ABENDROT - POTC 2

⭬ Chapter I

༺ A  N E W  L I F E ༻

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James had stayed longer than he had anticipated. Despite there being a dangerous pirate on the loose, which he allowed to go free, he could not convince his heart to leave his dear Clara. With every passing second, he knew that he was putting his job at risk, but he knew better than to forsake his bride after all that they had gone through. He made it his responsibility to help Clara just to being a Lady, she had a new life and was no longer the Governor's maid, but rather his ward. From what he saw, she was doing a wonderful job of transitioning - she did live with the Governor for many years, after all.

"I swear, if I must converse with Mrs Tinsley again I might just go insane!" Clara said, plopping herself on the settee in the most unladylike fashion. "She cannot talk of anything but her late husband and embroidery!"

James shook his head, trying his best to hide the smile that was forming. "Grief does that to you, dear. They had been together for decades."

"I know! 37 years!"

"Clara, stop with all the yelling, I can hear you from the next town over," said Archer who walked into the large sitting room with a tea tray.

"Oh, pish-posh, let all the world hear my lament, maybe Mrs Tinsley will hear too and finally talk of something else." She got up, uncrossing her arm to pour the tea from its pot. "I understand now why Elizabeth always hated these sorts of things. Rich people are boring."

"Well, then, perhaps you may want to reevaluate our relationship, my dear, being the wife of a commodore might be too haughty for your likes."

Clara turned to face him, jaw slack in a silent gasp. "James!"

"I am just jesting, but it does put things into perspective, does it not?"

Clara glared at him, her chest rising quickly with each tainted breath.

James sighed and stood up, walking straight to his fiancée. He took her by the shoulders, forcing her to turn to him. "I would never wish to see us in the arms of another. I apologize, darling, I only wish for your mind to be clear." He kissed her head and she sunk into his embrace, her nerves no longer askew.

"This is very pleasant and all," grumbled Archer. "But if you could save it for some other time, I'd find my day much more enjoyable."

The couple glared at the Lieutenant, but James sat back down on the opposite settee as Clara finished the tea, tapping a spoon against the porcelain cup gently. She handed it to her brother when he sat down and looked to James to ask if he wanted any, but he shook his head before she could. The young woman joined Archer, hands fiddling in her lap as she glanced at the clock on the mantle.

"Do you have someplace to be, pumpkin?" Archer asked, sipping his drink.

"No-yes, Elizabeth is supposed to join us so we may go over wedding plans."

"Already? I did not know you wished to be married so quickly."

"Oh, no, not for James and I!" She laughed and sat up straighter. "For her and Will."

"Ah, of course. I don't blame them, with the whole 'almost death' thing and the class barrier."

Clara stared at Archer in confusion and surprise. "Archie, what are you going on about?"

"Well, if they were to wait, Governor Swann may change his mind about the union. Will is a blacksmith after all."

"You forget that that blacksmith was once your closest friend. You were once lower than him in status, mind you."

"Things can be taken away in a heartbeat, just remember that, Clara."

She was now angry again. What had happened to Archer to make him so bitter? He had been gone for almost a decade and he gave little detail as to how he survived. It made Clara's head spin. As if her body had taken over her mind, she shot off the settee and went to the parlour's door.

"Where are you going?"

"To find Elizabeth."

Once she was out of earshot, James turned to his friend. "Sometimes you can say the worst things at the worst of times, you do know that?" Not waiting for a response, he followed Clara outside and into the sun.

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Finally, after a month, James and Archer decided to set sail. The latter having convinced the Commodore that they couldn't waste any more time as they surely would have lost all direction of where Sparrow had travelled to.

Clara had stood upon the port as her lover's ship sailed off into the horizon. She could barely make out where James stood as he directed orders. She waved, hoping he would see her and bit her tongue, she did not wish to cry in the presence of others. Her hand lowered slowly and was brought to her lips where James had kissed her.

They have shared many kisses since the first which felt all so long ago, but none were like the one she was just given. Clara could still feel the tingle of his lips and the severity of it all - how much he loved her and how much he was going to miss her. Lord only knew when they would see each other next.

"I promise we will be wed the moment I return. I will come back, Clara."

Clara hoped beyond belief that James would come home sooner than expected, that his thirst to quench the world of pirates would dissolve with the capture of Jack. She hated herself for wishing harm on her friend but it would be the only thing, other than perhaps children, that would keep James by her side.

But does he even want any? She wasn't even sure of herself and how felt about them. However, every time she passed a child on the street who was begging for scraps, there was an ache in her heart that made her veins boil. It reminded her of what she and Archer had gone through. No one should be forced into poverty, society as a whole could help these people and yet no one does anything. It sickened her.

A drop of rain splattered on her nose, breaking her out of her thoughts and her heart raced once more. Everything was working against them, were they not? This was just what James needed upon the first part of his voyage: a storm.

Huffing and praying to God that he would keep her family safe, Clara pulled her shawl around her tighter and headed off back through the streets of Port Royal, never once sprouting that beautiful smile people adored nor ever meeting anyone in the eye.

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