11. Of Horses and Guns
I woke up abruptly, startled by my surroundings. “Oh,” I breathed, taking in the place in the light of day. You’re in your new suite.
Rugs on the floor, loveseat in the corner, a round table with a pair of upholstered chairs, nightstands, and end tables. Lots of cedar, as requested; I loved everything about the aromatic wood and it was abundant here.
When I emerged from my bedchamber, the world was up and waiting. To my surprise, the receiving tray in my parlor held not only the Sea Wind’s books, but also a number of notes. Only one was from Ian; it appeared that I was officially out in Bermuda - Somers Isles, I corrected myself - society.
My darling Isabelle,
It was an honor to escort you to the Wallington’s dinner. I thank you for teaching me about California customs. It was a highlight of the evening - and a memory I shall cherish always.
Until this afternoon,
Ian Coventry
A memory I shall cherish always. I wondered if Ian had gone home and rubbed one out too.
Dearest Lt. Commander Coventry,
The honor was all mine. I understand you have many demands on your time – and I shall attempt to remedy my impatience, yet I cannot wait until it is your face at my door that I see next.
Until later,
Isabelle D. St, G
Holy shit, I thought, looking at our exchange. If I wasn’t something straight out of a Brontë novel. Well, what was this but another version of code-switching?
I powered through the rest of the correspondence, which was all social niceties from the Wallingtons’ other guests - pleasure to meet you, congratulations on your acquisition, do you enjoy Manille - sent it off with Josefa-Maria to find a messenger and sat down to the real business.
Anika kept very neat books and papers regarding the accounting, inventory, and other matters, but it was still a lot to delve into. By the time I had finished breakfast, I was sure that I was missing something important with regards to the monthly expenses.
This was a profitable establishment. Where was all the money? Why were all the women paid next to nothing? And if there was all this pork, why was the stew mainly water and carrots?
“Lady Isabelle,” Josefa-Maria’s voice sounded at the door. “You have a messenger.”
Her voice was odd.
“Enter,” I called.
A young man in livery entered, looking very overdressed for this island. “Lady Isabelle,” he said solemnly, “I have been sent by Lord Leigh. He received your response, and wishes to call upon you this day.”
I was confused. My ‘response’ to Lord Leigh’s letter had been polite social bullshit, and certainly nothing that would encourage a prompt, in person meeting. “This day?”
“Yes, my lady. I am to await your response. He wanted me to let you know that he is in the area,” the messenger added.
“It’s not a great day for sudden visitors,” I began. The young man shifted in distress. “...But perhaps I could manage a brief call?” He fled from my parlor, palpable relief streaming in his wake. Once he was gone, I turned to Josefa-Maria. “That was very strange! I wonder what he could possibly want to talk to me about.” And with such urgency, too.
“I cannot rightly know, my lady,” she said. But there was an undertone that made me suspect I was (yet again) missing something vital in this foreign culture.
“Josefa-Maria, one moment.” It had been two days and I kept forgetting. “I got you something,” I told the maid, handing over the packages I had purchased for her. “I wanted to thank you for all of your hard work - and this is from Lady Isabelle, grateful hotel patron, not Lady Isabelle, owner of the Sea Wind.”
The petite brunette stood there in shock, her cheeks pink.
“Perhaps you might like to open it?” I asked mildly.
“Yes, of course.” Josefa-Maria gasped as she withdrew the items: several yards each of navy wool and yellow linen, as well as an entire spool of yellow ribbon.
“I thought you might like to get some clothing made. I’ve also included enough to pay a dressmaker.”
“My lady,” Josefa-Maria said, pressing a hand to her chest. “I thank you!”
So there, I thought at Anne. Ghosts didn’t get choked up over gifts. “How’s the yellow?” I asked, holding it up against her analytically. “Do you like it?” It was a good shade for her coloring, but the most important thing was that Josefa-Maria thought it was pretty. She nodded vigorously, sniffling, then sank to her knees and kissed my hand. “You are a most gracious and generous lady. God has blessed us to have you here, my lady.” She thanked me again, then rose and curtsied before gathering her gifts and leaving.
Wow. I wasn’t sure which of us had been more overwhelmed by that encounter.
I returned to the books.
...There was a mark by several of these purchases. If I subtracted the amounts marked I could almost bring the sheet into balance--
I was interrupted once again by a knock at the door and set down my quill with a sigh.
Lord Leigh was ushered in by Josefa-Maria, Gerta firmly at his back.
We exchanged the proper greetings, and I invited the gentleman to sit; my chaperone had already taken up her usual spot in the corner. As we went through polite small talk I noticed that Lord Leigh was distinctly uneasy.
God, would you just get to it already, I thought at him. I had a staff meeting to conduct, a kitchen to inspect, a date with my favorite dark ages lieutenant commander, and menus to plan. But Lord Leigh continued to talk about nothing, sucking the life from the room, and my mind drifted back to work.
The place wasn’t very pretty, for one; I intended to start with a garden, for aesthetic and culinary purposes. I would adore the chance to expand, add rooms, and maybe a cabin or two - there were several vacant lots across the alley and street. That would provide options for outdoor dining, happy hour specials, maybe even specially themed days! Seafood Sundays! Margarita Mondays! That kind of thing. I even thought about perhaps opening a brothel. Or purchasing one of the existing ones. I imagine I could class a place up. Perhaps there was a young girl, forced into the life, just yearning for the opportunity to make her way in the world through different means. There were ways.
Sewing for example. I could believe that any disenfranchised young woman could perhaps find her passion with a needle and thread and lift herself out of poverty; it happened in books all the time, especially with a benevolent benefactress. She could just be waiting for me to come provide the right avenue to success. Remembering Josefa-Maria’s enthusiasm over the gifts of fabric, I ran my fingers along the embroidery Anne had worked into my own skirts.
I could accomplish a lot in six months.
When I looked up again, Lord Leigh was still sitting waiting for me to continue the conversation. He did not seem to pick up my desire for him to get the fuck out of my room. After a long, uncomfortable silence I decided to put us both out of our misery. “Lord Leigh,” I began, smiling at him politely, “with my recent acquisition of this establishment, I find myself unable to engage in as much leisure, and have much still to do--”
“Lady Isabelle,” he interrupted me. “I have come with a marriage proposition.”
His words bounced awkwardly around the parlor as I gaped at him, stunned. Before I could gather myself enough to utter a word in response, the hall door opened and my parlor was abruptly full of young men. Loud, entitled young men - a number of whom had entered with food and beverages in hand.
Apparently, there was a party in my parlor. Only, I had neither the pleasure of knowledge nor an invitation. Gerta looked as though she was on the verge of a cardiac event. Torn between curiosity and irritation, Lady Isabelle settled on the former.
For now, Izzy added.
Glass in hand, I took in my newly arrived unexpected guests. There were the Maynwaring brothers and three others from the Wallington’s dinner whose names I didn’t remember. My formerly spacious parlor suddenly seemed uncomfortably small and overly full of testosterone and male voices.
“It really is quite the sticky situation.”
“Indeed. I’ve never run across the like of it.”
“That’s what moving off the mainland will get you. Further from the crown, further from reason and order.”
“At least we aren’t in Virginia!”
“Hear! Hear!”
“Can you even imagine what those colonials do in the middle of such savage and otherworldly conditions...”
“What the devil is going on?” I wondered aloud to myself. It wasn’t as though anyone could hear me over all the voices anyway.
“..Not to mention the savages themselves.”
“Back to the issue at hand. Gents, who has a proposition?”
“I have never heard of California, but I imagine the land lies to the east of Rome.”
“It does seem likely,” said one of them, staring at me as though perhaps he had missed a map tattooed on my cheek. “Can we not send a messenger? Does anyone have relatives out that way?”
“Robert and I have an aunt in eastern Prussian lands,” said Henry Maynwaring. “Perhaps she’ll know the family or can send word.”
“Pardon, Lady Isabelle,” began a pale, lanky Englishman, “before we exert ourselves beyond our capabilities, is your family still alive? Particularly your father?”
How nice it was to be included. I raised an eyebrow, eyeing them critically. “Would someone be so good as to inform me as to what is happening?”
Lord Leigh spoke up. “Though - an uncle would do.”
“Yes, I suppose in the absence, an uncle would do - or perhaps an older brother?”
“Whatever for?” I asked.
“So that one of us might obtain your hand in marriage.”
I laughed. “No, really. What are you after?” The befuddled looks on their faces dried up my amusement like a freshly salted slug.
It is hard to summarize my emotional reaction. Was I Disgusted? Horrified? Incredulous? Overwhelmed with a new, and special type of rage? All of the above. Also, speechless. In my own room, in the inn I owned, and I was being completely disregarded.
“Come now, Lady Isabelle,” Lord Leigh urged me impatiently. “Tell us of your father, or male guardian, so we might write to him at once and obtain his permission!”
You silly woman. You are but chattel, and chattel does not have a say.
“Oh,” I breathed, suddenly finding myself rising from my seat. “My father’s permission,” I whispered into the ether as I fought to take deep, calming breaths. I failed. “Are you fucking kidding me?” I asked, whirling to look at the Baron. “I am my own mistress, and I do not require the permission of a man!” I fairly spat the last to the room at large.
Lord Leigh, who had gone red with anger, was attempting to find words. He wasn’t the only one who looked as though he was preparing a sharp retort regarding my declarations of independence. Also, they had all gone right back to talking amongst themselves as though I wasn’t even there.
“What curious ideas you all seem to have of how a marriage proposal is meant to be arranged,” I spoke up at last.
“Lady Isabelle, if I may?”
Ian! I looked up at Lieutenant Commander Coventry’s voice, and the others finally quieted. “You see, gentlemen,” Ian entered smoothly, “if you were at all informed about Lady Isabelle’s homeland, you would know that their courtship rituals are even more rigid than our own in England. The progression through these stages is entirely under the lady’s purview; they are nearly matriarchal.” I blinked. Hearing Ian’s take on what I had explained to him was almost as confusing as the bevy of ‘marriage proposals’.
“Furthermore,” he continued, “Lady Isabelle has recently accepted me into boyfriendship. So as you can see, your errands here are in vain, gentlemen.” Ian delivered that information with an impressive combination of grace and imperious condescension. He motioned at me with a grand gesture and suddenly, the others appeared interested in what I might have to say. Now that a man had spoken up for me.
I was shaking with anger. “The lieutenant commander speaks truly.” My words were far more serene than my thoughts. “I regret that I cannot host you gentlemen longer, as I have commitments for this afternoon.” There was a long moment of stunned silence. Sure, this has been awkward, but now they’ll gracefully withdraw--
The men erupted in an uproar. The general consensus was that the idea of a woman being allowed to make such a decision on her own was preposterous.
I met Ian’s eyes across the room. They were full of the same exasperation and displeasure that I felt. Enough was enough.
“Gerta!” I called, and the stout woman was only too happy to bustle them out of there. Almost all of them, anyway.
The Baron seemed resistant to departing; instinctively, I moved closer to Ian.
“Lord Leigh,” he said, and the firm invitation in his voice was unmistakable. He might as well have put a hand on his sword.
“Lieutenant Commander. Lady Isabelle,” Lord Leigh said, then bowed and took his leave.
“Marriage?” I said to Ian. “Are they insane? We only met last night, and I’ve barely spoken to any of them! They know absolutely nothing about me!”
“They know that you are wealthy and beautiful,” Ian said forthrightly. “I imagine they needed no further information.”
“To propose marriage?” He nodded slowly. “Ewwww,” I said with emphasis, then picked up a joint. I needed calming and I needed it now. He watched as I touched the end of the joint to a candle. “That is absurd. And they think that a woman is to have no say in her own marriage arrangements?” I turned, looking at him with a new eye. “Is this what things are like in England?”
He winced. “In truth, yes, my lady. My homeland is a place rather steeped in such archaic traditions. It is one of the reasons I sought to live elsewhere. Personally, I am quite open to new ways of doing things. In particular,” Ian smiled suddenly, his eyes twinkling, “I have enjoyed learning about your courtship customs in California. Things like boyfriends and good night kisses are entirely novel to me.” He paused, looking me over. “What is that?”
He was gesturing at my joint. I was surprised he didn’t recognize the smell. “Cannabis,” I replied. Ian shook his head. “Marijuana? Pot, reefer, weed?” Nothing. “You’ve never smelled this before?”
Ian watched me interestedly. “Is it very like tobacco?”
“It’s far stronger than tobacco,” I warned, offering it to him, “but the principle is the same.” Ian inhaled cautiously, made a very introspective face, and then coughed. A lot. I handed him a glass of water, urging him to sip. “You’re going to be super high now. I hope you don’t have anything important to do over the next hour or so.”
Ian gave me a beautiful, lazy smile. Definitely stoned.
“You have a curious mind,” he said suddenly. “Would you tell me more of your thoughts for this place?” Ian asked, leaning in.
I had all kinds of thoughts. Stay focused. Don’t kiss him...yet. I stood up, forcing myself to focus. And of course, he stood up with me. Jesus.
“Gerta,” I began, “would you go and see if the apple bread is ready?” The woman departed with a scowl. But at least she’d departed, I thought, turning back to Ian.
“How’s my-- how’s Anne?”
He paused, then said, “Secure, fed, and unharmed”, bemused.
“Thank you,” I murmured.
“Isabelle,” Ian said, “what are you wearing?” He tilted his head to the side, taking me in with a mystified expression.
I looked down at my clothing. From my conversations with Matheo, I had gathered that the concept of riding habits weren’t a thing yet, but I hadn’t expected this sort of reaction. “Riding clothes,” I explained. And I didn’t need to wear a fucking corset.
Matheo had constructed a small linen garment for me to wear instead. It looked a lot like a crop top, except that it had ribbon straps for the shoulders and laced up in the front. Over it, I wore a white linen blouse with lace collar and cuffs, a charcoal worsted wool jacket and matching skirt, and new boots. I’d been pleasantly surprised by how nice the boots were. The ensemble was very comfortable, and I didn’t need help to dress in it; I felt like a real human being again. I was definitely going to have a few more of these made.
Six. Months.
“This is what women wear to ride in your land?”
“No. Hardly.” I handed him the smoke. “I don’t think the people here could handle the clothing we wear at home,” I said honestly, then laughed.
He raised his eyebrows, then made a ‘hmmm’ noise that I can only describe as ‘masculine interest’, like he thought we all rode around like Lady Godiva or something. Then he gave me a look as though he was imagining just that. I shivered. Now I was the one feeling flushed.
“Lady Isabelle,” Anika came in and curtsied. “It’s time.”
I stared at her blankly.
“The meeting with your staff, Lady Isabelle,” Ian reminded me quietly.
“Right! I’ll be down in a few minutes. Does everyone drink?”
She tilted her head at me in question. “Drink, my lady?”
“Alcohol. Does everyone drink alcohol?”
“Yes, my lady. We don’t have any Puritans here,” she added.
“Excellent. Make sure everyone gets a drink - and let them know I’ll need a few minutes to finish up here.”
“Yes, my lady.” The woman departed for the stairs and I began gathering my belongings for the meeting.
Ian turned to me with a curious expression. “What are you planning, Isabelle? Are you trying to get them drunk?”
“Don’t be silly. It’s only one or two drinks,” I said, pausing to kiss him on the cheek. My boyfriend. I grinned, then moved to gather up the papers I needed. “I want them loosened up some. Everyone’s so uptight; it’ll be impossible for them to work with me if they’re always quaking at the sound of my footsteps.” He was staring at me like I was from another planet... and, I guess I was, essentially. “Change can be frightening,” I continued. “However, I figure if we sit, break bread, have a few drinks, they’ll see that there’s nothing to worry about. I am not a harsh person to work for.” I’d employed this technique numerous times with great success.
And yet, I was nervous. All I had wanted to do was keep my sister from being brutalized, and now I was responsible for the running of a business and the livelihood of its employees. It was a lot to take on, especially for someone as foreign as I was. Still - not as difficult as it would have been back home, I realized. There were levels upon levels of bureaucracy that didn’t yet exist here.
“I keep thinking about how they might have ended up here,” I said, tying back my hair with a white ribbon. “Maybe they send back money home to help support their younger siblings, to help them pay for the education they were never able to receive...” I trailed off. Ian was giving me a curious, amused look. “What? One does hear of such things.” One certainly read about them. There were always poor, pitiful relations in historical novels.
He pursed his lips briefly. “Do go on? I should love to hear more.”
“Well,” I continued slowly, not entirely sure as to whether or not he was mocking me, “perhaps someone has an ailing grandmother overseas that they have been longing to visit, just one last time, but they haven’t been able to save up the coin, you see, because times are so very hard. And just maybe they only need a small amount - small to you and I, but a significant amount of their wages. I could help them!” I peeked up at him, wondering how my words had been received.
Ian reached out for my hand and drew me closer, smiling down at me. “Hi,” I said uncertainly, still peering up at him.
“Hi.” He grinned, then kissed me. We were distracted with that for some time. It could have gone on forever, except I remembered that all of my new employees were waiting for me downstairs.
“Isabelle, a favor - might you permit me to sit in on your...meeting?” He had a glimmer in his eye.
“Why would you want to?” I asked, checking my reticule.
“Is that a jest?” Ian asked. “I would sell tickets, if I thought you would allow it.”
“You’re strange,” I told him, giving him a quick kiss. “Fine. Maybe you can make yourself useful,” I added with a wink. “Wait, I thought you had sessions to return to?”
He waved his hand lazily. “I do not imagine I would be much use at the moment. Your...marijuana is rather potent.” Ian added, nodding thoughtfully.
Such a handsome lightweight. I grinned at him as I locked up.
The sounds of revelry carried up the stairs as we headed down. Curious. My stomach sank as we rounded the corner.
“My god,” I swore. It looked like the beginning of a bacchanal. Nearly everyone was drunk and dancing; several of the younger people were dancing on the tables.
“What is the meaning of this?” I demanded, full of fury as I entered the tavern room. Record scratch. Everyone scrambled in a mad dash, jumping off the tables and fighting against their liquor to look respectable. One of the boys belched. “Unbelievable!” I snapped. This is why we can’t have nice things.
Anika was standing against the wall with her arms crossed, looking close to tears. “My lady, they...” she trailed off, throwing up her arms.
“What did you expect?” Ian murmured.
“I expected them to have a modicum of temperance,” I replied loudly as I turned to the room at large, not bothering to hide my disdain or irritation. My blood was fucking boiling. “And now I expect that every last one of you will get this room put back into condition. And you’d better hope that you sober up while that’s happening, because then, we’re going to have our meeting!” I snatched up the open bottles of rum and wine from the tables and took them back behind the counter, then paused. “Wine?” I asked Ian, taking down two glasses.
“Yes, my lady,” he murmured, giving me an admiring look. We sat at the corner bench and drank while watching my now subdued employees put the place to rights. The fact that we were seated right next to my sister’s artwork did nothing to assuage my mood, but it was the only spot that offered a clear view of the entire room. Anika and Nichte were sober, and the only ones I didn’t feel cross at; even Josefa-Maria didn’t escape my scowl of disapproval.
“I am quite fucking angry,” I confided to Ian in a whisper; he nodded understandingly, then topped off my wine.
I directed Anika to get everyone lined up. In the corner, Ian cocked an imaginary hat at me and sat back to watch, clearly eager to see what was coming next. He might as well have been eating popcorn. I was glad he was here.
Silently, I examined the line while I walked in front of them, taking in just how intoxicated everyone was. I was decidedly unimpressed, but I knew I needed to keep my temper in check. Mostly. Somewhat.
“I hardly know where to start,” I began grimly, stalking across the line of drunken, listing, terrified employees. Josefa-Maria, Gertrude, and one other girl were in various stages of tears to boot. When I spoke again, I did so slowly and with deliberation, barely containing my rage. “I am beyond disappointed in the lack of restraint that so many of you showed here. The tavern is closed because we have important business to attend to. I put out refreshments so that- Lieutenant Commander? Would you be so good as to share what my hopes for this session were?” Several people startled; they clearly hadn’t even realized he was in the room, and upon discovering his presence, seemed even more distraught. Drunk fuckers. Deep breaths, Isabelle.
His lovely, refined voice filled the room. “You stated a wish to sit, break bread, and have a few drinks. I believe your goal, Lady Isabelle, was to allow them to get to know you as the new proprietress.”
“Certainly. Though I suppose that will take a rather different tone now, won’t it?” I couldn’t resist allowing the bitterness of my disappointment to creep into my voice. I had been so looking forward to this. With the money from Wilhelm’s excesses, there were all sorts of things I had planned - including giving everyone raises. I sure as fuck wasn’t going to announce that now. “Most of you are hardly in condition to stand, let alone have a decent conversation.” How had they even managed to get so inebriated in such a short time? Ian chortled in the background, only quelling when I cast him a dirty look. “So instead of a leisurely chat, you’ll be working off your faults by scrubbing this entire level. Lord knows the place needs it,” I added, scowling with disgust.
Bram shifted, then spoke up. “Mistress, I-”
“Mistress?” Lieutenant Commander Coventry’s voice boomed through the tavern. I nearly jumped out of my skin at his outburst; Bram paled and froze. “To whom are you speaking?” To my surprise, Ian moved to the center of the room, flushed with anger. The lieutenant commander continued, fixing the petrified room with a blue-blooded glower. “If this establishment were under my charge, the bulk of you would be released from your positions without reference. You are all of you blessed to find such a generous soul in Lady Isabelle,” he said, pronouncing those last words with the utmost sanctity. “You will address her appropriately,” Ian concluded with a terrifyingly calm assurance, sweeping that piercing gaze across the entire group.
Damn. Don’t piss off the lieutenant commander. My boyfriend was hot as fuck.
“Apologies, Lady Isabelle,” Bram said quietly, red-faced.
“Well, that’s certainly been settled,” I said, smiling brightly.
Nichte sidled cautiously up to the table Ian and I were sharing. “My lady, the items for cleaning have been prepared.”
“Give this to Mistress Anika, please,” I said, handing her the list I had prepared. “Lieutenant Commander? Let’s go for a ride.”
I had wanted a nice, simple horseback ride, but like everything else, things ended up a lot more complicated. I was shocked by the size of our riding party, for one. In addition to the Wallingtons and Talbots, the Lavignes and Lady Catherine were also joining us, making nine of us on horseback; Lord Talbot informed us that we had cleared out the stables. They, in turn, were shocked by everything about my attire.
This was good, I realized, watching them take me in with open interest. I spent a lot of time around people who simply wrote off my eccentricities as normal for nobility, and wouldn’t dare question me; those of my own alleged class had no such reservations.
“What a curious hat,” Lady Alice remarked, staring.
Not having packed my equestrian equipment for our ‘Sisterly Summer at Sea’, I had been forced to be creative - especially when my request for a riding helmet had been met with bewilderment. Instead, I had obtained a small soldier’s helmet and sent it to Matheo, who had worked with the milliner to have it completed in record time. Now, the helmet was covered in dark grey silk and ribbon trim, and included padding inside per my specifications. Pure artistry.
“Yes,” I agreed, smiling. “I’ve noticed that we wear very different garb in my homeland.”
“And you are truly going to ride astride?” Lady Catherine asked.
“The lieutenant commander said that you insisted on a man’s saddle,” Lady Wallington contributed, her eyes bright with interest.
“More of a boy’s saddle, I think,” I nodded, gesturing to the size. “Women ride as we please in California, and I wish to go in standard form.” I patted the sweet, placid palfrey Ian had selected for me. Clover, the groom told me when I asked her name.
I missed my horses.
Lady Wallington continued. “I understand the grooms were put to some trouble to find a special bridle for you as well.”
“I prefer to ride without a bit,” I shrugged, patting Clover’s mane. “It’s more humane and I’ve found it makes bonding with a horse easier when you don’t use such force.”
“I’ve never seen a lady ride astride before,” Lady Alice said, staring at me with excitement. She was practically bouncing with glee.
“Shall I?” I winked at the ladies; out of the corner of my eye, Ian was approaching, ready to offer his assistance. I swung up into the saddle easily, and the women gasped with delight. There were worlds of difference between this outfit and the skirt I’d been wearing last time.
“My goodness,” Lord Talbot said, taken aback. Lord Wallington looked amused, like I was a kid showing off. Well, maybe I was, and he was at least twice my age.
“We’re going west, yes?” I asked, impatient for the others to mount. I eased the palfrey into a walk, making wide circles while the other ladies were helped up into their saddles. I paused at Ian and he swung up onto the stallion beside me with a wide grin. “I wonder if I shall ever stop being amazed by that. You look as though you were born on horseback,” he complimented me graciously.
“You’re a rather regal and dashing figure yourself, Lieutenant Commander,” I returned. He sat astride a magnificent stallion of a bay so dark it was nearly black, dressed in his usual understated finery with the sword at his side. He was beautiful, and looked like he should be in a painting in a museum somewhere.
Idly, I wondered if perhaps he was. Anne’s voice sounded in my ears, unbidden. All of these people are ghosts. “No,” I whispered. They were laughing and talking about lunch. They were riding horses, for crying out loud. Riding horses with me. They are not ghosts. I felt a fine tremble begin in my stomach. I pulled my new jeweled mirror from my reticule, but my usual trick wasn’t working. All I could think about was the horrible idea of Ian being a ghost. I stroked Clover, trying to center myself, but my sister’s voice continued. These people are not real. “No,” I whispered again. They’ve been dead for hundreds of years, Anne insisted. Your boyfriend is a ghost, Izzy! I closed my eyes. When I opened them, Ian was smiling at me, and he was very much alive.
“Is all well?”
I nodded, smiling back at him while I fought to stop shaking. “Clover and I are going to start,” I told him, hoping I didn’t look as distraught as I felt.
Once underway, I began to feel like myself again. Clover had a smooth gait and docile manner, the sort of horse well suited to a novice; for me, it was like walking.
“I usually ride daily,” I told Clover, “but I’ve barely ridden since I arrived a few days ago.”
Days ago? It felt like a lifetime had passed since I had stepped off the boat and told my sister to fuck off. In that time, Anne had been arrested for assault and destruction of property, I’d bought a hotel, entered the Somers Isles social scene, and gained a friend / romantic partner /advisor, all rolled into the wonderful Lieutenant Commander, arguably the most powerful man on the island. And all in a matter of days?
It all sounded like something out of a particularly vivid fever dream.
“How’s Anne?” I asked. “I really want to see her.”
Ian shifted. “I have not forgotten our agreement, my lady. Patience, I beg of you.”
Not one of my better virtues.
The casual chatter of the others drifted forward. The other ladies, that is; the men seemed content to ride in silence. As was I, though I didn’t mind listening. Honestly, their frivolous gossip about gowns, gardens, and what not was a welcome respite from the heavier things on my mind.
More speed, I decided. I threw Ian a look as I began to ease Clover into a trot, grinning as he brought his stallion up to match us. We left the others behind and rode in companionable silence, with only the sounds of the horses hooves and the birds around us. I had gotten quite comfortable with that when we drew closer to the sounds of other people. I glanced at Ian.
“We are nearly there,” he apprised me, inclining his head.
My eyes widened as I took in the setup. Was this what life was really going to be like here? I had anticipated an easy, blanket picnic, much like what Ian and I had shared at the little glade a few days before. Instead, there were canopies, with tables and chairs and a banquet worth of food besides. Was this what these people considered a simple outing? Next time, I might just risk riding alone. This was absurd.
As none of us could possibly go anywhere without our servants or attendants, they had gone ahead by wagon to set things up. At one helper per household, three grooms for the horses, and some number of maids and footmen, this brought the grand total of our party to over twenty. Twenty fucking people.
“The repast is courtesy of the Talbots,” Ian said as we dismounted and handed over the horses.
Fuck it, I thought. The ostentatious spread looked delicious, I was hungry, and for once I wasn’t wearing a corset. This day was looking up. Ian and I shared a secret smile as we scrubbed our hands together before eating, then I daintily stuffed myself with roast chicken and fresh salad, my rosemary bread, and an impressive variety of cheeses and fruits while making polite conversation. This was far more relaxed than the dinner party we had all attended. ...God, that had only been last night? This place was nothing short of a whirlwind.
“Lady Isabelle, is it true that this bread is from the Sea Wind?” Lady Catherine asked. She was trying it with a spread of goat cheese. I watched as she handed a piece to Bessie, the young Black servant standing behind her chair. They both looked pleased with it.
I decided to try the same combination myself. It looked delicious. “Indeed it is, Lady Catherine. I hope you’ll all try a small sample of it and tell me what you think. I am looking into adding some variety to the menu,” I added. I’d brought a loaf from each oven and left the same for the inn, hoping to get some feedback from the nobility as well as those who patronized the tavern.
Ian was full of praise, but I took his words with an affectionate grain of salt; after all, he was currently holding my hand under the table. The others, once I insisted that I did want their honest opinions, admitted that they found the flavor overly exciting. Once Lady Catherine explained that she was using the goat cheese to mellow out the intensity, Mr. Lavigne tried the same thing with the butter.
“It’s milder this way as well,” he announced to the table with a pleased smile. I hid my amusement behind my hand.
Once the meal was completed, the servants cleared away the dishes and the men went off to smoke and drink. Around me, all of the ladies were taking out sewing or needlepoint, as my boyfriend had ever so casually mentioned while preparing me for the day. I fought the urge to look after Ian wistfully. I had brought a project of my own, and I was relieved to be able to spend some time doing something that was both interesting to me and socially acceptable. Like horseback riding...and day drinking.
Okay, maybe this day didn’t blow after all.
Lady Alice and Lady Wallington gossiped heartily, with Lady Aaoka serving as audience and agitator to every story; like me, Lady Catherine was mostly silent, seemingly very focused on her work.
I had a bundle of beautiful scraps of fabric from Matheo, and I was sure that I could figure out some use that was both pretty and practical. I needed to learn how to hand sew, after all. My fingers played with the various shapes and pieces on the table in front of me, experimenting with pinning them together in various ways, but my mind drifted. I found myself thinking about Anne, and wondering how she was doing. I had no real understanding of the prison system here, but the tidbits I had heard from Ian were less than encouraging. I glanced over at him. How long did it take to make arrangements--
My name brought me back to my companions.
“Lady Isabelle, is it true that you bought five gowns upon your arrival here?” Lady Wallington asked me.
I nearly stuck myself with a pin. They really would die of shock if they knew how many pieces I had really purchased.
“Five!” Lady Aaoka exclaimed. “Where will you ever wear them?”
“There is so little opportunity here for gowns and dresses. I admit to some jealousy. Will you be taking them on your travels? Oh, terribly sorry. I suppose once you marry the lieutenant commander you will take up residence here. Will your family miss you terribly?” Lady Alice was an onslaught in pink silks.
Lady Catherine threw me a questioning look, and I shook my head. No, of course he hasn’t proposed, we barely know each other! Not that had stopped those cretins earlier.
“I’ve never seen a man so smitten.” Lady Wallington gestured at the pendant I wore.
Lady Aoaka smiled, leaning forward. “So where do you think they ought to get married?”
I buried my facial expressions in my squares of brocade and pins. Were they really back to planning my wedding? If they were this bored, they should get jobs.
“It would have to be a big celebration. Everyone has been expecting him to settle down. Just imagine if you weren’t invited to that wedding! It would be an unimaginable slight.” Subtle, Lady Alice.
“The commander’s house might do. We have the rooms,” Lady Catherine volunteered. I gave her a wounded look, and she shrugged at me helplessly. Let them have their fun, her face said.
The others weren’t paying us any attention anyway.
“The rooms you have, but the space?” Lady Wallington shook her head resolutely. “There’s no ballroom or grounds in town.”
“Such a shame that those Puritans horde the southern lands,” said Lady Alice. “There are some fine acreages out that way.... Provided one can look past all the sober robes and hats.” They tittered.
“We already know there’s only one suitable place on this desolate scrap of land,” Lady Aaoka declared, and the other ladies nodded in agreement.
“Indeed!” Lady Alice exclaimed. “And he’s expanded his estate since we were last there. It’ll be good to see how it all looks now.”
Lady Wallington nodded, dark eyes narrowed in thought. “I will send word to him this evening.”
“Wonderful thought, Leticia. Wonderful,” Lady Aaoka chimed in, snapping for a servant.
Send word to whom about what, exactly? I barely understood most of what my companions were saying. Smile and nod, Izzy. Smile and nod. Lady Catherine was even better at it than I was. I could swear she was in another world entirely.
“What are you working on, Lady Isabelle?” Lady Aaoka was craning to peer at the fabric pieces I was playing around with.
“I’m not entirely sure yet,” I admitted. I’d been thinking of doing some sort of Gee’s Bend idea, but it was all an experiment. I was hardly an expert at this sort of thing. “It’s just something to keep my hands busy, for now.” I would have far preferred to have a book in my hands, but that would have been anti-social in these circumstances. Besides - one of the best parts of traveling was doing things the locals did.
By the time the men rejoined us, somewhat buzzed and still chatting away at their end of the table, the ladies’ conversation had drifted to innocuous things like roses and parasols. My ears were divided between worlds; the talk of wine-colored draperies on my right mixed with the chatter of war on my left. Slowly, I stopped listening on the right, directing my brain to the left. One by one, the other women noticed my change in focus and joined, curious to see what had drawn me in.
I was listening to a language I didn’t wholly understand, but concepts like ‘dire straits’, ‘taking heavy losses’, and ‘interruptions of the supply chain’ were far easier for me to grasp than gossip about people I didn’t know. They were talking about the current war in England. Current? I closed my eyes as a chill went through me. Ghosts.
“Goodness!” Lady Alice gasped after her husband said something about a lost ship. The men startled, suddenly realizing that we were listening avidly.
“My good fellows,” Lord Wallington said, “Let us not force the ladies to take part in such dull talk.”
Lord Talbot looked stricken at the thought. “Indeed. Apologies, ladies, for the dourness of our conversation.”
A noise of disappointment and disgust slipped out of me. “I thought that talk was rather interesting.” Then I noticed that everyone was looking at me. Probably unladylike, Izzy. “Though, perhaps I am alone in that view--”
“You are not, Lady Isabelle,” Lady Alice said staunchly, and Lady Aaoka gave her husband a nod.
“I always enjoyed listening to the commander talk of such things when he was willing,” Lady Catherine added serenely.
“It’s certainly something different!” Lady Wallington smiled broadly, winking so that only the women could see. She didn’t care either way, but she did enjoy being part of the group.
I smiled at them, grateful for the unexpected support. It was a nice moment. For us, at least. The men looked quite put out to be ganged up on. Or rather, the husbands did. Ian gave me an appreciative nod, the barest hint of a smile on his lips.
The conversation continued, though cleaner than before. They were all Royalists, of course, as members of the English nobility and upper class. As a noblewoman, they assumed that I supported their side.
But I knew the truth.
Still, I nodded along as they talked about the latest news received, lauding the efforts of the crown. Of course, any letters were months old upon arrival. Inside, my stomach was in knots. These people are ghosts. They’ve been dead for hundreds of years. Under the table, Ian’s warm hand held my own.
Only a few more hours until I would have some semblance of freedom. I would be off this ship and away from my sister as soon as we found land. In the meantime, I planned on drowning and smoking my sorrows and reading from the carefully curated onboard library while I worked on my hair.
The sudden popping noise startled me. It wasn’t particularly loud but it was sudden. Once we stopped moving, I saw that Anne had set off some sort of signal flare.
Once I discovered that she was setting out in the rowboat again, making multiple trips back and forth, curiosity got the better of me and I made my way to the kitchen for a better vantage. I arrived just in time to see Anne hugging a small blonde woman and tousling a kid’s hair. Her son?
“Curiouser and curiouser,” I murmured into my cup of tea, watching Anne warily.
Above me, Anne and the boy carried on a steady stream of chatter. Catching up, it sounded like. Once they disembarked again, I quietly made my way to the deck, keeping my shawl over my shoulders and watching them surreptitiously. They were unloading the cargo - and stashing it in the nearby caves.
It seemed like a routine they were all well acquainted with.
Wool-gathering got the better of me, and before I knew it, Anne was back onboard.
“That’s Mary and her son,” she began explaining. “They are some of the good ones. Listen, Izzy, about what happened –”
I turned on my heel and marched to my room to finish packing.
I was torn. I knew my boyfriend’s side was going to lose this war - and according to the history books, it was important that they do so. He waited patiently as I paced. Where did I even begin with what I wanted to say?
“Ian,” I said slowly. “You are in need of supplies? Weapons, ammunition, gunpowder? Things of that nature?” He nodded slowly, taking me. “And...even though you’re here, now, you might be called to England to fight?”
“It is nearly a certainty,” Ian replied.
“Even though you’re in the navy?” I asked hopefully. “It’s a land war...”
Ian chuckled. “We are all called to support the Crown – or commonwealth now, I suppose,” he frowned, “regardless of military branch.”
My heart sank; there were years left in this conflict. That was far too long to hope that the trouble just passed us by while we hung out here in Bermuda.
“I see,” I said eventually, returning to pacing. In the background, I noticed the others watching us curiously. Of course. The regal, well-bred soldier, calmly standing while his crazy foreign girlfriend marched back and forth like a bejeweled nutcase.
Silently, I debated both sides of the arguments in my head. I had grown up watching movies like Back to the Future and Terminator; I was well aware of the hypothetical complications of changing things in the past.
And yet, the thought of Ian being a ghost before his time...felt like a vise on my chest. I turned my back to the others, blocking their view with my body as I stepped closer to him. I took his hand in mine, then closed my eyes.
“Isabelle?”
“I’m thinking,” I replied quietly, without opening my eyes. I was thinking that I loved him. “I think,” I began nervously, “that I can help you.” I swallowed. What if there was some time travel deity that controlled these sorts of matters? She might zap me out of existence or something for ruining her plans. Regretfully, I let Ian go.
“Did you have something specific in mind?” Ian probed gently.
“Yes.” He waited while I paced a bit more. “My captain and I are in possession of a sizable amount of guns and gunpowder.” I paused. “We came here to sell it.”
“Indeed?” Ian looked thoughtful. “She was reported to be in the middle of negotiating some such transaction when the incident took place. The buyers she met with could hardly afford much. England would be happy for any small bit of help you’d care to offer, I’m sure.”
Right. The ‘incident’. “So this is a trade that the military, or the Crown -- commonwealth, would be interested in? Theoretically?”
“Yes...Theoretically,” he enunciated, approving my word choice, and then he was the lieutenant commander again. I didn’t mind. “Why don’t you tell me a little more about this cargo? What information can you give me?”
We got it from a massacre. Another 'incident'. I shook my head, trying to clear it. Ghosts in the tavern. Ghosts in my head. Ghosts in conversation. They were everywhere.
“There are dozens of crates and barrels, hidden away,” I told the man in front of me. His name was Ian, and he wasn’t a ghost, and I wanted to keep it that way.
...The cache. The weapons, Izzy. “There was...trouble. And...” I tried to remember, but it was all a haze of blood and shock. “I’m sorry,” I said finally. “I don’t know much of the details.” My dress was covered in blood. “There were a lot of crates and things.” Bloodied men everywhere. “It took a long time to load and then unload everything. I watched them.”
Ian’s face contemplative as he took in my speech; he understood more from my words than I was able to say. “Dozens, you say? You must be mistaken. That would be incalculably valuable, Isabelle.”
“I am not mistaken, Ian.”
“Are the goods on your ship?”
I scoffed. “Of course not. Everything was unloaded and hidden.”
“I would have to see them to assess the value myself.”
“Alright,” I nodded. That was reasonable, especially since I couldn’t give him any real specifics.
“I am certain that we will be able to negotiate something that will be satisfactory to all parties.”
“Wait, what do you mean all parties?” I narrowed my eyes at him. “How many parties will I need to negotiate with?”
As it turned out, this deal was far more involved than the one for the hotel.
My party (A) had a cache containing an unknown quantity of weapons and ammunition of unknown quality; ostensibly, the party of the Crown/ Commonwealth (B), wanted said cache, but here in the ‘wretched backwater of the Atlantic’, as Mr. Richard Lavigne so eloquently phrased it, the Crown did not have ‘treasury representation’, or some bullshit, so the party of the Somers Isles Company (C) served as a sort of envoy. Party B was currently represented by the lieutenant commander, as Lord Wallington (of Party C) ever so helpfully informed me. I smiled and nodded at him.
At the other end of the table, the ladies were rapt.
I smiled and nodded, working on my sewing project while the men of party C mused openly about what they could negotiate. Party B really wanted to arrange a deal, and it wasn’t just because he liked kissing Party A.
“We could offer you land,” Lord Wallington said magnanimously.
“Oh,” I replied. I sat back in my chair, making an understated but effective show of my disappointment. “This isn’t exactly prime real estate here in the ‘wretched backwater of the Atlantic’. We were looking for something more liquid.”
Lord Wallington shot Mr. Lavigne a dirty look. “Liquid?”
“Cash? Money? Currency?” I made the universal unimpressed face. “I have plenty of good land at home. The only reason I’m even entertaining this is because of my desire to support your cause.”
It was my turn to be magnanimous. Only, I was totally bluffing. I knew that Anne believed the cargo to be very valuable, but I didn’t know exactly how valuable. Ian’s reaction to my information had been informative.
“How much do you believe it to be worth?”
“I’m not really sure how to convert it to your currency,” I stalled. “In California, we use the dollar. I don’t know if any of you are familiar with that?” Collective head shaking. Good. “I believe that my captain placed the value to be around one million dollars,” I prevaricated.
They looked stunned.
I wasn’t sure why, exactly. They had no idea what a dollar even was.
“One million?” Mr Lavigne repeated. He wiped his face with a cloth. “That’s not a practical number for these sorts of deals.”
“I did say I wasn’t sure how to convert it,” I replied with a bright smile, then clamped my mouth shut. I had a strong feeling that I should mostly just keep quiet; after all, they were doing so much of the talking for me.
We would continue our ride, we decided, but this time, I would take them to the caves.
The cargo wasn’t far. I had watched Anne, Mary, and Dom hide all of it. I found the spot and led the men into the caves, watching their expressions and attitudes transform as they took in the vast quantities of goods within. I did my best not to look smug as we emerged, standing slightly to the side with the other ladies.
Now, I listened quietly as the men talked among themselves about how to do the trade justice. My companions were fascinated. I was trying to pretend like it wasn’t a big deal, but I was seriously bullshitting my ass off. So far, I had gotten lucky; Lavigne and Wallington were beside themselves over the cache, and giving out loads of information.
As Lady Isabelle, I had status that my ‘trouser wearing captain’ did not. I got the strong impression that they might have simply taken the cargo away from Anne if I hadn’t been involved. No wonder she had hidden it away so securely. I thought it was her usual fondness for secrecy and stashing...but her decisions regarding this were definitely borne from sound reasoning.
A short while later, Parties B and C concluded their invigorating discussion and turned to approach me.
“Oh,” Lady Alice breathed. “That is Richard’s concession face,” she leaned over to whisper in my ear, then chuckled. I glanced at her, surprised, and Lady Alice grinned back at me.
“Lady Isabelle,” Lavigne began. “It appears we owe you an apology. We came here expecting to humor a lady with a paltry offer and find ourselves in the curious position of having only pennies to pay for a grand meal.” He was decidedly contrite.
Ian smiled at me. “Lady Isabelle,” he said. “What the commonwealth is able to offer you is a sizable amount of land through the charter in exchange for your cargo. It is not nearly the payment I’m sure you and your family hoped for, but with your business prowess, I’m hoping we can tempt you to accept.”
Lord Wallington nodded at me. “We have what is currently the entire western end of the island, a sum total of 200 acres we would like to put in your name. Your name only, if you understand. Even though you are a woman-” Seriously? “-we have some space to make allowances. This land is to be your sole property, a privilege that no one else would be willing to make you. If you’ll accept, we will draw up the paperwork here and now and you shall leave the wealthiest landowner on the island.”
Gee, fellas. It’s awful swell of you to let me own stuff, even with all these ovaries and boobs making me vastly inferior and shit. I forced myself to push past the casual misogyny and focus on the terms.
200 acres. Anne had brought us here to sell the guns; I was going to sell the guns.
“I accept,” I replied, and everyone cheered. It felt so surreal. The other ladies were all aflutter with the goings-on, and I had little doubt that news of this transaction would be circulating among the upper class before supper.
Afterwards, Ian Freaked Out about the amount of gunpowder, incredulous that my captain had sailed me around with such risky cargo. He launched into a grand speech about how I could have died. “One stray spark,” he muttered over and over. Remembering Anne’s demands for me to stop cooking and smoking, I shivered.
A flurry of attendants were dispersed to Fort St. Catherine and the Somers Isles headquarters, and the next time I emerged from the cavern, the Talbots’ attendants had relocated the party to the beach. My companions were all in very high spirits; to hear them tell it, I had single handedly turned the tide of the war in favor of The Crown. Or was it The Commonwealth? Their laughter was infectious. For a time.
But I knew differently. After a while, the innocent revelry overwhelmed me, and I wandered back into the cavern to get away from it all. It was quiet and peaceful here, still lit by the workers’ lanterns. How much more was hidden down here, I wondered, helping myself to a light. I pressed my feet firmly into the sand, leaving clear prints as I headed deeper into the caves.
Anne had brought us here to sell the guns; I’d sold the guns. Mission accomplished, and we could now safely sail home. Theoretically. For some reason, I felt far less excited about that than I would have expected.
And then I felt a weird pull. I followed the feeling. Or sound, maybe, except it wasn’t coming through my ears. I paused. Was I really about to head deeper into an unfamiliar cavern, alone? But the pull only grew more insistent. With a sigh, I ignored all of my usual instincts and headed deeper into an unfamiliar cavern, following the odd sensation.
The pull got more intense, then joined with the sound of running water. I turned a corner and there I was, in yet another hidden cavern. Suddenly, the pulling had stopped, but the water was louder now. I blinked as I entered slowly, trying to adjust to the dimness. I saw the source of the water first: a slow, steady stream of freshwater cascaded down the rear wall, feeding a shallow pool. This area was not like the others; it looked like someone lived here. There were storage chests with blankets and pots, a small stash of food and water, and a pouch full of pretty, shiny trinkets - along with a well used fire pit in the corner, ringed with rocks and full of charcoal.
I had felt called to this place, but now that I was here, I was uncertain of what I was supposed to do next. “Why am I here?” I whispered, but no one answered. That was probably for the best. I didn’t know what I would have done if I had gotten a response.
I raised my lantern. My eyes were adjusting, and more details about this underground hideaway were becoming apparent. The walls were decorated. Like cave art, but done with real brushes and tools, I realized, examining the surface more closely. These were no smears of clay or ochre. There were people, animals, buildings and a number of scenes I couldn’t identify. Most of the people had red, yellow, or brown skin. Someone had drawn out a story, I realized, but I had no way of deciphering what it meant or what they had been trying to tell. I shivered.
Okay. Time to go, Izzy.
I was deep in thought and slowly winding my way back through the caverns when I heard Ian, shouting my name. “Isabelle? Isabelle!”
“I’m here,” I called back, increasing my speed. Ahead, I could see the glow of the workers’ lanterns.
“Where were you?” Ian asked, his expression full of tender concern.
I followed a pull in my bone marrow. No big deal. “Nothing,” I replied. “I mean, nowhere.”
“You should not wander in underground areas,” he admonished, offering me his arm. “You could become lost, or injured.”
I nodded. I did know better.
“Have you decided on a new name for your establishment yet?” Ian asked. We tossed out ideas for names as we walked back to others, getting sillier and sillier along the way.
Upon our arrival at the ‘Seagull’s Nest’, Ian’s latest idea, we parted ways with our riding companions / chaperones. Gerta was waiting at the door. Once upstairs, I sent her off with some errands that would keep her out of my hair until my boyfriend and I finished saying good night.
Ian gave me a very long, enthusiastic kiss good night in my parlor. “Your cheeks have a rather alluring blush, Isabelle,” Ian observed, fingertips brushing my face. He - along with the others - had spent the entire ride back excitedly waxing poetic about how much of a windfall the cargo was, and praising the part I had played.
I had spent the ride subdued for a number of reasons. I was overwhelmed by the enormity of the deal I had somehow arranged; confused about the hidden grotto I had uncovered; concerned about whether the arms I had just delivered to England were, in fact, a good deed.
But when my Lieutenant Commander kissed me, I felt a lot less concern. He was warm, and alive, and I wanted to keep him that way.
“Tomorrow,” Ian said suddenly, pulling back slightly to look into my eyes. “I have something I wish to show you. I think you will enjoy it very much,” he added.
“What do you have in mind?” I asked cautiously. I would throw myself into the sea in full regalia if I had to endure another group outing so soon.
“Would you allow me to surprise you?”
“Perhaps,” I considered. “As long as you can assure me that it won’t involve lots of people. I don’t suppose we could sneak off somewhere alone?”
Ian laughed. “Neither of us have the luxury to be so anonymous here,” he reminded me. “A very small party, however, is perfect for what I have in mind.”
I narrowed my eyes at him. “How large is a small party?”
“You and I, and our personal attendants,” he replied. “Will you join me?”
“Four people?” He nodded. “It would be helpful if you were to give me enough information to select my attire for the day,” I hinted.
“Very well. I shall take mercy upon you, Isabelle.” Ian said, smirking. “Out of doors, like our first picnic, but a beach, this time. There won’t be any horses, unfortunately.”
“A small party. And we’ll keep it simple, yes?” He nodded.
“Yes. I would love to,” I whispered as he drew closer to me for one more kiss.
Shortly after Ian had gone, Anika came up to speak with me. “The cleaning has been completed, my lady - I supervised them myself. And if I may say so, they had a great deal of incentive.” Well, yeah. They had been shaken even by my restrained disapproval, and then the lieutenant commander had chastised them all like errant schoolchildren.
I nodded. “I’ll have a look.” Though I trusted Anika’s ability to follow instructions, I had very different standards of hygiene than the locals. In the main room, I was greeted by a group of quiet, abashed employees and a room that was cleaner than I had expected. It still had a ways to go, but it was progress.
“This place wouldn’t even come close to passing a health inspection in California,” I said flippantly, ignoring their looks of deep confusion as I examined the room.
“It’s a great improvement,” I said to Anika from across the room. The others looked cautiously relieved. “This type of cleaning will need to be done regularly, going forward.” Now they all looked appalled, and I felt a sick sense of satisfaction. The finest inn in St. George’s indeed.
Feeling energized despite the hour, I headed for the kitchen in search of a snack. Even with my staff’s behavior and the absurdity of the ‘marriage proposals’ that morning, it still had been a monumentally fantastic - if busy - day. I was practically floating, and stepping into the freshly cleaned kitchen made me smile. Nichte, anticipating my new custom of sampling the day’s wares, began to ready a tray. The mini meat pies smelled delicious, I told her as I stepped out into the main room to make myself a drink at the bar.
“Yes, my lord, I’ll make certain--” Anika was cut off by a much less pleasant (and vastly unwelcome) voice.
“No need,” Lord Leigh said dismissively. “I see the lady herself now.”
Shit. This was precisely why people sent servants to do things for them. He never would have seen me if I had stayed my ass upstairs in my room, lounging like a proper lady. Or if I had sent someone else to grab my drinks, even.
“Lady Isabelle!” His voice was far more cheerful than it had any right to be.
Still, I fixed my face. I could manage neutral, at least. “Lord Leigh.” My polite, yet decidedly dry response seemed to unnerve him.
He tried again. “Good evening, my lady!”
“Good evening, my lord.” Impatiently, I waited for him to state his business, but he only stood there with his hat in his hand, looking at me nervously. “Were you seeking me, Lord Leigh? It is rather late....”
“Yes, yes. Well. I have been troubled by the day’s earlier events, and hoped - might I speak with you?”
Anika, who was hovering protectively nearby, shot me a look of maternal concern.
“I am not inclined towards company at the moment, my lord. I only came down briefly and am returning to my room.”
“Pardon my intrusion, my dear lady. This matter will not take long, I assure you, and it would give me much peace,” he pleaded.
And now I’d be an asshole if I refused, regardless of the fact that he was intruding upon my evening. “Very well, Lord Leigh.” I did not bother to hide my resignation or irritation, but he still looked overjoyed.
“Your parlor?” He asked, just as Anika said, “Your usual table, my lady?”
“Certainly, Mistress,” I agreed pointedly. “This will be brief, after all.” I stood behind the bar mixing my drink while she sat him, then motioned for her.
“Yes, my lady?”
“I am certain that I desire more brevity from this conversation than does the baron,” I informed her, and she nodded. “Please send someone over in a few minutes with my things from the kitchen? Nichte has put a plate aside for me.”
Let’s get this over with.
“What can I do for you, Lord Leigh?” He watched me sip my cocktail. I did not offer him refreshment.
“I have been greatly troubled all the day by the events of this morning,” he began, his manner intent. “It matters not where you are from, Lady Isabelle - I cannot come to terms with the delusion that a woman of your status would be allowed to make such a monumental decision without a male guardian.”
I knew that he was speaking English, but everything he had said was so fucking absurd I couldn’t quite comprehend it.
“You have been troubled ‘all the day’ by the knowledge that I am free to make my own life choices?” I mean, that was nuts even for 1649. I must have misunderstood him, right?
“My dear Lady Isabelle, as a woman you are understandably simple, and delicate,” he continued, doubling down on his condescending misogyny. “It is natural that you might be taken with the agreeable countenance and striking figure of the Lieutenant Commander, but a man would understand that I am a baron. You do understand, dear lady, that he is only a second son?” Lord Leigh all but sneered. His pompous attitude only made him less attractive. “As a titled landowner, I will be able to provide for you far more magnificently than a simple soldier. For all the dashing figure he may cut, the lieutenant commander is far more likely to leave you a young widow.”
Wow. I didn’t even know where to begin with anything about that. Unfortunately, that left me blinking stupidly, which Lord Leigh took as an invitation to keep talking.
“Perhaps there is more between you?” He raised an unkempt, bushy eyebrow at me and then leaned forward, lowering his voice. Lord Leigh’s breath smelled like black licorice and burnt bread. “My lady, I know it is an indelicate subject. However, you need not feel obligated to marry him simply because he has dishonored you--” I drew back with a frown. “I feel it would be remiss of me not to mention- Lady Isabelle, I saw the familiarity in his manner. I only mean to say that we are not on the mainland. I, for one, would be willing to overlook the loss of your virtue if he has foisted himself upon your form,” he concluded, leering nauseatingly at said form before dragging his eyes back up to my face. He even had the nerve to smile at me, as though he was doing me some great favor by being willing to marry me even if I had had sex with the lieutenant commander.
You cannot punch a baron in the face.
I channeled my mother. She was a paragon of properly handling distasteful situations while maintaining a high level of classiness. It is always best to smile as you hold your sword, Isabelle. I put on one of my best society smiles.
“Lord Leigh. May I be honest with you?” He gazed at me expectantly, the start of a smile on his face. “Your lack of acceptance - and frankly, complete disrespect for the values and customs of my homeland has left me stunned. I find it disappointing that a prominent, titled landowner such as yourself - a baron, no less - would say such cruel and heartless things to a delicate lady.” Silk kerchief in hand, I blotted at the corner of my eyes, lest my imaginary tears spill past them. “Furthermore, my lord, my family is headed by a matriarch. Her name is Lady Vivienne of Heron’s Landing, and she is my mother. You may write to her if you wish. I am certain she would have much to say regarding your opinions about the capabilities of ladies.” I rose quickly and curtsied before he could sputter out more than a few syllables. “Good night, Lord Leigh.”
