A/N- As you have all noticed, I have changed the title. I had intended on incorporating something with the title 'Never Again,' but 'An Impossible Task' seemed to fit better. Sorry if there was any confusion. And as always, thanks for your reviews.
Chapter Seven
"The nerve!" Celeste was furiously unpacking her belongings, while Mrs. Pierson followed on her heels. Celeste was unaware of almost everything around her, so rather than being placed neatly, her clothes, necessaries, and such were thrown helter-skelter all over the room. Mrs. Pierson made an effort to tidy things up, but after a while the old maid made the conclusion that it was of absolutely no use.
"Cet homme est absurdement intolérable!" Celeste exclaimed in her native tongue as she tossed one of her dresses on the floor, "Et les hommes anglais se glorifient sur leur conscience de convenance. Bah ! Convenance mon ass. Cet homme n'est pas approprié du tout."
"Excuse me, Miss," Mrs. Pierson panted as she bent to retrieve the discarded dress, "But I don't understand a word of what you're saying. Could you speak in English please?"
Only then did Celeste remember that she was not alone in the room. Her pale cheeks turned a dark shade of pink. "Forgive me, Mrs. Pierson," she said hastily, "I am so used to speaking French that I often forget that I am no longer in Paris." She glowered as she continued. "I was only speaking of your infuriating master!"
"Mr. Norrington isn't quite so bad as you believe," the older woman said with evident fondness towards the man in her voice, "He is a good gentleman, to be sure."
"Gentleman!" Celeste shouted with indignation, "A gentleman, you say?! Ha! Forgive me, but I laugh at that remark. I witnessed nothing gentlemanly about him. Gentleman."
"Well, he did invite you to stay in his home," Mrs. Pierson remarked. She kept her eyes on the clothes that she was unpacking, but Celeste knew that had she looked up, she would have seen pure, unadulterated anger in her eyes. She stared at the maid. How could someone be so loyal and protecting of a man like Admiral Norrington?
"So he did," she finally admitted, "But, I apologize again, I did not mark him as a gentleman."
"You mustn't judge him so quickly, Miss Dubois," Mrs. Pierson continued, "True, he has a cold and unfeeling exterior, and it seems as though he would rather someone think him heartless than know his true self. But he is a good, kind man. He has always been good to us servants. Wonderfully kind."
Celeste 'hmmphed' in answer. Then she said, "Well, I have always prided myself in being a good judge of character, even on first impressions."
"Forgive me if I have been too bold, Miss," the head maid said as she put away a final item and moved to the door, "Goodnight."
Celeste thought as she looked at the closed door. Years ago, back in Paris, she would have backhanded any of her servants who had dared to argue with her. It was being too bold. But now, she hadn't even thought of reprimanding Mrs. Pierson, much less hitting her for her forwardness. She supposed that that was what living on the streets had done to her, one of the only good effects. It was difficult to imagine how horrid she must have been at times when she was still one of Paris's finest young ladies. She knew she had been terribly spoiled and always expected to have her way…. Well, things had certainly changed.
"Things would have been so different if Father hadn't died," she sighed sadly as she changed into her nightgown, "I would have a family of my own by now." She could see it oh so clearly. There she would be in her fine house in Paris with a young, good husband and maybe even a few children. Would she have been happy then? She sighed again. "I suppose I'll never really know." There was no way she would be able to return to the way of life she had experienced before. Now, she was part of the lower class, and it was much easier to move down the ladder than up.
Banishing the solemn thoughts from her mind, Celeste moved to her bed. She reached over to the small table beside the bed where she had laid her favorite book. Shakespeare's Twelfth Night was sitting beside the flickering candle, and she picked it up, cradling it lovingly in her arms. The novel had been one of the only ones out of her collection that she had been able to keep after being evicted from her home and having many of her belongings repossessed back in Paris.
After she had been taught to read, she had quickly advanced onto such things as Shakespeare's plays, and she thought he was a literary genius. She liked A Midsummer Night's Dream, The Merchant of Venice, The Taming of the Shrew, and Two Gentlemen of Verona, but Twelfth Night was by far her favorite. She loved the chaos that was produced by the separation of the twins, Viola and Sebastian, and Viola masquerading as a man. The struggles that the heroine went through made Celeste laugh and feel for her.
Celeste fondly stroked the worn leather cover, then opened it up to the first page of Act One, Scene One.
"If music be the food of love, play on…."
Knock. Knock. Knock.
The incessant tapping called Celeste from her sleep. She stretched with a groan and realized that she had fallen asleep reading. The awkward position in which she had spent the night had rewarded her with a sore neck and limbs. She groaned again.
"Miss Dubois?" came a deep, male, and utterly irritating voice from the other side of the door. Admiral Norrington.
"Yes, Admiral?" she said through gritted teeth. She didn't care what Mrs. Pierson said. The man was infuriating. He hadn't done anything precisely this morning… but she was sure he would.
"Breakfast has been prepared," he said after a moment, "A place will be set for you should you like to come down for some."
Celeste brought a hand to her stomach and rubbed it. Even though she had just eaten the night before, she felt that she needed to make up for all the decent meals she had lost since her family's downfall. "I will be down in a moment," she answered hurriedly as she jumped from the bed. She could already taste the warm breakfast.
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"You want me to turn down someone looking for a job when I just happen to need help around my shop?" The middle aged woman, a busy seamstress in Port Royal, looked at Will incredulously.
He nodded. "Precisely." A plan was formulating in his mind, and if he wanted to go through with that plan, it was dire that Celeste not find a job.
"Now, just why would I do that?"
"Mrs. Richards," Will said patiently, trying to persuade the seamstress without telling her the whole story. Then she would think he was daft. "Please, do this for me. It is important. Just, if a young, attractive, Frenchwoman comes in here seeking a job, tell her 'no.' I'm sure someone else would like to be your apprentice."
After much persuasion, not to mention some coin, Will finally obtained Mrs. Richards' compliance. Good, he thought, Now I just need to go and see how many other places are looking for help and speak to the owners. He wasn't sure if he should bypass all the taverns or not. Celeste seemed deadest against being a barmaid again, but would she prefer that to what he had in mind for her? Seeing the way she and James had interacted told him that she would. And he could not let that happen.
Before he had left Tia to go and find Norrington and complete the task that he was assigned he had asked her many questions, but he had saved the most important for last.
Just as he was about to push the boat off the dock, Will stopped. "Wait, Tia!" he called.
Tia Dalma turned back to him. "Yes, William Turner?"
"How will I know what woman is right for him?" he asked. That was the baffling question. What was he supposed to do? Walk up to some random woman and ask her if she would marry the former commodore? Maybe that would work, but… it seemed doubtful that that would be the best choice.
Tia smiled slyly. "When you find 'er," she said slowly, "You will know." Then she turned and walked away.
Will had still been baffled after that. How was he supposed to just know?! The suggestion was preposterous. He couldn't simply know if a woman was right for Norrington.
But when he had seen the Admiral and Celeste together… he had sensed a… chemistry. Yes, the only words they exchanged were stiff comments and insults, but something was there. Will could feel it. He knew that something more could bloom between James and Celeste. Now, whether she was the one that he was supposed to find… he could only hope.
James's new fiancée certainly posed a problem that he had not been expecting. Had Tia foreseen that? Probably, he concluded with a growl. That seemed like something she would do, command something of him and then not tell him the whole story. This mission just seemed to be getting more and more complicated. Things just did not seem like they would work well. The one woman who Will thought might be good for Norrington, hate him, and James didn't seem to like Celeste too much either. And James was getting married to Lady Maria Beckett.
Will shook his head. "Think positive," he said aloud. Then he resolved himself to getting to work. He still had many shops and taverns to visit before nightfall. He hoped Celeste didn't get to any of them before him… and he hoped he didn't run out of money.
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A/N- Please review!
Cet homme est absurdement intolérable- That man is preposterously intolerable!
Et les hommes anglais se glorifient sur leur conscience de convenance. Bah ! Convenance mon Ass. Cet homme n'est pas approprié du tout- And English men pride themselves on their consciousness of propriety. Bah! Propriety my ass. That man is not proper at all.
