Rubicon Chapter Fourteen
Title: Rubicon Chapter Fourteen
Word Count: 1, 344
Rating: PG
Characters: Lord Beckett, his wife, James Norrington, Murtogg and a handful of OCs.
Pairing: Lord Beckett/OC
Disclaimer: I claim no ownership of Pirates of the Caribbean.
Summary/Author’s Note: Lady Beckett’s diary entry. Thanks to everyone who took the time to read and comment on the last chapter! As always, I do not have a beta for this fic so all mistakes that appear are my fault alone. Enjoy!
May 30, 1731
Dearest Diary,
It is pleasant to be in Port Royal once more. The countryside provides certain delights but after our last sojourn there, I believe we shall never return.
Cutler swears the humid air had something horrid to do with my health. He says he wishes us to stay in the town from now on, lest I need a doctor. I will not argue with him, I still haven’t the strength. After all, I shouldn’t wish to leave my son now, especially as I am expecting another child.
It is a strange thing. I always thought we should have a large family and yet I have grown so accustomed to young Cutler, I could not imagine having a new babe.
But oh it is wondrous news and my husband is overjoyed, though he still wishes the babe might be born on proper English soil. The Caribbean will have to do, I suppose.
We were forced to remain at Lord Nesbitt’s plantation another week after my illness took hold. Doctor Carey would not allow me to travel, no matter how heatedly Cutler fought with him. I did not mind so much.
Even at the end of the week Doctor Carey was hesitant. But I think Cutler would have no more of it.
Upon our return, Cutler said he did not wish all of Port Royal to know of my sickness. I agreed. It would be better not to have the stares of all follow me, more so than usual that is.
Illness is equated with weakness and I will not be seen as weak. No, that shall not do.
I think I have much recovered for a time though. A few good meals have brought me to my feet and sitting in the garden does me well. Only once did my husband think to warn me against spending time in our garden. He fears every breeze will be the death of me.
I will not permit him to hinder me so. The garden is my sanctuary and he shall not keep me from it.
I do not think Cutler had the will to argue further with me. He dropped the matter at once and said nothing more.
I worry for him, greatly. Of late he has changed. I have noticed his paranoia, his withdrawn state. I wonder what vexes him. I pray it is not my illness or the coming of the new child. He is happy, isn’t he?
My curiosity gets the better of me or perhaps it is my fear. I was bold, last Tuesday, when I dared to pry into his unease. I thought to visit him at his offices, where for hours at a time he shuts himself up, away from the world and away from me.
It was not my place, but I went anyway taking Agnes with me. I knew he would scold me so fiercely for going out and about but I did not care.
The building was stately and handsome. Cutler had pointed it out to me in passing one day. Soldiers stood around and as the carriage pulled up, one hurried to help me down.
“My lady!” he exclaimed and bowed as low as he could. “What brings you here today? Might I help you?”
“What is your name, good man?” I asked.
He smiled and bowed once more. “Private Murtogg, my lady.”
“Then would you be so kind as to tell my husband that I am here to see him,” I said. Private Murtogg appeared flustered.
“Of course, my lady. I shall see him straight away, straight away, my lady.” And he hurried off, leaving Agnes and I to stand before the carriage.
We seemed to wait for a long time and I grew impatient. My strength, as I have mentioned, has not yet returned and it taxes me to stand for so long. At long last Private Murtogg returned, this time with Admiral Norrington by his side.
I was happy to see him for I find him most kind, if not sorrowful. He smiled, bowed and kissed my hand.
“Lady Beckett, I am so sorry you were kept waiting,” he said and I waved away his apology.
“I have come to see my husband,” I said. Like Private Murtogg had appeared before, Norrington looked flustered.
“He is out, my lady and I know not when he shall return,” Norrington replied. He glanced at the carriage then, as if willing me to dash away once more. But I would not be so easily appeased.
“I will await him then,” I said. Admiral Norrington’s face flushed.
“Are you sure, my lady? The day is warm.” He looked at me doubtfully, his eyes finding my pale, thin face. I covered it with my fan at once.
“I shall wait inside,” I answered. And I walked past him, not giving him a moment to reply. I did not think he would argue with me, but I would certainly not give him the opportunity to.
The hall was long and dark and cool. I sank into a chair that was pushed up against the wood-paneled wood. I had neither the mind nor the energy to explore the place. Admiral Norrington stood across from me underneath a portrait of some long-gone governor. His hands were knotted behind his back and he watched me.
Quiet men can be quite good for conversation, I have found. They must be negotiated and cajoled and prodded at until they finally agree to speak. And once they do, I have found the results to be most startling. Quiet men know much more than any can tell.
Our conversation started with small questions and light talk. I then questioned him further, asked him of his family and life and why he came to the Caribbean.
At first, he would speak very little. Then at last he admitted to having a mother and father, both of whom had died. I expressed my sympathy, having also lost a parent.
He told me he came to the Caribbean as a Lieutenant in the Navy but spoke no more on the matter.
A good while past before the dear man would continue. He steered away from my heavy questions and spoke of his new position as an Admiral. Little did I know then how helpful such talk could be.
“There is unfairness in all this,” Norrington said at length. I nodded and clucked my tongue. He smiled, seeming to enjoy my attention.
“I never expected to be in such a fortunate position,” he continued. “Nor do I consider it fair, even after such a trade I made with your husband.”
And then he looked terrified, his eyes going wide and his hands clenching into fists. I pitied him, for it seemed he had said something he wished never to be uttered. Exercising the utmost civility, I pretended to ignore the comment, though in my private hours, I still ponder it.
What sort of trade passed between them?
Unfortunately, I did not speak with Admiral Norrington any longer that day or I might have learned more. Cutler came into the hall shortly afterwards and ushered me away. Norrington bid me farewell and disappeared into some adjourning room. Poor dear, he is nearly as pale and drawn as I.
Cutler did not scold me for coming to see him. He took me home in the carriage and then stayed with me for the rest of the day. We sat in the gardens with our son and watched as the twilight deepened.
I can see the fear in his eyes, that desperate, clawing fear that torments him. He is frightened for me and I am frightened for myself. Doctor Carey says that I am stronger than most in my condition, but the illness has already settled deep in my lungs.
To most, consumption is fatal.
But I will not think of it now. I am well for the time being and happiness can be found in such sweet moments.
Lady Anne Beckett