Hi guys! I'm so glad I got my story favorited (Enigma Starflare) and another 3 reviews (Thorsten P. Ziegler, englishfreckle and TheBlackestOfRoses)! Now this little story can continue... and if this update seems a little delayed, I apologize, but this is probably going to be the rate they'll be updated, because I have to proof read and copy it from my notebook. Add to that all those annoying end-of-year assignments and events we get... I don't have much time to type anymore, through all the homework and such. So I apologize in advance.
But I made it longer than usual! Unless they stay this long...
Note in this chapter it gets a little suggestive. Not explicitly or anything, but Weatherby was just asking about Elizabeth's sleeping arrangements. Is it over the "K" line? Tell me, please! Getting reported isn't exactly part of my story plan.
This chapter's about Weatherby and Elizabeth getting a little iffy, if that's the right word, about her moving out. Also, call in Captain Jack Sparrow and Hector Barbossa on the Pearl! 'What, no mutiny yet'? Nope, Jack is still captain and Barbossa is still first mate, and the crew haven't contemplated and/or committed mutiny, and they're still in search of the medallion. Hehe, yeah, they're both cursed. Well, if the medallion's been calling, they're on their way to Cape Vergal…
Because of all that, this chapter may be a little longer than I expected... I didn't want to divide it because there was no proper place to do so; I did promise the two squabblers in this chapter so I just made it longer...
Uh, yeah... enjoy!
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"I really do appreciate your decision, Elizabeth," Weatherby smiled at her across the table.
"Well, I couldn't exactly say no, could I?" she replied. Feeling exceptionally joyful that evening, he did not question the meaning of her statement straight away, for it would probably ruin the mood. Nodding as if he understood, Weatherby stuck his fork into a piece of meat, still smiling widely at Elizabeth. "I do hope you didn't accept his proposal purely for the reason of looking proper in society," he went on, against his better judgment. Elizabeth responded by raising a brow at him, "Why would I do that?"
"Oh, well... it's just, you've always had to go against your natural instinct for the sake of looking proper, and this time I was hoping you would choose with your heart and not your head," Weatherby answered cautiously, hoping she didn't take it wrongly. "I also hope, assuming you chose solely for yourself and not propriety, that you do indeed wish to marry the Commodore?"
"Are you in doubt of my decision?" Elizabeth questioned, feeling a little irritated.
"Of course not, dear, I was just..." he trailed off, not knowing how to explain himself. "I just want to have some kind of conversation with you before you move in with him, the house will seem even emptier in your absence, and -" he stopped; Elizabeth had choked on a carrot.
"Are you alright, Elizabeth?" Weatherby asked worriedly.
"I-" she coughed, swallowing the caught vegetable as quietly as she could; trying to make absent the disgusting, wet sound that comes when one swallows too hard. Successful, she nodded at her father, trying to cool herself down.
Move in with him? She had only ever been to his residence once or twice, because her father had insisted he attend one of those boring little government tea parties. She had never been in any further than the sitting room, let alone in his room. His place wasn't exactly small, but it wasn't exactly as big as the Swann mansion. According to the Commodore, it had one bedroom, two guest rooms, the essential rooms like the kitchen, and the sitting room. It really wasn't all that big. Just enough for one person. Or two, she thought with an inward smile.
She just hoped she would get used to his house eventually. She would have to. They were getting married, after all.
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Later on, at the Commodore's residence, Weatherby approached James. He motioned for him to come into the sitting room, away from the kitchen where the maids were fussing over Elizabeth and her dress.
"Commodore Norrington," he began, a little nervously, "I know you, er, care deeply for Elizabeth..." already, he felt awkward at the conversation and considered forgetting about it and resuming the fittings, but he had to get it done and over with. "...and I understand when she moves in, you plan on, ah..." how was he to put it? 'Commodore, I understand you want to sleep with, rather, next to Elizabeth at night, but I do not wish to have any grandchildren yet, so make sure she sleeps in a different bed to you' ? It sounded terribly inappropriate and improper. "...you plan on sharing a-" he coughed "-a bed?"
Norrington blushed.
"Well, I- I presume so, Governor." He said, after much thought. "May I ask the nature of your question?" After a quick thought, he added, "Sir?" The awkwardness of the situation had reached its fullness, and it had the most effect on James. He had never thought Weatherby would have such forwardness, and to be honest he hadn't expected anything from him such as this. Not a question. Not a question of such odd topics, anyway.
"I, well..." Swann bit his lip. His instinct was telling him to forget about it, to run away, and face the consequences of his actions – rather, the consequences of his lack of action.
"I do not want to sound too forward or selfish, but, well, I'm not ready for –" he gulped "-grandchildren; not just yet." It was Weatherby's turn to blush, and at the ridicule, James almost laughed out loud. Restraining the corner of his mouth from lifting up, he nodded. "As you wish, sir," he declared in as much of a distinguished manner as he could.
"Good lad, good lad," the governor nodded, looking away, still embarrassed.
James made his way back to the kitchen behind Weatherby, blushing because no-one was watching anyway. He tried to stop it before they reached Elizabeth but he didn't do it very well: Elizabeth gave him a questioning look before she dismissed the maids. She was back in her own clothes, it was traditional that the groom did not see the dress before the wedding so Elizabeth thought her father had just distracted him from seeing it.
Dismissing the thought, she waved the maids away and joined James and her father in lunch.
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"I'm tellin' ye, it's in Spain!" Barbossa growled at Jack.
"And I'm tellin' ye, it's on Cape Vergal!" Jack snapped back at him.
The crew rolled their eyes. Why they hadn't committed any mutiny yet, they had no clue. The idea of it was getting even more attractive with each passing day. For several years, their quest for the missing medallions had been a long period of arguments between their captain and first mate. It wasn't as though they were going to die, just stay immortal, which, as Ragetti so proudly stated four months prior, "it's the opposite of dyin', so we ain't got nothin' ta worry abou'!"
What they were squabbling about now was where the 2nd-last medallion resided. For all they knew it could be in both Cape Vergal and France. If that was the case, the two men would argue about where to go first. They always had a reason to fight, verbally at least, and it annoyed the heck out of their crewmates. When things did get violent, neither of them ever won. It always ended up with one going over the line with an insult and they were just shouting at each other, swords forgotten on the deck.
Gibbs sighed. He was second mate and, since the captain and first mate never agreed on a decision, he was always the one to make a decision. Of course, the two other men protested, but after some mild threats, Barbossa and Jack eventually agreed. And, it seemed, he was going to decide the destination again this time. He didn't want to take sides, but since they were nearing Jamaican waters already...
"Both of ye, shut up, or I'll lock up th' monkey, throw away its cage key, raid the go'forsaken cellar an' throw away tha' key! An' I'll give th' rum to th' monkey 's well!"
Jack glared at him, but there was a glint of fear in his eyes. Barbossa just rolled his eyes and nodded.
Gibbs resumed his captain-like manner. "We're goin' te Cape Ver-"
"Ah, thanks mate, I'll take i' from 'ere," Jack said smugly.
Barbossa punched his face.
Spitting out a tooth and a mouthful of blood, Jack grinned. "At this rate, me mouth'll be full o' gold, mate."
"It can be full of bilge water for all I care," Barbossa muttered.
Jack regained his own captaincy. "Well, get movin', yeh dirty sea dogs! Make haul the main brace! Snap to, eh, well you know the drill! Headin' north-east!"
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"I do hope you're coping, miss," Estrella said, handing the governor's daughter her quilt. "Getting married is a wonderful virtue, and the Commodore is a very fine man. If it's not too bold to say," she added.
"No, it wasn't. Oh, Estrella, I can't help but wonder what I'm going to do after I move out of here and into his residence. What about the sleeping arrangements? The house keeping? The new maid?" her tone was not patronizing, so Estrella replied with cautious sincerity.
"I do think you're worrying a little, if I may say so," the servant girl smiled. "I wouldn't worry so much, there's no rush, the wedding's in May and it's only January!" Her tone was a little too enthusiastic and Elizabeth knew it.
Sighing, Elizabeth dismissed Estrella with a patient wave of her hand.
Moving in with him, she thought. It was a daunting but exciting prospect; she had only ever slept in her house, save for their small villa back in England. Even then, most of her life had been spent in Jamaica and not Europe. She blushed at no-one at the thought of sleeping with- no, sleeping next to him. How would she react? She wouldn't know. She had never slept in the same bed as anyone, not even her mother. She had always slept alone.
She would just have to deal with it when the time came. Satisfied with that thought, she blew out the candle on her bedside table and closed her eyes.
Not seven houses down, James was thinking over the day's turn of events. '...you plan on sharing a bed?' He hadn't even thought about that, not recently anyway, and the mention took him by surprise. He hadn't considered where she would sleep. He had his own bedroom and two guest rooms, one of which had been quite neglected, its paint peeling in some places and countless cracks on the ceiling. It was bare, save for a creaky mattress and a white desk. He had left it ever since his father had left Port Royal, cleaning it would bring back unwanted, unpleasant memories. He never even let his butler clean it; he wanted nothing to do with the room.
He concentrated his thoughts on the other room. It was considerably cleaner and more taken care of. It had a small bed, a large cupboard and a small desk. It was big enough for Elizabeth, but he couldn't help but feel slightly guilty at not telling her about her father's request. Even more so that he had such a spacious room and she would have one not half the size of his.
Orders are orders, he told himself. Satisfied with that thought, he blew out the candle on his desk, made his way to his bed in the dark and closed his eyes.
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A/N: Haha! They're 'fluffing' without even knowing it...
Well, once again; 2 reviews and a new chapter will magically appear... and it just might involve a swordfight between (gasps) ORLANDO BLOOM AND JOHNNY DEPP! (gasp) (gasp) Oh, yeah, and Jack (Sparrow? Or Davenport? HAHAHA... itsy-cliffie kind of thing!) will kind of, well, do something that changes the entire course of this story, but big deal... :P
