PRINCIPLES OF COMPROMISE
- Dis/Claimer-
. Chapter Fourteen .
“You don’t seem to be exactly grasping the line I’m casting to you.” Jack leaned forward on Margaret’s table in the depths of the Pearl, staring down the woman, his first mate, and rival with narrow eyes. “Beckett had him killed. He didn’t participate in the grievous sin.”
“He just organized it,” Barbossa further clarified. Jack pushed away from the table and pointed at Barbossa with a smile.
“Thank you.”
Margaret heatedly sewed a button to a vest as Gibbs went around to the other side of the table with Jack. Her eyes burned holes in the table silently.
“Murder t’be expected of him, but what’s his charge?” Gibbs asked.
Jack emitted a laugh. “Does it matter? I’ve got evidence, and Elizabeth.” He picked up a pair of scissors from Margaret’s table and pulled a loose string on Gibbs’s shirt taught. “Safe to say, I’ll be out of this port, head in tact,” – he cut the string quickly, causing Gibbs to blink – “that simply after this trial. Sever all ties, if you will.”
“You be forgettin’ that Beckett ain’t got a mind as simple as you, Jack,” Barbossa reminded him. “He’s a different kind of cunning with a similar kind of aim, and that’s getting rid of you.”
“I don’t want to get rid of me!” Jack shouted. “I want to get bloody hell out of here!”
“You’d be wishing Beckett dead as much as he would you,” Barbossa said, “and that’s where your compatibilities set and match.”
“That’s quite a private notion I have yet to voice, but I am rather glad it has been brought to attention-“
SLAM
The three men looked at Margaret in surprise as she cast the vest to the table savagely and grabbed the scissors from Jack, throwing them to the table as well.
“Are you so blissfully ignorant of the way you speak of him?” she asked roughly. “As some powerful and symbolic tyrant with a mind only for destruction of your life?”
Jack lifted an eyebrow, confused. “Yes, I believe in so many words that is a mild way of terming it.”
“It’s not just you,” Margaret spat. She shook her head with a ghost of a smile, picking up the vest again. “He’s capable of so much more than you give him credit for.”
Barbossa narrowed his eyes on the woman as she sewed moodily (the button, he was sure, may never fall from the coat again). “Are you in the possession of some knowledge that would be benefitting us, Miss Black?” he ventured carefully.
She sighed, giving them an even glare. “Cutler Beckett has an eye not just for you, Jack.”
“All of us!” Jack agreed. “Pirates in general.”
“Yes, but as much as you believe you have figured him out, does he not always seem to surprise you in some way or another?” She clipped the remaining string on the button with her scissors swiftly and gave it a secure tug. “He is always dangerous. A mere trial for a pirate is not going to stop his wit. It will only encourage it.”
“Though he’s having a tricky time at the moment seeing as I’m out and about, isn’t he?” Jack gloated. Relishing in the fact that he had Beckett’s appalled face from the courthouse burned in his memory forever was enough to keep him smiling. Margaret kept her expression minimal, reaching for another button.
“She makes an argument, Cap’n,” Gibbs said reproachfully. “Beckett seems good and learned when it comes to a courthouse, as much as the sea in fact. What’s to stop him?”
“Patience, Mr. Gibbs.”
Gibbs made face. “Patience, sir?”
Jack rolled his eyes. “Have patience. We have his minion’s cufflink and a secret meeting to eavesdrop on tonight. I’m still working on that part. We will know sure as I am Captain Jack Sparrow.”
“But will it be in time?” Barbossa drawled forebodingly. Jack twitched his lip unfavorably in the man’s direction.
“Don’t be such a pessimist, mate. Not good for a pirate.”
“Keep a closer eye to him,” Margaret said, taking her seat again. “You are so keen to understand why he wants to blame this on you and hide the fact that he, if possible, is guilty-“
“It is entirely possible that he is the dirty maggot behind all this!” Jack said. “I’ve got evidence, as aforementioned, and I do think you need to stay out of my conversations and finish with those if you want supper,” he finished tartly.
“I’ve never held you accountable for my meals-“
“Then just shut it, would you?!”
Margaret pursed her lips but kept them closed, resuming her vicious sewing. Jack watched her until he was certain she would not speak or interrupt again. Gibbs and Barbossa exchanged glances as Jack bit his lip.
“Gibbs?”
“Aye, Cap’n?”
“You’re in charge during my leave tonight.”
“And just how do you intend to get out and back unnoticed?” Barbossa asked humorously. “Guards surrounding the ship, remember?”
“Gangplanks are nice for walking, Hector, but I feel a bit like flying tonight. Ropes should never be underestimated, neither the proximity of how close the ships are docked by one another in this port.”
x x x
Elizabeth sat a porcelain doll paralyzed and drowsy with newfound unease on the edge of James’s armchair, a saucer of tea held dangerously loose in her lap. She had only sipped the dry tea once with a quivering hand and felt she should not attempt it anymore thereafter for fear of breaking Norrington’s rather sophisticated china. Her mind mulled over thoughts of the cufflink, Jack, Will, and the notion of reality again and again as she sat silently there in the still room of his modest home. She had been stirring in cubes of sugar now for the better part of ten minutes, but her preoccupied mind heeded no care.
Finally, when James was able to sit with her, she chanced another upset of the china by taking a small taste of the tea that had now gone cold, grains of undissolved sugar lining her lips. She removed them discreetly before lowering her tea cup, scolding herself for rudely not acknowledging the Commodore’s presence. James sat slowly, quietly fixing his drink with an eye about her. The awkwardness he had felt since her return from the blacksmith shop had only grew, what with bringing her to his home under their current situation. It would be more difficult to stop a wedding in several days now, and he did not see how they would do it with such little time. He soon felt the need to initiate conversation; silence was deadly to him.
“Elizabeth?”
She stared blankly into her still tea for a moment before inhaling silently. “I am so sorry for all of this,” she leaked out quietly. James blinked uncertainly as she continued, “I had no right to put you in this position or involve you. My poor decisions and judgment were not supposed to harm others, especially you.”
Norrington felt his heart wrench a little as she briefly made eye contact before becoming fascinated with her tea again. He shook his head, that which she had said being farthest from the truth.
“I do not think any less of you nor hold fault to your name for this,” he told her. “In truth, I would rather be involved than not.” At this, Elizabeth looked up, and he successfully captured her eyes and held them securely. “I will not have this be your fate. You belong not to me,” he stated, painful though it was. “But I will see you happy again, if only for a moment.” He submersed a cube of sugar in his hot tea and stirred it. “It is my wish,” he added quietly.
Elizabeth felt her voice crack somewhat as she spoke in turn. “I am happy,” she said, swallowing hard emotion. James glanced up, knowing it not to be true, but then Elizabeth conjured a smile. “I am happy to have you,” she said. “To be here, with you. You’ve done so much for me, James, and I am a fool for the coldness I have shown in return.”
The pangs were reoccurring with the words she said, all opening some aching memory or dream he had forgotten somewhere within him. At his silence, Elizabeth sat the saucer on the table and unbecomingly crouched before him with her large skirts billowing and touched his arm. James felt a desirable surge crawl over his skin despite the heavy coat.
“I am for you, James,” she told him sincerely. “We are not who we were.”
He wanted so strongly to cover her lovely hand with his but resisted. He released a withheld breath choppily and smiled grimly.
“I had not imagined any of this,” he said lowly. “This was not to be how it was… to be,” he finished rather unintelligently (according to his standards). Elizabeth was listening intently as he looked at her from the corner of his eye.
“Three years, Elizabeth,” he stressed quietly, “and my house is not a home as it should be. We were to sit in this room together with the warmth of a fire exchanging meaningless conversation about the day. I would go away to sea, and you would wonder when I would return. You would be here – just be here – and I would be so proud.” He suddenly smirked and added as he met her soft eyes, “However, I now scoff at the very thought, but never the feeling it gives me.”
Elizabeth had no immediate reply. She smiled at him so contently, a terrible amount of guilt mounting within her to levels she thought impossible. She bit her lip, determined not to let the tears come through, and she succeeded. In light of it, Elizabeth grasped his hand firmly with a reassuring smile. James was not sure he had ever seen a purer vision of her.
“If any good has come from this, it is you, James,” she whispered, touching his face with trust. A touch he was weak against. He chose not to restrain himself this time. Gently, he reached up and carefully encased the hand to his face, his thumb caressing her scarred palm absentmindedly. Even now, if a diversion could not be created, he felt slightly more at ease.
“I am for you, Elizabeth,” he replied. “You have always had all of me.”
She smiled.
“And you have me.”
x x x
Perhaps an hour or so passed before talk dwindled between Elizabeth and Norrington, so he saw fit to return her home. She obliged him to escort her to the manor as appraised gusts called for a carriage, and she remained silent within it unless spoken to. Her heart ached terribly, knowing itself to be on the brink of the truth, arms flailing to keep her balance, to find out… She wanted so desperately to confide in James about all this, even about possibly siding with Jack, but she would keep her word to the pirate – she would not breathe a word until she had vital information set and a solid truth to believe in. Then, perhaps, she could tell James.
Not yet. The painstaking barrier of wanting to say every word running through her mind was unbearable, but Elizabeth would wait. She would wait for Jack.
Or would he wait for her? Where were they to meet tonight and when? She then realized that none of these had been discussed or even thought upon in their hasty exchange of information! How could she be so sure-?
The carriage jerked to a stop, and Elizabeth caught herself on the seat rigidly, her mind in a perfect panic. Norrington glanced at her with concern as the horses steadied outside.
“Apologies,” he murmured. “The weather has had them in rile as of late.”
“No need,” she replied modestly. Oh, Jack! You and your lack of details! she thought fearfully as James led her out of the carriage and to the large front door. Bullocks for dazing amidst valuable words in the street! If only I had heard a street name or time!
“Ah, Commodore Norrington and Miss Swann.”
Elizabeth looked up abruptly. She has not even noticed the door open.
“Your father wondered when you would be coming home.”
“I hope I am not too improper for my hour of return,” she said as the butler ushered them inside. “It is only a quarter of four.”
“I am so eager for your return,” Governor Swann said as he made his entrance into the vast room, “because I have a gift for you.” He halted before his daughter and Norrington, beaming at them proudly. “Commodore Norrington, thank you for accompanying Elizabeth.”
“My greatest honor, sir.”
Elizabeth blinked quickly, looking over at her father. “A gift, Father?” she enquired.
“Well, with all that Lord Beckett is doing for you, I know the upheaval of events is making you weary,” Governor Swann said. “Now I know tomorrow night is your birthday dinner, Elizabeth, but I thought of doubling the happiness of the occasion and including Commodore Norrington in the festivity’s honorary as well.”
Elizabeth acquired a sly smile, though she was not sure why. “An… engagement party?”
Governor Swann chuckled. “I have to have some involvement in celebrating my daughter’s matrimony,” he justified. “Can’t have Lord Beckett do it all.”
For the second time that day, Elizabeth and the Commodore stood an elegant couple quite speechless. This vertigo was not to cease!
“You are most gracious, Governor,” James managed, the confidence in his tone surprisingly firm. “Though, I do not insist on such grandeur if it is against your daughter’s wishes.”
She felt his eyes on her and met them briefly. “It would be a wonderful affair.” A mysterious pull locked their eyes (rather improperly in front of her father she knew), and Elizabeth nodded once. James averted his eyes politely after too long, but she had his consent and savored the in the refinement of it.
“Indeed it shall be,” the Governor confirmed. “Elizabeth, the maids will be fitting your dress after supper then, so perhaps you may wish to freshen up a bit.”
“Of course.” She smiled over at James, a silly frivolity about it that made him want to laugh. She pouted dramatically and stepped in front of him, her hand extended. “Good evening, Commodore. It has been a pleasure.”
The smile tugging up the corners of his mouth was successful as he kissed the back of her hand, meeting her eyes with an uncharacteristic smirk behind them. Elizabeth had seen it only once before when he was drunk on the Pearl, before Isla Cruces… she giggled to herself.
“The pleasure has been mine.”
Norrington felt his heart light and happy even as her hand left his grasp and she, his side; her smile was as bright as his, and she glowed softly while ascending the staircase. His eyes followed her out of sight contently despite the day it had been. At least it had been with her.
“Let me say, Commodore that which I failed to mention fully in Lord Beckett’s office this morning.” Norrington turned to Governor Swann attentively as he said, “I could not be more proud to give my approval to such a promising future.”
Norrington smiled to the floor half-heartedly. Does anyone really know what the future will hold for any one person?
“You are eternally in my good grace for your good will and devotion to her,” Governor Swann told him in a quiet, sincere tone. “I have faith that this will be the best course, and not just for her grieving.”
“Her grieving detracts from her naught,” James said, lifting his eyes to the empty staircase in search of her ghost. “She is in every way flawless in my eyes, and I am honored to have your blessing.”
The Governor nodded. “You have it. Good evening, Commodore. Safe journey home.”
Norrington smiled respectfully, glancing over Governor Swann’s shoulder one last time at the staircase. To his curiosity, Elizabeth breezed passed the landing. He swore he saw her cast a smile in his direction. The gusty winds on the front stairs could have lifted him from the ground.
“Thank you, sir. Good evening.”
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