AN: anger, anger. Grrrrrrrrrrrrrrr stupid lightning fried my Internet connection. How or why, I have no idea! More fool me for living in England, I guess. Raaaa….anyway, as a small apology to you all, bless you, I am submitting three chapters at once. That should keep you going in the case of any other freak weather conditions. Much much apology. Am still fuming.

11

Norrington was sure that both he and Elizabeth were equally relieved to part company. He had neither invited nor encouraged his former fiancée's confidence and intimacy, and he felt plagued rather than blessed by it now, especially as Elizabeth seemed to have decided Alicia Groves would make a fine wife for her discarded suitor.

The crowds in the main ballroom had dissipated somewhat, but the atmosphere was nevertheless muggy with the press of many bodies. Norrington cast his eye about for Groves, so that the two might indulge in laments on their hatred of such social affairs together. Norrington suspected that his young Lieutenant enjoyed these gatherings more than he let on.

Finally, after circling the room surreptitiously more than once, trying hard not to look alone, he caught a flash of the rich purple dress Miss Groves was wearing, and wound his way across the floor to her.

She was engaged in conversation with a gentleman several years younger than the Commodore, and seemed to be deeply interested and involved in his chosen topic. Norrington furrowed his brow in jealous disapproval to see her so animated in the company of anyone but himself, and wondered whether he might reserve another dance without appearing forward. Then, a familiar voice whispered conspiratorially in his ear,

'They make an excellent couple, do they not, James?'

The Governor was looking decidedly worse for wear from the copious amounts of alcohol circulating in the house. He seemed positively enraptured by the idea of another betrothal for the women of Port Royal to dissect and mull over. Norrington, unfortunately, could not share his enthusiasm, but merely agreed coldly.

'Enjoying yourself, James, my boy?' the Governor, noticing the absence of a glass in Norrington's hand, looked around wildly for a servant with a laden tray. The Commodore ignored his foolish question, and continued to watch the young gentleman with Miss Groves, noticing the way he leaned towards her secretively.

The Governor had moved on to slump drunkenly in a corner with another group, and the Commodore was left in brooding silence until Groves found him, and nudged him in the side.

'Cheer up, sir. It's a party, remember.'

Norrington looked scathingly at the Lieutenant. 'I hadn't noticed, Groves.'

His companion giggled a little, and stumbled unsteadily. The Commodore rolled his eyes in despair.

'Who is that young man with whom your sister is conversing, Lieutenant? Have they been formally introduced?'

'Oh, yes,' Groves said passionately. 'That's Freddy Armitage…you know, his father's something big in cotton or something…anyway, he's damn rich, and I can't seem to prise him away from Lissy.' He caught the man's eye and raised his empty glass wildly. They crossed over to the couple, and Norrington bowed stiffly to Miss Groves.

'I am pleased to see you are enjoying the proceedings, Miss Groves,' he said quietly.

'I am, Commodore, I thank you.' It appeared she was not about to impart any further information, and her brother took it upon himself to introduce the two men.

'Freddy, this is Commodore James Norrington…master of ceremonies here in Port Royal…does us all proud, does the Commodore…sir, give me leave to present Mr Frederick Armitage, formerly of Manchester.'

The two men bowed to each other, Norrington with a great deal less flourish than the younger man.

'So, Commodore, I hear we're toasting the health and happiness of your former betrothed tonight, am I right?'

Norrington could scarcely breathe for the man's lack of any tact or propriety. He raised his eyebrows at Groves, who was at any rate otherwise engaged in searching for the drinks servers who had earlier eluded the Governor.

'That is correct, sir.'

'Damn shame, Norrington, I must say,' Armitage continued, shaking his head in faux sympathy. 'Women these days…such flighty things, I'm sure you'd agree? Present company excluded, of course,' he added hastily with a toothy grin at Miss Groves, who smiled back at him brightly.

'I couldn't rightly say, sir, I confess. Miss Swann is in every way an admirable young woman.'

Armitage raised his eyebrows in obvious disbelief. 'Well, man…I certainly shouldn't have let a girl like that run away and marry some farmer…'

'Mr Turner is a blacksmith, actually, sir, and one of the most talented in the region. The British Navy in these parts owes much of its military success to the skilled hands of Mr Turner. Please excuse me.' he bowed curtly and walked briskly away, marvelling at the fact that he had defended William Turner out loud.

Norrington, looking at the grand clock in the entrance hall, noted that it was past midnight, and judged it finally acceptable for him to leave. There were few people in the large lobby, and he enjoyed the cool air and the soothing darkness, the muted glow of candlesticks and marble tiles.

His carriage was only a few minutes in arriving, the valet having predicted his master's hurry to depart the premises. With a final look back at the magic swirl of dancing and romancing, he settled back in the silence and blessed solitude of the cab, and relaxed as he was sped homewards.

He realised as he slowly mounted the stairs and went through the motions of his preparations for bed, that his eyes were dry and aching, and that his feet felt shaky with the effort of standing up for so long. He collapsed with very little regard for decorum or composure on his expansive bed and stared blankly at the canopy above.

It was difficult to recall a more wasteful evening, he concluded pessimistically. He had been forced not only to dance, and endure the drunken exploits of the Governor, but also to watch the future Mrs Turner revel in her joyous betrothal. That she should crown his misery by sitting and commiserating with him on his regrettably single status, was too much to bear. And as for Mr Frederick Armitage, whoever he might be! Norrington, in his typical storm of discontent, bitterly wished him well with Miss Groves, whose demure, introverted character was beginning to grate on his nerves.

It was incomprehensible, the extent to which she persisted on meeting his polite inquiries and admittedly feeble attempts at conversation with cold indifference, and then proceeded to converse animatedly with the next flamboyant cad who walked into the room.

But he was being snobbish again, and he resolved to sleep and think no more of women and their infernal indecision and mystery. It would be prudent to reprimand Groves for his inebriated behaviour in the morning, despite the growing link between the two men. He could not very well vent his frustration on the man's sister, after all, no matter how much she deserved it.

In a thoroughly vexed humour, Norrington shuffled beneath the covers and, after several hours more futile ponderings on the dissatisfaction caused by the evening, he fell asleep.

AN: keep on reading, my patient, patient lil ones…