The Gift

Chapter 10: Meld

Setting: Post POTC 3

Characters: Norrington/ OFC

Plot: A fluffy holiday love story. Who knew that James Norrington played the violin?

The 'woolgathering' is a nod to Mrs. N.

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Placing his Capricorn beneath his left arm, he knocked at the door of the music store and a maid answered, leading him up the backstairs into a small parlor.

"Admiral Norristown, welcome," the Italian violin master's lips were stretched into a broad smile which indicated to James all was forgiven regarding their accidental run in on Sunday.

"Mister Gagliano," He bowed to the man and then to the daughter, "Miss Gagliano."

"Admiral Norrington," Her dark eye warm and comforting, "Welcome to our home. May we offer you a glass of wine?"

"Thank you, ma'am."

Lucy smiled, secretly admiring his fine uniform of a white frock coat and navy jacket trimmed in gold naval lace and adorned with brass buttons; cuff heavy.

Their conversation was light as the three drank an aperitif. Yet, Norrington was the Admiral tonight not only in appearance but also in manner and etiquette. His uniform his armor and where this might have pushed most women away, it only intrigued Lucy more. She had a strange urge to strip away his hard, polished exterior; to push aside his brass buttons and dig through his wollen layers to his heart.

"...Miss Gagliano?"

"Sorry, Admiral, I was woolgather," she offered, a blush creeping into her skin.

His lips pushed into a smile, "My I escort you to dinner?" He asked, his elbow crooked.

"Yes, of course!" She answered a bit rushed and linked her arm through his and she could feel his male energy as taunt as a violin E string against her senses.

Mister Gagliano was very engaging with James and it was apparent to Norrington whatever missteps he had taken Sunday afternoon by embracing Lucy were forgiven.

"Sir, Doctor Ingram is here," the maid interrupted their dinner of Italian meatballs, stewed tomatoes and pasta.

Before the Gaglianos could respond, a balding blond head poked around the corner, "Buona sera, Miss Lucy!" The man announced in poor Italian, then adding, "Oh dear, I didn't realize you had company."

Mister Gagliano stood, removing his table napkin with a flourish, "Doctor Ingram," he bowed swiftly, "May I assist you?"

Norrington took account of Lucy's strained expression and then turned in his chair to face the town's physician; a thin Dutchman dressed in scholarly black with moon- calf eyes and a large, protruding nose.

"Doctor Ingram," Norrington bid him a civil, firm address.

"Admiral Norrington, a pleasure as always sir," the doctor bowed, then turning his eyes back to Gagliano, realizing that he was indeed outranked by the Naval officer, "I have come to pick up the cane that I ordered for my oboe reeds. I did not mean to interrupted this...gathering of friends."

Lucy sighed, as she began to push back her chair; she was in no mood to cater to the doctor.

"No, Lucy. I shall assist Doctor Ingram. Come sir, I am done with dinner, let's look over the carving of your reeds."

Norrington stood as Mister Gagliano began to leave the table.

"Admiral Norrington, I have the most delicious dessert wine. Cook will open it for you, please stay and make yourself by pleasant by our fire." Then smiling knowingly to his daughter, "Lucy, entertain our guest."

"Yes, Papa."

Norrington bowed as Gagliano and the doctor exited down the stairs.

"Thank goodness, I've been saved!" She exclaimed.

James raised a questioning brow, "Am I to surmise that Doctor Ingram has more than just an interested in oboe reeds."

"Unfortunately, yes. Not that he isn't a fine man, but," she laughed. "He treats me more like a student of the sciences that a lady he wishes to woo. If I have to hear one more lecture on Newton and the joy he feels when contemplating the generalized binomial theorem, I shall burst!"

James laughed aloud and Lucy rejoice that he seemed more relaxed with the absence of her father.

"My goodness, remind me never to explain the workings of a naval craft to you!"

"No, good Admiral!" She leaned forward, her face serious, "I should enjoy knowing the workings of a naval ship or naval law and codes as you have an easy way with words; much better than our physician. Besides, you don't speak to me as a student or as a woman. You speak with me as... a friend. I could listen to you read from a map and find it of the greatest interest!"

"Dear Lucy," He shook his head, enjoying her compliment. "I shall endeavor not to read maps to you, I promise. Surely friends can find better subjects to converse upon than latitudes and longitudes!"

"I agree." Lucy laughed. "Perhaps over a glass of sherry or bermet we shall think of something else to converse upon?"

"Yes, definitely." Norrington stood, and helped Lucy from her chair, their hands briefly brushing.

Together they toasted themselves nicely by the cracking parlor fire and even in his naval attire, James reflected on how comfortable and cozy he felt tucked in the petite sitting room with Lucy Gagliano by his side on the small sofa.

They conversed for a while on various subjects, hearing Mister Gagliano and the maid move around the house, but being left in private.

"Would your father mind us sitting here together?" It was a bold question, but the sherry was lubricating his tongue.

"I think he intended you to sit in the parlor," she answered, voice innocent.

James smiled into the amber liquid, "I meant, so close on this sofa?"

"Well, I don't know that he's ever caught me sitting on the sofa with a gentlemen before." Tilting her head to the side, "I can either move or we can risk his reaction."

His green eyes were quick and his gaze yearning, "I think we should risk it."

"I would expect a seafaring man to choose risk." She said in a low voice, her fingers entwining over his; her chest rising and falling quickly.

"Calculated risk, madam." James replied, stroking her fingers in return.

"But when you are on a sea and you are tossed about in your little boat amongst a great storm," Lucy began moving closer, lessening the space between them. "Then must you forget the calculations of the mind and trust the instincts of your heart; yes?"

His voice was but an exhale, "Yes."

With her black lashes low, he dipped his head and sealed the space between them with a chaste kiss. It was very brief, and when he pulled back, she raised a hand to rest upon his collar.

"With the heart, James, not with the head," she whispered hotly against his lips, her breath burning him.

Memorized by her words, he leaned in a second time. This time, her soft lips pushed his apart and tongues darting against one another with tentative exploration. Lucy had intended to crack his armor, but under his spell and within his arm, she was loosing her own head as well.

Finally relenting, her blush splotching the soft skin of her chest. "Oh my!" She exclaimed lifting a trembling hand to her lips. "A risk worth taking, indeed!"

Norrington was nearly shaking with desire, his body screaming and then, he grinned broadly, green eyes dancing, "Lucy Gagliano." He said her name with pleasure, "You make me happy."

"And you make me happy too, James." She replied to Norrington as he brought her knuckles to his lips with a swift kiss.

"Marry me." He said quickly.

"Wh---" She drew back a little, "We've only known each other such a short time."

Bound up with an energy that bubbled over from an unknown source, he pressed on, "You are the one who said we should take a risk; that we should listen to our hearts." His brow knotted and his voice extolled, "I...I love you, Lucy."

She gasped and withdrew her hand.

He stood quickly and leaning hard against the mantel, "I have been to bold. I appol--"

"No, no!" She stood now, not far behind him and she took his hand, silence filling the room. "Is this where your heart truly lies?"

He turned to her now, those words ringing familiar. "Yes." Not he knew exactly how Elizabeth had felt two years ago when the tables had been turned. Surely, love is mated with madness!

He replied soundly. "I tried to deny it these past weeks, but you warm my heart Lucy." Then stroking her check, his words sounding a little more desperate than he intended. "I would be a good husband to you."

"James," she took his hand and grasped it solidly. "I have nothing to offer you."

"I only ask for your respect and I will pray for your love if you can not give it to me yet." He looked down at her small hands, "A man and a woman must have respect between them to make a husband and wife, and I know we have that." His eyes expressed his fear and Lucy instinctively wished to sooth him.

She was being offered a proposal of marriage to a very young and respected Rear-Admiral of the Royal Navy; a man that she truly liked. Yet, did she love him? Was love important in a marriage? She wasn't sure what love felt like; but respect, she knew that she respected him above all men she knew next to her father.

"Yes, I can give you my respect, James and as for the second," her eyes lowered, she pleaded, "Give me time?"

James nodded and held silent. It wasn't exactly the answer he wished to hear. Did his face show his disappointment?

"I'm doing this all wrong!" Lucy pulled away violently, then placing her hands on her hips, she turned on her heel before James could speak, "James Norrington, you have pulled on my heart strings like no other man, but to give freely those three words," she shook her head in bewilderment, "I don't even know what they mean! Please, I beg you; give me patience to say them!"

"Of course," he replied, still concerned if this was an acceptance of his proposal or a denial.

Then the tears started. "Oh dear! Here I go like a fountain!" She laughed and cried.

"Lucy-", he reached for her and she took his hand in gratitude.

"If you can have me on such conditions, on the hope that I can love, then yes, James." She smiled as tears streamed down her cheeks, "Yes, I'll marry you!"

Returning her smile, he took her into his arms, kissing her forehead. "When can I speak to your father?"

Nicolas Gagliano was surprised, but when he questioned Lucy upon her decision in the matter, he knew right away his daughter was very pleased. The marriage would occur at the end of January giving enough time for Lucy Gagliano to officially finalize her protestant confirmation, for the church to read the bands of marriage and for James Norrington to properly introduce Lucy Gagliano as his fiancée to Port Royal society.

"Damn it, I'm a lucky man!" He told himself as he nearly skipped down High Street whistling Handel's Hallelujah Chorus theme to the dark, misty night. He was just past the bakery when he heard footsteps. He stopped and they stopped. He walked, and they trailed behind him; their owner cloaked in night's heavy blanket of fog.

James ducked into an alley. His breathing heavy as he wondered if this could be the Spanish spy that Gillette spoke of? He cursed himself for walking alone on a night such as this in his uniform. It made him an easy target for conspirators against the Crown. The footsteps ceased and then started again in a run.

Suddenly, a form passed the alley in which Norrington was ensconced, with one arm he reached out and grabbed the man; easily tossing him against the brick wall. Then taking out his sword, he drew the his blade against his neck.

"If you value your life, speak!" He declared in anger, nostrils flaring. "Why are you following me?"

The short wiry man in worn clothing balked in a language that resembled German and finally, exclaimed, "I'm not following you, Kapitän."

Norrington pushed his against the wall harder, and the man sputtered. The blade about to cut, "Speak the truth this time!" He warned, green eyes as cold as Toledo steel.

"I only wished to know if," he coughed and mumbled in a thick accent, "If you have work at the fort? I am carpenter recently arrived from Berlin, Kapitän."

Norrington snarled. The second answer of the night that he didn't agree with. Taking the man by the collar he hauled him roughly into the street. Thankfully two red coats of his acquaintance were passing by.

"Sergent Mullroy, take this man to the fort." Then looking down at the skulker, he added with a cold, English sneer, "Show him our accommodation for traders to the Crown."

"Oh, aye sir," Mullroy saluted, and took the cowering man by the collar.

"Murtog, you will give me safe passage home." His eyes now scanning the dark waters of the Caribbean sea, a black mist rolling in from the midnight tide. "There is a foul wind in these water and I fear its bears a treasonous odor."

Murtog looked throughly confused upon hearing the Admiral's mysterious words, but he saluted merrily all the same, "Yes, sir!"

And with an uneasy step, Norrington adjourned home.

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