Harry & the Pirate: Swann’s Revenge

Nov 08, 2004 19:53

Chapter 2: Happy Shalt Thou Be



Lady Henrietta Fanshawe stood watching her niece, Miss Elizabeth Swann, who in a very short time would become Mrs. Elizabeth Turner. The maid was skillfully completing the arrangement of the bride’s hair. Tiny flowers had been carefully pinned into the honey colored curls, which had been swept up into a simple, yet regal coiffure.

“It’s lovely, Estrella,” said Harry. “My dresser in London could not have done better.”

“Thank you, ma’am,” said Estrella with a smile. “And I wish you joy, Miss Elizabeth.”

“Thank you, Estrella. For everything.” Elizabeth touched the maid’s hand in a fond caress. Estrella had been her lady’s maid since shortly after Elizabeth had come to Port Royal as a girl of twelve. Estrella had been just eighteen, very young to be raised to such an exalted position in the household, and Elizabeth, being old for her twelve years, had become most attached to her maid, in spite of the difference in their stations.

“You’re most welcome, Miss. I’ll leave you now: you’ll like to be private with your aunt for a bit, I daresay.” Estrellla squeezed her charge’s hand lightly and gave her a meaningful smile, then turned and left the room.

Elizabeth raised one eyebrow and met her aunt’s eyes in the mirror, quizzically. “Are you going to tell me to close my eyes and think of England tonight?”

Harry burst out laughing. “Where did you hear such a thing, you rogue?”

Elizabeth grinned. “A friend of mine, Mary Cooper, was married last year and said that’s what her mother told her the morning of her wedding, on my honor!”

“Oh, my lord! No, it wouldn’t be my recommendation,” Harry chuckled. “Will is such a darling: I have no doubt you will deal delightfully together.”

“As delightfully as you and Jack?” Elizabeth said primly, her eyes full of teasing laughter.

Harry stared at her, slightly startled. They had never spoken of the two days Harry had spent with Jack in his cabin aboard the Black Pearl. Harry felt herself coloring as bits of memory from that idyll intruded upon her calm. She cleared her throat.

“Well…ah…it won’t be quite like that. But the night will hold a charm all its own, I promise you.”

Elizabeth turned around and looked at her aunt, the teasing look fading to real sympathy. “So unwise of you Aunt! But you miss him dreadfully, don’t you?” she asked. “I mean, since our return I’ve noticed…well, you sometimes look as though you are not quite with us.”

Her aunt sighed, and a little crease appeared between her brows. “Have you? I’m sorry for it: there are few guests more tiresome than one sunk in melancholy.”

“I don’t think my father has noticed,” Elizabeth said. “But Will and I…perhaps we expected something of the sort. Jack is rather hard to forget.”

“Mmmm. He is isn’t he?” said Harry slowly, picturing him in her mind’s eye, a smile touching her lips again.

“Was it delightful, Aunt?” Elizabeth said softly, smiling too.

Harry was dragged back to the present, and reddened further. “Yes. Well. He…has a great deal of…of experience, you know.”

“And he loves you,” Elizabeth added.

Harry nodded. “Yes, he does, a bit. I have a corner of his heart at least. But he wasn’t meant to be tied to a woman’s apron strings. You are very right. The whole affaire was most unwise. And yet, I cannot regret it. You, on the other hand, are fortunate enough to have all of Will’s heart, and I beg you will always remember the value of that: it is a rare and beautiful thing.”

“I will,” Elizabeth assured her, a prescient echo of the words she would soon declare to the world. Her thoughts wandered away, in pursuit of her beloved.

* * *

The ladies emerged from Elizabeth’s room betimes. Weatherby Swann, Governor of Port Royal, proud father of the bride, and exasperated brother of the dowager duchess, had been pacing about the foyer for the last quarter hour, bemoaning dallying females to his butler, Beck. However, when he caught sight of the two of them coming down the stairs, his impatience was mollified by the reflection that he had never seen two more beautiful or more elegantly dressed females in his life.

Harry wore a magnificent toilette of coral silk: Kiss of Venus, she’d said the color was named. Straight from Paris no doubt-probably cost a small fortune. The pirate Montlief had unaccountably left Harry’s trunks of fine clothing on the Nightingale, and the Governor almost regretted this circumstance: it would have done his spoiled sister a great deal of good to have to scrape together a wardrobe from the comparatively limited resources that Port Royal and Kingston had to offer. But, alas, it was not to be. Harry had thoroughly equipped herself with the latest fashions before sailing from England, and that fool Montlief had not even bothered to check the trunks for hidden compartments, and so had missed getting hold of her jewelry as well. It was all of a piece. However, Harry did do him credit. The dress she had chosen for the wedding was a stunning creation-although the bodice was cut rather too low for modesty; undoubtedly in the mode, however-and was further enhanced by the pearl and diamond jewelry she had gleefully unearthed on discovering that her trunks had arrived intact. She was a beauty. There was no denying it. And there was a decidedly unwidowlike glow about her too, which rather worried the Governor.

And then there was his Elizabeth. He had no worries at all when it came to his daughter. She was radiant, everything a bride should be! A vision in lace and sky blue satin, shot with tiny pearls, the cut of the dress enhancing her tall, slender figure to perfection. She recalled to him the way his wife had looked at their own wedding, his darling, who had died untimely. She had come from yeoman stock: he had married beneath his station, and had never regretted it for a moment, which was another reason he had given his consent to Elizabeth’s seemingly unequal match.

“Elizabeth, my dear! You are perfection! I hope Turner appreciates the rare jewel I’m about to bestow upon him.”

“Oh, there’s no doubt of that,” said Harry. “He still can’t quite believe it even now, I think. He is a darling boy.”

“And I am appreciative in turn, Father,” said Elizabeth, with quiet dignity. “Will is the finest man of my acquaintance, bar none!”

“Yes, quite,” said Swann, in a soothing tone, “If he were not a fine man I would hardly have given my consent to your marriage, would I?”

“Is the carriage here?” Harry asked.

“Aye. It’s been ready for the past quarter hour,” said her brother pointedly.

“Has it?”

“We’ll be late!”

“Do you think they will start without us?” Harry asked blandly, her eyes twinkling.

Her brother raised his eyes toward Heaven, as though praying for patience.

Harry said, sympathetically, “Don’t worry, dearest, we won’t be late.”

They weren’t. The bells were striking the hour when their carriage drew up at the church steps.

The wedding itself was to be a small one, although much of the population of the town had been invited to attend the reception, to be held afterwards in the gardens of the Governor’s estate. Among the select assembly waiting on the steps of the church was the bridegroom, William Turner, looking tense and romantically handsome in a new suit of deep blue, real lace at his throat and wrists: by far the most elegant clothing he’d ever worn. His former master, Mr. Brown, stood beside him, thankfully sober, and resplendent in his best russet coat and black breeches, both ten years out of date and a bit tight on his now ampler figure. And Commodore James Norrington was there as well.

Over the intervening months since Elizabeth’s rejection of his suit, Norrington had conducted himself with admirable nobility, even going so far as to strike up a cool but nonetheless sincere friendship with Will Turner, whom he had discovered to be quite a remarkable young man. Norrington’s regard for Elizabeth endured, and, if he could not have her to wife, he was determined to retain her and Will as his friends, and, as such, it would have been folly to exclude himself from what would be the most important event of their lives. He did not expect the day to be entirely comfortable for him, but he was hopeful that the sight of their happiness would assuage any undue pain he might expect to feel. That, and possibly the liberal consumption of champagne punch at the reception.

Norrington was also intrigued by Elizabeth’s aunt. In spite of her threat to expose his youthful scrape of a dozen years before, and of her outrageous behavior in bestowing a rather too warm parting kiss on the pirate, Sparrow, he had enjoyed becoming reacquainted with Lady Henrietta on the voyage back to Port Royal. She had grown from a lively debutante into a woman of great vitality and grace. Her beauty was of a different nature than Elizabeth’s: less goddess-like, perhaps. Indeed, he would himself be tempted to slip an arm about her trim waist should the opportunity arise, whereas he’d never really thought of Elizabeth in quite those terms. Even soaked to the skin and dressed in nothing but a shift, Elizabeth had what seemed to him a sterner, less approachable beauty. But Lady Harry, as she had insisted he call her, was made for laughter and kisses, and it was easy to forgive her if her high spirits occasionally led her into indiscretion.

The Governor had emerged from the carriage first, and the entire party on the steps smiled as Swann handed down first his lovely sister, then, to a chorus of low-voiced murmurs of approval, the bride.

Elizabeth and Will were surrounded by close friends and family, yet it was as if they were alone on the steps, communicating their love with faces alight with joy, and eyes that spoke more eloquently than voices. Will came down the steps to take her hand as the carriage drove away.

“Will you come in with me?” Will asked her, wonder in his voice.

“With all my heart,” replied his bride.

“Come, my dears,” said Harry, gently, “Parson Daniels is waiting!”

The two smiled at each other.

They had just started up the steps to the church, followed by the rest of the party, when the clippity-clip sound of a rider on horseback came to their ears.

The whole wedding party turned and gaped in wonder and curiosity at the vision that was rapidly approaching. And Harry, her heart giving a sudden leap as enlightenment blinded her to caution, shoved her way past her brother and Norrington to stand open-mouthed with joy at the foot of the steps.

“J-,” she began, saw his eyes widen and a brow lift at the indiscretion hovering on her tongue, clapped a hand over her mouth, and went into an abrupt fit of coughing.

“Harry! My word! What is wrong with you? And who is this fellow?” Governor Swann demanded, slapping his sister lightly on her back.

Jack, for it was indeed he, had dismounted. He tossed the reins of the horse and a gold coin to an urchin hovering nearby, saying, “Have this beast stabled if you please, lad!” He turned to the Governor and Harry, and minced toward them, sweeping off his very beautiful hat. He bowed with exaggerated grace. “Governor Swann! You must forgive me for intruding upon this auspicious occasion, but it had come to my ears that the niece of my very dear Lady Fanshawe was to be wed this morning, and I took the chance of imposing upon your celebrated hospitality to come and offer my old friend support during the happy event. I am Sir John Wainfleet.”

The Governor looked ‘Sir John’ up and down in considerable surprise. This painted puppy a good friend of Harry’s? If it was true, her taste in men had changed remarkably over the years: the fellow looked a damned man-milliner! Apricot satin indeed!

But before her brother could say anything, Harry recovered. Straightening, she went to Jack, holding out her hands. “My dear Sir John! What a surprise! I had no idea you had planned to come to Jamaica! I only arrived two weeks ago myself.”

“’Twas somewhat less for me,” Sir John said, taking her hands and kissing the air directly above each one, giving them a slight squeeze as he did so. Jack straightened and smiled benignly at Harry, the Governor, and the rest of the bridal party. He saw that Will and Elizabeth knew him-they were struck dumb, mouths slightly open, but fortunately no one was looking at them. Norrington was giving him an oddly penetrating look too, but Jack could not believe the Commodore would be quite so quick on the uptake-perhaps it was the foppish disguise that made him stare so. It was certainly fooling the Governor: Jack chuckled inwardly at the rather disdainful look Swann was giving him.

“My dear,” Harry said to her brother, “you will not mind if Sir John joins us for the ceremony. You do not know him, but indeed he is one of my greatest friends!”

“Really?” said Swann. He held out his hand.

Jack hesitated for a split second, then limply touched the Governor’s fingers with two of his own. Alphonse had carefully manicured Jack’s hands, but the calluses built up with so many years of sailing could not be hidden, and were as dead a giveaway as the gold teeth would have been.

Swann’s lip curled. “Well, you must join us, then. Wainfleet, eh? The Lincolnshire family? I knew old Mortimer, you know.”

“He was my Great Uncle,” Sir John supplied.

“That right? Well, you have the look of him, a bit. We’d better go in, Harry. Can’t keep the Parson waiting any longer.”

“Very true,” Harry agreed. “Just let me quickly introduce you to everyone, Sir John.”

The introductions went well. Elizabeth and Will had recovered their composure, and greeted Sir John with a warm light in their eyes. Jack lifted Elizabeth’s fingers to his lips in a brief salute, and said to her, “My dear, I’ve never seen a lovelier bride. I am very honored to be with you on this special day.”

“And I am so happy you came to join us, Sir John!” she said, her voice quivering only slightly.

Will gripped Jack’s hand firmly. “It’s a great pleasure, sir,” he said, sincerely, his eyes laughing.

Norrington looked down his nose at Sir John, a slight smile on his lips as the fop bowed politely. “How do you do?” the Commodore said, sounding bored.

The other members of the group, mostly high-ranking members of Port Royal society, seemed impressed with Sir John’s air of sophistication. This, coupled with the dowager duchess’s obvious fondness for the man, persuaded them that he must certainly be of the haute ton in London, and most worthy of their acceptance.

“Sir John! Please accompany me!” said Harry, taking his arm.

“With the greatest pleasure in life, my dear,” said Sir John.

The whole party processed into the church. Will and Elizabeth joyously walked up the aisle to stand before the Parson, whose slight annoyance at the delay vanished at the sight of the beautiful pair. Harry sat in the front row, flanked by Jack and her brother, and the rest of the guests filled the remaining first two rows.

Harry reflected that this was indeed one of the happiest moments she’d ever experienced. She placed her hand close to Jack’s, stealthily, and he linked his little finger with hers. She looked at him, and he smiled down at her. She smiled back, gave a small sigh of bliss, turned to face the altar again, and let the beautiful words of the ceremony weave their magic as they united two lives in one.

Dearly beloved, we are gathered together here in the sight of God, to join together this Man and this Woman in holy Matrimony…

…I, William, take thee, Elizabeth, to my wedded wife, to have and to hold from this day forward, for better for worse, for richer for poorer, in sickness and in health, to love and to cherish, till death us do part, according to God's holy ordinance; and thereto I plight thee my troth…

…I, Elizabeth, take thee, William, to my wedded husband, to have and to hold from this day forward, for better for worse, for richer for poorer, in sickness and in health, to love, cherish, and to obey, till death us do part, according to God's holy ordinance; and thereto I plight thee my troth…

…With this ring I thee wed, with my body I thee worship, and with all my worldly goods I thee endow: In the Name of the Father, and of the Son, and of the Holy Ghost. Amen…

…Eternal God, Creator and Preserver of all mankind, Giver of all spiritual grace, the Author of everlasting life: Send thy blessing upon these thy servants, this man and this woman, whom we bless in thy Name.

Happy shalt thou be!

On to Chapter 3

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