AN: I am so confused…it thought the release of DMC, with all the Scruffington goodness within, would lead to less interest in the Commodore-ish incarnation of Norrie, rather than more. But I opened my email inbox this morning, to be fairly bombarded with reviews. It fair brought a tear to my eye, I tell thee. More of the same, please, and I will love you all forever. And I majorly love this here chapter, though I say it myself. Caring!Norrie…hard to beat. Love, dd xx

And classicslover, this is for you. You never fail to brighten up my day!

18

The weather had brightened considerably by the end of that week, so that Norrington was able to ride the short distance to the Royal Oak, rather than order the cumbersome carriage.

News of the disastrous return journey from the island had spread rapidly through the town, but of far greater interest to the female population of the port were the Commodore's heroics in rescuing Miss Alicia Groves from certain death. The rumours swelled to such great proportions that many were convinced he had wrested her from the jaws of a gruesome sea monster in order to bring her safely back home.

Norrington hoped Miss Groves was aware of the true situation, and that she had disregarded these romanticised rumours, as he rode up to the door of the inn to be greeted by a rather dishevelled looking Groves.

'Good God, Groves, you look a sight,' Norrington said bluntly as he dismounted.

'I have been minding my sister as she slept, Commodore,' Groves replied, summoning several stable hands to tend to the magnificent stallion.

'She is not much improved, then?' Norrington kept his voice as steady as he could, for his heart was racing a little, although he chose to attribute this to the ride from his estate. He had visited earlier in the week, to be told that Miss Groves was running a high fever and was far too ill to receive visitors.

'The fever has abated a little,' Groves explained as they climbed the narrow stairs up to their suite, 'and Elinor has been wonderful in caring for her…Doctor Phillips is anxious that we move out of the town as soon as possible, for the benefit of the country air.'

Norrington nodded. 'I fear for her, Groves,' he said candidly. 'She is young, but I worry that her constitution is not robust enough for this climate.'

Groves dropped his voice as they stood outside the makeshift hospital. 'Frankly, Commodore, I intend to move to the estate I have purchased by tomorrow evening. She will not last in such surroundings…' he gestured at the tightly packed houses in the streets outside.

Norrington removed his hat as he entered the room behind the anxious brother. Miss Groves was propped up on deep feather pillows, and well covered in colourful blankets and a silk bed-jacket. These vivid fabrics only served to accentuate the unhealthy pallor of her skin, and the dull gleam in her red-rimmed eyes. She looked entirely exhausted, and it was all the Commodore could do not to cross to her side and embrace her.

She lifted her head laboriously as they entered the room, and seemed somewhat happier to see Norrington, for she attempted a smile. Elinor, sitting with a bowl of water and cooling sponge by her bedside, and looking as dishevelled and drained as her husband, rose to greet the Commodore.

She stood close to the two men to explain the circumstances. 'Commodore Norrington,' she whispered fretfully, 'I am sure Alicia appreciates your visit very much…but you must not mind if she is unable to receive you for long. As you see, she is still gravely ill. I hope Theodore has informed you of our…intentions…' she bit her lip and glanced at her sister-in-law.

'Yes, indeed, madam,' Norrington replied in a low voice, taking in the rumpled clothing and tear-tracks on the face of the woman before him. 'I understand entirely, Mrs Groves. If I can be of any assistance…I wish to express…nothing will be of any inconvenience if I can secure Miss Groves' return to full health.' He gazed intensely at Mrs Groves, wondering if she understood the affection which moved him to pledge such great dedication.

Instead of replying, she sniffed loudly and turned away to hide her tears. Glancing uneasily at her husband, Norrington saw that Groves indicated he should approach the invalid.

Slowly, he sank down in the hard chair next to her bed, placing his hat on his knee. With a great effort, Miss Groves turned her head towards him and smiled again, her cracked lips barely lifting upwards. She raised her hand to her brother and waved weakly.

'You wish to be alone, sister?' Groves asked in confusion.

'Please…please…' she whispered almost imperceptibly. Her voice was hoarse and it was evidently a struggle for her to speak.

Groves looked uneasy, but, glancing at his wife, complied with Miss Groves' request and left the room behind Elinor, throwing a concerned look loaded with meaning at the Commodore before he closed the door quietly.

There was silence in the sick-room, during which Norrington looked uncomfortably at his knee and registered the difficult, heavy way in which Miss Groves breathed, a long, rasping sound that spoke of her dangerous fever.

'Miss Groves…I cannot express how distressing it is to see you in such a state of poor health,' he said, still gazing at his lap. 'I am…so very sorry that my ineptitude…my negligence allowed for your fall…I have already assured your brother of my very real wish to ensure your full recovery by any means possibly…I hope…I hope you will accept my sincere apology…and my wishes to see you returned to your former vivacity and…beauty.' He felt, for once, that he did not regret his somewhat forward words, and looked up to see her reaction.

He was alarmed to note that she was crying silently, and trying to speak. She motioned hopelessly at a glass by her bedside, and Norrington was only too happy to raise the chilled glass to her parched lips and let her drink of the refreshing water.

'Please…' she begged again. 'No…no apologies, Commodore. I…I owe my life to you…and…I could not owe it to anyone better…' her tears were still falling as she spoke, and Norrington, his heart racing and his head spinning wildly, suddenly felt emboldened.

He reached a hand out slowly, as he had done in the solitude of his office, when she had lain, soaking wet and trembling on the couch, and wiped away her tears gently. He ran a tender thumb over her lovely, wan cheek, and hesitantly stroked her jaw, also dampened by her unchecked tears.

Strengthened by the water, or by his touch, Norrington knew not which, Miss Groves raised a hand to beckon him closer. He leant in towards her hushed voice.

'They are taking me away…' she said with a great effort, and with great sadness.

'I know,' he replied solemnly, in an equally quiet voice.

She hesitated, and looked into his green eyes, and saw concern and undefined affection. 'You will write to me, Commodore?' she asked shyly, her weak voice cracking a little.

'Every day,' he promised, his soothing hand stopping lightly on her high cheekbone. 'And…when you are fully recovered…I will visit you at your new plantation.' He smiled kindly at her.

'Thank you…' she whispered, suddenly embarrassed to be so close to him. 'Thank you, Commodore…for….for being so good to me, always…' Norrington sensed that she was exhausted by their exchange, and rose slowly, bending over her still body to kiss the hand resting on the bedspread.

As he exited the room, she was already falling into the throes of sleep, and he was aware that, given her current precarious state, this might be the last time he ever saw her alive.

He walked round to the stables, deep in thought, and prayed earnestly that he might have more time to appreciate, as he had not troubled to do before, the character and charm of a woman now most beloved to him.

AN: so, he's finally admitting his feelings to himself. That it took him 18 chapters is fairly indicative of the male psyche. Strewth. Much Pride and Prejudice-style letter correspondence is on its way. Have fun watching the World Cup final tomorrow, anyone who's concerned. I, sadly, will be playing my cello and handing out drinks instead of cheering on Gianluigi Buffon and his shapely behind. Life can be very, very cruel at times. dd xx