Hello everyone. After almost a year, I am back. I enjoyed writing my LOTR fic so much that I decided it was time for another.
I know nothing too exciting happens in this first chapter, but I promise that we will meet all our favorites very soon.
Feel free to review or email me.
I want to thank Mercury for reprising her role as beta for me. She has such a talent.
I hope you enjoy, Mary.
Chapter One: Starting Over
"Mrs. Campbell, your husband is dead." The words seemed to echo in her head as if in a dream. It took her a moment to understand what he was saying.
Rachel looked back to the portly lawyer with the ill-fitting wig, clearly confused by what he'd just said. Her sister-in-law, standing near the door began to wail, holding a kerchief to her face, and was escorted out of the room by one of the servants.
The portly lawyer, Mr. Fox by name, continued. Rachel thought it odd that a man who resembled a frog so strongly would have such an ill-fitting name. One would think he'd be a thin, sly looking creature. Instead, he looked as dense as a cow. He moved towards her, bringing her back to the present situation.
"The wreckage of his ship was found in the waters of the West Indies. The body was recovered, taken to Tortuga, identified, and properly buried. It appears the ship was brought down by pirates," he said with a sigh as if bored. "The thieves were kind enough to leave this on his person." The man stuffed his thick fingers into his pocket and pulled out a gold pocket watch, laying it in Rachel's lap. "I kept it in case it held some sentimental value for you, Madam." He paused a moment and continued on, setting some papers on the heavy mahogany desk. "I will leave these documents pertaining to the land in Jamaica and all interests he holds in the shipping line. You can look through them at your leisure, Sir," he said with a nod to the greying haired man standing behind Rachel, a hand on her shoulder.
"If you have any questions, don't hesitate to call on me. Good day, Sir, Madam. Again, I am sorry for your loss." The frog-faced lawyer bowed slightly. With that he left, closing the door to the study behind him.
Rachel stared at the gold watch in her lap, not daring to touch it. All too clearly she could see the engraved initials of Henry Thomas Campbell. She pushed aside the memories, refusing to think about them now, and grasped the watch in her hand, letting the cold presence of it be a solid reminder of what she had lost.
"I must see to the children," she whispered hoarsely, but before she could stand the man beside her knelt down, taking her hands in his.
Jeremy Campbell was in his late forties, and even with his greying, light brown hair, he greatly resembled his brother, the late Henry Campbell. The only difference being that his eyes held the impression of maturity, a sense of satisfaction that Henry's never did. Henry's golden eyes were always searching, always hungry for a new adventure – a hunger that led to his death.
"Rachel, are you all right?" he asked softly.
"I need to go," Rachel said, brushing him aside and standing. "I need to see to the children."
Jeremy stood. "Rachel, the children are with Costanza upstairs. You need to talk to me."
Rachel stopped. "No. Henry is dead. I will no longer be a burden to you."
"Rachel, you are not a burden," Jeremy appealed to her, but she refused to listen.
"Jeremy, please," she whispered, tears on the verge of falling, her normally daring spirit ready to break. "I can't do this now. You must let me go."
Rachel woke with a gasp, warm humid air surrounding her. Standing, hoping to rid herself of the disturbing memories that haunted her, Rachel went to the small basin on the dresser and splashed her face with the cool water. She could hear voices outside her cabin and above on deck. She dried her face, realizing that the ship was no longer moving. They must have reached shore during the night. She knocked on the door of the cabin adjoining hers. When there was no answer, she assumed that Costanza had already taken the children to the deck of the ship so they could see Port Royal.
She quickly dressed, doing her best to fasten the stays of her corset by herself, and pulled on a light yellow sundress. Doing what best she could with her light auburn hair, she pulled it back in a ribbon. She smiled at the thought of what the women in London would think if they saw her now looking quite the proper heathen, and went on deck.
It had been six months since she had received new that her husband had died. She'd handled his affairs quickly, selling their London townhouse and deciding to pick up what was left of their family and move to the small plantation her husband had acquired outside of Port Royal in Jamaica.
Her departure from London society had been somewhat scandalous. The Campbell family, firmly routed in the land owning gentry had always been a pillar of modest decency until the youngest son decided that what life lacked adventure. He decided to try the shipping trade. Henry Campbell instantly became the talk of London. When he then brought home Rachel Talbott, a young woman with no fortune, or status, the tongues wagged once more.
Thankfully, with the romantic and heroic status of her husband, Rachel entered society as a celebrity of sorts. Not surprisingly, her main opponents were within Henry's family. While his older brother Jeremy adored her, his sister Lillian thought Rachel a gold-digger, only after the family's fortune. After Henry's death, Rachel dispelled that rumour by leaving the country, but once again the gossip mills were running.
They painted Rachel as a poor, grieving widow, heartbroken to the point of despair. They said she couldn't stand the thought of being apart from him and so she left to be near his grave. Little did they know that after paying off Henry's gambling debts with the sell of the town house, Jamaica had been her only choice. She refused to beg for charity from her in-laws.
Rachel had loved her husband dearly. She had given him two beautiful children and had dreams of more. Unfortunately, their marriage was a far from a fairy-tale. Rachel had learned early on in their marriage that Henry was never faithful to her. It was simply something she'd learned to overlook. Jeremy had in fact taken his brother to the carpet on more than one occasion for flaunting his mistress about town. Even with his death she couldn't escape his infidelities. The gold watch they had recovered from his body had been a gift from one of his lovers.
Rachel wanted to start anew, to create a new life for herself, and the best place to do that, for some reason even she didn't understand, seemed to be in the Caribbean. There was only one part of the equation that was an unknown, the only factor that gave her a moment's pause. What was her husband's reputation in Port Royal?
She knew the way men behaved. She also knew that the largest port city was renowned for its loose morals. Had her late husband been a leader in that world, or had he kept himself to his ships, playing the saint while in port? Either way, Rachel knew she would have to be strong in order to survive this new undertaking, which is precisely what she intended to do. There were no other options.
She saw Costanza and the children across the deck and waved to them cheerfully as they rushed towards her. Megan, who was four, was the first to reach her, followed by seven-year-old Samuel brandishing a wooden pistol.
"Why didn't you wake me?" Rachel asked, giving Megan a quick swat on the behind as the girl giggled and hid behind her mother's skirt.
"Connie said you needed you rest," Samuel piped in, holstering his pistol in his waistband.
"I'm sorry madam, but the children were up so early, I thought it best if we let you sleep," Costanza said, her Spanish accent comforting.
"Mamma," Megan said, pulling on her mother's hand. "Samuel said there were pirates in Port Royal. Is that true?"
Rachel gave Costanza look of concern, but smiled down at her daughter and kissed her pink cheeks, laughing. "There are no pirates here you silly girl." She moved the children towards the front of the ship, somehow her laughter sounding very hollow.
Duty. Honor. Responsibility. Those were the words that Commodore James Norrington lived by. Only once had he strayed from those pursuits, simply because he had known at the time that it was the right thing to do. He had allowed the infamous Captain Jack Sparrow escape. The decision still bothered him. Some days he knew that he'd made the best choice. The thieving pirate had after all helped rescue the governor's daughter, someone he'd cared very deeply for…in his own stoic way.
There were other days when he regretted the decision he'd made and would like nothing more than to see the same, notorious Jacks Sparrow at the end of a hangman's noose. It was then that a slight curve would appear at the ends of his mouth and a glint of vengeful pleasure would appear in his eyes. After a year and a half, he'd tried to put those thoughts behind him. Elizabeth and William Turner were happily wed, James had immersed himself in his duties to the crown, and Jack Sparrow had not been seen or heard from. James only hoped it stayed that way.
He made his way to the front of Fort James. The port had been fairly calm as of late. Of course there were the normal trouble makers he had his soldiers keeping an on, but other than a ship fire, some stolen goods, and a vessel caught smuggling tobacco, things had been relatively quiet. But something was coming. He could feel it.
It wasn't that he had been informed of trouble brewing, he kept himself informed on all the ships in Port Royal so that nothing would slip past his notice. This was something different, something he couldn't pinpoint, an odd sensation that made the hair on the back of his neck stand on end. Which is one reason he wanted to visit the docks this morning.
He walked towards the north docks and met a bustling crown that seemed to be coming and going in all directions. Two three-masted ships were letting off passengers, one cargo vessel was unloading its wares, and another setting to depart. He was surveying the chaos when something, or someone, very small ran into his legs nearly knocking him off his feet.
Norrington balanced himself and looked down at his feet somewhat perturbed. To his surprise, there were two children knocked to the ground, both looking up at him wide-eyed. The youngest, a little girl, with a head full of strawberry curls, looked as if she was about to cry. Not wanting that to happen, James peered through the crowd, hoping to find someone these small beings belonged to. Not seeing anyone remotely interested in the pair, he looked back down to the child who promptly burst into tears.
James sighed, a mixture of guilt and annoyance. "Please don't cry," he said stiffly. The little boy moved to his sister's side, and helped her to her feet, but she continued to bawl. Uncertain of what to do, Norrington searched for one of his men to take over the situation. There was no one. "Is this your sister?" James asked the boy.
"Yes," he replied, standing, pulling a child-sized wooden pistol from his waistband. "You made her cry, sir. I demand satisfaction."
James looked at the boy incredulously "You mean to challenge me to a duel?" he couldn't help but let a small smile cross his face at the child's audacity. "What is your name?" he asked.
The boy straightened his back and looked up at the Commodore sternly. "Samuel Campbell of London, sir."
"Well, Samuel Campbell of London, where are you parents? Perhaps we should find them and ask permission for you to fight me?"
"My father is dead, sir. There is no one for me to answer to."
Norrington laughed out loud as a voice in the nearby crowd caught his attention.
"Samuel! Megan!" A woman rushed towards them, paying no heed to those around her. She fell to her knees in front of the children, hugging them tightly, smothering both of their faces with kisses. "I thought I lost you," she cried. Looking at Samuel, she took hold of his arm. "Why did you leave my side?" relief and frustration in her voice.
Samuel looked at his mother sheepishly. "We were running from the pirates."
"Samuel," Rachel said, exasperated. "You must stop this nonsense about pirates. You are frightening your sister." She turned her attention to Megan's dirty dress. "Look at the two of you."
"I can assure you that if a single pirate sets foot in Port Royal, I will know about it."
For the first time, Rachel looked up at the tall man standing in front of her. She stood and blushed; embarrassed that she had failed to notice him before. She stared at him, speechless. He was so regal looking, so serious, from his neatly powdered wig, his firm expression, to his polished boots. She had never seen anything quite like him before.
"It appears your son has called me out, madam," James said with bemusement, looking down at the boy not appearing quite as brave as before.
Horrified, Rachel paled. "I am so sorry my lord…"
Norrington stopped her. "I can assure you he was only looking after his sister's honor." James smiled slightly and looked at the woman for the first time. She was lovely, like a woman one would see in a portrait that mesmerized. He was not one to find himself besotted by women. He was normally able to keep a level head around the fairer sex, but for some reason the only thing he could think of was that she was a widow. The boy had said so. She was petite with creamy white skin not yet kissed by the Caribbean sun, and the pale yellow dress she wore accentuated her slim figure. Her dainty lace hat shaded her face so that he could clearly take in the rich emerald colored eyes that watched him, while her light auburn hair was pulled back loosely in a ribbon. Even so, a few strands fell over her shoulder in lovely waves.
James straightened himself, to collect his thoughts. "I believe they have learned their lesson," he said officially. "No harm done." Rachel smiled at him, almost causing him to loose the masque of indifference he wore.
"Thank you so much lord…"
"Norrington," he replied. "Commodore Norrington."
Rachel nodded, trying to match his regal demeanour. "Thank you Commodore. You have no idea how precocious these two can be when they put their heads together. I promise you will receive no more threats from my son." She turned to leave, but James stopped her.
"Are you new to Port Royal, madam?" he asked, not knowing what possessed him other than the fact that he didn't want to part from her company just yet.
"Yes," Rachel answered, her eyes twinkling with the hint of a smile. "We've just arrived from England. My late husband purchased a small plantation nearby. We plan to live there."
James paused; the sir-name the boy had given him suddenly making sense. "You are Henry Campbell's wife?" he said, sounding a bit shocked. Rachel's expression changed, uncertain of what would be coming next. "I was sorry to hear of his death. He was well known."
"I am certain he was," she answered quickly, taking the children's hands once more and wondering if it had been such a good idea to settle there after all.
"Are you going to be staying at the plantation tonight?" James asked, sensing the change in her mood. "I would be happy to have some of my men deliver you luggage there for you."
"That would be very kind of you. Tell Commodore Norrington thank you, children."
Megan whispered the words bashfully while Samuel made an elaborate bow. James smiled in spite of himself, but was paying very little attention to the children. He simply could not take his eyes off of Mrs. Campbell, the way she laid a gentle hand on the children's shoulder, the pride and love in her face when she looked at them. She lifted her head meeting James' hazel eyes. "Thank you again Commodore Norrington. I hope we'll be seeing you again." She attempted to leave, but was stopped again.
"Mrs. Campbell," Norrington said, finding himself suddenly nervous and a bit flustered. He felt that he could not let her get away. He started to speak, but stopped himself, feeling utterly ridiculous. "I will see your things delivered," he said with finality.
Rachel's green eyes looked at him questioning, amused at the flustered look on his face that just didn't seem to suit him. "That would be wonderful, Commodore Norrington." She blushed deeply, tearing her eyes from his.
James let out the breath he had been holding, as if a weight had been lifted from his chest and watched as she disappeared into the crowd. He had an odd feeling that his life had taken a new path. That for better or for worse, things would be different from this point on.