Originally posted on LiveJournal.

A/N: This story is based on the piece, 'An English Sea Song Suite'; its chapters are named after each movement. I wrote it about a year ago and never got around to posting it on here. So I will post it a chapter a day (there are only five) on here. But you could probably hunt it down over at LiveJournal if you bothered. If not, here it is anyway!

The Saucy Arethusa first appeared in William Shield's 1796 play Lock and Key where the hero, a naval officer, sang it as a serenade under the window of his lady-love; the song achieved immediate and lasting popularity. The Arethusa was a British naval vessel which had given chase to and engaged the French ship La Belle Poule in June 1778.

-0-

SEPTEMBER, 1773

"You have a beautiful home, sir," the Lieutenant said monotonously. I sighed. Honestly, how boring has the world's propriety become? He's the fifth person to have said the exact same thing. It's just a house.

"Why, thankyou, Lieutenant; I find it rather... homely-" my father chuckled at his own wit (or lack thereof, if you ask me) "-and I'm very glad someone agrees."

"I cannot see why they would not, sir." Norrington answered. I stifled a laugh from where I sat in the next room. Everyone loved to play pet with my father. Quite annoying, now that I come to think about it. "It is indeed quite lovely." The way the Lieutenant said lovely with his unusually deep voice made it sound almost sarcastic. Father tittered.

"Oh, where are my manners-" I rolled my eyes. Father always used that excuse to introduce me. I stood up. "-you must greet my daughter Elizabeth. She must be nearby; new places frighten her-" For goodness' sake, would he never learn? I'm not one of those gossiping, overdressed ladies from the port, thank you very much! "-I'll call her over right away. Elizabeth!"

Straightening my skirts and grumbling under my breath, I made my way into the front sitting room where my father and Norrington were. Norrington looked exactly like he did on the Dauntless – expressionless, uniformed with the silly wig and all. I wished all those sailors would at least remove the wig. All it did was make them all look like complete fools.

I curtseyed. "Good afternoon, Lieutenant," I said, in as much of a drone as I could. Maybe they'd see the error of their boring ways.

"And to you, Miss Swann." Oh, for the love of... Why must they always call me that? I do have a name. Only Will calls me Elizabeth.

There was a moment's silence as the Lieutenant glanced from me to my father, who was busying himself with his cup of tea. In that time, I noticed two things. One, there was an enormous cobweb in the corner of the ceiling, and two, Norrington's eyes were green. That was odd. I'd never seen green eyes before.

My father cleared his throat. "Yes, well, Elizabeth, if you'd excuse yourself? The Lieutenant and I have matters to discuss."

I curtseyed again, flashing a brilliantly artificial smile at Norrington, whose eyes glimmered back. "Of course, Father. Lovely-" I imitated Norrington "-to meet you again, Lieutenant."

I scurried out of the house. I walked out through the front door and, making sure nobody was sticking their nose into my whereabouts, ducked into the flowerbed underneath the window of the front room. Sure enough it was open; my father's jolly voice and Norrington's deep one were easy enough to hear.

"So a raid on that ship... the Princess, if I recall?" Father's voice was riddled with concern. Princess. I'd heard of that ship somewhere.

"According to the Turner boy, yes."

Will?

"I see. Did he have any account of the voyage, or was there anything else worth noting that he spoke of?"

Oh. The one that got scuttled by pirates.

"I, well... his mother... she..." There was a faint rustle of fabric. Norrington was probably getting uncomfortable. A small part of me wondered what he looked like when he blushed. I stifled a giggle. "I am... do you wish for me to speak freely? I fear this topic will offend, governor."

"Nonsense; I'm sure I can stomach it."

"Well, not just you, sir." More movement. "Your daughter, who is listening outside through that open window."

Tattletale!

I cursed silently to myself as Father walked toward the window. "Elizabeth? Apologies, Lieutenant Norrington, she is a curious one – Elizabeth." He stuck his head out the window and looked at me, crouching in a most unladylike way in the flowerbed. "Where are your manners? It is most rude of you to eavesdrop like that, especially in front of a guest of such occupation! Stand up, stand up-" I obeyed sulkily, pouting "-and busy yourself with something else."

I crossed my arms defiantly. "But this topic is much more interesting than the butlers babbling on about 'tarts'. I've never seen them make any sort of dessert-"

I was interrupted by laughter. It was the Lieutenant.

He had a very nice laugh - not like those fake ones that all the other upstanding gentlemen had. This one sounded real. As if I had told a very good joke. The laughter only lasted a second or two before Norrington's face went back to its expressionless mask, but even from where I stood, his eyes smirked. I almost smiled at him, but Father made a disapproving noise. Norrington blushed.

I smiled then.

Father glared at me, and said as evenly as he could, "I apologise for my daughter's behaviour. It is the shock of leaving England; this new area has taken her by surprise."

I resisted the urge to stamp my foot. "That's not true, Father! I've never said that, but you tell that to all of those stuffy, high-ranking people that talk to you."

Father's jaw tightened as Norrington laughed again.

DECEMBER, 1773

"James?" I used his first name, which as usual caught his attention more easily.

"Yes, Miss Swann?"

"Why do people have to be so stuffy all the time?"

He laughed through his nose. "You of all people would know the answer to that, Miss-"

"Elizabeth." I interrupted defiantly.

He nodded, not really paying attention, and resumed walking. Since he had my much smaller hand in his, I was forced to go along. But I didn't give up the questioning. "I know why they have to – it's just proper." I let the annoyance seep into the word.

"Indeed."

"But," I pressed on, "why do we have to be proper? If everyone wasn't then nobody would have to pretend to be wooden."

"Well, I'm sure many share your opinion, Mi- Elizabeth, but I suppose it's a matter of proprietary standards."

Matter of… Could he please use easy English for once?

We fell silent again, continuing our walk. It was another nice day in the Caribbean – which, I noticed, was just an average day in these parts – and the day before Christmas. I hadn't yet asked James if he was attending the dinner Father would be holding tomorrow night, and I dearly hoped he would. If I were to be the only young one there, chances were I'd be forced to play the pianoforte or sing for the guests. At least if James were there, I'd have someone to back me up.

"Most eminent of you to attend, Lady Kingsley. And you, Lady Miller! Yes, welcome to our home, Captain Moffat. Oh, Arthur Ryan, so glad you could make it on time! Yes, yes, take a seat."

I rolled my eyes. How my father managed to sound so enthusiastic and genuine, I'll never know. Another stuffy tea party. And how many guests were there this time?

"We'll sit you between these two, Captain Pemfield – oh, thankyou, Lieutenant Norrington, yes, you can take your seat there, now." I smiled broadly at that. James had made it - at least this congregation would be a little more exciting than the last.

I walked into the room. Six or seven pairs of eyes looked at me, only two pairs shining brightly at my presence. I curtseyed politely at the gaggle of squawking people and took my seat at the rectangular table. I sat right across from James! I couldn't help grin in relief at him across the table.

Halfway through the meal, James and the Dauntless' quartermaster Mr Ryan seemed to get into an argument. Most of Ryan's remarks about Captain Philip (whoever he was) seemed too bold (to the guests, anyway; I quite enjoyed seeing a more inebriated side of normally stuffy men) were getting onto James' nerves. He'd told me once that he didn't quite like Ryan's attitude, and since the quartermaster had had a lot more brandy than most, it was worse tonight. It had reached the point where the other guests had ceased all other conversation and were instead listening to them argue on.

I felt I should calm James down a little; any higher decibel from either man would make Father end the evening, which I didn't want since James was here. I didn't want him to leave so soon.

"I think it is your drink talking, sailor," James said evenly, "perhaps ease off a little on the brandy-"

"Are you telling me how to drink now, Lieutenant? We're not even on the ship!" The intensity of his statement was not altered by his fake chuckle, although most of our other guests smiled artificially in an awkward attempt to slow the argument.

James put his hands underneath the table. It was a habit of his; whenever he became annoyed he balled his fist and grazed his knuckles against his hand. His jaw tightened considerably and I discreetly reached underneath the table, taking one of his hands.

His eyes smiled at me briefly, and the table fell silent, save for Lady Miller's polite cough.

Father wiped his brow after a few moments. "Perhaps my daughter would like to sing us a Christmas carol."

"Of course, Father."

I shared a look with James, who smiled encouragingly. I pouted subtly in his direction and his smile turned into a smirk. The nerve…

"Only if Lieutenant Norrington joins me."

James reddened.

A-ha.

Father, too, seemed to have had more than his fair share of drink, because he let out an uncharacteristic giggle and nodded. "Why not. Of course. Please do!"

I smiled innocently at James, who stood up with me. That was easy.

My turn to smirk.

FEBRUARY, 1775

"I'm feel as though I'm fourteen already," I sighed unhappily, fidgeting on the bench where we sat.

James turned his head, his face concerned. "Why is that?"

I glanced back at him, and then looked away. "It's not. I just wanted to break the silence."

He laughed. "I see. And did you want me to begin a conversation about the weather?"

"What about it? It's just sunny again."

"Is that so bad? It is your birthday tomorrow, after all. The world is happy for you."

I refrained from mentioning that the world always seemed this happy.

"Is there something you wished to do, then?" He asked, noting my discomfort at sitting idly in the middle of a garden. "Perhaps a walk somewhere? You've at least two hours before your father comes back home. And I am off duty all day."

"If you're off duty," I grumbled, "why must you don that uniform?" I snatched his hat off of his head, gesturing at the ridiculous wig. "And that thing on your head. Why is it there? Nobody else is here to reprimand you."

"I…"

"And," I continued, "I've only ever seen your hair twice. I think it's brown."

James blushed. "It would be improp-"

"Oh, come on, James. For me. As a birthday gift."

That will get him.

"Very well." He mumbled, still pink. When I'd first met him, I'd always thought he was unable to show any kind of emotion other than sarcastic amusement, anger, or none at all. It only took a request that he remove his hat, coat, or wig, and he'll turn scarlet. Secretly I found his blush endearing, since it was so rare. "I shall do so if you return my hat."

"What kind of deal is this? You don't want to be rid of that thing?" I protested. Really, I just wanted him to blush for as long as he could.

He smirked, despite his flushed expression. "On the contrary, Miss Swann. I fear that, should someone walk out into the garden and find me without a hat or wig, and you holding those garments, we would be whispered about amongst… people."

"Such as?"

He thought for a moment. "Lady Miller."

I shuddered. "For both our sakes, then-" I flung the hat back at him, "-have your hat back. And take the wig off already."

If anything, he reddened deeper as he pulled off the white wig. Without thinking he ran a hand through his hair, muttering something inaudible under his breath. He caught me staring and dropped his hand.

"Happy now, Miss Sw-"

"Elizabeth."

He bowed his head mockingly. "Allow me to rephrase that. Are you satisfied, Elizabeth?"

I tugged at a clump of his long brown hair, giggling when he bit his lip. "Yes. But really, you should be thanking me."

"Oh?" He quirked a brow. His lack of wig made his facial expressions look so much more genuine it was a wonder I recognised him – odd as that sounds.

"Mhm. The wig really is hideous. Pointless, at that."

The colour in his face lessened slightly, but he was still quite red.

"I agree."

Father shook James' hand vigorously. "Thankyou for taking care of her all day, sir, goodness knows what a handful she was."

I rolled my eyes. I'm standing right beside him. He could at least acknowledge me.

"Not at all, Governor. I believe you are hosting a garden party tomorrow evening?"

Father nodded, grinning, "You are attending, I hope?"

"Without doubt, sir." James smiled at me. He never smiled in Father's presence! Not genuinely, anyway. It was always a polite smile or laugh at a flat joke.

"Excellent! Now, I must see to a task in my office and I'm afraid I shan't have time tomorrow – no need to burden you with the tale of my work, so I must excuse myself. Elizabeth, kindly show Lieutenant Norrington to the door."

I bounced on my heels.

"Thankyou again, sir, I shall see you tomorrow."

"No, no, thankyou," Father insisted, shaking James' hand again and disappearing up the stairs.

I took James' hand, grinning impishly at him. "Thankyou for today, James."

"You're welcome, Elizabeth."

I pulled a look of feigned bewilderment. "You called me by my Christian name! How can I ever thank you?"

"There is no need… Miss Swann."

I pouted mockingly, pulling him toward the front door. He lifted my hand and kissed it, and I pretended to fan myself. I laughed, "Is that necessary?"

A raise of the brows. "I thoroughly enjoyed today. I shall see you tomorrow, Elizabeth."

His grin was contagious, and I didn't care if it was improper - I hugged him in reply.