Adrift

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Faeritales, CoffeeMuse, Ero Sennin - your kindness means so much! Your comments keep me excited about my story and inspire me to write, so it is due to your diligent efforts that I offer up this latest chapter. Faeritales...I have to admit to having stolen a line from your review, I'm sure you'll recognize it when you see it. I simply couldn't think of a better way to put it! And so, the tale goes on...

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Elizabeth stared up and counted the sparkles on the ceiling, thinking fleetingly that they looked like silvery specs in an off-white sky. The vision brought back exactly what she’d been trying to avoid...another memory, this one of sailing beneath a star-encrusted night sky and the dark water reflecting it back so clearly that it almost seemed that they were floating through space.

That had been before the deafening sound of a distant waterfall had shattered the illusion of peace and they’d realized that they were about to plummet off the very edge of the world towards an unknown fate. She remembered her anger welling up until she’d unleashed it upon their captain, who’d acknowledged that they were lost but had seemingly been unfazed by the fact. She’d confronted Barbossa about condemning the entire crew to an all but certain death but his confidence had never wavered, not for a moment, and he’d come to stand right in front of her to face her insolence down.

“Don’t be so unkind,” he’d said, lifting a hand adorned with sharp, dark nails towards her face. She could have moved back, could have indignantly slapped his hand away before he’d reached her, but she’d been mesmerized by what she’d seen his eyes. Through the arrogance and bluster, she’d been struck with the sudden understanding that if those were to be their last moments of life, all Hector Barbossa had wanted was to die with the memory of having finally touched her...not from anger or in cruelty, but gently and with desire.

“Ye may not survive to pass this way again and these be the last friendly words ye’ll hear.”

Her heart should not have pounded so hard at the feel of his rough fingers against her skin. She’d known that those around her would expect her to be disgusted at the liberty he’d taken and so she’d let her lip curl in loathing before a shout of alarm had drawn her attention away completely. But he hadn’t been fooled – she’d seen the certainty in his eyes, the knowledge that he’d provoked an unexpected response with his bold caress. The entire moment had lasted only a few seconds, but the anticipation...the emotion of the moment had made it seem so much longer.

With all that had followed – relief at having found Jack, the discovery that her father had died, the round-about way that they’d made their way back to the land of the living – the rather intimate exchange had been forgotten. But then when she’d found him and Jack at the Brethren Court and when he’d spoken before the motley gathering with such fervour, the feelings had risen again and she’d seen him... had finally seen him...for who he really was. Wild, unafraid and full of passion. A true pirate and a man like no other.

She hadn’t loved him. Admired, without a doubt. Had felt a warm affection for him at times, certainly. And some days, yes...she’d felt lust for him. But she’d loved Will. And perhaps Jack, just a little. No, she hadn’t loved Barbossa. Not back then. At least she didn’t think so.

Elizabeth blinked hard to dispel the thought and sat up in the bed, swinging her legs over the side and staring down at the worn orange shag carpet that covered most of the floors at the safe house. When she had been that Elizabeth, she had been so young...world-weary in some ways but so very childlike in matters of the heart. Perhaps who she was now wasn’t so very different – older, perhaps, but no wiser.

Her backpack was lying half open in front of her and she reached her hand into one of the side pockets, pulling out the sterling silver snake pendant that had once belonged to Barbossa. She wasn’t sure what it was that had compelled her to retrieve it from amongst his scattered belongings. Perhaps she just needed a touchstone with her old world and next to the jian, it had been the most recognizable piece in the cavern. It had been so much a part of his fearsome image – at least, she had always thought so when she saw it around his neck, the ruby glinting in the dim lantern light on the deck at night.

Trying to make sense of her situation made her head hurt so badly that she felt nauseous, almost to the same degree as when she’d awoken after the attack on board Morgan. Coming to terms with her two selves...it was too much. She hadn’t had to feign an illness to convince Jim that she needed to be left alone when they’d departed the Keys; he’d seen for himself the level of her distress and had granted her the solitude she’d requested.

Poor Jim. Or James, as he used to be. She hadn’t wanted to call and ask him to pick her up; she understood that he would take it as encouragement and the dogged pursuit for her affections would begin anew. But Hector had given her little choice and she had to admit that while she’d not wanted to take advantage of the feelings that Jim had for her, she couldn’t have brought herself to ask William for his help. Or Will. God, she felt as though she was trapped on a high-speed carousel, the faces and names from the present and the past twirling about and starting to blur in her mind.

There had been no happily ever after for Elizabeth and Will, any more than there had been for Beth and William. She’d waited for Will Turner’s return for ten years but by the time he’d come home to Jamaica, he was as much of a stranger to her as anyone she’d pass by in the streets. He had been a part of another world for too long to find contentment with his family and when their son had died of consumption shortly after the boy’s twelfth birthday, Will had taken his grief to sea and disappeared. Elizabeth had returned to England and lived out her days near the Brighton shore, watching the sea for a ship that she knew would never return.

Twice she had loved Will Turner and lost him. Twice she’d conceived a child only to have that child die. The oldest loss hurt the most, perhaps because it seemed new to her again. Were both she and Will destined to find one another, generation after generation, only to have their love come apart at the seams at the first true test of its strength? Was that the best she could expect, as one life morphed into another? She didn’t want that. The bleak thought filled Elizabeth with misery.

Elizabeth...or was she still Beth? Neither name seemed completely hers anymore, ‘though she had to admit that ‘Elizabeth’ sat more easily in her mind. Perhaps because that was what Hector called her...what he whispered in her ear when he was at his most amorous...the name that was carried on a sigh of pleasure as she touched him.

She gasped as the vision of Hector’s body moving above hers filled her mind. The heat of his kisses, the thrust of his hips against hers, the way he filled her completely in both a physical and spiritual way. She stood suddenly, walking towards the window to gaze unseeingly outside. No. She couldn’t allow herself to go there. It had already been established, in her mind at least, that while her feelings for him were powerful, it was only through an ignorance of their history that she’d fallen for him at all.

Her excuse sounded ridiculous even without being spoken out loud. She took the pendant and clipped it on, finding some reassurance in the cold weight as it lay on her chest. Hector couldn’t be here to comfort her...would probably never be there in that way for her again. But at least she had this bit of him close by.

Resting her forehead against the cool glass and closing her eyes, Elizabeth opened her mind and let the memories trickle back rather than fighting to keep them at bay. The sight of Barbossa descending the stairs of Tia Dalma’s hut in the swamp, inordinately pleased with himself at making such a grand and shocking entrance. Her being stopped by Sao Feng’s men in Singapore and having the pirate lord step from the shadows, making sure they knew under whose colours she had arrived in their most ancient and honourable city and in so doing, indisputably extending his protection to her. The glow of that first sunrise when the Pearl had emerged from beneath the waves and the way Barbossa had grinned into the new dawn. And yes...oh, yes...the sight of him at the helm of the Pearl as they stood their ground against Beckett and Jones, laughing defiantly in the face of sure and certain death.

Alone with Barbossa in the cavern, all she was able to remember was her first reaction to him the night she’d allowed his men to take her to the Pearl. The way he and the crew had looked beneath the naked moon, the faint smell of dusty death that had permeated every timber aboard his ship and the stomach-turning scent of rotting flesh that had hung over them wherever they sailed at night. The recollections had hit her hard and her first instinct when her awareness of who she was returned was to put as much distance between the two of them as she could.

Elizabeth’s chest ached as she recalled the wounded look on his face when she’d pulled away, the heartbreak that made itself heard in every word that broke from his lips after her first moment of recognition. He’d trusted her with his heart and she’d thrown it to the side like it was nothing...like his declarations of love had been trite and meaningless. And she’d tried to explain, had wanted him to understand before they were parted why she had done what she’d done, but he’d have no more to do with her once Jim made shore. Barbossa’s pride and sorrow wouldn’t allow it, and she couldn’t blame him. She’d have reacted the same way.

There was a tentative knock on her door. “Beth? Is it okay if I come in?”

She didn’t really want to see Jim, but she owed him at least that for coming whenever she beckoned. Besides, it was likely better to have company than to wallow in her own self-pity. “Yes, of course,” she called out, and turned to watch as he came into the room, his hands in his pockets.

Jim smiled apologetically. “I know you aren’t really up for visitors, but I thought you might make an exception for me if I made you something to eat and invited you down for lunch. I could also offer a friendly shoulder, if you think you might need that, too.”

“You’re really too good to me,” she said with a sad smile. “I can’t begin to tell you how much I appreciate...”

He took a few steps towards her and shook his head. “You don’t need to thank me for anything. I was so relieved to hear from you – I’ve been beside myself since I left you on that island. I’m just glad that you...that is...”

Elizabeth frowned. “What?”

He turned his back to her, perhaps too embarrassed by what he wanted to say to look her in the face as he did so. “You didn’t belong there with them. With him. And I know I have no right to say that to you but it’s how I feel.” Jim turned, his expression solemn. “I don’t know what he did to you, but I’m glad you felt that you could turn to me for protection.”

Elizabeth shook her head. “No, it wasn’t like that, Jim. He never hurt me. That’s not the reason I called you.”

Jim gave her a sceptical look and pointed at her wrists. “Really? Because those bruises don’t look like something you get from running into a door, Beth.”

She felt her cheeks burn and she rubbed at the marks as though she could erase them from her skin. “He didn’t mean to do that...I tried to hit him and he stopped me. He’s just stronger than he realizes sometimes.”

“You tried to hit him? Sounds like a wonderfully healthy relationship. I’m surprised you’re not already ordering wedding invitations.” There was an ugly look on Jim’s face that accompanied his cutting words, and his snarky tone touched an already raw nerve within her.

“I asked for your help because I’m in trouble...real trouble that has nothing to do with my love life. But if the price I have to pay for your assistance is listening to you pass judgement on me and my relationships, I think I’d rather take my chances on my own.” She grabbed her backpack from the floor and stalked towards the bedroom door.

Jim ran ahead of her and blocked her exit. “No! No, please...” he said, sighing heavily. “I apologize. You’re right – it’s none of my business. And you know that I’d do anything to help you. You need only ask.”

Elizabeth glared at him angrily, gauging his sincerity. “Not another word about Hector, do you promise?”

He rested his hands gently on her shoulders. “I swear. Please stay and tell me what’s going on, and I’ll do what I can to help you resolve the situation. Why don’t we go down to the kitchen where it’s more comfortable...you can eat while you tell me what’s going on that has you so worked up.”

Until he mentioned food, she hadn’t really been hungry. But there had been nothing to eat at Fort Zachary Taylor and her stomach decided to make its empty dissatisfaction known with a rather loud growl that broke the tension. Both of them smiled at the sound and Jim backed out of her way, bowing like a butler as he pulled the door fully open.

“Lunch awaits, ma’am. Let’s eat first and talk afterwards, okay?”

She nodded her agreement and proceeded downstairs ahead of him.

The safe house was clearly old and from the looks of things, the decor had not been touched since the 1970s. Complementing the orange shag was worn wood panelling and furniture with large brown and orange floral patterns. Linoleum in the kitchen was of a startling enough pattern that it almost hurt the eyes, and the harvest gold appliances did nothing to mute the assault of fall colours on Elizabeth’s senses. Still, it was clean and in its remote location on the very south end of Florida’s Everglades Park, she supposed that the house would be just right if one wanted to avoid unwelcome visitors.

Jim looked sheepish as he led her into the kitchen where he’d made some tinned soup and tuna sandwiches. “It’s not much...not the house and not the lunch...but I hope you’ll be okay with it. It’s not going to be a five-star stay, I’m afraid.”

Elizabeth sat at the old chipped, turquoise Formica table and dug into her sandwich. “Mmmm...it’s fine,” she assured between bites. “I just need to lay low for a while until Hector figures out who is behind all this.” She didn’t want to give him any indication of the falling out she’d had with Hector, ‘though he’d have to have been completely oblivious to miss the cold silence that had followed her off the dock.

He sat down across from her, stirring his soup distractedly. “And what is ‘all this’, exactly? Maybe you’d be better served letting the law handle whatever it is you’ve come up against rather than an outlaw.”

Her eyebrow quirked up in warning and he held up his hand to stop her before she could start in on him. “Sorry. Old habits, you know. But I think my question is a legitimate one, even without my casting doubts on the abilities of your...friend.”

As she began on her soup, Elizabeth told Jim more about the attack on the Morgan LeFay and detailed the escape they’d made just the night previously while making their way to the warehouse. He listened attentively, asking questions about the appearance of the men and the nature of the weapons they’d used. She mentioned Marilyn’s betrayal but skipped the many supernatural elements of the story – while it had played a big part in her history once she’d fallen in with pirates, she didn’t think it would lend her story much credibility with the current incarnation of James Norrington.

“Do you have any idea what they’re after?” he asked, his interest clearly piqued.

She was going to tell him about what they’d heard from Jack, but in the end decided to keep the concept of a portal to herself. Until they figured out for themselves what their enemies were seeking, Elizabeth felt it prudent keep some information back. “Not really. But if they’re willing to kill me in order to get me away from the dive site, it must be something pretty important. Or incredibly valuable.”

“Is that where you got that piece you’re wearing around your neck? From the Black Pearl?” Jim asked, pointing at the gap in her blouse.

Elizabeth’s hand went to her chest and her fingers played over the contours of the snake. She shook her head. “No, it’s from the same era but I didn’t get it from the...Pearl.” Her heart leapt into her throat as she realized what he had said. How on earth would he know the name of the shipwreck? Unless he already knew what the men who were pursuing her were after. Unless, like Jack, he had been helping them all along...

Although her pulse was pounding in new found terror, she tried to act as though he hadn’t said anything unexpected. It took every ounce of control she had to muster up a casual response. “This was very good, Jim,” she said, pushing herself away from the table and rubbing at her eyes, “but I’m feeling really wrung out. I don’t mean to be rude, but would it be okay with you if I went back upstairs for a while and took a quick nap?”

He looked surprised at her sudden fatigue but finally seemed to accept her excuse. “Of course. Just leave these dishes here and I’ll take care of them. I can’t imagine what you must have gone through these last several weeks.” Jim stood and pulled her chair out for her, and she took a few steps towards the kitchen door before he stopped her by taking her hand.

Slowly she turned, trying to look nonchalant but suddenly sure he’d realized his mistake. “It’s going to be okay, Beth,” he said, squeezing her fingers reassuringly. “I’m going to look after everything. You’ll see.” He leaned forward and gently bussed her cheek.

Elizabeth made herself smile, despite her urge to spit in his face. “Thank you, Jim. You’ve always been...a good man.”

His expression wavered but she didn’t give him a chance to say more before pulling away and walking as casually as she could back up the tacky carpet-covered stairs to the second floor.

Once in the confines of her room, Elizabeth ran over to the window and tried to tug it open. For some reason, it hadn’t occurred to her that in a safe house, the windows were likely locked and reinforced, designed to keep danger out as well as keep skittish witnesses in, and it took a few moments of grunting effort before she acknowledged defeat. There had to be more than one way in or out, though, in case the agents who used the house needed an escape plan...the trick was going to be finding it without Jim realizing that she was doing so.

It would have been a better idea, she reflected as she glanced around the room, to bring along the jian instead of the pendant. Foolish sentimentality wouldn’t have quite the effect during a fight that a well-honed sword could provide.

She gently turned the knob on her door and opened it just enough that she could see the room below. There were sounds of clinking dinnerware coming from the kitchen, signalling that Jim was still occupied. Before she tiptoed out into the hallway, she returned to the bed and fashioned a rough outline of a body beneath the covers using cushions and clothes from her pack. It wouldn’t pass close scrutiny, true enough, but it might get past a cursory peek through the door and delay them in their search should she successfully get away.

The amateurish deception in place, she silently closed the door behind her, all the better to let Jim think that she really had decided to go for a bit of a sleep. She only hoped that his kiss in the kitchen didn’t signal the start of a romantic overture on his part – a few pillows weren’t likely to satisfy for long.

As she crept from room to room, her sense of betrayal ate her from the inside. Okay, he had done something similar when he was Commodore Norrington, too...and if history was really repeating itself, then perhaps she should have seen it coming. And maybe there was still some nobility in his soul, and he really thought that he was helping her by ‘brokering’ some kind of deal with the bad guys, but it showed a marked lack of respect for her intelligence and a gross overestimation of his ability to handle situation that could easily escalate beyond his control.

Elizabeth wasn’t going to give him a chance to either turn her over to his accomplices or to redeem himself. At this point, it was up to her to affect her own rescue and put the ‘damsel in distress’ bit to rest once and for all.

She found no success in any of the remaining three bedrooms – all of the windows had been altered with the same security protocols and there were no secret doors hidden in closets or behind walls. The small windows in the bathrooms weren’t an option, being far too small to provide more than a glance at the surrounding everglades. Her only choice was to make her way downstairs to find a way out, but the chance of discovery was far greater than from the second floor. How far would Jim go to keep her prisoner? The only risk lay in tipping her hand and letting him know that she had seen him for what he was, but she had little else to lose.

Turning from the end of the hall and making her way back towards the stairs, a short, thick rope hanging from the ceiling caught her eye. An attic...could there be a way out from there? It was worth a try at any rate. If nothing else, it might take them more time to find her once they discovered her missing, and any extra lead she could give herself was as good as gold.

Elizabeth crept forward to take another peek over the railing and saw no sign of Jim. Sneaking back down the hallway, she stood beneath the rope and took a jump. Either the trap door had been painted shut or it had not been used for a very long time, because she was left literally hanging from the ceiling, her hands wrapped along the small loop of rope and her feet dangling. She jerked and twisted at it for a while, but ended up releasing it when all she got for her efforts was a light shower of dust from above.

Taking slow, deep breaths, Elizabeth stood beneath the hatch and glared upwards. The dust meant that there had been some small movement, ‘though it hadn’t really felt like it. In all likelihood, she simply didn’t weigh enough to break whatever seal had formed around the door, long undisturbed.

She was about to resign herself to an inspection of the first floor when a quick knock came from the front entry. Sliding along the wall, Elizabeth dared a look towards the living room and saw Jim striding towards the door. Her instinct for flight was overcome briefly by her innate curiosity and she waited as two other men entered the house, hoping to catch some of their conversation. If she could figure out who they were, she could somehow get word to Hector and they’d at last be on an even playing field when it came down to a fight. And there was no doubt in her mind that was exactly where they were headed.

One was short, his hair trim and his clothes expensive-looking. The other was much rougher in appearance, his eyes shifty and his unkempt hair long and scraggly. Jim welcomed them, albeit with far less enthusiasm than she would have thought.

“Is the girl here?” one of them said, his voice smooth as velvet and cultured. “Did you manage not to screw up your assignment completely, Deputy Marshall?”

“You know I wouldn’t have called you otherwise,” said Jim indignantly. “I’ve fulfilled my part of our bargain and I expect you to honour yours.”

“Yes, yes...she’s all yours once we have what we want,” said the same man, his voice condescending and haughty. “Not sure why you’d want the sloppy seconds of pirate scum but there’s no accounting for taste, I suppose.” The voice was familiar, ‘though certainly not one she knew as Beth Swann. Another beacon from the distant past, and she searched her mind to place the tone as the discussion continued.

The other man snickered unpleasantly. “Perhaps we should give her a try ourselves, see what we’ve all been missing. Must be a fine bit of tail for the old captain to defend her so well.”

That voice she recognized ‘though she had no name to attach to it yet. Bile filled her throat and her stomach twisted at the memory. It was the same man who had attacked her that night on the docks; the one who had tried to kill her. And again, the voice was known to Elizabeth Swann as well...something was different from the last time she’d heard it, but the cadence was close...

“You’ll not lay a hand on her!” roared Jim.

“A bit late for that, lad,” laughed the rough one. “Already had a hand on her...tongue, too. Tasty treat, she was – too bad she had to fight and learn her lesson the hard way.”

“Enough!” said the smooth talker, his voice turned cold. “If you’d succeeded in killing her, our opportunity would have been lost and you along with it. If you knew how to keep your temper in check, Mr. Jones, none of this ridiculous subterfuge would be necessary. Remember that, if you would, and the fact that I am in charge of this operation and can declare you expendable at any time.”

Jones. JONES. Oh God. There was no longer any sign of a harsh Scottish brogue, but that was where she’d heard the voice before. Davy Jones, back as a man, but every bit as hateful and disgusting as when tentacles hung from his face and his claw could snap lesser men in half. His hair was grey and unwashed, and the stubble he wore on his chin made him look grimier yet. As she watched, he snorted and spit onto the carpet, scratching at the worn cable knit sweater he wore. Too hot for the climate, certainly, but just the thing for concealing a weapon. The careful distance that both Jim and the other man kept between Jones and themselves made her think his hygiene was likely every bit as awful as his appearance would indicate.

Elizabeth covered her mouth, holding back a whimper of terror when she thought back to Jones' capacity for cruelty. No man to die for her...he’d been talking about Will that night aboard the Morgan LeFay. About James. And very likely about Jack. And if she was going to be honest about it...had Barbossa not died for her, too? Jack had shot him just as Barbossa would have fired his pistol at her on the Isla de Muerta…certainly, his life had been the price paid for her survival that day.

Then the other man...who could it be?

“You should remember, Beckett, that you would never have found her except for me, so you’d best keep your yap shut and remember who it is you’re talking to.”

The back and forth argument continued, and Elizabeth slunk back down the hall and well out of their sights. She wanted to vomit. No two more despicable individuals than Davy Jones and Cutler Beckett had ever drawn breath – and they were after her. Where she’d been determined to make her escape before, she was now frantic.

Whatever deal Jim had made with them, she knew they’d not keep their end of it. There was every chance that once they had what they wanted, both she and Jim would disappear into the everglade swamps, food for the reptiles and other scavengers that made the area their home. If he had known his own history – who he’d been before he’d been Deputy Marshall Norrington, who the other two had been – he’d not have struck such a bargain in the first place.

Her eyes were drawn back up to the trap door and she padded over to stand beneath it again. There was no choice – with the new arrivals, the chance of escaping through a downstairs door was gone. She glared and rubbed her hands together before jumping again and catching the rope in her hands, jerking hard as she did so.

The door budged again but still didn’t open. Gritting her teeth, Elizabeth swung her legs up until they scraped against the ceiling. Twice she tried to catch a grip and twice she failed, left hanging and breathing hard with both attempts. She steeled herself once more, even though the muscles in her arms were straining and sore, and swung her legs back up once more. The final time she found purchase and she hung upside down for a moment, her hands still wrapped in the rope and her feet jammed against the ceiling on either side of the trap door.

Using her legs for leverage, Elizabeth tugged again and this time the door popped free, leaving her to swing down to the plush shag. As luck would have it, she caught the small ladder before it hit the floor and alerted the men to her activities. The whole sequence of events had been far from silent – the wooden squeal of the door as it broke the seal almost caused her heart to stop – but the snapping and arguing had continued downstairs and none of them gave a sign of having heard anything.

She’d reached the top of the ladder on little kitten feet when she overheard Jones say, “Best we go up and check that she’s really there. Knowing this one, she’s not yet set foot in the place and he’s playing us for fools.”

“She’s sleeping,” Jim said insistently, and she imagined him barring the way to the stairs in defence of her peace. “You can check on her in a while.”

“Don’t worry yourself, youngster,” sneered Jones. “I’ll not partake in the charms of your scrawny whore. I’ll just make sure she’s there and then we can make our plans to retrieve the portal.”

As quietly as she could, Elizabeth pulled the ladder up after her and gently tugged the handle until the door closed with a very dull thud. She wanted to fall back on the floorboards and catch her breath, but she knew the sand in her own personal hour glass was quickly running out. Jones wouldn’t be taken in so easily as most and once he raised the alarm, her advantage would be gone.

The ascending argument got louder as she crept through the attic, stepping around old boxes and pushing through cobwebs heavy with dust. A set of disco records rested against one wall and a lava lamp stood sadly forgotten in a corner. It was the heap of rope ladder, though, crumpled up beneath a single cracked window as it was, that caught her attention and brought new hope to her heart. Whoever it was that they had hidden away in this house, the marshals had obviously not considered the fact that a truly committed assassin would find his way to the third floor and easy access. Regardless, she was grateful that they’d kept it as a last-chance avenue of escape.

The voices of the three men rang crystal clear through the rafters as she pried at the window, her heart exalting in the ease with which the pane lifted when she slipped her fingers beneath. The uneasy banter continued beneath her at the bedroom door as Elizabeth took a quick look out the window and quailed at the height. How long had it been since the ladder had been tested? As light as she was, would it hold her until she had reached the ground...or was at least close enough not to die in a fall? No use killing herself when there were those so close only too willing to assist.

“You’ve likely woken her already,” hissed Jim. “All she wanted was a chance to catch a bit of sleep, you blundering idiot.”

“Then she can return to dreamland once I’ve satisfied my curiosity,” barked Jones. “Forgive me if I won’t take your word for it that you’ve done your part. You’ve always been a bit of a pansy when it comes to carrying out the dirty work, haven’t you?”

“What on earth are you talking about?” retorte Jim indignantly. “So far as I can remember, I’ve not had this distasteful experience before and God knows I’m hoping not to repeat it any time soon.”

“Shouldn’t trouble yourself over that, Norrington,” crowed Jones. “When this is done...”

“Would you mind,” Beckett interrupted wearily, “getting this over with? I’ve had quite enough of the two of you going back and forth like a pair of old hens. We have business to conduct and this delay tries my patience.”

Elizabeth counted her lucky stars that the bedroom to which Jim had relegated her was on the opposite side of the house as the unsecured window. With a muttered prayer, she hoisted the rope ladder over the ledge and let it drop, flinching in anticipation of the noise she knew would follow. It unwound, the heavy rope and hard slats whapping against the wooden siding until unwound completely to a point about ten feet above the mossy ground surrounding the house. It swung side to side, scraping as it went.

She paused only a moment and was greeted with sudden silence from the floor below. Either they’d heard the racket the ladder made or they’d discovered that she was missing. Regardless, waiting to find out wasn’t something she could afford to do. Taking a deep breath and swinging her legs over the ledge, Elizabeth started a hasty descent down the swaying ladder and on her way to freedom...or so she hoped.