A.N.: Thank you again for all of the lovely reviews and the story favorites! In this chapter, we'll be seeing Alistair in the flesh for the first time. Please do let me know what you think of him. I have to admit, he's one of my favorite characters...he's just so much fun to write. Be prepared to see and hear a lot of Alistair in the coming chapters. Read and review! :)
-Laerwen
Norrington found his way over to the Tuttle household several days after the luncheon. While he waited outside the door, he thought back to Catherine's comments about her cousin. Women were prone to exaggeration after all, so he wasn't taking her absolutely seriously. Unfortunately for him, that was all about to change.
As soon as he was shown into the sitting room, he knew something was wrong. Catherine was sitting on the sofa with a cup and saucer in her hands and a frazzled expression on her face. Her cousin, Alistair, was standing by the mantle and lecturing her on the fine points of…was that lacework he was talking about? Norrington blinked and returned the smile she gave him, though his wasn't quite as strained.
"Commodore! So good to see you! Do make yourself comfortable. I shall ring for more tea and cakes," she said, getting up immediately and setting her teacup down before going to the bell pull and tugging sharply on the decorative rope. Once that was done, she returned to her seat and said, "Commodore, this is Alistair Tuttle, Lord Witney, my cousin recently arrived from London. Alistair, this is my dear friend, Commodore James Norrington."
Norrington bowed at the waist and said, "A pleasure to meet you, Sir Alistair."
The cousin, a tall, reedy fellow with freckled skin the color of milk and red hair (Norrington had only seen eyebrows that red on Gillette), merely sniffed and said, "I'm sure. Tell me, Kitty, how often do you socialize with the middle class?"
Catherine raised both eyebrows and said, "I beg your pardon?"
"Well," Alistair continued, "Those who are in the military or trade of some sort are usually younger sons, if not simply unlanded citizens. How does the saying go again? Ah yes…'A friend before a neighbor, a neighbor before a stranger, a stranger before a dog, and a dog before a soldier.' You said your surname was Norrington?" Alistair continued before he had a chance to open his mouth. "You must be a second son then. I believe I know that name…your brother is Sir Oliver, yes? Only minor gentry…your grandfather on the other hand, is quite something, I must say. Indomitable force in the Lords. He and I get on quite well."
"I must say, I am quite surprised," Norrington said. He was just able to keep most of the gravel out of his voice. Just. "You and Grandfather do not seem to have similar personalities. I would have thought you preferred someone less…like him." He hated this man.
Catherine's cousin ignored this quip, or simply did not recognize it. "Your brother has a seat in the Commons, is that correct? And your father has passed on some years previously?" Alistair inquired with a cool gaze from watery grey eyes. He sipped daintily from his small glass of claret.
"Yes, both are true. My brother was the inheritor of the majority of his will, but I myself was the recipient of a tidy sum. Upon the death of my grandfather, I shall receive a title and an estate myself, and a seat in Parliament. I chose to continue my naval career however. I wish to obtain the rank of Admiral before I retire." Norrington desperately wanted to challenge the nasally toothpick to a duel with swords.
"Hmmm. You "chose" to remain in the Navy, you said? So you would be able to provide for a family should you decide to marry and remove yourself from the…working sphere?" Alistair wrinkled his nose in disdain, as if the word was a bad taste upon his tongue. He took another swill of claret to rinse it away.
"Yes indeed, Lord Witney. In fact, I would be able to retire immediately and support not only a wife, but an entire brood of children, plus servants and a large estate and never have to lift a finger again. I see you are very concerned with my affairs," Norrington pointed out, but it seemed nothing could embarrass this man.
"Oh indeed. Any potential suitor for my dear Kitty must be carefully examined. Nothing but the best for family," Alistair said. His voice was as reedy as the rest of him. Norrington wished he could stuff his mouth with his stocking.
"Alistair, you said you saw Mama and Papa before you left for Port Royal?" Catherine cut in with a brittle, bright smile.
He turned to his cousin and drawled, "Oh yes, I did indeed see George, Lord Cheltenham and Lady Isabella when they disembarked. Your ingrate of a brother, Richard, was already attached to the arm of a woman. Likely a doxy. I must admit, I was not surprised in the least when I heard you had chosen to stay behind. You must have felt you would not be getting any suitable offers in London, though with the Marquis and Marchioness back in Town for the season, I simply cannot understand why. They have their inordinately large brood of children with them, and each of their sons and daughters has a title. Your brother has already tried his hand with two of the girls, and was in process of causing a scandal the last I heard. However, they are each dowered with 50,000 pounds. Quite a sum to put on your daughters, I must say."
Catherine rolled her eyes when Alistair wasn't looking. "Now, Richard wouldn't do that. He is rather free, of course, but he knows how to comport himself in proper company."
Alistair fixed her with a look. "Need I remind you of the fountain incident? The whole ton were talking about it for a week afterward! I could hardly show my face to the Earl, your grandfather," he said with a nod towards Norrington, "after it happened, I was so embarrassed. Uncle George and Aunt Isabella really ought to keep a better eye on the doings of their wayward son."
"Well, if it was only for a week, obviously something else distracted them and the incident is now forgotten. Is that not so, Alistair?" Catherine asked. She was plainly furious, but trying not to show it.
Her cousin merely sniffed and drained the rest of his glass. Grace chose that moment to come in with a refreshed tea tray, but placed it down quickly and left the room. The tension in the air was palpable, and she had no wish to catch the attention of the sour-faced peer.
"So, Norrington. Do you play cards?" Alistair asked. He set his claret glass down and motioned for Catherine to pour him a dish of tea.
"I do, but I find I am usually busy with paperwork up at the fort, and then patrols," he answered stiffly. Norrington accepted the cup and saucer from Catherine and sat ramrod straight in his armchair.
"What do you say to a little game of whist then, or perhaps something a bit more daring? I deal at White's, my club back in London. It was founded by Catherine's great grandfather Francesco Bianco, or the Anglicized Francis White, back in 1693. You can make an excellent income dealing faro at White's you know," Alistair said as he sipped his tea. "The Marquess of Waterford frequents the place. He and I are quite friendly with each other in the Lords as well. I never see your grandfather the Earl there however. Do you know why that is?" Alistair asked Norrington, looking down his beaky protuberance of a nose.
Norrington clenched his fists surreptitiously so he wouldn't be tempted to bash the bony thing and said, "My grandfather is not a gambling man, Sir Alistair. He's more sporting than anything. I recall he kept a full stable and numerous hounds when I was a lad. He used to take my siblings and me riding when we visited."
"Yes, how is he liking Bedfordshire this time of year? I hear he's been entertaining quite a bit. Oh, but you might not be in much contact with him, due to your busy nature. Mustn't worry, we all get busy a bit." Alistair settled in his own armchair with lazy aplomb.
"Actually, I just received a letter from him. He wishes I could be home for Christmas, but realizes I am serving King and Country. He is possibly planning on coming to visit in the New Year. His son, Lord Huddersfield, will be upholding the family seat in Parliament should he do so. Apparently, he will be hosting the ball to end all balls for Christmas this year. What a pity you will be here instead, Witney. I am certain Oxfordshire will be missing you."
Alistair wrinkled his nose and downed the rest of his tea. "Kitty, pass me a cake, will you? That's a girl."
Catherine grumbled in her seat as she leaned across to serve him a small cake dusted with sugar on a china plate.
"Well, I think we've been sitting and talking long enough. What say you we leave the woman to her music and retire to a game of cards or chess? Er, you do play chess, don't you?" Alistair sniffed.
"I do play chess, Witney," Norrington said. After all, if Alistair could be so informal with his last name, then he could be too. "In fact, I am rather excellent at it, if I do say so myself."
"Very well, chess it is then. You know, if we were to play faro, I would likely come out the victor. I hardly ever lose," Alistair said.
"Well, when one is dealing it is rather hard not to. The house always wins after all," Norrington quipped.
Alistair looked over to his cousin while he set up the chess board and said, "Kitty dear, play us something. Use that sweet little voice of yours. Music would be good. Wouldn't want to waste one's talents, after all. Black or white, Norrington?"
"White," he answered shortly.
"Fancy yourself the White Knight, eh?" Alistair smirked.
"Not at all. I happen to play black very often and wish to change," Norrington stated.
"So, you said you were the recipient of a "tidy sum", if I am not much mistaken. You have it invested, I assume? The five percents would give a good return," Alistair said. Then he laughed and added, "Oh, but of course you already knew that."
"Yes, I do have it invested," Norrington said tightly. "However, I do not wish to get into the particulars of my accounts at this time. Perhaps we could attend to the game instead."
And so it continued. Norrington won the chess game, and the subsequent two. Alistair finally gave up and retired to his armchair, nursing a snifter of brandy in defeat. By the time he left, he had a splitting headache. Catherine followed him to the door under the pretense of seeing him out.
"I told you he was abominable," she murmured. "I fear I will not be able to see the children at all this week while he settles in. Please tell them from me that I will be there as soon as possible though. I am sorry you had to endure him for such a while. Thank you for keeping me company Commodore," she said.
"Of course. Do try not to murder him, Miss Tuttle," Norrington smirked. "I shall see you around the fort eventually I assume?"
"You assume correctly," Catherine smiled. "Now shoo. You're letting in the rain."
Norrington chuckled as he exited the house.
True to her word, Catherine did not show up at the fort for about a week after Norrington's visit. The children were rather down after he had announced her absence, but they quickly rebounded and dashed about the kitchens with endless amounts of energy until the head cook cornered them and sent them off to their play room.
About halfway through the week, he and several of his officers, Gillette and Groves included, were taking a dinghy to The Dauntless to ascertain the ship was sea-worthy. At first glance everything was fine when they boarded her, but Norrington had a strange feeling that wasn't going to last.
True to form, a sailor came hurrying up to the Commodore with a perplexed look on his face. "Sir, the rudder chain's been disabled. Oi was jis' on the ship las' noight and she were foine. I dunno 'ow this cood 'ave 'appened!" he exclaimed.
"What?" Norrington asked sharply. "Disabled, you said?"
"Yessir. But oi dunno 'ow." The sailor scratched his head in confusion and flicked off a louse from the end of his finger.
Norrington tried not to grimace. "Well," he sighed, "did you see anyone board her yesterday?"
"Jis' the new cabin boy, sir," the sailor responded.
Norrington's stomach sank into his shoes. "New cabin boy?" he asked softly.
"Aye, sir. Toiny li'le mite, 'e was. Dressed in dark clovin' and kept 'is cap pulled low over 'is brow. Di'n see much of 'im. Jis' dar'ed in 'n out of the shadows and vanished like a wisp of smoke once 'is dootees 'n all were done."
Norrington was practically snarling. "Fix it," he hissed. The sailor scuttled away with a touch of his brow in respect and vanished near the rear of the ship.
The furious Commodore stalked over to Gillette and Groves, who were both studying the disabled chain.
"Three guesses as to how it broke, and the first two don't count," he grumbled.
Gillette took one look at the black look on his superior's face and said, "Miss Tuttle."
"Yes, Lieutenant Groves. Miss Tuttle indeed," Norrington growled.
"I wonder if she comes up with it all beforehand, or if she just makes it up as she goes along," Groves wondered aloud in admiration.
Norrington shot him a look, and his subordinate officer quailed.