Disclaimer-- I do not own Pirates of the Caribbean, or anything associated with the film, including the character Captain Jack Sparrow (much as I would like to). They belong to Disney. However, any other characters are my own creations.

Author's Note-- This is my first fanfic ever, so I would be very grateful for any feedback from this first chapter, whether good or bad. Thanks!

Chapter 1

Harriet pulls hard on the strings of my corset, cinching my waist in even further. I gasp in surprise at how tight it is- surely I am not expected to be able to breathe? However, my maid seems unconcerned at the problems she is causing me.

"We've got to have you looking your best tonight, Miss Sofia…" She says, while scrutinising me with a critical eye. "This party is an important one, for both you and your father…"

I suppress a sigh. I've never seen the point in parties, they just seem to be full of endless discussions- most of which I can hardly understand- between people I may have been introduced to, but do not really know and indeed, have no desire to. I do however enjoy the dancing- the swirl of colour from dresses, the rhythm of the steps, the way a person can get so caught up they almost forget who they are…

I am brought out of my thoughts sharply when I see Harriet staring at me, and I realise that she has just asked me a question. I try not to look too lost, which is hard because I don't have the slightest idea what she may just have said. Luckily, Harriet seems oblivious to my previous lack of attention.

"The dress, miss… I said it's lovely, isn't it?"

I look down at what she is holding in her arms and gasp, although this time, in amazement. The dress is beautiful- made from contrasting black and red silk, with delicate embroidery on the bodice. The red overskirt is gathered so it falls to about my knees, and the black underskirt continues down to the ground, finished with a red trim. All in all, it is the most wonderful dress I have ever seen.

"It's been specially made, for tonight", continues Harriet, "It's to emphasize your hair colour, or so I've been informed…"

She eyes my raven hair, which at the moment flows free and long, having yet to be styled.

"Well, I suppose we should see what the dress looks like on, don't you, Harriet?" I smile at the maid.

"And I hope that you have an idea for how I should have my hair…"

Returning the smile, Harriet walks over towards me, to help me into the dress.

I take one last look in the mirror on my dressing table before I join the party downstairs. Even I think the dress looks amazing- it is flawlessly tailored to my measurements. I turn my head to one side, to better admire the gentle curls Harriet has put my hair into and to make sure the rose-shaped clip fastening one side of my hair back has not slipped. Satisfied that this is in no danger of occurring, I turn towards the door, but something catches my eye from my bedside table.

My locket! I realise. I can't believe I almost left without it.

Whatever jewellery my father gives to me, this locket always has pride of place around my neck. I don't understand why, but on rare occasions where I have forgotten it, I always feel lost and vulnerable, almost… naked- this would especially not be a good state to be in tonight, of all nights. I may have no idea where I got this locket, and neither, it appears, does my father, but I still feel a special bond to it- strange, as it is after all only a piece of jewellery.

I hurry over to the table and snatch up the locket, before walking smartly out the door, fastening it around my neck as I go. The gold of the chain and the main element of the locket may not create the best contrast with the silver earrings I am wearing, nor the silver rose in my hair, but that will have to be excused. For now, I have a party to attend.

As I see yet another young man walking towards me through the crowds, I have to stifle a yawn. This must be the… tenth… this evening of the hopefuls wanting to impress my father enough to allow them the honour of my hand in marriage, and, of course, impress me- but this only as a secondary objective.

However, as he nears I manage to force yet another smile- which are looking less and less welcoming by the hour, I expect, but I am starting not to care. I see my father step forwards to speak with the man, before escorting him the final few paces towards me so that we can be introduced formally.

"Sofia, may I introduce John Almsworth… Mr Almsworth, this is my daughter, Sofia." My father looks excited at this next prospective husband, and I wonder what status this man has in society. I am sure I will find out soon enough.

"Miss Chalmes, it is a pleasure." Mr Almsworth bows graciously before kissing my hand. I pretend to look flattered but actually am more disturbed, mostly by the way his eyes seem so lifeless, completely devoid of any emotions. However, I still take a few moments to properly assess the man before me.

He is more than a head taller than me- and I do not usually consider myself short-, so I feel slightly dwarfed in his presence. His blonde hair has been impeccably combed back, and is fastened with a small bow at the nape of his neck. The clothes he is wearing suggest a profession with the Navy- a captain perhaps? I will have to check my suspicions later, for I have never been the best at remembering all the ranks and positions there are in the Royal Navy.

I suppose he may be what some ladies would consider handsome, although I myself have never really seen the attraction in the pale and blonde type- I much prefer those closer to my own darker hair colour and skin tone- that which is so different to my father's, whose skin is prone to burning rather than browning under the Caribbean sun. I suppose I must take after my long-dead mother, as my father always tells me.

As though he has heard himself mentioned in my thoughts, my father appears next to us.

"Mr Almsworth, would you like a glass of wine? My taster here has assured me, it is of the finest quality…"

He gestures behind him at the man standing there.

Interesting…I think to myself. I was not aware that my father had acquired a new taster after his old faithful had mysteriously disappeared a few weeks ago. Although, I suppose he would have had to, for this party… I subtly shift my position so I can get a better view of this man…

…And cannot help but stare. The man's appearance is most… unusual. His skin is brown- the type of complexion you only get from long days under the sun. The new and stiff clothing he is wearing seems to hang strangely on his body, as though it was made for someone of a different size and shape to him. Under these garments, you can tell that his body is lean and wiry- used to hard labour, I think. His face, with its high cheekbones and chocolate brown eyes, is handsome and welcoming, with a small beard and moustache that only add to his charm.

But it is this wine-taster's hair that I find the most remarkable. It hangs to below his shoulders, with some parts in thick braids and others in plaits, and with a whole assortment of trinkets and pieces of jewellery woven in, so that whenever he moves his head, a slight tinkling sound can be heard. In a slight attempt to look more- what word should I use? Normal?- he has tied this hair back in a thick ponytail, but it barely makes any difference. I can see he is being given strange glances from everywhere in the hall, although he himself seems oblivious to them- it may just be an act he is putting on to appear more confident than he actually is, but I doubt it. Anyone who has such a distinctive appearance would have to be very self-assured.

My father must really have been desperate to hire this one…I muse. But if he knows his wines, I suppose that's got to count for a lot…

Even so, I know that a man so desperate to stay in favour of the social circles such as my father will be thinking about what being associated with such an obviously dubious character will do to his reputation, which was after all the aim of the gathering tonight, along with finding me a husband. For my father has very ambitious aims, not wanting to stay simply a sugar merchant on Montserrat for the rest of his life- albeit a very rich and well-known sugar merchant. I am under no pretence that this marriage that he is trying to arrange for me tonight is to help him towards that goal, by giving him connections- although I'm sure he would also like to see me happy. That is why this party is so important- he needs to choose the best candidate for his son-in-law, one that will help him gain the recognition he craves.

The taster steps forwards, armed with a tray carrying several wine glasses, and offers one to first Mr Almsworth, then my father and finally me. Mr Almsworth takes his without breaking from a conversation with my father, not even acknowledging the presence of the servant. The tray might as well have been floating by itself, for all he cared, instead of being held by this very interesting-looking man. My father at least notices the man is alive, thanking him with a curt nod- although I see him glancing at the man's hair with a slightly worried expression. When it is my turn, however, I am unsure of where to look, not wanting to appear rude by staring, but not really wanting to take my eyes off the fascinating hair. Instead I decide to focus on the wine glass, but as I look up to thank the man, I meet his eyes… and find I am lost for words- not even capable of a simple 'thank-you'.

The man smiles roguishly, exposing several glinting teeth, before winking at me and walking off, leaving me standing with my mouth open like a goldfish- not the most attractive expression. When I realise how ridiculous this must appear, I quickly compose myself and look round to find Mr Almsworth and my father, although first I check that the taster is nowhere in sight- I cannot have him standing around putting strange thoughts and feelings into my head, especially when I should have my mind focused on trying to appear as charming as possible to any future husband.

Luckily, the taster is on the other side of the room, and so I quietly slip back to beside my father to try and participate in the conversation he is having. This, ironically, is about the very man I am trying to avoid.

"…I can't fault his choice of wine- this is excellent", says Almsworth, holding up his glass, "but his appearance is somewhat… unusual…"

So he did notice the man's existence then…I think to myself, before tuning back onto the conversation to hear what my father has to say in reply.

"That can't be helped, I'm afraid. I was in desperate need of a wine taster, for tonight, and I just stumbled on him- quite literally I must admit. He was outside our estate, said he was admiring the view… I started to ask him to move along, but he wouldn't budge, and instead said that he had heard I was in need of the service of a man like him… I've no idea how he found out William has gone missing, but as I'm sure you know, servants are prone to gossip…" My father seems happy to relate this story to this other man; whereas I previously had no idea that he had even hired another wine taster. Still, it was interesting to hear how the newest of father's servants had come to work here.

"Hmm…" Mr Almsworth seems to be lost in thought momentarily, staring after the taster. "I suppose he came well recommended?"

"Of course! He had several papers from previous employers commending his services to them. I would not have hired any old drunkard!" My father seems disgusted at even the thought of it.

"And yet, he has a most curious walk… Are you sure he has not drunk more of the wine than was healthy for him?" Almsworth smiles at his own joke.

My father laughs nervously in reply. It seems that, instead of the hopeful husband impressing my father, it is the other way around… Almsworth must have powerful standing.

"No… he said he had most recently been spending time working on ships, and had got used to the swell of the sea- being on land was curious to him."

"A man of the sea?" Almsworth appears interested by this statement. "I wonder… what did you say his name was, again?"

"Now… I can't quite recall… Ah! That was it, I think- James Cane. Yes, that would be right… Why so interested?" My father inquires.

Mr Almsworth waves his hand dismissively.

"No particular reason, I just thought I had seen him somewhere before… Perhaps at another party, I suppose. Anyway- Miss Sofia, I sincerely hope we are not boring you?"

This sudden change in conversation has me taken aback momentarily, but I quickly think of something to reply with.

"Not at all. It is, in fact, rather interesting I think."

Almsworth smiles at this.

"Such good manners- your father has clearly brought you up well. Would you care to dance, Miss Sofia?" He drains his glass of wine, before putting the empty vessel on a nearby tray held by a servant.

"I would be delighted." I reply, glad that my lessons in the correct manner to conduct oneself had covered how to hide your true feelings. I would have really liked anything else but to dance with this man, but seeing my father looking so hopeful, I could not refuse. Taking a final sip of my wine, I too set down my glass and take his extended hand.

Almsworth leads me over towards the dance floor. The previous dance has just finished, and as we find a space between the other couples the orchestra starts to play a lively waltz. Recognising the music to one of my favourite dances I perk up a little, even managing to engage in some small talk with Almsworth, and soon we are twirling around with everyone else.

However, as we continue, something seems wrong. The music starts to sound discordant, jarring through me whereas before it flowed along so smoothly. The beautiful colours of dresses swirling around me seem to change, until they are a confusing jumble of clashing colours which I am stuck in the middle of, unable to escape from. I also start to notice strange details standing out above the mess the rest of the room has turned into- someone's face which seems to leer at me, the pattern of a certain tile on the floor, Almsworth's cold eyes staring, the butterfly clip pinned into a woman's hair, and at one point, a golden smile flashing from a dark-skinned face.

I am forced to stop dancing, although the rest of the room continues to spin around me. Quite literally, as it seems- it feels as though I am going to faint. Mr Almsworth looks down at me, and for a second I'm sure I see a flash of emotion in those dead eyes- although it looked like annoyance more than anything. He opens his mouth, and I see him start to talk earnestly to me, but the words reach me reluctantly as though they are swimming through water.

"Miss… Sofia…are you unwell…?"

I cannot answer. I push through the crowds heading for the gardens and some cooler air, and curiously see other men and women doing the same. Their faces are pale and sweating, their eyes glazed. I can only imagine I look in a similar state.

Then one of them collapses. I see someone hurrying over to the body lying on the ground, but it seems to be happening in slow motion- my mind is unable to process the events around me. I manage to stagger outside and lean against the balcony for support, glancing back inside where it seems complete chaos has erupted. People are dropping all over the place, with others looking in a similar state to me. Some are trying to help those stricken, but soon are succumbing to the same problems. Soon, it seems as though everyone here has been affected.

What is going on here! I manage to think to myself. I attempt to walk back inside, perhaps to find my father, but then I feel my knees give way and I fall to the ground. Unable to move, I give one more glance to the disarray inside before slowly collapsing back against the balcony railings. Then my world goes black.