Obligatory disclaimer: The Mouse owns all, save my own original characters.
"So. When did you leave England?"
The question momentarily blindsided Julia. She lowered her fork to her plate, metal clinking against metal, and locked eyes with the captain. There was no accusation in his expression, just interest. Knowing it was unladylike, but not caring, Julia bit her bottom lip as she considered her answer. Just how much did he know, if anything? And just how much was she willing to reveal?
"I have not thought of England for many years," she lied, suddenly feeling extremely homesick. "You make me… remember a life that I… left behind so many years ago. I… I left Cheshire twelve years ago. My family had arranged a marriage for me to a doctor in London and soon after the wedding, we set sail for Charles Towne so that my husband might… expand his practice." And get away from my reputation. Julia stopped, wondering if she should continue with her explanation.
Julia looked away from the captain, her eyes sweeping the room around her. The previous afternoon, she had huddled in the corner, praying the rosary, waiting for the pitching room to quiet. Now, Julia was finally able to get a good look at her surroundings. Whitewashed walls tacked with maps surrounded her and windows revealed waves kicked up in the wake of the ship.
But the captain was looking at her expectantly, his green eyes sparkling with curiosity. He wanted her to explain further, to continue with her story. Inventory of her environs would have to wait. Plastering a blinding smile on her face she continued. "I was young when I married – seventeen – and not yet comfortable with my husband when he told me that we were leaving the country. I asked nothing, but I did as he bid and several months later we were in America. I have never been back since leaving Mother England's shores." Not even to see my only sister married or to see the burial of my parents.
Captain Norrington took a sip of wine, contemplating his dinner guest. Sadness tightened the corners of her mouth and pulled at the corners of her eyes. There was more to the story than what Missus Ramage was telling. But it was her story to tell, so he would respect her boundaries. Norrington scratched an imaginary itch on his forehead, stalling for a proper response.
"I meant to tell you that I was sorry for your loss. You… it… seemed to burst out of you and then you… whirled away. I… I hope he left you in a… comfortable position." The words were not coming out right. The glass of wine looked at him beckoningly, daring him to down the liquor. "That came out very tactless. I just mean, if you have to suffer an unfathomable loss, I hope that you were able to focus on your grief and not other distractions. Now please, stop me before I stumble over my words any more. All these years at sea have caused me to forget how to string proper words together."
He looked so uncomfortable that Julia took pity on him and smiled. "I only told you because, at the time, I suppose I thought it a good idea. Now, I feel very foolish. But these waters and the thought of pirates… I… I just got to thinking of my poor husband and the death he suffered at the hands of such vile men. I cannot imagine it was either swift or painless. I found out last April, but I still wake up thinking I will see him beside me. Still see him come home for dinner after making his rounds doctoring. Truth be known, the mere thought of pirates makes me ill. I hope they all rot in Hell. Every single one of them. The only good pirate is a dead pirate!"
Norrington blanched and turned his head away, hoping that Missus Ramage failed to notice the color draining from his face. He rubbed his jaw in an attempt to look contemplative, but he was frantically trying to revive the color in his cheeks and cover the look of fear in his eyes. There is no way she could know. There is no way. How on earth could she learn such a fact? Relief flowed through his veins when Missus Ramage changed the subject.
"I wish to thank you, lest I forget later, for dinner this evening. The invitation was… unexpected, but much appreciated. I just wish there was some way I could extend such kindness. Maybe… maybe when we land at Charles Towne, you might like to dine at my home?" Julia quickly picked up her drinking goblet and took a quick gulp of wine, unsure of where the offer came from. "But, only if you want to," she quickly amended.
The heartfelt concern in her voice made Norrington smile ruefully. Turning back to his guest, his voice warm and genuine, the captain replied, "I would like that. In fact, I would like that very much. A home-cooked meal after many months at sea is certainly not going to be turned away. Especially if the company is as pleasant as yours. Now it is my turn to thank you. I… I have judged you incorrectly."
Knowing her cheeks were pink in embarrassment, Julia dropped her gaze down to her plate again and speared a forkful of fish. Chewing, she stared at her plate, overwhelmed by disbelief at her own boldness. Inviting a man to her house – what would her mother think! She sent you away, remember? You embarrassed the family and so they married you off to a man who would put up with your previous indiscretion. Having a man over for dinner pales in comparison to what you have done in the past.
But why the about-face in his treatment of her from the captain?
When she closed her eyes, Julia was back on the ship's main deck that morning. Leaning forward as she retrieved her fallen hairbrush, Captain Norrington had said, "Then I will see you at eight this evening," before retreating to his rooms. She had stared after him for many long minutes, bent forward with her hairbrush held just inches from the deck boards, as if uncomprehending. Even now, Julia wanted to ask why she was taking her meal in the captain's quarters, but she figured that such questions would be answered in good time.
It had been a long day leading up to the dinner; time seemed to run backwards. Julia had sat on deck for nearly an hour afterwards, rhythmically brushing her hair in automated strokes, digesting the turn of events of the past several days. And when she got tired of that, Julia went further back in time and contemplated the past several weeks. After such mental exercises, Julia found herself exhausted, so she collected herself and went about finding some breakfast in the galley, with the hopes of finding some oatmeal or the like that was weevil-free. However, as the days went by, more and more bugs appeared in the dry foodstuff, so Julia was expecting the worst.
After collecting her viands, with only a few weevils to sift out, Julia ensconced herself in her berth, pulling out her book and pretending to read. But after realizing she had not turned the page for over an hour, Julia tossed the book on the floor and opted to wile away the hours with a nap. Short of prowling around up on the main deck, there were no other options for Julia to consider. Besides, despite hearing that the first mate had received retribution for his actions, Julia had not seen him since their altercation and she had no idea if Mister Cobb was planning vengeance. He may be out of sight, but he was certainly not out of mind. Her time above deck had Julia armed with three knives on her person.
Julia woke up several hours later, surprised that she had slept for as long as she had, but grateful that she was more rested – and that several hours had passed. After a horrible night's sleep, Julia felt refreshed and more energetic. Which then translated into a bad case of nerves.
Limited to one dress that would be appropriate for a formal dinner, Julia had laid it on the bed and mentally ripped it apart and put it back together several times over before finally donning the garment. After adjusting and readjusting the dress for the best part of a quarter hour, Julia sighed in resignation that there was little else she could do to make the dress more presentable. She had sold the jewelry that should be paired with the accoutrement so as to book passage with the ship; there was nothing she could do about the lack of adornment across her décolleté. Placing her hand across her throat, Julia told herself that she was not as exposed as she felt.
Her hands trembled as she took handfuls of hair and began to artfully arrange the tresses on top of her head. Taking in deep, calming breaths, Julia began to let her mind wander to the evening ahead.
Why on earth would he want me to share his meal? What happened that caused him to want to change our rapport? I am so confused…
Shaking her head to scatter such thoughts, Julia once again looked at her reflection in the mirror, her hands behind her head as she frantically rearranged her hair. Julia had less than an hour until she was to sup with the captain and her hair was not cooperating. Pursing her lips and furrowing her brows, Julia shook the pins out of her hair yet again and decided to start over for a third time.
At ten of eight, a rap on the door, hesitant, interrupted her last minute corrections to her person. Startled, Julia instinctively went to the door, the complicated hairstyle she had been attempting forgotten as her hands slipped from her tresses and turned the handle. Before her stood little Matthew Wright, looking about as uncomfortable as anyone could ever be.
"The captain asked that I escort you to his quarters," he whispered.
Julia wet her lips in an attempt to hide a smile. The poor boy, probably no more than ten-years-old, refused to make eye contact with her. Instead, he fidgeted with his suspenders and stared at a knothole in a floorboard. In but a few short years, Julia knew that he would be breaking the hearts of girls in whatever town he ended up. In the meantime, it was all Julia could do to keep from hugging the boy and telling him that out of all he could be scared of, she was not one of those things.
"I shall be ready in just a moment. I just need to put my hair up. I shall not take long." At the look of terror crossing his face, Julia paused, then smiled cautiously, showing a dimple. "What is wrong?"
"Noth… Uhm… Nothing. It is just… It… The captain asked that I tell to wear your hair loose. If it would please you," he finished in a rush.
Julia took a step back into her room, not at all sure as to how she should react. This was just dinner, right? She had no intention of behaving as anything other than a lady, so Julia had intended on looking nothing less than elegant. And if her dress was mediocre at best, then she had intended on dressing her hair properly. I guess that my intentions took a different road than I have on my map.
Plastering a brilliant smile on her lips, Julia nodded her head in agreement. "Certainly. Then I am ready. Lead the way, if you will."
Taking his responsibility seriously, Matthew jutted his elbow out for Julia to place her hand. Letting the boy feel important, Julia made a production of taking a hold of his arm and letting him lead her out of her cabin. The boy even managed to muster the hint of a smile.
They took the steps in tandem and crossed the deck in silence. Evening was upon them as long shadows obscured much of the ship. Instead of distinct images, inky silhouettes of indecipherable figures surrounded them. Julia would never admit to anyone other than herself that, at that moment, she was grateful for the warm body of little Matthew Wright walking next to her.
At the captain's door, the duo halted. Matthew took a deep breath and then knocked on the door with his free hand. Julia held her breath as she waited for the door to open.
"Enter," was the response.
The captain was not going to answer the knock? Julia was mildly surprised.
Turning to face Julia, Matthew bowed at the waist. "I bid you good evening." He hesitated the briefest of moments, a genuine smile appeared upon his lips, but then disappeared just as swiftly. He then scurried back to the stairs and quickly disappeared below deck. Never feeling more vulnerable in her life, Julia took a hold of the handle, then, with a twist of her wrist, opened the door.
