Caleb stared a little uneasily at the figure of his commanding officer leaning against the moldy prison wall, and carefully avoided meeting the glistening green eyes.
"When did you realize it?" Wilde asked through the hollow silence.
Caleb gulped.
"Only - only a few minutes ago."
"Do you know how long I've been in this place?"
"N-no."
Wilde glared at him, still motionless against the wall.
"THREE BLOODY HOURS!!!" he hissed vehemently. Caleb jumped hastily back from the bars of the Captain's cell while Derk cowered beside him in heartily undisguised fright.
There was a long and uncomfortable silence as the sound of Wilde's voice reverberated away by the surrounding prison cells. Caleb glanced timorously up.
"Straighten up, you group of great lubbers, you," Wilde snapped at the group of his crew before him. Immediately they obeyed. "Hearts of lions, all of you," remarked the Captain in obvious disgust. "Now: if you please, I'd like to leave this place. Caleb, you hound; do the honors."
Caleb scowled in reply but did not fail to obey. The other crewmembers stepped back while their surrogate leader grasped the iron prison door in both his huge fists and lifted it clean off of its hinges.
Wilde stepped through the open doorway, still fuming.
"They'll be after us soon," he muttered, "Damn blasted Navy – if my plan is going to work, we have to do it now." Caleb puffed an assent as he turned to set the door down against the wall.
-------------------------------------
Elizabeth looked up and studied the profile of John Norrington, silhouetted against the afternoon sun. Her heart was still beating rapidly, though its speed had subsided considerably since her rescue from the clutches of the scoundrel Captain Wilde.
What an afternoon it had been. In all her years in Port Royal Elizabeth had never been so ignominiously affronted by anyone like she had been by Wilde. The shock was severe, and she doubted that it would disappear with speed.
Instinctively, she sighed.
All was silent as she walked quietly down the street, arm in arm with the Commodore and she didn't think it could possibly get more uncomfortable than it was now. Norrington walked straight and stiffly with his shoulders squared and his gait hinting at a march. Elizabeth clung delicately to him, appreciating his presence there for her in her distress, but also wishing desperately that it wasn't he who had come to her rescue.
Elizabeth had wished for everything to stay normal after she married Will, and in her naiveté she thought it would. Of course, as she had been constantly ruminating over for the last three years, it had not only changed but it had changed quite drastically. Now she was very poor, the ties between her and her father were all but obliterated, and her formerly abhorred ex-fiancé Norrington was not only married but also he had not spoken to her since his nuptials. Elizabeth suspected highly that his wife did not like her, maybe even detested her because the choices she had made. No sane person with wealth and security would have traded it for the life of a pauper and Mrs. Turner realized that she had done something of novelty to anyone within societal circles.
She could not place exactly why it was so unsettling to be around John now, but it just was.
Elizabeth lowered her eyes back to the ground.
Beside her Norrington felt her move and glanced down at her with concern.
"Are you all right?" he asked, his tone quavering with just a hint of hesitance. Elizabeth nodded, still resolutely evading his gaze.
A carriage was coming slowly up the road in their direction. As it rumbled up alongside them a woman leaned out. She was tall and very thin, with reams of dark hair falling in curls under an enormous feathered hat that succeeded in its own right in nearly eclipsing the wearer's face with its size. She might have been considered pretty, but was severely overdone, and her expression suggested that she was not perhaps the nicest person.
Elizabeth saw her and turned crimson down to the tips of her toes. As the carriage came to a halt, Elizabeth suddenly wished that the ground would gently open up and deposit her into a hole. The lady with the feathered hat was one of the last people on earth she would ever want to meet, especially in such an aggravated state as she was now.
Emma Forinney Norrington.
Emma blinked her almond eyes at her husband and then at the bashful Mrs. Turner beside him.
"John?" said Emma shrilly.
Norrington answered his wife. He felt Elizabeth's grip on his arm tighten considerably as Emma looked her over once more, and wished that he could assure her that she wasn't the only one who felt awkward.
Emma sat in a minute of stony silence before nodding curtly to Elizabeth and acknowledging her by name.
"Mrs. Turner," she said. Elizabeth cringed as the other woman pronounced her surname so snidely as if it was an insult.
Elizabeth raised her eyes to Emma Norrington's face with scornful enmity as her pride seared up.
"Mrs. Norrington," she replied, putting emphasis on every syllable. Emma's mouth twitched at the corner.
"John," she said, turning back to her husband. "I'm just off to tea at the Parker's. I shall not be gone long." She extended her hand out for her husband to kiss graciously. "Don't wait up darling."
Elizabeth felt like gagging, but Norrington smiled like a man who couldn't distinguish affection from depreciation and kissed his wife's hand before waving the carriage on. Emma nodded sullenly at Elizabeth and straightened her own gargantuan hat as her ride departed off to continue its journey to the Parkers.
Norrington watched her go, and then patted Elizabeth's hand as they began to walk. Since it was such an awkward event, he cleverly avoided talking about his wife or his marriage. Elizabeth felt this was all good and well for if he had begun on that topic she was sure she would have winded him without second thoughts. Norrington seemed to be aware of this so he retreated to a much safer revenue for discussion.
"You must be exhausted," he commented, "You've been through a great deal."
You have no idea, Elizabeth thought bitterly.
They entered onto the street where the Turners' home was stationed. At the door Elizabeth reached into her pocket for the key in order to go inside but Norrington stopped her.
"Elizabeth..."
She stared at him curiously. "Yes?"
All traces of the contented married man were gone from his face and with a slight shock Elizabeth saw the same old John Norrington that she remembered from her childhood. There was a little earnestness in his eyes as he took her hands.
"I know that since our respective marriages things have been quite different between us," the Commodore said, and Elizabeth smiled wanly.
"You've noticed," she replied. Norrington nodded.
"It was not how I had planned for it to be," he told her hastily as if the words had been lingering in his brain for a long time and were now popping synergistically to the surface. "Elizabeth, I loved you a great deal - nearly all the latter half of your life - and though naturally these past feelings must remain somewhat erroneous to our good-fellowship I would like to know that I haven't completely lost you even as a friend."
The words sounded so unnatural coming from the Commodore that Elizabeth was stricken momentarily dumb as she fought for an adequate reply.
"I-I," she stammered, and then sighed. "Yes: I've been a little removed for too long," she confessed, "And I do miss some of the little things about my old life." Elizabeth smiled sympathetically at Norrington and felt suddenly more grown up than ever as she said something she never would have expected to say to anyone.
"Dear Norrie; you mustn't put yourself at such unease. I am still your friend" (but not your wife's, she thought privately) "And I do not intend to ever stop being so."
Norrie - the term was endearing and if ever anyone had used it in her presence, before her marriage, at least, Elizabeth would have laughed her head off at him or her. Now, however, it seemed appropriate.
The Commodore didn't seem to mind. He bent down to kiss Elizabeth's hand tenderly, somewhat too tenderly. She had a brief revelation at that moment and wondered if there was still something besides friendship still left for her in Norrington's heart.
She pulled her hand away after he was finished.
"I must go now," she said hastily. "Thank you ever so much for coming to my rescue today. It was quite a frightening ordeal and I would have surely been kidnapped again if it hadn't been for your arrival on the scene."
Norrington smiled. "It was your maid who came and got me."
"Oh?" said Elizabeth. "I told her to run, but I expected her to run to the house and not to the Naval commanders. How very amusing."
"Well, I was walking along the market Square when she came by and when she told me about your predicament, and there were a few good soldiers standing idle at the corner stop so I made use of them."
"You arrived just in time," Elizabeth marveled.
"That is what we are for, Madame." He was still watching her with wistful eyes.
"Thank you," Elizabeth said again, "I really must tend to Henry now." She made a hasty curtsey and bid the Commodore farewell before fleeing inside.
Once she stood in the safety and silence of the white painted hall, Elizabeth leaned her head wearily back against the wall and closed her eyes. The euphoric pulsing of all her energy that had been slowly and gradually diminishing since her near-kidnap and her heartbeat was reduced to a dull rhythmic pounding in her ears. Suddenly she realized how tired she was.
Estrella, who had heard the door as her mistress entered, came bustling down the hall to her uttering cries of sympathy and distress as she went.
"Oh, ma'am! I am so thankful to see you safe!" she exclaimed as she clasped Elizabeth's weak hands in her own. "You must be exhausted!"
Elizabeth looked up at her. "I am that," she said. Estrella shook her head like a worried matron.
"You must rest," the maid chided. "Come; I'll get you some tea."
"What about Henry?" Elizabeth asked.
"The baby's fine ma'am, just fine. He's napping upstairs."
Elizabeth sighed. "In that case," she said, "I might follow his example. Yes, Estrella; a cup of tea would be delightful."
"When did you realize it?" Wilde asked through the hollow silence.
Caleb gulped.
"Only - only a few minutes ago."
"Do you know how long I've been in this place?"
"N-no."
Wilde glared at him, still motionless against the wall.
"THREE BLOODY HOURS!!!" he hissed vehemently. Caleb jumped hastily back from the bars of the Captain's cell while Derk cowered beside him in heartily undisguised fright.
There was a long and uncomfortable silence as the sound of Wilde's voice reverberated away by the surrounding prison cells. Caleb glanced timorously up.
"Straighten up, you group of great lubbers, you," Wilde snapped at the group of his crew before him. Immediately they obeyed. "Hearts of lions, all of you," remarked the Captain in obvious disgust. "Now: if you please, I'd like to leave this place. Caleb, you hound; do the honors."
Caleb scowled in reply but did not fail to obey. The other crewmembers stepped back while their surrogate leader grasped the iron prison door in both his huge fists and lifted it clean off of its hinges.
Wilde stepped through the open doorway, still fuming.
"They'll be after us soon," he muttered, "Damn blasted Navy – if my plan is going to work, we have to do it now." Caleb puffed an assent as he turned to set the door down against the wall.
-------------------------------------
Elizabeth looked up and studied the profile of John Norrington, silhouetted against the afternoon sun. Her heart was still beating rapidly, though its speed had subsided considerably since her rescue from the clutches of the scoundrel Captain Wilde.
What an afternoon it had been. In all her years in Port Royal Elizabeth had never been so ignominiously affronted by anyone like she had been by Wilde. The shock was severe, and she doubted that it would disappear with speed.
Instinctively, she sighed.
All was silent as she walked quietly down the street, arm in arm with the Commodore and she didn't think it could possibly get more uncomfortable than it was now. Norrington walked straight and stiffly with his shoulders squared and his gait hinting at a march. Elizabeth clung delicately to him, appreciating his presence there for her in her distress, but also wishing desperately that it wasn't he who had come to her rescue.
Elizabeth had wished for everything to stay normal after she married Will, and in her naiveté she thought it would. Of course, as she had been constantly ruminating over for the last three years, it had not only changed but it had changed quite drastically. Now she was very poor, the ties between her and her father were all but obliterated, and her formerly abhorred ex-fiancé Norrington was not only married but also he had not spoken to her since his nuptials. Elizabeth suspected highly that his wife did not like her, maybe even detested her because the choices she had made. No sane person with wealth and security would have traded it for the life of a pauper and Mrs. Turner realized that she had done something of novelty to anyone within societal circles.
She could not place exactly why it was so unsettling to be around John now, but it just was.
Elizabeth lowered her eyes back to the ground.
Beside her Norrington felt her move and glanced down at her with concern.
"Are you all right?" he asked, his tone quavering with just a hint of hesitance. Elizabeth nodded, still resolutely evading his gaze.
A carriage was coming slowly up the road in their direction. As it rumbled up alongside them a woman leaned out. She was tall and very thin, with reams of dark hair falling in curls under an enormous feathered hat that succeeded in its own right in nearly eclipsing the wearer's face with its size. She might have been considered pretty, but was severely overdone, and her expression suggested that she was not perhaps the nicest person.
Elizabeth saw her and turned crimson down to the tips of her toes. As the carriage came to a halt, Elizabeth suddenly wished that the ground would gently open up and deposit her into a hole. The lady with the feathered hat was one of the last people on earth she would ever want to meet, especially in such an aggravated state as she was now.
Emma Forinney Norrington.
Emma blinked her almond eyes at her husband and then at the bashful Mrs. Turner beside him.
"John?" said Emma shrilly.
Norrington answered his wife. He felt Elizabeth's grip on his arm tighten considerably as Emma looked her over once more, and wished that he could assure her that she wasn't the only one who felt awkward.
Emma sat in a minute of stony silence before nodding curtly to Elizabeth and acknowledging her by name.
"Mrs. Turner," she said. Elizabeth cringed as the other woman pronounced her surname so snidely as if it was an insult.
Elizabeth raised her eyes to Emma Norrington's face with scornful enmity as her pride seared up.
"Mrs. Norrington," she replied, putting emphasis on every syllable. Emma's mouth twitched at the corner.
"John," she said, turning back to her husband. "I'm just off to tea at the Parker's. I shall not be gone long." She extended her hand out for her husband to kiss graciously. "Don't wait up darling."
Elizabeth felt like gagging, but Norrington smiled like a man who couldn't distinguish affection from depreciation and kissed his wife's hand before waving the carriage on. Emma nodded sullenly at Elizabeth and straightened her own gargantuan hat as her ride departed off to continue its journey to the Parkers.
Norrington watched her go, and then patted Elizabeth's hand as they began to walk. Since it was such an awkward event, he cleverly avoided talking about his wife or his marriage. Elizabeth felt this was all good and well for if he had begun on that topic she was sure she would have winded him without second thoughts. Norrington seemed to be aware of this so he retreated to a much safer revenue for discussion.
"You must be exhausted," he commented, "You've been through a great deal."
You have no idea, Elizabeth thought bitterly.
They entered onto the street where the Turners' home was stationed. At the door Elizabeth reached into her pocket for the key in order to go inside but Norrington stopped her.
"Elizabeth..."
She stared at him curiously. "Yes?"
All traces of the contented married man were gone from his face and with a slight shock Elizabeth saw the same old John Norrington that she remembered from her childhood. There was a little earnestness in his eyes as he took her hands.
"I know that since our respective marriages things have been quite different between us," the Commodore said, and Elizabeth smiled wanly.
"You've noticed," she replied. Norrington nodded.
"It was not how I had planned for it to be," he told her hastily as if the words had been lingering in his brain for a long time and were now popping synergistically to the surface. "Elizabeth, I loved you a great deal - nearly all the latter half of your life - and though naturally these past feelings must remain somewhat erroneous to our good-fellowship I would like to know that I haven't completely lost you even as a friend."
The words sounded so unnatural coming from the Commodore that Elizabeth was stricken momentarily dumb as she fought for an adequate reply.
"I-I," she stammered, and then sighed. "Yes: I've been a little removed for too long," she confessed, "And I do miss some of the little things about my old life." Elizabeth smiled sympathetically at Norrington and felt suddenly more grown up than ever as she said something she never would have expected to say to anyone.
"Dear Norrie; you mustn't put yourself at such unease. I am still your friend" (but not your wife's, she thought privately) "And I do not intend to ever stop being so."
Norrie - the term was endearing and if ever anyone had used it in her presence, before her marriage, at least, Elizabeth would have laughed her head off at him or her. Now, however, it seemed appropriate.
The Commodore didn't seem to mind. He bent down to kiss Elizabeth's hand tenderly, somewhat too tenderly. She had a brief revelation at that moment and wondered if there was still something besides friendship still left for her in Norrington's heart.
She pulled her hand away after he was finished.
"I must go now," she said hastily. "Thank you ever so much for coming to my rescue today. It was quite a frightening ordeal and I would have surely been kidnapped again if it hadn't been for your arrival on the scene."
Norrington smiled. "It was your maid who came and got me."
"Oh?" said Elizabeth. "I told her to run, but I expected her to run to the house and not to the Naval commanders. How very amusing."
"Well, I was walking along the market Square when she came by and when she told me about your predicament, and there were a few good soldiers standing idle at the corner stop so I made use of them."
"You arrived just in time," Elizabeth marveled.
"That is what we are for, Madame." He was still watching her with wistful eyes.
"Thank you," Elizabeth said again, "I really must tend to Henry now." She made a hasty curtsey and bid the Commodore farewell before fleeing inside.
Once she stood in the safety and silence of the white painted hall, Elizabeth leaned her head wearily back against the wall and closed her eyes. The euphoric pulsing of all her energy that had been slowly and gradually diminishing since her near-kidnap and her heartbeat was reduced to a dull rhythmic pounding in her ears. Suddenly she realized how tired she was.
Estrella, who had heard the door as her mistress entered, came bustling down the hall to her uttering cries of sympathy and distress as she went.
"Oh, ma'am! I am so thankful to see you safe!" she exclaimed as she clasped Elizabeth's weak hands in her own. "You must be exhausted!"
Elizabeth looked up at her. "I am that," she said. Estrella shook her head like a worried matron.
"You must rest," the maid chided. "Come; I'll get you some tea."
"What about Henry?" Elizabeth asked.
"The baby's fine ma'am, just fine. He's napping upstairs."
Elizabeth sighed. "In that case," she said, "I might follow his example. Yes, Estrella; a cup of tea would be delightful."