8

The weather had cleared considerably by the next morning, when the Commodore's letter was delivered to the Royal Oak, and received not without a significant spark of interest in the heart of the addressee.

Already aware that the picnic had regrettably been postponed, Miss Groves skimmed the bulk of the letter, marking the phrases 'I was certainly anticipating the opportunity to show you the natural beauty of your new home' and 'I endeavour as you read to arrange a more suitable time for our outing' mentally.

She was still in bed, attired in a satin bed-jacket, sipping her daily cup of tea, when her brother entered the room, curious to read her mail.

'Do I not have the right to private correspondence, brother?' she inquired with one eyebrow arched.

'You would not deny me, Alicia? I act in your best interests, I assure you…he's a dangerous man, our Commodore Norrington. God only knows what underhand schemes he has afoot.' Groves, a half-eaten slice of pineapple in his hand, looked at his sister in mock disapproval.

'Aye, dangerous…I fear for my life, dearest Theodore.' Miss Groves laughed gently, and Groves was suddenly aware of what an unusual sound it was, so foreign to his ears. He smiled to hear it.

'I do but jest, I assure you, Alicia. The Commodore is the finest man I know. Whatever he has to say to you, I'm sure he will have no objection to my reading it.'

'Dear brother, you are possibly the most unsubtle, tactless matchmaker I have ever encountered. Please go and finish your breakfast and leave me to read my love-letters in peace.'

Groves laughed, perching on the windowsill in the new sunshine. 'Love-letters, eh, Alicia? The Commodore wouldn't know a love-letter if it hit him between the eyes! Now, let me see…' he stretched out his hand and took the proffered letter.

Letting his eyes scan the page, he blinked once or twice in surprise, and set the letter down on the bureau. So…the reason for the Commodore's sudden change in mood the previous evening was explained. He felt a possessive feeling of hurt rise up on behalf of his friend.

That the Governor, aware as he was of the broken relationship between his daughter and Norrington, should be so callous as to throw the Commodore's failure in his face in such a public manner. Groves knew his commanding officer would feel honour-bound to accept the abhorrent invitation, feeling it would show bad grace should he escort another woman through the jungles of Santa Maria the same day.

Miss Groves, sipping at her tea, regarded her brother as he stared out of the window onto the street outside, already busying with the pedestrian traffic of the morning. A faint frown had appeared between his eyes, and she lowered her cup to speak.

'Theodore, whatever is the matter? Commodore Norrington's letter was satisfactory, was it not? The picnic will still take place, I have no doubt.'

'Yes, yes…' Groves turned distractedly from the window and picked up the letter again in stubborn disbelief.

'Theodore…you would not wish him to forego the engagement of his dear friend simply to play bowls on a beach and eat barbecued pork, would you? I am pleased he has received an invitation.'

Groves snorted in contempt. 'Dear friend? Dear friend indeed. If my friends behaved as James' do, I should have taken my own life long ago.' He turned back to the window, folding his arms violently across him and presenting a frightening figure to his puzzled sister.

'But surely…Theodore, what has Mr Turner done to offend his friend, then?'

Groves raised his eyebrows. 'Mr Turner? William Turner is no friend of the Commodore's. Their paths have barely crossed…Norrington is a gentleman, Alicia, and as such unlikely to mix with blacksmiths and their sort.'

'Don't be a prig, Theodore,' Miss Groves said coldly, pulling her bed jacket closer about her shoulders. 'His "dear friend" is then Miss Swann?'

'Yes. Miss Elizabeth Swann. And a great friendship she has offered our Commodore, indeed.' Groves scowled in dislike.

'Sarcasm does not become you, brother. I wish to know the reason for this confounded secrecy. The Commodore seems…most complimentary about Miss Swann.'

'Yes, more fool he. He cannot see that she is a heartless, treacherous devil-woman with little comprehension of men and their world. To choose Will Turner over a man such as the Commodore…a man with so much affection and love for her…to choose a common blacksmith barely out of school instead. She shows poor judgement and a hard heart, Alicia.'

Miss Groves sat in utter shock, her teacup halfway to her mouth. 'Am I to understand…that Commodore Norrington…had an attachment with Miss Swann?'

'It lasted all of two days.' Groves frowned again and threw the letter back on the table. 'She is capricious and whimsical. The Commodore is no doubt better without such a woman as a wife.'

Miss Groves was silent for several minutes. She was torn in several directions – a mad wish to defend the Commodore, and damn this unknown woman for using him so abominably, a scepticism at the accuracy of her brother's impassioned speech, a light-headed happiness to hear that there was no longer a link between Norrington and the eligible Miss Swann, and an utter confusion as to why on earth she should care.

Groves was also silent, watching his stunned sister. He was not ignorant of the fact that his unmarried sister would be more than an ideal match for his friend, and looked closely to observe any evidence of partiality on Miss Groves' part. She, however, remained pensively impassive, and the two siblings continued in tense silence as the sun rose ever higher.

Groves was anxiously contemplating how he might ascertain the level of his sister's regard for Norrington without betraying his intent, when a knock on the door proclaimed the arrival of Elinor Groves, bearing a familiar-looking letter.

'Theodore, I hope you realise it is nigh on ten o'clock, and the St Brunnhilde is docking today, so there will be great commotion at the dock. Does not the Commodore need your assistance?' she chided, passing over the thick envelope.

'Not that I am aware, no, Ellie,' replied her husband, deftly breaking the seal and reading the contents, feeling his heart sink.

'Well?' Elinor asked curtly. 'An invitation, is it?'

'Indeed. Friday next. It seems we have been cordially invited to Miss Elizabeth Swann's betrothal.' Groves' voice was full of bitterness and dismay at this turn of events.

'We all?' was Elinor's next question.

'So it would seem. I suspect James suggested this, he is always inviting me to some high-class gathering or other. Most unnecessary, I must say. Anyhow…I must own I am disinclined to attend this party.' Groves folded the letter resolutely, and challenged his wife with a defiant tilt of his chin to contest his decision.

'Do not be ridiculous, Theodore,' Elinor said equally ferociously. 'It will be a wonderful introduction to good Port Royal society, and I have no doubt Alicia will be very anxious to attend such an affair. A party, at the Governor's house! Just fancy!'

Miss Groves, if she felt such an eager anticipation, deigned to show it, but simply placed her teacup on her saucer composedly. Elinor Groves, however, took this as an affirmative answer, and began bombarding the younger woman with reports on the latest fashions, and the necessity of impeccable etiquette at such soirees.

Groves realised, resignedly, that he was completely vanquished, and slipped away to commiserate with Norrington.