Drabble: 'South Wind'
Some more James/Elizabeth for the drabble challenge of two weeks ago...
~ South Wind ~
A warm south wind was blowing the evening the Commodore and his new bride, the beautiful and long-desired Elizabeth, walked home from Mr. and Mrs. Fitzpatrick’s, where they had been dining.
The Commodore remarked, “It portends change of some sort, or so my old commander used to say.”
“An ill wind?” asked Elizabeth.
“Not necessarily, but definitely unsettling.”
Reaching their home, they were surprised to see a light shining from the parlour window, though the servants had been given leave for the night.
“Let me go first,” the Commodore said. Elizabeth acquiesced to the extent of staying a step behind him as he opened the door.
“Ah, there you are!” came a familiar voice, yet one they’d not heard in many months.
“Jack!” cried Elizabeth, pushing past her husband to greet their friend.
“Sparrow!” said the Commodore, in his driest tones. “What the devil are you doing in my parlour?”
“Waiting to kiss the bride of course,” said Jack, holding out his arms. Elizabeth came to him, smiling. “Took my advice, clever girl,” he murmured approvingly, and kissed her warmly.
Rather too warmly.
The Commodore cleared his throat. Or it might have been a growl. “Sparrow!”
“Hmmm?” Jack glanced over and his brows rose in alarm.
Elizabeth gave a chuff of laughter and disengaged, setting him away from her. “Incorrigible!”
“Irresistible!” pleaded Jack.
“Well, that’s true enough,” admitted the Commodore, his expression lightening somewhat. “Where have you been, Jack? It’s nearly a year since we saw you last.”
“Oh, here and there. All over, really. Well-traveled, the Pearl an’ me. But we’re back now, and I’ve brought you a wedding gift!” With a flourish, he indicated a wooden crate set neatly by the sideboard.
The Commodore went to examine it more closely. “You’ve brought us a case of stolen goods?”
“Stolen! Now what makes you think I’d do such a thing? You should know me better than that.”
“Should we? This crate bears the letters VOC on each side.”
“VOC?” asked Elizabeth. “Isn’t that the mark of the Dutch East India Company?”
“Verenigde Oostindische Compagnie,” said Jack. “Only it’s not, as it happens. Not on this crate.”
The Commodore looked skeptical. “What does it stand for then? Various odd curiosities?”
“Violet ottoman covers?” Elizabeth chuckled, entering into the spirit of the thing.
“Varnished oak candlesticks?” countered the Commodore.
“No, no, and no again!” Jack shook his head. “But close. The initials are right, which is why I used the crate. Got some glasses?”
“Glasses?”
“Aye.” The pirate lifted the lid of the crate and took out a dusty bottle. “Very Old Cognac, in honor of the happy event.”
“’Drink up me hearties, yo ho!’” Elizabeth’s eyes danced.
“Indeed!” agreed James, and finally smiled, too.
~.~
~ South Wind ~
A warm south wind was blowing the evening the Commodore and his new bride, the beautiful and long-desired Elizabeth, walked home from Mr. and Mrs. Fitzpatrick’s, where they had been dining.
The Commodore remarked, “It portends change of some sort, or so my old commander used to say.”
“An ill wind?” asked Elizabeth.
“Not necessarily, but definitely unsettling.”
Reaching their home, they were surprised to see a light shining from the parlour window, though the servants had been given leave for the night.
“Let me go first,” the Commodore said. Elizabeth acquiesced to the extent of staying a step behind him as he opened the door.
“Ah, there you are!” came a familiar voice, yet one they’d not heard in many months.
“Jack!” cried Elizabeth, pushing past her husband to greet their friend.
“Sparrow!” said the Commodore, in his driest tones. “What the devil are you doing in my parlour?”
“Waiting to kiss the bride of course,” said Jack, holding out his arms. Elizabeth came to him, smiling. “Took my advice, clever girl,” he murmured approvingly, and kissed her warmly.
Rather too warmly.
The Commodore cleared his throat. Or it might have been a growl. “Sparrow!”
“Hmmm?” Jack glanced over and his brows rose in alarm.
Elizabeth gave a chuff of laughter and disengaged, setting him away from her. “Incorrigible!”
“Irresistible!” pleaded Jack.
“Well, that’s true enough,” admitted the Commodore, his expression lightening somewhat. “Where have you been, Jack? It’s nearly a year since we saw you last.”
“Oh, here and there. All over, really. Well-traveled, the Pearl an’ me. But we’re back now, and I’ve brought you a wedding gift!” With a flourish, he indicated a wooden crate set neatly by the sideboard.
The Commodore went to examine it more closely. “You’ve brought us a case of stolen goods?”
“Stolen! Now what makes you think I’d do such a thing? You should know me better than that.”
“Should we? This crate bears the letters VOC on each side.”
“VOC?” asked Elizabeth. “Isn’t that the mark of the Dutch East India Company?”
“Verenigde Oostindische Compagnie,” said Jack. “Only it’s not, as it happens. Not on this crate.”
The Commodore looked skeptical. “What does it stand for then? Various odd curiosities?”
“Violet ottoman covers?” Elizabeth chuckled, entering into the spirit of the thing.
“Varnished oak candlesticks?” countered the Commodore.
“No, no, and no again!” Jack shook his head. “But close. The initials are right, which is why I used the crate. Got some glasses?”
“Glasses?”
“Aye.” The pirate lifted the lid of the crate and took out a dusty bottle. “Very Old Cognac, in honor of the happy event.”
“’Drink up me hearties, yo ho!’” Elizabeth’s eyes danced.
“Indeed!” agreed James, and finally smiled, too.
~.~