"Darling are you healing
From all the scars appearing
Don't it hurt a lot
Don't know how to stop
Don't know how it stops
Now there's no sense in seeing
The colours of the morning
Hold the clouds at bay
Chase them all away
And I'm frozen still
Unspoken still
Heartbroken
Remembering something I forgot..."

"The Saddest Song I've Got," -Annie Lennox


Chapter 7

On the night before their wedding, the bride and groom both wore black.

Marie had spent nearly an hour pinning Evelyn's hair into place, but still a few stubborn wisps saw fit to dangle in front of her face and against her neck.

"I think it looks charming," Marie had declared.

Evelyn had only grumbled.

Marie had then spent a full twenty minutes applying the cosmetics sent over from the apothecary. A layer of white, silk based powder came first, followed by an application of the Parisian rouge. A plaster form of the rouge was then applied to Evelyn's lips, and another, darker lead based powder to her eyes.

Marie smiled. "Why look at that my lady, you would make the Queen blush with your beauty.

"I've already caused the Queen to blush enough for one lifetime."

"What was that Lady Beckett?"

"Nothing, Marie," Evelyn amended quickly. "Just talking to myself." She met her own gaze in the mirror. "Of for Heaven's sake, I look positively ridiculous."

"You look beautiful, Lady Beckett, and I'm sure that Captain Norrington will think so as well. Just think, tomorrow night I shall call you Mrs. Norrington."

Marie's smile was so genuine that Evelyn could not help but return it, even if she did not share the sentiment."

"Yes," Evelyn whispered, looking to her reflection once more. "Mrs. Norrington."

Getting into her gown had taken another fifteen minutes, after every ribbon had been tied and every button secured. The corset on the dress was crème colored, dotted and accented with black pearls from the Orient. The golden tulle continued down into the bell shaped skirt, dusting the floor lightly as she walked in the black embroidered silk slippers. Surrounding the skirt and covering her back and arms was the black satin overdress, hugging her form delicately. Against her neck and elbows, more tulle and lace fanned out, and a string of black pearls lay coolly against her throat.

An early wedding gift from Cutler.

Nearly two hours spent on dressing alone…

…and still, Evelyn had made it downstairs before James.

Much to her chagrin, she found herself pacing back and forth on the wooden floor of the foyer, at the base of the large staircase that was supposed to have been her spectacular entrance. James was supposed to have been waiting at the bottom, and at the moment that he saw her descend the stairs, dressed impeccably like the noblewoman that she was, he would have fallen to his knees, astounded by her magnificence and professed that she was positively the most devastatingly beautiful creature that he had ever seen. She in turn would have simply nodded, passing off his declaration as a mere trifle of emotion—

—or, er, something along those lines.

Well…perhaps he wouldn't have fallen to his knees…or any of that, for that matter.

"Good Lord, I hate that man," she hissed angrily. This was positively ridiculous. What woman was ever meant to wait for her escort! She had spent years—years—with the ladies of King George's court, practically living their lives to make men wait for them.

"Arrogant, self obsessed, cold hearted, self important—"

"Lady Beckett?"

Evelyn's head snapped up.

He was standing on the top of the staircase.

Admiral James Norrington.

Well, he wouldn't actually become an admiral until the ceremony this evening, but…

He looked as if he were carved from marble.

The uniform was black and white, embellished with golden brocade and buttons. Somehow he looked larger in it, his shoulders broader and his body longer. A sword was strapped to his side, and a white wig sat perfectly upon his head, crowned with a black, feathered tricorn hat. Black lace spilled from his sleeve and his neck, and somehow, even covered in frivolous lace and finery, James Norrington had never looked so dangerous.

Evelyn gasped.

She hadn't been breathing.


The ballroom at the Admiralty, located just outside of Port Royal, was all gilt and glowing candles when they arrived. Evelyn was escorted in by Cutler, with James following close behind. The ceremony was rather long for Evelyn's tastes, with all number of men in all manner of pompous military dress saying all sorts of speeches and presenting swords and metals and what not. It was near ten o clock by the time the ballroom opened up to dancing and conversation.

"Admiral Alexander."

Cutler nodded to a large man in an impressive looking uniform, much like the one that James was wearing.

"Evelyn, may I present Admiral of the Fleet Jonathan Alexander. Admiral Alexander, may I present my sister, Lady Evelyn Beckett."

Evelyn curtseyed deeply to the man before her. "Good evening, Admiral Alexander."

He took her hand and brought it to his lips delicately. "The pleasure is all mine, my lady. And I look forward to seeing you married tomorrow to our dear James."

"Oh?" Evelyn asked, guardedly.

Alexander nodded. "I couldn't have hoped for better circumstances. No, no certainly couldn't have." He looked down suddenly and then back at Evelyn, his large face filled with emotion—or at least as much emotion as one could expect from an Admiral. "We all missed him…terribly. You're marrying a good man."

Evelyn felt her heart swell with an emotion that felt like gratitude. Gratitude? For what? For this man's feelings towards James?

"Speaking of which, where is the new Admiral Norrington? Alexander's eyes darted around the room, and Evelyn's joined in the search. She had not seen James for almost an entire half an hour at this point.

"Excuse me Admiral Alexander, Cutler," she said quickly, before darting off.


She found him in an adjacent parlor, dark except for the light of a single candle, alone.

"Are you alright then?" He did not turn. Evelyn's voice seemed to be swallowed by the large blackness of the room. She saw a muscle in James's jaw clench. So he had heard her, then.

"Of course I am, why wouldn't I be?" He snapped, looking to see who had disturbed him.

She took a step back, as if the sting of his tone had actually pushed her. "Forgive me I was just concerned."

He said nothing in reply.

Gathering her wits, Evelyn crossed her hands behind her back and glided towards her fiancée, quietly, gently. "You know," she said, coming to stand beside him, "I think all of those men were beside themselves with seeing you tonight. You must have been quite a Commodore. Quite a leader for them."

"I led innocent men to their deaths," He forced out, his voice rough and throaty. "I don't deserve this."

"They seem honored to serve you again."

"Stop it!" He bellowed.

"No, you stop it!" She cried back with equal force, pressing her hands to her head. "Just, just stop it! I beg you. Don't tell me what you don't deserve." He voice grew thin and pained. "Do you want to know what I think you don't deserve?"

"No."

"Well too bad!"

James's eyes went wide. Evelyn Beckett was actually shouting at him—not that he was surprised, come to think of it.

"What I think you don't deserve is the lot that you drew. Sparrow, the hurricane—Will Turner—"

"Now this I won't listen to!" He declared, turning from her. Evelyn watched in horror as her hands took on a mind of their own, pulling James's turned face back toward her.

"Then listen to this. James. That was what you didn't deserve."

"Why do you say such things?" He demanded, shaking her arms off. "You know nothing of who I was, what I did."

"I know something of tragedy, Admiral." She saw his eyebrows rise. "Oh yes, I know something of it indeed. Of not being to control your own destiny, even when it's what you want most in the world. That's why I refuse to watch this. To watch you drown in your own darkness when you have been given this chance—"

"You're a fool." But he did not sound so sure.

"Am I? I think you're wrong. And I also think that a part of you, some deeply buried, hidden part, might even wish think better of me, to not hate me—Lord knows I've tried to hate you."

He laughed bitterly. "There's no reason that you shouldn't."

"Is there? You're a good man…James."

"Then you don't know what a good man is."

"But I do know what a bad man is. I've known enough of them to last a lifetime."

He was quiet for a moment.

"I saw the Governor tonight."

Evelyn felt her throat tighten. "Governor Swann?"

James nodded dumbly, his own throat tightening with tears that he would never shed, rage that he would never scream. "You don't know what I did." He whispered brokenly. "What I've done. Governor Swann is right—I could have saved her."

"James," she asked, her hand coming to rest upon his back. She could feel his heart racing. "James what are you talking about? What did Governor Swann say to you?"

"He said nothing. He didn't even have to say it—the look in his eyes…"

She had never heard him sound so lost, so desperate.

"James, what did he say to you? Is that why you came in here?"

"A heart, a heart that never stops beating. I took it…but it could have saved her."

"Saved who, James? Elizabeth Swann?" She wrapped her arms around his midsection. "Good God James you are trembling."

"I carried it next to me…it never stopped beating."

"For God's sake James, what's wrong! What are you trying to tell me!"

He took her in his arms then, pulled her close to him, hip lips dangerously close to her own. She could feel his breath upon her cheek.

"You deserve to marry a good man, Evelyn."

The statement was so unexpected, so completely astonishing, that Evelyn found a hated tear at the corner of her eye.

"Oh, James," she said mournfully, looking up into his eyes. "You don't know what I did, what I've done."

"I know what you are."

"No," she shook her head. "No, you don't"

"You are…more, than a man could hope for as a fiancée Evelyn. You are well bred, lovely, amiable...you're a fine woman."

Evelyn didn't know how to react. Well bred, lovely, amiable…she had never imaged those qualities to be so boring. It sounded as if he were describing a prize mare. She could not take this, could not stand this, these moments of tenderness that he could show, these moments of "James," only to have them ripped violently from her by the cold Admiral Norrington. He was so close, so warm and so real. What would it feel like to kiss him? To kiss a man and not have to worry about what it meant beyond the kiss?

She wondered what his lips would feel like. Would they be cold and hard? Or perhaps softer, unexpected and warm. And they would taste like comfort…

James watched her with confused, troubled eyes. She was softer than he would have guessed; her body did not look like it would be soft. And warm…she was so warm, and she—

—She fit him.

No one had ever fit him before.

The idea of that was like a poison to his control, and against all good judgment and sound reason, James found himself imagining how warm she would feel without her dress on, without the corset and the stays and the stockings…how warm she would feel wrapped in nothing but him…

"Evie"

Evelyn and James both jumped back at the sound of Cutler's voice echoing about them. James's arms dropped from her as suddenly as if he had just discovered she had contracted plague, the spell between them as dead as if it had been run through with a sword.

"Excuse me," James said curtly. "I'm sure your brother has things he wishes to discuss with you before tomorrow. Good Evening, Lady Beckett. Lord Beckett."

"Indeed," Cutler said with a smile as James left them, ignorant of the glare in his sister's eye. "Evie, darling are you alright? You breathing seems off?"

"Cutler you frightened me."

"So I did. Forgive me.Enjoying yourself?"

"I suppose that's one way to put it."

He smiled. "And what of our dear James?"

Evelyn's guard instantly went up. She didn't like the way that Cutler said James's name…no, did not like it at all. "What do you mean?"

"You know what I mean," he said, the volume of his voice dropping.

Evelyn swallowed the bitter lump in her throat. Ah yes, how could she have forgotten. She was to play Delilah to James's Sampson.

"He has said nothing out of the ordinary."

"Nothing about Swann?"

"He believes that Swann is dead."

Cutler's eyes widened in satisfaction. "You're sure of this?"

"Fairly certain." Evelyn's thoughts turned black, remembering the anguish in James's eyes.

"Excellent."

"Indeed." Evelyn's voice was clipped and her lips were tight. She crossed her arms over her bodice in an attempt to be rid of the sudden chill that had come over her.

Cutler drew in closer, leaning against the mantle of the large fireplace, lowering his voice to a whisper. "A lone ship was spotted just outside of port last night. By the morning it was gone with no trace of who it was or where they came from." He began to finger of lock of his sister's hair. "James didn't go anywhere last night?"

Evelyn's ears perked up at the question. James, go anywhere? "No Cutler. I—I would have heard him leave."

Her brother raised an eyebrow. "Enjoying marital rights before the wedding I see."

"I meant because my bedroom is beside the stairs." She hissed, her anger flooding her instantly. God how she hated him sometimes. "You really do think I'm some sort of whore, don't you? Is that the only reason that you are having me marry this man? To keep an eye on him for you? What power does he have that you need him watched?"

Cutler ignored the question.

"You will keep me informed."

For a moment, Evelyn tried to appear as if she might defy him, but crumpled, as she always did. Cutler was Cutler…she had never lived a day in her life without him there. And truth be told, he had saved her from all manner of horror and disownment back in London. Whether she liked it or not, life would not exist without her brother. He would always have that over her." Yes, Cutler."

He turned to go.

"Cutler, wait."

"Yes?"

She chose her words carefully. "Wethersby Swann…what is the nature of his animosity towards Ja—Admiral Norrington?"

Her brother shrugged. "I suppose he blames his daughter's death on the Admiral. The last time Elizabeth Swann was spotted alive, it was with him in Tortuga. Norrington has never said what happened after that."

Something began to churn in the pit of Evelyn's stomach.

"He, he was saying something about a heart. Muttering was more like it, almost like a madman." Evelyn cast her eyes down to the floor, afraid that Cutler would see the raw emotion swirling within them. "He really must have loved her."

Cutler went still. "What did he say exactly?"

"Well, nothing actually, just something about a heart that doesn't stop breathing. …why?"

His eyes were hard, dark and fathomless with thought. "No reason, Evie." He put his arm around her shoulder. "Now let's get you home. There is a wedding to be attending in the morning."