Lieutenant Nathaniel Gillette sighed. He hated these things, and unfortunately there seemed to be plenty of weddings to go to lately. Nathaniel also knew that soon he too would have to attend his own. Yet he did have to concede to himself that this was a refreshing change from his cot in the sick wing. He looked down at his right leg furtively. It was permanently stiff, and he knew that his superiors worried about it. What was the use of a commander who could not keep up with his crew, after all? To further heighten things, during the engagement with the Black Pearl, Gillette had been seriously wounded. It was a struggle for him to stand for long periods of time and at Sparrow's hanging he had reopened his wounds. This cost Nathaniel an extra few weeks in the hospital wing.
It irritated him to no end that he could not go out there and be of some use. He huffed impatiently and glared at an all too familiar face. Mrs. Elizabeth Turner. Unconsciously, Gillette's face contorted in disgust. Mrs. Turner had done nothing in the weeks after the attack to improve her standing in his mind. True, she had donated quite a considerable lot of money to rebuilding the city, and even some of her time. But there was something missing. There was such a capacity for compassion of the pirates and townspeople, but apparently she could find very little for the Navy.
"For heaven's sake Nathaniel, are you going to stand there all day glaring at Mrs. Turner?"
Nathaniel groaned and turned to see his good friend, Lieutenant Theodore Groves approach.
Groves smiled good-naturedly and gestured to the crowd. "Come now, look at all these pretty ladies. Surely there is at least one that can tempt you, Gillette?"
Rolling his eyes he muttered, "Theodore, is that all you think about?"
Shrugging, he laughed. "On a vaguely serious note, what do you think of the new Mrs. Norrington?"
Nathaniel shuddered a little. From what he'd seen, Mrs. Charlotte Norrington would be an interesting woman indeed. She was short, with long blond hair and large blue eyes, and her wedding dress seemed to positively engulf her small frame. She had referred to Gillette as a militia man and was apparently appalled by the lack of dancing in the city.
"She's too thin." He said finally.
Groves looked at him incredulously. "Excuse me?"
Gillette cleared his throat, "Well, she's too thin. Just- just look at her. Why she could never feed a man properly! How are you to be fed properly if the person in charge of the meal looks like they're starving?"
"Unbelievable." Groves muttered. "And you say that I'm the vain one?"
He walked stiffly around the ballroom, knowing full well what the whispers were for. James hated it, the pointed glances, the hushed comments that just happened to stop right when he arrived. Suppressing a sigh, he locked in his shoulders and composed his face as best he could.
Elizabeth inwardly frowned and turned away. She remembered a time not too long ago when his face broke into a wide smile, and how his eyes crinkled at their corners when he did so. But that was before, and now she couldn't see any action that would heal the blow she dealt him. She sighed heavily and looked around the room, wishing to be anywhere but there.
"- well, what do you think Mr. Turner thinks of all this? I mean really, would any man want his wife after that?"
"Caesar did say after all, that even his wife must be above suspicion." Lieutenant Groves whispered coyly. Elizabeth looked up sharply in his direction and flashed a grateful smile. He bowed and quickly walked away.
"Lieutenant Groves!"