The intense Caribbean sunlight poured through the open windows. Alexandra groaned and placed her pillow over her head. Oh the folly of indulging in too much drink. Still, it had been fun. What had started out as a disastrous interview with her mother-in-law-to-be had turned into an excellent evening of conversation and discomforting James. After Alexandra had had the audacity to challenge Mrs. Norrington's right to question her in such an outrageous manner, the tone of their discourse had suddenly changed.

"Excellent." Mrs. Norrington beamed. "Excellent. You will do very nicely. You have backbone enough to stand up to James when he gets on his high horse. I was afraid that you would be a milquetoast like that Swann girl and that would never do for James."

Evidently James' mother had not heard any of the rumors concerning undead pirates, Davy Jones' heart, Captain Jack Sparrow, and various other bizarre happenings. Alexandra might not like the shabby way that Elizabeth had treated James but, one thing was for certain, the girl was no milquetoast.

How she wished James would tell her more about what had happened during those months but he remained stubbornly silent on the issue. In a town as gossip driven as Port Royal, the Navy had managed to keep a tight lid on everything that had occurred. All that anyone not directly involved knew was that medals, commendations, and Royal pardons had been handed out to all concerned parties and that the East Indian Trading Company had a swift and drastic change in management. James had returned to his rank as Commodore more determined than ever to act in a dignified honorable manner at all times. On occasion, Alexandra spied what she thought was a harder and perhaps even somewhat reckless James, but these moments were fleeting and his mask of cool superiority would quickly slip back into place. She didn't know whether to attribute these changes to what had occurred in the course of his duty or the effects of a broken heart.

She was pondering this puzzle when there sounded a knock on the door. Well Alexandra supposed it was knock but with her aching head she would have been more inclined to believe that a battalion of Huns was at the door. Weakly she called, "Come in."

Her young maid Abigail entered bearing a tray with tea and toast. "Begging your pardon, Miss Alexandra, the Commodore is waiting for you in the parlor. He says that you and he have an appointment with Reverend Giles to discuss the wedding and that later you're to meet his mother for your final dress fitting."

Carefully sitting up, Alexandra gratefully seized on the cup of tea. "Bless you for bringing tea, Abigail."

"Oh that was the Commodore's idea, Miss Alexandra. He said that you might need a little pick me up because you had a most entertaining evening and might be tired from your exertions."

As Abigail began to gather Alexandra's outfit for the day, more snatches of the previous afternoon and evening tumbled into Alexandra's consciousness. Nibbling on a piece of dry toast, she tried to sort out the events of the previous day. She knew that she and Mrs. Norrington had decided to have "a little drink to celebrate the upcoming nuptials". One drink had led to another. She vaguely remembered bits of the conversation;

"I know that James cherished the time that he spent with you and your family. His letters home were always full of joy and spirit. That is the main reason I never interfered with his choice of where to spend his holidays."

"It wasn't that he didn't love us; he was just incapable of expressing those finer feelings. Charles' method of showing his affection was to drum endlessly into James the obligations and responsibilities of a gentleman."

"Dear Alexandra, please do not make the same errors that I did. James need more light and laughter in his life. Like his father he is a good man but rather inclined to withdraw into a shell of smugness and pomposity. Don't allow him to do so or the marriage will be miserable for both of you."

Alexandra remembered how she had felt a fraud. James' mother, like everyone else, believed that this was to be a pairing made in love. That thought had so discomforted her that she had washed it away with another drink. She could remember that at some point both of them had decided that James needed to taken in hand and shown that there was more to life than rules and regulations. In fact they had made a toast to their endeavors to force James to smile more often.

She could recall having a set to with James about whether or not she should have a glass of wine with dinner and remembered with a smile that with Mrs. Norrington's assistance she had won that argument. Dinner was something of a blur but she thought something had been said about the size of a man's wig having something to do with his ability as a lover? No, she couldn't be recalling the comment accurately for that didn't make any sense at all. She did remember that whatever the comment had been she and Mrs. Norrington had found James' outraged expression incredibly amusing.

As hard as she tried, she could not bring back to mind anything after the cheese course. Her thoughts were interrupted by Abigail questioning, "Shall we wrap your ankle or do you think you can manage on it today?"

"My ankle?"

"Yes, miss. Last night, before he carried you to your room, the Commodore told Mr. Jensen how you had twisted it and could not walk on it. Mr. Jensen told me how tired and worn out you were. You poor thing. Dead asleep from the day's events. That's why I waited to awaken you. The Commodore suggested that I see if it required wrapping this morning."

Commodore James Norrington was thoroughly enjoying his morning and anticipating the hours to be spent in Alexandra's company. If she was in the same state as his mother, she was unlikely to remember all that occurred last night. He was counting on that when he'd put the fox in the henhouse with his suggestion to Abigail about the ankle wrap.

When they'd arrived at the house last night, Alexandra had been dead to world and curled up like a kitten next to him in the carriage. Since they'd argued about her ability to see herself home and she'd been on the verge of turning belligerent before falling asleep, he felt it safer to let her remain in slumber. She was still wearing the muddied and wrinkled dress, so in the interest of brevity he'd told Jensen that she'd twisted her ankle. It was an excuse that covered the whole of her unconventional arrival home.

Really who would have ever thought that two supposedly intelligent refined women could behave the way they had last night? They had put him through hell and some revenge was justified. Just how much revenge was to be had would be determined by how much Alexandra recalled of the evening's events. They'd both berated him for being a "stick in the mud" and "not having enough fun". Well he certainly intended to have some fun this morning. With a smile, he settled back to wait for Alexandra.