Palm to Palm
Elizabeth: Age 15
James: 24
A/N I don't own anything
Breathe Elizabeth, just breathe. In and out, Elizabeth Swann repeated the mantra over and over to herself as she descended the stairs of the large entry hall. Tonight was the night she was going to become a member of society, it was nothing official but it was her fifteenth birthday. Her father had spared no expense in the celebration, ordering the finest food and drink and ensuring that the house sparkled in its cleanliness.
Perhaps the most important item purchased was Elizabeth's gown, made of fine silk and imported from France (because even though her father detested the people he had to admit that they made some of the finest clothing he had ever seen) it was the most lovely thing she had ever worn; it was composed of a deep blue outer silk gown with a light gray stomacher and petticoat the sleeves came to her elbows and had small ruffles, each layer was intricately embroidered with swirls and patterns that dazzled the eye and astounded the girl. How someone had mustered the patience to do it all was beyond her; still a child in some ways she would have prefered to run around by the sea or walk along the docks with her closest friend Will, not that he would be there that night. Lately the divisions of class and and social standing had become impassable and put a heavy strain on what had once been an easy friendship.
The brunette shook those thoughts away, such things would only upset her and on a night like this she had to be absolutely perfect. Her heels clicked against the wooden stairs, muffled slightly by her skirts and by the jumble of voices just in the other room; the smell of wine and women's perfume drifted toward her and made her feel like her stomach was doing flips. Two causes could be seen for this, one her nervousness to make her father proud and not embarrass herself and two, the realization that after tonight she would forever be like the women she despised.
Her sharp tongue would be bit, words held back, she would need to be a perfect doll with pale, smooth skin and curled hair. If she was going to become that, she thought, then it she would find ways to remain herself always. Her feet seemed rooted in place at the bottom of the steps, and her heart began to beat fast in her chest with nerves. It would all be fine her father had repeated over and over, but what if it wasn't? What if she went in there and-
"You look lovely Elizabeth." Her thoughts were cut off by her father's words, giving him a thankful smile they went into the crowded room, even with the extensive size of the Swann's mansion the room seemed packed; and so still incredibly nervous she was paraded around the room. The brown eyed girl greeted guests and completely hid the underlying nerves that plagued her, each move she made was planned to seem graceful and elegant.
It wasn't until she had gotten stuck in a conversation with one of her father's friends that she felt her calm facade begin to slip. Mr. Thompson was an older man with dull, wrinkle surrounded gray eyes and an even more dull monotone voice that could lull even the most active mind into a state of absolute boredom. He was speaking of his young son, well actually he wasn't that young in fact he was a year older than she, and the great accomplishments he had made. It was blatantly obvious to her what his intentions were, he wanted her to gain interest in his son, perhaps consider accepting whatever future proposal may come from him. Fanning herself lightly she attempted to stay calm. Never had she ever considered that already people were considering marriage, she had just turned fifteen that morning and while it wasn't uncommon for women her age to marry it was certainly not something she wanted or was overly eager to pursue. All the while as Thompson spoke his son stood by his side, absorbing all the praises laid out before him, a small smile on his lips and every few moments and appreciative glance would be swept over her from his direction. Elizabeth tried not to shiver in disgust.
"Pardon me Mr. Thompson but I do believe Ms. Swann promised me a dance." Elizabeth turned in confusion to see James Norrington standing behind her. Handsome as ever he stood tall and proud, he looked more like he belonged in a palace than on a ship. He gave her a polite smile and offered his arm to her. Turning she complimented the two on how lovely it was to see them before accepting James' arm and walking away.
"Thank you, Jam-Captain Norrington." She corrected herself quickly. With age came the ideas of manners and calling him James now would have been cause for embarrassment. Elizabeth attempted to remove herself when his free hand stopped her, his gloved hand rested on hers, "I meant it when I said I expected a dance." She smiled at him, noticing the amusement and playfulness in his sea green eyes which had long been absent. With a nod she conceded and allowed herself to be lead to the center of the room where the dancing had begun.
All her nerves seemed to vanish as they stood across from each other, he gave her a reassuring smile as the music began. They bowed and curtsied to each other as the dance began, stepping forward their hands met and they gave the smallest bend of the knee before stepping apart so only one hand remained touching the opposite, they turned all the while. Again they moved closer to one another, hands never breaking contact as arms crossed and smooth palms met gloved ones, each time they touched they bent down slightly, like coming off a hop. Now step closer, she reminded herself as the dance continued on and they once again turned, one set of palms keeping them together. Her feet felt like they were floating as she gracefully stepped away from him and they turned about. With a small bow they came together again, shoulder to shoulder, each facing the opposite way they turned, arm bend slightly like picking a flower (as her instructor described it) and repeated the step again. Even with the structure of the dance it was if they were the only two people left, moving in this endless dance like wind through leaves on crisp English day. It could have been mere moments that passed by or entire hours, in those movements time ceased to rule them and others made no difference to the two. All too soon he took her hand for the last time and standing side by side they took one step forward and one more back. With a separating and a final bow, whatever spell had been cast over her was broken.
The sweet sound of music faded away into chatter and the shuffling of fabrics, a woman's loud cackle swept through her ears like an awful hurricane. Her partner stood across from her, a smile on his lips which she returned, sure that she was blushing for having been so caught up in the dance that she'd forgotten the world around them even existed. He moved forward to speak with her but was cut off by the governor's intrusion. "Marvelous dear, come now there is someone you must meet."
Being pulled away she cast a glance over her shoulder, her brown eyes meeting green ones, perhaps becoming a part of society would not be as terrible as she thought.