AN: well, that's it. I am no longer a school girl. Which is more than a little daunting. However, it does free up a lot of time for writing and so on (ahem…revising…) so…with much gratitude to my wonderful reviewers, who share my love of dear Norrie, here is the next chapter. I hope the lengths of these chapters are OK (just a brief thought). Come back soon, love dd xx

3

Life went on for weeks in a state of lazy indolence. For Norrington, burying himself in administration and such arduous work to prevent thoughts of Elizabeth and her masculine garb aboard the Dauntless, time seemed to crawl by.

All the seasons seemed to merge into one sweltering, tropical climate in the Caribbean, and there was more than one humid day when he hid in the wine cellar of his home with a stack of paperwork, wishing he were back in London, where it rained and where there were pretty nameless girls to escort to the opera and to the races.

It was on one such obscenely fine day that he walked along the sea wall, his smart shoes tapping on the cobblestones. The sea to his left was a sparkling turquoise expanse enclosed by towering mountains, marred only by a few white sails scudding across leisurely.

There was a new ship pulling slowly into the harbour, a Union Jack fluttering in the pathetic breeze. A merchant ship, Norrington thought, as he watched workers line up on the shore to unload goods. At least there would be some change in society – he was more than a little sick of always meeting the future Mrs. Turner and her fiancé in the street. It made his heart jump so, and caused him to blush and stutter far too violently for a man of his composure and refinement.

He continued on his way, arriving in the harbour just as the ship docked, extending a gangplank onto the stone quayside. It was a truly magnificent ship, adorned in gold leaf and sporting a grotesque mermaid figurehead. Trident was written in embellished letters high on one side. The deck was crowded with hundreds of families of all classes, crates of goods and animals – handsome horses and stinking pigs. Norrington remembered his own passage over from Britain, mercifully devoid of manure in any shape or form.

Stalling the dreaded moment when he would have to meet with his Captains to discuss various technicalities in the fleet, a weekly torment which left him bored stupid, he let himself watch the finely dressed nobility descend regally onto dry land.

'Hey! Commodore Norrington!' he looked around until he saw Lt. Groves tearing with a shocking lack of dignity towards him, his hair flying behind him.

'Lt. Groves…you look a sight,' Norrington said levelly as the younger man approached, slightly out of breath.

'Yes, I know…frightfully sorry, sir…but, you see…my wife's on that ship!'

Norrington's eyes widened and he felt an awful pang of guilt that he had never even known his younger officer was married.

'Your…your wife?'

'Yes, sir…the captain of the Trident sent word with a passenger list earlier today. Such a shock, you wouldn't believe, Commodore!' he seemed overcome with happiness and excitement, and it hit Norrington that this man had not seen his wife for over three years, when he had first arrived in the Caribbean with nothing but a spare pair of britches and an extraordinary skill with a musket.

'Good Lord, Groves. I am happy for you…she should be disembarking shortly, then?'

'Yes.' Together the two men scanned the crowds aboard the Trident. It was a haze of rustling, colourful dresses, punctuated with the fashionable wigs of noblemen. Finally Groves squeaked in ill-contained excitement and pushed forward through the swarming crowd on land.

Norrington amused himself by watching several Marines struggling with a particularly reluctant pig, until Groves returned with several people in tow, his young face glowing with happiness beneath his hat. Norrington tried to disguise his curiosity, and wondered if it would be a terribly bad thing if he missed the meeting at the fort.

'Commodore Norrington…my family,' Groves said proudly, indicating a group of four females of various shapes and sizes gathered behind him shyly, clutching small bags and seemingly already wilting under the sun. Norrington bowed politely, murmuring 'a pleasure to meet you.'

He had never heard Groves talk so much before, rattling away about the journey and the lavish customs of the Caribbean. He was utterly confused and lost in the babble – he assumed the young woman holding tightly to the Lt's arm was his wife – whose name seemed to be Ellie or something similar. The girls, who (although Norrington had precious little experience with children and was in no place to judge their ages) appeared to be both younger than five years of age, were trailing behind their mother, looking around at the cosmopolitan port curiously.

The girl following quietly behind was an enigma, however. Her face was hidden by a large hat, and she seemed to be looking at her shoes rather than at the odd sights and sounds about her. Not a maid, surely, Norrington thought, puzzled. She was dressed far too well…no; she was no doubt part of the family.

As if sensing his confusion, Groves took it upon himself, ten minutes into a monologue on the merits of Port Royal, to introduce his commanding officer properly.

'Commodore, this is my wife, Elinor…Elinor Groves, Commodore James Norrington of this port, originally of London.' Elinor Groves, a tall, willowy woman, inclined her elegant head and stretched out her hand languidly for a kiss. Norrington was struck with an impression of great inner strength and poise.

'And my two daughters, Emma and Lucinda,' the Lt continued. The girls peeked out shyly from behind their mother's skirts and waved with sticky hands at the Commodore, who squatted before them and solemnly kissed their tiny hands.

He felt an idiotic little smile spread across his face as he asked the two children 'how do you do?' quietly, and heard them reply in lisping, baby voices. He realised suddenly how little he knew about children, and wondered how Groves managed to cope with fatherhood. But then again…he had not been there to be a father to his darling girls…

'My sister, Alicia,' Groves finished, stretching out an arm to guide his sister forward. Norrington bowed to her, kissing her hand, and looked up into a closed face, a face devoid of emotion.

Slightly shaken by her reclusive visage, he stepped back smartly and said 'welcome to Port Royal, Mrs. Groves, Miss Groves. And of course…these important young ladies. I'm sure Papa will be able to introduce you to some fine playmates in due course, don't worry.'

The sun was causing him to develop his customary headache, and he swiftly made his excuses and walked smartly off to the fort, where he contrived to leave the meeting as hastily as decency would allow, his mind numb with dull statistics and thoughts of a rather soggy Elizabeth in his arms on the day of his ill-fated proposal.

AN: thoughts? Feelings? Implorations for more? (apparently, 'imploration' actually is a word. I thought I'd just made it up…) The next chapter brings a revelation about Groves which alters his career path somewhat. Drop in some time soon, dd xx