7

Norrington, for the first time, was happy to see Theodore Groves leave his office.

He looked at the crisp invitation several times more, turning the paper over and over in his hands as though it might be a clever hoax.

But no…there was no doubt. The one social event he had been anticipating with real relish, the one chance for him to escape the pressures of military duty and romantic disappointment, was to be cancelled for the sake of the most dreaded occasion he could imagine.

Governor W. Swann cordially invites Commodore J. Norrington to celebrate the engagement of his daughter Elizabeth to Mr. W. Turner of Port Royal.

Norrington read those words again, feeling each word drop like lead in his stomach. He suddenly felt ridiculous, in his dishevelled state, without his wig, without his decorum. It really was too unkind, to throw such things in his face. True, the Governor had written 'I will understand completely if you decline this invitation' in his customary flowery hand beneath the printed words. But the Commodore knew precisely what was expected of him, and was unwilling to avoid this horrid necessity.

She would be there…radiant, no doubt, glowing with young love. She would welcome him as an old friend, and he would read pathetic gratitude in the eyes of the young man next to her, as he handed over some vacuous gift of cut glass or writing paper.

He closed his eyes and imagined impossible situations, where Elizabeth brought a flute of champagne out to him in his solitude on the balcony and lifted the glass to his trembling lips. He imagined the sunset streaking red and gold over two figures standing peaceful in a still embrace. And Will Turner at the bottom of the ocean.

Again, his blasted rationality shook him back to reality.

It had been foolish of him even to imagine a day of relief, of mad, unfettered happiness. Had this…undesirably duty not arisen, some illness among the staff, or an untimely storm, or the sheer volume of administrational work would have forced him out of the venture. He knew this. He knew he was not destined to be a man of leisure – he was a working man…this was the definition and nature of his life, and he had been supremely silly to suppose that would change.

And yet he had been looking forward to the picnic with unbridled glee. He was sick of dreaming miserably of Elizabeth, a woman firmly committed to his past now, and been subconsciously searching for a clean break, something completely unrelated to Miss Swann and her devilishly low necklines.

That was all…he was looking forward to a picnic with his friends, where pirates and petty thieves would be miles from his mind, but he could not shake the sudden leap of his heart when Groves had announced that his sister would be coming.

He sat down heavily in his chair, drumming his fingers on the carved arm. Outside the dazzlingly bright day had faded into an overcast murkiness.

The Commodore was more than baffled by his strange reaction to Groves' news, and wondered whether his disappointment might be just as much to do with the sacrifice of Miss Groves' excursion, as with the future torture he would have to endure at the Governor's house.

Being in little humour to ride hard back to his abode, he allowed his horse to plod along slowly, and Norrington felt the first bulbous drops of rain spatter his jacket.

He had barely spoken to Miss Groves. Why, then, that his joy was somehow, suddenly complete on hearing that she wished to join the party? Norrington was rather bemused…the emotion he felt for Elizabeth, the overwhelming feeling of inferiority every time he was near her…surely it could not be so easily forgotten and overcome?

The house was in virtual darkness when he rode into the forecourt, drenched to the skin by the relentless tropical storm. Stopping only to stable his mount, he went to his study, still in his sodden clothes and shivering slightly.

After much silent pondering, and frantic pacing before the empty grate, he sat down and wrote two carefully-worded and immaculately presented letters.

Dear Governor,

I would, of course, be delighted to attend Miss Swann's engagement party. Without wishing to offend, I wish to reassure you that my words to Mr Turner several weeks ago were absolute in their sincerity, and I am more than happy to share in their happiness by coming to the official betrothal. Please communicate my regards to Miss Swann for her continued health and happiness until we meet again.

J Norrington

Dear Miss Groves,

I trust your esteemed brother will by this time have communicated to you the sad news – I regret I must confirm the cancellation of our picnic on Santa Maria Friday next. Sadly for our party, I have been asked to the engagement of Miss Elizabeth Swann to Mr William Turner, the blacksmith's apprentice, and I was scarcely able to decline the invitation to share in the happiness of a great friend .However, I need hardly own that it is simultaneously a source of great disappointment to myself, as I was certainly anticipating the opportunity to show you the natural beauty of your new home. Please, madam, do not concern yourself unduly with this unfortunate occurrence, as I endeavour as you read to arrange a more suitable time for our outing. I trust you are settling well into your new surroundings, and I will contact you again if you are still amenable to joining our party when the picnic is rearranged.

I remain, madam,

James Norrington.

Norrington leant back in his chair and regarded these two correspondences. The first he sealed with little ado, but the second sat upon his desk for several long minutes while the writer scrutinised the words. His pomposity irked him greatly, and he groaned inwardly to imagine Miss Groves' response on reading such a haughty letter, but his eyes were already beginning to droop with exhaustion, and he hurriedly sealed the letter and left it in the hall for the housekeeper to attend to.

It is no matter what she thinks, anyway, he thought stubbornly as he mounted the stairs wearily.