Part four. You never know how evil I may be…
Commodore James Norrington was dead. The news was flying through the market, through the taverns, through the mouths of gossiping women. The beloved commodore had been found dead in his quarters on the H.M.S Dauntless II and the ship's surgeon had pronounced him dead only a week previous. Messenger boys were running in and out of the governor's mansion, for that was where Mrs. Elizabeth Norrington had taken up residency with her second cousin, Governor Albert Swann. "Old Albie", as he was more commonly known, had be pronounced governor after Elizabeth's father had regrettably passed away three years previous, much to everyone's grief.
It was high noon as the butler answered the door to reveal Mr. William Turner. The blacksmith did not look a day older than forty, but the age in his eye suggested he was well over seventy. Of course, he was merely a respectable fifty-one years of age, well known by the surrounding colonies and of an upstanding reputation as well. He was dressed in a patched and frayed tailcoat with a flowing shirt underneath that might have at one time been white, and his trousers suggested he had quickly changed after a particularly long session in the smithy. Indeed, he had come as quickly as he could, having just heard the news.
He looked at the butler. "I…" He didn't know what he would have said had Elizabeth not descended the stairs, looking like a glorious angel despite the gray hairs shining through her normally glorious hair.
"Ah, Mr. Turner." She greeted him with a strained smile. Tear stains ran down her cheeks and she looked as if she hadn't slept at all. "Come, we will talk in the parlor." She sniffed with as much dignity as she could muster.
The butler stepped aside and the two adults entered the parlor and took a seat across from each other at a small, intimate table by the window. Will absentmindedly touched the petal of the wilting lily as he looked at her face. "I'm sorry." He said softly.
"Thank you." She sighed, her breath ragged. "You know I do not grieve him as a husband, as a friend." She whispered, as if speaking of a conspiracy. "He was always a good friend." She smiled slightly.
The door to the parlor opened to reveal a stunning image of James Norrington. Elizabeth stood and smiled, walking to embrace the man. Will stood up, nodding his head with respect. The man was James Norrington, Jr., who was the very image of his father in more ways than just appearance. He commanded the same respect and obedience from everyone who entered his presence, just as his father had always done. The only difference was he had Elizabeth's sense of adventure, hidden deep beneath the duty and responsibility.
"Mr. Turner." The son of Commodore Norrington sounded exactly like it. It was as if he was speaking to ghost, Will thought wryly. "Might I have a word?"
Will nodded and followed James out of the parlor. The naval officer whirled about and glared at the blacksmith. "I loved my father. You of all people could never replace him." James hissed.
Will inclined his head. "I would never aim to. He was your father." He said with respect.
"Indeed." James met Will's eyes. "With that said, I knew my mother never loved my father, never in the way he wished her to. I think my brothers and sisters and I always knew my mother… loved you." He drawled, searching for the right words. "So do as you see fit, Turner. Hurt my mother… and may God have mercy on your soul." The naval officer left him standing in the hallway, rather stunned.
"Will, what was that about?" Elizabeth inquired when Will entered the room.
"Your son issued me a rather… stern threat." He commented with a small smile, before solemnity took over, as it always did.
"You do not grieve overmuch for James." Elizabeth observed as they once again took a seat. "What is this… pain in your eyes?" She asked, tilting her head to the left.
"I… don't know." He lied.
"Yes you do." The widow before him smiled bemusedly. "Why won't you tell me?"
"You were married, Elizabeth. You have children… what I have desired for these thirty years, what I have dreamt of and wished for and what I begged God to take my life for just a moment of… it would not be right." He averted his gaze, unable to even meet her eyes.
He had always imagined their first moments, alone and free together, would have been difficult. Indeed, he was right. It was hard to the point it made him want to leave her presence and go back to his blacksmithing and put his unused love into his craft. But the anger and frustration that rolled from Elizabeth kept him seated.
"Who are you to say what is right? We have waited thirty long, hard years for this moment. I felt like a terrible mother, putting my children to bed, kissing my husband goodnight, and then sitting on the window seat, watching your silhouette into the night. I claimed to love my children, and yet I dreamt of a different life. I dreamt of you, Will!" She stood, tears flowing anew down her cheeks. "Do you remember the Black Pearl, Will? Do you remember my hand?" She pulled off her glove and showed him the faded scar.
"I remember." He admitted softly.
"I loved you even then. You loved me, too. I married another man, had another man's children, suffered the death of that man… just to be with you. Are you going to tell me that was all for naught? That my wishes of being with the only man who held my heart were empty and I suffered sleepless nights for nothing at all?"
William Turner, not for the first time, was struck dumb. He looked down at his rough hands and felt a tear drop onto his sleeve, but he quickly wiped it away. He struggled in a battle within himself. Memories of their wild adventure with Jack rushed through his mind. He remembered Jack telling him that not all treasure was silver and gold. He remembered swearing he'd die for her. He remembered all of the nights following their adventures, hoping they'd be together.
Most of all, he remembered their fervent kisses and embraces before her wedding. He remembered hearing her tell him she loved him a thousand times and he told her the same a thousand times over. That dream he had despaired over could become a reality. Why couldn't he simply accept it?
"Do you even love me at all?" Elizabeth asked, tears streaking down her perfect, shapely cheeks.