James Norrington, although he did not often exhibit symptoms of such a condition, was a horrible gossip. If there was any scandal within a five-mile radius, he had learned all the details by teatime, and was usually filling someone else in on the exploits of his absent neighbors and acquaintances. At present, nothing was happening anywhere. The young ladies of Port Royale were being abominably well-behaved, and no Gentlemen had set their affections on women of less social stature than people usually allowed.
He was very bored, which is why he decided to call on dear Mrs. Turner.
It was not that the Commodore wished to do Mrs. Turner any harm... Towards her he was perfectly cordial, and harbored only feelings of incredulity towards the people with whom she chose to have relationships (he could not, for the life of him, understand how anyone could even like William Turner). He merely wished for some form of occupation; perhaps a worsening in her condition to report to his tea companions, for although he wished the lady no harm, he could hardly resist the temptation of ruining her husband...
Under the pretext that he and Elizabeth were very dear friends, which was believable due to the evidence of his connections with her father, James did not knock when he reached the entry to the Turner residence. He simply entered with a hopeful salutation... which was not answered. So he proceeded to the drawing-room, where he found a sight that caused his eyebrows to lower, but the grave expression on his face did not at all match what he was feeling.
Elizabeth was sitting on the window-seat, entranced by a character directly across from her, who had taken his rest in an armchair. Captain Sparrow was, in turn, bewitched by Mrs. Turner. And they were just sitting there, staring at each other.
James was not a person to cause havoc, although his personality could be called vengeful. But as he stood in the doorway, watching the lovers who were watching each other, he could not help but feel that Mr. Will Turner deserved what was coming. After all, a man who encouraged a woman to disregard her word could not be called a man. At least, not a deserving man, and the more he thought these things the more James Norrington desperately wanted Jack Sparrow to succeed in capturing Elizabeth's heart. And perhaps, his thoughts continued, he should assist. Unite the two of them, and watch as Will Turner came to understand the kind of hell he put James, himself, through.
To have something so perfect and then lose it so suddently...
Bitter men are almost as dangerous as scorned women.
It barely took ten seconds for him to see that Sparrow and Elizabeth were having a bit of a communication problem, and although he could only guess what they had been discussing before he had arrived, James was quite sure that he knew what to do for the three of them to end up happily. If one thing could be said of Commodore Norrington, it was that he always had a plan -- and even if it wasn't particularly grand, it got the job done.
He cleared his throat, taking a little more time to carefully select his words. "I hate to interrupt... May I have a word with you in the other room, Mr. Sparrow?"
Sparrow, after another invitation from James, slowly drew his eyes away from Mrs. Turner with his brows raised. Surprise, of course, Norrington thought to himself with a smile, then added, for the Pirate's benefit: "I'm not here to arrest you, Mr. Sparrow; only to have a small discussion with you on the nature of your visit to Port Royale. We can keep to the corridor, if you like -- that way, Mrs. Turner shall be able to watch our every move."
Sparrow stood with a small nod to Mrs. Turner, and followed the Commodore out of the room and into the hall. The two of them stood there for a moment, gazing back to the woman they had just left by herself. Both of them feeling a supreme degree of pain.
"I'm afraid that I know why you are here, Mr. Sparrow," James said quietly, turning his head to better examine the man he was speaking to.
"Is that right?" replied Sparrow, eyes still on Elizabeth. James remembered when he had treated her in that manner: she a very important person who needed constant supervision. Attentiveness bordering on reverence...
"Yes," he sighed. "and I think you all the better for it."
"Need not do that," Sparrow muttered. "Can't make her happy, can I? Can't very well have her, either. Married woman, mate..."
James chuckled at this, both for the purpose of his plan and out of genuine amusement. "Trust me, sir," he said in a very wry tone, "No matter what the circumstance, never give up on her. You shall regret it as long as you live,"
There was a pause, and then a slightly panicked reply: "No, won't regret it... Plenty of other little wenches, y'know. Whole world full of 'em..."
"Yes," the Commodore agreed. "Yes, I'll give you that, Sparrow... But there are no 'little wenches', as you so poetically put it, that come near to being Elizabeth."
Jack Sparrow said nothing, and James took the opportunity to see himself out, satisfied that he had finally done something worthwhile. Now it was just a matter of time...
Meanwhile, Jack re-entered the drawing-room, many fuzzy thoughts whirring through his head. When he thought about it, he was positive that Norrington had been correct about Elizabeth being one of a kind. Like me, he told himself, a slight bit of wonder added to the tone of his considerations. There were dozens of girls in Tortuga, for example, but he was sure that none of them could ever replace Elizabeth... and he didn't even have her.
He did not sit down this time, but merely stood in front of Mrs. Turner, who was now very ill-looking and had a shocked expression on her pretty little face.
"What did Commodore Norrington want?" she asked, raising her eyes to Jack's face.
This was the moment, and the fact hit him hard. This was the moment to gather her up and take her far away, where he could have her all to himself... When one has always been the villain, the sudden duties of the hero seem horrifying.
Bloody stupid indecision...
"...Jack?"
"Never mind bloody Norrington," he replied. "You might want to get your things, luv -- we leave tomorrow night."
