Authoress' Note: -waves- I hope you haven't all forgotten about me. I know it's been a while. I had a brilliant time on my cruise and intended to do some editing whilst on board. Obviously, that didn't go as planned or else I would've had this one out a week ago. Anyhoo, here's the Willabeth angst some of you have been waiting for, so enjoy while you can. :) Hopefully I won't have to be doing anymore of that. Once again, thanks to everyone who reviewed the last vignette. - hands out more cookies to christyfiction, RexLuscus, xLady Jackal – All characters © Disney
The First Anniversary
Sunlight filters through the open window flitting across my face, creating shadows under my closed eyelids. Today is our first wedding anniversary. I turn over to remind Elizabeth of that fact only to find her side of the bed empty and cold. Slightly discouraged, I amble across the room to my wardrobe and dress comfortably for the day. My hair, cropped short to fit under a wig, looks windswept when I glance at it in the looking glass. No doubt Elizabeth would call the look "pleasing to the eye" as she had on several occasions before. Shutting the door softly I head to the dining room for a cup of tea.
My wife is still not to be found when I arrive and a knot of worry twists itself in my stomach. As Thomas piles split timber into the grate I ask him, "Has Elizabeth gone out?"
He glances at me with his usual knowing expression and replies, "Yes sir, she went down to the seaside early this morning. She said she wanted to be left alone, so I didn't call for you."
"Thank you, Thomas. I think I'll go down and talk to her."
My old friend gives me an understanding smile and says something about gardening. I nod though my thoughts are already with Elizabeth's at the seaside.
I find my wife standing ankle deep in the surf with her dress and loosed hair billowing out in the wind. She stares with glassy eyes at the ocean stretched out before her. Quietly, I come to stand beside her, and am suddenly overtaken by the urge to put my arms around her, but I find I cannot.
A quick glance at me, and Elizabeth speaks, "Where would I be without you, James?"
It is a rhetorical question and I remain silent allowing her to voice what she has been longing to say for so long.
"What I mean is, did I make the right decision?"
The breaking of waves against the rocks is loud in my ears, but Elizabeth's reply rings clearly through each rush and crash of water on the sand.
"I may not be happy all the time, but I do not regret anything."
These words are the encouragement I have needed all along, and they give me the courage to reach out and brush Elizabeth's fingers with mine. Just as I pull away her hand darts to the side and entwines with mine. I squeeze her hand lightly and am surprised to find her squeezing back. We stand hand-in-hand for some time, and all I can do is thank God for small miracles.
When Elizabeth breaks away the first thing I notice is the cold sea air against the palm of my hand where hers rested only a moment earlier. I turn to see where she has gone, and find her gathering shells into her skirt. She does not speak as she moves, and so I work besides her, filling my pockets with sand dollars and the remains of broken clams.
--
"You're sure you still want to go?"
"Yes."
"Women don't usually frequent pubs you know."
"Since when have I been like other women?"
I laugh and Elizabeth, though she does not laugh with me, gives me a sidelong glance. The laughter is in her eyes.
"I didn't even know that you drink at all," I say slyly.
"There are many things you don't know about me, James," Elizabeth responds cryptically, turning away toward the window of the carriage.
Immediately, I am sobered and I stay so the remaining few blocks to my favourite pub.
It is fairly quiet (or as quiet as any pub may be at night) when we arrive and the barman, John, greets us heartily as we enter arm-in-arm.
"Commodore!" he cries waving his dishcloth at us in greeting. "I believe congratulations are in order, eh? One year it's been, hasn't it?"
"Yes," I say with a congenial smile, taking my hat off as we near the bar. John spots Elizabeth and smiles kindly.
"Ah now, and here's the missus, beautiful as always," he says, to which Elizabeth blushes prettily, but continues to smile as we sit down.
"A lucky man you are, James. A lucky man indeed. . . " John murmurs whilst taking out two glasses. Straightening up and setting the pair on the counter he asks "The usual? And maybe something a bit milder for the lady?"
Elizabeth nods and I voice our assent.
"That will do nicely."
The mood between us remains pensive as we sip our drinks in silence. I am grateful to Elizabeth for not expecting conversation. The silence between us is mutual, and so I let my mind wander while listening to the murmurs of the other people in the tavern. I watch Elizabeth who sits with her eyes closed until the stillness is broken by the sudden slamming of a door followed by the shuffling of heavy footsteps.
"Elizabeth!" a voice cries from behind; a voice that is all too familiar.
Elizabeth and I turn as one and are both startled to see William Turner standing in the doorway. The entire bar goes silent; what they are expecting to happen I do not know.
Elizabeth stands cautiously, the initial shock of seeing him still etched on her face.
"Will?" she whispers, as though she does not recognize the very same dark-haired, brown-eyed man she had fallen in love with so many years ago.
"Elizabeth," comes his heart felt reply as William steps toward her, taking her hands in his. I am speechless at his audacity, and Elizabeth seems to feel the same way. Her eyes widen as he draws himself closer and closer, his lips hovering dangerously near her own. . .
Standing quickly, I reach automatically for my sword only to find air in its place.
"She's married you know," I say, the words coming out rougher than I had intended them to be.
Elizabeth steps back, as though she's been caught in the act of something she ought naught to have been doing, and looks away ashamedly. William Turner, however, squints at me as though trying to remember something from ages past. His eyes harden in recognition.
"Norrington."
He glances at Elizabeth who stands, stricken, to the side of us, and fury wells within me. How dare he show his face today of all days! A hot wave of anger sweeps through me and I suddenly realise I'm shaking.
Still staring Elizabeth down he asks, "You. . . you married him?"
Elizabeth breaks eye contact and looks down at the floor, nodding. Hesitantly, he moves toward her hand out-stretched, the pain of this newfound knowledge in his very movement. "Elizabeth, I. . ."
"DON'T TOUCH HER!" I yell, as something within me seems to snap at the sight of them together. Then, before I know what I've done, I lunge and my fist connects with Mr. Turner's jaw with a deafening crack. He stumbles backward slightly and then in a split second recovers enough to hit back. Suddenly I am lost in a vortex of hands and blood and spit. Vaguely, I hear Elizabeth calling my name and then all goes black as I stumble back into the bar. Breaking glass, heavy footsteps followed by muffled yells and a slammed door, then silence.
I reach up tentatively and feel my left eye, which seems to have been reduced to a mere slit as it continues to swell. I dare not open my right eye to see the damage I have caused. Already I feel crimson shame spreading itself across my face.
"James," Elizabeth says quietly from my side as she takes my hand in hers, "Come away."
She helps me to stand and proceeds to lead me like a little child to the carriage already waiting outside. When we arrive home I stumble out of the carriage and into her waiting arms. Patiently, Elizabeth leads me up the front steps to the house where Betsy greets us at the door.
"My word!" she cries whilst herding us inside, "Sir, your face! What's 'appened?"
Before I can answer I am pushed into a chair as Elizabeth responds, "We had some trouble at the tavern, but everything's been sorted out." Her voice seems restricted and colder than I've ever heard it before. "Would you fetch some fresh linens and water to clean up Master Norrington's face?"
"Yes, of course, ma'am."
Hurried footsteps and the sound of a door clicking shut followed by more suffocating silence. I take a chance at opening my eyes and find that the left has completely swollen shut, but that the right is still usable.
At first it seems I am alone, until I spot Elizabeth standing slightly in the shadows, her back to me, staring up at my father's portrait on the wall. She speaks to the wall rather than facing me.
"How could you, James? How could you do something so. . . so rash?"
Her words are like ice, which freezes in the pit of my stomach.
"What were you thinking to prove? There's nothing left to prove. You got me, didn't you? That's all you ever really wanted . . ." She whips around to face me, her eyes hard. "And then you had to jeopardise everything to prove something that's already been proven."
She crosses her arms across her chest as she awaits my answer. I stand and walk toward her unsure of what to say at first, because everything she's said is true.
"I'm sorry," I begin and then I sigh. How am I supposed to explain this? "It's just. . . seeing the two of you together again brought back so many painful memories. I don't want to lose you," I finish lamely.
Elizabeth's eyebrow arches at my feeble attempt at an explanation.
Clearing my throat, I change the subject slightly by asking the question on my mind, "Do you still love him?"
Elizabeth looks away suddenly flustered.
"How can I not, James, when our lives were once so tightly wound together?" she finally asks matter-of-factly.
I knit my brow at this answer, unsure of how to feel. Seeing my distress, Elizabeth's demeanour softens considerably. She reaches up and puts a hand to my cheek. I place mine over hers as she begins to speak.
"But, here I am, married to you, James. Just because I love him still does not mean I must be unfaithful to you. I made a promise to you, and I intend to keep it."
With an air of finality on the subject she kisses my cheek and saunters out of the room without another word.
Authoress' Note: Don't forget to press that review button! Lots of cookies and love to those who do, and maybe free Snape plushies as well, because I love him so much.