the Dalaverse

Little Elizabeth-narrated "Fate" snippet. I managed to keep the girl from jumping Will's bones in broad daylight, but only just.





“Oh, Elizabeth, I simply cannot believe your luck!” Mabel Truesdale waved her fan dramatically in front of her face.

It’s a wonder she doesn’t smack that potato of a nose clean off, Elizabeth thought churlishly.

Mabel was staring out the window just as avidly as her sister. “Is he not the most divine creature on God’s green earth?”

“Very...” Anne Clark tilted her head to the side. “Statuesque,” she finished.

“Yes,” agreed Mary with a rapturous sigh. “Like a statue.”

Anne cut her gray eyes at Elizabeth, who bit her lip to curb a smirk. If the Truesdale twins were determined to keep dropping in on her like this, at least they had the sense to bring Anne along. She had roughly the intelligence of the two of them together, and though Elizabeth was often wary of being on the end of her sharp tongue, she was quite good company.

Elizabeth was busy trying not to be so obvious about eyeing the gardener, but unfortunately the other girls were right. He was perfectly handsome, and she could not help watching him surreptitiously as he tended some dark purple flowers near the back doors.

“Did he really see you in your nightshift?” Mary asked, tittering and tugging on one sausage-fat blond curl.

“For shame, Miss Swann,” said Anne with a devious grin. “I thought you’d have more tact than that, adept at fending off men as you are.”

Elizabeth swallowed her tea too quickly in her haste to reply, making her eyes water. “I assure you, I’d no idea he was there. I wasn’t trying to tempt him for God’s sake!”

Anne’s mirth softened immediately. She reached over to clasp her hostess’ knee. “Forgive me, Elizabeth, I speak only in jest. Of course we know you are not...that kind of woman.”

“A loose woman,” Mabel whispered in scandalized delight. “As Mother would say.”

“Your mother so often speaks of things with which she is personally familiar,” Elizabeth muttered to her biscuit.

Anne coughed politely and smoothed her dark hair back. Not even a dim-witted Truesdale could miss the intended dig, even if the rumors about Mrs. Truesdale and the butcher’s son had never reached Mabel’s ears. Eyes narrowing, she said, “I beg your pardon?”

“Look!” said Elizabeth, panicking slightly. “Is that a tattoo at the edge of his sleeve?”

Two heads swivelled to the window so fast that Elizabeth imagined she could hear the creak of joints. Anne gave her a wink before she turned aside as well.

“Where, where?” Mary exclaimed.

“On his left arm,” said Elizabeth, pointing. Will had already stripped off his jacket and vest, much to the pleasure of his admirers. Now he had rolled his sleeves up past his elbows. There was a faint blue smudge visible at the crease of fabric, although truth be told, Elizabeth was more interested in his hands. They were large and sure, and she could well remember the rough touch of his skin on hers – the unexpected softness of his lips...

Damn Father for neglecting to mention his new employee! Elizabeth disliked surprises, and the identity of the new gardener had been a substantial one. Then, too, she was angry with herself for not approaching him last night. Although she still bore a hatred for the rib-cracking, faint-inducing dress, it was bound to foster more self-confidence than thin cotton and silk.

“What do you suppose it’s of?” Mabel asked, forgetting Elizabeth’s slight in the face of this new intrigue.

“Well, Elizabeth’s the one of us who’s spoken with him,” Anne said. Elizabeth, watching out of the corner of her eye as Will mopped sweat from his brow, scarcely noticed. It’s just past two, she thought fretfully. The sun must be brutal right now. He ought to have enough sense to take a break at such an hour.

“I tried to get him to dance with me,” sighed Mary, pouting in a way meant to make her look coy, but which actually made her look like a spoiled child. “Dropped my handkerchief right in front of him.”

“Really, Elizabeth, it’s unfair that you should get him,” said Mabel petulantly. “You’re already practically engaged to the commodore, and he’s the best catch in the Caribbean.”

Elizabeth opened her mouth to say that Will’s presence was her father’s doing and no concern of her own. Instead she heard herself declare, “I am not engaged to Commodore Norrington.”

“You genuinely fancy that boy, don’t you?”Anne’s laughter was as soft and smooth as her voice. Elizabeth’s throat closed on a reply as her face became far too warm.

“Well, of course she does,” said Mabel.

“Who wouldn’t?” added her sister, eyes hazy as she stared out the window.

Anne shook her head in chiding disbelief. “Our Elizabeth, for one. My my, ladies, has the sensible governor’s daughter finally lost her head over something so trivial as a rough-necked, beef-brained sailor?”

“He is not – I –” Elizabeth bit down hard on her lip, silently fuming. Some friends these were – she’d be better off trailing after her father and his contemporaries as she’d done when she was small.

“Prove it, then,” said Anne, her voice a light challenge. “Prove to us that his beauty has absolutely no effect on you.”

Elizabeth shot to her feet, planting her hands on her hips. “Very well, Anne Clark, I will!”

“Elizabeth,” Mary called after her, “where are you going?”

After suitably equipping herself with an excuse, she marched right up to him, aware of the girls watching her from the parlor and stubbornly refusing to look at them

“Here,” she said abruptly, holding out the bucket. “The day is hot, and you look as though you could use the refreshment.”

“Thank you.” He took it with a wide, grateful smile. The water sloshed as he lifted the dipper to his mouth and gulped. He took another dipperful, then to Elizabeth’s startlement, upended the whole bucket over his head. She hopped back a step to avoid being splashed.

“Ah, that’s better,” he sighed, closing his eyes. Impolite as it was, Elizabeth was envious of the relief on his face. Even more arresting was the way his brown hair curled under head and water, the rivulets still coursing down his brow, the way his soaked shirt clung to his torso – there was the tattoo she’d spotted, and oh, nipples –

Perhaps she stared or made some kind of sound, for Will seemed to realize that he’d done something untoward. He blushed beneath his golden tan and ducked his head. “Forgive me, Miss Swann, I fear the sun may have scorched my brains a bit.”

He certainly didn’t talk like a sailor. She almost wished he were as stupid as Anne had implied; it would have made things easier. She would not have gotten this sudden urge to become friendlier with him, for example. “I must ask you to call me Elizabeth, Mr. Turner – Will,” she corrected herself boldly.

“Fair enough,” said Will with a nod. His expression had become impassive, almost coldly so, and he leaned over the blossoms again. “Your friends are watching us, you know. The servants too.”

Elizabeth glanced over her shoulder. “It’s a quiet town. I daresay you will find yourself the subject of intense scrutiny simply for being new.”

“And I daresay you’re accustomed to being scrutinized – and rarely without some kind of equally scrutinizing chaperone.”

Elizabeth looked at him sharply; his eyes were trained on his work, but one corner of his mouth quirked sardonically. She knew she ought to be outraged, but couldn’t quite summon the ire.

“True enough,” she said instead, brushing a loose strand of hair behind her ear, “though I am certainly not accustomed to such familiar talk from a man I’ve only just met.” Or to flirting and teasing so easily in return. Goodness, it’s fun.

If Will was offended or put off by her peeved tone, he didn’t show it. Straightening from his crouch, he lifted his eyebrows and said, “Customs are funny things.”

“Indeed,” said Elizabeth, suddenly at a loss for words. None of the cutting remarks she usually reserved for rash suitors would apply, nor would Norrington’s bland conversational staples. Any clever repertoire faded beneath the warm, heavy weight of his gaze. And she’d been too long in the sun without a hat – she could practically feel the freckles popping out on her nose. “Well, I must be getting back to my guests. Good day, Will.”

He offered her the empty bucket. When their fingers brushed on the handle, Elizabeth was suddenly reminded of her near-disaster on the fort parapet – the lightness of her head, the faintness of her breath, the sudden lurch of her stomach when she started to fall. Which was ridiculous, because she had her feet planted solidly on the ground, and in any case, she fully believed he would catch her.

A little frown stole over Will’s face as he glanced down. Then he removed his hand and shook his dark curls as if to clear his head.

“Good day...Elizabeth,” he said slowly. She was aware of his eyes on her all the way back to the door.

The darkness of the parlor made her blink stars from her vision. Before she could even sit, greedy feminine hands were pulling her forth.

“Goodness, you were out there for ages!”

“He got himself all wet!”

“Whatever were the two of you discussing at such length?”

The room slowly filtered back into neutral colors. Elizabeth found Anne’s eyes fixed intently on her face, and she realized that she had no desire to share this particular secret, even with the girl she’d hesitantly name her closest female friend.

“The plants,” she said, clearing her throat. “Flowers and the weather.”

Later, long after the girls had left, after the garden was empty once more and supper had been set on the table, she frowned at her father and asked, “Why didn’t you tell me we had a new gardener?”


I fell asleep in all three of my classes today. I blame it on the stupid ass master dream.