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Epilogue: Stories

1 - 550 words

Jack was in a truly foul mood by the time he got back to Shelmerston, even though the return journey had gone more quickly. Not quick enough, though. The maidservant Ruth had to be delivered home, a two and a half day journey even at top speed, and she would chatter on like a magpie, exclaiming over everything from the flawless weather to her surprise at how very well-to-do was Nell's grandmother.

"I never saw the like! Why, you could have knocked me over with a feather when we rounded the bend and there was that big house at the end of the drive! Prime is what I call it. Some folk have all the luck."

Some folk did, it seemed. Nell's had certainly held true, for she had come out of her adventure mostly unscathed. Oh, he'd no doubt her grandmother suspected what had passed between them, but she didn't seem the sort to hold it against the lass. Probably held it against him, truth be told, but it was a moot point now. They'd all parted on the friendliest of terms, and she'd even called Jack back in at the last minute to write out a draft against her bank for him, "to cover expenses". Two hundred pounds. A goodly sum, though not a fortune. Still it would appease Barbossa's greed to a certain extent, and God knew what a problem that could be.

After ridding himself of Ruth, he was left to accomplish the last leg of the journey in solitary state, affording him time for reflection that he found to be not altogether beneficial. Certainly he would recover, but there was no denying he'd taken a wound. Not mortal, but a very palpable hit, and over a chit of a girl, fool that he was.

He was in great need of a drink or five by the time he walked into the Rusty Goat by Shelmerston harbor and it was with real relief that he saw that Bill Turner was waiting for him at a table near the back, just as he'd asked. For the first time in days he smiled, in reply to Bill's greeting.

"No trouble, then?" Bill asked, and there was pity on his face, damn him.

"Not in the least. Grandmother welcomed her with open arms." And had even had a suitor waiting: Jack had seen how that fellow Grayson had looked at Nell, and Nell herself had introduced the man, an old family friend apparently. But that wasn't something Bill needed to know.

"That's good to hear," Bill said. "But listen Jack—and I'll wager this'll take your mind off Nell."

He bridled, but when Bootstrap told him of a crazy old Spaniard that'd come into this same tavern a few hours earlier, trying to sell a magic compass and information about the legendary treasure of Hernando Cortez, his ears pricked up.

Bill said, "He's tryin' to get back to Spain, wants two hundred pounds for the compass and the bearings. Isla de Muerta the place is called. Can't get more sinister than that, eh? Do you think there's anything to it?"

"Could be, could be," Jack mused. He'd heard about the legend. And two hundred pounds: exactly the amount of the draft in his pocket.

It almost seemed like fate.

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2 – 450 words

Twins! Madame Pelletier was completely aux anges, the exigencies of the past three months entirely forgotten!

Well, not entirely.

Her daughter was recovering well from what must have been a most difficult lying in – twins, no less, and her mother unable to attend the birth. It was too, too bad. But now the girl was most anxious to hear her parents' tale of terror and woe on the high seas. Attacked by pirates! Everything stolen! The so beautiful Giselle abducted and forced to serve as a ship's cat on a filthy pirate vessel! It did not bear thinking of. Madame would not mention the vile threats to her own person, though indeed she had suffered from nervous palpitations for an entire fortnight following the incident.

"Your father was so brave in defending me, my dear! And this in spite of his illness, for he was suffering dreadfully from the ague, which is indigenous to Hispaniola. He would have routed them all if he had not succumbed to the malady at that moment."

"But Mama! Papa looks to be in the pink of health!"

Madame smiled. "It is very true. Captain Récamier it was that saw Papa's plight and brought him the cure from the chest of remedies that he had kept secreted from the pirates in his cabin. Jesuit's Bark it is called. One makes it into a tea, which is taken several times a day. It is most efficacious, your father began to feel better almost at once."

"Oh, bless the captain! That almost makes up for your terrible losses, for when one has health one has everything!"

"Very true, my love," Madame agreed. "I am almost ashamed to say that I miss some of my things. So much lost to those horrid men!"

Yet two days later, when a package was delivered to Madame, her transports were almost as great as those produced by her twin grandsons when it was found to contain the jewels that had been stolen from her on the ship, a beautiful collection, but more notable for sentimental than monetary value.

"There is no note, nothing to indicate who sent them. I cannot believe any of those dreadful men would have found it in him to restore them to me, though of course our direction was on each of the trunks they stole. But what other explanation can there be?"

"It is a great mystery, Mama, and I doubt it will ever be solved. You must say a prayer of thanks tonight, that the good God will bless the one who had a change of heart. But now come and look! Nurse says it is only wind, but I believe little Georges is smiling!"

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3 – 1500

"Nell! They're here, darling!"

"So soon? I shall be down directly."

Nell rose from the chaise where she had been resting and almost immediately her maid entered the room.

"You'll not go down there without a shawl, ma'am," Jane said, firmly, and went to fetch her warmest wrap.

Nell rolled her eyes. Between her maid and her husband one would have thought she was an invalid. "Jane, I have never felt better in my life!" she protested.

But it was useless.

"There's an east wind blowing, and you know very well how the draft comes into that drawing room. Remember, you need to be wise for two now," Jane said, quite severely.

The truth of this was undeniable, and Nell submitted to being draped in the shawl, and even had the grace to say meekly, "Thank you, Jane," before leaving the room and walking with stately tread down the hall.

There was a mirror on the wall opposite the staircase and Nell caught a glimpse of her pregnant self reflected at full length and thought, Oh, my goodness! What would Jack think of me now?

It was very odd. Jack Sparrow was often in her thoughts lately, more than he had been for many months past.

It was now two years since Jack had delivered her home to her grandmother and sadly drove away, leaving her bereft. She had missed him dreadfully at first, though in company she had carried on with dogged stoicism. Unthinkable, and abominably ill-bred, to inflict one's melancholy on all and sundry! In private, however, it had been another matter, and Nell had shed many tears over the loss of her dear friend and lover. There would never be another like him. Never.

Yet over the next year it was gradually born in upon her that someone different would not necessarily be undesirable. With much stealthy encouragement from her grandmother, and against her own better judgment, she had fallen in love once more, and this time with a man she'd known most of her life: Laurence Grayson.

Laurie had been there that night and had seen Jack, and had even (she found out later) suspected she and Jack had been lovers. Yet almost from the moment of her return he'd set his sights on her and began to make up to her quite shamelessly. This was, of course, against her wishes, for she could never marry, she was most resolved on that point. She was no longer an innocent maid, and moreover it seemed as though her heart had been lost to Jack along with her maidenhead. Laurie's attentions had upset her extremely, particularly when she sensed that she had begun to return his regard.

It would not do. So she told him everything.

Well, not everything.

But most of it. And instead of washing his hands of her the absurd creature had begged her to marry him!

She had of course refused.

They had continued friends, or so she thought. But several months later, when he surprised her by asking again, she realized that her liking had altered to a much warmer sentiment, and she would be churlish to continue to refuse his suit on the grounds that she was no fit wife for him when he knew very well what she was and yet persisted in his fond adoration.

Accordingly, they were married and, after a honeymoon during which she discovered that her new spouse was also most happily conversant with Books of India, he brought her home to Linden Park, his estate that bordered on her grandmother's, and to a life of wedded bliss.

Now they awaited the birth of their first child, and Nell had never been happier. But certain things had recently brought Jack Sparrow much to mind. Perhaps it was her longing for sunshine and warmer weather. It was March, and winter was proving very tedious. Or perhaps it was the fact that Laurie's good friend, Weatherby Swann, had been appointed Governor of Jamaica and would be taking ship for that exotic isle in less than a week, along with his young daughter, Elizabeth. Nell had been wholly envious since she had heard of Swann's appointment.

Swann's daughter, however, was less happy and it was for this reason that she and her father were paying a visit today.

Swann had dined with them a few months ago and his prospective appointment had been a topic of discussion. The conversation had then drifted to the delights and trials of the entire West Indies. Nell had entered into this with some enthusiasm, for over the course of time the difficulties she had encountered during her sojourn had begun to fade into the background of memory, leaving the remainder bathed in a golden glow of sun, sea, and Jack's smile. She did not, of course, mention the latter except in remarking favorably on the agreeable nature of individuals she had encountered and the population in general, but she had been able to give more detailed praise of the region's natural history.

When Swann's appointment was confirmed, and little Elizabeth expressed her dissatisfaction, the indulgent father remembered Nell's account and asked her to speak to the child. Nell felt she could not refuse, and it had been arranged that the pair should come to dinner.

Now father and daughter were standing in the foyer as Nell descended the stairs, Swann elegantly dressed in puce velvet and gold lace, and Elizabeth prettily gowned and standing very straight as she looked up at Nell's husband, who was greeting her with his usual charm and the deference due a lady, which must gratify the child.

"But here is my wife coming to join us!" Laurie exclaimed, and hurried over to give Nell his arm down the remainder of the steps. "Nell, here is our friend, Governor Swann—"

"Indeed. How do you do, sir?" Nell smiled.

"Very well, I thank you," Swann said, bowing over her hand. "And you look charming this evening, my dear."

"You are too kind," Nell said, meaning it, for though there was another month before her lying in she was feeling somewhat unwieldy already. There would be no mounting to the Pearl's fighting top in this state!

This facetious thought sent a warmth to her cheeks, even as her eyes met the wide ones of Elizabeth Swann. The doting father introduced them, and the girl sank in a creditable curtsey.

"I am so happy to finally meet you!" Nell told her. "Would you care to step upstairs to my rooms. We have an hour before dinner is served. I shall have tea brought up and we can be comfortable. My husband is most anxious to show your father our new greenhouse and his achievements in the cultivation of epiphytes and bromeliads, but I daresay you might prefer sitting warm by the fire, and meeting my beautiful French cat."

"Oh, yes, if you please!" said Elizabeth, glancing at her father and Nell's husband with a wondering, almost horrified expression.

A few minutes later, Elizabeth was seated in the blue wing chair petting Giselle, who had deigned to be held.

"She likes you," Nell said.

"I like her, too! Did you get her in Paris?"

"No. In the West Indies."

Elizabeth's face grew solemn. She said, after a moment, "We are going to live in Jamaica."

"I know," said Nell, gently. "You are so fortunate! It's a most beautiful place!"

"You've been there?"

"Yes, and to several other islands. I liked it immensely."

"Then why did you not stay?" Elizabeth asked, cocking her head like some curious bird.

A most intelligent bird.

Nell said, "I accompanied my mother to the islands, but she died, and I felt that it was my duty to return to England, to my grandmother. If circumstances had permitted… but alas, they did not."

"You would have stayed?"

"I might have done. I loved the islands, and the people. Some of them."

Elizabeth fell silent for a minute, continuing to stroke the cat. Presently she said, "Giselle is French?"

"Yes. Her previous owner was from France. But she was given to me by a pirate!"

"A pirate!" Elizabeth's eyes grew round. "You met a pirate?"

"I met a great many of them, as it happens," said Nell, smiling.

"Do you think I will meet any? What are they like?"

"It is possible you may meet a pirate. They are thick on the ground in some areas of the West Indies."

"Oh, tell me about them! Are they very wicked? But no: you said Giselle was a gift from one!"

"She was." Nell grew misty, remembering. She said to Elizabeth, "There are pirates and pirates. They are all different, every one of them, just as are other men. They come in all shapes and sizes, some wicked, others less so, though none are paragons of virtue. But there are a few that, though they would have you think otherwise, are kind and brave and true. Good men. Very good men, indeed."

Finis!