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The month of December passed solemnly, the Yule season doing little to heighten their spirits. After waiting almost two months for her family to come home, both she and the navy came to the conclusion that the two men were never going to be found, and upon waking up a week after the holiday, had found a letter stating that she had now inherited the two estates.
What was she going to do with two houses? Now that James was gone, it seemed useless to keep up appearances. She would not need the maids nor would she still be seen as part of the upper class. No, she should give one of the houses to Elizabeth and Will as a wedding present, the other she would sell, and with the money she had, she will go back to England. Perhaps become a governess or someone else's maid.
The couple's wedding was tomorrow and with the heartache of losing James, Elizabeth thought it best that her friend stepped down. Clara still checked in from time to time as the young woman needed some assistance. Her father had taken over the preparation and to say Elizabeth was worried would be an understatement. She wished nothing about her wedding to be traditional and yet, the Governor insisted upon it. Clara just hoped that she left them with enough ideas and material so that it would fulfil Elizabeth's dreams. You only marry the love of your life once, after all.
Clara knew she was going to be a wreck but she must push through the ever-present pain. Elizabeth and Will deserved the world, the best she could do was be there for them. She had taken to uncovering the furniture as she had dropped the cloth over everything to preserve the expensive wood and fabric that James had picked out himself. Her mind ran wild with faux memories of her and the Commodore. Things that were, things that could have been, things that never happened.
There would be no smiles from the two of them, no more laughs or secret kisses. No children or pets nor parties that would last until dawn. Such a life was not meant for her, her domestic adventure had stopped the moment James did, some people were destined for happiness, but Clara? She was destined for sorrow, a shadow of all things good and free.
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It seems that wherever Clara went that bitter grief and misfortune travelled with her, setting fire to everything in its path. The East India Company stormed the beaches, taking over the town and willingly fighting anyone who put up resistance. Screams echoed through the air as a storm raged, the wind howling. So many things had gone wrong that morning.
She and Elizabeth sat in the rain, drenched, but neither of them cared. What was a little rain compared to the seizing of Port Royal? This would not have happened if James and Archer were alive, Clara could not shake the feeling that a great evil was upon them.
Clara felt a hand on her shoulder and she looked up to find Governor Swann. He shook his head and offered her a hand. He helped her stand and wrapped her arm around his, patting her hand gently as he led her away from Elizabeth giving her space. They came to stand under the archway of the fort with the other guests, but it was not for long.
A whispered gasp came from the crowd and they parted. Clara turned around to find many marines, all holding loaded muskets. Will, who they thought had left Elizabeth at the alter, was in the centre of them all, bound in manacles.
At the sound of the men's boots, Elizabeth shot up, dashing to Will. "Will! Why is this happening?!"
"I don't know." he looked at her dress. "You look beautiful."
She smiled but it did not last long. "I think it's bad luck for the groom to see the bride before the wedding."
The Governor took Clara's hand and pushed his way through the crowd, asking for the others to move and let him through. Just as they stepped out of the crowd, two of the soldiers barred the way with their spears.
"How dare you! Stand your men down at once! Do you hear me?"
A man shed his coat and gave it to another of his officers as the rain had stopped. "Governor Weatherby Swann, it's been too long." He turned away from the view of the sea and smiled at the older gentleman.
"Cutler Beckett?" said the Governor in shock.
"It's lord now, actually."
The two men let them go forth, the Governor walking straight up to Beckett and Clara checked in on Will.
"Lord or not," said Swann. "you have no reason and no authority to arrest this man."
"In fact, I do. Mr Mercer?"
A man stepped up and presented the lord with a thin booklet, and Beckett pulled out a once-folded piece of parchment. "The warrant for the arrest of one William Turner."
The Governor took it and read it, seal at the bottom of the parchment was all the proof he needed to know what the man said was true. But as he continued reading, he soon found out that the name was wrong. "This warrant is for Elizabeth Swann."
"Oh, it is? That's annoying. My mistake. Arrest her."
The officers that stood behind them pulled Clara away from her friends' side and placed her in irons as well.
"Stop! This is not right, we have a pardon!" shouted Clara.
"Ah, so it seems. However, it is not legal, Miss Clara Garner. Arrest her as well."
"On what charges?!"
Beckett ignored her, handing two other papers over to Swann. "Aha, here's the one for William Turner and Clara Garner. And I have another one . . ." The two women had now stopped putting up a fight, who could be next on this man's list? "for a Mr James Norrington."
Clara's heart fell into her stomach. "He's not here."
"No? How disappointing."
"Yes, I'm sure you are saying as you'll never find him. He's at the bottom of the ocean, probably lost to Davy Jones' Locker."
"What are the charges!" order Elizabeth, she could care less about James' arrest, he did not have to suffer like them any longer.
"Commodore Norrington resigned his commission some months ago," responded the Governor.
If the officers weren't holding her, Clara would have lost her footing as his words hit her like a brick. "He what?"
Beckett turned to the man. "That wasn't the answer to the question I asked."
"Lord Beckett," snapped Will. "In the category of questions not answered-"
Elizabeth cut in. "-we are under the jurisdiction of the King's governor of Port Royal and you will tell us what we are charged with."
"The charge is," responded the Governor, reading from their papers. "'conspiring to set free a man convicted of crimes against the Crown and empire and condemned to death, for which the . . .'"
"'For which the punishment, regrettably, is also death,'" Beckett finished, none an ounce of emotion on his face. "Perhaps you remember a certain pirate named Jack Sparrow."
"Captain!" the three corrected at once.
"Captain Jack Sparrow," Elizabeth said through barred teeth.
Beckett smiled. "Captain Jack Sparrow. Yes, I thought you might."
