Fic: Recovery (1/?)
This is my first fic in this fandom, it's unbeta-ed I didn't write it for the what if challenge, I've been working on it for a bit but it sort of a what if from before canon. It'll be about four/five bits long I think, I'm a slow writer, but parts 2 and 3 are nearly done.
Title: Recovery (1/?)
Pairing: Norribeth, with mentions of Will/Elizabeth
Genre(s): Drama/Romance/Hurt!Comfort
Warning: Utterly AU, mentions of sexual assault, Elizabeth is underage by modern law. Mentions of non-con, sexual assault.
Spoilers: CotBP only
Summary: The Black Pearl gets to Port Royal when Elizabeth and Will are fifteen and things go quite differently.
Rating: 15ish?
Word Count: 4488
There had been a pall cast over the Governor’s household and it was noticeable as Captain Norrington waited in the entrance hall. Even the servants seemed affected and James’ guilt was like a palpable weight in his stomach, a constant presence that he was learning to live with. The sight of Governor Swann, looking as if he had aged ten years however only increased it.
“How is she?” he asked against all propriety, it was not his business. But James had been there when they recovered Elizabeth from the Black Pearl. The memory fueled nightmares and a black hatred for pirates beyond anything in his previous experience.
“Unchanged.” The Governor said, tight lipped and drawn. “Physically, she is healing.but her mental state remains unchanged.” The helplessness in the Governor’s voice was tangible and there was a pause. “Tell me what of the boy?” he said, “she will ask after him you know.”
James Norrington did know. “Recovering from his injuries, but much the same . . .this tale of undead pirates . . ." he shook his head, something they appeared to have come with together to cope with what had happened to them. It had been odd though, the ship deserted when they'd arrived. Will taken ashore and Elizabeth left locked in a cabin alone. He'd been the one to find her, in the state they'd left her in.
"I’ve seen that Mr. Brown allows him time. He blames himself.” James blamed him as well. It was, he knew, small minded of him to do so, the boy was fifteen years old and if he should not have been wading on the seashore with Elizabeth, he could hardly have predicted the outcome should be kidnap by pirates. Nor was James foolish enough to think the venture had been Master Turner’s notion. But he should have said no to Elizabeth and all this would never have happened. “He has written her a missive of apology,” he said, reaching into his pocket for the laboriously written note. “I told him it would be to your discretion as to whether she received it.” He paused, Governor Swann would likely want no more contact between the pair, “I thought it might be a comfort to her to read it.” This then was his explanation of why he had bothered to deliver the thing.
There was hesitation and the Governor took it, “I suppose it might,” he handed it to a maid and gestured James into his study. Awkwardly James followed unsure of how to broach the subject he had come here to discuss.
“The hangings,” he said to begin. “There is no need for delay of course.” The men of the black pearl were pirates all the sentence was obvious and could be immediate. The topic however, “if it would benefit her to attend delays could be arranged.” In ordinary circumstances the suggestion that a injured fifteen year old girl should attend the hangings of those who had assaulted her was of course unthinkable but Elizabeth. . . James thought perhaps the closure could be of help to her.
Swann shuddered, “no,” he said decisively. “No, word of it will have to do, she’s not well enough, I don’t know that she will be for some time.” James nodded, his own thoughts on the matter perhaps did not agree but he would not argue with the Governor, it was not his place.
“I’ll make arrangements and send word when it’s done, and the other matter is complete also.” Pardoning Jack Sparrow had galled him but it had been a price worth paying in the end. Though if Sparrow could have worked quicker . . . it was too late for that now. “If there is any other way I can assist,” there was not, he knew that yet he had to offer.
“No,” said Governor Swann his tone stiff, his gaze not on James but out of the window towards the coast. “No assistance is required, Captain, not unless you can turn back time, keep my daughter safe,” there was a twist in his voice, “find some future for her now she is ruined,” he shook his head, “Even in England I could not find her a husband. Not after this.”
James started, he had been so concerned for her he had not so much considered her future. At least not since the incident, though he had admitted to himself on his previous return to Port Royal, that Elizabeth had grown up. She had been due to début soon and he had thought he might approach her father. By the time Elizabeth had had her season, he had hoped he might be closer to securing a promotion, a salary that could support a family, a rank that might make him closer to her own. But now none of that mattered but that Elizabeth should suffer for what was in a sense his failure was not acceptable. And she no doubt would suffer, he'd been foolish not to think on it, no doubt the rumours were already rife.
“I cannot change the past,” he said obviously and hesitant. “Would that I could,” he paused, it was the wrong time to bring it up he knew that, and yet if he could ease the Governor’s worries in any way. If could protect Elizabeth in some small way. “It is not what you would have wanted for her,” he stated obviously inwardly cursing his own foolishness, “but if a future as a Captain’s wife could acquire her consent, and yours, I should be glad to offer it.”
He felt very small under Weatherby Swann’s gaze just then, and yet did not withdraw the offer. “I would want her married as soon as possible,” came the most unexpected reply. James had rather though a long engagement would suit Elizabeth better, allow her a chance to put this behind her and to perhaps have the limited season available to an engaged woman. She was still of course so young. He's brought back by more words from his future father in law. “I would, of course, expect you to accept any consequences of…” The Governor trailed off unable to phrase the words, to further describe the assault upon his daughter.
It took a moment for James to take his meaning. He nodded stiffly. That would explain the need for haste. If the attack had left Elizabeth with child, then that child would need a father and Elizabeth would need support through such an event let alone young motherhood. “As soon as possible, with her consent, when she recovers.” The Elizabeth he had brought back from the Black Pearl had not had the wherewithal to consent to a dance let alone a marriage.
He had no sooner thought this of her, when with a burst and a crash Elizabeth slammed through the door of her father's study helter skelter. She was wild eyed and panicked and her honey blonde curls were tangled and rumpled. He was shocked to note before he averted his eyes that she still wore the naval issue night shirt that had been given her once he had carried her about the Dauntless. The dressing gown she wore over it was open and the shirt fell only to her knees and gaped at the collar. He had seen once again the bruises on her neck and delicate flesh that haunted his nightmares. They were no longer dark and vivid but turning yellow and green and yet still very distinctly the shapes of hands and fingertips, the mark the pirates had left upon her. He felt sick, to have civilised Port Royal and yet allowed this to happen. Her split lip was almost healed but a bruise on her cheek seemed not to have faded at all. There were other marks as well, hidden by the night shirt but he knew of them, he could see them in his minds eye.
"Father," Elizabeth exclaimed, not so much as noticing him. "You must let me see Will at once. He thinks this is his fault and it was not at all." Governor Swann looked very much like he wanted to disagree quite strongly with this sentiment and not wanting to be present for an argument, (for knowing Elizabeth there surely would be one,) James interjected.
"It's no-one's fault, no-one but the pirates themselves and they are all to hang." Elizabeth looked at him as if seeing him for the very first time and blushed pulled her dressing gown closed. He had seen more of her nakedness on the Pearl when they had retrieved her and she had clung to his familiarity while he wrapped her in his coat before he had ensconced her in his cabin and found her the night shirt she still wore. She must remember that he'd seen and feel shamed and he felt again the burden of guilt.
"When?" she said at once, a strange light in their eyes and James' looked helplessly to the Governor.
"Elizabeth, your attendance is out of the question. You aren't well." her father told her at once and immediately Elizabeth turned to the Captain but before she could request his aid. As she might have done when being particularly stubborn in the past, but instead she suddenly withdrew into herself. "Will is not to blame himself," she said again quietly.
"Perhaps you would wish to return his note," James suggested, "write him something to that affect." He had overstepped of course, but the Governors seemed not to notice, caught up in relief, in plans for Elizabeth.
"Yes, yes," he said, "perhaps then you might feel well enough to dress? And join the Captain and myself for tea." Elizabeth fled the study without another word.
When she appeared quite some time later, she did not look overly neater if she was somewhat more covered, the dress she wore was dark and old and looked to be too tight on her. From it's cut it was a child's dress not a woman's and despite the height of the neck line, still those bruises showed. She had not touched her hair and bare feet peeped out from under the hem. Her father said nothing to this haphazard appearance and even looked relieved. James understood that this was the first time she must have been out of bed. Especially if she was wearing his nightshirt. She must have been abed since he brought her home. In one hand she clutched a sealed note, she had obviously been more occupied in writing to Master Turner.
She sat quietly with them and fidgeted ignoring the tea and the biscuits and the small neatly cut sandwiches. James had no appetite yet he ate politely and forced down a cup of tea as they sat in awkward silence. Elizabeth gazed at her lap and her cheeks were flush and James felt he was very much making her uncomfortable. He was about to make and excuse to leave.
Therefore he was dismayed then when the Governor, who understandably wanted no time to be wasted, pushed the matter, giving the Captain a meaningful look. "Elizabeth, why don't you take some air, Captain Norrington will escort you I'm sure." James had agreed to the haste and Elizabeth did seem lucid again, so he nodded and stood and offered her a arm. She did not take it merely looked at him wide eyed and they made their way to the garden's in silence. He wanted to ask did she not want shoes but he did not and once outside she wandered ahead of him finding a shaded spot and sitting herself on a bench pushing her bare feet into the dewy grass and curling up her toes.
He had no idea what to say, he had thought to have years to before this was anything more than a distant possibility. Not to spring himself on a traumatised girl who had not so much as been presented to society and for a moment he resented Weatherby Swann, despite his good intentions. In the end he was still formulating his approach when Elizabeth spoke first quite startling him.
"I want to attend the hangings," she told him directly, her voice flat and stripped, perhaps deliberately, of emotion.
"I understand," he told her after a long pause, she'd made it quite clear earlier "truly I do understand, but the decision remains your father's." She looked annoyed and for a moment he felt relieved, annoyance at him foolishly enough was preferable to the fragile damaged expressions that ghosted across her countenance. Of course having annoyed her was perhaps the one thing that could make the circumstances for a proposal less favourable and he decided to plough on anyway. He had determined he would ask for her hand and so he would do so.
"Miss Swann . . . Elizabeth," he swallowed, "your father is quite concerned about your future."
"No-one will marry me," she said at once, matter of factly, "I heard the maids talking but I already knew I was ruined." The other worry she did not mention but that may be some hint of properness. Or it may not have occurred to her that she might be left with a more permanent reminder of the attack and he would not be the one to put the thought in her head.
He reached for her hand, but she pulled away further. Foolish of him. "Elizabeth," he began, "you are very young and what happened to you it was unspeakable." He swallowed, "You are becoming a fine woman, Elizabeth, you should have been able to make a fine match in some years time. That you cannot . . ." He trailed off. "If it would suit however I can offer, wife of a mere Captain, it is less than you deserve I am aware. But I would marry you, Elizabeth, if you would have me. "
She looked startled and shied away and for a moment he cursed himself, too soon, too much, too unexpected.
"Why on earth would you want to marry me?" she asked looking genuinely bewildered.
"Have we not always been friends?" he asked gently, he could not say that he had considered courting her, she was not out, and that seemed ridiculous considered he was proposing. But the last thing she needed now was the pressure of his interest. "I know that you are very young and that you have been hurt. Whatever time you needed I would give you, whatever you needed I would provide . . ." His arguments are cast aside by that phrasing.
"What I need," she said, "is to attend those hangings," her face was lit suddenly with fury and he knew at once that it would be better for her to attend. To have closure, to know that the men who harmed her were dead and to see it for herself. She stood and for a moment her entire frame seemed filled with nervous energy. "You have to make Father see that," she told him determined. "That's what I need, then I'll marry you." With that she pushed the letter for Will into his hand, and ran for the house and though he would like to follow he could not push her more than he had.
After a suitable pause he was heading in just as Governor Swann stepped out looking vexed, "I take it that it did not go well." he said. There was a distinct implication that this was the Captain's fault.
"Ah no," he said, "it could have went better," he hesitated, "her acceptance is conditional."
"Conditional," said the Governor, his ruffled feathers smoothed, "I'm sure we can accommodate her, whatever she wants." He hesitated, for all the upset, this was Elizabeth after all, "what did she want?"
"To attend the hangings," James said shortly getting directly to the point.
"That's all?" said Swann, his surprise evident. "Well I suppose delays must be arranged then." The Governor seemed suddenly much more his usual self though still much much older. "I suppose it would hardly be my place to forbid Mrs. Norrington from attending."
An unsubtle way of informing the Captain that this marriage would be taking place before any hangings, but the rest was simple formalities. James struggled with the Governor over details, it was not his intent to profit from this marriage but nor would Swann have his daughter living in anything but the manner she had grown up accustomed and the resolution was reached that a town house would be purchased in the governor's own name that the young couple could live in. He did first suggest in her name but that was no different to deeding it to James. At least Weatherby intended to break it to his daughter himself that she would be wed before any hangings took place.
James left shortly, he had arrangements to make for longer term jailing, and to call at chapel to arrange for banns to be read. Despite these tasks the first thing he did was deliver Elizabeth's letter to young Master Turner, her missive much outweighed the one she had received and he wondered at it's contents.
The time passes swiftly and James' involvement in arrangements was minimal. It was less than a month later that he stood up, in dress uniform at the front of the chapel and spoke his vows to Elizabeth. The wedding was small and scarcely attended and the party after to be the same. Most of Port Royal would not turn out for the wedding of a 'ruined' girl, Governor's daughter or not. His side of the church was far fuller, men from the fort turning out to support their captain. Elizabeth spoke more quietly at church than he had ever heard her and the burden of guilt increased. It was obviously too soon for her and he tried his best to be reassuring. She trembled when he pressed his lips to hers for the proper and delicate kiss that sealed their union. She was still two months shy of her sixteenth birthday and somehow looked younger now than she had before the incident, she'd had lost weight and carried herself differently. It grieved him to see it, as expected as it might be after such trauma.
He wanted to do anything, say anything, that might reassure her and was gratified beyond belief when during the dinner served, she reached under the table and grasped his hand. She held so hard that it actually hurt and he smiled at her and she tried shakily to return it. She had smiled at him that way on the Black Pearl, when he had rescued her, though then blood had trickled from her split lip and he knew suddenly that it was a smile of relief. Though she might understandably be nervous and frightened it did not follow that she was frightened of him and if he were simply patient, she might find some recovery.
Of course it being a wedding party even a quiet one eventually the music struck up and they did not lead the dancing. Elizabeth was staring at her untouched plate, clinging to his hand and very occasionally sipping her wine as if for lack of anything else to do. The father of the bride gave the new couple several pointed looks and eventually James turned to his new wife. "Elizabeth?" he said questioning, she stared harder at the plate and there was a silence and finally she answered sounding as if it was hard to get the words out. "Don't want to." she whispered.
"Then you shan't have to," he promised immediately and he ignored the looks of his father in law and continued on to be unimaginably rude by not dancing with anyone else either. He did not leave Elizabeth's side and though he did not once relax his returned grip on her hand, he could hardly imagine himself to be a comfort. She looked visibly more uncomfortable as time went on, through it all the one solace was the hold she had on his hand. If she had to cling to something it was as well it should be him. As small as the party was, the few officer's wives that Port Royal had all made the effort to talk to her. James could not help but think such sensible women might prove better company for her, no matter what society thought.
Eventually thought they were in a carriage bound for the house that would be home. Neither of them spoke and Elizabeth released his hand to sit as far away from him on the seat as she could manage and peer out of the window into the night air. In their new home, which was grand in design but sparse and plainly furnished James told her that he had savings put aside for decorating and that he thought that he might leave it to her. He led her upstairs and was grateful to see her examining the house with interest. Though it could have been simply that she did not wish to look at him. Though the servants here did not usually spend the night, he had arranged for a maid to stay late to help Elizabeth undress, her gown (intended for her début not her wedding) was fancy and she would have struggled on her own. Nor could he offer to help. It did not occur to him to simply let her retire on her own but things were unspoken between them and he would not have her lie awake waiting and wondering over her fate.
He removed his wig and jacket and waist coat and then wondered if that was a mistake, perhaps he should have stayed formal. He had a drink of brandy and made his way back to Elizabeth's room. He knocked gently to warn her before he entered. The maid had departed and Elizabeth sat in a chair her knees pulled up to her chin, she was dressed in a flowing white night dress and though she was no longer bruised, he could see them in his minds eye. She seemed to shudder then stood and stepped towards him as if stealing herself for something.
He had to correct her, "I came to bid you good night," he said all in a rush, "my room is just down the hall should you need anything." There was a long pause where she seemed not to understand, then she visibly relaxed. She crept closer and pressed the swiftest brush of a kiss to his cheek before sitting herself on the bed. He nodded and turned to go, but then she spoke.
Her voice was quiet still and she seemed to be almost addressing herself at first. "I should be a proper wife at least once," she said. "Mary said so." The maid he realised, "for then if. . .
if," she could not state it outright it would seem. "I would not know and that would be better," she was obviously quoting the maid there for she suddenly scoffed and sounded almost for a moment like her old self. "How can not knowing be
better!" She hugged herself, "but I don't want to," she said.
"I would never insist on it," he told her seriously, and she looked at him, he could not read that look, contempt for men in general or him specifically.
"It doesn't matter anyway," she said finally. "My courses are three days late." Her voice twisted and the long silence grew, he had no words of comfort for this, and he stood stock still. He had no words at all. "Elizabeth. . ." he managed finally.
"I'm tired now," she interrupted clambering into the covers. It was clearly a dismissal and he had no option but to take it, despite wanting to comfort her, to help her in some way. Instead he did the only thing he could he rearranged her blankets neatly tucking her in, smoothed her hair and kissed her forehead. On his return to his own room, he found sleep very hard to come by indeed.
In the end, he would be glad of that, it was only because he lay awake that he heard her. He did not wake easily and the soft shriek was not after all comparatively loud. When he reached her side, the noise had become a moan, she was not properly awake and he reached for her to jolt her from her nightmare.
That was a mistake, the instant he touched her, no more than a brief touch on the arm, the moan became a shriek a proper one and she sat bolt upright to flail against him, beating her fists against his chest, tears in her eyes.
He let her do it, murmuring her name and assurances that he would never hurt her, he did not think she heard any of it and her assault on him only ceased when she twisted away from him to fling herself from the bed. She fled the room and he heard the sound of retching as she vomited.
He wanted to go after her and yet held back, he fetched her a drink of water instead. She ignored it when she came back, and sat on the bed and then very hesitantly took it. "I have nightmares," she said matter of factly.
"Yes, I should have thought," he said seriously. "Is there anything . . ." She looked at him. "I suppose not," he said.
"You shouldn't have married me," she told him. "I'm not ruined, I'm ruined" she looked down, "I hate it," she said.
He had no idea what she hated exactly, the act itself? the talk? the worrying notion of being left with a child from it, that had turned from a distant terrible notion to a horrifying very real possibility.
"You are not ruined," he said finally, "truly not, what happened to you was a terrible thing, but you are who you always were, time heals all wounds and you shall have all the time you need Elizabeth." One slender hand ghosted along her flat stomach as if she did not have the words for the worry. Neither did he, "whatever happens, I shall take care of you," he said. "Both of you if that is the case, the child would not be to blame." The look she gave him seemed to indicate his understanding of this matter was non-existent and when wordlessly she crawled back into the covers, he made to leave but she held out and grasped his hand.
So James Norrington spent the remainder of his wedding night lying atop the covers unable to sleep watching his young wife drift in and out of nightmares all the while clutching tightly to his hand. It was a mere fortnight until the scheduled hangings and James found himself counting the minutes until the men who had done this received their deserved justice.
Title: Recovery (1/?)
Pairing: Norribeth, with mentions of Will/Elizabeth
Genre(s): Drama/Romance/Hurt!Comfort
Warning: Utterly AU, mentions of sexual assault, Elizabeth is underage by modern law. Mentions of non-con, sexual assault.
Spoilers: CotBP only
Summary: The Black Pearl gets to Port Royal when Elizabeth and Will are fifteen and things go quite differently.
Rating: 15ish?
Word Count: 4488
There had been a pall cast over the Governor’s household and it was noticeable as Captain Norrington waited in the entrance hall. Even the servants seemed affected and James’ guilt was like a palpable weight in his stomach, a constant presence that he was learning to live with. The sight of Governor Swann, looking as if he had aged ten years however only increased it.
“How is she?” he asked against all propriety, it was not his business. But James had been there when they recovered Elizabeth from the Black Pearl. The memory fueled nightmares and a black hatred for pirates beyond anything in his previous experience.
“Unchanged.” The Governor said, tight lipped and drawn. “Physically, she is healing.but her mental state remains unchanged.” The helplessness in the Governor’s voice was tangible and there was a pause. “Tell me what of the boy?” he said, “she will ask after him you know.”
James Norrington did know. “Recovering from his injuries, but much the same . . .this tale of undead pirates . . ." he shook his head, something they appeared to have come with together to cope with what had happened to them. It had been odd though, the ship deserted when they'd arrived. Will taken ashore and Elizabeth left locked in a cabin alone. He'd been the one to find her, in the state they'd left her in.
"I’ve seen that Mr. Brown allows him time. He blames himself.” James blamed him as well. It was, he knew, small minded of him to do so, the boy was fifteen years old and if he should not have been wading on the seashore with Elizabeth, he could hardly have predicted the outcome should be kidnap by pirates. Nor was James foolish enough to think the venture had been Master Turner’s notion. But he should have said no to Elizabeth and all this would never have happened. “He has written her a missive of apology,” he said, reaching into his pocket for the laboriously written note. “I told him it would be to your discretion as to whether she received it.” He paused, Governor Swann would likely want no more contact between the pair, “I thought it might be a comfort to her to read it.” This then was his explanation of why he had bothered to deliver the thing.
There was hesitation and the Governor took it, “I suppose it might,” he handed it to a maid and gestured James into his study. Awkwardly James followed unsure of how to broach the subject he had come here to discuss.
“The hangings,” he said to begin. “There is no need for delay of course.” The men of the black pearl were pirates all the sentence was obvious and could be immediate. The topic however, “if it would benefit her to attend delays could be arranged.” In ordinary circumstances the suggestion that a injured fifteen year old girl should attend the hangings of those who had assaulted her was of course unthinkable but Elizabeth. . . James thought perhaps the closure could be of help to her.
Swann shuddered, “no,” he said decisively. “No, word of it will have to do, she’s not well enough, I don’t know that she will be for some time.” James nodded, his own thoughts on the matter perhaps did not agree but he would not argue with the Governor, it was not his place.
“I’ll make arrangements and send word when it’s done, and the other matter is complete also.” Pardoning Jack Sparrow had galled him but it had been a price worth paying in the end. Though if Sparrow could have worked quicker . . . it was too late for that now. “If there is any other way I can assist,” there was not, he knew that yet he had to offer.
“No,” said Governor Swann his tone stiff, his gaze not on James but out of the window towards the coast. “No assistance is required, Captain, not unless you can turn back time, keep my daughter safe,” there was a twist in his voice, “find some future for her now she is ruined,” he shook his head, “Even in England I could not find her a husband. Not after this.”
James started, he had been so concerned for her he had not so much considered her future. At least not since the incident, though he had admitted to himself on his previous return to Port Royal, that Elizabeth had grown up. She had been due to début soon and he had thought he might approach her father. By the time Elizabeth had had her season, he had hoped he might be closer to securing a promotion, a salary that could support a family, a rank that might make him closer to her own. But now none of that mattered but that Elizabeth should suffer for what was in a sense his failure was not acceptable. And she no doubt would suffer, he'd been foolish not to think on it, no doubt the rumours were already rife.
“I cannot change the past,” he said obviously and hesitant. “Would that I could,” he paused, it was the wrong time to bring it up he knew that, and yet if he could ease the Governor’s worries in any way. If could protect Elizabeth in some small way. “It is not what you would have wanted for her,” he stated obviously inwardly cursing his own foolishness, “but if a future as a Captain’s wife could acquire her consent, and yours, I should be glad to offer it.”
He felt very small under Weatherby Swann’s gaze just then, and yet did not withdraw the offer. “I would want her married as soon as possible,” came the most unexpected reply. James had rather though a long engagement would suit Elizabeth better, allow her a chance to put this behind her and to perhaps have the limited season available to an engaged woman. She was still of course so young. He's brought back by more words from his future father in law. “I would, of course, expect you to accept any consequences of…” The Governor trailed off unable to phrase the words, to further describe the assault upon his daughter.
It took a moment for James to take his meaning. He nodded stiffly. That would explain the need for haste. If the attack had left Elizabeth with child, then that child would need a father and Elizabeth would need support through such an event let alone young motherhood. “As soon as possible, with her consent, when she recovers.” The Elizabeth he had brought back from the Black Pearl had not had the wherewithal to consent to a dance let alone a marriage.
He had no sooner thought this of her, when with a burst and a crash Elizabeth slammed through the door of her father's study helter skelter. She was wild eyed and panicked and her honey blonde curls were tangled and rumpled. He was shocked to note before he averted his eyes that she still wore the naval issue night shirt that had been given her once he had carried her about the Dauntless. The dressing gown she wore over it was open and the shirt fell only to her knees and gaped at the collar. He had seen once again the bruises on her neck and delicate flesh that haunted his nightmares. They were no longer dark and vivid but turning yellow and green and yet still very distinctly the shapes of hands and fingertips, the mark the pirates had left upon her. He felt sick, to have civilised Port Royal and yet allowed this to happen. Her split lip was almost healed but a bruise on her cheek seemed not to have faded at all. There were other marks as well, hidden by the night shirt but he knew of them, he could see them in his minds eye.
"Father," Elizabeth exclaimed, not so much as noticing him. "You must let me see Will at once. He thinks this is his fault and it was not at all." Governor Swann looked very much like he wanted to disagree quite strongly with this sentiment and not wanting to be present for an argument, (for knowing Elizabeth there surely would be one,) James interjected.
"It's no-one's fault, no-one but the pirates themselves and they are all to hang." Elizabeth looked at him as if seeing him for the very first time and blushed pulled her dressing gown closed. He had seen more of her nakedness on the Pearl when they had retrieved her and she had clung to his familiarity while he wrapped her in his coat before he had ensconced her in his cabin and found her the night shirt she still wore. She must remember that he'd seen and feel shamed and he felt again the burden of guilt.
"When?" she said at once, a strange light in their eyes and James' looked helplessly to the Governor.
"Elizabeth, your attendance is out of the question. You aren't well." her father told her at once and immediately Elizabeth turned to the Captain but before she could request his aid. As she might have done when being particularly stubborn in the past, but instead she suddenly withdrew into herself. "Will is not to blame himself," she said again quietly.
"Perhaps you would wish to return his note," James suggested, "write him something to that affect." He had overstepped of course, but the Governors seemed not to notice, caught up in relief, in plans for Elizabeth.
"Yes, yes," he said, "perhaps then you might feel well enough to dress? And join the Captain and myself for tea." Elizabeth fled the study without another word.
When she appeared quite some time later, she did not look overly neater if she was somewhat more covered, the dress she wore was dark and old and looked to be too tight on her. From it's cut it was a child's dress not a woman's and despite the height of the neck line, still those bruises showed. She had not touched her hair and bare feet peeped out from under the hem. Her father said nothing to this haphazard appearance and even looked relieved. James understood that this was the first time she must have been out of bed. Especially if she was wearing his nightshirt. She must have been abed since he brought her home. In one hand she clutched a sealed note, she had obviously been more occupied in writing to Master Turner.
She sat quietly with them and fidgeted ignoring the tea and the biscuits and the small neatly cut sandwiches. James had no appetite yet he ate politely and forced down a cup of tea as they sat in awkward silence. Elizabeth gazed at her lap and her cheeks were flush and James felt he was very much making her uncomfortable. He was about to make and excuse to leave.
Therefore he was dismayed then when the Governor, who understandably wanted no time to be wasted, pushed the matter, giving the Captain a meaningful look. "Elizabeth, why don't you take some air, Captain Norrington will escort you I'm sure." James had agreed to the haste and Elizabeth did seem lucid again, so he nodded and stood and offered her a arm. She did not take it merely looked at him wide eyed and they made their way to the garden's in silence. He wanted to ask did she not want shoes but he did not and once outside she wandered ahead of him finding a shaded spot and sitting herself on a bench pushing her bare feet into the dewy grass and curling up her toes.
He had no idea what to say, he had thought to have years to before this was anything more than a distant possibility. Not to spring himself on a traumatised girl who had not so much as been presented to society and for a moment he resented Weatherby Swann, despite his good intentions. In the end he was still formulating his approach when Elizabeth spoke first quite startling him.
"I want to attend the hangings," she told him directly, her voice flat and stripped, perhaps deliberately, of emotion.
"I understand," he told her after a long pause, she'd made it quite clear earlier "truly I do understand, but the decision remains your father's." She looked annoyed and for a moment he felt relieved, annoyance at him foolishly enough was preferable to the fragile damaged expressions that ghosted across her countenance. Of course having annoyed her was perhaps the one thing that could make the circumstances for a proposal less favourable and he decided to plough on anyway. He had determined he would ask for her hand and so he would do so.
"Miss Swann . . . Elizabeth," he swallowed, "your father is quite concerned about your future."
"No-one will marry me," she said at once, matter of factly, "I heard the maids talking but I already knew I was ruined." The other worry she did not mention but that may be some hint of properness. Or it may not have occurred to her that she might be left with a more permanent reminder of the attack and he would not be the one to put the thought in her head.
He reached for her hand, but she pulled away further. Foolish of him. "Elizabeth," he began, "you are very young and what happened to you it was unspeakable." He swallowed, "You are becoming a fine woman, Elizabeth, you should have been able to make a fine match in some years time. That you cannot . . ." He trailed off. "If it would suit however I can offer, wife of a mere Captain, it is less than you deserve I am aware. But I would marry you, Elizabeth, if you would have me. "
She looked startled and shied away and for a moment he cursed himself, too soon, too much, too unexpected.
"Why on earth would you want to marry me?" she asked looking genuinely bewildered.
"Have we not always been friends?" he asked gently, he could not say that he had considered courting her, she was not out, and that seemed ridiculous considered he was proposing. But the last thing she needed now was the pressure of his interest. "I know that you are very young and that you have been hurt. Whatever time you needed I would give you, whatever you needed I would provide . . ." His arguments are cast aside by that phrasing.
"What I need," she said, "is to attend those hangings," her face was lit suddenly with fury and he knew at once that it would be better for her to attend. To have closure, to know that the men who harmed her were dead and to see it for herself. She stood and for a moment her entire frame seemed filled with nervous energy. "You have to make Father see that," she told him determined. "That's what I need, then I'll marry you." With that she pushed the letter for Will into his hand, and ran for the house and though he would like to follow he could not push her more than he had.
After a suitable pause he was heading in just as Governor Swann stepped out looking vexed, "I take it that it did not go well." he said. There was a distinct implication that this was the Captain's fault.
"Ah no," he said, "it could have went better," he hesitated, "her acceptance is conditional."
"Conditional," said the Governor, his ruffled feathers smoothed, "I'm sure we can accommodate her, whatever she wants." He hesitated, for all the upset, this was Elizabeth after all, "what did she want?"
"To attend the hangings," James said shortly getting directly to the point.
"That's all?" said Swann, his surprise evident. "Well I suppose delays must be arranged then." The Governor seemed suddenly much more his usual self though still much much older. "I suppose it would hardly be my place to forbid Mrs. Norrington from attending."
An unsubtle way of informing the Captain that this marriage would be taking place before any hangings, but the rest was simple formalities. James struggled with the Governor over details, it was not his intent to profit from this marriage but nor would Swann have his daughter living in anything but the manner she had grown up accustomed and the resolution was reached that a town house would be purchased in the governor's own name that the young couple could live in. He did first suggest in her name but that was no different to deeding it to James. At least Weatherby intended to break it to his daughter himself that she would be wed before any hangings took place.
James left shortly, he had arrangements to make for longer term jailing, and to call at chapel to arrange for banns to be read. Despite these tasks the first thing he did was deliver Elizabeth's letter to young Master Turner, her missive much outweighed the one she had received and he wondered at it's contents.
The time passes swiftly and James' involvement in arrangements was minimal. It was less than a month later that he stood up, in dress uniform at the front of the chapel and spoke his vows to Elizabeth. The wedding was small and scarcely attended and the party after to be the same. Most of Port Royal would not turn out for the wedding of a 'ruined' girl, Governor's daughter or not. His side of the church was far fuller, men from the fort turning out to support their captain. Elizabeth spoke more quietly at church than he had ever heard her and the burden of guilt increased. It was obviously too soon for her and he tried his best to be reassuring. She trembled when he pressed his lips to hers for the proper and delicate kiss that sealed their union. She was still two months shy of her sixteenth birthday and somehow looked younger now than she had before the incident, she'd had lost weight and carried herself differently. It grieved him to see it, as expected as it might be after such trauma.
He wanted to do anything, say anything, that might reassure her and was gratified beyond belief when during the dinner served, she reached under the table and grasped his hand. She held so hard that it actually hurt and he smiled at her and she tried shakily to return it. She had smiled at him that way on the Black Pearl, when he had rescued her, though then blood had trickled from her split lip and he knew suddenly that it was a smile of relief. Though she might understandably be nervous and frightened it did not follow that she was frightened of him and if he were simply patient, she might find some recovery.
Of course it being a wedding party even a quiet one eventually the music struck up and they did not lead the dancing. Elizabeth was staring at her untouched plate, clinging to his hand and very occasionally sipping her wine as if for lack of anything else to do. The father of the bride gave the new couple several pointed looks and eventually James turned to his new wife. "Elizabeth?" he said questioning, she stared harder at the plate and there was a silence and finally she answered sounding as if it was hard to get the words out. "Don't want to." she whispered.
"Then you shan't have to," he promised immediately and he ignored the looks of his father in law and continued on to be unimaginably rude by not dancing with anyone else either. He did not leave Elizabeth's side and though he did not once relax his returned grip on her hand, he could hardly imagine himself to be a comfort. She looked visibly more uncomfortable as time went on, through it all the one solace was the hold she had on his hand. If she had to cling to something it was as well it should be him. As small as the party was, the few officer's wives that Port Royal had all made the effort to talk to her. James could not help but think such sensible women might prove better company for her, no matter what society thought.
Eventually thought they were in a carriage bound for the house that would be home. Neither of them spoke and Elizabeth released his hand to sit as far away from him on the seat as she could manage and peer out of the window into the night air. In their new home, which was grand in design but sparse and plainly furnished James told her that he had savings put aside for decorating and that he thought that he might leave it to her. He led her upstairs and was grateful to see her examining the house with interest. Though it could have been simply that she did not wish to look at him. Though the servants here did not usually spend the night, he had arranged for a maid to stay late to help Elizabeth undress, her gown (intended for her début not her wedding) was fancy and she would have struggled on her own. Nor could he offer to help. It did not occur to him to simply let her retire on her own but things were unspoken between them and he would not have her lie awake waiting and wondering over her fate.
He removed his wig and jacket and waist coat and then wondered if that was a mistake, perhaps he should have stayed formal. He had a drink of brandy and made his way back to Elizabeth's room. He knocked gently to warn her before he entered. The maid had departed and Elizabeth sat in a chair her knees pulled up to her chin, she was dressed in a flowing white night dress and though she was no longer bruised, he could see them in his minds eye. She seemed to shudder then stood and stepped towards him as if stealing herself for something.
He had to correct her, "I came to bid you good night," he said all in a rush, "my room is just down the hall should you need anything." There was a long pause where she seemed not to understand, then she visibly relaxed. She crept closer and pressed the swiftest brush of a kiss to his cheek before sitting herself on the bed. He nodded and turned to go, but then she spoke.
Her voice was quiet still and she seemed to be almost addressing herself at first. "I should be a proper wife at least once," she said. "Mary said so." The maid he realised, "for then if. . .
if," she could not state it outright it would seem. "I would not know and that would be better," she was obviously quoting the maid there for she suddenly scoffed and sounded almost for a moment like her old self. "How can not knowing be
better!" She hugged herself, "but I don't want to," she said.
"I would never insist on it," he told her seriously, and she looked at him, he could not read that look, contempt for men in general or him specifically.
"It doesn't matter anyway," she said finally. "My courses are three days late." Her voice twisted and the long silence grew, he had no words of comfort for this, and he stood stock still. He had no words at all. "Elizabeth. . ." he managed finally.
"I'm tired now," she interrupted clambering into the covers. It was clearly a dismissal and he had no option but to take it, despite wanting to comfort her, to help her in some way. Instead he did the only thing he could he rearranged her blankets neatly tucking her in, smoothed her hair and kissed her forehead. On his return to his own room, he found sleep very hard to come by indeed.
In the end, he would be glad of that, it was only because he lay awake that he heard her. He did not wake easily and the soft shriek was not after all comparatively loud. When he reached her side, the noise had become a moan, she was not properly awake and he reached for her to jolt her from her nightmare.
That was a mistake, the instant he touched her, no more than a brief touch on the arm, the moan became a shriek a proper one and she sat bolt upright to flail against him, beating her fists against his chest, tears in her eyes.
He let her do it, murmuring her name and assurances that he would never hurt her, he did not think she heard any of it and her assault on him only ceased when she twisted away from him to fling herself from the bed. She fled the room and he heard the sound of retching as she vomited.
He wanted to go after her and yet held back, he fetched her a drink of water instead. She ignored it when she came back, and sat on the bed and then very hesitantly took it. "I have nightmares," she said matter of factly.
"Yes, I should have thought," he said seriously. "Is there anything . . ." She looked at him. "I suppose not," he said.
"You shouldn't have married me," she told him. "I'm not ruined, I'm ruined" she looked down, "I hate it," she said.
He had no idea what she hated exactly, the act itself? the talk? the worrying notion of being left with a child from it, that had turned from a distant terrible notion to a horrifying very real possibility.
"You are not ruined," he said finally, "truly not, what happened to you was a terrible thing, but you are who you always were, time heals all wounds and you shall have all the time you need Elizabeth." One slender hand ghosted along her flat stomach as if she did not have the words for the worry. Neither did he, "whatever happens, I shall take care of you," he said. "Both of you if that is the case, the child would not be to blame." The look she gave him seemed to indicate his understanding of this matter was non-existent and when wordlessly she crawled back into the covers, he made to leave but she held out and grasped his hand.
So James Norrington spent the remainder of his wedding night lying atop the covers unable to sleep watching his young wife drift in and out of nightmares all the while clutching tightly to his hand. It was a mere fortnight until the scheduled hangings and James found himself counting the minutes until the men who had done this received their deserved justice.