A/N: Thank you so much to everyone who reviewed! But I know there are more people who are reading but aren't reviewing, so if that's you then please leave a review. I would really appreciate it . On another note, I'm planning to get the main plot moving soon, so please bear with me. I've just wanted to keep it believable and not rush things. Now, on with the story!

Chapter Five

With her feet on blessed dry land once again, Rosalie felt like a new woman, despite her blunder with Mr. Norrington on the ship. What on earth possessed me to say such a thing? It took many years and many lectures from her mother and other respectable ladies to finally teach Rosalie some restraint with her tongue. Still, even though she was far too old to do such things, sometimes if a thought stayed in her head to long, it just found its way right out of her mouth. She shook her head. "Bloody fool."

She had been astutely avoiding Norrington since then. It was difficult at first. He had stayed on board with Phillip, helping with the final necessities of the ship. It had been all Rosalie could do not to jump ship as soon as they were within sight of the dock, so she had had some time while she waited by their coach when she didn't have to worry about running into him. But now as they were pushing though the crowds at the docks, she was careful to keep Phillip between them and to keep her eyes looking in another direction. She was just thankful that she wouldn't have to see him again anytime soon unless she chose to.

"Do you have a place to go, James?" Phillip asked as they stood by the coach. Rosalie listened intently but kept her eyes firmly her shoes.

"I suppose I will inquire after the fate of my home and land," Norrington answered. "I don't know if any of my relations in England have had time to come claim my estate." Rosalie glanced up long enough to see him shrug. "If they have, I will have to take the necessary steps to right matters. If they haven't, then I will return to my home as if none of this had ever happened and decide where to go from there."

"Well," Phillip said, "I know some relaxation and a dinner that is not ship's fare would do me well. I'm sure they would you too. Come dine with our family, James. Mother will already have a fine meal prepared in anticipation of Rosalie's homecoming. It will be no trouble to set an extra place."

At this Rosalie jerked her head up. No. It was bad enough that she would have to endure the endless criticisms of her mother and sister throughout dinner. Now Phillip would add the complication of her awkwardness around Mr. Norrington. She would absolutely murder her brother for this.

"I couldn't impose," James began, shaking his head, and Rosalie felt a glimmer of hope. "And I must attend to the affairs of my estate right away."

"I will send one of the servants to Lord Beckett with a letter explaining the circumstances and requesting information," Phillip insisted. "See there is no reason to decline."

Rosalie glared at him. Oh, she would murder him.

Then the inevitable happened, and James finally accepted Phillip's invitation. "Well, a nice meal does sound pleasing."

The ride to the Gillette family home was uncomfortable to say the least. Rosalie sat stiffly against the cushions on one side of the coach. Phillip sat beside her and chattered incessantly about the upcoming dinner, the weather, sailing, and Rosalie wasn't really sure what else. She still silently plotted his murder for placing her in such an awkward position. James sat across from them, politely answering whenever Phillip's mostly one-sided conversation required it. Though, Rosalie could tell that he too was rather preoccupied.

"You've been strangely quiet since we left the ship, Rose," Phillip said as he turned toward her.

"You're strangely observant this evening, dear brother." She gave him a tight-lipped, sarcastic smile and turned back to the window.

"Miss Gillette?" Norrington's soft but deep voice prompted her to look at him. He was leaning slightly toward her, and there was a gentle look in his eye. "I wish to apologize for the way I acted on the ship earlier. I was terribly rude."

Rosalie stuttered and blushed. "Think nothing of it, Mr. Norrington," she finally managed and quickly looked away from his piercing eyes.

"What happened on the ship?" Phillip asked, a questioning half-smile on his face.

Rosalie didn't know what to say. She didn't want to let her brother know that it was really she who had been rude, or at least brazen. But Norrington stepped in on her behalf. "Miss Gillette asked me a procedural question about docking the ship, and I answered unkindly. I was in an ill temper from lack of rest last night and anticipation of finally arriving in Port Royal."

Phillip was appeased. "Well, it happens to the best of us. No harm done. Right, Rose?"

"Of course," Rosalie answered, relaxing a little in her seat. She shot Norrington a brief look of gratitude that she hoped he saw and understood. He returned her look with one of his small, subdued smiles. Perhaps the night wouldn't be as uncomfortable as she had thought.

"So, tell me, Rose," Phillip mused after a couple of seconds of silence had passed, "will you be this restrained at dinner with Mother and Isabel tonight?" He smirked at her. "For some reason, I think not."

Rosalie took off her obscenely large hat and began to fan herself. She glared at him. "You know, Phillip, sometimes I really don't like you."

Norrington muffled a chuckle behind his hand.

"Go ahead and be that way," Phillip replied. "I might invite James to the parlor for a drink and leave you alone with those two lionesses. Then you will have no allies."

"You wouldn't dare leave me alone to be picked over by those vultures!"

James smile wryly. "Lionesses? Vultures? I'm beginning to regret accepting this invitation."

The three of them laughed together, and the uncomfortable air that had settled in the coach when they first entered dissipated. Even the cloud of melancholy that hovered over James seemed to lift as it had during those brief moments on the ship before Rosalie's misstep.

"Oh!" Rosalie groaned. "I don't think I can face Mother's endless criticism or Isabel's barely concealed scorn. Not to mention her two… her two… brats! Yes, I said it! Those children are positively horrid!"

"Rose!" Phillip exclaimed. "You're impossible." He flicked back the curtain that covered the coach's window. "And you better put your hat back on. Here we are."

Rosalie groaned again and began to fidget with her hat and dress. What's the use? she thought. Mother will find something no matter what I do. She brushed a stray strand of hair behind her ear. She was glad to be home, and she loved her mother and sister. Truly, she did. But she just did not see eye to eye with either of them. It was as if, to them, Rosalie was some newly discovered creature that needed to be studied and tutored in the ways of proper humans.

When the coach stopped, Norrington stepped down first, and Rosalie stood to follow. He took her hand to help her down, and when he did, she couldn't help but notice the rough but pleasant feel of his fingertips on her skin. She quickly pulled her hand away when her feet were safely on the ground, and he gave no resistance.

She dallied by the coach until Phillip urged her forward. "Come, Rose," he said, "there's no use in delaying the inevitable."

"There, Benjamin," Phillip said as he handed the folded piece of parchment to his manservant. "Please take this to Lord Beckett's mansion immediately. Tell him that Admiral Norrington has been found and is dining with us this evening."

James stiffened at the use of his title, but he did not correct Phillip. After all, he was still an admiral. At least until he formally resigned.

Phillip looked back at James. "Now, that's settled," he said, "I suspect you will probably receive a reply from Lord Beckett sometime after dinner." They were standing in the foyer, but raised voices from the sitting room caused both men to look to the door. Phillip grimaced. "It seems that poor Rose may need some help."

James followed Phillip through the door and into the sitting room. Although the three women became immediately silent when they entered the room, he could feel the tension in the room as if it were some tangible substance he had to wade through. Mrs. Gillette and her eldest daughter sat on one couch while Rosalie sat alone and straight backed across from them. Her lips were compressed into a thin, pale line, and she stared down at the cup of tea in her hands.

"Phillip," Mrs. Gillette crowed, "my dear, I am so glad you were able to join us for dinner. And that you brought Admiral Norrington with you!" She stood and curtsied to him. "Admiral, what a pleasure it is to see you well! I cannot imagine the hardships you have been through these past months, but we are all overjoyed at your safe return."

"It is kind of you to say so," James answered simply. "And the pleasure is all mine." He could sense that she was fishing for details about his work with Cutler Beckett and Davy Jones and the war on piracy in general, but he would not take her bait and gossip about those things. James had always been loath to gossip, but the real reason he kept his silence was because he knew some of the things he had witnessed in the past couple of years of his life could not be discussed in the sitting room of a society lady.

"Yes, it has been a bleak couple of months in Port Royal," Mrs. Gillette continued. "We thought we lost you. We lost Lord Cutler Beckett and Governor Swann. Not to mention the disappearance of his poor daughter. Although, she was always a wild one that Elizabeth."

James looked away uncomfortably, unable to respond. He had known falling back into society in Port Royal would be hard, but he hadn't expected to hear Elizabeth's name so soon. It hurt. It hurt worse than it did when he whispered it to himself in his solitude. The pain of being stabbed onboard The Flying Dutchman was nothing in comparison.

Phillip cleared his throat nervously and began, "Yes, Mother, well…." But before he could finish, Mrs. Gillette had already turned to other things.

"Rosalie!" she barked sharply. "Don't bounce your foot so, child. It's very unbecoming of a young lady. You must sit still."

James saw Rosalie's cheeks redden, and her light brows drew down angrily. She opened her mouth to speak what James could only assume would be a biting retort, but Phillip once again tried to ease the situation. "James, how could I have forgotten!" he exclaimed in an unnaturally loud voice. He laughed nervously. "I must introduce you to my other sister. This is Mrs. Isabel Newton."

"Mrs. Newton." She stood and curtsied to him, and he acknowledged her with a small bow. She was an attractive enough woman with light brown hair, a clear complexion, and a nice figure. But there was coldness in her pale blue eyes that James found unsettling and a bit repulsive.

"What a pleasure it is to meet you, Admiral Norrington," she said to him with a smile that didn't reach her icy eyes. "I know my husband will be delighted as well. He will be joining us for dinner."

James opened his mouth to offer her the standard polite reply, but just then the sitting room door flew open with a resounding bang. He started and watched, open-mouthed, as a young boy and girl ran into the room like hurricanes.

"Mother! Mother!" the boy exclaimed in a whiney voice. "When will we eat dinner? Mother, I'm hungry!"

"Mind your manners, Leopold," Mrs. Newton chided her son but with no great earnest.

"Oh, look," said the girl, who appeared to be a couple years younger than the boy. "We frightened Aunt Rosalie so that she has spilled her tea." She giggled meanly.

Indeed, Rosalie was furiously scrubbing at a dark spot on the couch, a pained look on her face. James could also see another splattering of spots on the side of her dress as well.

Mrs. Gillette had been laughing good naturedly at the antics of her grandchildren, but upon this revelation she turned her attention toward her youngest daughter again. "Rosalie, how can you be so clumsy! You have ruined my couch and your dress! And that was one of the few that you actually looked suitable in."

Rosalie slammed her cup down and jumped from her seat. There was fire in her eyes, and James suspected Phillip would not be able to dissuade her anger this time. "Forgive me, Mother," she seethed in a tone that suggested that she wasn't at all genuine about asking for forgiveness. "But maybe if Isabel could keep her children in line, this would not have happened!"

Mrs. Newton did not rise to her sister's bait. She looked at Rosalie calmly and took a sip of her tea. "Rosalie," she said soothingly with a small shake of her head, "you know you have always been a clumsy thing. Please do not take your anger out on my children."

"Take my…!" Rosalie spluttered and turned redder than before. "Why!"

Phillip was looking from one sister to the other, looking desperate. James would have found the situation hilarious if it hadn't been so uncomfortable. Luckily they were all saved from further calamity. At that moment, one of the maids came in to announce that dinner had been served.

Rosalie had to bite her lip through most of dinner. Phillip had pulled her aside and given her a harsh look as everyone migrated into the dining room. Then she had shook off his grip and glared at him, but she did make an effort from then on to be more reserved. Phillip was her one and only ally in her family, and she did not wish to lose him. Everyone else at the table chattered somewhat pleasantly, but she and Norrington remained mostly silent.

She watched him as he pushed the food around on his plate, barely eating anything. She had never seen someone whose moods could ship so quickly. It was as if a switch was flipped. He had been pleasant in the coach and had seemed relatively happy when he came into the sitting room with Phillip, but after her mother began speaking of the late governor and his missing daughter, his mood became dark again.

Rosalie looked up from her plate with a silent gasp as something clicked in her mind. Elizabeth. That was the name Norrington had mumbled when she almost ran into him that night on the ship. He had been drunk, she was sure, and his words had been slurred. But she was almost positive that had been the name he said. She would have to ask Phillip about the connection later.

"Don't gape like that, Rosalie," her mother urged. "It's very unbecoming."

Rosalie smiled sweetly even though she was burning on the inside. "Yes, Mother," she replied. Her mother obviously had not noticed the sarcastic tone of her voice and seemed satisfied. Phillip, however, looked at her sharply.

"What?" she mouthed to him silently. He shook his head and went back to his meal.

"So, Admiral Norrington," began Isabel's husband, "what plans do you have now that your back in Port Royal?" Mr. Newton was a rather round man with thinning hair and too small brown eyes. The sight of him often made Rosalie cringe. She couldn't imagine Isabel settling down with such a man, but he was wealthy and from a good family. To Isabel that must have been enough.

"Actually," Norrington began to answer, "I plan to resign my position when I have a chance to discuss it with… Lord Beckett." His mouth twisted around the name as if it repulsed him. "Other than that, I do not know what I will do now that I am back." He laid his fork down on his plate with a quiet clang, and the whole room was silent for a moment.

"Oh, dear," Mother exclaimed, looking reproachful. Rosalie grimaced. Leave it to her mother to make an already uncomfortable situation worse. "Resign your position? What would entice you to do such a thing, Admiral?"

Norrington made a face that was half smile and half grimace. "I have deemed it necessary, Mrs. Gillette." His tone was polite, but Rosalie saw how the skin around his eyes tightened.

"That's truly unfortunate," Mrs. Gillette continued, unabashed. "A handsome man like you in such a respected station: why you could be the most eligible bachelor in Port Royal!" She finished this statement with a very direct look at her youngest daughter. Rosalie blushed furiously and could've crawled under the table if it wouldn't have made a bigger scene.

She glanced down the table at James and saw that his cheeks were slightly pink as well. He cleared his throat and looked away. "I'm sorry to disappoint you, Mrs. Gillette, but I have no plans to get married regardless of how eligible I am deemed to be."

"And why not?" Rosalie's mother laughed. "Are none of the young woman in Port Royal beautiful enough for you, Admiral?"

"Phillip," Rosalie whispered to her brother through gritted teeth, "do something!"

Phillip stood so fast that his chair almost fell over behind him. It scooted across the floor with a loud screech. "Of course James knows there are many beautiful women in Port Royal, Mother," he said as he stood. "But he's had a long and trying journey, and I'm sure he would rather not be pestered about his love life. James, you seem to have finished your meal. Would you care to join me for a drink in the parlor while we await a reply from Lord Beckett?"

Norrington had stood before Phillip even finished speaking. "Yes." He still looked a bit flustered, but Rosalie admired the way he had all but calmed himself. She, on the other hand, was ready to throttle her mother. "If you will excuse me- ladies, Mr. Newton." He nodded to Rosalie as he followed Phillip out of the room. "Thank you, Miss Gillette." Rosalie offered him a faltering smile, but he was already out the door.

"James," Phillip began as soon as they entered the parlor, "I'm so sorry…."

James cut him off. "That drink you mentioned, Phillip?" He knew his tone was curt, and inside, it bothered him to be rude to someone who he truly cared for. But he had taken all he could stand in one night.

Thankfully, Phillip produced two glasses and a fine bottle of scotch immediately. He poured and handed one glass to James. He lifted it to his lips and tossed it back without a word or a hesitation. The bitter liquid burned all the way down, but he did not grimace. He set the glass back down on the table and looked at Phillip expectantly.

"More?" the other man asked skeptically.

"Please." James threw back the second glass just as he had the first then nodded. "Thank you." He sighed and stared down at the empty glass in his hand, hating himself.

"James," Phillip started again, "I'm sorry you were subjected to that. Sometimes my mother… well, she only has one thing on her mind. And that's to find a suitable husband for Rosalie."

James shook his head. "I pity Miss Gillette."

Phillip laughed mirthlessly. "Yes, so do I." He paused. "She would murder me if I didn't assure you that she had no part in that. Truly, Rose despises Mother's games."

"Yes, I thought she looked just as uncomfortable as I. She needn't worry. I know how mothers can be sometimes."

Phillip nodded. Then the door swung open to admit Benjamin, Phillip's manservant. "Admiral Gillette," he said, "Admiral Norrington, I have a return letter for you from Lord Beckett. He asks that you read it immediately." He handed the letter to James.

It read:

Attn. Admiral Norrington:

First of all, I would like to express my pleasure in your safe return to Port Royal. Though we have never met, I have no doubt that you were a loyal servant to my late brother during his time in command over the E.I.T.C.

That being said, I would like to meet with you immediately to discuss the future of E.I.T.C. in Port Royal and your position and responsibilities therein. I request that you come by my quarters at Fort Charles upon receiving this letter.

As to your inquiry, I have not yet settled the affairs of your estate as no family has come to claim it or your possessions. So it would seem, you may continue to reside in your home with no problems as if none of this ever happened.

I look forward to meeting with you straightaway. We have important matters to discuss.

Lord B. Beckett

East India Trading Company

James sat back and rubbed a hand across his forehead. The very tone of the letter made his stomach turn. The young Bartholomew Beckett already seemed eerily like his elder brother: pompous, rude, and assuming. James felt as if he were being pulled back into a situation that he did not wish to be in. Not this time, he thought angrily. He slammed the letter down on the table with a harsh thump. He would meet with Lord Beckett if for nothing else but to resign his position. When he was no longer a servant of the British Royal Navy and the East India Trading Company, he would no longer be subject to the manipulations of Beckett. It was what he should have done last time. But that was finished. This was his chance to set things right.

"Phillip," he said, "I'm afraid I must be going. Lord Beckett wishes me to report to Fort Charles immediately." He paused and looked at the glass that still sat inches away from his hand. "But first I believe I need one more drink."

"Ah, Admiral Norrington, it's so nice to finally meet you." Lord Bartholomew Beckett did not stand when James entered his quarters at Fort Charles. He was a small man, like his late brother, but he was young and, James supposed, moderately attractive. Still, James didn't know if his mind was poisoned against the whole Beckett family, but he knew right away that he did not like the man. His small black eyes were shifty, darting from place to place and never quite resting on James'. James never liked a man who could not look him in the eye.

"Lord Beckett." James nodded curtly. "You wished to see me."

Beckett looked down and shuffled some papers. "Yes, well," he said after he cleared his throat, "my brother's unfortunate death, the nature of it being what it was, has left me with quite a mess. Most of the Pirate Brethren are still at large, and Port Royal and the E.I.T.C. are being mocked on all the corners of the earth for our inability to eradicate these… pests." He paused and finally met James' eyes. "Some of what transpired during my brother's efforts to do away with these pirates is still vague and somewhat inexplicable to me." He put up his hands defensively. "I'm not going to ask you to explain everything that happened. What is important to me is simply this: I want every pirate here with a noose around his, or her, neck before we become the laughingstock of the world. I know that you were… closely involved… in the affairs my brother conducted. I wish for you to be my counsel, my… right hand as it were, in my endeavors."

For a moment, James could only gape at the other man. Cutler Beckett's correspondence with his younger brother must not have hinted at any of the animosity between the two men. Or maybe it had, and Bartholomew Beckett simply wished to take advantage of James as his brother had. "Before you go on… Lord Becket, I must say…." James began, but Beckett continued his speech as if James had said nothing.

"I know what it once meant to you, Admiral, to be the scourge of piracy in the Caribbean. Why not take it further?" Beckett stood. "Why stop with just the Caribbean? My brother may have been an ambitious man, but I…." He paused and smiled to himself. "Well, I have bigger things in mind."

James glared at him. Could this man be worse than Cutler Beckett? Was it even possible? "As I was saying," he continued firmly, "before you go on, I believe you should know that I would like to resign my position as admiral." Even though he had been planning to make this announcement, it felt as if the breath had been knocked out of him. The enormity of his decision was settling over him, and he was afraid, more so than he could ever remember. But he could not turn back now.

Beckett gaped at him. "Resign?" he scoffed in disbelief. "Why would you ever do that?"

James gritted his teeth. Why must everyone ask me that question? "It is something I must do." He drew himself up and looked Beckett firmly in the eye, daring him to contest his decision.

After a moment, Beckett tossed his head back and laughed. It was a cruel laugh, and James clenched his fists, feeling his fingernails biting into the skin of his palms. "Oh, I see," Beckett said. "Haven't you done this before, Admiral? Or should I say, Mr. Norrington? This isn't the first time you've given up your position. Where will you go? Back to Tortuga for rum-soaked nights in whore houses?" His tone was mocking, and it took all James' restraint for him not to unleash his fury on the smaller man. He had not known that his previous fall from glory had been a topic of gossip.

"I don't believe it's any of your…." He trailed off. Beckett had stood and something caught James' eye. Something familiar.

Beckett followed his gaze. "Ah, this?" He pulled the sword, James' sword, from its scabbard. "Yes, it was discovered among the wreckage of the ships after the battle at Shipwreck Cove. How fortunate that it was saved and returned here to my care." He looked appreciatively at the fine weapon then placed it firmly back in its sheath. "Sorry, Norrington," he continued with a look of feigned pity, "but a sword like this does not belong in the hands of someone who fraternizes with pirates."

James glared at him, too many emotions raging through him to count. "If that is all you need," he finally grated out, though each syllable pained him, "I will take my leave now." Without waiting for a dismissal, he turned on his heel and started for the door.

"Oh, Norrington?" Despite himself, James paused and turned to face Beckett. "If I were you, I'd report back here at noon tomorrow." He grinned slyly. "I'm hanging one of these so called Pirate Lords. I know you wouldn't want to miss it."

James was too surprised to reply. He stormed to the door and slammed it behind him.

It was dark in the cell. And damp. The man rolled a piece of eight across his knuckles and hummed a tune. He knew he was going to die. It was inevitable and, if he had to admit it, deserved. He shouldn't have let himself be captured. It was only fortunate that most of his crew escaped with their lives.

That also meant that word of his execution would get out.

There might not be any great love affair among the Pirate Lords, but they would avenge their own.

He kept humming. "… Never shall we die…."

Beckett did not know what he was unleashing.

"Après moi le deluge."

A/N: Whooo another chapter in less than a week! Yay! Anyways, hope you guys liked this chapter, and if you did please let me know! By the way, "après moi le deluge" means: "after me, the flood" for those of you who aren't familiar with the saying. It is also a little hint about which pirate lord is to be Bartholomew Beckett's first victim ;) Review, review, review!