FALLEN LOW, LIFTED UP
After the disastrous dinner with James' parents we seem to move in different spheres, he and I. Moving through the week before the wedding is like moving through water. Each step is deliberate and heavy and done without thought. An empty feeling settles within me the night before the wedding. I have hurt James. I know it, and yet I do not feel the same cold satisfaction I used to receive from my acts of defiance, and at times, blatant cruelty. I simply feel nothing.
Months and months ago, perhaps even years, before this baby and that marriage dominated my world, I could hardly see past the imperturbable front that James wore daily in the presence of my father and myself. I do not remember now when that transformation from brotherly and affectionate James to stiff and formal Captain occurred. Somehow I think it had something to do with Will, but it is impossible for me to put it down to one incident. We simply grew apart, trapped in our own separate realms of existence.
Somehow in the trials of these last few months another transformation has occurred, and I cannot yet tell whether it is James who has changed, or whether the conversion has come from within me. Even now I do not know the extent of it. All I know is that despite my love for Wiliam the compassionate, albeit chivalrous, actions of this man, this Commodore James Norrington, are thawing my heart, and I do not know how to stop it.
The very thought of it sweeps a wave of panic through me, and in the darkness of my room I feel trapped like an animal. I sit up, drawing my knees to my chest, and hug them to me as though becoming smaller will somehow quell the nausea I feel bubbling up. My mother's wedding gown, slightly altered, is draped over the screen in the corner, and a sliver of moonlight causes the gold silk and the beading to twinkle.
The urge to cry, to scream, to rage grows within me, but I know they would be useless actions. I am powerless to stop what will happen tomorrow. A full year, three hundred and sixty five days from now I will be with William once more, and that thought comforts me. Despite my anxiety over what the next few hours and days will bring that thought, that hope, grounds me, and I am finally able to fall asleep.
Too soon, a bright stream of sunlight slips through a crack in the heavy curtains and shines directly into my eyes. I blink rapidly and sit up gingerly. My lower back aches, and I rub at it absent-mindedly before swinging my legs over the side of the bed. The clock on the wall tells me it is eight o'clock, two hours till the ceremony. At the sound of a light knocking on the door I open it, and Estrella bustles into the room carrying a breakfast tray.
"Estrella, I was just going down-" I say, but she cuts me off.
"You can't go down, dear," she says, pouring me tea and hastily buttering a piece of toast, "The Commodore is here eating breakfast with your father, and it's bad luck to see the bride before the wedding."
I snort derisively, and Estrella gives me a stern look.
"I think it's obvious that we've already had our share of bad luck," I say and turn to leave the room.
Estrella is quick, however, as she shuts the door with her foot, thrusting a teacup into my hands at the same time. Hot tea splatters onto the floor, but Estrella does not seem to notice as she sets to work unlacing the back of my wedding gown. She looks up once to hurry me along.
"Come on then, eat up," she says, "We haven't got all day. We've still got to pack your trunk to be sent over to the Commodore's before you even think about putting this dress on."
I swallow down the toast without any trouble, but the smell of the tea causes my stomach to twist unexpectantly, and I dump it into a potted plant by the door when Estrella isn't looking. Leaving the rest of the breakfast tray untouched I kneel down next to the bed and drag a large trunk out from under it. Without a word to Estrella I open my bureau and take out all of the gowns inside before stacking them one on top of the other within the trunk. For the next hour Estrella and I move around one another in a blur as I collect items around the room and put them in the trunk while she takes them out again to fold and rearrange them satisfactorily. Only when the room is devoid of everything except the furniture are we finished.
I push the lid down on the trunk and snap it shut before sitting down on it tiredly. Estrella picks up the wedding gown and holds it up, giving it one last look over before asking, "Ready then?"
"As ready as I will ever be," I say in a resigned voice.
The gown fits perfectly, and I am at least thankful for that small miracle. Sitting at my vanity, Estrella does my hair and places the veil as the final touch. I peek out at her from behind a thin film of lace, and her face crumples into a tearful smile.
"You look beautiful, my dear, like an angel."
"A fallen one," I whisper, choking back my own tears.
"An angel nonetheless," Estrella counters, and I do not have the spirit to argue any further. She places both hands on my shoulders, squeezing them gently, and I shift around in my seat to embrace her.
"I'm going to miss you terribly," I say quietly, "Whatever will I do without you?"
"You will do what you have always done, Miss," Estrella reassures me, stroking my hair, "and I am sure you will find the servants at the Commodore's to be most agreeable."
"That's not what I'm afraid of," I whisper, and we draw apart, Estrella's eyes searching mine.
"What is it then?"
"I'm afraid of losing you as a friend."
Estrella's lip trembles, and I can see the burst of pride and love she feels for me in her eyes, and I know the love I feel for her is reflected in my own eyes. She says nothing, but nods to acknowledge that she is afraid of the very same. She kisses my forehead, her hand lingering on my cheek to wipe away a stray tear.
"It's not as though you will never see me again," she offers to ease the pain of parting, "and besides you will have many other things to occupy your time."
Her eyes sweep down to my flattened abdomen, and my stomach tightens. For a few brief moments I had allowed myself to forget, to escape, but it was useless. There is no escaping this. The clock downstairs chimes a quarter till, and Estrella's eyes meet mine.
"It's time," she says, and I nod. I glance back into the vanity mirror one more time and am momentarily shocked by the terrified bride and mother-to-be looking back at me.
Authoress' Note: Once again, sorry for the long wait! School became quite annoying recently, and I've just gone on spring holiday. I hope I'll have time to get a few chapters up to tide you over for a while, as I think school, work, etc. will only become more tedious from now till May. Thanks for your reviews and patience! :) Also, I received a question some time ago about whether we will be seeing an appearance from Jack Sparrow. At this point, I'm afraid I hadn't planned on it. This is strictly a Norribeth fic (with some Willabeth on the side).