Summary/Author's Note: Hello everyone and welcome to the first chapter of Rubicon! This fic is the sequel to "My Friendliest" and will be told in a series of diary entries written by Lord Beckett and his wife. For those of you who are not familiar with classic history, the Rubicon is the river Julius Caesar crossed when he first began to seize Rome for himself. I do not have a beta, so any mistakes are my fault and my fault alone. Any and all feedback is highly appreciated. Enjoy!
Disclaimer: I do not own Pirates of the Caribbean or its characters.
January 12, 1731
Dearest Diary,
There is much to tell, but time is scarce. The noise from downstairs rattles the entire house and my young son cries loud and often. Such disturbances trouble him and I have been hard put to lull him to sleep. For hours I rested him upon my breast and still he would not quiet. At last I handed him off Agnes who managed to calm him. She hummed a little tune and walked him round and round the room until he fell asleep. I dare not move from my place by the window now, lest I should disturb him.
Oh, what a frantic week it has been! On Monday morn, I sat at my dressing table brushing my hair. Heavy clouds settled over the rising sun and there was a frost on the ground. I had just risen and was still garbed in only my nightclothes when Agnes came rushing into my room in a most excited state.
"My lady, there is a man from Port Royal to see you. A right tall and fine man with a blue coat. He's downstairs in the parlor." She said all this in such a rush that I could barely understand her. But when I did, such fear was mine.
Could some ill have befallen Cutler? I could not breathe and my heart beat so fast that the room spun before my own eyes. But dear Agnes was quick to allay my fears. She said at once that he had a message from my husband, an important message.
In haste, I dressed and hurried down to meet the gentleman. He stood looking out the far window, as Cutler often did and he had his hands linked behind his back. So tall was he that for a moment I was afraid. What if he meant harm?
Several footmen were standing by and I requested that they accompany me into the parlor. It is not wise for a lady of fine breeding to face a strange man on her own, especially one from such a torrid place as the Caribbean.
My fingers trembled but I folded my hands over my middle and addressed the gentleman. He seemed startled and he hunched his broad shoulders, like a dog that has been so cruelly whipped. Yet then he turned and smiled and offered me a regal bow.
A strange man he was. So very tall and handsome and possessing such an air of stoic control. But his eyes ached and there was terrible pain behind his smile. I thought his heart must be broken.
"My Lady Beckett." His tone sounded warm, full and fresh. Before I could respond he produced a letter and requested that I read it. He needed no further introduction.
I took a brief moment to read the note, though I found my eyes blurred with tears and I could no longer distinguish the words. The man was silent and patient as I fought to subdue my fierce emotions.
As it is, Cutler has sent for me. My joy cannot be measured in words or vague thoughts. I can only say that I am happy and so wonderfully relieved.
After I had finished with the note, I looked back at the man. "James Norrington?" I asked for the letter indicated his identity.
"Yes, my lady." He bowed once more, his hat tucked beneath his arm.
"You have come to collect me, then." We sat across from each other by the hearth. Agnes brought a tray of tea and biscuits. Mr. Norrington looked famished.
"Your husband has decreed that I escort you to Port Royal," he said. He was a true gentleman and waited for me to choose a biscuit before he lifted a finger. "We are business associates, if you will." Something darkened his eyes when he spoke, but I did not question him. "I have a ship, the Ardent Lassie, anchored in the harbor. I should hope to depart in several days as soon as you have settled your affairs and I have seen to mine."
"Your affairs, sir?" I did not mean to press him but curiosity is my foe. He seemed ashamed then.
"Your husband has also requested that I pay a visit to your uncle. He wishes…"
But I would not let him finish. My indifference alone caused me shame. "Lord Beckett wishes you to challenge my uncle to a duel. He was always fond of dueling himself and I suppose he wishes his satisfaction, even in the Caribbean. My uncle is old, sir."
"I have my orders, my lady." His face looked drawn. "I must…"
"I do not wish to dissuade you, Mr. Norrington," I told him. "I only wish to inform you that if you have any skill with a sword, victory shall be yours. But I must ask, do you not want to know what it is you fight for?"
He lowered his eyes and once more hunched his shoulders. "That is not my business, my lady. I have my orders."
"My uncle called me a whore, sir. You fight for my honor." I said it with little fuss and did not regret it. If he was truly an associate of my husband, he would know not to repeat my words. If so, Cutler would see to him with his own blade.
Such is the worth of being wed to an ambitious and feared man. My mother might call me a horrid whelp, but here I am, a noblewoman whilst she descends into poverty.
I must confess I felt a great sense of giddiness come over me when I saw Mr. Norrington's oppressed expression. Poor man! I daresay he isn't accustomed to forward women. Perhaps the Caribbean sun has tainted his mind but I fear it is rather the torment lurking within him.
We spoke at length and I questioned him, thoroughly. Cutler would have been proud. It is a foolish woman who trusts a strange man at first glance. Of course, the note he provided bore my husband's seal and boasted his own handwriting. But any scoundrel could have stolen the note and murdered the true Mr. Norrington.
But it seems like this man is genuine, or at least has his wits about him. He answered my every question with great confidence and only a man close to my husband would know of the affair with my wretched uncle.
After our discourse, I sent him back to town to find room at an inn. However trustworthy he seemed, his polite mannerisms did not induce foolishness on my part. I shall not have an unknown man under my roof for a night.
The rest of my day was spent in preparation for the journey. I sent word to Harriet and she soon arrived to aid me, though she remained silent and terse most of the time. My sister dreads the very thought of my leave-taking. But I am afraid she must adapt to the prospect or spend the rest of her time in tears. I did not mention Mr. Norrington's business with uncle though, that would send her straight into hysterics.
I gave most of the servants notice of their dismissal that Monday. I felt sorry for a few, men with large families and little fortune. Several I kept as Cutler requested to keep our house and four altogether I convinced to accompany me to the Caribbean.
It took a good deal of coercion to convince dear Agnes to journey with me. She worried after her mother in Yorkshire, but I promised her good pay. After a long while, she agreed, much to my satisfaction. I had her bustling about the rest of the day, arranging my belongings and packing them away.
The next morning I received word that Mr. Norrington had hired a post-chaise and made the journey to my uncle's home. He did not return until evening with somber features and blood speckling his sleeves. I took him out of the room at once for Harriet sat nearby. He informed me that the duel had only been fought on the grounds of an insult to his employer, my husband. However, he did little harm to uncle in the end. They only fought until first blood was drawn.
I doubt Cutler will be pleased with the news, but Mr. Norrington looked so earnest and weary that I shall try to intercede on his behalf. Harriet still does not know of the event. I hope she remains ignorant for the time being, until I am aboard the ship and nearing Port Royal.
The past three days have past in a harried blur. I have settled accounts and instructed the remaining servants of their duties. I have shifted through my belongings in search of items only dear to me and just last evening, I went down to the stables to bid farewell to the horses. Besides Harriet, I think I shall miss them the most.
The house has fallen silent now. Only every so often does the front door open and close. Young Cutler sleeps in peace and I watch virgin snowflakes sweep past the window panes. I suppose I do not wish to leave England. I would rather Cutler return home to me now that we may raise our son in his native land.
The Caribbean must be a cruel place filled with endless heat, wretched illness and of course, pirates. But my home is not my own without Cutler and I know he should follow me to the ends of the earth if I asked it of him.
Outside, the carriage has just rolled up the drive. I can scarce see the wheels through the blinding snow. Harriet is at my door, I can hear the tears in her voice. I must go.
Lady Anne Beckett