In the Hollow of the Heart

Chapter 4 - The Lady Lovibond

Just over a year until Will is to return...


“Know ye, young Master Turner, what ‘tis I be holdin’ before ye?”

Elizabeth put down her quill and glanced over her shoulder, smiling fondly as delight dawned on her son’s face. Like William, she knew that Barbossa’s words signalled the launch of another swashbuckling story. An image flashed in her mind from the first fable she’d ever heard told by the notorious pirate…one about a ship full of men, cursed to sail the seas as the walking dead, and their quest to put an end to their suffering through a hard-fought search for pieces of Aztec gold. The memory of that time still sent a chill up her back.

She knew she should spend the evening catching up on the rooming house accounts, but it would be pointless to try. Elizabeth closed her ledger’s heavy cover and returned the quill to the ink pot. Although yarns of pirates and mythical adventures were nothing new to her, she found it impossible to ignore the captain’s lilting, lyrical voice once he warmed to the telling of one of his fantastic tales.

Pushing away from her desk, Elizabeth stood and smoothed down her skirts before making her way over to where Hector and William sat before the crackling hearth. The fire wasn’t strictly necessary – the temperature couldn’t ever really be said to be cold in the Caribbean – but having a few logs lit and flickering in her sitting room always made her feel more at home. And it brought a small bit of comfort now, at Christmas, when she felt most nostalgic about her past life.

She settled herself into a soft armchair across from Barbossa and leaned back, crossing her ankles daintily as she looked at him. His face appeared softer in the glow of the fire, the golden light flattering his features and making him seem younger. His long hair was still damp from the bath she’d insisted he take upon his arrival, the wet auburn strands tickling his shoulders. Although he always protested the ritual when he landed on her doorstep every four months or thereabouts, he secretly enjoyed the luxury...or so she thought, if the contented humming she heard through the door as he soaked in the tub was any indication.

While he’d been busy scrubbing away months of filth, she’d gathered his odiferous clothes into a bundle and sneaked them down to the kitchen to launder them in a pot of boiling water. Although he’d grumbled when he discovered his garments missing, the new crisp white shirt and black breeches she’d provided in their stead suited him well. Barbossa would likely cringe to hear it, but he appeared almost respectable without all the well-worn finery in which he took such pride.

William was sitting tailor-style on the throw rug between her chair and Barbossa’s, trying desperately to contain his eagerness. If only she could have the energy of an eight-year old, she thought as she ruffled his hair affectionately, how bright and shiny life would seem.

“It’s a coin!” blurted William, reaching towards the grey disc of metal, dulled by age and the touch of many hands. Before the boy could get his fingers on it, though, Barbossa snatched it away and gave the lad a scowl.

“Aye, ‘tis. But I was hopin’ that ye’d be able to tell me a bit more than that…ain’t yer mother always goin’ on about how smart ye be?”

William tilted his chin defiantly in response. “I am smart! But if you won’t let me get a proper look at it, how can I tell you more? You’re not playing fair, Captain.”

Elizabeth smothered a grin behind her hand, disguising her snort of laughter with a light cough. Barbossa narrowed his gaze at her son and leaned forwards menacingly. “I see ye’ve inherited more than just yer mother’s eyes, young lad. Ye be quick with yer wit as well.” Although his words might have seemed harsh to anyone else, Elizabeth heard the affectionate warmth in Hector’s voice.

Slowly, so as to prolong her son’s torture, Barbossa extended his fist and opened his fingers to reveal the coin once more. William squinted in the dim light, ‘though he didn’t attempt to touch it again. “It’s a British coin. ‘Georgius…II…Dei Gratia.’ And it says, ‘Lima,’ too. Is it silver?”

A satisfied smirk crossed the pirate’s face. “So ‘tis, boy. And the silver was plundered from a Spanish ship near Lima by British privateers, so noted right there beneath the head o’ the king. What yer seein’ be a half crown, one of thousands that were part ‘n parcel of the cargo of the ill-fated Lady Lovibond.”

“Ill-fated?” William breathed, his eyes wide.

Barbossa eased back into his chair and slung one leg over the other, knowing that he already had William hooked. “T’was February 13, 1748, and Simon Peel, cap’n of that very fine three-masted schooner, decided to take hisself a wife. Now, despite what many might think, that weren’t his worst mistake by far…” he continued, giving Elizabeth a sardonic grin meant to ridicule her own matrimonial state, “fer Cap’n Peel opted to tempt the gods and bring his new bride Annetta aboard the Lady Lovibond.”

William shook his head in confusion. “What’s wrong with that?”

“Yes, Captain,” dared Elizabeth, crossing her arms over her chest. “What is wrong with that?” A smile quirked at the corner of her mouth and she had to bite her lip so she didn’t break out into a grin. She lost count of the times she’d been welcomed aboard a ship…present company very much included.

Clutching at his heart with one hand, Barbossa looked in horror from Elizabeth to her son and back again. “Are ye daft? Ye can’t be bringin’ a woman aboard! B’fore ye know it, all manner of discipline is lost, the men spend their time moonin’ about…and besides all that, the very darkest of luck follows them as allows women on a vessel, wife or not! Can’t imagine what kind of madman would dare attempt such a thing!”

Elizabeth laughed and rolled her eyes. For his part, William cocked his head like a dog hearing a distant whistle and regarded Barbossa sceptically. “But Mama sailed on a ship from England…”

“And I’ve heard tell that it was a member of the fairer sex who led the pirate fleet to victory against Cutler Beckett and his cut-throat mercenaries,” she couldn’t help but interject with a teasing grin. She might have kept her nefarious past hidden from her son, but she wasn’t going to let the old pirate discount her entire gender without a challenge.

Barbossa huffed in mock indignation. “First off, yer mother was naught but a girl then, so that don’t count. And second, as fer the rumours of a woman leading the most bloodthirsty of pirates – that ain’t nothin’ but a poppycock legend, born in the taverns of Tortuga and spouted by men who wouldn’t know a female should one land in their laps. Now, ye gonna let me tell this terrible tale as I see fit, or are ye plannin’ to pipe up and share yer opinion each time I open me mouth?” He slapped the coin into William’s small hand and closed the boy’s fingers tightly over the cool silver, giving him a stone-cold stare as he did so.

The boy clutched the token almost fearfully and edged backwards on the rug to be closer to his mother. “What happened to Captain Peel and his ship?” he prompted, grasping the hem of her skirt.

Bending forward in his chair, Barbossa lowered his voice to a growl. “What Peel didn’t know was that his lovely new wife had already been courted by the first mate…a man by the name of Rivers. Now Rivers, he loved Annetta with all of his heart…but she had set her eye on a cap’n and would accept nothin’ less fer a husband. Rivers was driven to a jealous rage when he saw his ladylove with Peel, dancin’ and drinkin’ and celebratin’ their nuptials as they set sail for a honeymoon in Portugal. Her fickle heart drove her former lover wild with anger and Rivers decided that if he couldn’t have her, then nobody would!”

“Sounds as if men are the real problem aboard a ship,” Elizabeth muttered under her breath, her comment earning almost identical hard looks from both Barbossa and her son.

“Mama! Don’t interrupt!” William hissed, disappointment crossing his innocent face.

Elizabeth attempted to look chastened. “I’m sorry…you’re right, darling. Apologies, Captain.”

Barbossa inclined his head, indicating his acceptance of her dubious act of contrition, before turning his attention back to William. Inch by inch, Hector slowly drew his dagger from its sheath and held it up, examining the edge of the blade as it caught the gleam of the orange firelight. “As the newlyweds and their guests were waltzin’ about below decks, Rivers crept up behind Peel and slit his throat, clean as ye please!” With those words, Barbossa made a swift cutting motion across his own neck with the knife, baring his teeth in a terrible grimace as he drew it from one ear to the other.

William gasped in joyful horror, holding onto the coin so tightly that Elizabeth was sure that King George the Second’s face would be imprinted into his young flesh for days. “Captain,” she said softly by way of warning, but Barbossa was far too caught up in his own story to notice.

“The planks beneath their feet were slick with Peel’s blood, and the bride was screamin’ in terror an’ grief, clutchin’ her beloved to her breast as his life ebbed away. But Rivers, he wasn’t done…nay, not by far! With the passengers in a panic, the first mate climbed back aboveboard and cranked the wheel towards the notorious reefs of Goodwin Sands. Before anyone had the sense of mind to stop him, Rivers had dashed the Lady Lovibond to pieces upon the rocks and left nary a survivor to tell the tale.”

“Everyone was dead?” William whispered, swallowing hard. He crept slightly forward to better hear the pirate’s response.

“Aye, the lot of ‘em,” said Barbossa, looking terribly solemn. “But not gone!” He abruptly sheathed his dagger and settled back into the padded leather of his wingback chair, gazing at the boy over long, steepled fingers.

“Were they ghosts, then?” the boy asked quietly, as if by speaking the word too loudly, he risked inviting the spirits into the confines of his own home. He pressed back against Elizabeth’s legs, seeking the protection that only a mother’s presence could offer. She laid her hand gently on his shoulder, squeezing in reassurance.

“When the moon is high in the sky and the chill of winter is upon the waters, more than one honest sailor has seen the phantom schooner appear,” nodded Barbossa solemnly. “Glowing green in the mist and hell-bent fer the rocks, ‘tis said that ye can hear the shrieks of fear from the weddin’ guests and Annetta alike. Rivers, Peel and the lovely bride, eternally damned to live that moment of envy and love gone awry again and again!”

William looked at the bit of silver in awe. “Where did you get the coin, Captain? Was there a whole chest full of them?”

Barbossa slowly shook his head from side to side. “Just that one was recovered, lad, clutched tightly in the skeletal fingers of one of the wedding guests. Matter of fact, t’was yer father as found it – and he as wanted ye to have it.”

Elizabeth’s gasped at the unexpected revelation. “That’s not amusing, Captain Barbossa!” she snapped. The warmth had gone out of the evening in a heartbeat and no amount of fuel on the fire would bring it back. Not once since he’d sailed away had Will Turner made any kind of contact, and she thought it extremely unlikely that he’d chosen Barbossa as a bearer of gifts – or that Will would send such a grisly souvenir to the boy, providing he was even aware that she’d given birth eight years earlier.

Hector’s unrepentant blue gaze shifted to her. “Weren’t tryin’ fer a joke, Missus Turner. And while the tale be grim, surely ye’d not deprive the boy of a gift from his sire?”

“Mama! A gift from Papa!” William was on his feet, unable to hold back his excitement any longer. His warm brown eyes sparkled brightly and he jumped in place. “Maybe he knows how much I love ghost stories and that’s why he sent this! Isn’t that right, Captain Barbossa?”

Elizabeth stood abruptly, her shoulders tight with tension. “William,” she cut in, trying to keep her voice calm and steady, “now that you’ve had your story, I want you to wash up and go to bed.”

“Noooo...I want to hear some more about the Lady Lovibond!” whined her son, giving her the pleading look that so often caused her resolve to waver. It wasn’t going to work tonight, though.

Before she could rebuke William for his petulance, Barbossa spoke up. “Yer to mind yer ma, boy. ‘Tis what yer da would want from ye.”

William grinned sheepishly, his enthusiasm for his prize outweighing his disappointment at an early bedtime. “Sorry, Mama. Good night, Captain. And thank you for the story...and the coin. It’s the best Christmas present I ever got!”

Elizabeth glared darkly at Barbossa before following her elated son up the stairs, taking deep breaths to calm herself down. After ensuring that he cleaned his teeth carefully and washed behind his ears, she tucked the boy into his downy feather bed and kissed him softly on his forehead, determined not to let him see her distress.

When she reached the door, she turned down the lamp and looked back at her beautiful son, her heart breaking at the happiness a single coin had brought him. Even as he yawned and his eyelids began to droop, William clutched the half crown tightly in his little fist, no doubt already beginning to dream of high seas and ghostly galleons.

Slowly she descended the stairs to confront Hector. Although she suspected he’d said what he did in an effort to make William happy, the gesture was misguided to say the least. Once William’s excitement wore off, believing that Will had sent a gift would only make the absence in his young life more keenly felt…and she would be the one left to try to explain and comfort him.

Barbossa was still ensconced in front of the fire, his long legs stretched out before him and his boots crossed as the shadows cast by the flames danced around him. “Is the boy asleep?”

Elizabeth stopped at the threshold to the sitting room, leaning her cheek against the cool wood of the door jamb. “How could you do that? How could you bring him a gift and let him believe that Will sent it? It will only hurt him more when he realizes it isn’t true,” she chided sadly, upset that he would dare raise false hopes in her son’s heart.

He twisted his head around sharply but stopped short of meeting her eyes. “Never once said the present was from Will Turner,” he snarled over his shoulder. “Told him it came from his father, didn’t I? No word of a lie there.”

The bottom dropped out of her stomach, her vision swam, and for a moment Elizabeth wasn’t sure she would be able to remain on her feet. She stumbled over to the desk and slumped into her chair, her legs feeling suddenly boneless. “How...how did you know?”

Hector stood and strode over to her, his angry steps snapping against the wooden floor. “I ain’t dim-witted, ‘Lizabeth. Long have I known the boy to be mine –ye need but look at him to see the truth! Even if there weren’t such resemblance, t’was I as took yer maidenhead when ye came to me that night before the battle and so far as I can tell, dead men father no offspring. That’s what Turner really is, ye understand...just as I was not entirely human when the curse was upon me, so yer husband ceased to be truly alive when his heart was carved from his chest. The two of ye might have had a honeymoon that one day on the beach, but it sure as Hades wasn’t Will Turner as planted a child in yer belly!”

Had she been standing, his pronouncement would have driven her to her knees. Finally it all made sense –his frequent visits to Bridgetown, the countless hours he spent with them, the obvious affection he showed William. Doubtless, he’d heard rumours of a young woman, alone and pregnant, settling in the small Barbados town and had tracked her down. And to think that she had flattered herself into believing that there might have been more to his sojourns than just a chance to share stories with William. Being proven wrong in her assumption made her feel like a fool...and hurt far more than it should have.

Elizabeth had always known in her heart that her son did not possess a single drop of Turner blood. The curve of his smile, the way he squinted in the sunlight, his quick temper – those and a dozen other characteristics were far too reminiscent of Barbossa for her to pretend otherwise. She had managed to convince herself that it didn’t really matter, though. Once Will returned, they’d be a family and she’d take the secret to her grave. It had, after all, only been one moment of weakness before she’d taken her wedding vows. One couldn’t even call it faithlessness, not really – she and Will hadn’t yet been married when she’ been seized by fear and loneliness, and had taken it upon herself to seduce Barbossa. It had meant nothing more than a refuge for her and a release for the pirate captain.

“If you’ve known for so long, why wait until now to speak out?” she asked, resting her elbows on the desk and burying her face in her hands as tears threatened. “If you seek to punish me for my secrecy...”

Hector turned away from her and stalked back to the hearth, leaning on the mantle as he stared down into the fire. “Figured if I gave ye enough time and showed that I care fer ye and the boy, ye’d summon a wee bit of courage and divulge it on yer own. But instead ye’ve chosen to delude yerself and him both, and I’ve no more patience fer such. Oh, don’t ye fret,” he added bitterly. “Ye needn’t worry that I’ll be tellin’ tales about ye. I just wanted to give the boy somethin’ as would remind him of me, even if he ne’er knows the truth of who I be. A farewell gift, if ye will. When the Pearl sails at daybreak, I’ll be puttin’ me rudder to Bridgetown fer good.”

Elizabeth suddenly felt sick with disbelief. “You’re not coming back? Why?”

His head jerked up and he fixed her with glare so heated that it made her cringe. “Can ye really be so blind as all that? Tell me, girl - ye heard the legend of the Lady Lovibond, but did ye listen? Did it not occur to ye that ye might be the bride and I the first mate, forced to watch ye dance with one unworthy of yer devotion? Will Turner put everythin’ else before ye...and yet ye have eyes only fer him, so badly do ye want the fairytale life he once promised ye! Too well can I understand why Rivers did what he did!”

“But he’s my husband...” she stammered before the core of what he was saying to her sank in. It hadn’t been just for William’s sake that he’d come so often to Barbados...

“Yet ‘tis I as has made me way here to ye time and again, crossing storm-tossed seas and fightin’ impossible odds, ain’t it? ‘Tis I as has extended me protection to ye and kept ye safe from them as might act against ye...and ’tis I as stayed silent while me own son shared with me tales of his long-lost father. But none of that has touched ye...still ye sit and wait fer the day that Will Turner rejoins ye, and ye can’t even see that which is right before ye! Bad enough that all that should be mine belongs to him; I’ll not stand by and watch this lie play itself out another hour!”

He stormed past her and made for the front door, the sound of his boots like pistol shots. Finally, the understanding that he really did mean to walk out of her life forever spurred her into action. Gathering her skirts in her hands, she chased after him. Catching up to him just as he retrieved his baldric and weapons from the hook by the door, she snatched hold of his shirt sleeve and held on tightly. “No! Please, Hector...I don’t want you to go!” Her heart thundered against her ribs and she felt as though she had been dropped into some terrible waking nightmare. She couldn’t lose him, not now!

He rounded on her and instead of the rage she expected to see on his face, Elizabeth found herself shocked at the depth of the torment marring his rugged features. “Oh, aye...yer content to have me here so long as there be no better offer...no Cap’n Peel on the horizon, so to speak,” he hissed. “But after so many years, ‘Lizabeth, I’ve naught left to give ye. Find yerself another fool to fill the hours ‘til yer beloved Will returns!”

Yanking his arm loose from her grip, Hector roughly pushed past her. Elizabeth watched as he gradually disappeared into the evening gloom and she stood helpless as her world collapsed around her.