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Port Royal was a beautiful town, with a warm climate and key location, the place was an attraction to merchants - and pirates. But that did not dishearten the hundreds of people who flocked to the little island off the coast of Jamaica. With the large presence of the navy, the townsfolk seldom worried outside of their own household problems. And with such a wonderful Governor, they lived comfortably, though poverty was still dispersed throughout.
Clara was one of the lucky few who escaped such a fate. When her parents died, it was just her brother and her left to thieve the market streets to survive. One day, they became bold enough to try and rob the Governor's carriage. The two should have ended up swinging from a noose but Governor Swann took pity and, instead, allowed them into his household as servants.
It was a wonderful place - the Governor's mansion. With gold filigree placed almost everywhere and warm beds and amazing food, the children never wanted to leave nor did they need to steal another thing.
The years passed slowly, nothing major changed except for the children's physique. They were now 15 and 19, the eldest knew he wanted to do something with his life, and upon the blessing of the Governor, he joined the British Royal Navy.
When Clara found out, she did everything in her power to keep him at home but nothing could persuade him. She begged him, pleaded, using the argument that he is all she has left, what would she do without him should he fall?
With a kiss on her forehead and a sad smile, he picked up his bag and headed to the door. That was the last Clara had seen of him. They wrote to one another as often as they could but one day the letters stopped coming. Until an officer knocked upon the Swann's door and gave the butler a letter addressed to Clara.
She tore open the paper, scanning the contents and soon came to understand that it wasn't from her brother, in fact, she'd never get a letter from him again.
Her brother was dead. 'Lost at sea' was their exact words.
That was six years ago. The pain was still everywhere for the young woman. Some days she caught herself watching the door, thinking he'd finally come, other times she sat down at her desk and read every piece of writing he had sent. Death was something that Clara could not cope with and no matter what, it ate her up until she was a shell.
But the Swanns nor anyone else knew she felt that way for she was good at hiding what she thought. Elizabeth and she had become steady friends over the years, having risen to the rank of being her handmaiden; but Clara still couldn't manage to open up.
