Epilogue

The pleasantly plump, middle-aged maid underwent the usual routine of gathering a shallow white china bowl and a matching pitcher full of cold water to her lady's bedroom. She had been well-acquainted with the shattering confession the Lord and Lady of the house told their adopted daughter, whom she served since the lass was five, and she knew well to treat the young miss with the utmost courtesy after such an unforeseen admission. But as young Margaret Reinders, otherwise known as Maggie, laid her small white hand on the bedroom door handle, she turned it and discovered it locked.

"Oh, Miss," she sighed, pivoting around on her foot to place the delicate pitcher and bowl on a nearby hallway table. With her hands free, she knelt and withdrew a metal hairpin from her straight, strawberry blonde hair and looped it through the small hole in the doorknob. After jostling the knob and prodding the pin frantically for a few moments, the door at last clicked and Maggie pushed the door gently away.

She was met with a rather cool breeze and slightly surprised at the refreshing gust, she walked in further and found the young lady's windows open, with a rope of her tied bed sheets falling from the window. "Oh. Dear God," cried Maggie, lifting her skirts as she rushed over to the windowsill, the breeze blowing her white bonnet nearly off her head. She stuck her head out the window, her brown eyes searching swiftly for any clue or sign as to where the young miss could be, but there was nothing. Nothing except a pile of brown tresses that lied on the grass nearby.

Frowning with a creased brow, Maggie turned around and surveyed the empty and hauntingly quiet room. The sun had not risen yet, but the sky was a palette of black fading into a dreary grey, sending enough pale white light into the room to allow her to see it. The lacy curtains from the windows blew around like banners in the wind, assisting in the constant flow of the ocean air. The bed was unkempt, as usual, and the drawers to the young lady's vanity were open and yellow papers littered its surface with some casually blowing around with the wind.

And then suddenly, her brown eyes spotted an envelope neatly placed beside the vanity mirror, and sparked with curiosity, Maggie hurried to the piece of furniture and seized the letter. To the Turner Household, it said. With another sigh and a deeper frown, Maggie took one last look at the barren room and exited, heading for the quarters of the Lord and Lady of the home.

She passed by the room to the young Mister Turner, and found the maid assigned to it looking about the room with a shocked and worried face. "Maggie," said the maid, seeing her comrade and quickly walking to her. "The boy. He's gone. His uniform and other clothes and belongings are gone, Maggie."

"I know," she replied. "They went together; the inseparable two. Young Miss Astrid and young Mister Turner."

"But what will we tell the Missus and Mister?"

"We won't tell them anything, Hannah. We just have to give them this." She showed the letter she found in Astrid's room.

"But why would they leave?"

"Because they needed to," said Maggie simply, understanding Miss Astrid's undeniable impulsiveness. The young woman would do anything at any moment if she wanted to, usually without warning.

A waft of air suddenly blew past them, and the air was not so sweet with the scent of the ocean. It was infected with the stench of smoke. "Maggie," said Hannah, whirling about and running to the windows of young Roland's empty room. From within they saw the small flickering orange dots of torches approaching. They looked beyond that and caught sight of the fort, and it was trapped in smoke. And further down, they saw the black silhouettes of flaming houses. "Dear God, Maggie. What are we going to do?"

Maggie stood still, her eyes never stopping to look at what had happened to Port Royal. "I… I don't know, Hannah. I don't know."

A sudden, startling beat crashed on the front doors of the house and Maggie and Hannah whisked their heads around and exchanged nervous glances. "Wake the Lord and Lady," whispered Maggie. "Don't let anyone open the—" She was cut off, for a gun shot rang through the house and with a shriek, Hannah ran out of the room for the quarters of Mister and Missus Turner.

Peter, thought Maggie, remembering the old man had woken but a few moments ago to assume his duties as butler and doorman in the hour before sunrise. Without wasting another moment, she sprinted out of the room and made means to run down the stairs, but she stopped suddenly, seeing the dark, bulky figures of a few grumbling men entering the home. She gasped faintly and retreated to the stop of the stairs, crawling close to the railing for cover and from her spot, she saw Peter lying on the floor, dead.

Something continuously banged against the doors to Elizabeth and William Turner's bedroom. The doorknob was shaking from the outside and the doors rattled with the assaults against them. "Please, my lady and lord!" begged a high voice from the other side. "Open! Please!"

Elizabeth was the first to hear the thumping of fist against door and sat up in bed, her waves of gold and vague grey coming undone from under her nightcap. "One moment, Hannah!" she called, getting up and donning a robe.

"It is urgent, Missus! The town is under attack! And your son and daughter are nowhere to be seen!" came Hannah's shrill reply.

Elizabeth's calmly moving feet were suddenly frozen at the news. Her pale brown eyes widened and her face was suddenly tightened into a mold of quavering fear and apprehension. "Astrid," she breathed through her immobile jaw. "Roland… no…" She averted her head to her sleeping husband and shook him awake, her panic overcoming her tiredness. "Will! Wake up! The town is under attack and Astrid and Roland are missing!" The mentioning of his beloved son and daughter being absent caused him to shoot up from the bed, his once closed eyes now fiery with the determination to save his children.

"Where are they? How could this happen?" he asked as Elizabeth hauled him to his feet and bade him dress properly.

"She's going to find Jack," answered Elizabeth vehemently. "Now that we've told her, she's going to find him and Roland went with her, I'm sure of it."

"Missus! Please!" shouted Hannah from behind the doors. "The pirates! There are pir—" She gave an ear-piercing shriek and something heavy knocked against the doors and collapsed to the ground in a chilling thump, and Elizabeth and Will looked at each other, worried sick at the thought.

"Anyone in 'ere?" chuckled a raspy voice from the other side of the closed doors. "Come on out. We won't hurt you. We jus' want yer treasure an' then we'll be off." Will signaled for Elizabeth to head towards the windows in their room, and she opened them quietly and busied herself by tying a quick rope out of the curtains.

Meanwhile, Will crept closer to the door, reaching for his sword that was conveniently placed for display on their wall and prepared his attack. "C'mon now," yelled the pirate, beating his fist on the doors. "We ain't got all day. I'll give ye three more seconds before I shoot the door open meself! One… two…thr—" Will let fly his plan and opened the doors and immediately jammed his sword into the pirate's abdomen, and with a twisted and groaning face, the criminal fell to the ground, only to be trampled over my his companion as the other pirate lunged forward, a raised cutlass in his hand.

"Go, Elizabeth! I shall follow!" he cried, blocking the pirate's blow and sending the tip of his blade into the pirate's neck. A few specks of blood splattered onto his working hand and his shirt, but he quickly moved his feet backwards, for more of the bandits were rushing straight for him.

Still holding onto his weapon, Will ran for the windows and seeing that Elizabeth was safely on ground, he gripped the rope and swung himself over the windowsill before scurrying down, bloodied sword still in hand. "What of our servants?" asked his wife as soon as his feet touched the hard earth. "Maggie, Peter, Hannah, Geor—"

"I don't know, Elizabeth," said Will, eyeing her with slight remorse. He knew if they did nothing, some of their most loyal servants would die. He had already seen Hannah's body lying dead on the ground outside of their bedroom doors and there was no telling what had happened to the others. "Come, we must get to the fort." He extended his arm to her, knowing such a frightful attack on their beloved home had happened some long years ago, and the attack eventually led to an adventure worth a lifetime.

Elizabeth did not waste one moment and grasped his hand tightly with a reassuring smile. "Let's go."

A sudden earsplitting shatter echoed above them, and they knew the pirates had set fire to their home, throwing torches through the glass windows. Will tugged on Elizabeth's thin hand and after waiting a moment, they slyly ran from their spot to elude any pirate's eyes and sought for a brief place of refuge in some nearby bushes. But a distant call forced them to turn back. "Missus!" it screamed. "Wait! Please!" While Will continued to move forward, Elizabeth halted her feet and because she held her husband's hand, he too was forced to stop.

"Will," breathed Elizabeth. "It's Maggie. She's in the house!"

"The house is burning, Elizabeth. We can't possibly go back in!" He wondered at what his wife could have been thinking that would make her want to go back to save a maid's life. True, it was selfish for him to disregard another's life, but there was a larger chance of all of them dying if they were to return to rescue the maid from the flames engulfing the mansion.

"She's holding something, Will! It's a letter!" Elizabeth waited no further for her husband's reply. She broke her hand free from his and ran back to the side of her home where Maggie had her arm holding the letter from a window. "Maggie! We'll get you out! Don't worry!" assured Elizabeth, but Maggie shook her head as the choking grey smoke weaved about her head.

"No, Missus!" she coughed in reply. "It is too late. Take the letter. It is from your daughter." Elizabeth stood numb and still as Maggie let go of the letter. The piece of paper slowly floated down to her, jerking and twirling with the inconsistency of the moving air. The smoke thickened and Maggie no longer could be seen from the window.

The letter landed softly on the ground like a feather, one of its corners blackened from the fire and the red wax on its seal slightly melting. On impulse, Elizabeth bent down and snatched the letter, stuffing it into the sleeve of her nightgown and hurried back to her husband who waited patiently for her in the safety of some bushes.

Upon reaching him, she extended her arm and he took her hand gratefully with a caring grip. "Let's go to the fort, Will," she said, her voice surprisingly strong and clear. He managed a thin smile and nodded at her and as if they were young again, they sped off into the night, finding the faintest thrill in all of the chaos.

The morning dawned red, and from the safety of the fort, Elizabeth and Will took the time to recap on the horrible night. Will's sword came in handy a few times as they tried to reach the fortress, but they managed to keep out of the way of many of the pirates. With relief, they discovered that Elizabeth's father, old Weatherby Swann, was rescued from their burning home through the help of Commodore Perry and a few of his men. The poor old man was still asleep in his surprisingly untouched room when they arrived.

But the Turners were not so concerned with the hostilities against the town. As they rested at the fort, Elizabeth and Will carefully opened the letter addressed to them and the others in their then burned house, and read its contents carefully, determined not to miss one word of their daughter and son's farewell letter.

"They left," said Elizabeth plainly, somewhat saddened and glad at the news. "Our children have embarked on their own adventure, Will." She took in a breath and turned to him, smiling despite the tears forming in her eyes.

"We won't follow them?" he asked, honestly wanting nothing but to get on a ship and find his children. They still seemed like the little five year old boy and girl he had protected so steadfastly.

"No, my love. We can't."

"But Commodore Perry and the other naval officers will be sure to conduct a search for them. They may think they were kidnapped by pirates."

"Then we show them this," replied Elizabeth, holding up the letter with a smile and a tear on her cheek. "There is no need for the entire navy to find them. They can take care of each other."

"They're out to find Jack then," sighed Will, running a hand through his hair. "Will we do what she asks of us in the letter?"

"Of course. We will confront the Lockes, Westleys, and Murrays and tell them that Astrid and Roland have gone and that they wish them all the best." Will furrowed his brows and looked at his still beautiful wife.

"Even Stephen and Alexandra?" he asked. "Forgive me, but I never liked the thought of Stephen wooing my daughter and I didn't like the interaction between Alexandra and my son." Elizabeth laughed and swatted him playfully with the folded letter.

"It is her request, and it shall be granted. Mind you, I thought Stephen would make a very fine husband for Astrid."

"I'd rather have her fall in love with a pirate than a Westley." Elizabeth stood up and looked down at him, grinning her radiant smile.

"Well, Mister Turner, you can very well say that to young Mister Westley's face when we speak with them. Come along now." With a soft 'huff,' Will stood up and followed after his wife who made her way down to the heart of the fort where the injured were being treated.

Several of the young soldiers and naval officers were lying atop the ground with bandaged heads and limbs. They spotted the first familiar heads they could find, and those were the heads of Missus Locke and her daughter, Stephanie. Both the mother and daughter knelt beside one of the injured men, wiping his sweaty brow with a damp cloth every now and then. The young man was bandaged across his abdomen, his shirt removed due to the blood and he appeared to be in some pain, but not unbearable agony. "Lieutenant Locke?" began Elizabeth.

Missus Locke and Stephanie raised their heads at the coming of the Turners and they each smiled at their sight. "Why, Elizabeth, it is good you and your husband came out safely from this ghastly attack on Port Royal," said Missus Locke, scooting a bit to the side to make room for the couple to kneel down beside Adam.

"Our house did not survive, but one letter did." Elizabeth gently placed her hand on Adam's shoulder and spoke to him. "Did you see my daughter and son?" she asked softly.

At her question, Adam's pain in his torso subsided a bit, and allowed him to widen his closing eyes with their usual lively brightness. "I did," he said, smiling at the memory. "They left. But… I don't know where," he lied.

"Did you speak with Astrid?" He nodded.

"She and Roland fought for a while and I was with her when I got injured. If it's not too bold to ask, Mister Turner," he said, suddenly on a different note and changing his vision from Elizabeth to Will. "May I marry your daughter when she comes back?" Missus Locke gave a small humph and pointed a scolding finger at her wounded son.

"You are too young to think about such things, Adam. Good heavens, you are only sixteen! Don't answer his ridiculous question, Mister Turner. He's dazed from the medication given to him to ease his pain."

"I am not, Mother. I am serious." Will smirked and decided to answer the young, lovesick boy's question.

"Yes, you may marry my daughter when she returns… that is, if she allows you." Adam gave a broad smile and looked at his mother, still grinning with a face that said, "I told you so."

"My son is daft," sighed Missus Locke, shaking her head back and forth. "Stephanie, daughter, keep him company while I speak with your father."

"Yes, Mum," said Stephanie, and she left.

The Westleys also happened to be at the fort, and Stephen seemed to be examining his destroyed coat and Alexandra was whining to her father about when their home would be rebuilt and so on and so forth. Will even warned Elizabeth of interrupting their rather conceited scrutiny of their clothing and possessions, but Elizabeth would carry out her daughter's wishes wherever they may lead. "Mister Stephen Westley?" began Elizabeth.

Stephen's head shot up and at the sight of the Turners he dropped what he was doing and gave them his full attention. "Yes, Missus Turner?" he replied.

"My daughter and son have gone missing—"

"Where?" he interrupted, rising from his seat on the stone floor of the fort. "Where is she?"

"She's fine," said Will. "She wrote us a letter and wished for us to tell you that she enjoyed your company and friendship and apologizes for any trouble she caused."

"Which was many," intruded Alexandra softly. Although fully aware of the dislike between Alexandra and Astrid, Will and Elizabeth acted as if they had not heard the rude remark and continued speaking with the more proper, but more haughty, Stephen Westley.

"When will she return?" he asked. "Why did she even leave?"

"I'm afraid the answer lies solely with her, Stephen," said Elizabeth. "But I am certain she will return. You need not worry."

"If she writes to you, may I send her letters?" he inquired, looking quite desperate for approval.

"If she permits them," returned Elizabeth, slightly unnerved with his fervor to win their daughter's heart. It was already manifest that Astrid was in love with Adam… and only Adam.

"Thank you, then. I appreciate it very much, Mister and Missus Turner." He shook hands with each of them, for no reason in particular. The young man was just too elated to contain his own joy and for once, had to share something of his to others. "If you don't mind my asking, may I officially court your daughter when she returns?" Will tried his best not to snort with disapproval. If another man asked for his daughter's hand, he'd lose his patience.

"If she allows you to," replied Will, slightly bitter.

"But I have your permission, correct?" pressed Stephen, his eyes growing brighter with more hope at each agreeing word the Turners spoke.

"…Yes, you do," replied Will, almost at a grumbling mutter.

"Wonderful," exclaimed Stephen.

Elizabeth and Will exchanged looks and having been married for more than fifteen years, they knew what each other were thinking. Astrid will have a hundred suitors by the time we are through granting her wishes stated in the letter, thought Will. And he knew Elizabeth thought the same, especially with her all-knowing smirk.

"Do not worry, my husband," she said, almost laughing the words. "Astrid will not be overwhelmed with suitors when she returns." He took her hand and kissed it, and she smiled all the more.

"Let us just hope that she and Roland come home soon." And excusing themselves from the Westley company and heading up to the top of the fort, the couple faced the rising dawn and the glimmering ocean. They had a perfect view of the sunrise, the golden and red light streaming to them in rivers of illuminated opportunities, opportunities that their daughter and son had finally taken.

"Give them that horizon," said Will, turning to his wife and squeezing her hand. She returned the mean of affection and beamed back at him.

"And a bottle of rum too," she joked. "Drink up me hearties…"

"Yo ho."