29

The Commodore opened his eyes blearily at the sound of Elizabeth entering the room. His headache was worsening by the minute, and he looked longingly at the tonic she held in her hand. He was, however, unprepared for the onslaught that came his way.

'James Norrington!' she hissed furiously, slamming the glass down on the table beside the bed so that his head jarred painfully. 'What on earth has possessed you?'

Norrington swallowed apprehensively. There were merits and drawbacks to Elizabeth Swann's friendship, he decided. She might be an amiable and amusing companion, who essentially knew what was best for him, but she had evidently resolved to run the unsuspecting Commodore's life for him. He groaned quietly.

'Yes, that's right!' she scolded, 'lie there like an angel, a picture of innocence, as though you wouldn't harm a fly, while the love of your life rides home in her carriage, distraught because of your cruelty.'

'I wasn't cruel, Elizabeth,' he said defensively.

'Yes, you were, James. I'd have hit you if you'd treated me like that!'

'Well…see…the point is, she's the sort of person…because she's so gentle and vulnerable and so on…I mean, awful men like me…we take advantage of girls like that.'

Elizabeth snorted dismissively. 'Girls like that, eh?' she brandished a fearsome-looking scalpel at him. 'How many girls like Alicia have you known, Commodore?'

'Well, none…but…'

'Don't talk rubbish then…taking advantage, indeed.' She proceeded to bustle around the room, roughly pulling his bedspread straight and tidying away empty bottles.

'Elizabeth…is she very upset?' Norrington asked, a note of shame and guilt in his voice. He remembered well the stricken look on Alicia's face as she exited the room quickly.

'Yes, for your information, she is,' she replied, eyeing him angrily. 'You have absolutely no idea, do you?' she demanded in exasperation.

'I did what was best,' the Commodore said stuffily, mustering up his energy to meet her furious stare. 'And what was right,' he added.

'That's precisely your problem, James!' she exclaimed. 'Far too much thought about what is right and just, and not about what is good for you. Now…where are you now? She's miserable, you're miserable, and I'm nagging you. Who wins? Noone, James.'

He frowned at her, while she pulled at his wrist, irritably taking his blood pressure. 'Elizabeth…it's just not done to be gallivanting around the Caribbean kissing random women and then expecting lifelong happiness and so on in exchange…' he knew it sounded weak even as he said it.

She seemed to agree. 'Commodore James Norrington. I declare, you seem intent on destroying your own contentment. Why should you not expect lifelong happiness? I can think of noone who deserves it more…'

'Don't start convincing me I deserve her, Elizabeth,' he said quietly, sadly.

'Why ever not? It is my opinion, and my father's, and Will's…and Gillette's, and everyone's really, apart from probably Freddy Armitage…that a long-suffering, hard-working young man like yourself needs happiness and fulfillment…and that the source of that pleasure will undoubtedly be Miss Alicia Groves. I'm sure her brother would agree, should he care to open his eyes and recognize the obvious.'

Norrington knew he had lost, and let his head sink back into the pillows, trying to drown out her biting criticisms. He wondered what had made Elizabeth Swann so very wise. As she talked of his feelings of misery, and of the futility of forever pursuing duty and righteousness, when greater joys were under threat, he knew she understood the emotions that moved him…and those that moved Miss Groves, too, completely. It really would not have done to be married to such a wise wife. He smiled to himself.

'James, it isn't funny! You've destroyed that poor girl…heaven knows she's tried to show you often enough how she feels…and what is she to think if you kiss her one moment and push her away the next…can you imagine her confusion? If I didn't know better I'd say you were severely concussed.'

'I am well, thank you, madam,' he said through gritted teeth, as she began to tap his head like a boiled egg.

'No, you're not,' she snapped. 'You are completely insane to let a girl like Alicia Groves out of your sight, and your back is still unfit for you to walk. But let me tell you…' she pointed a finger vehemently '…as soon as you can walk you must go and apologise to her.'

'A-apologise to her?' he asked incredulously. His life seemed to be comprised of mistakes and apologies.

'Yes,' she said primly. 'Tell her you have reconsidered your actions, and that, upon reflection, you find them to be a true portrayal of your feelings for her. That should suffice, I think.'

'Miss Swann,' Norrington asked in complete exasperation, 'may I not be responsible for my own marriage proposal?'

'I never said you had to propose, Commodore,' she said teasingly. 'And even if you intend to, I think it might be prudent to have some assistance. The last one was a bit of a disaster, I think you'll agree.'

The Commodore narrowed his eyes at her, but accepted the glass of tonic with good grace.

'I really do not know why I allow you to push me around like this,' he sighed as he set the empty glass down again.

'Because I know what is best for you, Commodore,' she replied more softly, fluffing his pillows gently. He smiled bashfully at her, and a small smile from her reassured him that their friendship was still intact, that she trusted him to do the right thing now. The right thing for himself. She pressed a soft kiss to his cheek and left the room, leaving Norrington alone to think.

The Dutch smugglers that had attacked the town had certainly messed him up, he ruminated. His back had been badly injured by shrapnel or by a manic blade, he could not tell – an injury he had ignored in the thick of the fight until he had collapsed from blood loss. And now he faced several more weeks out of action, lying listlessly and pointlessly in bed.

And then blasted Elizabeth had put ideas into his head, ideas he knew were for the best. He recalled his recent heartaches and troubles over Miss Groves: the panic as he realized she had been swept overboard, the feel of her wet arms clasped tightly around his neck as he laid her softly down. The rage he had felt, that drove him to hastily challenge Armitage. The shame of crouching by the roadside, crying hot, inevitable tears over her.

He knew, deep inside himself, that he had never experienced such turmoil over any other living being. The only solace from this misery is her, he thought. She alone could rescue him from the limbo in which he found himself – flitting from emotion to unstable emotion, neglecting his duty in favour of thinking of Alicia.

And once he had realized what he had known all along, that Elizabeth was right in championing an engagement between them, he cursed the injury that would keep him in bed for another fortnight at the least. He longed to rise from his bed and run barefoot to the plantation, to throw himself at her feet and clutch at her dress and beg for forgiveness, as he had known all along he must.

He drifted into lethargic sleep, and dreamt of burning plantations, and Alicia's feet as she sat beside him on a sand dune on Santa Maria, and the mud spattered up her dress from the long, brave ride to his house.

AN: and that's all, folks. For a week, at least. But I promise you, the proposal is perilously near. Featuring rhododendrons, mischevious!Gillette, plenty of neat gin and poor, clueless Norrington, it promises to be the event of the year. Well, ish. Lots and lots of love, dd xx