AN: ah, you legends! I had some truly tear-jerking reviews from the past two chapters – don't know what I've done to deserve you…hope you enjoy this chapter, which I like to think is quite humorous in a gentle Norrington-and-Alicia sort of way…dd xx

37

And so it was settled. The parson was only too happy to oblige the respected Commodore and join him to his young bride in holy matrimony the very next week. Miss Swann was far from happy, and was heard to bemoan the lack of time for preparation to all and sundry.

'Really,' she said to Elinor Groves one morning as the two walked arm-in-arm along the promenade, Theodore Groves' animosity towards his sister's friend having rapidly dissipated, 'it is too bad of James. I am certain he has done this on purpose to vex me. There will be no time to order a proper French chef…and I do not know what Alicia will do for bridesmaids' gowns. He is such a typical man, I declare…all thoughts of ships and weapons and none of society and finesse.'

Elinor laughed as she adjusted her parasol to protect her from the mid-morning sun. 'You do him a disservice, Miss Swann,' she said gently. 'On the contrary, he thinks of nothing but Alicia…for I know she has no wish for a grand spectacle, and is quite content to have a small ceremony for a few close friends.'

'But James is the Commodore of the entire British Navy in this Port! He cannot simply crawl in secret to the altar in such an underhand fashion! People will talk…'

'Oh, Elizabeth, leave the poor man alone,' replied her companion, smiling to herself. 'He condescended to have an engagement ball…now leave him to marry how he wishes.'

Dislike it though she might, Elizabeth was forced to obey Elinor's sound advice, and, indeed, found it rather enjoyable to accompany Alicia to the seamstress to have her simple wedding dress fitted.

Alicia stood on a raised dais, her arms held away from her body, while Mistress Hopkins knelt at the hem of a silken ivory gown, her mouth clamped around several dozen pins which she whipped out periodically to adjust the length.

Elizabeth stood in the window of the workshop, gazing critically at the proceedings and feeling that the dress could do with a great deal more lace, and that the neckline was altogether much too high.

However, when Alicia finally turned around gingerly, for fear of impaling herself on one of the pins, she was forced to concede that her friend looked phenomenally beautiful. She smiled happily. 'Alicia, you look angelic,' she declared. 'You must warn the Commodore, for he is sure to lose his composure if he sees you like that for the first time at the altar. And…oh, you must have a veil! I do believe Papa has mother's in the attic somewhere, and it is trimmed with such pretty lace roses. I am sure he would love you to borrow it.'

Alicia regarded her reflection in the long glass, noting the way the dress billowed around her shoulders and fit snugly around her tiny waist, and, finally, began to look forward to her wedding.

The days passed swiftly as Elizabeth did her best to create a memorable wedding for the reluctant couple. She had succeeded in winning her father to her side, and the Governor had duly pressed Norrington into celebrating the reception at his colossal house, at his expense.

Norrington was at first loath to accept this kind offer, but the Governor insisted. He was quite aware that the Commodore missed his father in England very keenly, and felt it would be a rather great shame not to repay the great service the officer had rendered to the community in some form or another. As the closest to a father figure in the Port, Governor Swann was not about to let the groom feel abandoned on the most important day of his life.

So it was that the two men sat in Norrington's study one evening, indulging in a fine bottle of port, while the Governor bombarded his companion with what he considered to be fatherly advice.

'I think you've made an excellent choice, Commodore,' the Governor said, leaning back in his chair and smacking his lips contentedly.

'Why, thank you, Governor,' replied the other dryly, twisting his crystal glass between long fingers. 'I always make a point of ordering my port from the best vineyards in Oporto.'

The Governor frowned. 'Hmm…I must say, you've changed greatly since you met Miss Groves. You've a confounded flippancy about you these days. I meant, you've made an excellent choice in singling out Miss Groves as your wife.'

Norrington smiled to himself. 'Ah, indeed. Actually, I'm inclined to think it was she who singled me out. I am no expert where women are concerned, as I'm sure you are aware.' He regarded his friend critically over the top of his glass.

'Come now, James,' said the Governor. 'I hardly think we can accuse Miss Alicia Groves of being an expert where men are concerned, can we?'

'I meant nothing of the sort,' Norrington said good-naturedly, recalling Armitage's empty taunts so long ago. 'I simply intended to absolve myself of any…culpability where the formation of this union is concerned. Why, I profess I was entirely ignorant of my feelings for her until she arrived on my doorstep, disheveled and frightened, with twigs in her hair and mud on her dress.'

The Governor laughed at the image. 'No,' he concurred, 'I do believe it is entirely my meddling daughter who must be blamed for this charming little romance.' He nodded sagely.

'Yes,' Norrington replied thoughtfully, staring into the night outside the window with an almost wistful look in his eyes. 'Yes…it was all Elizabeth. From the very, very beginning…isn't it odd,' he said suddenly, as though the thought had only just occurred to him, 'that had circumstances been different, we would now be married…imagine, Mrs Elizabeth Norrington…' he closed his eyes in a mixture of amusement and reflection.

Governor Swann looked more than a little uncomfortable at this new topic. 'Well…I…you know how headstrong Elizabeth is…I daresay you would have been…happy…I tried my hardest, James…but you know how she is…'

Norrington held up a lazy hand, smiling indulgently. 'There is no need for excuses, Weatherby…I am entirely sensible that we would have been a disaster. A rebel and an officer…perish the thought! It's...funny, somehow…I was so convinced I was in love with her…I had known for years, I thought…and then it took me months to realize how much I love Alicia. No, Elizabeth has taught me some very valuable lessons about myself…she has opened my eyes…do you know, I cursed the cruelty that kept us in this tiny town together, forced to meet, forever awkward and blighted by my stupid ideas…the idea that I must have a wife…I used to hate thinking of her, once I knew her true opinion of me. And now…now it is a great pleasure to know that not only am I blessed with the love of a wonderful woman, but that I count among my closest friends one of the wisest, most intelligent young women I have ever met. And…I hope and pray that her opinion of me as a friend is far better than her former opinion of me as a prospective husband. She used to…she used to look so utterly miserable when she smiled at me before…as though she knew she would be made to marry me one day, and the thought of it filled her with dread. And now she embraces me, and shares her secrets with me, and rejoices in my own joy…I suppose I know now, why I was so infatuated with her. It was my cousin, you see…my cousin Philippa in England. She was…such a sister to me…it was…so very difficult to leave her behind. And Elizabeth…Elizabeth was like her, inquisitive and rebellious, and funny, and charming, and oh, so beautiful. I wanted Pip back, you see…but…Pip is irreplaceable, as all great people are. And Elizabeth…to me, now she, too, is irreplaceable…'

Norrington looked up, and found that the Governor was asleep, his port glass tilting dangerously in his hand. The Commodore reached across slowly, and removed the vessel gently, smiling. Perhaps it was for the best that the Governor had not heard his emotional confessions and rambling thoughts.

He looked around his study in the semi-darkness, his friend's heavy breathing the only discernible sound in the huge house. He would have a miniature of Alicia on his desk, to distract him from dull naval contracts, and messy, childish portraits of 'Papa' tacked askew to the wall. Alicia would bring life to the house…huge bowls filled with freesias and wild roses, instead of the musty piles of books.

It would be so refreshing to hear the rustle of full skirts in the hallway outside, and know it was his lovely wife going to the garden to cut some flowers, or else call the children in for supper. He would be working diligently on some map or chart, and she would creep behind him and caress the back of his neck, and ease his heavy mind. And when he rode to the house each day, he would be heralded to the door by the voice of a shimmering piano and a happy gasp of delight before she threw herself into his hungry arms.

And yet…Norrington glanced shrewdly at the sleeping Governor, who was snoring slightly. He thought of the missions to intercept the smugglers, and thought of the smell of fired cannon, and of blood and burning flesh. There was no way to reconcile the brutality of war and the angelic fragility of Alicia Groves, and he wondered with which he would end his life – at the side of the woman who now held him in her thrall, or wretchedly, pitifully, with only the thought of the promise in her eyes to comfort him as he died below decks, in the squalor of a makeshift hospital.

He frowned at his own melancholy, a state of mind quite unsuitable for a man three days away from marital bliss, and began to gather the empty bottles and glasses.

AN: any good? And just a little irrelevant aside, I went to see 'The Wind That Shakes The Barley' t'other day, with Cillian Murphy in it. Go and see it. Really. It's truly great cinema. Just a small random addition there… dd xx