Isabelle made her three trips a week to headquarters and signed documents, files and pardons. Most days she was there merely to act as task master. But after a few days the secretaries and clerks of the company were working under their own drive to accomplish. Miss Beckett was a task master, but she didn't care how things got done, unlike his lordship that had a hand in everything. Miss Beckett only wanted to see that every task assigned was completed.

"You've a fine head for business, Miss Beckett." One of the clerks said as she signed off on more orders. "Everyone thinks you're doing a splendid job."

"Thank you Mr. Hudson." She smiled at him as he sanded her signature and left the room. Isabelle leaned back and looked out the window of the office. The sun was beginning to set and a slight breeze had picked up. It would rain before the next morning, she was sure of it.

It had been two weeks since Cutler's departure and the bruise on her face had disappeared. She had only called upon Mr. Norrington once in the time since his unexpected arrival at the house the day after Cutler left. She did not want him nosing about. He was an exceptionally inquisitive man, and he was intelligent; she did not need to answer his questions for him to guess at what transpired between her and Cutler. The part of her that enjoyed his company yearned to tell him about Cutler and about her curse. She wanted to tell someone all the sordid details of her darkest secret. Kapil had been her confidante in India.

Kapil.

She had not thought of him in ages. Kiri would be a young woman by now, his eldest son would be married, as would several of his older girls. Kiri might even be contracted with some young village boy. Isabelle drummed her fingers absently against the arm of the chair as she thought back on the past decade. The more she thought about where she had been, where she had thought she would be, and where she was, the more depressed she got. She was turning these thoughts over and over in her mind when a commotion in the hall distracted her and pulled her from her reverie.

Glass shattered in the distance and she heard shouting downstairs. She imagined one of the apprentices had dropped a tray full of inkwells or perhaps a decanter of brandy. The brandy, though it would make less of a mess, would raise much more of a stir. She'd find out soon enough.

Sooner than I thought….

"Miss Beckett!" Isabelle turned slowly to the pale clerk who entered the room. "Come quickly." Isabelle frowned and followed the clerk down the massive staircase to the foyer where several clerks stood staring to where one of the panes of glass from the window beside the door had shattered.

"Have none of you ever seen a broken window? Get back to work!" Isabelle saw several of the men jump and move off whispering amongst themselves. The senior clerks, men who had worked for her father, stood about and stared at her. "Well, what is it? How did this happen?"

Mr. Jenkins, a man who should have retired ages ago, stepped forward with a rock and a piece of parchment in his hand.

"It would seem, that we are not the town favorites." He passed the rock and the parchment to her.

"Death to the Company! Death to Tyranny! Free Trade or No Trade!"

"So I see." Isabelle shrugged her shoulders and crumpled the note. "Well, the way the company has been running things of late it's no small wonder we have our enemies. Get this mess cleaned up. I want that pane replaced on the morrow. For now have it boarded up. Have a guards posted outside at all hours; day and night. We shall take this threat seriously for now and loosen security measures as time goes on." The men bowed as she moved quickly back up the stairs.

She went back to Cutler's office and sank into one of the large wingback chairs. Twilight had enveloped the room and it was bathed in shadow. Cutler was making enemies. It didn't take a reader to know that. She chewed absently on her thumbnail as the room was slowly bathed in the soft purple shadows of twilight. She stared at the cold hearth and wondered what she could do, or if there was anything that could be done to counteract the destruction that Cutler had wrought.

"Miss Beckett?" Isabelle turned slightly to see Mr. Jenkins standing in the doorway. "My goodness child, what are you doing sitting here in the darkness?"

"Thinking." Isabelle sighed heavily and gnawed on her thumb again. "The Company can do such good! I'd hate to think that people will only see its destructive properties."

"You shouldn't trouble yourself, miss. Such things are bound to happen. All major corporations face such detractors. It is the nature of the beast."

"It shouldn't be." She heard Mr. Jenkins laugh but paid him no mind.

"Miss Beckett, Mr. Norrington is awaiting you in the lobby. I called upon him to escort you home."

"What—ow!!" Isabelle had bit down on her thumb when Mr. Jenkins had mentioned Norrington. She stood quickly and turned on Mr. Jenkins. "You had no right to do that! I'm perfectly capable of going home without an escort! I've been doing so for weeks now…."

"Considering the threat we received this evening I didn't think it wise for the company's representative to be going about alone." Mr. Jenkins answered. "Mr. Norrington was hired on as an escort and protector of sorts. Let him do his job."

"You take too many liberties old man." Mr. Jenkins swallowed hard. Isabelle had a sweet disposition, but in the shadowed office she looked like a corpse, her eyes dark and sunken, her skin white against the dark shadows of the room and her voice—it was as cold as the grave. He laughed in spite of himself.

"I should have retired long ago miss, before even your father died, God rest his soul. Because I have not, I entitle myself to liberties that others wouldn't dream of." Isabelle shook her head. She hadn't meant to snarl at Jenkins so, she knew he was thinking of her safety, but the audacity of calling James Norrington to the task was galling. More appalling, she knew that Mr. Jenkins was right. It was no longer safe for her to be on her own.

She swept past Mr. Jenkins and moved down the hall to the great staircase. James Norrington stood in the middle of the foyer upon the inlaid compass rose on the marble floor. He watched as two cooper's boys tacked a board over the shattered window. The noise echoed in the vaulted room and sounded like thunder. Isabelle had to shout to get Mr. Norrington's attention.

"Mr. Jenkins said you needed an escort home." James said as she approached. The boys seemed to be done with the board at the moment.

"Yes, we've had some PROBLEMS." The boys began to nail the board secure again half way through her sentence.

"WHAT?" James yelled back. Isabelle shook her head and held a hand to her ear. She nodded her head towards the back of the headquarters building and lead James into an empty cloak room.

"Well, that's better, now I can hear myself think!" Isabelle sighed. The sound of the hammering was dulled only slightly, but at least she didn't have to shout to be heard.

"What's going on?" James asked her.

"We were threatened today." Isabelle explained as she swung her shawl over her shoulders and tied the tasseled ends off at the small of her back. Her arms and shoulders were now covered, but she wouldn't have to worry about the filmy material slipping from her shoulders or dragging in the muck when she lost one of the ends from her hands. It also left her hands free to grasp her skirts in case she had to make a dash. But from what or who would she be fleeing? She suddenly realized that James was still staring at her waiting for more information. "The Company is not well liked. It's understandable considering the taxes levied on merchants coming here. The Company taxes the goods brought off the ships here, the merchants have to raise prices to make it worth their while and the people suffer for it because their wages are not raised to meet the costs. In fact, the lower classes suffer more so that the rich are able to enjoy their lives, no matter the cost to others."

"I'm surprised you'd care for the lower classes so."

"Are you? You of all people shouldn't be surprised." Isabelle leveled her dark eyes on James and was shocked to see him staring back at her.

"Just because you came from humble beginnings, doesn't mean that you would remember them. Some people that rise from the low places of the world do their damnedest to leave their brethren behind."

"I'm not one of them." Isabelle shot back. She felt cornered in the tight space of the cloak room. It was time to leave. "I don't care what others may or may not do; I don't choose to forget my origins. It makes me grateful for everything I've received in my life. You may choose to throw your old life away; I choose to keep it close to my heart." She tried to storm past him, angry as she was but he caught her arm. She stopped and stared at him.

"I never said I made good decisions, Miss Beckett. But I never wanted to throw my life away in whole. I watched as piece by piece it was taken from me. I didn't know how to make a life with what I had left." He slowly looked away from her and let go of her arm. "I admire you though…being able to hold onto where you came from and still live happily amongst the elite."

Isabelle barked a short laugh and rolled her eyes as she made her way to the back door. "You are a fool if you think I live my life happily." James followed behind her and she smiled when she realized he had to trot to catch up to her long fast strides. When he drew even he slowed down and matched her strides.

"You are unhappy?"

"I didn't say that!" She snapped. She took a turn and walked up the street. She felt the eyes of many people on her. None of them were an eminent threat.

"You said I was a fool if I thought you lived a happy life….but you're happy?"

"I only meant….it's just…." Isabelle set her jaw and shook her head. "Money doesn't bring happiness Mr. Norrington; that is all."

"You are angry with me." Isabelle looked at him out of the corner of her eye. "For what I don't know…"

"I am not angry at you." Isabelle said with a defeated sigh. "I am frustrated. This whole thing is a great inconvenience."

"I'm glad to hear you aren't angry with me." James said with a grin. Isabelle felt his relief wash over her. It started as a warm feeling in the pit of her stomach that spread throughout her body. She relaxed slightly and slowed her stride. "And I'm sorry for your inconvenience."

"It's no matter." She said with a wave of her hand. "Freedom is a luxury I'm not to be given it would seem." The words had come unbidden, but after her contemplation in the office, she knew it was true. Cutler confining her the evening of his departure, the way he lorded his possession of the heart over her as well as insisting on her calling him by his title, and now she was forced to rely on another to escort her home. The cinder maid Cutler had compared her to would have more freedom than she did.

"Miss Beckett?" Isabelle turned to James who was looking at her oddly.

"I'm sorry, did you say something?"

"Nothing of import. A crown for your thoughts?" He had clasped his hands behind him as he strolled beside her. She stared at him as he smiled.

"My thoughts wouldn't be worth a crown. Why would you pay to hear the thoughts of a silly girl?"

"Well, first things first, I'd pay to hear them because they're obviously important. Second, they can't be too silly for all the weight they would seem to bear upon you, and lastly, you can't possibly be too silly a girl as you are currently in charge of one of the largest trade organizations in the world." He continued to stare at her as the first stars finally began to prick at the deep purple of the night sky. He dug in his pocket and held up the coin. "Well?"

Isabelle smiled in spite of herself and shook her head. "I was merely thinking about how miserable things have ended up….and how trapped I am."

"Trapped?"

"Like a bird in a gilded cage." Isabelle answered with a sigh. "I have no where to go, and even if I did, Cutler would not permit me to leave. I'm too valuable to him."

"You've no beau or family friend in India or England you could go to?" Norrington asked.

"Ha! Heavens no! A beau? I'm a spinster Mr. Norrington, or haven't you heard?" Isabelle said. Tears threatened and she had to clear her throat to prevent her voice from shaking. It was one thing to contemplate the thought, but quite another to voice it aloud to another. "Friends are a hard commodity and hardly trafficked by the company. Most people only use me as a means to get to my brother and then I'm once again forgotten and relegated to the parlor or garden." The ice in her voice caught James off guard and he took a moment to look again at the young woman with whom he walked. She was incredibly smart, and strong and yet held such a dark outlook on life and the world at large; her defeatist attitude shocked him. She was like a coin that flipped from one side to the other. "I hate what has been done to the Company. Lord Beckett, Cutler's father, was a hard businessman who wanted to make the largest profit for the company possible, but never at the expense of the merchants or traders. Certainly never at the expense of the people. Cutler cares only to fill his own coffers and to hell with those he treads upon." Isabelle turned her eyes to James and smiled. "You're shocked that I'd use such strong language."

"Certainly nothing that would be uttered in a parlor."

"Forgive me, but I was not born to a parlor. Occasionally my lesser nature reveals itself." She'd flipped again. One moment speaking of something which deeply troubled her and the next moment making a joke at her own expense.

They had arrived at the back garden gate and James opened it and allowed her to enter. He thought about leaving her to make her way to the house on her own, but thought better of it. If someone were to ambush her, it may very well be from the protection of the dense growth of her own garden.

"Is there nothing you can do to change it?" He asked.

"Change what?" She asked as she turned around a tall hedge and moved onto the gravel paths of the formal gardens.

"The view people have of the company."

"I don't know. It would be quite the undertaking. What good would it do? When Cutler returned he would destroy everything I had done and bring it right back to this."

"Have you spoken to no one else about this?"

"Who? Cutler's business partners? His clerks and accountants? Who am I supposed to turn to Mr. Norrington? As I told you before, I have no friends. Those that sought my friendship, few though they were, have abandoned me. They got what they wanted when they gained or lost favor with my dear brother."

"I believe you overlook one person, though I wouldn't want to presume anything." Mr. Norrington said. He stopped in the pool of light that spilled from one of the big windows of the house. Isabelle turned to face him, an odd look creasing her features. "Me? I'd like to think that we could be friends if I haven't offended you too greatly."

Isabelle stared into his eyes. He was honest, and sincere in his gesture of friendship. He honestly wanted to befriend her. They had shared much; heartache, hardships, a change in standing and above all, loss. She knew a few of the shadows that chased him, far more than he would ever know about her and hers. They'd also spent three days together in the middle of the sea. They'd shared a near death experience.

"What do you seek to gain?" She asked, suspicious of his motives. She instantly regretted her words.

"You truly are the daughter of a Company merchant. Must everything come with a bartered price on it?" Norrington turned and moved into the shadows.

"No, I didn't mean that!" Isabelle moved from the door and chased after him. She grasped his sleeve and forced him to stop. "Please! I didn't mean that…"

"What did you mean?"

"I don't know. Attribute it to the silly ramblings of a foolish woman." She shook her head and stared at the ground. "Please Mr. Norrington…let me make this up to you?"

It was his turn to look at her with a questioning gaze. "Please join me for dinner? I have dined quite alone these past two weeks, I would enjoy the company."

"I think I'd like that, as long as it wouldn't be an imposition upon your household."

"Not at all…please, won't you come in?" She smiled up at him expectantly but felt something tug at her heart. He wanted to say yes, but something was keeping him from saying it. "Why won't you join me?" His eyes shot to hers briefly and then he looked away.

"I'm not high board material. I wouldn't want you to be embarrassed. I'll bid you good evening, Miss BEckett." He bowed and turned to leave.

"You are a vexing brute!" Isabelle had to restrain herself from stamping her foot. "Do not think it high board Mr. Norrington, and remember from whence I come. If it pleases you, think on this meal as payment for your good work in escorting me home tonight. Or, better yet, think of it as a company dinner between employees. I'd say it's a dinner between friends, but I suppose our mutual mistrust of others is going to take some time to get over, so we wont' call it that." James was silent for a moment before he bowed again. He had wanted to laugh for she was quite amusing when she was angry. She was like another woman he had known.

"Lead the way, Miss Beckett." Isabelle smiled and went back to the side door and escorted Mr. Norrington in to dinner.

Their meal was rich and they spent time talking of their past lives, dancing around the most painful parts and doing their best to keep the conversation light. Isabelle laughed as she hadn't done in months. But as all good things, their meal had to come to an end and James Norrington finally rose from the table to leave.

"Miss Beckett, I thank you for a wonderful dinner." He said bowing. Isabelle rose as well and followed him out into the foyer. He turned and smiled. "Are we resolved now to be friends?"

"I think so." Isabelle smiled up at him and nodded. "Will you go out the front door, or would you prefer to go out the side? Which is quicker for your return journey?"

"The side door would be just fine. If I might escape through your garden…"

"Escape!? Have I held you captive then this evening?" It was Norrington's turn to laugh.

"Nay, lady, merely captivated me." Isabelle smiled in spit of herself. He was a shameless flatterer. They walked to the side door and he stood upon the stair as she stood in the doorway. "What time shall I call upon you in the morning to escort you to the office?"

"I won't be going to the office tomorrow, but call early the day after and we shall go down together." She smiled softly as he gallantly took her hand up and kissed the back of it. She stiffened slightly and was embarrassed when she realized he had sensed it. But there was something else. As he released her hand, he passed a crown from his fingers to hers.

"I should think this an investment well made." Isabelle opened her mouth to make a response but could find no words to shout at his back as he retreated into the darkness of the gardens, a smile upon his face and a whistle upon his lips.

"Arrogant man!" She hissed into the darkness. But she was not angry. How could she be when she had gained a friend?

That evening, Isabelle went to sleep with a smile upon her lips and the crown beneath her pillow.