Authoress' Note: Yay for more angsty-ness! Don't say I didn't warn all of you that there'd be more. Anyway, this is my favourite vignette so far (I have most of them written you see). I hope you like the title change. It certainly felt more appropriate considering each vignette will deal with first time situations that the Norribeth couple face. Enough of my rambling… Enjoy! All characters © Disney

The First Row

Broken china, spilled tea, and salty tears seem to be the order of the day and we haven't even made it through breakfast. Elizabeth has stormed off in a fit of fresh tears leaving me to read my morning paper in peace. Things are not going according to plan, and I voice this sentiment to Betsy as she carries the remains of one of my mother's finest teacups away.

Betsy smiles sadly and pats my arm, "Things will get worse before they get better, sir. That's my experience anyway."

I nod, but am not thoroughly convinced. I feel as though I should run after my wife and comfort her, but I have nothing to say. Having lost my appetite I stand and decide that if all I am to receive is silence and tears from Elizabeth then silence is all she shall receive from me.

Four months of this monotony persist nearly driving me to madness, for after a few days Elizabeth's crying ceases, and she takes up a new hobby to occupy her time: avoiding me. It certainly makes things quieter around the house without the echo of slamming doors and her hurried footsteps, but it is not the alternative I would have wished for. Just when I am beginning to wonder how long it will take me to go mad with grief and despair over her lack of interest in our marriage I receive a summons.

I am due in court on business and am expected to report to the king. Cornering Elizabeth in the library one afternoon I give her the news. Backing away, she nods and lowers herself into a chair. I expect her to say something in turn, but instead she fixes her gaze out the nearest window overlooking the sea, and I am forced to accept that my leaving will have seemingly no affect on her at all.

During the next three months at sea I taste just a bit of how my father felt when he left my mother to sail the sea in the name of England. A longing for female company after becoming used to Elizabeth's presence (despite never really seeing her) and feminine touches throughout the house set in after only a few hours back at sea. Late at night I find myself missing a warm body next to me in bed and the smell of spices that seems to follow Elizabeth from room to room. Who ever said a sailor's first love is the sea was mistaken and obviously had never met any women such as my wife.

Back in Jamaica Elizabeth waits for my return with only Thomas, our manservant, and Betsy, her maid, for company. Whether she misses me or not I shall not know, but I may hope it is so.

My arrival back in Port Royal is unmarked. Every other sailor's lass waits at the dock their expectant faces shielded by every sort of bonnet or hat one could imagine, and though I search for Elizabeth amongst the corseted women I know I look in vain.

I put off going home and head to the fort to finish some paperwork at my office. After having a quick drink I decide it's best not to delay any longer. I do not expect Elizabeth to wait up for me as the hour is late, but there she sits upon the staircase in naught but her nightgown her hands clasped tightly in her lap. The stub of a candle burns low besides her casting a distinct glow over her face. She does not betray her emotions, nor does she stand to greet me, but I can tell she is worried by the way her knuckles appear; white from the pressure with which she has clasped her hands. The first inklings of guilt creep into my stomach as I realise she has been waiting for me.

"Did you have a good voyage?" she asks suddenly piercing me with those brown eyes I have grown to miss.

I swallow hard, "Yes." My voice comes out rough as though it has not been used in a while. "Everything went well. England is as beautiful as ever. I wish you had been there to see it with me."

She nods and looks down at her hands.

"Did. . . did you hear any news of or capture any pirates?"

Elizabeth's question is barely audible in the gloom, but it slices through me like a knife.

My tone is icy as I reply. "No. Rest assured dear William Turner and Jack Sparrow are safe. No doubt they're passed out in Tortuga at this very moment lying in the arms of other women."

My voice has risen though I had not intended it too. I've gone too far. Elizabeth's eyes meet mine in cold defiance as she stands to face me with the stub of her candle in hand.

"How dare you!" she hisses keeping her voice steady, "How dare you assume that I care more about William Turner than yourself!" Tears of frustration pour down her cheeks. "I've given myself to you so that you might be happy. The least you can do is make an attempt at making me happy as well. It's the only way this marriage will work." Her eyes flash in contrast with the tears on her cheeks, and all I can do is stare dumbly at this woman who has barely spoken this much to me in the past 7 months of our marriage.

With that final word Elizabeth blows out the candle next to her, turns on her heel, and marches up the staircase leaving me to ponder her words in the dark. I know better than to follow her, and decide that sleeping in the parlour can't be so bad.

Authoress' Note: Thanks for reading! Don't forget to send me a lovely review. Maybe if I give out free cookies you'll be more inclined to press the purple button… Aaand, I still haven't had any feedback on the 1st person POV. Do ya like it? Dislike it? I suppose it may be a bit late to change it now, but you never know.