The dining room was quiet, the silence broken only by the scrape of silverware against the fine china and the slight scuff of the servants' shoes against the polished floor as they carried platters of rich foods, balanced perfectly on upraised hands. Governor Swann beckoned for a servant to bring him meat and gazed across the table at his young daughter, eyeing her thoughtfully. As he lowered a portion of ham to his plate, he casually mentioned, "I received a letter from Lieutenant Norrington today. He sends his regards."

Elizabeth lowered her knife and speared a small chunk of potato with her fork, daintily lifting it to her mouth. She chewed, swallowed, and dabbed her lips with her napkin, then smiled politely in response to her father's remark. "How nice. Perhaps we should invite him for a meal."

"I quite agree," Weatherby said, encouraged by his daughter's answer. She reminded him so much of her mother, God bless her soul. Both women were incredibly headstrong, firm in their opinions and unafraid of making their thoughts known. This reaction to Norrington's letter, however, had set Weatherby's nerves on edge since the early hours of the morning when the butler had presented him with a sealed envelope that bore the officer's signature. Elizabeth's opinions of the lieutenant were not overly clear; he scarcely dared to raise his hopes that his young daughter might take an interest in a man of his stature. By all accounts, Weatherby noted, it would be a smart match.

He watched as Elizabeth smiled up at a servant lowering a platter for her. "Elizabeth," he began, cautious as he moved into hostile territory.

"Yes, Father?"

Weatherby cleared his throat, dabbing his mouth with a napkin. A servant poured fresh water into his glass; he lifted it to his lips and drank deeply. His throat had suddenly gone dry. When had discussing marriage become such an impossible feat? He had known this day would eventually come, had prepared for it from the moment he first held his daughter as an infant. Proposing a match between her and young Norrington would ensure a bright future for his only daughter. He could rest assured that she would be provided for, would want for nothing. Perhaps she would even become a mother.

He looked up into warm brown eyes and felt his heart melt into a puddle within the cavity of his chest. How could he even consider letting her go? She was all he had left. She was, and forever would be, his precious little girl.

"Nothing, dearest."