The Caribbean sun shone hot and brightly upon the upper class of Port Royale, gathered once again in the courtyard of Fort Charles. Lately the weather had become unbearable. The wind did not stir, nor in fact did the people. Ever since the Black Pearl incident there was no wind, no rain, nothing to sustain the large plantations further back in the island nor anything to compel the ships to arrive faster in the port.
Wonderful James, what a gorgeous day to pick to get married. Elizabeth thought silently to herself as she fidgeted with her large, and expensive dress. Her fawn colored hair had been intricately curled and pinned for this occasion. She looked over wistfully to the battlements and smiled slightly at the memory of James's proposal. One of the worst in history to be sure, and she was there now before all these people as a testament of her devotion to a promise, to love.
She looked over the crowd in the courtyard. All of Port Royale it seemed, was there. Her father stood by the Commodore, undoubtedly giving him some last minute advice.
Sighing, Elizabeth squared her shoulders and began to walk through the courtyard. A saunter, really, for she wanted everyone to see her, to quell the rumors and the stares that had so plagued her and James for the last few weeks. James looked up as if on cue and startled as he saw her approach. Her father began to walk away, shooting James one final, meaningful glance and took his seat.
Elizabeth stepped up to him and in a near whisper said, "I wanted to congratulate you, Commodore on your marriage."
He narrowed his eyes at once and looked to his right. "It would do you well to take your place now, Mrs. Turner."