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Time for Weatherby Swann has moved strangely. It's scarcely been a fortnight in Port Royal, and he's managed to visit Elizabeth here only a handful of times.

He knows times moved much differently for his daughter. He's so very pleased she's here and safe. Cutler Beckett makes matters more precarious by the day for those like his Elizabeth.

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His Elizabeth might be accounted for and reasonably safe, but times have been troubled and she wouldn't necessarily describe herself as sound, at least not recently. Currently, she is seated by the window, caring for her sword more out of boredom than necessity. She looks up as her father enters, and stares for a long moment. A mixture of relief and worry crosses her face.

Part of her isn't convinced that he's real, and so she waits for him to look her way.

When he sees her, his face lights up.

"There you are, my dear." He walks over to her and leans down to kiss her cheek. "How are you today? Has it been too terribly long since I was last hear?"

His smile, honest and adoring, goes a long way toward soothing her uneasiness.

"Only in that I've missed you terribly," she replies, accepting the kiss and giving another in return. Conscious of their surroundings, she doesn't give into the urge to cling like a small child. "In that it is always too long."

"And how is my sweet daughter, then? Are you doing well here? Deciding to stay a while longer, perhaps?"

'Oh yes, please do' is left unsaid, but the meaning is clear.

Deciding has nothing to do with it, but Elizabeth isn't quite churlish enough to phrase it like that.

"The door hasn't returned," she tells him. "Not for any of us. Little changes here, but how are you?"

The anxiety and frustration are almost hidden behind a pleasant smile.

"I'm kept busy. As long as I do what I'm told, things go well enough. I've been told I might receive passage back to England, soon. I'd be giving up my governorship, but-" he glances about to make sure no one's listening. "-if I can return, I can make certain the King knows what has transpired since Beckett rose to power."

Interesting.

Beckett doesn't seem like the benevolent sort. At all.

Frowning, she takes his hand.

"Father-" She shakes her head, and stifles that train of thought. For the moment. "Do they otherwise treat you well? Provide decent food?"

"Oh yes, yes, I'm fine," he says with a laugh to mask any trepidation that she otherwise might pick up upon. "Just guarded. Closely. It's quite vexing, really, but I've food and the comforts of home."

Satisfied with his answer, she casts a furtive look at patrons sitting nearby.

"I spoke with James. He gave his word to help you as he can, when he's allowed to leave." She pauses. "He's genuinely fond of you."

"I've always thought highly of James."

He'd thought of him as a son for a very long time.

"I haven't seen him at all. I suppose he's been marooned here as well?"

Elizabeth nods; she knows her father had wished for James as a son-in-law, and maybe none of this would have happened if she had been serious about her acceptance.

The thought leaves her in brooding silence for a moment.

"Yes," she eventually confirms. "He became bound after leaving Beckett's office."

Her mouth tightens into a thin line. During the last few days, her suspicions have taken on a life of their own.

"Oh dear, how unfortunate. Pity Beckett couldn't switch places, eh? I should like that very much. If you were able to leave, that is."

"That would indeed be gratifying," is her dry response.

There's an undisguised flash of anger in her eyes, but her voice is even when she asks, "Do you truly think you can reach the King?"

"Of course I can. Our family has always been loyal and upstanding in court, and that shan't change. It's just a matter of getting there, or getting word to him. My correspondence is as highly guarded as my person."

"I fear it will be too late."

Elizabeth looks away, eyes drawn to the window and Jack's ship beyond.

"Now, now," he says, patting her hand. "We mustn't give up hope. Things will get sorted and we'll be fine."

Sometimes parents lie to their children. Sometimes parents lie to themselves for their children's sake.

She smiles, recognizing the attempt for what it is and appreciating it all the same.

"It's possible I needed to hear that," is her quiet response. "Remember when I was young, and you would say the same? Somehow things always did get sorted."

As a child, Elizabeth had had an unshakable belief that her father could work miracles.

The world has changed that more than a little.

"Of course it did. We've friends in high, and low, places." He chuckles and squeezes her hand. "Years from now, I'll be able to tell my grandchildren the perilous tale of my captivity, and we'll all laugh about it."

"Grandchildren?"

Her smile widens, and a teasing look enters her eyes.

"I should probably get married first."

"But of course, my dear. I suppose I've finally gotten used to the idea. I should like a breath of fresh air. Would you accompany me on a walk around the magical lake of this place?"

"Happily," she replies, and for the first time in days, she means it. "Perhaps Will is in the forge. I'm certain he would like to say hello."

Standing, she takes his hand.

"Then let's go give him good day," he says.

Elizabeth is here. She is safe with those who care for her. If only she can stay here until he can get things sorted...

There has to be a way. He's the Governor of an important colony and a kingsman. Honor and justice will out. Weatherby Swann is certain of this.

Hand-in-hand they walk outside into a lovely Scottish spring day. He'll treasure this time with his daughter, as he's treasured every moment with her.

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