A.N.:Okay, so here's another chapter. I know these are rather short, but they seem to work better with the story. After all, they are supposed to be snippets of Catherine's daily life. Thank you so much for all the kind reviews, and the story favorites! I really appreciate all of them. Please read this: I have Red and White Roses still in the works, but I am unsure whether I am able to continue it the way it is, as it is very out of character in the beginning for elves. I have a poll up on my profile, so I would love to hear your feedback regarding what you think I should do with it. I have no intentions of abandoning any of my stories though. Always lovely to hear from you!

-Laerwen

Catherine took the opportunity that weekend to rest and plan her next course of action. She was enjoying this entire escapade immensely, especially since it challenged her creativity and quick thinking. She debated going to The Bonny Lass later on Saturday evening, but in the end tossed that to the side. She really was tired, and in no mood to cross-dress for a single glass of rum. In the end, it proved to be a good idea that she didn't go, for she received an invitation from Elizabeth to supper.

"Grace, please tell the messenger I have accepted Miss Swann's invitation," she said as she went over to the clothes press. She missed the curtsey her maid sent her way as she opened the door, perusing the contents. She finally settled on a deep plum frock with contrasting cream lace and petticoat by the time Grace returned.

"Very well, ma'am," she said as she viewed Catherine's choice. "I shall have this aired out for you while I do your hair."

Catherine nodded and settled in her chair in front of her vanity mirror and watched as Grace dismantled the simple updo she had created that morning and began to brush it out.

"I fear there is no time to set your hair in curling rags, but I can take an iron to it, ma'am," Grace said.

"Do what you will," Catherine responded. She sat patiently while her maid created an elaborate style, and even allowed her to add the faintest hint of rouge to her cheeks and lips.

"Now, I have never tried this before on you, but I should like to. Mrs. Bartlett's maid was telling me about how she used it on her for galas and balls…" Grace said as she came forward with a little pot of black and a tiny brush.

"What are you going to do with that, give me whiskers?" Catherine asked. She wasn't so sure she wanted that near her face.

Grace rolled her eyes and said, "No ma'am. 'Tis for your eyelashes. They're black already, but this should draw more attention to your eyes."

Catherine leaned back when Grace made to start painting her lashes. "Emmmm…are you absolutely certain you know how to use that properly?" she asked nervously.

Grace huffed. "Ma'am, would I do this to you if I didn't?"

She sighed and forced herself to sit up straight again. "Very well. What do I have to do?"

"Perhaps if you looked down a slight bit, this way you won't get black on your lids. Then you mustn't blink until they are all dry," Grace responded.

Catherine sat stock still as Grace came at her with the brush again, brow furrowed in concentration. It was ridiculously hard – the sight of the black coated bristles nearing her eyes made her nervous, and it tickled horribly, which made her eyes water. Grace tutted when she jerked her head back and blinked furiously, staining her lower lids with a sun ray pattern.

"I am sorry," she apologized. "I simply could not help it. It tickled my eyes so," Catherine said.

Grace took a damp soft rag to her lower lids and wiped off the black stains. "Nearly finished now, I promise," she said. "Just a little more."

True to her word, she was done a few minutes later, and left Catherine sitting and trying not to blink while she screwed on the lid to the pot and put everything away.

"Now just a bit of powder, and you shall be finished," she said.

"Which is it, Grace? The white lead lays heavy on my skin and itches it so," Catherine said.

"Don't worry ma'am," Grace said as she returned with a larger pot and a fluffy powder puff. "It's the rice powder. You shan't feel a thing."

Once her cosmetics had all been applied and allowed to set, Grace and Catherine moved to behind the screen and began the long process of getting into evening dress. A fresh shift had been put on, along with cream silk stockings and new garters, and a freshly laundered and starched under petticoat secured. Then came the panniers, the over petticoat in new cream watered silk, and the embroidered pockets. Lastly, the stomacher and plum gown came on, and then the back was laced and secured. Catherine slipped her feet into black shoes, grabbed a fan in matching cream with tiny flowers in plum painted in a random pattern, and allowed a hat to be pinned to the top of her pile of curls. Finally, Grace proclaimed her ready, and followed her mistress down the stairs.

She saw her safely into the family carriage, and then stepped back into the house once it began to move down the curving drive.

Catherine was not surprised to find Norrington already seated at the dinner table when she arrived, sans hat of course. She had removed that along with her cloak as soon as she entered the Governor's Mansion.

Elizabeth rose to greet her. "Catherine! How lovely to see you! You look wonderful," she said, taking her hand and admiring the gown. "That color looks so well on you. And…did you do something to your eyes?"

Catherine laughed. "My! What a little ball of excitement you are, and full of questions as well! Anything else you wish to say before we eat?"

Elizabeth rolled her eyes in a decidedly unladylike fashion at her friend before leading her over to the table.

Both gentlemen had risen to greet her, and Norrington bowed over her hand before placing a kiss near her wrist. "Always a pleasure to see you, Miss Tuttle," he practically drawled. "I must admit, I am unused to seeing you dressed as a proper young lady. The last few times you were either dripping seawater or covered in flour."

"Yes, I have indeed heard of your escapades, Miss Tuttle," Governor Swann broke in with a fatherly smile. "You certainly seem to be running the dear Commodore and his men in circles. Elizabeth has been telling me all about them."

Catherine merely smirked at Norrington as they all took their seats and waited for supper to begin. Shortly after, the doors opened and the servants marched in bearing silver covered platters and tureens of soup. Though it was only a small party, Governor Swann liked to keep his table well-stocked.

"Governor, the food smells absolutely delightful," Catherine said once the covers were taken away.

"Yes indeed," Norrington concurred. "Much better than the food in the mess hall, certainly."

Swann laughed. "I should hope so," he practically boomed across the table. His cheeks were rosy, testament to the several glasses of Madeira he had imbibed already.

Elizabeth rolled her eyes as the two men served her and Catherine, and then set to eating.

Once supper was over, she and Elizabeth retired to the parlor while Norrington and Swann stayed in the dining room over port and a cigar on the Governor's end. As soon as the door was shut, Elizabeth turned to her friend and said, "You must tell me everything. What have you been doing those times you went to the fort? Is anything progressing between you and the Commodore?" Her eyes were practically glowing in excitement.

Catherine rolled her eyes. "No, Elizabeth. For your information, I have been with the children there. They are absolutely delightful, and have me wrapped around their little fingers. Have you never seen them?"

Elizabeth looked stunned. "No! I had no idea there were even children there! I suppose it is because I have never been there much…not like you have. I was there for ceremonies of course, and occasional visits, but I never went very deep. Where did you find them?"

"They were running about the kitchens and getting underfoot, so the first time I went I had them do little tasks to keep them busy and out of the way. Yesterday we baked some pies and then took several turns about the battlements until they grew weary. I put them to bed and went home after that," Catherine said. "So. Why is Mr. William Turner not with us tonight?"

Elizabeth sighed. "He fell ill. One of his burns became infected and his arm is swollen. He cannot work until it heals. I always tell him to be more careful, but he never listens. He is so reckless, I wonder at him sometimes."

"I do hope he heals speedily," Catherine said. "Come. While we wait for those men to finish their port, why do we not play some music? You can choose what you wish."

"Very well," Elizabeth nodded. "Do you mind taking the harp? I fear I am not proficient enough to play it."

"Naturally," Catherine agreed. She waited for Elizabeth to settle herself at the harpsichord and choose the proper sheet music before the two of them launched into the rondo. They were in the middle of it when Norrington and Swann joined them.

"Well! What do we have here?" the Governor asked. "What is this, an aria?"

Elizabeth rolled her eyes. "No Father, this is a rondo. Go sit down and play some chess."

Swann patted his daughter on the shoulder fondly and settled at a small card table. "Care for some whist, Commodore?"

"Very well," Norrington said. He and the Governor played for a couple hours while the two women alternated playing music. Elizabeth stuck to the harpsichord, while Catherine went back and forth between that and the harp.

Nearing ten o'clock, Catherine and Norrington stood up at the same time, said their farewells, and left, Catherine in her carriage and Norrington on his horse.

On Monday, Catherine had just about had it with Norrington. He had been in a terrible mood all day, and responded snappily to all of her comments. She had walked the battlements with him after putting the children down for another nap, and huffed in frustration at another acid response of his.

"What, do I bore you madam?" he asked. He wore a disgruntled expression on his face.

"No, but I would appreciate not having my head bitten off at every turn," Catherine shot back.

He gave her a sour look and turned to face the water.

"Commodore, what is going on with you? You have been in such a black mood all day. If you do not wish for my company, merely say so, and I shall be on my way."

Norrington heaved a great sigh. "Perhaps so," he snapped.

Catherine glared at him, her hands fisted in her skirts. A strange gleam came into her eye suddenly, and Norrington had the sense to be slightly nervous.

"Does it hurt?" she asked in a sickly sweet tone. Norrington knew immediately he was in trouble.

"Does what hurt?" he asked in confusion.

"The giant stick up your posterior!" she snapped. With that, she turned away, her skirts smacking his ankles, and disappeared down the stairs.

Norrington stared after her in surprise, then became aware of the snickering going on behind him. "Back to your posts," he barked in annoyance. With that, he returned to his office and locked himself in for the rest of the day.