Chapter 25 The end of Mr Norrington

"No Ship. " Jack muttered to himself as he stared out towards the empty bay and to the no less empty horizon visible between the headlands, "The ship's gone."
He turned to Elanor in a sudden fury,
"The bloody ship's gone!" even he was slightly taken aback by the level of the bellow he produced.
Elanor stared at him as if he were slightly demented, not a look he saw often on her face, unlike some others.
"Of course the ship's gone." She replied calmly, as if it was obvious to any sensible person that the ship would be gone.
Jack drew a deep and steadying breath then stalked across the shingle and stood in front of her, hands on hips, brows raised, the look on his face suggesting that only the most stringent deployment of self discipline was keeping his hand from his sword hilt,
"Why… is the bloody ship gone?" he demanded carefully.
Elanor's own brows rose,
"Because staying here would have been too risky. Don't you think? We've been gone nearly a month, it would have been very surprising if someone hadn't noticed a ship anchored out there all this time, and even more surprising if, having seen it, someone hadn't got drunk enough or curious enough, or most likely both, to try and take a closer look. Given that the crew of said ship would be nowhere to be seen. You would have done and so would I, why assume no one else would."
"Oh." Jack seemed to think about that for a moment and then he glared at her again, "Then it is coming back is it? Your ghost not abandoned us, Eh?"

She squinted up at him in surprise,
"You think I want to stay here?" she demanded incredulously.
That idea seemed to prick the bubble of his anger, and his posture eased a little, while the fire faded from his eyes as he thought about what she had just said,
"Ah, well…. no, suppose not."
A look of calculating curiosity replaced the anger of a moment before,
"So your ghost can sail the ship alone can she?"
Elanor met his look blandly,
"If I ask her to."
The slight but noticeable stress on the 'I' bought her a scowl before he tossed his head and ostentatiously returned to staring at the sea and sky.

After a moment of silent contemplation he stiffened again and half turned towards her,
"Why hasn't it come back? Today was the appointed day for leavin'."
Elanor threw a pebble in the direction of the shoreline, sending a crab scurrying away in haste,
"Because the driver might have thought it odd if he had been asked to leave us here with the ship already waiting out in the bay, but with no sign of a long boat being put to sea." She explained with elaborate patience.
"Oh," Jack gave that due consideration for a moment, glowering a little at her tone.
"When is the ship coming back?" he demanded eventually.
"Dusk."
"Dusk!" his voice rose again, "We have sit here until dusk!"
Elanor gave him an amused look,
"Well I told you there was no reason for us to leave the inn so early. We could have had lunch and still have the carriage bring us here and had it leave again in plenty of time."
She considered the pebble she had in her hand, deciding she liked the look of it,
"Might even have got in afternoon tea," she said as she slipped it into her coat.

Jack muttered something under his breath and swaggered off towards the water line with a disgusted shrug while Elanor watched him go with a mix of amusement, sadness and guilt. She had no problem in understanding why he was in so poor a mood this morning and it wasn't just the idea of a six hour wait in this lonely spot for the ship to return. No, Jack's mood was curdled by the fact that he was having to face up, most unexpectedly and reluctantly, to the strange and wayward behaviour of one Captain Jack Sparrow, and there was no way of hiding that he wasn't finding it easy.

XXX

They had arrived at the inn yesterday, pulling up at the door just as the last red rays of the sun were paling to pink and gold. Jack had been stiff and frowning by the time they arrived while Elanor had taken a silent oath that, if she found that she had to stay here, she was going to significantly accelerate the understanding of seat design and suspension systems in the carriage making industry.

She had sought their room while Jack had supervised the unloading of the luggage, his eyes never straying far from the wooden chest that contained the heart of William Turner; not resting, as Elizabeth hopefully still thought, in a cool stone monument but instead bundled amongst the various baskets and trunks that held Elanor's silks, hats and jewelry. Only deep caution, coupled with an even deeper understanding of human nature, had prevented him from carrying the larger trunk that contained it to their rooms himself.

When the maids and porters who ferried their chattels up the steep and worm eaten stairs had returned to their other duties they had checked on the chest, Jack only satisfied by the faint sound of the thing he persisted in referring to as 'thump thump' even though he knew very well what the real word was. Once satisfied he had made sure that it was swathed in enough fabric to prevent the contents being heard by anyone else. Though, as Elanor had commented, who was going to suspect that it held what it did, or to put their ear against it unless they already had reason to seek it. But he insisted that it was pushed well out of sight and reach even though they had no reason to suspect anyone was looking for it here, or the fact that they, and it, would be here for less than twenty four hours. When he was satisfied that the chest was safe enough for the moment they both washed as much as was possible and changed their dust and sweat stained clothes before descending the stairs to dinner. Elanor consoling herself with the fact this was very nearly the last time she would need to tie herself into these stupid skirts, Jack not sure whether to be sorry or glad that this would be almost his last chance to tie her into them.

Unlike their first visit they had not been alone in the dining parlour and after exchanging a single warning glance both slipped easily into their married role, neither of them quite willing to admit, even to themselves, just how easy that had become. The womanly reserve that Elanor needed to assume to hide her origin was no longer so difficult to adopt, and Jack buffered her from both curiosity and unwelcome advances almost without being aware that he was doing it. After a meal of grilled fish and roast chicken she had taken herself back up to their room, ostensibly to a book, while Jack had accepted port and the offer of a game of cards from the other occupants of the dinner table, a pair of merchants traveling down the coast, and a soldier on his way to a new posting some miles inland. Elanor had not objected to his remaining, and had taken her leave of them with some relief, retiring alone to their room to count down the hours that separated her and her aching body from the comforts of home.

That she had been left alone in this way was no surprise, for she had guessed that Jack wanted to reduce the amount of time they must spend in close proximity. While she didn't blame him for that she could only hope that his game of cards didn't lead him into carelessness and that he stayed in character and off the brandy; and that he restrained any desire he might feel to cheat. Though she rather suspected he was good enough at cards to win easily even when he played honestly. If she was frank with herself she was glad of the card game. It was a relief to be to have some time to think about the events of the past few weeks without a maid hovering or Jack prowling.

As she sat at the window she reflected that she was no closer to understanding the truth of how he felt about Elizabeth Turner than she had been when they came ashore, though now she wondered if Jack knew himself. It didn't matter however, not any longer, for she was now convinced that he would help the girl if she needed it, though she suspected it was more for the sake of the boy who had risked everything when he snatched him from the gallows, and mostly for the sake of the child yet to be born. While Elanor struggled to see Jack as the fatherly type she found it easier to believe in his sense of responsibility for the unborn scrap than she might once have given credence to. Weeks of Jonathon Norrington had shown her more about Jack than the pirate seemed to be aware, for she was sure that a man truly without understanding of the lure of family and respectability could not have played the part so well. If Gibbs was to be believed, and Elizabeth's stories of the charges laid against him at his intended hanging had backed him up on this, Jack had played the part of an honest man before and with similar success. While others, certainly Mrs. Turner, saw this as further evidence of a talent for duplicity, it made Elanor wonder about the man Jack Sparrow had once hoped to be. It also made her wonder about his own family, or rather his father, for she knew the signs of a difficult childhood when she saw them.

She had not needed Jonathon to teach her that the pirate was a many layered man, she had known that long before this trip, but his alter ego had made her wonder if, for all his slippery conduct and disregard for the moralities, he was less the dishonest man at his core than he would have you believe. She didn't find that hard to understand either, not having seen Tortuga.

Her eyes drifted across to the wardrobe that hid the chest, wondering for a moment if Jack had any suspicion of her own plans for it, she would have to keep a close watch on it until it was safe in the strong room just in case he did and objected. Elizabeth's letter still rested in Jack's pocket but it seemed that there was little chance of delivering it, where the Dutchman sailed they could not go, even if they wanted to, and no traveling soul could carry it for them. She turned her eyes back to world outside with a reflective sigh, 'William Turner where are you, what stars are you watching and what are you thinking?' she mused as she watched the stars brighten against the night sky. It seemed that the lad was doomed to ignorance and that he would find more than he perhaps bargained for when he next came ashore. Assuming he ever came ashore again. So far she had not tackled Jack on what he had meant when he postulated that Will might not sail ten years, nor did she mean to, not until the matter of Barbossa was settled. Which meant, she realised, that she had no immediate plans to abandon Captain Sparrow; so when had she decided that?

Elanor sighed and pressed her forehead to thick and greenish glass, she wished she could be sure that her reading of him was correct, that she knew who and what he really was, for it would make deciding how to deal with him so much easier. But making dealing with him easier was not what Jack was all about. Keeping you off guard and wondering was second nature to him, and it seemed unlikely that he would abandon a behaviour that had helped him to survive now. Not when enemies seemed to abound. Even so she knew that he had come close on more than one occasion these last weeks, which only went to show that she was right to avoid intimacy, however much a part of her mind might whisper that this was the only marriage she was ever likely to see and therefore it would be foolish to pass up the only wedding night she was ever likely to get. It had been a source of some satisfaction that her own libido had come up with that particular reason for relenting before Jack had tried it, though not much before.

One more night of temptation to get through then they would be back to separate bunks with walls and doors between them. Why was that not the relief it should have been? She was weakening and she knew it, Jack had behaved far more gently and considerately than she had expected and that very restraint had made her want him more than any amount of swagger or lewd suggestions could have done. Did he know that? She had been at sea too long and Jack/Jonathon was far too attractive to be easily ignored, not when she could feel the warmth of his skin just a finger's wander away every night.

It had been hard on both of them, though maybe Jack hadn't realised that, and everything had been against them, the habit of intimacy creeping up on them with the pretence of domesticity, as she had known it might. If the Pearl had been coming to meet them then she might have relented and given him his one night, for it was a beautiful night with summer promise on the air, and if they had been separating immediately then she could have convinced herself that she could easily set him at the required distance again. But it would be many days before they rendezvoused with the Black Pearl and those days would open them up to all the dangers she had warned Jack of in the coach.

She had obvious and recent evidence of how far down the road they might already have slipped.

Though he generally kept his distance when he woke she had woken first these last three mornings and had done so to find his arm around her, his hand gripping her gently but possessively and with a look of unusual contentment on his face. Contentment and not satisfaction, and therein lay the warning, and she knew it. She was not given to self delusion and she had admitted to herself as she had lain and watched him, pleased to see him so relaxed, that the feeling was too comfortable and natural to be safe. Instinct as much as training warned her that any sexual intimacy would not necessarily be casual, there could be little doubt that it would damage their carefully built relationship and that such harm was closer than either of them wanted to think about. While she might not be at risk from such contact she was more convinced than ever that Jack was more vulnerable than he would give credence to. Everything she knew of people told her that if he discovered just how far from his vision of untrammelled self he was in danger of slipping then his reaction would be to resort to further feats of callousness and recklessness to prove to them both that he was still the man he thought that he wanted to be.

Which might well get the pair of them killed, probably unpleasantly, given the next item on their agenda.

For the first time since they had collected Elizabeth she turned her mind to what was coming and, not for the first time, she wished she had even half an idea what manner of thing this Lucifer's Sword might be. The tenth of an idea come to that, for somehow she could not believe it might a sword wielded by the devil. Not even in this cockeyed world.

Outside that world had slid first into shadow and then into night without her noticing, but the sounds from below betrayed the hour. Elanor had lit the candles and let down her hair before it occurred to her that without the help of Elizabeth, or a maid, she couldn't undo the fastenings of her dress, not even with the aid of a knife. With a sigh she first rang the bell, then leaned over the banister and called for a maid but no one came, and outside her window she could hear the serving girls giggling with the stable lads, their minds a long way from the guests and their needs. 'While the cat's away' she though with a sigh, for she had already been told that the lady of the house was at her sister's house nursing her after a bout of some form of fever that this place seemed prone to, 'but that doesn't solve my problem.' Leaving the window she returned to the dressing table where she sat for several minutes staring into the candle flame and swearing, and then she had gone and laid down on the bed to wait for the maids to leave their flirting and come in doors.

She was still there, though now fast asleep, three hours later when Jack returned.

XXX

Jack had stood for a moment outside the door, one hand on the latch and a tightening in his gut. He knew that she had meant her words of earlier, and known as well that it would be far more dignified a course to take her at her word and behave as if she was of no more interest to him than the kitchen slavey he had seen feeding swill to the pigs as they arrived. He also knew that it was going to be difficult to achieve, 'You're Captain Jack Sparrow.' he told himself, 'tis not beyond you. Kept your hands to yourself on that spit when Barbossa marooned you with the governor's daughter didn't you, and you can do the same again can you not? Hell man you have been doing it for the past month! One more night, that's all.' With that thought he pushed open the door and went in to unexpected darkness and silence. His first reaction was to reach for a pistol, his second to damn to hell whoever it was that had caught her unaware and hampered by skirts, and then to curse himself for not being better on his guard.

But when he found her asleep, her head pillowed on her hand and her skirts spread around her, well it had taken every grain of control that he had, and a timely reminder to himself that she was navy and in a hostile world and had a knife strapped to her thigh, not to kiss her awake and then go on kissing her. She'd not protest if he did, his every instinct and sense of the female creature, as well as two decades of loving and leaving women of all kinds, from lady to tavern wench, whore to nun, had told him that, but something still held him back. Perhaps it was the fact that he was not a fool, and if man is to escape being a fool then he must have some elementary knowledge of himself, and maybe that part of him that was not a fool warned that something more than the goods were stirring at the sight of her.

Or maybe it was the uncomfortable knowledge that when he dreamed of bedding her, which he had no hesitation in admitting that he did, it was not of a quick tumble as such dreams usually were. When he dreamed of her it was on clean sheets, with the ship beneath them and the tang of salt on the air; worse still was the knowledge that the dreams went beyond the taking of bodily release, that he also dreamed of the pleasure of lying beside her and talking of places seen and people known, at ease with a woman who needed nothing explained to her.

That knowledge was what held him back, and the fear of what these new dreams might mean. Once, a week or more back, he had woken knowing that he had dreamed of playing chess with her by candle light, the image so strong that for a moment he believed it real and tried to recall when it had been that he had sat with her, laughing as she took a pawn, the lace on her wrap as white as the chess queen.

That morning he had understood that she had been right in what she said, they were skirting turbulent waters, and perhaps he did not have to look that far for the reason. He was a man back from death and little looked the same as once it had. He had tried to recapture his pre-dying carefree hedonism but it had proved to be not so easy, or so it seemed, and surely it should have been so with Beckett dead? But nothing was the same any more, and it wasn't just the changes wrought by the water of life for he had been aware of it that day he stood on the dock and watched the Pearl sail away again, the day he broke his pact of lies with Giselle and Scarlet. Maybe it was Elizabeth's killing of him or perhaps it would always have come, that a man could only go so long on a diet of bread and rum; that as the years passed so easy pleasures palled and became stale, at least unless the man in question was a block headed fool. Even the occasional dalliance with a bird of a different plumage could only hold back the other needs for so long, Morgan and Bartholomew had discovered that if the stories were right, even bloody Teague had, and perhaps he had reached it on the locker shore. Maybe even before that. Elizabeth Swann had reminded him of a man he used to be, of times when he had aspired to, dreamed of something more than casual couplings on flea ridden linen, and she had stirred memories of other wants and needs long put aside. But Miss Swann had been the governor's daughter and it would have been foolhardy to have risked it, not while there was any chance of a quick rescue. But he might have done so even then if the lass had not so openly despised him, and that had been as good as a bucket of cold water in the crotch, and the head, well… mostly it had, that and her innocence and her ignorance. No one had ever accused him of torture, nor yet of murder, and it would have been both had he answered the message in the maids eyes. Possibly his and most certainly hers, though he was not sure which had mattered the most any more.

But Elanor was a different matter; she had no reputation of that sort to lose and would never have wanted one. She needed no schooling in the bitter truths of the world either, for she already knew them. She might not be a pirate, though he wasn't so sure of that, but she had walked the same paths anyways, and been to the same places, though for different reasons, even to death. He doubted she was looking for love any more than he was, nor were they ever likely to find that oversold dream in each other's company, but she was beautiful and desirable this man woman, and more than that she was quick and strong and in no way soft for all her curves, and most definitely not a fool. She was like an amazon of the Mediterranean legends, brave and bold, a warrior with a true warrior's grace and generosity. He would always feel safer with her at his back yet he was beginning to see that encouraging her to stand there might destroy him.

But he couldn't do it without her and her ghost crewed ship, and it must be done. So she must stand at his back and he must take care not to get too close to this star come to earth if he was to avoid being burned up by the fire of her. And yet…

He was still standing and staring at her when she woke, 'no warning o'course' he thought bitterly, 'no chance to recollect me self,' one moment she was asleep and the next those wide sea green eyes were staring back at him.
"Take some time off Jack," she said softly her eyes never leaving his face. "There will be places even in a small port like this where you can go and relax."
"What do you mean by that?" he replied softly never breaking eye contact, and knowing all the time what she was saying.
Her look didn't change,
"You know every well, and I know that you know that I know it very well too."
He said nothing just watched her until she sighed and sat up rubbing her eyes,
"Tomorrow we go back to sea, set off on some damn fool goose chase from which might kill us all. I see no reason why you should deny yourself that pleasure." She looked back at him. "I do understand you know and I'll not think anything less of your for it. So go and find yourself the nearest brothel and forget who we are and what stalks us for a night."

He sat on the edge of the bed, his hand going to the silk of her skirt without him being aware of it,
"Anxious to get rid of me are you dearie? Got some bonny lad hidden in the chest?" he said softly, but he felt a sudden surge of something uncomfortable even as he said it.
"Hardly," she replied dryly, "that sort of company is less easy for me to find in your world. " She gave him a rueful smile, "though it would be no harder for me to find such services in my world than it would be for you."
He raised his brows at that,
"As you said luv, it's a different world."
"As I have had ample evidence in recent weeks."
He gave a half laugh and looked down at her spreading skirts, it was the blue one that he had always liked, the one that could have come from a fancy portrait and made her look even more like an angel.
"Suppose so. You've done well Elanor, fine lady you've made and never slipped a moment, though I know there were times when you wanted to shrivel a man with a look, aye, and times when your hand itched for a weapon. You gave Elizabeth a chance and it's up to her if she takes it now."

She was quiet for a moment then she leaned forward and put her hand over his,
"I know how difficult it has been for me, I can guess how difficult it has been for you, but it's as near over as damn it so I don't see why one of us shouldn't get some release from all the tension."
He looked at her hand for a moment longer then turned his own over and wrapped his fingers around hers,
"Why not the both of us then?" he replied softly.
"You know very well why not, and don't say you don't. I could see it in your face a moment ago."
He pursed his lips for a moment then looked at her with lurking devilry,
"Saw what you wanted to see perhaps," he taunted her gently.
She smiled back,
"No Jack I learned the folly of seeing what you want to see, not what is really there, a long time ago. I don't make that mistake any more, no more than you do."
His expression closed and she knew that he would not comment on this any further,
"Might think that so, but it doesn't mean that it is," was all he said with a shrug.

Elanor knew when to let it go and she did so now, pulling her hand away and rising to her knees, wobbling slightly on the uneven mattress.
"Unlace me then go find yourself some more accommodating company, there is still plenty of gold, and I promise that on this one occasion I will see that anything you might bring back with you is disposed of." She leaned forward and caught at his wrist, "just make sure you leave enough gold to salve my conscience if you leave anything behind you."
Jack drew a deep breath and she could not have said whether it was uncertainty or anger, but something told her it just might be the latter.
"Very keen for me to be gone, sure you haven't taken a fancy for a groom?" he said stiffly.
"No, I just think you deserve some reward for your efforts Jack."
He gave her a bright and false smile,
"Thank you kindly ma'am, most considerate of you to show such forbearance towards my weaknesses," his tone dripped acid.
Elanor just shook her head,
"Jack! Will you stop being difficult, I'm not impugning your honour, nor your status or strength or resolve or whatever else you feel I am disrespecting. I'd say it to any man in your position, even my maybe ancestor if he was sitting where you are."
"Think that makes it any better!" he said, the annoyance clear in his voice, "that you think all men fools who can be lead by the balls and tossed an amatory bone to keep them content?"

Elanor looked at him for a moment then the devil appeared in those angel eyes, she kept her mouth from curving with an effort that showed,
"Well…. Yes. I have met few who don't fit into that category. But why should you protest when you make such a big thing of your whoring, though from what I've seen and heard of you where that's concerned I've know admirals who beat you hands down."
"What! That's a slander."
"Is it really? Seems to me that you are remarkably constant for a punter."
"Punter?"
"Sorry, patron of what one of my favourite authors calls the ladies of negotiable affection."
"Constant?" he looked at her with suspicion.
"You know very well what I mean, always the same ones and you tend to know them by name and spend time with them."
"Do not!"
"Yes you do, that's why they slap you. We both know it. So unlace this bloody dress then go and add a new one to your list of surrogate wives."

For a moment she thought he was going to explode, before, with a visible effort, he took control of himself,
"I'd be seen, and it would blur the picture we have so carefully painted." He said with careful patience, "Would be foolish to ruin things at this late stage,"
He got to his feet and waved his hands to indicate that she should turn around. When she still stared at him without moving he took hold of her shoulders and gently turned her to that he could take hold of the lacing on the back of her dress.
"You can go out of the window," she said as he began to undo the ties. "I can change your hair a little and you could put on the kohl, in the dark no one would recognise you, if you think it is important that they don't."
"I do think it. Fine thing if I'm seen shinning up or down the wall, make folk wonder about ….us. The risk is too great Elanor, I'd not want anyone to realise I've been here, for then they might look for her here and we cannot afford that. Might cost a lot of lives that little interlude and who is to say that mine might not be one of them? Pleasure is not worth the price."

He stuck to that line for the next twenty minutes while she shed her gown behind the screen, washed and then pulled on her nightdress, and when she emerged it was to find him already undressed and in bed. He watched her in silence as she unfastened her hair and brushed it out, then as she crossed to the bed he turned back the coverlet for her before removing himself to his side of the bed and blowing out his candle,
"Sleep well' was his last remark before he apparently fell asleep, though she was sure he was awake as much of the night as she was.
Eventually she did sleep, only to wake at first light to find her head propped against his shoulder and his arm laid protectively, there was no other word for it, across her. As she moved her head slightly his arm tightened and he smiled in his sleep and muttered something she was determined she hadn't heard right. After a moment of enjoying the warmth and proximity she edged out from under his arm and slid out of the bed, glad that it ended today, for both their sakes. As she sat at the window and stared down as the sleepy maids head towards the pump she wished more than he would ever realise that he had made another choice the previous night.

XXX

Now as she watched him stand at the shore line, stiff and almost angry, looking for the ship that he knew would not be here for many hours, she knew that he was avoiding her and any comment on the matter she might chose to make. Elanor wondered just how much he was regretting that decision, because it was clear he hadn't yet managed to explain it to himself.