Sincere apologies for the slight hiatus but rest assured I do not leave things unfinished so this shall be brought to a (hopefully) satisfying conclusion in the (hopefully) near future.
Yes, yes, we have left our characters to their own devices for rather too long and you can rest assured that they have gotten to all sorts of mischief in those stolen weeks. But before we hurry to criticize and even condemn them and their many unavoidable missteps in the search for fulfillment (or just general enjoyment), let us remember where we left them.
Mr and Mrs Nolan were as incandescently happy as they have been since the very moment they became acquainted, their felicity further aided by Miss Anna and Captain Liam Jones' similarly increasingly high spirits in the days before we last saw them. Let it never be said that the enthusiasms of the heart are not among the best ways of lifting one's spirits to propriety's very limit.
Miss Ingrid and her younger niece were each thriving in the glow of the latter's blossoming courtship with one Mr Hans Islington and the older Froster sister – while holding herself back from making any final pronouncements on the gentleman's character – could not help but delight in her sister's obvious happiness. And indeed she could not suppress some of her own, especially when confronted time and again with the sparkling eyes of a certain captain and the growing adoration in that arresting gaze.
Miss Emma Swan was set on turning her back on her own urges and avoiding any further impulsive and ill-advised decisions by focusing on the felicity of two of her closest friends and she was fortunate enough to find them rather willing targets. And let us also note that there is hardly a better way of masking the trepidations of one's own heart than by hiding behind the loud flapping of others'.
And Captain Killian Jones. The man who seems to have given us the least trouble and thus the most frustration – remaining as we first found him, not unlike the tree exhibit his brother has accused him of being. But we mustn't be too hard on that gentleman, for Captain Jones used to be a man of many journeys in his youth and finding himself now a man of many sorrows has made an unfortunate connection between the two and has come to the inevitable conclusion that the least one risks, the least one is likely to cause harm – both to themselves and those they keep society with – a lesson that goes rather against his very nature but which the world seems to have beaten into him one too many times. And may cruelly decide to do so yet again.
/
Now that we have been reminded of where we were, we find ourselves free to look at where we are. But some precautions must be taken, for the Storybrooke we're about to step into is far from the calm and orderly place we have just remembered. Indeed it is in as much turmoil as any of our characters can ever remember seeing – and much the same can be said about their own good selves.
Our first indication of something being amiss is the very presence of the Froster sisters and their aunt. While Miss Swan is known to be easily persuaded by Mrs Nolan to remain in town for extended periods of time, Miss Ingrid and her other two charges were set to leave a note-worthy two weeks prior. No, indeed, this is an ignorant statement to make and we must be more precise when given the chance to be so – Miss Ingrid and Miss Elsa were expected to depart two week earlier, Miss Anna had been expected by a large and growing portion of her friends and acquaintances to depart even earlier and no longer as a Miss Froster at all. What is more, some doubts and insinuations may have arisen about the status with which the older sister would leave town as well and exactly how far she would be going, seeing as Jewel Hall was much closer than Arendelle.
Such aspirations or fanciful imaginings – as Miss Elsa would name them – seem so innocent now, so pure in their belief in rationality and order and propriety, so very unstable in their very reliance on the stability of society. Such felicitous designs seem to us little more than childish dreams, born of imposed inexperience or willful ignorance, as we gaze upon the scene in Enchantings.
Mrs Nolan, being the perfect hostess and taking the greatest pleasure usually and the greatest comfort at present in attending to her guests, brings two more plates of sweets herself and places one directly in front of Miss Anna. And we know it is a dire situation indeed, if the lady in question does not react to the appearance of chocolates, if she continues to lie on Mrs Nolan's exquisite sofa, her feet inconsiderately buried in one dull pink pillow and her face in her aunt's lap, if her breathing continues to be artificially measured so as to prevent future irregularities and her eyes puffy and red and – for what must be the first time in her 21 years on earth – lacking any sparkle but the one of unshed tears – yes, indeed we should draw the inevitable conclusion that the situation, which we have clumsily and uninformedly stumbled into, is rather of the troublesome variety.
But if Miss Froster's appearance does not satisfy us, we simply have to turn to Mrs Nolan again and observe the way her already tremulous and unusually unnatural smile wavers and falls to its untimely but unavoidable demise, the way her hand and the remaining plate in it tremble with we-know-not-what combination of emotions, the way her husband wraps a protective arm around her shoulders and draws her to his side, stopping himself just short of kissing her head and that just for the benefit of the ladies present and perhaps from a heightened sense of the lack of husbands' shoulders in the room.
And, if still, we remain unconvinced - which seems monstrous, especially in the face of Miss Ingrid's quiet dignity and pain for her niece and the controlled rage that can be seen simmering just below the unfocused surface of her gaze - we can simply set our sights on Miss Elsa Froster and in her countenance, more than anyone else's, perceive what has been made so painfully clear. True tragedy must have struck the joyful company for its most reserved and self-possessed lady to allow her braid to be seen in such disarray, her skin so blotchy and the circles beneath her eyes so very pronounced.
At this point one cannot help but note the absence of Miss Emma Swan among her closest friends and almost family. One cannot help but wonder if her continuous flippancy towards and disinterest in a certain unruly gentleman has been the cause of all this grief, if her near-rudeness and resolute rejection has not somehow provoked an impulsive and immature man or a heartless and vengeful father into some unthinkable action.
One has but a moment to entertain such worries before Miss Swan herself sweeps into the room in what cannot be called anything but a run – her hair loose and her dress not tied quite right at her back, her feet still finding their rightful places in her shoes – on her way towards the front door. If anyone worried about her, it is clear that she is not inclined to grace them with her presence for a longer period of time than what it takes to run from the staircase to the Nolan's door.
Miss Elsa seems to be one such someone who might have worried over her friend and who seems determined to be graced with at least a minute of her time. Miss Ingrid looks like she would have risen to request the same was she not still impeded by the weight of her youngest charge.
"Emma, wherever do you think you are going?"
It is hard to imagine what could possibly have occurred that would make Miss Swan look upon her oldest friend in such a way – the way a storm would most probably look at a ship before wrecking it just for the sake of passing through, if it could do such a thing as see and comprehend. Emma's ability to see and comprehend can also be called into question, seeing how she doesn't pause or truly acknowledge her friend until she has a hand on her shoulder.
"Emma. Please, we need to stay together now. You know there's nothing we can do to-"
"And how, pray tell, do we know that? From sitting around on Mary Margaret's flowery pillows and drinking lukewarm tea?"
The other blonde draws back as if awoken from a dream she was not enjoying but was also unwilling to abandon.
"Liam said-"
"You will excuse my abominable rudeness, Elsa, but to speak frankly, I do not have the slightest interest in what Liam says or thinks right now."
"He knows best wh-"
"If he knew best, this wouldn't have happened!"
Miss Swan appears to have thrown all self-possession and regard for others' opinion out of the proverbial window. And Miss Froster looks more agitated than surprised by it. Her tone is in turn the polar opposite to her friend's heated words – measured and controlled, quiet and all the more jarring for it.
"This is not the time for displays of rebellion and non-conformity. It is the height of impropriety for you to rush-"
"Oh, like hell it is!"
"Emma!"
"Miss Swan!"
"Let her go."
It is Miss Anna's voice that silences everyone although she hasn't even raised her head from its resting place. We cannot be sure but there's the distinct feeling that this is the first time she has spoken in a good while. And in a lady of Miss Froster's disposition that is worrisome indeed.
"Anna-" her sister is the first to come out of the shock that has settled like the stickiest of dews over the drawing room.
"We all behaved so abominably, Elsa. Me most of all."
"Dear-" Miss Ingrid makes the kindest of attempts to reassure her niece but that is just the thing – one cannot be reassured until they are ready to be so.
"It is the truth and no one should say otherwise in my presence. It has been folly after folly and Emma is the one paying the price for it along with-"
"We are all-"
"No. No, we are not all, Elsa, and it does you no favour to pretend otherwise. Are you so much more concerned with the preservation of a reputation over that of a heart? Because, as one who has had both destroyed in so few days, I can tell you I'd forsake the former a hundred times over for the latter."
Miss Elsa seems to be fighting a battle between the need to reach for and soothe her sister and the responsibility of preserving what is left of her most dear friend's piece of mind.
But alas, one look at Miss Emma Swan shows us that there is hardly any mind left to preserve and it is all pieces now and they are all flying out of the door before anyone can so much as try to accompany them.
/
We have noted that Captain Killian Jones has, for some years now, adopted the attitude that the least you meddle in matters concerning anyone but your own self, the least harm you would cause to both yourself and others.
Perhaps now is the time to add that – true as all that may be – if forced to make the choice, he would always take the path that brings harm to himself rather than say to a known lady's reputation or her sister's or, let alone, his own brother's honour and physical safety.
Just so that has been made abundantly clear.
/
"Miss Swan, it is the height of impropriety to-"
"My goodness, you two even sound alike now. Congratulations, you make a truly unbearable couple."
Captain Liam Jones' eyes darken and he seems to strengthen and settle even more firmly in front of the entrance to his brother's estate.
"It is my duty as Killian's brother and as you friend, and frankly as the one who has to think clearly in this mo-"
"Oh, you-"
"To maintain the respectability of this house while…"
"While?! While your brother is incapable of doing so? How-" she runs a shaky hand through her already unsalvageable hair. "How can you even think – let alone care – about respectability and propriety right now, Liam!"
"Because those are the things that keep us sane!"
Emma tries not to flinch back at the Captain's sudden outburst. Had she been less affected herself – had her compassion not been exhausted for herself and his younger brother – this might have been the moment she took pity on Liam Jones.
"Those are the things that keep us from sailing straight into the eye of the storm, Miss Swan! The things that keep us from giving into all our basic urges."
Captain Jones takes deep, measured breaths in an attempt to center himself in the present, in this reality that has so utterly betrayed him by giving life to his darkest nightmares. It is not the reality he wants to live in but it is the only one he has now – it is the one he has created and he'd be damned twice over, if he does not take responsibility for it.
"Then look me in the eye, Captain Jones, and tell me how far I have fallen in your esteem because my basic urge is to be at your brother's side no matter what anyone might say."
And it is this it would seem – not waves the height of a dozen men and not the blackest of pirate sails on the horizon but Miss Emma Swan's unflinching belief that nothing is to take precedence over his little brother – that makes Liam Jones lower his head and his shoulders and realize that some forces of nature – residing inside people as they may – are too powerful and all-encompassing to tame. Yet he has to try one more time, to appease his conscience.
"Emma-"
"He might forgive you, if you don't let me in, Liam… Heaven knows he thinks you hung the very stars in the sky and could do no wrong. But, upon my word, I will never never forgive you."
Even the sturdiest conscience such as Liam Jones' cannot stand in front of a woman, who has emerged from the storm raging around them to do as her heart dictates her to, and not step to the side to let her pass.