Author's Note: Hello and welcome to my first ever POTC fic! I've decided to test the waters of this fandom (no pun intended) with this little story I thought up a few weeks ago. Firstly it is not Norrington/OC romance as it may appear to be but rather a Norrington/OC friendship story. I know I am mainly a romance writer but I decided to take a little break and we can't expect the poor Commodore to go jumping into another relationship so shortly after his upset with Elizabeth. That being said this fic is already complete so if I get a good response to this chapter an update won't be far away. Please leave feedback and let me know how I did my first time around. I will be forever grateful! So read and enjoy!
Disclaimer: I do not own the Pirates of the Caribbean or its characters. Lady Belham alone is mine.
Echo of the Caribbean
Chapter One Her Ladyship the Fishwife
Commodore James Norrington did not care much for sentiment. He preferred to keep emotion separate from duty and when duty took up most of his life that left little room for the former. So it was not strange to find him secluded in his office the day after Miss Swann the soon-to-be Mistress Turner had rejected his proposal. Keeping busy seemed like the best and only cure for heartbreak, or so he convinced himself. That and a fine bottle of brandy the night before helped to soothe the ache inside that groaned like the hull of a ship when struck by a tempestuous wave. There was little use in crying over spilt milk, especially considering the amount of work he faced.
The windows of his office opened towards the pristine harbor, a breeze trickling through the room which smelled of gunpowder and smoke, the latter emanating from the nearby hearth. The ocean lapped playfully against the rocks and the gulls chattered raucously outside on the walls of the fort. Disturbing as the noise could be he sought to ignore it as he settled himself wearily behind a parchment laden desk. The man's handsome face lined with worry, dashing eyes laced with the foul poison of exhaustion and pain, he looked a sorry business. The fresh powder from his wig dusted his broad shoulders, coating the blue coat with white and sticking to his hands every time he rubbed his palms over his temples. He sighed and ran his fingers along the creamy surface of each paper.
One would think that eliminating the greatest pirate threat in the Caribbean would bring nothing but glory and laurels. But the person who dared to think such a thing was indeed a fool and not very experienced in the nature of the Navy. While the Commodore's back had been turned and all his force focused on the hunt for Miss Swann and the Black Pearl, the scrappy Alistair of Scotland had sailed his ship the Selchie right under his nose. Alistair was a rascally fellow, who once or twice bestowed his plunder on a poor fishing village, therefore earning him a safe port, the loyalty of the people and a Robin Hood like repute. He could be more respected than other pirates, if indeed such a thing as a respectable pirate existed. Alistair had plundered an English passenger ship, one carrying a certain Lady Agnes Belham coming to her new residence in Port Royal. Apparently he pocketed the lady's finery and sent her sailing off in a longboat with the useless crew of the vessel.
Commodore Norrington could only picture the old woman's scandalized expression as she was rowed away without any of her effects. Unfortunately Lady Belham's hardship quickly became his. A ship had been dispatched to patrol the waters for any sign of the scallywag and her ladyship quickly transported to Port Royal by more humble means. Norrington rested his head in his hands. At this rate Jack Sparrow would be given a two day head start.
Thinking of the pirate brought back the memories of the day before. They rushed into his mind like waves breaking against the onyx rocks, the blue waters turning gray and stirring viciously. He felt as though he had been smashed upon the rocks, his body broken and beaten beyond recognition, every emotion blotted out except the terrible pain that seared through him. Oh Elizabeth. It seemed like folly now, those few panic stricken days spent on the ocean. The incessant worry that something horrid had happened to his beloved at the hands of pirates, the daring rescues, the life and death struggles. And she had chosen the blacksmith, the Turner boy, a pirate himself. It had all been for naught.
Norrington felt his heart sink like the rotting ship in his breast. The Caribbean breezes reaching in through his windows only made matters worse. The sweet scent of exotic flowers, the intoxication of the salty sea, it all reminded him of her. Elizabeth's very smile would haunt him throughout the days of his life, as a siren's song that echoes in the mind of the listener. Never before had James Norrington thought that such a fate would be his. He had been naïve perhaps, expecting a happy ending. What man does not dream of a happy ending? He felt so close, the thought nearly killed him.
With a groan the Commodore sat back in his chair, abandoning the papers that fluttered like wings. There would be no avoiding the pain, not when it fairly gnawed at him. He struggled against the emotion, but it was like drowning, the more he gasped for air the more the grief filled him. For an instant he felt his eyes burn….
The door to his office flew open and a mischievous face appeared.
"Good morning Commodore, sir," Lieutenant Gillette smiled despite the somber mood. Norrington grimaced and pointedly looked away from his subordinate's cheerful manner. Not always did the two see eye to eye, Gillette's Machiavellian behavior and impish grins rubbed him the wrong way. And unfortunately for the Commodore, Lieutenant Gillette was completely aware of it and delighted in tormenting him in subtly.
"I trust you are well," he continued, shuffling the papers in his grasp.
"Well enough Lieutenant. I'm alive aren't I?" Norrington smiled sardonically and appeared unperturbed.
Gillette frowned, his boyish face pallid as the strong sunlight reflected off the polished wooden floor. "Any news from Lady Belham?"
"No," the Commodore mumbled. "All the better I suppose. She should be arriving within the next several days."
"That is if Jack Sparrow doesn't have his say." Gillette's smile returned as he watched his commander's discomfort.
"I am confident that he will not trouble her ladyship, after all Alistair has already taken all she had." Norrington turned back to his paper work with little concern.
"Very well sir," the Lieutenant said adding a dramatic sigh.
A moment of silence stretched across the room. The Commodore reached forward and dipped his quill pen in a silver inkwell before scratching out a few words on a sheet of parchment. Gillette busied himself amongst his notes, brow creased as he searched for something in particular.
"Sir, there are some matters that require your attention," he said at length. "Ah here we are!" He rearranged his papers and held out a small slip for inspection. "An invitation came earlier today."
Norrington felt his heart wrench painfully in his chest as his eyes wandered over the scrolling penmanship. It was from Governor Swann. Under the glance of Gillette he read the note, a headache forming in his right temple. A party had been arranged in three days time celebrating Elizabeth's engagement to Mr. Turner. And, as the devil would have it, he was so courteously invited.
In disgust he threw the invitation on the table in front of him and rubbed his fingers over his temples in an attempt to chase away the pain.
"Sir?" Gillette watched him interestedly. The urge to smash that arrogant look off his face rose within Norrington so fiercely that he clenched his hands together.
"You may inform the Governor that I will indeed be present at his gathering," he answered, trying to sound indifferent.
"Yes sir." Gillette looked shocked.
"Any other business I must attend to, Lieutenant?" he asked, wanting the man out of his office as soon as possible.
"Yes sir, a small matter. The fishwife wishes to settle her account with you. She is retiring from the business I believe."
"Send her in when she arrives then."
"Of course sir."
"Dismissed."
Gillette saluted smartly and hurried from the office. Norrington was blessedly left alone for the next hour, which he spent ruminating over the event that faced him. Governor Swann would never let such a momentous occasion pass without a celebration of some kind. It only made sense that he would be invited, after all he was the man responsible for his daughter's safe return. His reflections were cut short, however, when Gillette announced the arrival of a woman who wished to see him. But being the man that he was, Gillette conveniently neglected to tell him just who had arrived. Norrington gave him leave to admit the woman and sat back in the gloomy silence that enveloped him. After a moment the Lieutenant returned with the woman in tow.
"Commodore Norrington?" Her shrill voice broke through his thoughts.
Norrington looked up from the carvings that lined his desk, the sudden smell of rotting fish permeated throughout his office. The stench was terrible and he fought the urge to cover his nose. He stared at the woman standing a foot away, her cheeks sunburned and freckles dancing across her pert nose. Her hands were cracked and burnt in the same fashion and the woman's dress alluded to a person of lower stature. The homespun skirt was badly stained about the hem suggesting she spent her day mucking through fish entrails. Norrington sighed, he had not the mind, nor the stomach therefore, to deal with such a person today.
Mustering a polite smile from somewhere, he said, "Ah, good day ma'am. You are the fishwife I trust."
The woman gaped, her small mouth falling open. "Fishwife?"
Gillette shuffled his papers to hide his laughter, biting the inside of his cheek to force back the smile that threatened to invade his countenance.
"Fishwife?" she repeated once more sounding incredulous. "You take me for a fishwife?"
The Commodore cringed, realizing his mistake too late.
"I am no fishwife, sir," she spat, eyebrows arching angrily. "I am Lady Belham, a passenger on the ship you neglected to see safely into Port Royal."
"Dear Madam!" Norrington was on his feet at once, ignoring the headache that shot through his temples. With the gracious air that only a gentleman of his reputation could possess, he bowed and picked up her less than delicate hand to kiss it. The woman however, remained offended and pulled away hastily. He looked her over more carefully this time. She looked young. Somehow the name Agnes Belham had left the impression of a stiff old woman lodged in his mind. "Forgive my wrongful insult. I happened to be…:"
"Bah!" She waved one reddened hand in his face. "It is because of you, Commodore, that I have been so greatly reduced. After that knave of a pirate made off with all my possessions I was left with nothing and could only seek refuge with a horrid fishing ship." Lady Belham slapped her rough dress. "This is all that could be afforded a woman of high standing. I trust, sir that I will not find the rest of the Caribbean bereft of dignity."
"No, my lady, no." Norrington attempted to soothe the distressed woman, keeping his voice calm. Gillette chuckled softly from the corner, earning a scathing glare from his commander. "Your misfortune is quite singular, I assure you. I give you my word that your stay in Port Royal shall be nothing but pleasant." She might not have been an old woman, but she seemed as severe. Her blue eyes narrowed, pulling her face into an unyielding mask. Lady Belham's countenance did not have the same gentle appearance that normally resided with a girl her age. She had a troubled look about her with pinched cheeks and a tight forehead that expressed every unsettling thought.
"Well," she sniffed, her high-cut nostrils dilating, "what do you intend to do about it?"
"My lady?" Norrington stuttered, unsure of what she meant. "I have dispatched a ship to search for…"
"No," Lady Belham drawled. "What are you going to do about my current circumstances? My household is not yet prepared for my arrival and I am without my personal effects. What do you intend to do about it Commodore?"
Norrington felt at a loss for words. He looked quickly to Gillette who simply shrugged. Damn him, he thought bitterly. He always has an opinion when not wanted and now he is mute. "My lady I am sure we can find some place for you to occupy for the time being," he said finally, thoughts tumbling together. "There is The Royal, a fine inn just a little way from…."
"The Royal, sir?" Gillette mused. "The bedbugs have bedbugs in that place."
Just in time. Norrington cursed the man bitterly, smiling politely at the woman whose scowl deepened.
"There are many families of good standing that I am sure would be happy to…."
"I will not stay with some middle-class merchant who I am not at all acquainted with," she protested, her posture straightening as if he had suggested she sleep in the street like a common urchin.
"Well, then I do not see…."
"She could reside with you, sir," Gillette broke in, his voice ringing in a most annoying fashion. Norrington cringed for the second time that morning. What made matters worse was that the lady appeared pleased with this notion.
"It is unseemly," he said hurriedly.
"What is unseemly, sir, if I may offer my view, is the manner in which this lady has been treated."
"Yes, quite true Lieutenant. The Commodore's house will do nicely." Lady Belham smiled and nodded respectfully, her brown hair nearly coming undone from its precarious knot atop her head. "Now what about my effects? I'm afraid this wretched rag is the only thing I have. Commodore Norrington I trust you will see to that as well."
"Yes my lady," he replied wearily, still suffering from the prospect of having her in his household for the next several days. "I shall see if any woman might lend you…."
"Lend me?"
"I…I shall send for the dressmaker then," he finished, feeling the energy drain out of him.
"At your expense, sir?" Gillette couldn't resist the temptation to interrupt once more.
"Yes that does seem fair," she agreed readily. "After all, it is his fault for casting me to the pirates in the first place."
Norrington shook his head in disbelief but managed to swallow the idea. If that was the worst thing that happened to him….
"What of your other effects, my lady?" Gillette continued.
She shrugged. "They were of little value, except for one exceptionally beautiful diamond necklace." The two turned to stare at him.
"I suppose I will send for the jeweler as well." Norrington sank into his chair. Luckily he had set some money aside for frivolous expenses, hoping it could have been used for the wedding. He shook his head, the powder from his wig staining the air like dust particles caught in a beam of sunlight.
Lady Belham appeared in a slightly better temper now.
"I thank you for your hospitality Commodore," she said stiffly. "Perhaps I shall enjoy my stay in Port Royal after all."
Norrington could only nod weakly. Just a week ago he had dreamt of bringing his blushing bride into his home, but now he would be stuck with this miserable wretch. His thoughts must have showed on his face for her ladyship frowned.
"I hope I am not intruding on anything…"
"No," the Commodore mumbled bitterly. "There is nothing for you to intrude upon, my lady."
"Wonderful," she replied. "Now if I may be afforded the chance to rest and wash."
"Of course." Amazingly Norrington mastered his manners. "I will have an escort show you to my home. And again I feel I must apologize for your inconvenience on the seas."
"No matter sir," she said in a voice that convinced Norrington she indeed considered it a matter. The woman turned to leave, her filthy skirts rustling as she reached the door.
"Welcome to Port Royal, my lady," Gillette chimed in sweetly.
"Thank you, Lieutenant." She offered him a kind smile but shot Norrington an annoyed glance, upset that he had not extended the same courtesy to her. Then with an arrogant toss of her head she glided from the room, shutting the door rather loudly behind her. Norrington massaged his temples and groaned.
"I like her," Gillette noted cheerfully.
"At least one of us does," Norrington blinked his eyes rapidly, trying to rid himself of the throb as he looked back to his papers. "Let us hope this week does not worsen. I half expect a hurricane to come barreling through next."
"I think it just did sir," his subordinate muttered, his gaze firmly fixed on the door.
Author's Note: What did you think? Please let me know. Thanks for reading!