The dinner itself was fine. The food was good (as was the drink, perhaps more importantly), and she'd lucked out considering the two people she was sitting closest to were Groves and Elizabeth, so it wasn't like she had to sit and worry about any incoming sneak attacks of the verbal sort. Of course, she wasn't totally relaxed. She could never totally relax - always combing through anything she said before she allowed it to leave her mouth to make sure there was nothing amiss in her words, always waiting for the next question that she might struggle to answer. But, again, she'd lucked out. The topics at hand were kept light and cheerful, and never too probing. Oh, she stayed on her guard, knowing full well that the moment she dropped her defences would prove to be the moment she regretted doing so, but the fear eased.

By the time everybody was finishing up their final course, she had recounted her tale to Elizabeth more or less in full, and Groves was busy filling them both in on the parts that even Theo herself didn't know.

"It was the captain who spotted Miss Theodora first - with no signs of a wreck anywhere in sight, none of us could quite believe what we were seeing."

"No doubt he was in disbelief that it was happening again," Elizabeth replied.

"I'm sure if it happens a third time he'll win some sort of prize," Theo said drily "…Or he'll just give up sailing entirely."

"Oh, if pirates can't do that, I'm sure your appearance hardly will," Groves snorted, shaking his head.

Elizabeth, however, seized that statement "So you know of William Turner, then?"

Theo kept her smirk at bay by sheer force of will alone.

"I know of him - I've come across him," she nodded slowly instead - she was still sore about Will grassing her in, but she knew expressing distaste towards him wouldn't keep her in Elizabeth's good books "People are always eager to tell me how unoriginal the manner of my arrival in Port Royal really was."

"Well it hardly stopped you from making an impression," said Groves.

"Yes, and you've always next time as far as the originality is concerned," Elizabeth teased "Take some time to think it over, I'm sure you'll think of something that will have everybody talking for months."

Oh, the residents of Port Royal would soon have more than enough to discuss, Theo knew that much to be absolute fact. Still, she laughed and shrugged.

"Maybe I could-"

"Miss Byrne! Miss Byrne - we need your opinion on this matter," a honeyed voice cut through the conversation from some way down the table - a voice belonging to the ringleader of the group who'd earlier been picking her apart.

"Amelia Simmonds," Elizabeth leaned forward under the guise of reaching for her wine glass to mutter to her.

"Yes, Miss Simmonds?" Theo quickly said.

She didn't know what she found more foreboding - the look of glee on the woman's delicate features, of the distinct dread that had made itself at home in Norrington's eyes on the other side of the table, no matter how carefully expressionless he kept the rest of his face.

"We were just discussing the likelihood of a second Scottish uprising."

"Ah. Well - I'm Irish, Miss. An easy mistake to make, but I'm not sure I can offer much of an opinion."

The plight of their people was rather similar, that much was just a fact, but she couldn't express that - nor even call it plight - in her present company.

"An opinion? I'm not sure you'd need to be a Scot, nor even English for that matter, to have an opinion on outright treason."

Theo pressed her lips together "I'm just not sure why it's my view you're seeking - or why it would be relevant here."

"…Unless you suspect me of being foolish enough to unwittingly harbour a secret Jacobite," Norrington cut in, raising an eyebrow at Amelia, and Theo could've kissed him for it, for it was his 'joke' (told thoroughly without humour) that had Amelia giving a nervous laugh, fidgeting in her seat.

"Really, Captain Norrington, you and your suspicious mind. My point is only that our ordeal with these lawless Scots is not so dissimilar to the same one we've had with the Irish who would seek to disobey. Perhaps Miss Byrne would therefore have a view of the matter that we ourselves do not."

Perhaps Miss Byrne is a treasonous cow amongst us good law abiding citizens. Theo took a sip of her wine, using it to give herself time to think. All eyes at the table flitted between herself and the other woman as though watching a tennis match. Her usual response to questions along these lines - questions from the English, in her own time - would be simple. "How would you like it if England was ruled by France? By a government in a country far away, with no interest in your people other than how they might tax you and make use of your land?". But such opinions weren't only opinions here, and expressing them didn't make her a supporter of independence, but of treason.

"It's my view that another uprising would be foolish - and the consequences would reflect that foolishness. It's inevitable, given the might of the British forces."

There. Not necessarily a lie - the second Scottish uprising was due in a few decades, by which time she should be long gone from this world, and it would spell disaster for the Scots…unfortunately. But she didn't need to express that view here, at the dinner table of the Governor, and in the presence of James Norrington, the most English man to ever English. The news of Irish independence a couple of hundred years from now would probably be enough to have all here sobbing over a portrait of their precious king.

Beside her, Groves smiled at her response, while Norrington's only response at the end of the table was to nod in satisfaction.

"…And I was also taught that it's impolite to discuss politics over dinner," she added at the end, hoping the indifference on her face seemed genuine.

"Irish politics, perhaps," Amelia muttered.

Theo eyed her shrewdly, making sure not to frown as she did so. What was her game? Was she trying to give her the rope with which to hang herself? Did she really think she'd show herself up as some wild treasonous rebel in response to one such blatant question? No, Amelia was a bitch, but she didn't seem to be that stupid. So what, then? Did she simply want to make Theo uncomfortable? Probably. But maybe she also wanted to plant seeds in the minds of others - the minds that were not yet made up when it came to Theo's presence, or the ones that were, but favourably.

"There, see," Governor Swann cut in loudly, offering a smile her way "Poor Miss Byrne, she's been quite enough without us all judging her based on the lawless few amongst her countrymen."

Theo offered a strained smile, bowing her head in silent thanks to the governor…the somewhat accidentally insulting sentiment behind his words aside.

"Thank you, Governor Swann."

An uncomfortable silence lingered around the table. With everybody more or less finished eating, there wasn't even any food for them to awkwardly push around their plates in a bid for distraction. Theo refused to make an effort to revive the conversation, though. She hadn't been the one to kill it. Instead, she just sat perfectly still, her eyes fixed on the floral centrepiece before her.

"You know, we have the most beautiful chess set in the drawing room, Theodora - do you play?"

It was Elizabeth who saved her in the end, and in her peripheral vision Theo noticed a few of the women share looks in response to the familiarity with which the governor's daughter spoke to her.

"I'm happy to try," Theo said quickly.

"Yes, yes, it's about time we all moved to the drawing room, I should think - give the servants a chance to clear the table before the wee small hours are upon us," Governor Swann took his daughter's lead, and with that they were all on the move.

It turned out that Elizabeth did not play chess, but Groves did and was happy to take up the role of her opponent - for which Theo was much relieved, because it meant she wasn't stuck making small-talk with those gathered who had obviously resolved to dislike her long before actually meeting her. Oh, they'd toned it down just slightly, now that Elizabeth, Norrington, and the Governor himself had made their opinions on the matter known, but she still heard the word 'foundling' murmured in passing whenever one of the ladies swept past just a little too closely.

Groves spared them a glance, Theo did not, but once they were out of earshot he murmured.

"You mustn't let them bother you, Miss Byrne.'

"They don't," she said, and almost convinced herself that she meant it as she kept her eyes fixed on the board "They're just jealous of my ingenious means of travel - I drifted here for free, I bet those daft…ladies had to book passage and everything."

"You really are very strange."

"That's what everybody else is saying too, funnily enough."

"I didn't mean-"

His backtracking was interrupted when Theo's line of sight towards him was broken by a glass of wine being presented to her. Glancing up, her eyes trailed up the hand that held it, the arm it was attached to, until she met the eyes of Captain Norrington himself.

"Oh, you do know how to make an Irishwoman happy," she sighed, accepting the glass from him "Thank you, Captain."

"I see you've won," he looked down at the board.

"Miss Byrne plays well, sir," Groves supplied.

"And your chivalrous lieutenant threw the game in my favour," she shot Groves a knowing look.

He had the grace to look chided, but only just. Mostly, he just looked amused as he stood and offered his seat to Norrington instead, who considered it, before finally sitting down just as she thought he would refuse. Theo blinked, and began to reset the board with her free hand, doing a very poor job at hiding her surprise as she sipped at her wine as she slowly worked. Norrington joined in, collecting all of the pieces and putting them back in their proper place.

"I warn you, I have no intention of letting you win," he said.

"Good," she shrugged.

And he was right - he kicked her arse, and she accepted defeat with grace. Tipsy grace, but grace all the same.

"I'm struggling to discern whether you're thoroughly inebriated, or entirely sober," Norrington said as they entered his home some countless hours later.

"Many have tried to solve that riddle over the years, good sir. Few have succeeded."

"Perhaps I might have a hint."

She snorted "I could probably do a decent cartwheel in my current state."

"Please refrain," he muttered, but she was already continuing.

"…But I'm not sure what side that supports - I've been known to do them after a few vodka shots, too."

"Vodka?" He echoed with a frown.

Well. Shit.

"Oh, it's er- a strong drink. From Russia, I think. Or Poland. One of the two…maybe both."

How she dearly hoped that they were countries by now. Preferably with the same names. Although she supposed she could fall back on 'well that's what we call them in Ireland, hehe, oh look - a leprechaun!', should she be questioned on a slip, but she was well aware that such an excuse would only serve her for so long. It also included hoping nobody here knew any of her kinsmen particularly well…which, judging by the talk of the ladies at the dinner party, they did not.

"I know what it is - I'm surprised that you do, however."

"It can't even be in the top three most surprising things about me."

"I hadn't started a list."

"There's not enough paper in the world."

"In that case, I should save myself the time and the energy and not try at all."

"Well then I'm glad I could warn you in time, before you invested in the materials to make a start."

Another one of his wry half-smiles acted as her reward as he entered the sitting room, sliding the wig from his head as he did so. Theo shadowed his steps, but paused in the doorway, grasping onto the door frame in hopes that it might serve to bolster her courage just as the drink had.

"But while we're on the topic of surprising matters, I've been meaning to thank you. I mean, truth be told, I've no idea how I could adequately thank you. I don't think I'll ever be able to, but saying it seemed like a good start," whether the look of surprise on his face was due to her incessant rambling, or the sentiment behind her words itself, she wasn't sure - but she pushed onwards still "Thank you, Captain Norrington. For the…astronomical kindness you've shown me. You can say it's duty and…and honour all you like, but you've gone above and beyond to help me. I'll be in your debt for the rest of my life for it."

"It surprised you? My kindness?"

"I didn't mean it like that," she said quickly "Not you specifically - just…kindness in general. I didn't expect it. Didn't even really hope for it, really, it seemed a bit of a futile use of my time."

He frowned at this, looking strangely…sad? That hadn't been what she was going for. It had just been pragmatism, really. Had she set out to try and survive here expecting benevolence and kindness to simply fall into her lap (much as it had, to her great surprise), it would have only set her up for disappointment if it did not happen. Okay, it had happened, but this way it was just a nice surprise. An added bonus. Anticipating the worst stopped the worst from being so terrifying if it happened…in theory. Waking up on that piece of driftwood had still been pretty bloody terrifying, though. Apparently she'd done a poor job at expressing that.

"Oh lord, I'm making a right pig's ear of this, aren't I?" She groaned "I'm not much good with words - not even when I haven't got a drink in me. My point is…I massively appreciate all that you've done for me - all that you're still doing - and I'm grateful. Truly. I just had to make sure that you knew that."

It came as no shock to her that he looked the absolute picture of awkward discomfort by the time she'd finished. He was the walking embodiment of the stereotype attached to the English - stiff upper lip, no talk of emotions, nothing sappy ever. She was more surprised by how endearing she found it. Still, this was the response she'd much expected…which was exactly why she'd waited until she was at least a little bit buzzed to give what she'd labelled in her mind as her 'gratitude speech', hoping that she wouldn't feel mortified by the end.

And she wasn't. Not for the most part. Oh, she knew full well she'd wake up in the morning and wish she'd never opened her mouth, but the greater part of her was glad to have said it. She didn't like being an inconvenience - a dependent. A leech. The least she could do was make sure he knew that she was grateful to him, and the odd "thank you" here and there just didn't seem to be enough in her mind.

"Right, well," she smoothed a hand over the bodice of her dress "That's that. I suppose I'll turn in for the-"

"Miss Byr-" he began to call after her as she turned away, then stopped short before continuing "Theodora."

Stilling, she turned back around slowly. He waited until she looked him in the eye before he spoke.

"You are most welcome," he said with an incline of his head.

He said it firmly - almost sternly, in fact, like he was daring her to doubt his words. Theo smiled softly and bowed her head.

"Goodnight, James."

James waited patiently as he listened to Theodora's footsteps retreat up the stairs, then as Hattie greeted her, no doubt waiting to help her out of the elaborate dress she'd borrowed, before the door to the guest bedroom opened and closed. Only then did he sigh and relax back into the chair on which he sat. It had been a foolish assumption, even if not a conscious one, when he thought that she might stop surprising him after they'd pulled her out of the ocean. Or after he'd pulled her out of the rainforest, for that matter.

Did not expect kindness. He was almost disturbed by how that phrase, spoken so freely and easily, unsettled him. Had it only been that alone, he might've brushed it off. A daughter of a soldier would know full well that the world was not always entirely pleasant. But he couldn't help but pair it with what he already knew - her bruises, yes, but also the way he often caught her staring towards the horizon with a sort of steely determination shadowed by dread, like she expected some great sea monster of myth and legend to emerge and lay waste to the island. But there were no sea monsters. So what was it - who was it - that she feared so? Dreaded the appearance of so?

And what might he do should they be doomed to discover the answer to those questions? What could he do?

He hadn't been blind to her reaction when the other ladies present at dinner had attempted to goad her. On the contrary - he'd paid close attention to her reaction and he worried that it was yet another strike in favour of his suspicions. She'd simply…ignored it. There were no returned barbs, which could have just been an attempt to rise above the petty jabs, but there was also no reaction. No indignance, no offence. Simply resignation. Like she was used to the goading. Like showing any anger, annoyance, or upset was totally out of the question. Alone, it would've been mere decorum, and he'd have never given it a second thought. With everything else, though, it was almost all he could think of. It perturbed him.

The part of him that adhered, strictly and solely, to logic was keen to argue against his findings - insisting that if he simply spent his time looking for evidence for a conclusion that he'd already come to, all evidence would seem skewed in that manner. Perhaps it was partnering up with his desire not to believe the conclusion that he was coming to, but he was not so naive as to avoid said conclusion for that reason.

The law was clear - no matter how distasteful he may have found it. A man could beat his wife with a stick, so long as the stick was no thicker than his thumb…and the purpose of the beating had to be corrective. Moderation was key. From Hattie's vivid description, though, Theodora's case did not fit these guidelines whatsoever. It sounded…excessive. Sadistic, even. Indeed, James found it difficult to imagine circumstances that would justify not only such a severe beating, but any beating, particularly where Theodora was concerned. He had seen nothing in her that might justify it, even from the strictest of husbands. She was not only striking, but funny - and intelligent, more intelligent than she probably thought she let on, always with something whirring behind her bright eyes. Most of all, she did not deserve to be sent back to whatever man had done that. Nobody would deserve it, but her least of all.

So what could he do in such an event? For now, he had to simply hope it would not come to pass. Her husband, if all of this speculation proved correct, would likely assume her dead. And even if not, would he care enough to look for her? If so, it was still a long-shot that he would actually find her. There were so many islands and territories from the Caribbean to the North Atlantic that it would be unlikely that one man could check them all - and impossible that he might check them all thoroughly. Unlikely did not mean impossible, and it did not mean that he wouldn't dwell on the matter just in case, but it was just unlikely enough for him to feel tentatively hopeful that this strange little adventure would not end with some…some tyrant dragging Theodora from his home, kicking and screaming. The thought alone had a steady anger dwelling deep within him, and he knew that would only grow the longer he found himself responsible for her wellbeing.

There was also a more pressing question; one rooted in the immediate reality that they currently faced, and not some vague possible eventuality that may or may not come to fruition. What could he do to put her at ease? She had not offered the truth to him, and he had not pressed her for it, worried it may push her in the opposite direction. Why hadn't she told him? Admittedly, he was self aware enough to know that he was a staunchly by-the-book type. It could very well be that this fact made her fear that if she told him the truth, he would begin a search to return her to her husband, deeming that to be where she belonged. But he could never do that. Yes, he preferred to do things by the book, except in circumstances that were entirely exceptional. Like these ones were.

But he could offer no comfort, and no reassurance, unless she trusted him enough to tell him the truth first. They were on that path, he knew they were, but it was early yet. There was an ease growing swiftly between them that caught even him off-guard, a short-hand that allowed them to glance at one another across the dinner table as a form of communication in itself. It was a far sight better than the eventuality he'd expected upon first bringing her here - one filled with awkward small-talk and a desire to herd her from his home as quickly as humanly possible, without forcing her into an unsuitable circumstance. It warmed him all the more to see her getting along so well with Elizabeth, too, but it didn't surprise him much. The more he considered it, the more similarities there were between the natures of the two women.

Sighing, he smoothed a hand over his hair. In addition to how long the evening had stretched on (it would soon grow light outside, and he had no intention of indulging in a late morning start), it was an insufferably hot and humid night, too - much too stifling for him to be working himself into a frenzy over these matters. He would find a solution for them eventually. He knew he would.

A/N: Knowing when to capitalize titles is complicated, and something I'm having to research every other paragraph — I'm doing my best, but some errors might slip through, so I'm sorry if so! This chapter is about as political as this story is going to get in terms of Irish (and Scottish) relations with the English — so worry not, if it's not your interest. I just couldn't imagine a scenario where it wasn't brought up around Theo.