What Is & What Will Never Be
Chapter 8
Disclaimer: I do not and cannot obtain ownership of POTC 1, 2, or 3...
CaptainCrimson aka CaptainAnna13: Sorry I've taken so long to update, but I've not been able to get onto the computer to write for a long period of time. But alas, here I am.
immortalwizardpirateelf-fan: OMG! You're correct! My BFF is obsessed w/ Orli, and hates Kate's (ha, ha—that rhymed!) guts, so I decided to take that & incorporate it into my story, thus creating an unlikable character.
Katrina Boswell angrily rushed up the stairs, into her small, dirty quarters. She closed and locked the door (not that it would keep any intruders out, such as men desiring her body).
She went to the small writing table, and after lighting a candle, opened the drawer an extracted a pierce of parchment and a feather quill.
She sat in silence for a few moments, filled with only anguish at the dreadful news she had received.
"How could William do this to me?" she wondered in desperation. She remembered that horrid day, about a year ago, when she had, without remorse, turned down Commodore Norrington's proposal, and then determinably gone to find Will.
"But of course, everyone had to intervene", she grumbled heatedly to herself. "Especially that damned pirate", she remembered.
"If only I had spent more time with Will while he was in Port Royal. But no—he was always at the smithy. Does he never stop working? If I had just taken him away from his work for one night—one night only—he would see how much better I am for him..." she mused. "I'm such a better match for him than that...that ungrateful little tramp!" she fumed.
In her resentment, she hadn't realized that she had been pressing the plume onto the parchment, and when she looked down, she noticed that a splotch of ink had appeared.
"Damn it!" she cursed, trying to blot the smudge away, but it only made it worse.
"That was my last bit of parchment too. Curse you, Elizabeth!" she threatened, loathing against her yet again. "I can't believe you forced yourself upon Will just to get yourself pregnant! I'll show you..."
With that, Katrina turned the parchment over, and began to hurriedly write on the other side.
"My dearest William..."
As the rest of the week continued on, Will Turner spent all of his time with his beautiful wife and beautiful baby; his two angels.
Elizabeth was feeling much better by the end of the week, having been in bed, though she still had to rest for some time before engaging in regular, more vigorous activity.
She, as well as her husband, was continually amazed and enraptured by their baby girl. Elizabeth loved to hold Jenevieve in her arms as the girl smiled, and gently tugged on the ends of Elizabeth's hair.
Elizabeth would look into her daughter's deep brown eyes, and then into the eyes of her husband, and the resemblance warmed her heart.
Will felt the same way, and cherished every day and every moment he spent with his family, never wanting the moments to fade. He needed to protect them, he felt.
At night, as he watched Elizabeth sit in the arm chair by the crib, rocking Jenevieve in her arms, and talking softly to her as she fell asleep, Will loved them so strongly, the love surged through his heart.
In the back of his mind, he was afraid—God forbid—of losing them. Perhaps it was because of the fact (of which he had been constantly reminded) that he was a commoner, who had married, pretty much, royalty—the Governor's daughter. Another reason Will felt this way was because he knew that Commodore Norrington would never fully get over Elizabeth. And who knows what other people there were that might try to tear them apart.
Because of these feelings which Will received whenever he encountered these tender moments, he would spend a few moments' time with Jenevieve after Elizabeth had settled her down for bed, and then take Elizabeth in his arms with a loving kiss.
Mrs. Turner had once questioned her husband if anything was the matter, of which he answered that nothing was, only giving her another kiss. But Elizabeth understood the love within these kisses, and whispered in his ear,
"We will never part from each other; I love you."
Indeed, as the end of the week came, so did the arrival of Commodore Norrington back to Port Royal, Jamaica.
He heaved a sigh of relief as he reached his hometown, eager to stretch his legs on land after being on sea for such a length of time.
James quickly dismissed his navy squad, deciding to not give them detailed instructions until the next afternoon. (He actually could not think clearly, for his mind was set upon returning home after checking in with Governor Swann.)
He momentarily reached the Governor's household by horse-drawn carriage. Governor Swann warmly welcomed him into his office. The Commodore informed the Governor that the Turners were wonderful, and gave him the news of Mrs. Turner's healthy, lovely baby girl.
Governor Weatherby Swann was terribly elated, and after voicing his pleasure at the news, briefly notified Norrington that he himself would be departing for France in another week, and James, again would substitute his duties as Governor.
One would think, that Governor Swann would have written in large, bold letters at the top of his will, that Commodore Norrington would be the next Governor of Port Royal. Forget about family members—of course not! No one is as qualified as James Norrington. Well, it is sensible, seeing as Norrington and Swann have the same ideas and morals, such as their protectiveness over Elizabeth, and believing they know what is right for her. However, moving away from that same, monotonous, never-disappearing subject again... (it is the likeness of a dark cloud of doom, surrounding the Turner family...Funny, Governor Swann controls it, and everyone else just follows along with him. However, the strong love between Will and Elizabeth is the likeness of a sun, outshining the dark cloud, and pushing it away.) At any rate...
Norrington politely took his leave of the Governor and alighted once again into the carriage, heading for his home.
He was thankful once he spotted the mansion from the carriage window. He was eager to be home...and to see his wife.
He mildly dreaded the latter, worried of her reaction of him. He had arrived in Port Royal a few hours sooner than expected, as a matter of fact, but that did not very much concern him.
He looked sorrowfully at his wife. She looked charming; standing there with one hand on her hip, the other hand holding a glass of wine. Her auburn-colored eyes were beseeching of him, yet all he could do was tell her that he must go. Must he? Yes—Governor's orders.
'What kind of marriage is this!'
James remembered that evening before he left, and his wife's words still struck him painfully.
The carriage reached the front of the house, and James cleared his head. He gathered his belongings, tipping the driver, and made his way to the front door.
He stared at the large door of deep mahogany, before taking out his silver key, placing it into the lock, and then turning the golden handle, opening the door, and stepping inside.
He set down his things quietly on the marble floor, then removing his jacket, placed it on the coat-hanger.
No sooner had he done this, he heard the sound of barking coming nearer and nearer.
With running, scraping paws, the mutt of a dog came bounding towards him, still barking.
"Well, hello", James said to the tail-wagging dog, and patted him on the head as he stopped barking.
As he bent down to pet the dog, he noticed a trail of muddy paw-prints on the floor.
"Oh, why does Belle let him in the house...?"
"The dog?"
James abruptly stood up, and looked into the eyes of his wife; her strawberry-blonde hair bounced on her shoulders, and her burgundy dress flowed elegantly behind her, as she too stopped and looked at him, one hand on the door frame which led into the dining room.
"Go on outside", she told the dog. He looked at her and whined. "Go", she ordered once again. The dog lowered its head, and retreated to the door, taking the gold key in his mouth that lay on the rug as he went.
She smiled faintly. "Never could break him of that habit."
"Belle", Norrington greeted gently.
"James", she returned.
The two were silent for several brief moments, before James sighed, and said,
"So, you've been kept busy?"
"Yes", she answered quickly, though looked somewhat bothered at the nature of the question. "At the dress shop, you know, and the market, and reading, and the dog..."
She frowned slightly, then looked at him again. "So how was your journey?"
"It was...fine. Just fine." He paused. "Her baby..."
"Oh, James, why are we doing this to ourselves?" Belle crossly interrupted.
"Belle, I'm sorry..." he walked to her, but she pushed him away.
"Belle, did you receive my letter?"
"Of course I received it!" she exclaimed, tears now in her eyes.
"Belle. Belle..."
She finally looked into his eyes. He took her hands, which Belle was about to reject to, but allowed him.
"I love you", he said solemnly.
After James had spoken those honest words, and few more, Belle calmed, and the couple made their way to the drawing-room.
"Would you care for some tea?" Belle asked. Before James could answer she had already risen and gone to the table, where she poured hot tea into two cups from the teapot.
She set one cup of tea before him, before taking a sip of her own cup, and sitting down on the couch across from him.
"Belle, my dear, again I apologize for all I've done. I do love you."
"I know you do James, and I accept your apology. After I read your letter, of course, I was moved..." She took another sip of tea.
"But what was I supposed to do, James? You're always gone."
"On military duties."
"Oh, please don't tell me it's just that, James. Something's keeping you from me."
"Belle, it's not true. Nothing would keep me from you; you're my wife. Especially not the reason that you're thinking."
"And what reason is that?"
"Belle—stop. Drop it."
"Why should I drop it? Is there something you're ashamed of? Tell me. I'd fancy knowing which lass has caused my husband to cheat on me!"
"Belle!" James exclaimed angrily.
She rose, and angrily went out of the room before James could stop her.
"Belle! Please stop! You're being terribly unfair in your accusations!" James called after, as he attempted to catch up with her.
Belle stopped as she reached the top of the staircase. "But I'm right, aren't I?"
James started to go up the stairs after her, but as he reached only half way, he heard a door slam.
He hurried up, and reached their bedroom.
"Belle", he called through the door. There was no answer. He tried the door handle, but it was locked.
"Belle, please listen to me!"