AN: so, here we go, more Norrington bemoaning his lack of social skills. So in that respect he's a lot like me. On another note, let me once again express my extreme gratitude for all your lovely reviews, and once again curse the fact that I still haven't seen DMC. Hmph. Hope you enjoy… dd xx
20
Privately, Norrington was almost certain he knew the identity of the mysterious donor of the pianoforte. Surely during their lengthy and animated discourse at Elizabeth's betrothal party, Frederick Armitage had managed to ascertain far more about Miss Alicia Groves than Norrington had in their stilted and awkward intercourse over the months.
Some of the old insecurities Norrington had set aside in the joy of his renewed correspondence with Miss Groves resurfaced – his fear that he knew so little about the young woman, and she so little about him, that they could never benefit each other. He regretted once more his stiff public reticence that allowed young men such as Armitage to impose themselves on a woman to whom he was becoming increasingly attached, even in her absence.
The days passed sluggishly, with the usual polite, restrained letters being dispatched from both the plantation and Norrington's house, yet there was still no sign of an invitation to dine at the plantation, although by all accounts Miss Groves was in full health and playing an active role in the running of the estate.
The Commodore was alarmed to find that this state of affairs was tormenting him far more than it should have a man of thirty-four with ample life experience behind him. He was unable to understand the emotions which saw him lie awake for hours at a time, staring dully at nothing, trying to recall the exact enchanting shade of her eyes. He would persecute himself with hideous thoughts of Armitage singing romantic duets with her, dining three evenings a week around the Groves' table, a part of the family, while he slowly decomposed in the loneliness of Port Royal.
He began to lose weight rapidly, to neglect his appearance and even occasionally his career in favour of pacing in his room thinking of Miss Groves, or reading Shakespeare's sonnets until his eyes ached from straining in the muted candle light.
All of this he kept secret from Miss Groves in his painfully cheerful letters, and attributed his perpetually worried, haggard expression to the persistent liberty of the notorious Jack Sparrow, when questioned by concerned officers.
However, there was one interrogation he could not avoid.
Three months had passed since the torture of the betrothal celebration at the Governor's house, and Norrington, in truth, when he received Miss Swann's cordial invitation to take afternoon tea one Tuesday, was somewhat surprised that the request had not arrived earlier. It was evidently Elizabeth's great compassion and understanding of his feelings that had postponed any potentially awkward encounters between the two until a later date.
The Commodore dressed carefully for the rendezvous, and rode slowly to the large white house, expecting to feel the customary jolt of desire and nerves as he was shown into the grand parlour, where Elizabeth sat, but instead feeling a great rush of gratitude towards her.
She was dressed in a pale blue dress, much more simple than the blancmanges her father often insisted upon her wearing in public. The dress complemented her youthful figure, and brought out the tints in her hair and the sparkle in her eyes perfectly. Norrington felt how inferior he must look, with his tired-looking face and slightly dejected posture. She evidently saw the marked difference in his appearance, for her radiant face was filled with compassion and concern.
'Come, sit down, Commodore,' she said gently, rising and leading him by both hands to a comfortable winged chair.
'Thank you,' he said gratefully, noting how easy it was, suddenly, to talk to this woman.
They exchanged casual pleasantries about the weather and other banalities until the manservant brought in a tinkling trolley laden with small, light cakes and delicate cups and saucers.
As Elizabeth deftly poured scalding tea into the cups, she scrutinised the Commodore. Norrington felt mildly uncomfortable under her critical gaze.
'You are not well, James,' she said, as though chastising a small child. 'I hope you have not been over-working yourself.'
'No indeed, Miss Swann,' he replied truthfully. 'I own…I have been a little preoccupied of late…which may well account for my rather worn appearance.'
'It would take more than a mild preoccupation to divest you of your regal stature, James,' Elizabeth assured him, passing him a steaming cup, and touching his arm lightly. Rather than jump at the intimacy, he smiled back at her and felt the confidence she inspired renew him.
'Elizabeth…' it was somehow natural to call her by her Christian name after so many years of formality. 'I…I wonder if you could offer me some advice…as a woman.'
Elizabeth positively glowed with pride and satisfaction. 'Ah…I knew there must be an explanation for your sadness, sir. May I be so bold as to presume that the cause of your present distress is…Miss Alicia Groves?'
Norrington, annoyed though he was at having been so quickly understood in such a great secret, could not find it within himself to scowl at Elizabeth. He merely nodded, and waited as she leant in conspiratorially.
'So…I presume you have not seen her since her unfortunate accident?'
'I…I paid her a brief visit before Lieutenant…Mr Groves, I should say, removed his entire family to the country for the sake of her convalescence.'
'And have you corresponded with the young lady in her absence?'
'Indeed I have.'
Elizabeth sat back in joy. 'James…this is wonderful! I simply knew she would be the one to make you happy. My father agreed…when he saw you together at the party, he confided to me…he said "Elizabeth…now that is a perfect match." And now I find we were both correct.' She beamed happily.
'A perfect match?' Norrington stared dejectedly into his tea. 'I fear not.'
'Any why this uncertainty, James?' Elizabeth demanded. 'From what I hear, she is very taken with you. And such a lengthy correspondence…I am sure she feels your absence as keenly as you do hers.'
'I cannot share your optimism, Elizabeth,' the Commodore replied. 'I fear…her friendship with me is the result of gratitude for my rescue of her.'
'Nonsense, James!' his companion said, wiping her mouth daintily after biting into a small piece of angel cake. 'Did you not mark the way she held herself in your presence long before that disaster? I must boast, James…I was entirely right in supposing some partiality from the lady in question. Was I not?'
'But…we have nothing in common…we have such vastly different intellects and interests…and I…my character, my temper…I am hardly an agreeable and pleasant companion.'
It was Elizabeth's turn to be silent at his insecurity and self-loathing. 'James,' she said slowly. 'Please listen to me, James…a woman such as Alicia Groves, shy and delicate as she is, could want for no better companion in life than yourself. Your strength and great compassion will balance her withdrawn character perfectly. And besides…though you may not know every small nuance and particular of her interests and tastes at present, surely married life is the ideal state for you to explore each other's habits and preferences at your leisure.' She sipped at her tea sweetly, looking intensely at the Commodore as she did so.
He, meanwhile, was choking on his own tea. 'Married life, Elizabeth? I never said I wanted to marry the girl…I have only known her four months!'
'Don't be silly, James,' she returned, raising her eyebrows. 'Why else would you trouble yourself so over a woman, if not because you have intentions for a permanent connection? Even if,' she added thoughtfully, 'you have not yet admitted these intentions to yourself yet…'
Norrington was silenced by her assured tone of voice. He chewed his biscuit, deep in contemplation. Elizabeth's words had caused a blinding revelation…a sudden realisation that, subconsciously, he had indeed been thinking of Miss Groves as a partner for the rest of his life.
It was odd, he thought, that his idle imaginings had placed her more far firmly and accurately into the framework of his life than his visualization of Elizabeth, in the distant days of his infatuation with her. It was clear to him now, sitting beside her comfortably and rejoicing in her sisterly affection, that any romantic love he had felt for Elizabeth Swann was outshone and surpassed by the shattering devotion he now recognised.
He looked shrewdly at his former fiancée. 'Elizabeth…' he said slowly, 'I must thank you…for teaching a foolish old man things he should have had the sense to know himself…' he smiled wryly.
She returned his smile. 'You are not old, James. You are a wonderful man, and will make a wonderful husband…and if Alicia Groves has not wisdom enough to see that, then she does not deserve you.'
The sunlight streaming into the large parlour, sparkling from the silver tea set, seemed delightfully appropriate for the great contentment Norrington felt flooding into his soul. He drained his cup and rose.
'Elizabeth…you are…you have wisdom far, far beyond your years,' he said warmly. She rose to stand close to him, smiling tenderly. 'Look at us now…you knew, Elizabeth Swann, you knew what was right for the both of us…and…things might have transpired so differently…I…I owe my present happiness to you. I realise that you have long been a sister to me…'
Once again, he felt her young arms around his neck, but this time in tender, tempered affection, an embrace that promised life-long friendship and comfortable companionship. He did not draw away, but lifted one hand to touch her thin shoulders, realising he had not held a woman in such a relaxed fashion since his cousin nearly a decade ago in rainy England.
'James…I feel my own happiness is complete now I see you about to find your life fulfilled,' she whispered gently in his ear.
They stood apart from each other, wishing each other well without any of the former discomfort. Norrington rode away from the house with his head clear, save for a new resolution to woo Miss Groves with definite intent, and with no more reserve and avoidance of feelings he now acknowledged to have existed for weeks.
AN: okies, the next chapter sees life on the plantation continuing as normal, until Groves invites the man of the moment to dinner. Hope you all have a great day, love dd xx