Author's Note: Hello and welcome to my fic "Mrs. Commodore." A few notes before me begin. Firstly, even though I have this fic plotted out nicely I am posting it more as an experiment. So if you like it, please review and tell me so. I have posted it mainly to see what response I will get with this plot so there is a chance of it coming down and getting reworked. Secondly, this is a strictly Norrington/OC fic, there will be no Jack/OC as it may seem. Thirdly, this is not an unrequited love, angst fic, in fact I intend it to be humorous and have its share of action-adventure. Well, I think that does it for now. Enjoy!
Disclaimer: I do not own the Pirates of the Caribbean or its characters.
Summary
Commodore Norrington's wife loves her husband dearly, but when she finds that their relationship has become strained she enlists Captain Sparrow and his crew to help patch up their marriage.
Mrs. Commodore
Chapter One A Family Man
Commodore Norrington walked slowly up the brick path that led to his house. Rosebushes lined the walkway, heavy with crimson blossoms. The lawns were trimmed and even the vines that crawled about the gazebo towards the back of the gardens had a neat, precise look about them. Brilliant violets basked in the warm rays of the setting sun. Lilies bowed gracefully from amongst a cluster of well-groomed hedges. The air rested humidly about him with the thick perfume of the gardens pressing close like a lover's kiss.
He paused and let his gaze catch upon the purring sea just visible from the front of the manor. The fashionable house was not his first in Port Royal but rather his second. It looked more like the home of a family man instead of a naval commander. But times change and tides shift. No longer could he define his life just by his rank.
Turning back up the path he moved towards the house. Paces from the door, however, a clamor rang from the back where the stables stood. The tapping of hooves and frantic snorts pierced the quietude.
"Whoa there lassie! Keep steady!" Men grunted, a horse whinnied nervously. Norrington sighed, he knew that whinny all too well. The clatter ceased and a gate swung shut forcefully. A young man trotted around to the front of the house. The lad appeared no more than seventeen with pink skin that flushed easily. He had not been in Caribbean long.
"Charles!" The boy spun around at the sound of his name and straightened up as he saw his employer.
"Sir." He bowed smartly and shuffled his feet so as to hide the grass stains on his tan breeches.
"What's all the fuss?" Norrington asked, brows knitting together in concern. The boy had never appeared so undone before.
"Bit o'trouble sir," Charles said, raking a hand through his blond hair where it stuck to his sweaty forehead.
"Good Lord," Norrington muttered tersely. "Maeve again I suppose? That blasted beast."
Charles nervously shrunk back at his words. "Mistress didn't want anyone to tell you sir."
"Never mind Charles, I'm sure you did you best."
"Yes sir." Now the boy swelled at the compliment. "If I may say so, sir, that mare has the devil in her. Unruliest creature I've ever handled."
"So it would seem." The Commodore walked a few paces and caught hold of the doorknob. "Don't worry yourself over it."
Charles nodded and dashed back around to the stable yard. Norrington pushed open the white door only to have it pulled out of his clutches. The beaming face of a child appeared in the small opening.
"Papa!" With a board smile Norrington scooped the little boy into his arms.
"Hello there James. Had a pleasant day?" His son squirmed in his arms, chubby fingers fiddling with the gold facings on his uniform coat.
"Mmm, horses!" Little James exclaimed and thumped his legs against his father's stomach. Though only three and a half years old the boy displayed both the physical and mental characteristics of his father, his dark brown hair matched his serious yet gentle face that seemed to mimic the Commodore's own.
"Horses?" Norrington asked, feeling a certain degree of trepidation brought on by Charles's harried manner.
Little James's eyes brightened and he clung to his father's neck. "Maeve jumped a fence and ran away."
"Oh dear." The very mention of the mare's name made his body tense. Why his wife ever kept such a wild horse…
"This high." Little James held out his hand and let it lay in the air by Norrington's shoulder to show the height of the particular fence. "Ran fast."
"James!" A delicate voice scolded from the parlor door. Nelly gathered her skirts and rushed down the hall. "Mama said not to tell."
But Little James smiled smugly and rested his head on his father's shoulder.
"No greeting for your father?" Norrington held out his free arm and the girl rushed into his half embrace.
"I'm sorry Papa," she mumbled, turning her rosy face up to gaze at him. "James wasn't supposed to tell. Mama will be angry."
"No." Little James glared down at his older sister. His small feet dangled just above her copper curls. Nelly frowned and her blue eyes went soft with worry.
"But Papa…"
"It is no matter," Norrington interrupted, earning a quizzical look from his six year old daughter. She too had a serious disposition like her father but often she displayed the calm confidence of her mother. "Come, let us see where Mama is."
"In there," Little James offered, pointing down the hallway to the dining room door. Norrington placed his son on the floor and let him run ahead. Nelly, however, twisted the lace on her sleeve and looked at her father pensively.
"He wasn't supposed to tell," she said slowly.
"I won't say a word," he replied, touching her cheek. She smiled gratefully and followed her brother into the dining room.
The Commodore removed his hat and placed it on a small side table in the hallway. Running his hands over his wig he smoothed the hair and made sure the rolls of curls where in place. After nearly seven years of marriage he still tried to look pleasant for his wife. It was the least he could do. Adjusting his jacket, he rounded the corner and stepped into the dining room. The bright light from the setting sun streamed in through the windowpanes blinding him for an instant. But moving further into the room the shining rays died and he could see once more.
"No good," his wife said. She sat at the end of the long table. The white linen tablecloth looked yellowed in the beams of the strong sun, but her tawny hair burned. A maid stood nearby, waiting dutifully as her mistress inspected the silverware. "No good," she repeated and picked up a grimy looking spoon. "Needs to be washed."
"Yes mistress." The servant curtsied and bore the tray of silverware out of the room.
"James," her somewhat firm voice washed over him. "I didn't hear you come in my dear." She rose and pushed the chair back with her hips.
"Maeve jumped a fence," Little James added excitedly, unable to contain himself.
"See! See what I said Mama," Nelly snapped. "Never tell him anything, he can't keep a secret."
"Yes I can." Little James went red with indignation and held his small head up proudly.
"Hush." Their mother laid a hand on each of their shoulders. "Your Papa's just come home. Now is not the time for bickering." The children hushed. And just as she had been stern a moment ago, a small smile creased her freckled faced and lightened her eyes. Her cheekbones stuck out too much though and highlighted her already large nose.
"Emer." Norrington moved forward and kissed her. She was of an odd sort, quiet with either a stern face or a gentle smile. She did not speak much and when she did her words were simple and strong. But if he could be certain of one thing, he knew that she loved him dearly. Unfortunately, he could not say the same for himself. Norrington shook the horrid thoughts within him, dispelling them with a caring glance at his wife. "Maeve had another 'incident'," he said carefully.
Emer's smile lit the room, rivaling the orange sunbeams. "You should have seen it James. One of the stable lads left her stall open just enough and she bolted. Straight over the garden wall, arched her neck nicely all the while." Her enthusiasm puzzled him, as did the love for her horse that never seemed content in the stable.
"I can't imagine," Norrington replied.
"No, you can't. She is a hunter for sure." A hint of her brogue came out when she spoke excitedly, he noted. Perhaps she had not lost it after all.
"What's a hunter?" Little James bobbed up and down just behind his mother.
"A horse used for fox hunting," Norrington answered him.
"No foxes here." Little James scrunched up his face in thought.
"No, child," Emer said, her words riding on a sigh. "Not here, in England though and Ireland."
"She's a danger," Norrington continued, wheeling back to the original topic of the feisty Maeve. "That horse will injure someone."
Emer shook her head. "She is gentle James. Just needs a stretch of her legs every now and then. She won't do any harm."
Norrington left it at that, though he never fully understood his wife's wisdom.
"Mistress." The maid reappeared. "Dinner is about ready."
Emer nodded. The maid took this as a sign of dismissal and left. The servants had long become accustomed to their mistress's silent commands. Emer turned her beaming regard back on her husband. Norrington suddenly felt uncomfortable under her loving gaze, like a pirate that pretends to be an honest merchant sailor.
"Wash, children." The children made faces but again obeyed. The sound of their feet ran up the stairs until they thundered above in the nursery. His wife gently grasped his forearm, her powerful gaze caught his. "I must see to them."
"Yes." With little thought he leaned down and gave her a departing kiss. She sallied from the room. Norrington did not watch her go. Instead his eyes caught the ocean that glinted just outside. It was a faceless companion, a place where his shame would never be judged. The waters shone like liquid gold near the horizon while pools of indigo churned closer to the rocks. He did love his wife, he decided. And of course he treasured his children more than anything. Yet still, a thought haunted the back of his mind and like a galleon parting the mist it became all the more clearer. She looked the same as she had seven years ago when she accepted his proposal aboard the Dauntless. His heart still beat brokenly, for Elizabeth Swann.
Author's Note: Thanks for reading. I apologize for any grammatical or spelling mistakes that might have occurred. Due to circumstances out of my control I have not had a beta for this fic and I did my best to eliminate any errors that I found. If you would, however, be interested in betaing my Pirates of the Caribbean fics, please contact me. Thanks again!