Norribeth story part two
Title: Halifax
Author: Naja_Nivea
Pairing: James/Elizabeth
Rating: PG-13
Warnings: Some naughty language.
Summary: An extremely overworked Norrington is pressganged into escorting several colonial leader and their families to Halifax for the season under the pretense it would help him relax.
Author's Notes: This is just a snippet of a long story I started writing. It takes place in the winter James turns 25 and Elizabeth is 17. I wanted to try and reconcile how the character from the first movie turned into the character from the second movie so I wanted to look at him when he was younger and not so well respected. I wanted to see what sort of reaction it got before I finished writting it.
Beta Credit: None.
Disclaimer: Not mine.
Part 2
This takes place about a day after the first section
“Mr. Gillette, we were just remarking that we were worried over the captain’s health. He has not come to join us for any meals today.” Mrs. Kingsley commented, her pouty lips set in a moue of polite concern.
“I can assure you that Captain Norrington is fine, mum.” Mr. Gibson cut in, reading the tenseness of Gillette’s shoulders. James must be in a high temper if even Gillette had lost patience with him.
“Then why has he not come to join us? I saw him barely above decks at all today?” Fanny cut in, trying to gain information for Elizabeth, who also skipped the more formal supper. Or more to the point been ordered to ‘refrain from moving in company until she could act like a civilized lady rather than a hissing, spitting cat’ by her aunt Mrs. Rochester.
“Well, he was wounded, I’m sure the surgeon thinks he should rest.” Mr. Gibson demurred.
“Since when does that bullheaded prat ever listen to the surgeon or anyone else for that matter?” Gillette snapped. “He isn’t staying in his cabin because he is wounded, he hiding in there and sulking because he is quarrelling with Miss Swann.”
“Quarrelling with Miss Swann?” Mr. Darcy asked. “Surely you jest, lieutenant? Those two have done nothing but quarrel with each other since before we even left port.”
“No, they have been bickering. Every time they get within speaking distance of one and other they bicker. Sometimes they do it through letters or common acquaintances. But this is different. Bickering implies a friendly disagreement with a level of respect and caring even though teasing may take place. Quarreling is wholly lacking the friendly and respectful component. Her complete and utter disregard for his orders and her rather harsh rebuke of his choice to pursue the pirates basically kicked his pride in the balls. And her comments about his rather obvious insecurity around highborn company hurt his feelings.” Gillette looked up from where he was pushing his food around, having forgotten that there were ladies present. “Begging your pardon ladies, my mouth tends to run off with me some times.” He smiled charmingly.
“Well why should it matter one whit what Miss Swann thinks? He won a good battle and a good amount of prize money for his crew. Why should her opinion mean so very much to him?” Lady Marple questioned, ever eyeing Miss Swann as a match for her nephew.
“Because he is either too dumb to realize or too stubborn to admit he is in love with her.” Gillette answered, still completely exasperated with the man.
“My vote is for too stubborn. Hasn’t everyone that has ever worked with him lamented that rather mulish streak of his?” Mr. Carmichael, captain of the marines threw in. He had served with James since he was a midshipman and had watched him grow and excel beyond what a penniless orphan should have been able to achieve. By his reckoning, a good deal of it could be chalked up to James’s stubborn and perfectionist nature.
“That we have, Mr. Carmichael, that we have. But I’m not entirely sure I agree with you. He is so very adamant about not taking a wife and does seem to treat her with a decided lack of affection compared to how a man should woo a woman. Yes, they write letters to one and other but have you ever read any of them? They are more about literature and politics than love and beauty. He even has discussed naval battles with her. I can’t see a gentleman attempting to turn the heart of a noble woman with discussion of knots and privateers.” Mr. Gibson threw in his thoughts.
“True, but you also have to take into account that he has been in the Navy since he was 12 and is an only child and raised by an unwed uncle. He may not know the right way to woo said highborn lass.”
“No one is that socially and romantically inept, Mr. Carmichael, not even our ill tempered captain.”
“My vote is squarely in the too stupid!” Gillette piped in sourly. “The man is as dense as a canon ball, when it comes to dealing with people. If he can’t order it, brow beat it, kill it, sail it, or blow it up; he has no idea what to do with it.” There was muffled laughter from the Reliant’s men around the table. Many had thought the same thing but none other than Gillette could get away with saying it. It was commonly agreed upon that Norrington needed to spend more time away from his ship and sea battles if he ever intended to deal with normal people.
“Don’t feel bad, Mr. Gillette.” Fanny soothed, “I shall have to deal with Elizabeth’s tantrums when I get back to our cabin. She has been simply impossible as well.” It was the women’s turn to agree wholeheartedly.
In James’s day cabin, Norrington sat behind his desk, furiously scribbling in a large tome when there was a knock at his door. “Enter” he barked, not in the mood to be disturbed. Lir even less so from his perch on the side of the desk, watching the quill dance across the page.
“Captain,” Elizabeth in toned evenly; she intended to hide any hurt she still felt.
“Yes, Miss Swann.” His voice was even as well but more towards angry than anything.
“I came to return your book. I have finished reading it.” She tossed it onto his desk, not caring that it was rather old and the binding was weak. She turned to leave.
“You’re welcome,” he called sarcastically out after her.
“What is that supposed to mean?” She stopped in the doorway.
“It means that it is polite to say ‘thank you’ to someone after they loan you something.”
“What would you know of being polite? A gentleman doesn’t call a lady names and embarrass her in front of the entire ship.”
He rose and leaned against the door frame, partially forcing her out, his injured hand resting on jam. “Neither does a lady or a sailor disregard a captain’s direct order, risk the lives of the crew, and then verbally attack the captain for doing his job.”
“Then I suppose I’m not a true lady then,” she huffed and slammed the door in his face, eliciting a screeched of profanity. The door opened again quickly, “what is wrong with you?” she questioned before she realized she had shut his wounded hand in the door. “Oh my, I’m sorry. Does it hurt?”
“You just slammed a gunshot wound in a door, you idiot, of course it hurts.” He bellowed, clutching his wounded hand to his chest.
Elizabeth could see the bloom of red blood against the white bandages, even though he was trying to hide it. “Let me see it.” She ordered him.
“No.” he pulled his hand even tighter against him, almost tucking it under his right arm.
“Don’t be such a child,” she scolded him and reach again for him, as he back up further into the cabin. He shook his head vigorously. “Let me look at it or I will go get Mr. Gillette and the surgeon,” she threatened.
“Fine,” he relented and proffered his wounded wing to her.
She began to unwrap the now wet bandage and saw him biting his lip, his eyes very shiny and he hissed in pain as she prodded the wound. It was red and ugly. “I’m sorry.” She offered for causing him more pain. “It has reopened,” she commented feeling vaguely sick at the sight of it. “I should send for the surgeon to stitch it back up.”
“No,” he pulled his hand back and looked at it. “It wasn’t closed to begin with. He’ll just clean it and rewrap it anyway. I can do it myself.” The sight of his own blood didn’t faze him nearly as much as thought of hers.
“Nonsense, I’ll do it.”
“Miss Swann,” he began as she shoved him into his chair, looking around for what she might need but having no clue.”
“There is no way that you can take care of that on your own. Now, I just need,” she paused not knowing what she needed.
“Sea water,” he offered helpfully, hiding a slight smile at being able to call her bluff.
“A basin,” which she found, while heading towards the door to order one of the men to bring water. “and?”
“Alcohol, maybe the gin in that cupboard over there.”
“Thank you, and bandages?”
“Chest in the corner.” He answered, as a cabin boy brought a sloshing pail of sea water in. She retrieved them and sat down to mix the solution under his watchful eye. “Wait,” he told her as she went to put the gin back in the cupboard. He took several large swallows of it, ignoring her shock, before he then dunked his hand in it, eliciting a hiss and more almost tears. She pulled it back out and she began to clean it more thoroughly.
Unable to concentrate on the wound because of the goriness of it, she blurted out what she had wanted to say for over a day, “I’m sorry.”
“Don’t worry, it was an accident.” He told her through clenched teeth.
“No not about this, well sort of. I mean when you were shot originally. I should have listened to you and stayed away from them.” She told him as she concentrated on his hand.
“I’m sorry too, Miss Swann. I should have had them searched more thoroughly and under better guard.”
“I’m sorry I said those awful things to you. I don’t think you are vain or a glory hound. I know that hunting pirates is your job.” She ran her fingers softly along the flesh of his thumb, admiring his elegant hands.
“I don’t think you are foolish or stupid. You have no way of knowing how horrid they really are because you have never really met a pirate.”
“I’m also sorry that marine died.” She held his hand tightly, afraid he would pull away.
He sighed but continued, “I’m sorry I threatened to strip you naked and whip you until you screamed.”
“You what?” She didn’t remember that part.
“Remember, I said I would have you kissing the gunner’s daughter and tasting my cat.” He looked up at her.
She also looked up at the same time. “That’s what that meant. I thought you were talking about Lir or something.” Their eyes locked for a moment and then they both started to laugh. “I do think that you are far too unsure of yourself around the notables of Britain though.” She offered, still gently dabbing at his hand. “You have so very much more to recommend you than any of them do.”
“Even Master Darcy?” He joked. Even he had noticed how the young man had latched on to Elizabeth.
“Especially Master Darcy.”
“I do think that you are fanciful and spoilt but that’s fine because I much prefer the company of people with a little spirit and imagination.”
They were only inches from each other, their noses almost touching. He could hear her breath hitch as they both leaned in closer and her hand went up to stroke his cheek, when he heard, “Captain?” coming from Mr. Gibson outside of the door.
He ducked his head away from her quickly, “yes, Mr. Gibson?”
“I didn’t mean to interrupt anything?” He questioned sternly, noticing that there was no escort for the two and the door had been closed. “but I brought you some supper.”
“Thank you. Miss Swann was just helping to rebandage my hand, but you can help me so she may go. Thank you Ms Swann”, he smiled almost shyly at her and she smiled brightly back at him.
“Yes sir. Good evening, Miss Swann,” Mr. Gibson was starting to change is opinion on the captain’s feelings towards one Elizabeth Swann. Maybe he was just that socially retarded that he thought having her tend a gunshot wound and writing letters about naval tactics and East India Trading Company politics was the way to woo a highborn bride.