Work Text:
It has been a week since Elizabeth’s return from what is surely to be the greatest adventure of her lifetime, four days since she said goodbye to Will. She has been invited to have tea with her dear friend and confidant, Rebecca Scott, and is beyond eager to relate the entire tale...sans curse, of course.
Elizabeth knows full well that James is likely the only person in the world who would believe such a story, and even that had been a complete surprise. She had been prepared for him to dismiss her like all the rest, but he had looked her straight in the eyes and listened. More than that, he had gambled the trust of his men by acting on her word alone.
Truth be told, it had done unspeakable things to her insides...made her want to do unspeakable things to him in return.
She tells Becca as much while they are stretched out across the redhead’s bed, a half eaten box of chocolates open on the coverlet between them. Miss Scott is always receiving such favors from the scad of gentlemen hoping to court her, and she is always exceptionally generous in the sharing of them.
Once Elizabeth has finished her story, Becca hums around her mouthful of candy. ‘I say, that Jack Sparrow certainly sounds a most intriguing character.’
‘I suppose,’ Elizabeth wrinkles her nose. ‘In a dirty, untrustworthy, scoundrel sort of way.’
‘Some of us like scoundrels, Lizzie.’ Becca’s fingers hover over the array of treats before plucking one from the center. ‘They make things infinitely more interesting.’
‘Were you even listening to the rest of the things I said?’
‘Oh yes,’ Becca answers with a wave of her hand. ‘It was all so very dreadful.’ Her tone implies she finds it anything but, and an impish smile curves her red lips. ‘So did your dashing fiancé take you on the nearest flat surface as soon as you were reunited?’
Elizabeth sighs, well used to Rebecca’s uncouth way of phrasing things. ‘No. Not even close. He did have a strange look in his eye, though.’
Becca sits up, back straight, legs folded in front of her. ‘I’m going to need more detail than that, of course. Context, Lizzie! Always give the context!’
So she does, telling her friend of the way his green eyes darkened when he first laid eyes on her in his office. How his movements had been stilted. How his hands were fists at his sides.
‘I see,’ Becca smiles behind the rim of her teacup. ‘And this was after you’d changed, yes?’
‘...yes?’
Now Becca laughs. ‘Well, now. Isn’t that just fascinating.’
Elizabeth frowns, disliking being out of the loop. ‘What’s fascinating?’
‘It would appear our Commodore has a bit of a deviant side.’
Now Elizabeth is actually confused. ‘Well...we kissed. And I suppose he let me see the wound he incurred on my behalf, but-’
‘Lord, Lizzie!’ Becca giggles with an edge of exasperation. ‘I meant the uniform.’
‘...oh.’
‘Oh, indeed. Did you keep it?’
Elizabeth can feel her face flushing. ‘I tucked it in my cabinet after changing out of it when we arrived home.’
‘Good,’ Becca all but simpers. ‘I think you may find it quite useful in the future.’
Elizabeth isn’t sure she completely understands the implication, but she certainly is amenable to the idea.
---
Later that evening, after they have gotten into Mr. Scott’s good champagne, the two of them are cavorting about the garden drunkenly.
‘I think we shall have a Gavotte next, dear Lizzie!’ Becca slurs as she leans against her friend. ‘Something fast! With lots of footwork!’
Elizabeth isn’t sure she can manage a straight line, let alone a dance. Before she has a chance to say so, her knees give way underneath her and the two go tumbling into the grass, howling with laughter all the way.
Becca rearranges herself so her head is pillowed on Elizabeth’s lap as they gaze up at the stars.
‘How is it,’ Elizabeth enunciates with some difficulty, ‘that you know so much...about sooooo much?’
Miss Scott smiles enigmatically. ‘Research, Darling’
Elizabeth begins idly playing with her friend’s ginger curls. ‘What sort of research?’
The smile broadens puckishly. ‘All sorts.’
They laugh again at her cheek, but in her alcohol induced haze, Elizabeth has a realization. Becca must have a secret lover. That would surely account for her extensive knowledge on the subject. She determines in that moment to, somehow, find out who it is.
---
A month later, it is announced that Mr. Abraham King is to begin officially, and exclusively, courting Miss Rebecca Scott. Elizabeth is taken aback by the report, having been convinced that Becca would never truly make steps toward marriage. She just...didn’t seem the type.
Mr. King is a widower nearly thrice her friend’s age with two adult sons and pox scars dotting his face. He’s never been rude to Elizabeth, in fact, he’s never been anything memorable at all. But perhaps the most surprising thing about the news is that Becca hadn’t said a word about it to her. Not a single hint.
When Elizabeth confronts her on the subject, Becca is evasive. ‘I didn’t think it marked telling, my dear,’ she dismisses as she pursues a selection of ribbon on display at the shop they are in. ‘Don’t read so much into it.’
But Elizabeth won’t let her off so easy. ‘You should have at least mentioned it so I wouldn’t have had to hear it first from Mrs. Dunham of all people,’ she grouses. ‘And besides. Why him? He’s so…’
Becca turns to her, eyebrow raised. ‘Highly regarded? Fabulously rich?’
‘Plain,’ Elizabeth finishes.
‘Oh, well,’ Becca waves her off with a smile and turns back to her task. ‘That is an easily forgiven transgression.’
Elizabeth is incredulous. She has never known Becca to be so...so...resigned. So willing to play society’s game. The change picks at something inside her. Makes her tetchy. ‘Surely you think you can do better.’
Becca straightens, the mirth slipping from her face. ‘Better? Mr. King has status, land, sprawling investments, and more wealth than my family has ever seen. He’s promised to spoil me for as long as he lives.’ She steps into Elizabeth’s space, eyes narrowing. ‘Not all of us can be so lucky as you, Elizabeth. Most of us don’t get to marry for love.’
And with that, the redhead pushes past her and strides out of the shop, leaving Elizabeth alone and dumbstruck, both of their intended purchases piled in her arms.
---
It is several weeks before Elizabeth works up the courage to see Becca again. In the meantime, she is delighted when James offers to finally teach her to use a sword. Well, ‘offers’ isn’t quite the right term, for she had been the one to broach the subject again, pointing out that the knowledge would have been very useful to her in the not-so-distant past. But he did relent fairly easily, and, together, they convinced her father as well.
She is naturally excited by the prospect learning to fight, but she is also very much looking forward to being the sole focus of his attention, to being given more opportunity to hopefully see him in various states of undress. She does so love it when he rolls up his shirtsleeves.
Ultimately, she ends up taking Becca’s advice. Her skirts are hardly conducive to such complex footwork, and Elizabeth quickly wearies of tripping over them. She barely contains her glee when James agrees, and she shows up to their next lesson in her uniform.
He doesn’t look away, scandalized, doesn’t attempt to convince her it’s inappropriate, which it surely is. Instead he appears almost in pain when he asks, ‘Why do you still have that?’
All the better to torment you with, my dear. ‘I find the color suits me.’
It takes hardly any time at all for Elizabeth to realize that Becca had been right. James is trying very hard to hide it, but he is undeniably affected by her attire. Elizabeth is thrilled to have discovered an effective way to make him squirm. And more than a little titillated by how powerful it makes her feel.
---
When Elizabeth does eventually reunite with her friend, it is at a society function which they are both attending. Becca spots Elizabeth across the room and sashays over, hips swaying as every man in the room seems to watch her move.
‘Lizzie, my darling, it’s been an age!’ She plants a kiss on her cheek and whispers into her ear, ‘Meet me outside in five minutes.’
Elizabeth is there in two.
When Rebecca joins her, she promptly falls over herself to apologize. ‘Oh, Becca, I’m so sorry for what I said before, it was most unfeeling of me. If being with Mr. King will make you happy then that is all I ever want for you.’
Becca blinks, expression unreadable. ‘Happy? Is that what you think he’ll make me?’
Elizabeth freezes. As the redhead continues, some strong emotion gathers in her eyes like storm clouds. ‘He has two sons who are both older than me, one with sons of his own. Any children I have will never inherit. He is old and ugly and boring, and if it weren’t for the fact that he isn’t asking for a dowry-’ She stops.
‘Wait…’ Elizabeth leans forward. ‘What are you saying?’
Glistening tears begin to gather in Becca’s eyes, her lip quivering. ‘Father is...has been…’ Her visage turns to iron. ‘My dowry is gone. And Mr. King is likely to be the only prospect I’ll ever have.’
Elizabeth is reeling, her heart breaking for her friend. ‘Surely that’s not true.’
‘It is. And I don’t have the luxury of waiting for someone better to come along, hoping they’ll have me.’
‘But...can’t you-’
‘Don’t you get it, Elizabeth?’ Becca snaps. ‘I’m not like you. I can never be with the person I love. I don’t have the option. At least as Mrs. King I can be comfortable. I’ll never want for anything.’
Elizabeth doesn’t insult Miss Scott by attempting to comfort her. ‘You’re right. I was being naive.’
Becca forgives her on the condition they drop the whole thing and spend the rest of the afternoon making fun of all the other party guests. It is a welcome distraction, but Elizabeth can’t stop turning over something Becca had said in her mind.
I can never be with the person I love.
Becca is in love.
---
In the fall, the official announcement of Becca’s engagement is made. Elizabeth is miserable on her friend’s behalf, but has no idea what to do, what to say. She wishes there were some way she could help. But the truth of the matter is, her own situation is just as helpless as Becca's. If James hadn’t asked her to marry him, or more unthinkable, if she’d turned him down, Elizabeth would be at the mercy of whichever suitor showed up next. It is monstrously unfair, and she entertains the idea that, if she were in charge, no young woman would marry for anything less than all-encompassing love. And if they didn’t want to, they wouldn’t have to marry at all.
After amassing a gift basket filled with all of Becca’s favorite sweets, flowers, and a pair of rather racy novels, Elizabeth sets off to see her friend. It feels like she’s going to a funeral. When she arrives, she is told by the butler that Miss Scott isn’t home. She thanks the servant and turns away in mild dismay, supposing that’s what she gets for dropping in unannounced.
On her way down the drive, Elizabeth hears a muffled sound coming from the garden. A woman’s voice. It sounds like Becca. She sets the heavy basket down on a bench and creeps toward the noise. As she nears, another voice joins in. Huskier. This is it! Elizabeth thinks. She’s finally to find out who Becca’s lover is!
Elizabeth peers around the hedge, picking out two figures conversing in hushed tones across the clearing, but disappointment settles on her shoulders when she realizes it’s not some dashing scoundrel with her friend, but a woman. Elizabeth deflates. Not a lover after all.
As she continues to watch from her hiding place, she observes Becca plucking a flower and placing it behind the other woman’s ear, who giggles in return and whispers something back to her. Elizabeth has never met this woman, but she is admittedly lovely, with dark, dancing eyes and olive skin, ebony curls falling loosely around her heart shaped face.
Then, Becca leans forward and kisses her, and Elizabeth has to clap her hands over her mouth to keep her gasp from echoing.
The dark eyed woman smiles against Becca’s lips, palms slipping over her shoulders until they are locked in a torrid embrace.
It is too much, too intimate. Elizabeth shouldn’t be here. Shouldn’t be seeing this. She takes a step back and stumbles over the hem of her dress, shoes crunching loudly in the gravel.
All noise in the clearing ceases, and Elizabeth doesn’t wait to be discovered. She makes a mad dash for the gate, losing her sun hat in her haste to get home.
---
Elizabeth is reading in the drawing room two days later when Estrella dips in through the door. ‘Miss Scott is here to see you, Miss.’
Though she is still mortified by her discovery and utterly at a loss for what she could possibly say, she tells Estrella to send her in. Rebecca thanks the maid, then shuts the door behind her, Elizabeth’s prodigal sun hat caught in her hands.
‘You left this,’ she says flatly, by way of introduction.
‘Thank you,’ Elizabeth responds, making no effort to take it from her.
There is an uncomfortable silence between them for some time, and when Elizabeth is sure she cannot take another instant and is just about to break it, Becca does first.
‘What you must think of me now, I can only imagine.’ Her expression is so forlorn, so anguished as she looks down at the floor. Elizabeth has never seen her like this. It makes her feel sick.
She doesn’t know how to respond so she settles for asking, ‘What’s her name?’
Becca meets her eyes then, unshed tears gathering at the corners. ‘Elena.’
‘She’s very beautiful.’
‘Don’t.’ A command. A plea.
Elizabeth’s brows lower at the raggedness of her tone. ‘Don’t what?’
‘Don’t pretend to understand. Don’t pretend you’re not disgusted.’
But she’s not disgusted, not really. Just surprised. And...curious. ‘Does she make you happy?’
The tears have started forging down Becca’s freckled cheeks now. ‘Yes. More than anything.’
Elizabeth sighs, rising from her chair. ‘Well, that settles it then.’
Becca looks confused, so Elizabeth attempts another tack, crossing the room to fold her into a crushing embrace. At first her friend goes rigid, but then she melts against her, her shoulders shaking with quiet sobs.
‘I love you, Becca,’ Elizabeth croons as she pets through her friend’s hair. ‘No matter what you do. No matter who you are. No matter who you love. Always.’
---
Later, after Becca managed to stop crying, they lay side by side on Elizabeth’s bed, staring up at the ceiling, hands clasped between them.
‘I have so many questions,’ Elizabeth admits, and Becca laughs.
‘I’ll just bet.’
Elizabeth rolls onto her side, head braced on her arm. ‘Who is she? Wherever did you meet?’
‘The second wife of some local plantation owner brought here from Spain. Not welcome in polite company, because of it.’
Elizabeth sniffs. She’s well aware of the unfairness of societal rules.
‘As for where we met...she was in town. Lost. And no one was willing to help her so...I did.’ Becca chuckles. ‘She’s an opera singer, or used to be.’ She looks up into Elizabeth’s face, her lips quirked in a gentle smile. ‘You know how much I love the opera.’
Elizabeth gives her hand a squeeze. ‘I do.’
Another silence, this time companionable.
‘How long have you been together?’
‘About a year.’
Elizabeth gasps. ‘A year! You usually aren’t able to keep a secret longer than an hour!’
Becca doesn’t laugh at the jest. ‘I had a compelling reason to.’
That sobers her. ‘Yes. Of course.’ Elizabeth waits a tick before asking the question that’s really needling her. ‘So...how does…I mean...how do you…’ She’s about to give up trying to rephrase the query again when Becca takes pity on her, a mischievous spark in her eye.
‘Very much the same, actually.’
‘...oh. But what about-’
Now the redhead does laugh. ‘I am ever inspired by your insatiable curiosity, my dear, darling Lizzie. But I think I should like to save this line of inquiry for another time, if you don’t mind.’
‘Of course.’ Elizabeth is almost relieved. ‘So what are you going to do, Becca?’
‘Do?’
‘Well...you love her, right? You can’t marry someone else.’
Becca reaches out and tucks a strand of Elizabeth’s hair behind her ear affectionately. ‘Oh, Lizzie. Marriage is business for people like us. Love doesn’t come into play.’
‘Surely you’re not going to leave her?’
‘Absolutely not,’ Becca replies immediately. ‘Many married women have lovers. I don’t see why I shouldn’t be one of them.’ Elizabeth frowns, and Becca chuckles. ‘You think me terrible, don’t you.’
‘Never,’ she affirms. ‘But you would be content to live half a lie?’
‘Elizabeth,’ her full name sounds almost foreign in Becca’s dulcet voice. ‘We are, each one of us, living a lie.’
Elizabeth considers that in silence. She doesn’t want that to be true. Not for her.
---
The next time James comes to visit, Elizabeth all but leaps into his arms, peppering his face with kisses. He allows her to, but is clearly bewildered by the onslaught.
‘And what have I done to warrant such a welcome?’
Elizabeth peels herself away just far enough to look deep into his emerald eyes. ‘You’re honest and constant and handsome and you love me. Is that not reason enough?’
His answering smile warms her from the inside. ‘It will do...but I can’t help but feel there’s something you must want from me.’
She leans in, practically purring into his ear. ‘There are a great many things I want from you, James Norrington, all of which you have steadfastly refused to give me until we are blissfully married.’ She gives him a moment to really appreciate that line of thought before pulling back and heading toward the stairs. ‘But I manage to make do without you.’
He is visibly shaken by this, sputtering, ‘I beg your pardon?’
‘Nothing, dearest,’ she sings as she practically skips up the stairs. ‘Let me change into my uniform, and I’ll be right back down for practice.’
Elizabeth hazzards a backward glance at her fiance before retreating into her room. His expression is so full of tortured adoration she almost feels sorry.
Perhaps she will behave herself for tonight.
After all...she’s been freshly reminded of how lucky she is to have him.
---