Chapter Five

I blinked, comprehending her declaration. My mind reviewed all the evidence; the somber tones of her exquisite gown, the smug pout of her delicate mouth, the arrogant languor in her voice, and the unmistakable gaze of her heavily lidded eyes.

"Do I have the honor to be addressing the sister of Lieutenant Andrew Gilette?" I murmured mechanically, my head swimming.

She smirked at my civility. "Indeed you do, Commodore."

She fell silent, but her eyes continued to glare into my very bones. As the moments passed they moistened and glittered ever so slightly. My duty stirred and I felt I must say something to try and comfort her.

"Madam," I began, my words hanging dry and meaningless, "your brother was a fine seaman and a first-rate officer." I stopped, searching for something more to say. She scoffed.

"Save me your speeches, Commodore."

I remained quiet, wary of what would come next.

"You may well wonder how I come to know such shocking news," she oozed, giving her eyes a few swift dabs with a small black handkerchief.

She stowed the small square of linen, all signs of any distress completely erased from her countenance.

"I believe you have heard, Commodore, of my dear friend Miss Prescott's betrothal to Charles Newson?"

I nodded carefully.

"Then you will hardly be surprised to discover that he called upon her yesterday morning. I happened to be visiting Rebecca myself and so heard Mr. Newson's entire explanation for his rather unexpected presence in London."

She paused, pleased with the distress evident on my face. I was at once angry with Newson. I had no doubt the story of my shame would be circulating through London's drawing rooms at this very moment, and by tomorrow evening it would become common knowledge to every Milord and manservant from there to Winchester. I felt the shame puncture me anew, recalling again that fateful morning that seemed a lifetime away, the glimpse of the Pearl hovering in the mist, and my foolish decision to follow her. I saw the stern faces of the Navy tribunal that would doubtless question such poor judgment in one of His Majesty's officers, felt the disgrace of standing before them with no defense to give. Another pang shot through me as I imagined the disappointed look on Governor Swann's face as he read the news of my demotion. All this flew through my mind in an instant, but this was nothing to what would come next.

"You see, Mr. Newson explained how you led your crew on a wild goose chase for months, hunting fairies in the mist, illusions of your own grandeur," she spat cruelly.

I lowered my eyes to one of her gown's silken roses, watching the candlelight play against its perfectly tailored folds. Thus I escaped her gaze. But I could not escape her words.

"For the life of one measly pirate you sacrificed an entire crew. You were greedy. You wanted the glory of capturing the great Jack Sparrow. I ask you, Commodore Norrington, where is your glory now? At the bottom of the sea along with your ship and my brother."

Her voice seemed to grow louder somehow, booming and echoing through the entire drawing room. I was sure everyone could hear it. And still the midnight petals shimmered in the dim light.

"Did you know, Commodore, that my brother was up for a captaincy? When he returned from your little gallivant he was to receive his promotion. He'd be giving orders right now if you hadn't killed him. And he'd have made a better captain than you will ever be."

I felt the truth of her words, felt the shame and guilt washing over me in dizzying waves. The silken rose began to blur and swim a little. And still she was not finished.

"I wish he'd been captain that day. A good captain listens to his officers-a good captain heeds their warnings-a good captain doesn't murder two-hundred men just for the sake of his own stupid pride!"

She stopped, whether because she had finished or because the look of despair in my eyes, which finally had to leave the blossom and return to her own, had arrested her tongue with pity. There was more than one tear wetting her flushed cheeks, and her eyes surged with pure hatred. I felt the breath go out of me as Lady Stanley's gaze morphed into a pair of familiar brown eyes, brimming with blame and contempt. I gasped and swallowed, trying to remove the boulder from my throat and chest.

"I cannot give any excuse for my conduct-" I began hoarsely, but she interrupted.

"Don't you dare to apologize to me." Her voice quivered dangerously and another single tear rolled down her cheek. Yet her expression revealed no emotion beyond fury as she pronounced her final sentence upon me. "You murdered my brother. I despise you."

Years passed in the next few moments of silence as her words hovered in the air, like a swarm of angry bees stinging again and again. I felt her accusations coursing hot through my veins and buzzing in my head, which began to swim and tumble. I forced myself to stand and somehow crossed the drawing room, oblivious to the curious eyes that followed me. What happened next I remember only as a series of sensations. I remember the blissful coolness of the corridor as I pushed through the drawing room door, and the faint smell of lavender on my bed sheets as I entered my chamber. Then there was the stench of London and the muffled sound of hooves clopping along the street and the feel of the sill clenched beneath my palms. The cool night air helped to steady my nerves, but it couldn't silence Lady Stanley's words which echoed inside of me, clanging painfully against my guilt-swollen heart.

The guilt was a fresh pain. I had always known the shame, but it was not until I had met Lady Stanley that I had realized that what she said was true-I was a murderer. I'd been seduced by the Sea and her promises, and now I saw that She had planned my punishment, payment for some long ago offense.

I let go of the window and slumped to the floor. I pressed my palms into my eyes and when I removed them I found them wet with a few phantom tears. A knock sounded at the door and a servant entered, no doubt sent by my uncle to check on me. I must have looked a sight, sitting on the floor in my evening clothes, and his astonishment showed on his face. He inquired whether sir would be returning to the drawing room, and receiving a gruff "no," set about helping me undress. It seemed strange to be doing something so ordinary when my soul was in such torment.

When I was successfully bed-clothed my attendant wished to know if sir required anything else. I had him fetch a bottle and leave word I was not to be disturbed. Then I drank. It would be the first of many nights over the next few months I'd spend wrapped in wine's embrace.

It was as if every negative emotion I had ever felt from the age of three converged upon me that night. The long hours passed slowly, drowned in the wine and the guilt and the shame and the heartbreak and the anger. I was haunted by a dozen spectres, conjured from memory or imagination. Lady Stanley accused me repeatedly, branding me murderer a thousand times. Gilette informed me of my incompetence as an officer, and assured me that had it been his command Sparrow would currently be hanging from a noose in Port Royal harbor. Governor Swann expressed his disappointment and told me how ashamed he was. Elizabeth begged to know why and condemned me for my conceit, before turning her favor upon Turner. Even Sparrow came to torment me, though he seemed merely amused by the situation, taunting me with his freedom and mocking me with his colorful declaration that he'd always known I wasn't what I seemed. To my memory, I have never spent a more hellish night on this earth.

I awoke to find that I had slept. A servant informed me that my uncle was out but wished to see me when he returned, and that the physician had called for me and would return for an examination that afternoon. I let him dress me and I ate what he put before me, but I knew that I would not see either my uncle or the physician. Sometime during the night I had made my decision. I would not stand in my shame before a tribunal, or Governor Swann, or Elizabeth. I could not pretend in honor when I knew myself to be the man that Lady Stanley and all of society had proclaimed me to be. I had lost my former life when I pledged it to the Sea.

My hand only hesitated once as I penned the letter that would change my fortunes forever. With my resignation safely on its way to the navy offices, I made for the harbor to return once again to my fickle mistress. I could no longer live the life of a gentleman, and so I would have to go where no gentleman would.

And so I ran. To Tortuga.