabeth took Will's arm and together they walked slowly down the drive to the river. Turning left before the bridge, they wandered downstream, past the mill and through a narrow band of trees, until they had an unobstructed view south and west. They stood for a while in silence. From this height, the sea shone like watered silk, crinkled and motionless.

"I wish I'd thought to bring a spy-glass," she said at last. "One can see forever up here. I had forgotten how lovely it is."

"They will have one in the house, surely. Mrs. Ward will know."

Turning back toward the house, they strolled back up the bank of the stream, pausing below the mill. They stood for awhile, watching the ducks that bobbed in the overflow from the mill dam and guddled about the margins of the pool.

Out of the corner of her eye, Elizabeth watched her husband's face in the light of the westering sun. The bronze he had acquired at sea had faded somewhat, but enough remained to remind her of their long separation and the changes it had wrought. He had grown, her sweet Will. The rather boyish diffidence that had upon occasion exasperated her in the past was gone, replaced by a quiet and unassuming confidence. There was an air of self-knowledge about him now. And, as with his character, his person had changed as well. Gone was the sometimes coltish awkwardness. He moved with an assured grace entirely unconscious; his beauty was settling into classic lines. She felt herself a very fortunate woman indeed.

Drawn by her scrutiny, Will turned to her and smiled. "A penny for them," he said, as he drew her close.

Nestling a bit, she replied, "I love you."

"Do you, now?" His smile became a grin. "That's convenient."

Suspicious, she asked, "Convenient? In what way?"

His eyes sparkled and one arm swung wide and loose, fingers flickering, in strangely familiar gesture. "I was just thinking to myself 'Will, you lucky dog! Here you are, all alone with a right tasty armful. But are you clever enough to get under her skirts?'" The grin became a leer. "And now I find my work's done for me."

Elizabeth narrowed her eyes; pulled away from the distraction of hands teasing her nipples through her riding habit. "You... you insolent pirate! How dare you?" And she drew back her arm.

He caught her wrist, holding it firm as she struggled. His voice shook with laughter, but he managed to sound suitably fierce as he drew her to him. "And you've a taste for pirates, don't you, missy?" he growled. "It'll go easier if you don't fight me. Come, give me a kiss."

"Never," she spat, "I'd as soon kiss Jack." A gasp. "Jack the monkey! "

At that, Will did laugh. "Either can be arranged, if you insist," he said, scooping her up and throwing her over his shoulder, "but for now you'll have to make do with me." And he strode up the slope to the mill door.

She shrieked, kicking her legs and swatting at his back with ineffectual hands. "Will, put me down! Put me down this instant, you fiend!"

"Quiet, wench." He swatted her backside, ignoring her outraged yelp and her wriggling as he opened the door to the silent mill, and maneuvered his burden though the opening. Laughing breathlessly, Elizabeth hindered him as best she could by clinging to the door post, but it was a fruitless effort. Will kicked the door closed and deposited her onto a convenient heap of sacking. As she struggled to rise, tangled in her voluminous skirts, he stripped off his coat and dropped lightly down to pin her beneath him.

Panting, she glared up at him. His teethed flashed in the half-light as he grinned. "Now, sweeting, how about that kiss?" And he lowered his mouth to hers.

A moment she lay still; let him take it for surrender, she thought. As her mouth opened to his, he ran his tongue along her teeth, sucking on her upper lip, nibbling. She responded, tongue teasing and retreating. She sighed into his mouth and felt him smile. He relaxed his hold on her, shifted to bring a hand to her breast. Seizing the moment, she boxed his ears.

He reared back in astonishment, chuckling and shaking his head to clear the ringing. "You little vixen! " Moving up to pin her arms with his knees, he swiftly removed his neckcloth. "Drastic measures, darling." Grasping her wrists, he bound them firmly together. Stretching her arms above her head, he tied the other end to a nearby post and sat back, kneeling astride her thighs, to admire his captive.

She lay, taut and trembling, her pulse pounding so that it shook her body. When he licked his lips, she fought to stifle a whimper. And then he smiled, a lazy and lascivious curling of that delicious mouth. Insolence sat well on him, she thought.

He reached back and grasped the hem of her skirts. "Now then, to business, shall we?"

Will snorted. "Wife of my heart," he said, nibbling on her neck, "you are many things." He nipped at her earlobe and she gasped. "Beautiful," another nip, "intelligent," he kissed her temple, "brave," brought his free hand up to cup her face, "and oh-so-determined." He smiled into her eyes. "But you are not respectable."

"Wretch," she chuckled. "That makes two of us, then."

"And so it does," he smiled.

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