Chapter 1:

When I opened my eyes, I was looking at the wall and the candle beside my bed was still burning. I shook my head a bit to get my bearings, sat up, and saw my room in the governors palace in Port Royal. I thought about my eerily-tangible dream and wondered how I could remember all those little details from that day eight years ago.

Remembering the medallion, I stood up slowly. Turning to my washstand, I opened the top drawer and took out the books which I stored in there. Pulling out a secret handle, I uncovered a hidden compartment where the medallion had lain for eight years straight. I picked it up, replaced the handle, and rubbed off the dust. Checking myself in my looking glass, I hooked the chain around my neck. Remembering, I gazed at myself in the mirror. I found, surprisingly, that I liked the way the gold brought out the blonde tints of my light maple-chestnut hair and how it nestled against my creamy throat. It felt right, sitting there, perhaps because I had always been one to rebel against social norm. My snapping mahogany eyes had rarely been lowered in contrition as they should have. I wanted to make something more of my life than just being a noblewoman. What I should do, I did not know.

Suddenly, a knock sounded at my heavy oak side of the bed. Outside the door, my father asked, “Are you decent?”

While frantically pulling the robe around me, I gasped, “Ah . . . yes. Yes.” I hid the medallion in my bosom.

My father entered with a maid, dressed in a splendid blue waistcoat with a white lace ruffle at the throat. “Ah. Still abed at this hour?” he scolded teasingly. “Your sister has been up since before dawn!”

I nodded slightly, smiling and still a bit nervous that he might discover the medallion. Lily could wake up at midnight for all I cared. She was a morning person and I was not. I studied his dear face, noticing how his wrinkles had deepened of late. I feared that his age was finally catching up with him and I worried about his health. He had been stooping recently.

As the maid drew the heavy curtains in front of my balcony, I blinked at the resulting light. My father noted, “Oh, it’s a beautiful day.” And it was. The morning sun sparkled on the Caribbean waters and glittered off the green cliffs in the bay. At the corner, the fort was filled with scurrying soldiers. Underneath my window, the town was coming alive. Bakers and merchants dealt out their goods and the sailors were loading goods onto ships. However, the clang of the blacksmith shop interested me most. Will was there.

“I have a gift for you,” my father announced, interrupting my daydreaming. I noticed that another maid had entered the room bearing a large, flat box. Father took the top off, revealing a beautiful gown of sparkling silver and gold colors with a bit of cream and salmon thrown in. As a rule, I don’t like to wear fancy gowns, partly because I am forced to wear them at least once a day to supper. I would go about in trousers if allowed. I did not complain in silence and caused my father much distress, I am afraid. I believed this to be an attempt by my father to get me into a fancier lifestyle.

“Oh, it’s beautiful,” I marveled, partly for my father’s sake and partly because I really did like the dress. I reached in and pulled it out, stroking the softness of it.

“Isn’t it?” Father remarked.

I giggled quietly, but just before I took it behind my dressing screen, I turned, remembering that he never gave gifts without purpose. “May I inquire as to the occasion?” I asked in a teasing manner. I actually was quite surprised that Father had gone to so much trouble after the party three days ago. Lily, surprisingly, had returned from her finishing school in England to come and live with us, and Father had thrown a ball for her. She wanted to marry a Royal Navy man: that was her excuse. And she only sixteen! She had changed much—becoming more of a noblewoman. I had noticed Lieutenant Gillette loitering around her. Perhaps she would receive her wish sooner than she thought.

My father feigned an injured air. “Does a father need an occasion to dote upon his daughter?”

I smiled at his antics and disappeared behind my screen, where my maids soon joined me. Yes, I was spoiled, for my maids dressed me every morning. I had to let my father have his way in some things, though I must admit I rather liked being pampered slightly. I little realized just how much I enjoyed it until later.

“Actually,” Father began, and I smirked to myself. “I had hoped you might wear it to the ceremony today,” he politely requested.

I poked my head out from behind the screen. “Ceremony?” I reiterated.

“Captain Norrington’s promotion ceremony,” Father clarified.

I barely muffled a snicker. I had no respect for that man. He fancied me, so I thought, just because I was the governor’s daughter and very-“suitable”-for him. Walking about like a pompous pig with his white powdered wig and his fancy clothes, I would have loved to spit at him. If he had not possessed that rather intolerable air of looking down on people he considered inferior to himself, I would not have disliked him so much. I felt like a commodity around him. Unconsciously, I compared him with Will. Will never let me doubt the way he felt about me. He always treated me as a lady even when I didn’t want him to and couldn’t hide the admiration in his eyes. I guess he made me feel appreciated, wanted. Norrington made me feel like a necessity for his position, though I would find out his true thoughts later.

I poked my head out from behind the curtain. “I knew it,” I announced triumphantly. Norrington had always dreamed of worming himself up to the top. Now, it seemed he had. He was the kind of man to work for what he wanted. I couldn’t admit to myself that I liked that quality.

“Commodore Norrington,” my father boasted importantly, “as he’s about to become. A fine gentleman, don’t you think?”

I struggled into my corset and the maids began pulling it tight as Father continued, “He fancies you, you know.” Oh yes, I knew. Slobbering worm . . . The corset was pulled too tightly and I gasped in pain.

“Elizabeth? How’s it coming?” my father asked concernedly.

As the maids heaved at the corset strings, I struggled to keep from screaming. “It’s difficult to say,” I wheezed, not wanting him to know how much it really throbbed. Lily, of course, would be used to this torture. Prim, proper Lily who had “matured” even more since her finishing school experience. Not I. One noblewoman was enough for any family, at least for my family. Personally, I did not see the point of it.

“I’m told it’s the latest fashion in London,” Father tried to reassure me.

“Well,” I puffed through clenched teeth, “women in London must have learned not to breathe.” I heard the cracking of my back and clutched a hand to my bosom, fighting to inhale without bursting. Nay, I cared not whether I burst, only that I could get a new breath. I heard a courier come in and announce that a visitor downstairs was waiting for Father. He left the room as my maids finished dressing me.

When they were done, Lily entered. “My but isn’t that a lovely dress,” she smiled. “Father sent it with me on the ship. He told me to pick out the prettiest one.”

“Thank you,” I smiled forcefully.

Lily understood my mood and sat me down in a chair before my vanity. “Oh Elizabeth, you are such a trial to him, you know,” she lamented as she twisted and curled my unruly locks with expertise. “You told me that you were not such a tomboy anymore.”

“I’m not!” I insisted. “I don’t slide down the banisters in trousers anymore.”

Lily nearly dropped the brush. She stared at me in horror. “You used to slide down the banisters—in trousers?” she questioned. “Never mind, I don’t want to know. Lizzy, why don’t you go to finishing school so all this social activity would not be such a struggle for you?”

I bit back a derogatory remark, just shook my head lightly so as to not loose the hairpins. She knew that I hated to be called Lizzy. I preferred my given name.

Lily sighed resignedly and pinned the last curl in place. “See?” she smiled, holding my shoulders and looking into the mirror. “You look beautiful, darling.”

Grimacing, I made faces at the mirror, not liking the young lady I saw there. Lily left, exasperated. I heard her descending the stairs. When she was gone, I undid one small curl of hair and made it wisp over my right cheek attractively. I lightly strolled out of my room and was descending the stairs, wondering who Father’s visitor was, when I heard a familiar voice.

“A craftsman is always pleased to hear his work is appreciated.”

I looked down the stairwell into the hall where I saw Will Turner with a long sword in hand talking with my father, Lily politely standing by. I knew that she did not approve of my infatuation with the man, but I didn’t care. As soon as they noticed me, my father marveled, “Elizabeth, you look absolutely stunning.” I barely heeded him, for my eyes rested on Will. I noticed Lily roll her aqua eyes behind him. His eyes grew wide with admiration and his gaze never left me. “Will! It’s so good to see you!” I greeted a bit over-zealously. “I had a dream about you last night.” I stared intently into his deep brown eyes—deep as how I imagined a tree’s heart must be.

Will seemed at a loss for words. “About me?” he repeated.

“Yes,” my father coughed, embarrassed, “Is that entirely proper for you to . . .”

“About the day we met,” I explained, deliberately ignoring my father, “do you remember?”

Will smiled politely, nervously. “How could I forget, Miss Swann?”

Exasperated, I leaned in closer. “Will, how many times must I ask you to call me Elizabeth?” I asked, struggling to keep my voice even.

“At least once more, Miss Swann,” Will stated firmly, his eyes pleading. “As always.”

The smile left my face and I just stared at him. The man insisted on this whenever he saw me. Not even in private would he address me by my given name and it rankled me to no end. He admired me unabashedly, yet he couldn’t even get up the nerve to . . . to . . .

I stopped my thoughts where they lay and arched my back to my full height, barely listening to my father praise the man’s “sense of propriety.” Will so obviously considered himself beneath me and unworthy of friendship with me. Well, I’d show him.

“Now, we really must be going.” My father’s voice interrupted my angry thoughts. I watched as his shoulders heaved with the quick intake of breaths. I affected him like this, but he wouldn’t allow for a closer relationship. As my father strolled out the door, I glared at Will. “Good day, Mr. Turner,” I dismissed haughtily as I daintily stepped out the door. I heard Will’s hurried footsteps following me but I did not turn around. Nor did I hear his farewell, “Good day . . . Elizabeth.”

As the carriage moved forward, I turned to glance back at Will. A twinge of guilt pierced my soul when I saw his tentative steps off the veranda, gazing forlornly after us. Consoling myself with how he deserved it, I turned back to look at the road.

Lily touched a light finger to my shoulder. “Lizzy, you really should not berate him so for maintaining a sense of respect between you,” she admonished. “You should not strive to make a blacksmith equal in standing to a governor’s daughter. He knows his place. Let him keep it.”

I glared menacingly at her. She did look lovely with her beautiful golden hair arranged in large curls about her head and her cream chiffon dress looping around her. She was built daintier than I, with paler skin and a spotless complexion. She was the perfect picture of a governor’s daughter, and I was not. I knew that the social system should not be so rigid, and said so.

Lily threw up her small gloved hands. “I’m not going to argue with you,” she said.

No, Lily rarely argued. Perfect, clean Lily. I had always felt overshadowed by her prim erectness. I was tanned because I refused to wear a hat most of the time, and my body, unlike hers, was larger and plumper. Better for bearing children, but not the body that men adored. Lily stood three inches shorter than me, and her body was perfectly hourglass shaped. She looked tiny, but not too tiny to have children. For these and many other reasons, I almost wished she had stayed in England and let me be.

When we arrived at the fort, my haughtiness had begun to drain. I struggled to maintain a sense of loftiness, especially because I wanted—nay, needed to remain superior in the presence of the soon-to-be Commodore Norrington. I banished the condescending thoughts in my head that I was being exactly what I hated in Norrington. I had to maintain a distance between the Commodore and myself in order to show him the kind of wife I would be to him. However, in my secret heart, I knew that he would propose to me sooner or later. I just couldn’t accept it. No, I wouldn’t accept it. I would not just parrot around and be a prissy lady like others in my position. I would not be just an ordinary governor’s daughter with no control over her life. This I vowed to myself as we were escorted to the top courtyard. Sentries watched high above us, cloaked in red suits and black helmets. Father escorted us to the sidelines with the other nobles, where we took out our fans and watched him proudly take his place at the front along with the new sword for Norrington. I fidgeted, attempting to breathe, but Lily poked me with the end of her parasol. I forced myself to stand straight, but I fanned frantically so that I wouldn’t faint.

Presently, soldiers clothed in blue marched out and took their places on either side of the courtyard. Still the march did not begin, and I had to almost jerk my eyes open so as to not go to sleep in the rising heat. Finally, the march began to play. Other soldiers in red marched out with guns and bayonets fastened to the end of them. Those at the front bore the British flag. Sweat began to eke from my pores, and one drop slid into my bodice, where it moistened the medallion. I discreetly glanced down at it, wondering why I had not found the time to take it off before we left. Well, it did not matter now.

The soldiers stood back to back, marching in place. They said all this soldier stuff, and Norrington appeared at the back, wearing a blue suit and a white powdered wig. The soldiers marched two paces forward, pivoted back, and then crossed bayonets above their heads to form a bridge. Norrington marched beneath the bridge, hands behind his back, placing one foot securely in front of the other. I fought the bile rising in my throat. Norrington reached my father and was presented the sword. He pointed it at the sky and flipped it around. I cared not for all the ceremony. I disguised a cough behind my fan, but retched when Lily patted my back. All the people looked at me, and I smiled sarcastically. I hated how they turned their eyes back to the Commodore with looks like, “Oh, it’s only Elizabeth. She’s not fit to be here.”

Somehow, the ceremony ended. The reception was held in a hall near the courtyard, where a dance and a dinner was held. I stood off to the side, trying to avoid Norrington and Lily. Unfortunately, the pig found me because I was lost in watching the dance and not looking out for him. He bowed politely and asked, “May a have a moment?”

“Yes, darling. Why don’t I kiss you?” I wanted to say, and then fling him headlong into the punch bowl. However, I followed him to the corner of the fort that looked out on the bay, stepping up beside a pillar to support myself and still fanning like my life depended on it.

Norrington stood a few paces away from me, watching me. I had a very bad feeling about this and wanted to fling myself into the bay, away from him. “You look lovely, Elizabeth,” he managed.

You do too, pig. I would love to eat you for dinner. I smiled slightly, grimacing. The corset was choking me.

“I . . . uh, apologize if I seem forward, but I . . . must speak my mind,” the pig began, turning his face away from me. I mentally berated myself. The man was obviously nervous. I should be sensitive. Sensitive as the grease in the pan, awaiting the bacon.

He paced. “This . . . promotion throws into sharp relief that which I have not yet achieved . . .” He turned and looked at me. “A marriage to a fine woman.” Oh great, I’m marrying swine. Mr. and Mrs. Ham! Our children will be Bacon, Pig, and Hog. We made eye contact, and I realized that I was being cruel when I saw the seriousness in his eyes. “You have become a fine woman, Elizabeth.”

I leaned over. “I can’t breathe,” I gasped. I did not hear what he said next, for I felt myself falling through black, thin air. I knew no more.