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the_dala at 10:53pm on 06/06/2007 under fic: pirates of the caribbean
the_dala at 10:53pm on 06/06/2007 under fic: pirates of the caribbeanA shortish fic about what Estrella was up to during the course of DMC and AWE, and how she meets her mistress again. Spoilers. What can I say, I love minor characters. Title from Great Big Sea.
Home for a Rest
Estrella had a world of trouble finding a place after Governor Swann died. He’d kept her on when Miss Elizabeth had run away, though she was a lady’s maid and he had no need of her; she supposed he kept hoping his only child would come home. But she never did. Estrella was fond of her mistress, who sometimes had a sharp tongue but was generally kinder and more interested in Estrella’s comfort than she had any right to expect. She missed the girl and prayed that no harm would come to her, yet at the same time she believed it was Miss Elizabeth’s fault that her father was fading so. Everyone knew he did whatever Cutler Beckett said, no heart to put up resistance - though they still cursed both names when the hangings started.
She was lucky to escape, considering Miss Elizabeth was still wanted by the Crown and Estrella had lived in close quarters with her for years. Governor Swann protested when she was brought in for questioning, but she knew it wasn’t him that saved her from the gallows – it was just that she really didn’t have any idea where Miss Elizabeth or Will Turner might go, who they might speak to. Her mistress had shared memory and mention of her time aboard the pirate ship only with her fiancé, since Governor Swann hated to hear of it and wished to pretend it never happened. Estrella was deeply afraid of Lord Beckett and the way he smiled so genteelly while his eyes were cold as a fish. But she had nothing to tell him, hadn’t even been off the island since she was a small girl, and he could find no reason to keep her. She wasn’t important enough, at that.
Port Royal was in a sort of limbo after Lord Beckett lost his ship, his great battle, and his life. The governor’s servants, though they had been faithful through it all, turned out one by one to look for new jobs. Where Estrella’s connection to Miss Elizabeth had saved her from a sacking at the governor’s house, it now kept her out of many respectable homes. Folk were still fearful of the hangman and it was widely rumored that Elizabeth Swann was not dead, but sacking English ships with ruthless abandon. Estrella found this easier to believe that she would’ve liked; however, she wouldn’t for a moment hear the whispers that Miss Elizabeth was the bride of Davy Jones. How could any lass consent to marry such a horrid villain when she’d had Will Turner and Commodore Norrington for her beaus, even if both men were now dead? Even that rapscallion Jack Sparrow would be a likelier choice.
She wore her newest gown and did her best, but young mothers feared that any influence from Elizabeth Swann’s tragic life might lead their own babes astray, so they turned Estrella aside time and again. She knew she couldn’t stay with her brother for too long – he had four mouths to feed already and a shrewish wife who wanted Estrella gone. After weeks of fruitless interviews, she at last found a position in a middling-wealthy merchant’s house with a teenage girl and three boys aged ten, seven, and three. Since Mistress Carey already had a lady’s maid, the children were put in her charge. The girl was snooty and the middle boy a terror, but Estrella was so grateful for the job that she tried not to mind wiping runny noses and finding frogs in her apron pocket. Somewhat harder to endure were Master Carey’s clumsy gropes, but the household was so lively that he didn’t manage to catch or corner her often. Anyway, he left off bothering her when Tom Pauley started showing up to take her to church.
On Wednesdays and Saturdays Cook went to visit her invalid daughter, charging Estrella with the shopping. Tom was the Queen Street baker’s son, whom she’d seen sometimes when she went for sweets with Miss Elizabeth. He wasn’t so handsome as Will Turner, but he wasn’t as shy either. He liked to tease Miss Elizabeth and she gave it right back, so Estrella never realized he’d noticed the little maid at all.
When she came for the Careys, he looked right at her and seemed to smile for her alone. She was flattered by that, and she liked his winking blue eyes and the way he worked the dough with his large, strong hands. Soon he was walking her home, and soon after that they were ducking under doorways to share fevered kisses and whisper sweet words to one another. His mother made her approval known after they’d been courting for two months; they set the wedding for three weeks hence. Then and only then did she let him tumble her in the Careys’ stable and sneak down into her little cellar room after the family had gone to bed. His hands were good at working lots of things, as it turned out.
After the wedding, they moved into an apartment behind the bakery. It might have been a trial and a strain on their new marriage if his family had been a lesser sort of people. As it was, Estrella felt like they were her own blood kin. She worked the shop counter, welcoming customers with a smile and a slice of hot, fresh bread, and didn’t miss much about her former lot in life.
It was an early, easy evening when that life found her again. She’d gone to the Kings Arms to pick up a bottle of whiskey for Tom’s birthday and fell to talking with the proprietor, who had a weakness for their Shrewsburg cakes. It was much later than she realized when she set off back home. Keeping her head down and her eyes fixed firmly ahead, she didn’t see the figure who stepped out of an alley just after she passed.
“Estrella?”
The low voice was familiar. Assuming it was a loyal customer, she turned around to behold a young man in a dark cloak and battered tricorn.
“Sorry, sir, it’s dreadfully late and I must be getting back home,” she said, her heartbeat quickening.
The figure stepped forward, doffing his hat – except it wasn’t a he, it was a she. In point of fact, it was Miss Elizabeth Swann.
Estrella stared at her former mistress. It hadn’t really been so long since she’d left, scarcely a year, but so much had changed that it felt like a lifetime. Miss Elizabeth’s hair was pulled back in a tight queue and she was wearing men’s boots, likely men’s breeches beneath the shapeless cloak. So at least those rumors were true. Perhaps Estrella should have been afraid, but she couldn’t really believe the other woman would harm her, pirate or no.
“Miss Elizabeth!” Her voice warmed with sincerity. “You’re all right – we’d thought you might be dead after –”
A pained expression crossed Elizabeth’s face. Though her cheeks were rounded and rosy enough, she looked worn out and not much like the bright, clever girl Estrella remembered.
“After my father, yes. That’s why I’m here, actually – I’ve heard they haven’t yet sold the house.”
“No, the new governor’s in Kingston now,” said Estrella, shaking her head. “And enough folk have moved ‘cross the bay that there’s not much of a market. But Miss Elizabeth – I’m afraid they did sell off much of what was inside.”
She shuffled her feet, but Elizabeth only sighed in resignation. “Of course they did. But we had some things hidden that might have been missed. I’ll just –” She let out a soft gasp and crossed an arm across her midsection. Estrella reached out to her by reflex, gasping herself when she realized what the cloak concealed.
“Hush,” Elizabeth whispered, ducking back into the alley and pulling Estrella with her. Chin drooping, she rubbed her large belly with both hands, seemingly lost in the motion. Estrella tried to hide her amazement. No wonder she was tired – the babe looked like quite a burden for such a slender frame as Elizabeth always had.
Matching the other woman’s quiet voice, she touched her wrist and asked, “How far along?”
“Twenty-six weeks and four days exactly,” Elizabeth replied with a short, odd laugh. She stretched, bringing her hands together at the small of her back. “Ah, that’s better.”
Estrella couldn’t quite bring herself to ask, but her face must’ve been plain because Elizabeth added stiffly, “It’s Will’s. We were married after all.” There was some light in her eyes at that, but it quickly faded into a hungry loss. “But he’s gone for a time, for reasons neither of us could control. Estrella…” Elizabeth grabbed her arms, face suddenly intent and beseeching. “If you have any love for me left, you won’t tell anyone you’ve seen me. I’ll be gone on the morning tide, but I need to get some things from the false floor of the garden shed – do you know if anyone’s discovered it?”
“I can't be sure.” Estrella hadn’t known of it, though she used to kiss the gardener’s boy in that shed. “I don’t think so. Are they valuable, the things you’ve left?”
Elizabeth drew a pistol from an inner pocket of her cloak, failing to notice Estrella’s alarm as she checked the shot. “Some of them. My father knew Beckett was coming, or someone of his ilk, anyway.” Her lip curled in disgust. “We weren’t sure when, so we hid some money and jewels – from my mother’s dowry, mostly. And a few things which have value only for me.”
There was that sadness in her again, right beside the strength indicated by the pistol. Cozy in her new family, preparing to move into her own first home, Estrella thought she felt more pity for Elizabeth Swann – or Turner, she supposed – than she’d ever felt for a person before.
More than ever, she was reminded of just how perilous her state of happiness could be, and she was loath to bring danger into her home. But this was no beggar preying on a soft heart; this was a lonely woman younger than Estrella herself, with need of the kindness she could offer.
“Come back with me,” she urged, squeezing Elizabeth’s hand. “You can stay with my husband and me, and we’ll go for your things in the morning.”
Elizabeth bit her lip. Estrella could see that she was struggling against the tug of memory and familiarity to refuse. “Estrella, you’re very kind, but I still have a price on my head – I cannot let you have anything more to do with me.”
“Nonsense,” she said in the same brisk tone she’d used when she caught Elizabeth reading at night. “You and that baby could do with some home cooking – I’ll bake a rum cake. Is it still your favorite?”
She shut her eyes – not before Estrella saw a few tears form – and nodded. Estrella tugged the cloak straight and took her arm, leading her in the direction of Queen Street.
Maybe she did have a ship waiting, or maybe she had nothing but whatever scraps were left in the shed. It made no difference to Estrella, no more than whatever crimes she had committed during her absence. She would see Elizabeth safely to bed just as she used to, even if it was only for this night.
Home for a Rest
Estrella had a world of trouble finding a place after Governor Swann died. He’d kept her on when Miss Elizabeth had run away, though she was a lady’s maid and he had no need of her; she supposed he kept hoping his only child would come home. But she never did. Estrella was fond of her mistress, who sometimes had a sharp tongue but was generally kinder and more interested in Estrella’s comfort than she had any right to expect. She missed the girl and prayed that no harm would come to her, yet at the same time she believed it was Miss Elizabeth’s fault that her father was fading so. Everyone knew he did whatever Cutler Beckett said, no heart to put up resistance - though they still cursed both names when the hangings started.
She was lucky to escape, considering Miss Elizabeth was still wanted by the Crown and Estrella had lived in close quarters with her for years. Governor Swann protested when she was brought in for questioning, but she knew it wasn’t him that saved her from the gallows – it was just that she really didn’t have any idea where Miss Elizabeth or Will Turner might go, who they might speak to. Her mistress had shared memory and mention of her time aboard the pirate ship only with her fiancé, since Governor Swann hated to hear of it and wished to pretend it never happened. Estrella was deeply afraid of Lord Beckett and the way he smiled so genteelly while his eyes were cold as a fish. But she had nothing to tell him, hadn’t even been off the island since she was a small girl, and he could find no reason to keep her. She wasn’t important enough, at that.
Port Royal was in a sort of limbo after Lord Beckett lost his ship, his great battle, and his life. The governor’s servants, though they had been faithful through it all, turned out one by one to look for new jobs. Where Estrella’s connection to Miss Elizabeth had saved her from a sacking at the governor’s house, it now kept her out of many respectable homes. Folk were still fearful of the hangman and it was widely rumored that Elizabeth Swann was not dead, but sacking English ships with ruthless abandon. Estrella found this easier to believe that she would’ve liked; however, she wouldn’t for a moment hear the whispers that Miss Elizabeth was the bride of Davy Jones. How could any lass consent to marry such a horrid villain when she’d had Will Turner and Commodore Norrington for her beaus, even if both men were now dead? Even that rapscallion Jack Sparrow would be a likelier choice.
She wore her newest gown and did her best, but young mothers feared that any influence from Elizabeth Swann’s tragic life might lead their own babes astray, so they turned Estrella aside time and again. She knew she couldn’t stay with her brother for too long – he had four mouths to feed already and a shrewish wife who wanted Estrella gone. After weeks of fruitless interviews, she at last found a position in a middling-wealthy merchant’s house with a teenage girl and three boys aged ten, seven, and three. Since Mistress Carey already had a lady’s maid, the children were put in her charge. The girl was snooty and the middle boy a terror, but Estrella was so grateful for the job that she tried not to mind wiping runny noses and finding frogs in her apron pocket. Somewhat harder to endure were Master Carey’s clumsy gropes, but the household was so lively that he didn’t manage to catch or corner her often. Anyway, he left off bothering her when Tom Pauley started showing up to take her to church.
On Wednesdays and Saturdays Cook went to visit her invalid daughter, charging Estrella with the shopping. Tom was the Queen Street baker’s son, whom she’d seen sometimes when she went for sweets with Miss Elizabeth. He wasn’t so handsome as Will Turner, but he wasn’t as shy either. He liked to tease Miss Elizabeth and she gave it right back, so Estrella never realized he’d noticed the little maid at all.
When she came for the Careys, he looked right at her and seemed to smile for her alone. She was flattered by that, and she liked his winking blue eyes and the way he worked the dough with his large, strong hands. Soon he was walking her home, and soon after that they were ducking under doorways to share fevered kisses and whisper sweet words to one another. His mother made her approval known after they’d been courting for two months; they set the wedding for three weeks hence. Then and only then did she let him tumble her in the Careys’ stable and sneak down into her little cellar room after the family had gone to bed. His hands were good at working lots of things, as it turned out.
After the wedding, they moved into an apartment behind the bakery. It might have been a trial and a strain on their new marriage if his family had been a lesser sort of people. As it was, Estrella felt like they were her own blood kin. She worked the shop counter, welcoming customers with a smile and a slice of hot, fresh bread, and didn’t miss much about her former lot in life.
It was an early, easy evening when that life found her again. She’d gone to the Kings Arms to pick up a bottle of whiskey for Tom’s birthday and fell to talking with the proprietor, who had a weakness for their Shrewsburg cakes. It was much later than she realized when she set off back home. Keeping her head down and her eyes fixed firmly ahead, she didn’t see the figure who stepped out of an alley just after she passed.
“Estrella?”
The low voice was familiar. Assuming it was a loyal customer, she turned around to behold a young man in a dark cloak and battered tricorn.
“Sorry, sir, it’s dreadfully late and I must be getting back home,” she said, her heartbeat quickening.
The figure stepped forward, doffing his hat – except it wasn’t a he, it was a she. In point of fact, it was Miss Elizabeth Swann.
Estrella stared at her former mistress. It hadn’t really been so long since she’d left, scarcely a year, but so much had changed that it felt like a lifetime. Miss Elizabeth’s hair was pulled back in a tight queue and she was wearing men’s boots, likely men’s breeches beneath the shapeless cloak. So at least those rumors were true. Perhaps Estrella should have been afraid, but she couldn’t really believe the other woman would harm her, pirate or no.
“Miss Elizabeth!” Her voice warmed with sincerity. “You’re all right – we’d thought you might be dead after –”
A pained expression crossed Elizabeth’s face. Though her cheeks were rounded and rosy enough, she looked worn out and not much like the bright, clever girl Estrella remembered.
“After my father, yes. That’s why I’m here, actually – I’ve heard they haven’t yet sold the house.”
“No, the new governor’s in Kingston now,” said Estrella, shaking her head. “And enough folk have moved ‘cross the bay that there’s not much of a market. But Miss Elizabeth – I’m afraid they did sell off much of what was inside.”
She shuffled her feet, but Elizabeth only sighed in resignation. “Of course they did. But we had some things hidden that might have been missed. I’ll just –” She let out a soft gasp and crossed an arm across her midsection. Estrella reached out to her by reflex, gasping herself when she realized what the cloak concealed.
“Hush,” Elizabeth whispered, ducking back into the alley and pulling Estrella with her. Chin drooping, she rubbed her large belly with both hands, seemingly lost in the motion. Estrella tried to hide her amazement. No wonder she was tired – the babe looked like quite a burden for such a slender frame as Elizabeth always had.
Matching the other woman’s quiet voice, she touched her wrist and asked, “How far along?”
“Twenty-six weeks and four days exactly,” Elizabeth replied with a short, odd laugh. She stretched, bringing her hands together at the small of her back. “Ah, that’s better.”
Estrella couldn’t quite bring herself to ask, but her face must’ve been plain because Elizabeth added stiffly, “It’s Will’s. We were married after all.” There was some light in her eyes at that, but it quickly faded into a hungry loss. “But he’s gone for a time, for reasons neither of us could control. Estrella…” Elizabeth grabbed her arms, face suddenly intent and beseeching. “If you have any love for me left, you won’t tell anyone you’ve seen me. I’ll be gone on the morning tide, but I need to get some things from the false floor of the garden shed – do you know if anyone’s discovered it?”
“I can't be sure.” Estrella hadn’t known of it, though she used to kiss the gardener’s boy in that shed. “I don’t think so. Are they valuable, the things you’ve left?”
Elizabeth drew a pistol from an inner pocket of her cloak, failing to notice Estrella’s alarm as she checked the shot. “Some of them. My father knew Beckett was coming, or someone of his ilk, anyway.” Her lip curled in disgust. “We weren’t sure when, so we hid some money and jewels – from my mother’s dowry, mostly. And a few things which have value only for me.”
There was that sadness in her again, right beside the strength indicated by the pistol. Cozy in her new family, preparing to move into her own first home, Estrella thought she felt more pity for Elizabeth Swann – or Turner, she supposed – than she’d ever felt for a person before.
More than ever, she was reminded of just how perilous her state of happiness could be, and she was loath to bring danger into her home. But this was no beggar preying on a soft heart; this was a lonely woman younger than Estrella herself, with need of the kindness she could offer.
“Come back with me,” she urged, squeezing Elizabeth’s hand. “You can stay with my husband and me, and we’ll go for your things in the morning.”
Elizabeth bit her lip. Estrella could see that she was struggling against the tug of memory and familiarity to refuse. “Estrella, you’re very kind, but I still have a price on my head – I cannot let you have anything more to do with me.”
“Nonsense,” she said in the same brisk tone she’d used when she caught Elizabeth reading at night. “You and that baby could do with some home cooking – I’ll bake a rum cake. Is it still your favorite?”
She shut her eyes – not before Estrella saw a few tears form – and nodded. Estrella tugged the cloak straight and took her arm, leading her in the direction of Queen Street.
Maybe she did have a ship waiting, or maybe she had nothing but whatever scraps were left in the shed. It made no difference to Estrella, no more than whatever crimes she had committed during her absence. She would see Elizabeth safely to bed just as she used to, even if it was only for this night.
calm
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