Thank you for your support and encouragement, I hope this meets to your liking. Things will gear up into the angst again soon, prepare yourself.
"I donna ken why I let the bloody oaf talk me into this scheme." For most likely the eightieth time that evening Ashlynne tugged at the sleeves of her ball gown—borrowed from Elizabeth and perhaps a bit too tight as a result, since the woman was like a scrawny swan in comparison to Ashlynne. "He should be the one in this getup and I should be the one lurkin' in the shadows. He's wittier at parties in any case."
Groves chuckled by her side, having patiently waited for her outside the cottage until she'd emerged, in a foul mood though looking far from disheveled. In fact, in Groves' opinion, Ashlynne had never looked quite so lovely as she did tonight. Her thick hair had somehow been tamed into submission in a high chignon, though of course tendrils of hair still fell down and swept across her neck and shoulders. The cream dress she wore had rich golden accents and both colors did her complexion justice, and brought out the spark of fire that was always present in her eyes.
"I don't think Parlan would look nearly as becoming in that dress as you do Ashlynne." Groves waited until she was finished with her adjustments before he took her hand and placed it back in the crook of his arm. "And perhaps you should watch that temper of yours since we're about to go inside." He felt her tighten her hold on his arm and patted it in return. "I promise not to leave your side as much as possible."
She smiled at him and nodded, "I ken that. I just am afraid of how many toes I will bruise before the night is o'er." She didn't add that she was also afraid of James and his inevitable attempt to dance with her. To have him hold her close, even if just for a song, would be trying on her already fragile nerves. For whatever reason this disguise and this mission seemed to be taking a rougher toll on her than previous ones—of course she knew it was because of James' involvement but she didn't exactly want to admit that to herself, at least not yet.
They stood just outside the governor's mansion and with Ashlynne's tug they paused. It was the same mansion she'd been in when she'd killed the Forester's all those years ago. It was again lit up for a jovial occasion, its architecture not having changed in the span of time since. Even outside they could hear the music and gaiety from within and that did nothing to ease her apprehension. If anything, knowing that within those walls were happy couples, knowing that within those walls was an unsuspecting James, this made her want to turn tail and run.
Ashlynne reached up and touched the pendant that rested against her chest, its weight heavier for a moment. If she wanted to be free of this curse she needed to brave this mansion, she needed to brave the possibility of facing James. With a deep breath she nodded to Groves and together they walked up the steps and into the buoyant ball.
Heated and fatigued, James discretely dabbed a handkerchief at his temples. He'd only just extracted himself from the crush of some of the more aggressive gentry ladies. His feet ached and the ball had only been going for about two hours; to think that the gentry ladies had already managed to dance him into a fatigued state had him worried. That he had yet to find time to actually speak to Miss Davenport, though he had been very aware of her presence in the mansion, also served as an irritant to his current humor; he'd taken note that it was his Lieutenant Groves that had escorted her hither and not her brother.
From the edge of the crowd, James drew himself to his full height and scanned the faces until at last he spotted her. She was standing near Elizabeth and Will, Groves at her side. He watched for a moment longer, taking in her quick smiles and laughter at something Will or Groves said, before he resolved himself to make his way to her. It was high time that he followed through with his interest and make it known to her. There was no reason why he should not pursue an opportunity to dance with her, perhaps even monopolize her time long enough to pinpoint the reasons why he felt such an affinity for her despite their brief acquaintance.
"Miss Davenport," he gave a courteous bow when he stopped just shy of her and her companions, "would you do me the honor of the next dance?"
He watched a myriad of emotions play across her face, taking particular note of the moment of apprehension that lit her eyes, before she settled on a polite smile and a returned bow. She extracted herself from her companions and placed her hand in his. She wore no gloves, which he found intriguing, and the feeling of her hand in his, with no barriers, had him feeling briefly like a school lad again. Was he really so far gone that something as simple as holding her hand would have him thus so, or had he finally reached the pinnacle lunacy?
His drove his thoughts from his mind and instead focused on his companion once they were situated on the dance floor. The band struck up a tune and he noted that it was an allemande; a lively dance and one that would give him ample opportunity to twirl her in and out of his arms while he in turn circled around her. He'd never been the best at dancing, more adequate than anything, but he was now grateful for the lessons he'd been forced to go through as it kept him from stumbling as he led Miss Davenport through the steps.
They'd danced in silence for the first few turns but finally he broke the silence once they'd found a mutual rhythm with the other dancers, "May I inquire after your brother, Miss Davenport?"
"He fell ill yesterday afternoon and was still not feeling himself this evening. Lieutenant Groves was kind enough to answer my brother's request to escort me here." She kept her gaze averted from his as much as possible and her voice sounded measured. "He sends his apologies of course, which I conveyed to Miss Elizabeth and Will Turner."
James nodded and waited until he'd twirled her in closer and then circled under their joined hands before he spoke again, "May I say Miss Davenport," he faced her again and as she too circled under their joined hands he reached out and boldly allowed his hand to rest against her circling waist, "that you look beautiful this evening." When she faced him again he saw that her cheeks were aflame with a blush and he no longer worried that his move had been too bold. To elicit that blush was worth any boldness.
"T-thank you Commodore Norrington." Her voice had a breathy quality to it now that almost immediately brought back the dream he'd had the night before. He faltered in his steps ever so slightly at the odd juxtaposition of having Miss Davenport in his arms, sounding much like his dream Ashlynne when she'd kissed him, but he recovered before she spoke again. "You are always so kind."
They continued the dance in silence a few moments longer until it was Miss Davenport who broke it, "I noticed that one of the naval ships in port has been refitted and that there has been an increase in activity down at the barracks."
"Yes," James nodded and paused until the twirl was over before he spoke again, "my men and I will leave by the end of the week. I am sure you heard of the escape of the pirate Jack Sparrow some time ago?" She nodded and it was she this time whose steps faltered for a moment. "My men and I will pursue Sparrow and once we catch him we will bring him back for trial."
The song ended and they pulled apart to applaud the musicians. James was loathed to return her to her companions and quickly glanced around the room for an excuse to keep her by his side. When he spotted the refreshment table near the doors that led to the balcony he smiled to himself and turned to his companion.
"Would you care for some refreshment Miss Davenport? I know I for one am parched." He hoped that he didn't sound too desperate for her company.
He watched her glance towards her companions before she turned her gaze back towards him and nodded, "That would be agreeable thank you."
She placed her hand in the crook of his arm and allowed him to lead the way through the crowd. After he gave her a glass of punch he maneuvered them until they stood beside the open doors, the fresh night air pouring in and offering some reprieve from the crush of the assembly. Neither spoke again for some time, James marveling at how he wanted to say much to her but having no words to start on that path, until James discovered that he'd finished his glass of punch and she hers. Before he could offer to get both of them some more she spoke up, her gaze fixed on the night just outside the doors.
"Do you think it wise to pursue such a man as Sparrow?" When he didn't immediately respond, unsure of what she meant by her question, she turned her gaze from the night to his face. "From what I heard, Sparrow had dealings with otherworldly, fantastical powers and that the man himself was cunning and a devil to catch."
James, at first surprised at her borderline coarse language, paused before he answered, "Whatever Sparrow may be, and whatever powers he may be associated with, he is still a pirate and therefore must meet with the same fate all pirates face. Unless he mends his ways and turns from his current path of mayhem I am afraid he will be on the receiving end of a hangman's necktie." When he saw her face pale he stumbled over an apology, "I'm sorry if my language offends Miss Davenport."
"Oh it is not that at all Commodore Norrington. You need not fear that your language will upset me. I have grown up in these waters and have heard my share of coarse language. I merely blanch at the thought that you would be so quick to reward a former ally with such cold judgment."
For a moment James was confused; where did she get the idea that Sparrow had been an ally? While, yes, in a fashion he had been instrumental in defeating Captain Barbarossa, he had never exactly been an ally. He stole a glance over at Elizabeth and Will and mentally sighed. Most likely the pair of young lovers had been spinning tales of Sparrow's finer qualities, eager to overlook his darker, truer, ones. Miss Davenport was under the naïve impression that a pirate should be rewarded with a blind eye when he uncharacteristically did the right thing. Had James not done so by allowing Sparrow a head start? While it had taken this long to repair the ship and refit it for seaworthiness and possible battle, he had not insisted upon speediness out of an honor bound instinct to repay Sparrow's actions in kind. But now duty had resurfaced and he had the piper to pay.
"Miss Davenport," James took her empty glass and placed it and his own on the tray of a passing servant, "I fear that you have been told tales of gallantry that are not befit the likes of Sparrow. Jack Sparrow is a cutthroat pirate who would sell his own mother if it meant saving his skin. While he was intricately involved in bringing down the former dread pirate Barbarossa, he too is a pirate. You must understand that once a man has chosen the life of piracy it is unlikely that he will ever seek redemption. In order to keep the peace and have the world operate on justice we must deal swiftly and harshly with such men."
He watched, fascinated, as anger lit up her face. There was no mistake; it was anger that she felt in response to his words. It only lasted a moment but he'd seen it none-the-less. Her eyes had brightened with a fire he'd known existed but had yet to see for himself and her cheeks had flushed a deeper crimson than the one he'd elicited moments before. Her hands had clenched around the fan dangling from her wrist and if he wasn't mistaken he may have heard the fan give ever so slightly from her tense grip on it.
"So you believe that there is no hope for pirates? That once a man or a woman has chosen piracy, or an equally duplicitous lifestyle, that they are doomed to meet the end of a rope? Is that not un-Christian, to believe that there can be no redemption for those men and women?" Her voice was strong and he thought he heard a strange lilt in it.
"Far be it for me to judge a man or woman's soul to eternal damnation, that is not what I am inferring Miss Davenport." He held up his hands to placate her ire. "What I meant was that the ease of lying and cheating, once a man or woman has tasted it, will not be easy to forego. There are precious few former pirates in the world who have not returned to that lifestyle and as a result met with their fate. We civilized few must be willing to take the necessary actions to ensure true justice rules or else all places will be as unruly and lawless as the Tortugas. I am sure you've heard of them?" At her nod he smiled, feeling that surely that fact alone would win her to his side in the argument. "May I ask why you fret so over the fates of pirates? Surely you understand the necessity of judgment against such characters."
She looked outside for a moment and he watched as the color receded from her cheeks and her breathing evened out once more. She was apparently well versed in controlling her temper, when she wanted to. It was not often that he met a woman so keen upon controlling her emotions and that she would only made her more intriguing. Just what was it about her that had him entranced so?
"I believe that in certain situations operating by 'civilized' means will only get a person dead." Her words, and the vehemence behind them, surprised him. He had no counterargument and so she continued. "Being uncompromising in all things, against all people, refusing to see other possibilities, or explore alternatives, will only bring about more upheaval. Not to mention loneliness." At the last remark her eyes, imploring in their brightness, fell on him and he found himself speechless. "I believe that a man, or woman, who is unwilling to bend, unwilling to listen, will end up alone and broken. Harsh winds blow through these islands, we've all lived through them, and you and I both know that it is the supple tree that survives, not the firm one."
"Too much bending makes these trees permanently curved though." He stepped closer, the conversation drawing him in, and moved his body until he blocked the crowd and it seemed that it was only the two of them standing by the balcony doors. "Do you not agree that with each compromise the incentive to maintain scruples and honor becomes less and less until you too are just as lawless as those you once compromised for?"
She also stepped closer and James could clearly see the flecks of amber in her eyes even in the lamplight, "I do believe that there should be a limit to compromising. There is truly a right and truly a wrong, but the unwillingness to understand why a wrong was committed, to be unwilling to listen to the reasons behind an act of piracy, well that I believe is just as wrong as the piracy itself."
James wondered just where her arguments were based, what had she lived through that she would feel so differently than the majority of the rest of the gentry of these parts. One could ask any landed gentry in the Caribbean and they would be quick to condemn a pirate, and most without the mock trials they often gave. Yet, here she stood, read to justify certain acts of piracy.
"Why would you be so willing to justify a pirate?" He found himself asking, his voice dipping down to almost a whisper.
He watched her react to his voice and proximity. For a moment she seemed to almost sway towards him, and in turn he nearly reached out to take hold of her, but the moment passed and she stood firm again, making James wonder if he'd imagined the whole episode.
"Let me ask you a question Commodore," the liltish quality was back and the fire too had returned to her eyes, "if you found yourself in a corner with no options and the life of someone you loved, someone ye respected or cared for, was in jeopardy would ye be willin' to do whate'er was necessary to ensure their survival?" The lilt was unmistakable by the end of her question and James felt something in his mind stir at the sound of it. "Think hard before you answer, Commodore. Picture this person in your mind, every detail. Then picture them in jeopardy and their survival is dependent upon ye alone. Would ye or would ye not be willin' to do whate'er was necessary to ensure their survival, even if it meant breakin' a few rules set upon ye by society?"
Before he could respond a passing group of attendees, laughing gaily, pressed close behind him and he had to lean forward even more to avoid them. This brought his face close to hers, much closer than was appropriate by society's standards. She did not blanch at his movements though, did not move away. Instead, he watched her gaze dart down to his lips then back up to meet his eyes again, her tongue darting out to lick her own lips. Her eyes, wide and unblinking, alight with life and with a pleading quality, dug into his soul and began to bring something to life that he had wanted to remain buried.
"Tell me Commodore," her voice was barely above a whisper and he found himself edging forward even more, until their toes were touching, and their bodies were just shy of each other, "because I want to ken if I am so far damned in yer eyes that I too will meet the end of hangman's rope."
His mind burst with activity at her winds and through the blinding confusion he stuttered, "Whatever do you mean?"
"If I had to resort to an act of piracy to ensure the survival of my family, if I had to compromise to make sure that my loved ones could endure, would I be ruined beyond hope?" The lilt was stronger and if he wasn't mistaken he saw unshed tears brighten her eyes further. "Would ye be unable to o'erlook my past sins and condemn me so mercilessly?"
A single tear did leak out and trailed down her cheek. James, entranced, reached out and gently brushed it away. She almost immediately leaned into his touch and instinctively he found himself cupping her face fully, marveling at the softness of her skin as he cradled the side of her face in his hand. She reached up with one of her hands and took hold of his wrist but she did not try to pull his hand away, she merely gripped his wrist, her gaze unwavering from his own. It was as if she was willing him to say something, he knew not what, that would end her pain. And she was in pain, he could clearly see that, and he somehow felt that he'd been the cause of her pain
It was surreal, the connection he felt towards this woman, the intimacy he already felt towards her. Her words jarred him, her pleas had him speechless, his mind a blur of memories and sensations. Images, long buried, came back to haunt him in an instant. Pain, the agony of losing Ashlynne, came back afresh in response to this woman's question. His own self-condemnation, long lurking in the shadows of his mind, leaped out to taunt him. In the face of this woman's bold questioning he found himself years younger, living afresh the pain of Ashlynne's betrayal.
He had never known her reasons, though he'd never had the chance to learn of them. Even if he had wanted to hear her side would he have been willing to hear her out without condemning her? He knew, without pausing, that at the time he would've not listened, he would've not heard her justifications. But now? James returned his focus to the woman partially in his arms and found himself in wonderment that yes, he would listen to her, that yes he would be willing to bend a few rules if it meant having Ashlynne by his side again.
That fact alone had him scared, worried that this was the beginning of a slide down the slippery path into lawlessness. He drew his hand away as if her touch burned him and he stepped back until the proper distance was between them again. He cleared his throat, momentarily wishing it was so easy to clear one's mind, before he spoke again.
"You are supposing, with your question, that pirates would act out on a sense of familial loyalty when the majority have no family's and barely hold their crews in high regard. You, Miss Davenport, need not suppose that I would condemn you, when it is highly unlikely that you will ever find yourself in such a position as you have relayed. I am also of the opinion that there is always an alternative, one that does not involve compromising honor and integrity. To think that the grey areas between right and wrong are justifiable in any sense is a dangerous thought, in my opinion." He watched her face cascade from one of hope to one devoid of emotion. Sensing that any desire to further their tête-à-tête was lost with his words he straightened himself to his full height. "Come, I will escort you back to your escort. I fear we have been absent long enough."
She did not speak to him again and merely gave a polite bow once he'd returned her to Groves and the others. As he walked away he felt a strange sinking sensation settle in the pit of his stomach, as if he'd overlooked an opportunity or something akin to that. When he glanced over his shoulder at her again he found that her eyes, saddened, were seeking out his. After a moment, though, they fell away and she turned to face her companions fully, shutting out James. He felt the movement in his body as if he'd been slapped, and he knew he'd deserved it.