((Monthly update time! Another round of thanks—perhaps eventually I'll stop saying thank you—for those who have been so enthusiastically supportive thus far. This is written entirely for you—and for myself considering I think Norrington got the shaft in the series and was not utilized enough.))
Bracing herself against the inevitable onslaught of accusations, hatred, and bitter questioning, Ashlynne squared her shoulders and walked towards Norrington and his men. If she waited where she was he'd most likely try to move past her to the end of the dock, and that was definitely not what she wanted. She had to buy the Desdemona, and Parlan with her,some time.
Moving forward she barely kept herself from crushing the remnants of her meager belongings in the valise that she held clutched in her fists; her will power could only do so much it seemed. She took note that Norrington did not approach her as if he knew her to be a pirate so perhaps he had yet to put together that part of the puzzle, despite what she'd confessed the night before. Perhaps he really did rely upon his sight so much that appearances were just THAT deceiving to him, bless his heart if that was true.
When he took off his hat and addressed her by her disguised name she knew that her assumption was true. Disappointment mixed with relief as she curtsied in return and flashed him a bright smile, "Pleasure seeing you here so early, Commodore." She placed herself squarely in front of him, blocking his view of the Desdemona.
"Miss Davenport, I must say that I'm surprised to see you here." He glanced down at her valise and frowned. "Are you traveling?"
"I had thought to, since I recently received bad news regarding the health of a family member," Ashlynne decided to take Theodore's route with telling not exactly a lie but also not exactly the truth, "however I decided to send my brother in my stead. It would do him well to be away from Port Royal for the time being; it seems that these parts bode ill for his health." Also fairly true; she was getting too good at telling half-truths it seemed.
Norrington continued to frown and this time did look past her towards the end of the dock and further from there to the Desdemona. "Your brother is well enough for sea travel? Was he not ill last night and unable to attend the ball?" His tone of voice began to deepen and Ashlynne got the feeling that he had started to form the first of many wrong, or perhaps right, assumptions. "Why did you not mention this ill family member last night?"
"When I arrived home my brother informed me of the news actually and as a result I slept nary a wink last night." She fanned herself a little, pretending to grow fatigued from the sun. Norrington noticed this and stepped to the side and gestured for her to join him in the shade of the harbor master's house.
As they moved down the dock he did lean over to one of his men and spoke quietly with him a moment or two, the man quickly hurrying off towards the harbor master, before Norrington joined her again . Inwardly cursing her ill luck, Ashlynne feigned a smile, "My brother felt immensely better this morning and while we had planned on traveling together to Jamaica, he felt it best that I remain here to safe guard our holdings in the smithy shop."
Norrington gave a distracted nod, his head tipped to the side in the way he'd oft do all those years ago when she studied him aboard the Dauntless. With that far off gaze and crease between his brows she'd known without having to ask that he was elsewhere in mind, desiring to soon follow with his body. At this moment in time Ashlynne could only assume that he was desperately piecing together what little details he had regarding the innkeeper's death, her own confession last night, and now Parlan's departure. From the sizeable frown creasing his face now, she figured he was drawing some rather nasty conclusions, that were most likely spot-on but she wasn't about to surrender that quickly or easily.
"Miss Davenport," Norrington shifted on his feet, leaning momentarily closer when a fishmonger wheeling a fresh barrel of morning catch went by, his eyes darting down the length of her face to her neck and back up again, "did you notice anything odd about your brother this morning?"
Ashlynne took to fanning herself again, though this time it was partly due to Norrington's proximity, "Odd? Well, he was still a bit peaky now that I think about it, wobbly about the legs and such, but aside from that no he did not seem overly odd."
The man Norrington had sent down to the harbor master returned and Norrington excused himself for a moment in order to talk with him. Ashlynne knew that the inevitable moment of action was drawing ever nearer. Looking past the crowds to the harbor itself she could see the Desdemona drawing up her anchor, the sails beginning to fall into place. When she looked back to Norrington her fanning stilled at the sight of his dark look.
She'd completely forgotten, and how could she, about Theodore's help. Most likely the harbor master had told Norrington about a naval officer's aid and his own supposed approval of Parlan's departure via the warrant Theodore had handed over. Ashlynne let out a long line of curses, in her mind of course, as Norrington finished speaking to his man and gestured for him and another to head back to the barracks, to find Theodore most likely.
When Norrington drew closer his frown had not been wiped clean of his face and his voice held not the same polite quality that it had before, "Miss Davenport, the harbor master mentioned that a naval officer, seemingly familiar with you, gave him a letter authorizing your brother's departure. I would have this man's name if you will."
"You must understand why he did it," Ashlynne dropped her fan and quickly leaned forward, her hands finding purchase in the folds of Norrington's coat, "he never actually disobeyed an order nor did he lie." She pulled herself forward until she stood so close that should she breathe in deep enough her chest would brush his.
She did not take pride in the way Norrington's jaw clenched, nor did she take pleasure in the darkening of his gaze as a result of her motions. If she had been doing this without a mask, without this subterfuge, then perhaps she would've allowed herself some pleasure in the moment. Now, however, was not the time or place. Ashlynne dropped her head and swayed forward until it rested against his chest, taking the time to breathe in deeply and let out a shuddering sigh. She felt him raise his arms and saw out of her peripheral vision the way his hands near flapped in the air around her, not quite knowing what to do in response to her desperate act.
"Of whom are you speaking Miss Davenport?" Despite his uncertainty in the physicality of the present situation his voice still held that same strength as before. No matter how distracted she proved physically she understood that mentally he was tenacious enough to surpass her diversions. "I believe I must be the judge as to whether or not this individual disobeyed orders or not."
Ashlynne tipped her head up and peered at Norrington's hardened features through teary eyes, "His wife's father was a friend of my own father and through that connection he and my brother and I were able to form an acquaintance." She sniffed a few times and watched with only slight amusement as Norrington retrieved a kerchief from his pocket and held it out to her, as if it alone would get her to stand apart from him as was socially proper. "When my brother told him of our aunt's illness and the severity of our current situation he felt honor bound to help us, given that our father had helped his wife's father some years back." She blew her nose, loudly, and saw out of the corner of her eye as Norrington recoiled as if struck by the noise. Ashlynne wiped her smile away from behind the kerchief and tried to hand it back; Norrington refused with a tentative smile. "He said that he'd come upon the paper after you left your office window open."
"Who," Norrington cleared his throat and attempted to step away from her when she leaned forward again; he only succeeded in backing into the wall of the harbor master's shack, "are you speaking of Miss Davenport?"
"Oh please," Ashlynne stepped closer, her hands again tangling themselves up into his coat, "don't punish him for his good heart. He only did it out of kindness. He is a loyal servant of His Majesty's Navy. He would much rather cut off his own arm than betray you." That was perhaps the first complete truth she'd told him through this whole ordeal thus far.
"Miss Davenport please comport yourself." Norrington reached up and laid his hands upon hers. She understood from his voice that he meant to push her away but it seemed that as soon as his hands touched her own, when the warmth of their flesh combined, he hesitated. She felt this hesitation in his touch and saw it in weakening of the edges of his frown. Instead of pulling her hands away from his coat and thus away from him, his fingers instead tightened and ever so softly his thumbs began a faltering stroking of the backs of her hands. "You must tell me," his voice softened to what it had been the night before when they'd been so close at the ball, "who is it that you are trying to protect."
Ashlynne felt a stab to her gut with his question. He most assuredly did not understand the gravity of his question, of how much it factored into their own tale of current woes. It had been out of protection for her family that she'd first come to this place, and thus met him. It had been out of protection for her family that she'd returned, risking meeting him again after her first death. It was now out of protection of her friend that she remained behind, soon to reap the consequences of all those sacrifices before.
"I," Ashlynne felt her resolve wavering, looking up into his pained expression, "I," he was just as haunted by the past as she and to continue this farce...
"Commodore!"
James felt Miss Davenport jerk in his grasp when his second lieutenant called out to him, rushing towards them from where he'd been at the barracks. James glanced down and frowned to himself when he saw that he still held Miss Davenport's hands. He took this opportunity to push them away from his coat and stepped around from where she'd basically had him pinned against the shack.
"What do you have to report?" James met the man only a pace away from Miss Davenport. She would most likely hear the report but at this point he got the distinct feeling that she knew much more than she let on.
"Sir, Lieutenant Groves is in your office awaiting reprimand. He confessed to retrieving one of your warrants and to willfully handing it over to the harbor master to ensure the departure of both Mister and Miss Davenport. He was taken aback, sir, when I told him that Miss Davenport remained here in the harbor whilst her brother," the second-lieutenant looked down the dock and out into the harbor, drawing James' gaze with him, "was currently sailing out on the Desdemona."
The Desdemona was currently edging around the corner of the harbor, too far out to signal, though with a fast enough ship he would be able to catch up to her, should he need to. When he looked back to Miss Davenport, from the resigned look upon her face, he had a sinking feeling that he need not attempt a race after the Desdemona. Even if Mister Davenport was the culprit to the murder or thievery of last night, Miss Davenport was right in the thick of it. Through her he would glean the heart of the matter, he understood this well enough.
He felt his gut tighten. The respect he'd had for her, the esteem he'd put upon her, began to darken. It was because of her and her brother that an honorable officer under his command had defied orders and now faced court martial, as that was most assuredly what he would have to do. Groves had known well what he would face had he been caught and now he was willingly facing military prison and a dishonorable discharge, and all for this woman and her brother. A distant acquaintance through his wife was certainly not enough, at least not in James' mind, for Groves to commit such a crime. No, there was something stronger linking them.
"Miss Davenport," James moved closer and waited until her now tired looking gaze returned to his face before he continued, "it seems that the next portion of our conversation would best be conducted in my office at the barracks."
Miss Davenport gave a weary nod and slight smile. He did not offer his arm to her as he might have before and instead gestured for her to precede him up the dock. She might've taken notice of his new distance as the weary aura about her deepened with each step they collectively took. She seemed to grasp the gravity of the situation, which was a testament to her intellect, and as much as it begrudged him to do so, he did admire her gumption in the face of such misfortune.
When they entered his office he carefully observed the way Groves stood and took a step towards Miss Davenport, the way in which she shook her head and motioned for him to stay where he'd been. James frowned as he circled around his desk and sat down, motioning for both Groves and Miss Davenport to do so as well. He nodded to his second-lieutenant and waited until the man stepped outside before he broke the tense silence.
"Before either of you attempts to offer up more falsehoods may I remind you of the eternal penalty of lying?" He looked heavenward for a moment then leveled his gaze upon first Groves then Miss Davenport, "Next I feel I must remind my lieutenant here of the penalty for artifice whilst under direct orders in the king's navy." James held up his hand when it appeared that Miss Davenport would speak up. "It does not matter what the cause was, or what supposedly justifiable reason behind his action was, the facts are plain here, Miss Davenport. Lieutenant Groves defied a direct order and committed artifice in order to smuggle out a possible suspect in a current murder investigation." Miss Davenport's mouth dropped open and James nodded in the face of her indignation. "Yes, Miss Davenport, your brother is suspect in the murder that was committed last night. I made it quite clear that anyone who attempted to leave the harbor with a recent knife wound was to be reported directly to me. While your brother was not reported to having a knife wound, the harbor master did report that he looked weak and that you yourself had to help him into the boat to the Desdemona."
"But he-"
"Miss Davenport," James clenched his teeth to keep from yelling as he suddenly wished to at the sound of her pleading voice, "there are prison sentences for those accused and convicted of aiding and imbedding known criminals. Should your brother indeed be the man to commit such an atrocious act as murder and thievery as what occurred last night at the inn then you will undoubtedly be called before a court to answer for this crime." His leaned forward and placed his arms atop his desk, "Do you understand the gravity of this situation, Miss Davenport?" At her quiet, reticent response he assumed that she did. "Do you understand what trouble you and your brother have caused my lieutenant? Do you not feel ashamed for using him so unjustly, for ruining his future career and thus damning he and his wife to destitution?"
Before Miss Davenport could respond Groves shifted in his seat, "I must protest sir. Neither she nor her brother knew of my actions before I completed them at the dock. She even stated that I should not aid her."
"The right to protest, Lieutenant Groves, was forfeited the moment you chose criminal actions over duty."
There was a fluttering by the window. For a moment all occupants were distracted by a near sickly looking parrot which perched momentarily on the sill of the window, squawking some gibberish about dead men and tales before flying away as quickly as it appeared. James shook his head and turned his attention back to the two in front of him. He noticed a slight change in Miss Davenport's demeanor and wondered if it had been the reminder of death, via a parrot, that had her shaken up, or his own insistence upon Groves' criminality.
"What is to happen now?" her voice was low and again he heard an almost lilt in it, much like he had a time or two the night before.
James leaned back in his chair and sighed, "Lieutenant Groves will stand before a tribunal of military officers to face down the charges of artifice and direct defiance of orders. You, Miss Davenport, will remain for further questioning regarding your brother's possible involvement of the crime last night. For the duration of this time you will consider yourself under house arrest and following this time of questioning there will be a court session to determine your own guilt or innocence in these matters." It sounded so clean, matter-of-fact, but James felt a strange sense of shame at having to say these words. The law was clear, but the reasoning's for things, as Miss Davenport had decried the night before, could they not sometimes defy the law?
"I'm afraid that will nay be acceptable Commodore."
James looked up from where his eyes had momentarily fallen to his desk and found himself staring down the barrel of a pistol held tightly in the delicate hands of Miss Davenport.