Fic: A Bargain at Any Price (1?): The Gilded Cage
By Honorat
Rating: K
Disclaimer: From what I hear tell of Disney, it's not a corporation to suffer fools, nor strike a bargain with one
Summary: Elizabeth reflects on her interrupted marriage proposal. Sequel to "Worthy of His Steel." We've met Will. Now it's time to meet Elizabeth. More movie novelization and escaped plot bunnies. This fits with the "Suit" challenge at Black Pearl Sails.
Thank you, Geek Mama, for editing this. I'd have had a hard time of it without you.
The Gilded Cage
She was finally alone. Finally the hordes of fussing servants and maids and fathers had left her in peace for a moment. Yes, her father could be a fussing horde all on his own. She was fine, she'd insisted. Just a little swim that was all. She'd been swimming before. She'd never drowned before, but she saw no point in dwelling on the finer points of her adventure. She just wanted them to go away. And so she'd pretended she needed to rest. After an increased frenzy of flurrying, the desired result had been acheived. She had a few moments by herself before Estrella would be up to stir the fire and tuck her in with a warming pan—in spite of the afternoon heat trapped in the house. Feeling suffocated, as though she were still wearing that wretched corset, Elizabeth flew to the window.
Brushing the gossamer curtains aside, she threw open the glass and leant out over the sill as far as she could, as though to escape from the stifling confines of her room. The old childhood ache tugged at her soul—the desire to push out from the warm stone into the cool evening air, to soar out across the jeweled glow of windows in the town below, over the glimmering waters of the bay, beyond the sunset to freedom. Although Elizabeth tried to summon the discipline that allowed her to return to her prescribed life, tonight it wasn't working.
Whirling away from the spectacular view, which only seemed to taunt her with its futility, she paced her luxurious room like a caged beast. Exactly like, she thought bitterly. Kept in this gilded cage, performing the acceptable, polite social tricks, always padding with velveted paws. Elizabeth flexed her fingers, staring at their claw-like silhouettes in the last twilight. Estrella is right, she thought. I have too much imagination.
Of course, she knew what was troubling her. She'd been brought up expecting to be bartered off as a bride to the highest bidder—the heiress to her father's wealth was a great prize in this limited marriage mart. But she hadn't expected it to be so soon. Now that her father had given James Norrington permission to press his suit, it appeared that Elizabeth Swann, governor's daughter was about to become Elizabeth Norrington, commodore's wife. Her sudden dunking in the Port Royal Harbour had only delayed what was surely inevitable.
Would such a fate be so terrible? Commodore Norrington was without doubt the most eligible bachelor in Port Royal. The middle son of an old and noble family, he had the ability to command life's elegancies above and beyond what the pay of a naval officer could support. In the Royal Navy, his star seemed likely to rise to the Admiralty. In her father's eyes, James Norrington was the ideal husband for his daughter.
He was much older than she, but such an age difference was considered beneficial. A woman was expected to look up to and be guided by her husband—a situation best fostered if he were several years her senior. A leader of men, a courageous warrior, a skilled commander of great ships, James Norrington was all of these things—she should have had no trouble falling in love with him.
Not only that, he was a man of good conversation and impeccable manners. He graced a ballroom with as much elegance as he did a salle d'armes. All the matchmaking mamas had tried in vain to bring the handsome officer up to scratch. All her friends had set their caps for him, to no avail. She should be gratified that such a man had singled her out as the object of his affections.
Above all, Commodore Norrington was a friend, someone she had known since they'd met on the crossing from England when she was a child.
So why, then, was she feeling so trapped? Why did the thought that she would be giving her life to James Norrington make her shiver? Why did she not even understand her own heart?
Pausing in front of her dressing table, Elizabeth gazed into her mirror. In the gathering darkness, her reflection stared back at her, pale and dark-eyed. "Who are you?" she asked, stabbing a finger at the face in the glass. Elizabeth, the governor's daughter, was a role in a play with which she was familiar. Walk this way. Smile that way. Don't run like a hoyden, miss. Don't frown. You are too familiar with the help, dear. Don't yawn at the table. You're a young lady now. Elizabeth, the commodore's wife, could only be more of the same. Must she go from one to the other before she discovered who the stranger in the mirror was?
She glared at her reflection gradually disappearing in the gloom. "If you're ever going to introduce yourself," she addressed the fading image, "you'd better do it soon. I don't have much time left." The face in the mirror only quirked one dark brow at her and twisted a cynical smile.
TBC