AN: so…the plot is moving ever so slowly forwards. Read, enjoy, and write a line or two singing my praises. Or not, as the case may be…lots of love and with grateful thanks to all who have reviewed so far, dd xxx

4

The cool evening was greatly welcome when he finally finished work and returned to his house, a ridiculously large estate for a bachelor with no particular needs and a streamlined household. It was a good building for cultivating morose thoughts of loneliness.

It was to this place, smattered with navy, bleeding shadows of palm trees, that Norrington returned on horseback, to find Lt. Groves in a state of agitation, wringing his hat in his hands in the front porch.

Dismounting deftly from his horse, and thrusting the reins into the hands of a waiting manservant, he crossed the gravel to his younger officer and guided him into the house.

'Now, Theodore,' he said more sternly than he had intended, 'what is the matter?'

Groves, seated in a leather armchair by the empty grate, exhaled heavily before beginning. 'Sir, I must own I am in great distress. I have received most unfortunate news. The reason for my wife's decision to move to Port Royal…bringing our children and my sister…I regret, sir, that my father died nigh on six months ago.'

At this, Norrington, berating himself for his earlier severity, rose rapidly and poured a brandy for the shaken young man. 'Dear God, Groves,' he said, handing him the glass and touching his shoulder lightly, 'I am deeply sorry. Why did your wife not tell you earlier?'

The younger man was momentarily silent. 'I suppose…she did not want my reaction to be public. I cannot blame Elinor…she was most kind in breaking this sad news.'

'Yes, indeed. A good decision, I must own.'

The two sat in silence, with only a few candle-lights, hastily brought by the servants to light the huge room, flickering here and there.

'Listen, Groves…you really must have some leave. Please, take as much time as you like…with your family. I know…this must indeed be hard to deal with, so much joy and disaster in one day.'

'Thank you, sir…thank you so much. But…I am afraid…there was some more news.'

'Oh?' Norrington paused from sipping his own brandy and looked shrewdly at Groves. Something in the other man's voice was cautiously ominous.

'Yes, Commodore. I had no idea, I swear…I…it has come to my attention that my father, John Groves…left me a considerable amount of money in his will…the assets of the entire estate…a yearly sum of around ten thousand pounds.'

'Good God, man! Ten thousand? Why, in England you would be among the richest of men…in Port Royal…you will live like a king, Lt.'

'Exactly. That's precisely what I'm scared of, sir. How am I…well, Commodore…I feel I must decide. I must choose between this ample fortune, and a life in the Royal Navy.'

Norrington felt his heart sink. Groves was a respected and committed officer…he fancied he had been something like that in his own tempestuous youth. It would be a bad blow to lose his companionship.

'But of course, Groves. There is no decision to be made. You can provide handsomely for your young family, no question about it. Who would begrudge you the opportunity to make a wonderful new life for yourself on land?'

'But…'

'Groves.' Norrington held up a hand in protest. 'If this is another of your guilty concerns for the state of my heart…I can assure you that I will struggle on without you, somehow. I mean no offence, for I truly will miss you. But believe me, Theodore, I would not have you parted from your wife now, to travel the high seas with an old dog like me, and to die miserably of scurvy instead of in bed, of old age, with your finely dressed grandchildren around you waiting to squabble over the inheritance.'

Groves looked awed and doubtful. 'Sir…I don't know if I can do anything but be in the Navy.'

'Nonsense! Of course you can. It is not so difficult, after all, to sit around being fed grapes and so on. You might buy a plantation, you know…that would keep you more than occupied in your wealthy stupor.'

'Erm…but, sir…'

'Groves. Look at me. I have grown to rely very heavily upon your friendship these three years past, and I hope you realise that. But that friendship extends only to my personal affairs…the loss of Miss Swann, comforting me when I lost my brother, the weekly trips to the tavern. Onboard the Dauntless, as you no doubt realise, you are simply another officer in a wig to follow orders and to delegate. You will be replaced only in my force of men. On land we will be as we have always been…very good friends. Would you agree?'

Groves seemed heartily embarrassed at being spoken to so candidly by his superior, but nodded through his blushes. 'Yes, sir. I would like that very much.'

'Very well,' Norrington concluded, rising once more. 'I shall expect your resignation within a few months, once you have concluded your affairs in the Navy and found a suitable situation in which to live out the remainder of your days. Yes?'

'Yes,' Groves agreed in relief. It was clear that it had been the potential wrath of the Commodore rather than the death of his distant father which had preyed most heavily on the mind of the young man standing worried in the porch.

Norrington's maid showed Groves out, and the Commodore watched him walk down the hill into the enticing lights of Port Royal. He wondered where he and his wife were staying that night. It would be an emotional reunion, no doubt. He turned away from the window in disgust. That he resorted to living through another in such a way, imagining such things, simply because, as he had for the past thirty-four years, he was trudging up to a lonely bed.

AN: awww…call on me, Norrie, we can fix that lonely-bed state of affairs. Erm…anyway, moving on…the next chapter, should you wish to read it, takes place in a pub, where the gang are planning a picnic. Rebels that they are…dd xx