Sparrington Arc, Chapter 5

Trust And Honor

Act II: Tuesday

by

The Stowaway

"I think I shall take the mare over to the smithy this morning, Elizabeth, to see about that loose shoe on her off fore."

Elizabeth sipped her tea. "Can't the stable boy do it? Jenkinson will be here within the hour to go over the accounts and I'd hoped you would hear his report with me."

But Will just smiled and shook his head. "Best not, my dear."

Elizabeth put down her tea cup with a hint of a snap. Time to have this out. Will was just being stubborn; refusing to have anything to do with the management of the estate. "Father has trusted me to assist him with business since I emerged from the schoolroom. As my husband, I would expect you to help me with those duties, Will. Father..." She stopped as Will took her hand and placed a finger to her lips.

"Your father is the owner of Somerset Plantation; not you, and most especially not me," he said gently, smiling to take the sting from his words. "Its management and disposition is his alone. He has never sought my help by word or deed. And he has chosen to set up a trust so that our children will inherit it from him, with you and his solicitor as trustees. His meaning is tolerably clear, don't you agree?"

She shook her head. "Will, Father doesn't distrust you. It's just that he..."

"...that he is a man of his class," Will finished for her. "And he cannot quite rid himself of the notion that blood will tell. I do understand, darling, and, far from resenting his actions, I approve. He will never forget that my father was a pirate and has taken steps to assure that our children will not suffer if I should turn pirate as well."

Elizabeth caught her breath. It almost sounded as if Will meant to turn pirate. She felt a little shiver of fear brush her spine. She knew he loved her and their girls, but what if... what if someday the attraction of Jack and the Pearl became too much to resist?

Will kissed her fingers and played with her wedding band, turning it this way and that, watching it flash in the sunlight from the open window.

"Indeed, Elizabeth, your father has been kind to me. He has never shown me the least coldness or discourtesy. And yet, I often think how it must have galled him to see you 'throw yourself away' on a mere blacksmith."

At that, Elizabeth's chin came up and her eyes narrowed dangerously. "He could hardly have stopped me."

"Not forever," Will chuckled, "and not comfortably. But he could have made us wait until you were of age, you know, or caused difficulties about your income."

Elizabeth was silent. She knew he was right. Her father had hoped, up to the very day of the wedding, that she would change her mind; but he had countenanced her marriage and done his part to still the murmurs and gossip by being seen to approve his daughter's choice. And he had allowed her the full income from her mother's fortune during the three years until she had come of age and inherited outright. Not that Will would use the full income, she thought. Each quarter he would draw only a sum equivalent to his own earnings for the period; insisting that the balance was hers to spend as she would on herself and the children, but that the household expenses must be shared equally. Stubborn, stubborn man. And proud. And honourable. She sighed and smiled.

"Well, I think you are being over-scrupulous. But, despite what you may think, I know defeat when it kisses my fingers. Go along to the smithy and leave me to be bored half to death by the worthy Jenkinson. Will you be back in time to ride out with me this afternoon?"

He winked. "Indeed, why do you think I am so eager to fix the mare's shoe this morning?" Rising from the table, he leaned over to kiss her cheek. "At luncheon, then." And he strode out into the sunlight toward the stables.

He enjoyed his visits to the Turner home; had come to look forward to them as the high point of his week. The unaffected warmth and friendliness he found there was a balm to his sometimes melancholy spirit. And the children had quite won his heart with their prattle and their enthusiastic affection. He'd never known what to say to children to put them at their ease, but that was not a problem with Sarah-Ann or Eliza. Shyness was a thing unknown in their happy little world—every new acquaintance was seized upon with delight. But for all their liveliness, they were well brought up; he thought he could see the young ladies they would someday become and it was a charming picture.

Elizabeth and Will had a sure hand with their daughters. And that sureness sprang from their obvious love and respect for one another. They had weathered the crucial first years of their marriage in fine style (better, indeed, than he had expected) and were as much in love as ever. Endearing youngsters, they were, both of them. He sighed. For all he was only ten years their senior, he often felt three times that.

He thought of the dispatches that arrived recently from the Admiralty and sighed again. Despite his most persuasive arguments to the contrary, they were adamant: two of his five ships were to be decommissioned and his forces cut accordingly. War with Spain was over, France was once again an ally, and the pirate threat had been reduced to almost nothing. There was no longer a need, in these financially straitened times, they said, to maintain such a large contingent in the Eastern Caribbean, whither he was to remain with his diminished command. Request for re-assignment, he was told, would not be considered. The implication was clear. If he chose to resign his commission, that resignation would be accepted. He, once considered a rising star, destined for great things, was in semi-disgrace. Although the Court of Inquiry convened after the loss of the Interceptor had exonerated him of all guilt in the matter, it was evident that somewhere in the naval bureaucracy someone still held him responsible. It was the only black mark on an otherwise exemplary record in a career that now spanned over 20 years' service. Were it not for the fact that his father's second cousin had been First Lord of the Admiralty at the time of the inquiry, he doubted he would have any career at all.

Meanwhile, his orders were explicit. To complete the extermination of the pirates; sink the last of their ships, capture and hang the crews. Having now no war to distract him, the writer went on, with thinly veiled sarcasm, it ought to be a simple matter for him to take the Black Pearl and its Captain at last.

"This," James said to himself, with rather bitter irony, "sets me a difficult problem."

For more than five years he had lived a lie, his honour but a shell and semblance. On the day he had first put love before duty, he had become a sham. It was mere quibbling to argue that the crimes for which Jack was wanted were old. The law cared not for that.

And now, he would be forced to redemption and damnation in one act. And that act: the hanging of Jack Sparrow. Watching the body he knew as well as his own twitch and jerk at the end of a rope; hanging it up to rot at Deadman's Cay. He shuddered. Surely that would damn his soul even as it restored his honour. But the alternative was shame and public disgrace; the loss of even the appearance of honour. In truth, there was no escape from this trap; he was damned indeed.

He rode for some time quite oblivious to his surroundings, letting the horse set its own pace. The sunshine of the plateau, as he emerged from the trees, was a shock. He had not realized they had climbed so high. He sat straighter and urged the horse to a trot, eager to reach Somerset; to be among friends and escape his own thoughts for awhile.

Elizabeth hailed him as he rode into the stable yard. "Ah, my friend! You are come in the perfect hour; I need your assistance. Help me to convince my stubborn husband that it is as I say: there is nothing improper in this style of riding when out in the country." She laughed gaily and the mare, catching her mood, danced a little and arched her neck. "See? Juno here agrees with me; now, say you do as well."

James smiled at her mischievous expression and shook his head. "Elizabeth," he said, with a chuckle, "you have been out in the sun too long, I fear; it has affected your mind. Surely you cannot believe that I am quite such a fool as to step between a man and his wife?" He looked at Will, who grinned, shrugged and rolled his eyes wryly. "You must settle this dispute without me, if you please."

"Oh, unfair!" Elizabeth cried, tossing her head. "Is chivalry quite dead, then? A fine, courteous way to begin your visit, James. Refusing aid to a lady in distress is conduct most unbecoming an officer and a gentleman, you know. What would the Navy think?"

James winced a little at that, but rallied. "Ah, but the Navy is compounded entirely of men, my dear; many of whom have wives of their own to contend with—er—cherish." Will burst out laughing. "And so," James concluded, "would commend my good judgment and discretion."

"I bow to superior numbers, Master Rudesby, but concede nothing," Elizabeth chuckled. "You will not change my mind."

They dismounted and the grooms took charge of the horses. Walking up to the house, Elizabeth saw that James was troubled, but he wouldn't thank her for taking notice of what he clearly wanted to hide. Time enough, she thought.

Later, after dinner, as they strolled along the knoll in front of the house, watching the last of the light fade from the distant sea, Elizabeth said, "I should never tire, I think, of this view. So wide and so peaceful as it is."

Will assented but James was silent.

"You do not find it beautiful, James?" she asked.

"Incomparably lovely, Elizabeth," he replied, "but rather too much like a painting, don't you think? More a memory of the Sea, than the Sea herself. From up here you miss the essentials: the sound of the waves and the wind, the smell of salt, and, most of all, the constant movement." They walked on. "As if it were the world breathing beneath one," he added softly, to himself.

Elizabeth looked curiously at him, but was silent. Shortly afterward, they parted for the night.

Over breakfast next morning, they discussed plans for the day. Elizabeth had more business to attend to with Jenkinson, she said, ruefully.

"But today should be the last of it, I expect," she said. "After this, I hope I shall be quite at liberty. I am sorry to leave you to Will's tender mercies, James." And she laughed at her husband's indignant snort.

"Waste no worry on me, Elizabeth," James smiled, "I am easily entertained." He turned to Will. "How is the fishing hereabouts?"

"It's not too bad, truly," Will replied. "There is a spot a short way upstream, a riffle just below the falls, that gives good sport. But, if you are of a mind for something a bit more strenuous, there is a cave I have long wished to visit, up in the hills above the Latham place."

"Oh Will, not that dreadful cave!" Elizabeth cried.

"But, my dear, it is the perfect opportunity," He turned to James. "That is, if you are willing to join me. Elizabeth detests caves and does not wish me to go into this one alone."

"I have had quite enough of caves to last me the rest of my life, I thank you. And of course I don't wish you to go alone. Caves are dangerous." she shuddered.

"Well, now you have piqued my interest," James said. "I will go with you, Turner, to keep you out of mischief." This with a raised eyebrow in Elizabeth's direction.

"I expect you two will have a wonderful time, poking about that nasty place." She shook her head. "Suddenly, spending the morning going over accounts with the steward sounds almost inviting."

They had with them, for their expedition, a number of things: lanterns, a coil of stout rope, provisions for lunch, and a torch that Will had insisted upon bringing. He grinned mischievously and refused to answer when James asked him why they would need it when they had the lanterns. James, amused by his schoolboy demeanor, did not press him.

Will was in high spirits at the prospect of seeing the cave at last. He snapped his fingers at Elizabeth's trepidation. "It is not as if the place is likely to be used by smugglers or pirates," he laughed, "not this high up. That would be completely impractical. If it were, you may be sure I would have no interest in exploring it; the Isla de Muerta was more than enough of that sort of cave for me, I thank you."

"Smugglers don't operate up here, then?" James asked.

"Well, if they do, no word has come to Somerset," Will replied. "I have never heard of a raid on any plantation, have you?"

"No," James shook his head, "the scum seem to work oftenest near the shore; stealing the puncheons and hogsheads as they are brought down to be shipped."

"And not even then, any longer," said Will, with a grin, "thanks to the tireless efforts of the Navy. You must have put them quite out of business by now, James."

"Not entirely, not yet. The larger gangs have been wiped out, to be sure. All that's left are a few stragglers; annoying enough, in their way. But we will soon lay them by the heels."

Will, looking at the grim expression on his friend's face, did not doubt it. "When that day comes, you will have the eternal gratitude of the planters and the waggoners. Their profits have suffered for years under the smugglers' depredations. Time was, armed guards were needed on every cart that rolled down this road. And now, trouble is rare."

James glanced at him, curiously. "You say 'their' profits, Will, as if you were not one of them."

"And so I am not," Will shrugged. "Oh, the Governor tolerates me well enough as a son-on-law, I grant you. He is a kind and generous man, and for that I am grateful. But he made it clear long ago that he wished me to have no part in the management of what will become my children's inheritance. Truly," he shrugged again, "it matters not."

James, watching the somber expression on the proud, young face beside him as Will rode in unwonted silence, staring straight ahead, thought that it did indeed matter. He smiled to himself. Stubborn as a mule, the boy was; a fit match for Elizabeth. He cleared his throat. "When was it that Governor Swann told you this, if you don't mind my asking? At the time of your marriage?"

"The day before. We met with his solicitor. There was all the paperwork about Elizabeth's income and her mother's fortune, which she was to inherit when she came of age, to be gone through. Afterward, he took me aside and explained that it was just to satisfy the legal forms—that, as Elizabeth's husband, I had a right to that much—but in practice nothing would change. He and Elizabeth would go on as before; managing the estate and his business interests without my help."

"Ah, but things have changed, haven't they?" James replied.

"How do you mean?" Will frowned.

"You have changed a great deal since then, Will. The Governor is a cautious man, where his daughter is concerned; it is natural that he would hesitate to let an inexperienced hand take control of any part of his fortune; her inheritance and that of her descendants. It is the same caution that led him to establish the trust for your children on the day Sarah-Ann was born. Think about it; when you married Elizabeth you were (forgive me) a rather callow boy, a journeyman blacksmith, working for poor drunken Brown. Since that day, you have gained your master rank and taken over the business when Mr. Brown died. Today you have two journeymen and two apprentices,"

"Three apprentices," Will interjected.

"Three, then, to keep up with the work. Turner blades are prized far and wide. You are a respected tradesman, a good husband and father. And, despite a slight," James coughed, "lapse into, er, privateering last year, a good and steady citizen. You have proven yourself a man to make any father-in-law proud."

Will shook his head. "Not the Governor."

"Indeed, you are mistaken; for he has told me so himself," James smiled.

"He has? Then why has he said nothing to me?"

"Has he not? Are you sure there has been no hint dropped, no sign of a change of heart? It may not be easy for him to acknowledge that he was, if not mistaken in you, then overcautious. Elizabeth gets her stubbornness from him, you know." James smiled. "Perhaps, then, it is for you to speak first," he suggested, "Until you do, how can he know you are willing to assume extra responsibility? He may believe you to be so wrapped up in your own affairs by this time that you care not for his. He may be unwilling to risk a snub."

Will frowned thoughtfully, but did not speak.

James continued, "You know he intends to return to England at the end of next year, do you not?"

Will nodded.

"I am tolerably sure he would welcome your help in setting his West Indian holdings in order. He would not want to leave Elizabeth in sole charge; it's too great a burden on one person and distracts her from the children. Ask him, Will. You may be pleasantly surprised at his answer."

"On the strength of your advice, James, I shall do so," Will replied, with a faintly skeptical smile, "but I shan't build any hopes on the outcome just yet."

"Fair enough," said James, "that's all I ask, that you give it a chance. Now, where's this cave of yours? Surely we should be nearly there."

Will grinned, more than willing to be done with serious subjects. "The trail leaves the road just around that next bend. We ford the river and then it's barely a half mile to the entrance. Come on, hurry!"

They had not gone very far up the trail before they began to hear sound of falling water. It grew louder by degrees until they passed out of the underbrush into an open glade on the bank of the river. To their left the ground fell away sharply and the rushing water fumed and foamed over boulders in a deep-cut channel, the line of which was rapidly hidden by the dense forest. To their right lay a boiling pool at the foot of a considerable fall that churned the water into milky jade. Ferns, damply emerald in the sunlight, danced in the spray at the upstream edge of the pool and grew up the mossy cliff wall beside the tumbling water.

James would have drawn rein to admire the scene, but Will forged ahead, guiding his horse into the ford just below the outflow of the pool and calling over his shoulder, "Come on! We can eat lunch here on our way back, if you wish."

Once across the river, the trees thinned and the trail became rockier, climbing steeply toward the cliff that loomed above the forest. Soon they emerged into sunlight at the foot of a talus slope. Will dismounted and began unpacking their gear. "We leave the horses here," he said. "The cave mouth is just at the top of this rock pile."

James stared up at the cliff, shading his eyes with his hand. He could make out a dark cleft in the rock face. Then he surveyed the steep incline that led thence, which seemed to be composed of loose rocks and boulders, ranging from gravel to waggon-sized. "This looks to be a treacherous climb. How do you propose getting to the top without bringing the whole thing down on us?"

"Oh, there's a path over that way," Will pointed to the right, where the talus curved back toward the cliff base. "Here, put these on." And he held out a pair of rough shoes, such as the stable boys wore for dirty work. "The floor of the cave is muddy, they tell me. Don't want to ruin your riding boots." The schoolboy grin was back.

"Will Turner," asked James, beginning to be suspicious, "what are you not telling me?"

"Upon my honour, nothing so very bad," Will declared, hand over his heart, face the very image of guileless innocence. "It's a surprise. Well, go on," he waggled the shoes, impatiently, "take your boots off."

James removed his boots and donned the borrowed shoes; curious now to see this "not so very bad" surprise of Will's. "I shall likely regret this," he sighed, "but I promised your wife I would keep you out of mischief, and I must attempt to do so. Lead on."

Will slung the rope over his shoulder and picked up the torch. Clipping one lantern to his belt, he gave the other to James, and led the way up the path to the cave mouth.

The opening, once they reached it after a short scramble, was larger than it had looked from below—a fact James found reassuring. It was about 8 feet in height and nearly 6 feet wide. Looking inside, he saw a smooth floored passage, leading slightly downward and to the left. A thick, pungent odor drifted outward, making him back away hastily. He glared at Will.

"Bats," he said, disgustedly, "A multitude of them, by the smell. Is this your 'surprise'?"

"In a manner of speaking," grinned Will. He took the lantern from James and set about lighting it. "Have you ever been inside a bat cave?"

"No."

"Nor I, but I've spoken to men who have. It's a wondrous sight," Will went on, "if you can get past the smell, of course."

James looked unconvinced. "You intend to subject yourself to that miasma?"

"Oh, I expect one gets used to it, don't you think? Here, you carry the lantern, but keep the shutters closed at first; we will have the light from the entrance to guide us for a way and we don't want to alarm the bats."

"No, indeed, that would never do." James noted that his sarcasm was quite wasted on his companion. He sighed again. "Well, if it must be done, then let us get it over with."

Will led the way into the passage. The stench enveloped them, catching in the throat and making breathing difficult. After perhaps a dozen yards, when the light behind them was faded almost away, they began to hear, over their own footfalls, a faint high-pitched squeaking. James partially opened a shutter on the lantern, enough for them to see the floor, which continued smooth and free of obstacles, and allow them to proceed. A few yards more and the squeaking had grown in volume, accompanied by a peculiar rustling susurration. The walls and roof of the passage opened out and they were in the cave. The air was full of noise, as the inhabitants reacted to their presence.

"Open the lantern," Will whispered, "let us see."

James obliged. He cast the beam of the lantern to the left and right, where it glittered off the damp walls and the fantastical spikes of limestone jutting up from the floor amidst great heaps of droppings. The far wall of the cave was lost in shadow; the place was huge. And ever the agitated sound from the bats grew louder.

"Look up!" Will said. And both men gasped.

Thousands, tens of thousands of tiny bodies clung to every inch of the roof and of the pendant forms, like icicles of stone, that covered it. As the light played across them, they stirred restlessly, opening and closing their leathery wings and clambering over each other. The noise increased.

Forgetting for a moment his discomfort, James gazed in awe at the astonishing sight. Beside him he heard Will cough and smiled to himself. Not quite so blithe about the fetid air now, boy? , he thought. But Will was undaunted. Taking a spill from his pocket, he lit it at the lantern.

"Watch this," he said, and held the tiny flame to the torch.

It sputtered and burnt blue for a moment before catching and flaring up, sending a blaze of light into that dank place. Billows of smoke rose to the roof of the cave. Will raised it high as a storm of bats took flight. In an instant, the cave was full of wings, swooping and darting.

Will took a few steps forward into the cave, carrying the fire away from the passage entrance. Before James could move, he was enveloped in a river of escaping bats. They poured past him in a never-ending stream, passing so close that he felt the tiny cold wind as each slipped by, like the breath of ghosts. And yet, of all that swift multitude, not a single one touched him with so much as a wing-tip. Curious, he held up his arm and the stream parted around it without a check.

Finally, the outpouring slowed and then stopped as the last of the bats left the cave. From across the cave, Will was grinning at him, his eyes shining in the flaring torchlight.

"Well?" he asked.

"That was..." James shook his head, at a loss. "It was a wonder," he said at last. "Not a single one touched me. How do they manage to avoid collision?"

Will shrugged. "It's a mystery. Come on! The passage continues over here, let's follow it."

They followed the tunnel for some distance. It grew smaller, until they were walking stooped over. It opened out into a second cave, smaller than the first but free of bats. The rock shone with moisture and they heard the plink of a slow drip somewhere. Beyond this cave was a short passage that ended in a sheer drop into blackness. They could hear running water at the bottom. After lowering the lantern at the end of the rope, they saw that they had come to an underground river. It flowed swift and black, about fifty feet below them, lapping at the base of the rock wall, with no foothold visible. Even Will was obliged to concede that going forward was impossible and, accordingly, they turned back.

The return journey was without incident and they passed through the bat cave, to which none of the inhabitants had as yet returned, and out into the sunlight. They moved away from the cave mouth and drew a welcome lungful of untainted air. Will doused the torch and James extinguished the lantern.

Will looked his companion up and down. James was liberally smeared with the slimy 'mud' from the cave and had bat droppings here and there as well. "Look at yourself. Disgraceful," he laughed.

"You are hardly in a better state, I assure you," James replied indignantly.

"Oh, agreed," Will chuckled, "a pretty pair, we are. Let's ride down to the river to get cleaned up before we eat."

As they made their way down to where the horses were tethered James looked at his feet with distaste. "I doubt the stink will ever leave these shoes, Will," he said.

"Very likely not," Will agreed. "We will abandon them here."

They rode barefoot back down the trail to the waterfall glade. The day was hot and the pool inviting. After tending the horses, they took off their coats and stood on the bank. James was beginning to remove his shirt when Will shoved him from behind and he went into the pool fully dressed, with a terrific splash. He surfaced to find Will in the water beside him, likewise still clothed, laughing.

"What the devil are you about?" he demanded.

"Being practical!" Will said, raising his voice to be heard over the falls. "We need to rinse out our clothing in any case. May as well kill two birds with one stone."

"Practical, my eye," said James, trying not to laugh at Will's impish expression, "You just couldn't resist the temptation to push me—admit it."

"Well, there is that," Will granted. He laughed again. "You should have seen your face as you went in!"

They swam for a while and then spread their clothes on the bushes to dry, lying on the bank in the dappled sunlight meanwhile. Presently, they dressed and ate their lunch. They spoke of the wonderful behaviour of the bats and of the cave, itself.

"Where does that river go?" Will asked, "I mean, I know it must run to the sea, but where does it come out?"

"Who knows?" James replied. "It may well enter the ocean from an underwater cave. There is no way to tell."

"I wonder if it's possible to find out. Taking a boat to it would be out of the question, I suppose."

James regarded him with alarm. "Surely you would not attempt it?"

"No, no," Will laughed, "I am not as mad as all that. But perhaps one could drop a number of small casks into the stream. One or more might survive the journey and appear floating off shore."

"Or get smashed to splinters against the rocks in some underground sluiceway, more likely."

Will sighed. "You are probably right. But still, it would be grand to know."

Shortly afterward, they put their boots on and headed home. They beguiled the time with talk of swords. Will had an idea for a new type of guard and they cheerfully argued its merits and thrashed out the details of the design all the way down the mountain.

"We did indeed; it's beautiful country up there. And the cave is fascinating, although I don't expect you wish to hear about that," James replied, seating himself. "Will is still down at the stables. It seems one of the horses has turned up lame and the groom wanted his opinion. He asked me to tell you he won't be long; no need to put dinner back."

"Well, until then," Elizabeth put down her book and rose, "will you walk with me, James?"

She took his proffered arm and they strolled slowly down toward the mill. After a time, she sighed. James looked a question and she smiled.

"Oh, nothing, really. It's just so good to be home again."

"Home?" he asked, knowing how she had longed for her visit to England; her visit 'home'.

"Yes, indeed. Odd, isn't it? Jamaica is more home to me now than England could ever be, James. England was not what I remembered."

"Had it changed so much, then?"

"Say rather that I have changed, I think. I have lived too long in the New World to be comfortable in the Old. I went back looking for 'fresh woods and pastures new', but what I found was smaller and more confined than I expected. Life there is a staid and unvarying round; and they are content in that—rather smugly so, it seemed to me."

The thought of Elizabeth, headstrong and outspoken as she was, attempting to 'fit in' to Society, was, he had to admit, an amusing and incongruous one. But still, it was her heritage. "What about your daughters, Elizabeth? Have you considered the effect on their fortunes if they remain out here? How will they contract suitable marriages?"

She laughed, without mirth. "Suitable in whose eyes, James? Society's? I don't think I measure suitability in quite the same way. Society, you may be sure, lost no opportunity to remind me that I had put a foot badly wrong in that regard, myself. Marrying out of one's class, and for love, of all vulgar reasons, is not done, you know." She was silent for a moment. "Sarah-Ann and Eliza may choose for themselves, when the time comes. If they wish to live in England, I will not hinder them—and my cousins would be delighted to offer them a home and to marry them off 'suitably'. But Will and I will stay here, and I hope my girls will, as well."

Reaching the bridge above the mill-pond, they turned and headed back.

"And what of you, James," she asked. "What will you do when you retire, full of years and honours, as they say? Will you go home to England?"

"Why yes," he replied, after a short pause, "when that day comes, of course I shall go home."

She regarded him steadily. "Why?"

"What do you mean, 'why'?"

"I mean why go to live in England? What will you do there? Take your place amongst the landed gentry; ride to hounds, tend your garden, bore your neighbors with nautical tales?"

"Well," he hesitated, "I hardly think that's an entirely accurate description, but essentially, yes. Get myself a snug little property somewhere and settle down."

"You would be content to give up the sea? To devote your days to horses and hounds, to tenants' disputes and rights of way and the proper maintenance of hedgerows and how many acres to put under wheat this year? Visits from the Vicar about the church restoration fund, dinner with county families?" She shook her head. "To become a country squire?"

"Elizabeth..."

"I'm sorry, James. I shan't tease you any more. Pay me no mind. See, there's Will, come to look for us."

Will told as much as Elizabeth wished to hear of their cave expedition; grinning boyishly at her shudders and turning now and again to James for corroboration. James seemed a little abstracted, glancing thoughtfully at Elizabeth, when her eyes were turned elsewhere. She was aware of his scrutiny but chose to ignore it. She had hoped to make him think and she appeared to have succeeded.

After dinner, at Will's request, she read to them from 'Robinson Crusoe' until bedtime.

"You're up to something, aren't you?" he asked.

She laughed a little; bit her lip. "You know me too well." She fastened her braid with a bit of ribbon and slipped into his arms, stretching and then relaxing against him as he held her tight.

"I ought to, by this time," he smiled. "It's a matter of self-preservation. Forewarned, and all, you know."

"Poor darling," she murmured, lips moving lazily but with intent across his chest. "Is it so terrible?"

"You've no idea," he said, and yelped when she slapped him on the arm. "No fair hitting, madam. I claim a forfeit." He tipped her chin up and kissed her. "Now. Tell me."

After a moment, she said. "It's James."

"I gathered as much. What about James?"

"He's unhappy, Will. Oh, he hides it well, but it's there to glimpse. He still thinks he wants 'marriage to a fine woman'. You should have seen his face when Sarah-Ann proposed to him. Just for an instant, all the regrets were in his eyes." She sighed. "That wish is just a habit he can't break."

"And why should he not wish for such a thing, love?"

"Oh, Will, don't be obtuse! After what you told me about him and Jack, how can you think it? They are matelots in all but name. You said so yourself."

Will shifted uneasily. "That is between them. It is hardly any business of ours."

"If Jack is captured and James is forced to hang him it will become our business pretty quickly, husband."

"After all this time," Will chuckled, "they seem to have the cat and mouse game perfected. We needn't worry about that, I think."

"That is where you are wrong," Elizabeth said, "The rules have changed. Father sent me a note today; the latest dispatches from London include general orders specifically commanding the capture of the Black Pearl and the hanging of her crew."

"General orders?" Will whistled softly. "Once those are published, James will be helpless to protect Jack. Grim news. But how do you think you will be able to help?"

"One step at a time," she replied, "James must somehow be brought to look at this problem clearly. He must realize that his old dreams are no longer what he really wants."

"Again, how do you think to accomplish this, Elizabeth?"

"I want to go to him tonight."

"What? " Will's arms tightened reflexively, possessively. She could feel his body tense with shock. He started to speak; hesitated. The flat 'No' she half expected didn't come. Instead he asked, very softly, as if he dreaded to hear the answer, "Why?"

"James doesn't want a woman of his own," she said, "not any longer. He will never believe that unless he is shown."

"This seems a rather shocking method of proving it to him, don't you think? Unless..." and he paused, "that is not your whole reason for proposing it." Another pause; a deep breath. "Once, long ago, we spoke of the possibility of you having ...adventures."

"We did."

"And this...?"

"...is one, yes," she finished for him. "And true to my word, I will neither lie to you nor deceive you. James's need and my own wishes run in harness, although I will take good care that the latter is not so clear to him as the former. I wish to free him, not entangle him. Do I have your approval?"

"How can I say yes, Elizabeth? You are my wife!"

"And you are my husband. That will not change, my dear."

"But... you and James..."

"Well, what about you and Jack; and all the months you were with him?" she asked. "And that night aboard the Pearl, Will; you had both Jack and James."

"That's different," Will said, uncomfortably.

"Why, because I ask permission first?"

He winced but remained silent.

"I'm sorry," she said, with quick contrition, "That was unkind."

"No," he replied, "I am being a fool." He stopped. She waited him out. At last: "I love you. I trust you. Now go, before I change my mind."

"Not just yet," she murmured. Shoving at his shoulder, she rolled him unresisting onto his back and knelt astride his waist. Running her hands into his hair she bent to touch his mouth with hers, smiling into the kiss as his hands slid their way up her thighs to grip her hips, easing her back and down, onto him. "First things first."

An hour later, as Will slept, she crept out of his arms and made her way to James's room. Inching the door open, she listened. Nothing to be heard but deep, even breathing; good. Her feet made no sound on the cool wood of the floor as she crossed to stand for a moment beside the bed. James lay on his side, facing her; dark hair mussed on the pillow. He looked much younger in sleep; the cares of the day removed for a time. Almost of itself, her hand came up to brush a lock of hair from his forehead, but stopped. No; better to wake him another way, she thought. Lifting a corner of the sheet, she lightly slipped into the bed beside him; legs sliding along his, shoulder barely touching his chest.

And he moved. His arms went round her and she turned to him as he drew her close; he threw one leg over hers, wrapping himself around her. Her face was pressed to the hollow of his throat, his cheek against her hair and he mumbled something; a drowsy, contented sound. If it was a name he spoke in his sleep, it was not hers. So much the better, she thought.

She pressed a kiss to his throat; moved upward, tongue and lips tasting and teasing, toward his jaw. She felt him hardening against her hip. "Mmmm," he hummed with pleasure, still three parts asleep, and shifted to bring his mouth down on hers. Opening to him, she met his kiss with careful enthusiasm; lips full of tiny movements, swirling her tongue around his; watching for the moment when he realized it was not a dream.

There it was! His eyes snapped open and he raised his head to look at her face. For a moment he blinked at her with astonishment. "Elizabeth?" And his brows drew down into something very like a scowl. "What. Are you. Doing. Here?" he asked, enunciating carefully.

"Isn't it obvious, James?" she smiled, smoothing one hand along the now-tense muscles of his back, as the other drifted across his chest, dragging lightly across his nipples before continuing downward.

"It is, rather. Perhaps I should have asked 'Why are you here', instead?" he replied, his tone an interesting mixture of distraction and sarcasm. She bent her knee, bringing her leg up between his, her thigh pressing gently upward. "Elizabeth. Stop it."

"Why?" she asked in her turn, "don't you like it?" Undulating very gently, she watched his eyelids flutter and he bit back a groan.

"I am not dead, woman," he growled. "Of course I like it. But that's hardly the point, is it? What about Will?"

"My husband knows where I am, James, else I would not be here." She paused and continued demurely, "Or is it that you wish him to join us? Would you like me to ask him?" Her eyes narrowed in amusement as he struggled for words. "I would rather have you all to myself, but that is for you to say."

"Elizabeth, you devil, I will have a serious answer, if you please!" he demanded. "Why are you here in my bed?"

"Because, my dear friend, it is time—past time—to clear the air between us. I treated you with rather appalling cruelty. No," she laid her hand against his mouth, "don't deny it; you know it to be true. And in return you have been kind and generous far beyond my deserts."

His lips stirred against her palm in the lightest of caresses and his eyes softened but he didn't speak.

"I regret nothing of those wild days," she went on, "save the hurt I did you; which cannot be undone." Her hand crept up at last to brush back the hair that fell over his brow. She drew his head down, whispered against his mouth. "I offer you amends. Will you accept?"

"Elizabeth," his voice shook, "you need not do this. The simple fact that you would offer is enough."

"Of course I need not. I do so because I wish to."

His arms tightened around her. Yet still he hesitated, his eyes searching hers, not quite daring to believe. She nodded. "I want you, James."

And his mouth came down on hers with the pent up longing of years. She sank into the kiss, moving against his body with a growing urgency, awed by force of him. His hand came up, fumbled with the fastenings of her gown and she moaned in frustration. Too much was between them.

She gripped his arms, whispering, "Wait. Let me go a moment." Dazedly, he complied. She sat up and pulled her nightgown over her head. "Now yours," she said, tugging at his nightshirt, which soon joined hers at the foot of the bed. "Much better," she purred, leaning in to run the flat of her tongue over his nipple, making him gasp and shudder even as he reached for her again.

He lay back and she straddled him, knees pressing into his sides. He fondled her breasts, thumbs grazing the nipples; she moaned and arched her back. Meanwhile, she reached behind to take him in one hand, stroking firmly upward, causing him to buck his hips, nearly unseating her. "Teasing wench," he growled at her.

She laughed, a little breathlessly. "And if I am? What will you do about it, sirrah?"

Seizing her about the waist, he raised her. "Just this," he said, and drove upward just as he pulled her down. Her head snapped back as he filled her and she cried out. She braced her hands on his shoulders, arms trembling, as she rode him, rising and sinking slowly, maddeningly. He slipped his hand between their bodies and she jumped as his fingers found what they sought; her sighs becoming whimpers, her movements convulsive, as he stroked her to her climax.

Gasping, she bent down to kiss him and his arms went round her back, clasping her tightly as he rolled them over, still joined, until she lay beneath him. She wrapped her legs around his waist as he grinned at down her.

"My turn," he said, and began to move. Slowly at first; long, slow strokes meant to last. She gasped as he drove home again, and again. Soon, his control began to slip and he sped up; faster and faster he pounded. At last, spine arched, eyes tight shut, he spilled himself into her with a bitten-off cry. He sank down bonelessly, trembling and she kissed his eyelids and held him close for long minutes. At last, he sighed and, kissing her once again, lifted himself off of her, rolling over onto his back, pulling her into his arms.

He settled her against his side, her head on his chest and her arm wrapped around his ribs. She lay listening to his heart thudding; slowly returning to a normal pace; felt him kiss her hair. Lapped in peace, they drifted.

The hall clock, striking three, roused her from a doze. Time to go. She stirred and his arms tensed for a moment before easing reluctantly to let her sit up. He ran a hand softly up and down her back, undemanding, as if to memorize her skin with his palm. She reached for her nightgown and pulled it on. Turning, she sat facing him, a sleepy smile just curving her lips. He reached up to tie the ribbons at the neck of her gown, fingers deft and gentle. She dipped her chin and placed a kiss on the back of his hand, which turned to cup her face. She put her hand over his, sighed very softly, and swung her feet to the floor. Her voice was low and warm as she leaned over him to whisper, "Jack is a very fortunate man."

"What did you say? "

"Whose name was it, James, that you almost cried out, before?" Still smiling, she pressed her mouth to his, and slipped out of the room without another word.

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