AN: sad, sad…my friends from Germany have gone home. And my life is still devoid of DMC goodness. However, I cheered myself up yesterday by watching 'Master and Commander: the Far Side of the World' yet again. And for you wonderful people who make me smile with your reviews, here is some Norrington for your perusal… dd xx

22

Norrington was favourably impressed with the size and exterior of the Groves' new home – a large white house fronted with fashionable ionic columns, with the beginnings of wisteria and ivy trickling over the finely carved balconies. He paused a moment after alighting from his carriage, to breathe in the scent of sensuous night flowers and to listen to the magical trickle of a fountain.

In contrast to the serenity of the shadowy gardens, the house itself was bustling. The inviting light of twinkling chandeliers enticed him towards the entrance hall, the huge double doors swinging open to reveal Theodore Groves, in his element as the generous host.

'James!' he exclaimed, advancing resplendent in a teal waistcoat heavy with embroidery to embrace his former superior. 'You look very well…'

'Don't lie, Theodore,' Norrington replied in good humour, handing his overcoat to the waiting butler. 'I'm improving, though…plenty of melons and so on, you know the form…ah, and here is Mrs Groves…you do look charming this evening, ma'am…' he bent low and kissed her hand, trying to focus his gaze on the finely dressed woman before him, and prevent his eyes from shifting to the empty stairs.

'Commodore,' she replied, curtseying neatly.

'Can I get you a drink, James?' Groves asked heartily, motioning him towards the parlour.

'That wouldn't go amiss, I confess,' Norrington said.

'Elinor, do you know when dinner will be served?' Groves addressed his wife.

As Mrs Groves turned to ask the serving-girl, Norrington caught sight of a little movement on the balcony above the stairs, and turned his head to see.

Miss Alicia Groves was carefully, slowly descending the stairs, looking anxious. Norrington felt his breath hitch – though he had known he must see her again that evening, he was not prepared to be faced so abruptly with her beauty. For she was beautiful, with her dark hair loose around her young face, and her gold dress foaming around her shoulders, revealing the perfect skin around her collarbones.

'Ah, Alicia, there you are!' Groves exclaimed as she descended the final step carefully. 'I was beginning to wonder where you'd got to…you spend far too much time preening, sister…'

Miss Groves blushed and looked at the floor, curtseying to the company. Before she could recover sufficiently to greet her brother's guest, the group began to move into the dining room. Norrington was aware that she was very close to him, and wondered if he should offer his arm to escort her into the dining room.

'Are you well, Commodore?' Miss Groves asked with a slightly brittle edge to her voice, as though she had been crying.

'Yes…yes, very well, I thank you,' he replied distractedly, gazing in wonder at the perfect curve of her ear. She felt his stare, and looked up, and Norrington saw that her eyes were red.

'I…I have missed you greatly, Commodore,' she said softly.

'And I you,' he replied as if in a daze. Automatically, instinctively, he reached out and kissed her hand lightly, feeling the velvet texture of her skin beneath his lips. 'I hope,' he continued, his head light and his mouth twisting his words, 'to hear you play later…I trust you enjoyed practising the pieces I sent?'

Miss Groves nodded briefly. 'I liked the Chilcott jig,' she said quietly. 'I would…very much like to play for you…whenever it is pleasing to you.'

Norrington paused for a moment in the hall once she had passed by him into the dining room, and thought how distant his former torment now seemed.

The Groves' dining room was very similar to the Commodore's own – but the difference in the atmosphere was remarkable. Whereas Norrington usually dined alone, by the light of one candle, a rushed meal without a table-cloth or any ceremony, the dinner he enjoyed that evening was a lavish affair worthy of a royal palace.

He watched in wonder as dish after dish was carried out, wafting delicious scents around the room. There were huge hams studded with fragrant cloves, whole salmons glazed with lemons, crystal bowls of crunchy salad, tiny boiled potatoes glistening with herby butter – all manner of good food.

The evening passed pleasantly, Norrington helping himself to the laden dishes, the meal perfectly complemented by bottles of Groves' vintage red wine. The scene was one of great domestic security and contentment, with the warm candle lights twinkling on the fine wine glasses and the dripping jewellery around the necks of the women.

He and Miss Groves shared sly, secret glances, or at least the Commodore imagined they did. He would catch her eye, as she lifted a morsel of crab meat to her small mouth, and they would both smile, and it was as though he could already hear the flowery notes dancing from the pianoforte under her slender fingers. He would pay for it to be removed to his house, he decided in his mad thoughts, and she could wake him each morning with scampering scales and complex vocal exercises.

The neglected morning-room, with heavy dust-sheets everywhere – he would have it placed there, in the streaming sunlight, and it would look well beside his cello, with music scattered all about. He wondered what colour would do for the walls…perhaps a happy, pastoral yellow. And the nursery…blue, perchance? He could hang her sketches there, above the old oak cot he himself slept in as an infant.

Lost in his magical fantasies, he sat in blissful silence, watching as Mr and Mrs Groves bickered good-naturedly and passed condiments to each other. Miss Groves – Alicia, he thought lovingly – was silent in contrast, delicately partaking of the banquet her brother had provided. It scared the Commodore a little to realise that he had been imagining their life together. He was unused to such wild self-indulgence, especially since he was yet to accurately gauge the feelings of his intended wife. His delight was tainted rather as he thought of the misery and humiliation of rejection, and he resolved not to build up his own hopes in such a foolish, madcap way again. He must wait…perhaps a few more hours. Perhaps it would be tonight…he could ask quietly to talk to her…

They were just beginning dessert, an improbably ornate concoction of rich chocolate and exotic fruits, when the scrunch of horses' hooves on the gravel outside was heard.

'Ah! Visitors, at this hour?' Groves mused out loud, half-rising in his chair.

The door of the dining room opened abruptly, revealing Midshipman Appleby, a thin boy of sixteen, exhausted and red-faced, with mud spattered up both legs. Without waiting to be introduced, he rushed up to the Commodore, who had paused in the act of pouring thick cream onto his dessert.

'Please, Commodore…Captain Gillette says I'm to fetch you post-haste…a shipwreck in the bay…you're needed really urgently, sir…' he panted raggedly, smoothing his tousled hair with one hand.

'All right, all right, Appleby, calm down,' the Commodore replied, rising from his seat and folding his napkin quickly. 'I'll be there presently. Mr Groves, Mrs Groves, Miss Groves, I fear I will be able to enjoy your hospitality no longer. I must apologise for this untimely interruption…'

Groves held up a hand, and rose, too. 'Don't apologise, sir. Your loyalty to your duty is, as ever, second to none. Come, I will lend you my horse…' he guided Norrington out of the room.

As he passed through the door, he looked over one shoulder and saw Alicia staring glumly into her bowl, one little hand fiddling nervously with her fork. Sensing his gaze on her, she looked up and met his eyes, and he tried to apologise to her silently. She looked down again, biting her lip.

Norrington felt utterly miserable as he followed Groves through the light rain and the dark to his new stable-block.

'You must come again, Commodore,' Groves said as Norrington mounted the handsome piebald energetically.

'Thank you, Theodore,' he replied from his mount. 'Please…apologise to your sister for me. I so very dearly wanted to hear her play this evening. I…please assure I will write to her shortly.'

He rode off quickly, fearing he had betrayed something of his tumultuous affection for Alicia to her brother, and wondering whether that would be altogether a negative thing.

AN: I quite like Appleby, despite the fact that he's only in it for about 10 seconds. He's like a little brother or something…anyway, the next chapter sees a trip to church and a chance encounter with none other than the smarmy Freddy Armitage… dd xx