Author's note: This is going to be a little bit tacky...I just couldn't resist the temptation of putting a quote from Shakespeare's Midsummer Night's Dream in (which I don't own by the way - miles away from that kind of brilliance). I'll try to lay low on the cheesy for now on, but sometimes I just feel an urge to write fluff...
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The golden light of the afternoon sun fell inside the room and broke into several different rays, when it hit the window glass. She was dreadfully bored and the silence between them had stretched out so long it had almost become tangible. He was back to brooding again, something he seemed to be doing a lot. Josephine stifled a yawn which she discreetly concealed behind the palm of her hand. When she reached for her cup the springs of the couch on which she sat squealed in protest. The young woman calmly took a sip of the steaming beverage, then set it down on the saucer again.
"When was the last time you've truly been happy, Admiral Norrington?" they had gone back to more formal surroundings and consequentially her manner of making conversation had adapted to them. The feeling of the tight corset against her skin was a ever present reminder of etiquette and very hard to dismiss.
Her unexpected question obviously startled him. He looked at her in wonder, but quickly composed himself again. "Happiness…is a very distant memory."
"How positively dreadful!" She rose from the couch and the fabric of her elaborate dress rustled as she moved towards the window. "But there must be something…anything."
"I'm afraid I can't entertain with any story about a particularly happy memory as of now," Josephine heard him say. Her eyes were basking in the sight that was Port Royal bathed in the light of the afternoon sun.
"You're quite a depressing companion, dear Admiral," the young woman announced and turned around. "Isn't there anything you enjoy doing…a book you love or perhaps…," her feet stopped in front of the pianoforte that stood in the room. She suspected it had never been played on and served purely as a decorative element. Her fingers briefly brushed over the keys to intone a few notes of a popular nursery rhyme. "A certain tune you enjoy hearing?"
She could have sworn the ghost of a smirk briefly flitted over his face. "You're very persistent."
"You qualify for my persistence," she smiled at him fondly.
"A Midsummer Night's Dream," Norrington said finally and to his dismay he had to discover that his answer seemed to amuse her.
"I'm sorry," he had to admit her laughter was very pleasant, warm and clear, "I just didn't picture you to be a man who enjoys comedies."
"As it were, it's not entirely comic in effect," he protested.
"I'm aware of that," Josephine told him a little bit aggravated. She wrinkled her forehead pensively, ere she hesitantly started speaking again, "Love can transpose to form and dignity. Love looks not with the eyes, but with the mind; And therefore is wing'd Cupid painted blind…I love this part, but I can never quite seem to remember the lines."
"Nor hath love's mind of any judgment taste;Wings and no eyes figure unheedy haste: And therefore is love said to be a child, because in choice he is so oft beguil'd," he supplied. For a long time those lines had had a bitter sting to them, because they had unpleasantly reminded him of his own misfortunes in love, but now he could enjoy them for what they were again – just beautiful and poetic words. He didn't asked how this change had come about, he was just thankful for it.
"Yes," Josephine awarded him with a shy smile and to her surprise it was requited by him. What surprised her even more was the effect it had on his face. It made him appear younger, boyish even and there was this delightful, mischievous twinkle in his eye, which was absolutely charming.
"You're a different person, when you're smiling," the words had escaped her lips ere she could rethink them or stop them from coming. Josephine blushed slightly, because of her boldness. She had never paid such a compliment to a man.
Norrington was just about to reply, when their conversation was brusquely disrupted by the arrival of her brother Cutler. He hadn't cared to announce his presence by a knock at the door, instead he had simply stormed in without a warning. His power had made him neglectful of his manners, but there was no one to correct him in that fault.
The expression on Josephine's face quickly changed from startled to annoyed and finally to impassiveness. She walked over to the couch, sat down and reached for her tea again which had by now become tepid.
"I see you're back again, dearest brother," she remarked dryly.
"I wasn't disrupting anything, was I?" Lord Beckett asked sardonically.
"I was merely asking the Admiral whether he'd like to hear me play the pianoforte," she sipped of her tea.
"Unfortunately the Admiral won't be able to enjoy your musical performance, since I have to steal him away from you. There have been some recent changes of events that need to be discussed."
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They were back in Lord Beckett's study again. Apparently it had been decorated according to his personal wishes, because upon entering the room one always felt uneasy, that was at least James's opinion. The dark colours mixed with the mahogany wood of the furniture added to that impression. As did the trophies that hung from the walls, the heads of exotic animals that stared down at him with hollow, lifeless eyes.
Beckett had made himself comfortable in the huge leather chair behind his writing table and asked him to have a seat as well. He had obliged and since then no word had been spoken. James was starting to wonder what it was the other man wanted to discuss with him.
When his vis-à-vis finally started to speak, the impact of his words hit him like a bucket of ice cold water, "I know about you and Josephine." The way in which he revealed that crucial piece of information implied that he felt a certain sadistic pleasure in doing so.
The armchair on which James said had suddenly become very uncomfortable, "I'm sorry, I must have gotten you wrong. There is nothing between your Miss Beckett and me."
"Oh, Admiral, there is no need for pretence! We're far past that. Do you think a man in my position, a man who controls the entire trait on this part of the world, who knows the name of every merchant in the Caribbean and is able to command them, would not notice when his sister tries to steal away to Tortuga?" Beckett savoured the shocked expression on Norrington's face. It was moments like this that made him enjoy life.
"She asked you to accompany her, isn't that right? Quite a tempting over, since she is a woman of considerable beauty and education, any man would be happy…," he emphasized the last word as if it was something extremely obscene.
"My intentions towards your sister have always been honourable," Norrington said indignantly.
"Nevertheless had there not been this unexpected turn of events, you would have come with her, isn't it so?"
Norrington had posed himself this question again and again since yesterday night. Ironically it was only now that he could finally answer it. He could not explain his decision with the aid of reasonable arguments, it was just clear to him that he wanted to go with her, so there was nothing left for him to say but 'yes'.
"I'm not in a position to take this choice away from you, just make you rethink your decision perhaps, because if you actually met up with her tonight, she would be dead before you could reached her."
"You wouldn't! She you're sister!" Norrington had gotten to his feed. The force of his sudden movement made the chair behind him fall over. His mind was spinning with all sorts of troublesome thoughts most of them concerning Josephine's well-being.
"She's only a mere woman, a means to an end. It would be a regrettable loss, but sometimes sacrifices have to be made for the greater good. You understand that your role in my plans is to vital too let you go," Beckett smiled at him maliciously.
"What about her?" James asked worriedly. "Will you leave her alone if I agree to do as you say? Do I have your word as a gentleman?"
"I will order Woodruff to safely escort her to Tortuga," Lord Beckett conceded while he comfortably folded his hands over his chest.
"It is settled then," Norrington nodded grimly, his face by now an impassive mask.
"It is settled and though I don't doubt your word can be trusted, I will assign some men to guard your door to make sure, you remember to keep your promise."
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