At last, they've gotten to England! I hope you all like this chapter. It's been a rough ride (no pun intended) and the story has made a lot of changes (to be seen later). James Norrington is so freaking hard to write!
As soon as the lookout had shouted "Land ho!" Cate had been excitedly looking port side at least a hundred times a day. Norrington told her it would be at least a day through the English Channel before they would port at Brighton. At last, England! Cate walked about chattering senselessly, giggling like a schoolgirl and had taken to bouncing on the balls of her feet when she wasn't flitting here and there.
Norrington was glad they had finally reached their destination. It had been a long journey, and the men were restless to be on shore. Yet watching Cate's elation made him realize that he had grown accustomed to her being near him. He'd gotten used to her shy questions, her girlish smile whenever she talked to him. He'd gotten used to her poorman's accent, her slang, even her blush when she realized she'd said something she shouldn't have. In the refreshing knowledge that he had finally achieved his goal, there was a sense of sadness. She wouldn't be there anymore. He supposed it was him just being a silly, sentimental bastard.
They ported late in the afternoon at Brighton, and the crew started getting agitated even as they went about their docking duties. Norrington straightened his better coat and tucked a stray lock of hair behind his ear. Damn thing never would stay in the ribbon he had wrestled with for the past quarter of an hour. Running his hand over the thick stubble on his chin, he snorted at himself in the small looking glass. "You dirty bugger," he murmured to himself, "you need a bath and a good shave, terribly."
Cate had been on deck waiting for him, trying not to fidget with the ribbons of her hat. Brighton looked awful big. Imposing, inviting and frightening were the only words she could think of. Norrington came out of his cabin and turned to address the crew, his tri-cornered hat in his hands.
"As soon as your duties are complete, the entire crew is granted shore leave," Captain Norrington announced. The crew cheered and set about their work with renewed fervor. Fletcher made pretense of going back down into the hold and paused, watching his superior approach Cate, place his hat on his head and offer his arm to her with a smile. Cate smiled sheepishly at him, blushing as she shyly took his arm and was escorted off the ship. Fletcher cackled to himself. They made quite a pair.
"I have a friend who owns a clean, respectable inn here in Brighton," Norrington was saying as they walked up the street. "I was...thinking perhaps you might be able to stay with him and his wife while you locate your family."
Cate paused, taking in this information, focusing on her companion instead of the beautiful buildings they were passing by. "Respec'able? An inn?" she asked nervously.
"Not all taverns are breeding places for disreputable men, Cate," he responded softly, slowing his stride to look at her. He knew what she was thinking, and didn't want her to imagine he was taking her back to the same situation she had just escaped. "There can still be honor in boarding and feeding travelers."
There was another pause as Cate looked up at him. She felt so lost, so frightened and alone in this new place. She didn't belong here, and couldn't have possibly come this far without help. Looking in James' eyes, he saw his concern for her, and also a comfort. He wasn't the sort of man to simply brush her off upon a blackguard. "I trust ye," she said, simply.
After walking awhile in silence, Norrington stopped before the door of an inn that looked like it could have used some paint. Cate looked up at the sign hanging over it, a sailor in a longboat who smiled. Norrington looked down at her with a comforting smile. "It's changed from when I was last here," he admitted, feeling a little self-conscious. "A little weather worn, I will say."
Norrington allowed her to enter the building first, scanning the room and praying for a familiar face. It looked the same as he remembered it. A few tables and chairs had been rearranged, but other than that, it only looked a little older. Norrington smiled. Just like him.
"James Norrington, you old dog, good to see you!" a happy voice rose from the back of the inn. A man a little younger than the Captain made his way around the counter and pulled Norrington into a firm embrace, laughing all the while. "I haven't seen you since the Navy shipped ye out to that settlement in Port Royal!"
"Issac Cuthbert. It's been a long time," Norrington smiled back, the corners of his green eyes crinkling with joy. Catherine decided she liked to see him smile. It made him look younger, and not as tired and defeated. He actually looked happy.
"And welcome miss..." Cuthbert stopped short, his eyes widening when he saw her. Catherine self consciously wiped at her dirty face. She hoped she'd cleaned up at least a little, but she knew her appearance wasn't what respectable folks were hoping for. God, for a good bath!
"James, you sly thing, you've gone and got married!" Issac fairly leaped into the air. "Why didn't you write and tell us?"
Norrington hung his head, rubbing his neck sheepishly, the tired and defeated look creeping back across his face. Cate stepped away from him, feeling the close vicinity she'd kept to his person had somehow violated the proud stature of the captain. She was ashamed she'd brought this upon him, once again feeling alone and out of place. She didn't belong here, especially in the company of so kind and honorable a gentleman as Captain James Norrington, and it was only compounded by this Cuthbert man's assumption.
"Issac, dearest," a feminine voice spoke softly near the innkeeper. Beside Cuthbert stood a woman with golden hair pulled back tidily by pins and combs, her sympathetic blue eyes resting on Cate in her discomfort, and her soft pink lips slightly curled in a sisterly smile. Issac suddenly looked more closely at Norrington's body language and the way Cate was quietly shuffling her feet and hugging her arms to herself. His laughter subsided then.
"James, it is good to see you again," the woman smiled quietly. "But Issac is right. Why didn't you write to tell us you were coming back home? Are you in trouble?"
"Not I," Norrington amended. "It's a long story. It'll need some tea, I think, and possibly some good sherry."
About an hour and a half later, in the kitchen of the inn where Issac and his wife listened to their friend and his young charge over tea, Cate's story unfolded and Norrington's proposition was made. James did most of the talking, while Catherine simply sat and enjoyed the good English tea, taking great care with the pretty ceramic cups so as not to break them. Issac's wife, Abigail, made bread and kept a vigil it seemed over Cate's cup of tea, always making sure she had enough to go with her biscuits. The poor girl looked like she could use the company of a good family, in Abigail's mind. Her eyes were very pretty, and her smile too, when it could be coaxed from her.
"Her mother's family is from Brighton, or near here," Norrington was saying. "But until she finds them, I had hoped she would be able to stay with you and perhaps help with what duties you need doing around the inn."
"Well," Issac said after looking at his wife in a silent conversation. "Seems your coming here with Miss Cate was a bit of a godsend, really. See...Abby here's just got into the family way, n' we'd been lookin' for some hired help. But seein' as we can't give the best wages to a hired girl, we never really went to inquiring after anybody."
There was a silence in which everyone digested all this information.
"But listen here, Missy Cate," Issac said, looking at Catherine with a friendly grin. "If ye help my Abigail about in the kitchen, and help serve the tenants, I promise you'll be fed n' given a warm, dry bed t' sleep in."
Cate broke into a childish grin that threatened to become a thankful sob. "Thank ye, Mister Cuthbert," her voice quivered. Norrington smiled, thanking his old friend with his eyes.