(no subject)
Elizabeth:
I’m dancing with Lt. Doyle when he walks in. The Captain. I know he fancies me. He’s had a hard time keeping it secret since my debut almost two years ago. The amazingly confident, and if I may say so, pompous man I’ve known since I was twelve. Does he not know he’s too old for me? Father seems to be happy that the Captain has shown interest. Though he’s not exactly of my station, he is certainly acceptable in a place where society is so limited. Everyone in Port Royal is amazingly grateful to him. Truly he’s been a wonder, cleaning up both the streets and the seas. Rabble rarely come here anymore - they are immediately arrested by the Navy.
I fancy my old childhood friend Will Turner, though he’d never be invited to this party. Father would not have a blacksmith in his house unless he was doing work. I also fancy Lt. Doyle. Honestly, I fancy all of them. They’re so sweet and so polite; they all whisper pretty words in my ear.
The Captain is staring again. He seems unable to control the length that his eyes linger on me or the fact that his mouth hangs open a fraction at the sight of me in my new dress. When I look back at him, he looks away, embarrassed. It’s bizarre to see such a strong man with so little control over his own actions.
I’ve been drinking. Father and his friends have been at the Scotch he imports for hours and the better part of the bottle is gone. Father cannot abide the rum that is a household staple here. The Scotch burns my throat and tastes awful. I could not believe they could drink so much until I started drinking it myself. Turns out the more you consume, the better it tastes. Now it is the finest drink I’ve ever had.
I need air though and the garden is muddy from a winter rain. I take off my slippers and try to sneak out the door.
Father has noticed and has a look of alarm on his face. He looks positively apoplectic.
“Elizabeth!”
Suddenly a guest calls him and I think I am saved.
The Captain is gazing at me again. He wears his dress uniform, a cutlass hanging at his side.
“Captain, would you mind…”
James smiles thinly. “Not at all, Governor.”
“Miss Swann…” James now smirks. “You appear to have lost your shoes.”
“I didn’t want to ruin them”, I say.
“Indeed”, he says and clears his throat, obviously trying not to laugh. “Your father is wondering why you are, during a ball, walking around barefoot in the garden.”
“And are you wondering?” I ask, all innocence.
“No, Miss Swann”, he says, “I can smell the reason from here.”
I wrinkle up my nose. “You’re going to tell Father?”
“I don’t see how that would be necessary”, he answers, “As long as you don’t make a habit of it.”
He comes closer and his eyes strike me once again. I have never seen anything so green.
“I don’t want to go in yet”, I say. “The garden is lovely, the air is lovely, everything is just so lovely…”
“Indeed, Miss Swann. Would you like to take a stroll? The brisk air may help you.”
He offers his arm and I take it, me the drunken girl in her barefeet, and he the gallant Captain without a single wrinkle in his uniform.
He is warm and close and smells of seawater and lengthy leather bound books. He is so much taller than I am and I am not a short woman.
“They all want to kiss me, you know”, I say knowing how rude and impudent I’m being. “Every single one of them.”
“I don’t doubt it for a moment, Miss Swann”, he responds. “Do you want to kiss them?”
At once those green eyes are troubled.
“Perhaps”, I say.
“You want to kiss them all? Who do you want to kiss?” His voice has gone an octave lower.
“Surely Lt. Doyle, he is my escort for the evening”, I answer, but I persist in this only because it seems to bother him so much.
“Lt. Doyle is a good officer, but green when it comes to young ladies”, he says. “And it would not benefit your reputation.”
“Neither does walking around drunk in one’s garden”, I say and he cannot argue.
“You prefer a gentleman closer to eighteen?” he asks.
“I thought so”, I answer. “But father disagrees. The blind leading the blind I believe is a direct quote.”
He tries not to laugh.
“Would you like to kiss me?” I ask.
He stops and looks at me. A war between the need to protect and the force of lust are written all over his face.
“I am not a boy, Miss Swann, I am a man and playing games with a man can be dangerous”, he says.
Not the answer I expected, but I am a thousand times more intrigued than I was before.
We walk deliberately over to the apple tree in the garden. He reaches up for a greenish apple not yet ripe, and then for a bright red one, ready to be picked, and still warm from the sun.
“Try them”, he says.
I cannot wrap my confused mind around this. “We were speaking of kissing, Captain”, I respond, a little annoyed.
“And we still are”, he says. “Try them both.”
I take a bite of the green and then of the red. Once I have swallowed two juicy bites, juice running down my chin, he looks at me.
“Which do you prefer?” Again, he looks nervous.
“Well the green is tart and refreshing”, I say, “But the red is sweet and tastier. I would say I prefer the red.”
“That’s what I was hoping you would say”, he says and all at once pushes me up against the tree, his lips coming down on mine.
My entire body comes to attention. His lips are gentle but demanding. I am shocked to my very core. Is this the stuffy Captain? I have never been kissed this way. There is not a word for it. Masterful.
At once I remember how young he actually is. He’s hardly a man in his dotage, he has just been promoted with alarming speed.
I am confused, a little afraid, and suddenly very awake. I want more, and pull him closer to me, and he responds immediately, deepening the kiss.
Then he pulls away. “You undo me, Miss Swann, you’ll have me forgetting I’m a gentleman.”
I have no rational thoughts, only feelings, and my feelings tell me to reach for him, to remove his jacket, and touch him everywhere. There is an aching somewhere I have not felt before.
I push my hands inside his jacket and wrap them around his waist, only his thin shirt between me and warm flesh.
He moans.
My fingers try to find a way past this unwelcome barrier to the man beneath.
“No”, he says, “When we’re wed, when we’re wed.” He whispers against my ear. “If you would have me.”
“I would have you as soon as possible”, I say, unthinking, and he laughs low and warm. As warm as that sweet apple. It tickles my ears delightfully as does his warm breath on my neck.
“I shall speak to your father in the morning”, he says, “I have been wanting to, but only with your consent. I would wait until I’m worthy of you to marry you. On a Commodore’s salary, we can have the best of everything, as you were brought up in your father’s house.”
Now he’s talking about fathers and houses and I find both an impediment to my immediate desire for him to kiss me again. I move in, too drunk and clumsy to even know what I’m doing.
He laughs low. “You are trouble, Miss Swan.” “Elizabeth”, he corrects himself with a sigh and a brilliant smile.
“I never liked trouble until now”, he says, kissing me again and that delightful feeling moves from my head to my toes. “Will you wait for me?”
“Of course”, I answer, a tingly sensation in my belly, then lower. I’m not entirely sure what I’ve just agreed to, but if it leads to more of this, I am ready to promise anything.
“We’ll hardly be strangers” he whispers and I can feel his smile against me cheek. “I’ll return in a few days to take you and your father on a picnic, how about that?”
“Will there be more kissing?” I ask. He laughs softly again and it is a bewitching sound.
“If your father consents to the marriage, perhaps we can sneak away for a few moments”, he says. “Now you must get back inside, Miss Swann”, he says, trying to compose himself, “There will be many young men looking to dance with you and catch you out in the moonlight.”
He picks another ripe red apple and then walks away.
“Miss Swan…”
I turn to look at him. He tosses the apple to me.
“Don’t forget me”, he says and walks away.