the Dalaverse

So who remembers "A Simple Twist of Fate?"

Right, me neither. At least not until today, when I was sitting in Bio, bound and determined to make some headway on a WIP. This one offered itself up, so here's this little snippet. I'll complete the chapter with a bit from Elizabeth and a bit of Jack and James warily circling each other. Feedback extra-appreciated, since I'm still dipping my toes back in the water on this one.

And I would like to formally apologize to Will Turner the Second for having left him standing on a ladder beneath Elizabeth's window since April. Look, I give you pretty, clever girl. Make with the wooing already.


Will had faced a great many ruthless foes in his young life, and he was determined not to be bested by a scraggly bunch of ugly leaves.

He’d spent the remainder of the previous night scrambling around town for the scattered crew, desperate for any horticultural tips they might possess. Mostly he had received blank looks and boozy hiccups. Gibbs had offered up a tale about bloodthirsty sea fronds in the Strait of Gibraltar. Anamaria chose to take offense (“Y’think just ‘cause I’m a woman I know ‘bout flowers?”) and slapped him. Only quick application of a butter-and-cocoa-powder poultice had prevented a lingering mark, or so Anamaria claimed; he privately suspected her remedy had ‘worked’ only because she hadn’t hit as hard as she might have.

To his great relief, a few polite questions about his beloved gardens had prompted Governor Swann to talking about them for nearly an hour. Will committed as much information as possible to memory before Swann suddenly exclaimed, “Dear me, how I’ve run on!” He dispatched Will with a first assignment: trimming the creeping vines around back of the grand house. It had seemed a simple enough task as he was uncovering the gardening tools from the small wooden shed.

The trouble was, these vines had never come up in the discussion. Will hadn’t the slightest idea what they were or where he should begin.

“Well, nothing doing,” he muttered to himself with a sigh, adjusting the ladder next to the wall. The trellis to which the vines clung looked like it would support his weight, but there was no use in taking such a chance his first day on the job.

He peered upwards. At this position, the ladder came to a stop just under a balcony with French doors on the second story. The thought of climbing did not deter him after all the hours he’d spent in the Pearl’s rigging, so he figured it would be easiest to get the higher reach taken care of and then work his way down. At least, he reasoned as he climbed, this ladder did not pitch and roll with the waves...yet strangely enough, he was so accustomed to the sea’s movement that the stillness under his feet threatened to make him queasy. He stared at the sprawling vines for a moment before clipping off a wayward curl. When the whole mess didn’t immediately shrivel up and die, his mood perked up. He slowly clipped his way to the top of the ladder, hooking his arms over the stone rail on the balconey and admiring his handiwork. It was not until he glanced up at the vines creeping over the doorway that he noticed the doors were flung open.

He didn’t mean to snoop. It was only that he became aware of his clear view into the room, and an instant later he was aware of the girl.

She stood at the foot of a lavishly-hung bed, folding a blue silk dressing gown, turned toward the window as though she sought the sun. He saw first that she was beautiful – noted the tumbling brown curls gilded by the light, her delicate-boned face with its pert nose and sensuous lips. She was fairly tall and not long out of gangly, awkward youth, he’d wager. Her white gown curved over small breasts, slim hips, long legs, down to bare feet and toes curling in the rug --

He was caught by the sight of her, unable to move or think or breathe until she glanced up. Wide-set brown eyes grew round, she opened her mouth to scream, and Will tumbled backward off the ladder.

It was not as long a fall as he’d feared, though he did have time to draw his arms and legs into his body as Jack had taught him. The impact knocked the wind from him, leaving him gasping and helpless for a long, panicked moment.

When the stars cleared from his vision, he wiggled each hand and foot, determining that his limbs were probably unbroken. Lifting one arm slowly, he touched his throbbing head, his chest, and his stomach, checking for a wound gotten either from the shears or from the fall itself. No blood – that was lucky.

Last of all, he moved his hips and shoulders, breathing out in sharp relief when he felt no serious pain. He’d seen men fall from aloft and die upon hitting the deck. Worst of all had been young Keller, who had survived breaking his back but might as well have been dead for all the motion he was capable of. He had lain abed for two days before he finally begged for a clean shot to end his suffering. Jack and Gibbs argued for ten minutes before the captain ceded the task to the insistent bo’sun. Even so, Jack was wracked with guilt for a long while. Will had been fifteen at the time, and for a nearly a month Jack restricted his duties to the galley and the hold.

Will rolled onto his side with a groan. Just because he hadn’t broken anything didn’t mean he hadn’t felt the fall. He’d gotten as far as his knees by the time several people came rushing out of the back door of the mansion. Biting his lip, he staggered the rest of the way to his feet.

“Oh! Are you hurt?”

He blinked, still dazed as he stared down at the small, pale hand on his arm. Dragging his eyes up, he discovered that the girl was even more striking up close. And she had a hell of a grip.

“I’m all right,” he said, then remembered his assumed identity. He dropped his gaze and tried his best to look browbeaten. “I’m terribly sorry, miss, I didn’t mean to startle you.”

Her laugh was short and pleasantly low. “It was I who startled you, I’m afraid.” She peered curiously into his face. “Are you sure you’re not injured? I fell out of that tree once –” With the hand that was not still on his arm, she gestured across the garden – “which is not so high as the window, and I broke my arm in two places.”

“Nothing feels broken,” he assured her, pulling his arm carefully out of her grasp. None of the girls at the party last night had been this forward, although he’d gotten the impression that they had wanted to be.

Seeming to recognize the impropiety of the situation at the same time, the girl’s cheeks reddened. She backed up a step, pulling her dressing gown more tightly closed.

“Well, glad as I am that you are unharmed,” she said, her eyes narrowing, “may I ask who you might be, and why you were peeping through my window so early in the morning?”

A discreet cough from behind her signified the grave-faced manservant stepping forward. “He is the new gardener, Miss Swann,” he said to the girl with a deferential nod before receding back against the doorway – though never taking his eyes from the two of them, Will noticed.

“Will Turner – William Turner,” he corrected himself, holding out his hand.

She arched an eyebrow. “Which is it, then? William or Will?”

It was Will’s turn to blush at her lofty tone. “Will, if you please, miss.” Inwardly he was aghast at the way his tongue wanted to trip over itself. He was no cowardly boy – there were scores of women in ports all over the world who could attest to that.

“Elizabeth Swann,” she said, keeping one hand on the belt of her robe while she extended the other. To rid himself of his embarrassing attack of nerves, Will raised it instead of shaking it. Her lashes fluttered faintly when his lips brushed the back of her palm, and her color went bright again.

“It is a pleasure to meet you, Miss Swann,” he said, confidence warming his voice. “Your father spoke very fondly of you.” And he had; the problem was Will’s own perception. For some reason, he had gotten the impression that the man’s only child was just that – a child. A small, plump, dimpled version of the governor himself, not this cool young lady who was looking at him with gradually increasing interest.

“And you as well, Mr. Turner,” she said. “I must return to the house, but please let one of the servants know if you require anything.”

Will smiled in acquiesance, trying not to be terribly obvious about staring at her backside as she turned around. He was not disppointed by what he found, for all that she was such a willowy thing.

Turning back to the ladder, he pressed his fingertips to his face and was surprised to find it overheated. But the sun was rising in the sky, after all, and he had a long, hot day ahead of him.