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The Caribbean air blew warmly through her brown locks that hung gracefully from her elegant bun. They fell in soft waves on her skin, flushed with excitement, anxiety and joy, and guarded from the burning gaze of the sun on this particular day. Her footsteps slid down the stone path like petals, nonchalantly emerging from the bouquets that adorned the bench path where familiar figures, both known and only encountered, stared at her in delight, jealousy and excitement. She tried to keep her posture confident and steady despite the lack of physical and moral support to her right, she had no one to accompany her on this day. Her dark eyes darted around the faces, still hoping to meet her brother’s mischievous gaze, or her father’s wise look. Only the azure eyes of her childhood friend and the hazel gaze of the one who had become a close friend, waited for her further on, and gave her confidence and the feeling that she was not alone.
Alone, she would not be in a few moments. The upright figure at the end of the aisle stood out by the rigidity of his posture, not only by his tendency to shoulder his duty and his sense of morality, but by the anxiety that was certainly consuming him at that moment, blind to the one who was moving forward. She had never expected to experience such a moment, especially not after all they had been through, the moments of uncertainty, terror, anguish and yet joy and hope. She took a last look around at the assembly, which was staggering with serene emotion, fearing that the threatening figure of the one who had caused them so much harm would appear. She closed her eyes for a moment, ignoring the ghost and his hot breath on her neck; he was gone, back to England, empty-handed and ridiculed. It would take a great deal of effort for him to be able to return to his business in the Caribbean seas. She focused on the man waiting for her at the end of the driveway and smiled.
She decided to fix her gaze on the older man holding his open bible in his hand, exchanging glances between her and the man waiting for her. She could make out the rigid shoulders heaving with his slow, controlled breathing under his blue cloak that displayed his rank. She let her vision float to the two men who accompanied her, also dressed in their uniforms. She found it strange to see them dressed like that for this occasion, but she did not try to understand the customs of the English anymore, although she was English too.
At last, she reached him and staring at the priest with a keen eye, she turned slowly to stare at the man who was waiting for her and whom she was expecting too. The man’s green eyes lit up with a smile and his face match the eyes. His adoration showed on his elegant face, usually so restrained under his powdered wig and officer’s hat. He stared at her as a child would stare at the sea for the first time: amazed and anxious.
She exhaled softly, blowing like the breeze in a sail, his name.
‘James…’
His face lit up even more, and the woman concentrated on that, listening with a deaf ear to the words of the priest as he recited his service. It was only a whisper that tickled her ears while in James’s green eyes she saw their adventures, their battles, their laughter, their fears and joys. She remembered their chance meeting on the Dauntless during a family incident in which she had taken part only against her will. She remembered his discreet courtship and his delicate marriage proposal, then the time of fear and uncertainty: the madness and obsession of a man. The time of rebellion and battles, then the time of peace that remained until that precise moment when she said:
‘Yes, I do.’
James’s arms wrapped around her and so did the cheers of the crowd. She laughed with joy and stole a kiss from her husband, who chastely returned it, for the moment. He grasped her hand as one would grasp porcelain and pressed his fingers into her with affection. He had never been so happy in the last few years of debacles and problems. They walked down the aisle. The grains of rice fell thickly on their heads, and she glanced with joy at Elizabeth, who looked at her fondly. The bride gave her a jovial smile, knowing that Elizabeth’s early marriage had not given rise to such celebrations. She then shifted her gaze to Jeanne, the only family presence in her eyes. She smiled at Gillette and Groves who were exultant, the former with a restrained and fraternal joy for his admiral and friend and the latter with an almost childlike joy.
The couple rushed into the carriage that was waiting to take them to the reception held at the new governor’s mansion in honour of the admiral’s wedding. On the seat in front of them was a large box with two letters on top.
What is this?’ asked James, looking around for the coachman.
— A man dropped this off, sir, he said it’s a very special and private gift for your wedding, he said before disappearing to his post.
— I believe there’s a letter for each of us, James.
The admiral took the letter in his white-gloved hand and read it silently. The bride did the same.
My dear Alice,
I’m sorry I can’t be here today, I know I’ve missed most of your life, and I’ll miss this part too. I’m sorry for that, I want you to know that I did this for your own good, these words may seem empty, but they are true. You can hate me for this, as I hated myself when I left you with this family. I wish you a better life than mine than your mother’s, your brother’s, uncles’, aunts’ and cousins’. I have not had the opportunity to see this famous Admiral Norrington, and I hope he will make you happy.
I am leaving you a memento of your childhood in this box, which I should have given you a long time ago.
I am proud of you,
Your father,
E.T.S.
Alice stared at the box with a questioning eye and opened it carefully. She immediately recognised the linen doll staring at her with its odd button eyes and smiling with a loose red thread. Her body was covered in brown trousers topped with high buckled boots, her white shirt outlined her brown woollen arms, all of it roughly stitched. She pressed the little doll in her hand and let a tear slip down her cheek, she had missed it so much when her father had left her with the French in the West Indies. It had been with her every night and had disappeared with the memories of her family. Perhaps it was for the best, at twelve years old she might not have been allowed to keep it with her.
Alice wiped away a tear and James’s hand pressed hers in a reassuring gesture.
’Your father is as intimidating in his reputation as he is in his correspondence,’ he laughed.
— I’m rather surprised he writes so well, I must admit, she said, looking into James Norrington’s loving green eyes. Besides, I think this is for you.
She gestured to the ceremonial pistol in the case, and then wondered.
“I wonder what the gun is for.
— He writes to me that he’ll shoot me with it if I treat you badly,” James laughed, waving his letter. Maybe I shouldn’t laugh at him because I think he’s capable of it.
—You’ve been warned,’ she laughed, winking at him.
— I don’t intend to do otherwise.’
Certain of his words and his happiness, James captured her lips in a languorous kiss.