16. The Phoenix

     Mr. Andrews had not attended any further social events, much to my sorrow; all of the other men I ended up seated next to were far less charming dining companions. I, however, did receive a note from someone named Helene from his estate, who had been directed by Mary to contact me. 

     As it turned out, some of the items I had taken from the Try Your Luck had been set marked ‘100’, which I now understood to mean ‘The Hundred Acre Wood’, which was the official name of Mr. Andrews’ estate. The tools, dry goods, and other included items matched the things Helene had written to retrieve.
     I decided to write and invite Helene to come up for a social call while she was picking up the items, and was thrilled when she cordially accepted. With all that I had been hearing about the place, I was dying to meet another actual employee. 
     On the day of her arrival, I had cooked, of course. I would take any excuse to have a new guinea pig, particularly with all of the long familiar recipes that I was trying to recreate using local ‘technology’. In addition to the meat pastries, soft pretzels, and apple tarts, I wanted to try out some of the new servingware and things I’d found in the treasure trove of Anne’s hold. I was unusually nervous, and I wanted to make a good impression. I wondered if Helene would be cool, like Mr. Andrews had been.
     You wouldn’t even believe how happy I was to discover that Helene was a Black woman. She was about ten years older than me, I thought. I smiled at the woman across from me, taking in her fresh bantu knots as well as her clothing. Despite being richly brocaded and embroidered, the jet black and ecru garments she wore were also pragmatic, and looked like the sort of thing I would expect to see onstage in some sort of Shakespeare production.
     Eager to talk to Helene alone, I sent Josefa-Maria off, ensuring that she closed the door behind her. “Coffee?” Helene nodded, and I poured two steaming cups before joining her.
     “Thank you for allowing me to get the cargo.” She smiled at me. Helene had an easy smile. “That was a rare treat.” 
     “A rare treat? How so?” I asked, sipping carefully.
     “The captain doesn’t allow anyone on her ship. It was interesting to see her hoard.”
     “Really? I’ve gone sailing with her loads of times.” I chuckled. “It was rather like a hoard, wasn’t it?” Helene grinned at me again. “Have you known my captain long, then?” It certainly sounded like she had some familiarity with Anne. 
     “The captain and I have known each other long enough to wish we had never met.” That definitely sounded like someone who knew my sister. “I hope you know what you’re doing. She does not take theft lightly. But if you’ve truly sailed with her before perhaps you are different.”
     “It’s hardly theft, Helene. I’m mostly...holding the things for her. It’s more secure here, locked away.” What was a little sharing between sisters? Especially when one has kidnapped the other? “Here, try a meat pastry. It’s mostly duck. Let me know what you think.”
     “Duck?” I held my breath while she took a careful bite. “It’s lovely, my lady.  Thank you.”
     “Really? You’re not just saying that?” It could be really difficult to get honest answers from people when you were (fake) nobility.
     “I’m not in the habit of lying. Especially about food. Angelica would have my head.” She proved it by quickly eating another.
     I made a mental note to ask about this ‘Angelica’ person. “Oh, wonderful!” I clasped my hands together delightedly, making note of the mention of Angelica, in relation to food, once again. “What did you like about it?”
     Helene paused to ponder, gesturing with one hand while she searched for her words. “Normally these pastries come out so heavy. I enjoy that you cut the richness with...something. It makes for a brighter flavor.”
     I beamed at her. “You have no idea how thrilled I am to hear you say that! I’ve been adjusting to the kitchen here, but it’s- very different from what I’m used to. Well, the whole inn is, really,” I added. 
     “I can imagine.” She sipped her coffee, and I refilled it once she set the cup down.
     “You know,” I said slowly, “it occurs to me that you might be a great person to talk to about doing business here.” Helene was the closest thing I’d encountered to a peer, and I’d felt really comfortable with her from the moment she had arrived. 
     “Oh? How may I assist you, Lady?” She put down the pastry in her hand, her expression newly focused. 

     “Well...it’s not like things at home are perfect, you understand. But...doing things here, as a woman - how do you get anyone to take you seriously? Men are jerks in California too, but at least it’s not legal.” Over the past few weeks I’d noticed a number of men trying to make back alley deals through Ian with regards to my affairs, not to mention the boys club they had been trying to form at the shipyard.
     “Well, if you are the captain you simply shoot or blow up whoever disagrees with you.” Yup. She definitely knew my sister. “The rest of us usually operate behind a man to be taken seriously.” My lip curled, and I bit back the disgust I felt. My expression did not go unnoticed by Helene, who nodded in understanding. “You, however, seem too impressive to ignore – marrying the top naval officer on the island doesn’t hurt you either.” 
     “Yes. That’s what everyone says.” I shook my head. Of course, the fact that I was marrying Ian also seemed to give people the wrong idea about how I would be operating in the future. “It’s incredibly foreign to me, though. I’m used to more freedom with my decisions.” 
     “Freedom?” Helene shifted, narrowing her eyes. “My lady, can you elaborate?”
     I paused to think. “When I bought that land--”
     “The parcel of land to the west of Andrews?”
     “Yes, exactly.” I nodded. “I came to them with items to trade--”
     “Would this be the muskets and gunpowder?” 
     I nodded again. For someone who lived so far away from town she was certainly up on the goings-on. Then again, Anne had learned about my engagement while in an underground prison cell, so I really had no idea how gossip worked here.

     “They were perfectly willing to take the items, and then they made this whole big deal about how they were going to let me keep the land, even though I was only a woman.”
     “You are only a woman, my lady,” Helene smiled at me, raising her coffee cup.
     “But that’s just what I mean! There are plenty of people who might think such things in California, but it isn’t the law. Men and women are equal there, with the same rights.” At least on paper. 
     She raised an eyebrow. “California is a rare place then. Whyever did you leave?”
     When you put it that way, it did sound fucking stupid. “...My captain promised me an exciting summer of sailing,” I finally managed. “And I enjoy experiencing other cultures and places.” 
     “I apologize, I thought your captain was Captain Anne - but you have her cargo.” Helene frowned and shook her head. “I confess to some confusion.”
     “My captain and Captain Anne are one and the same, Helene,” I replied, amused.
     “Okay. I suppose – but sailing for excitement? For a summer?” She seemed truly mystified at the idea. “Yvonne said you were  ‘of a different ilk’. I just didn’t realize how different.” 
     Ilk? Yvonne was such a bitch, I swear. “Is the idea of sailing for pleasure so unusual, then?”
     Helene stared at me as though I’d said something truly preposterous. “The ocean is dangerous and unpredictable. I would not choose it as a means of recreation.”
     “Yes,” I said slowly. “I could see how that might be odd.” Especially because there were honest to god fucking pirates in these waters and nothing like a coast guard. “I suppose I’ve grown too used to the safe ports of my homeland.”
     Helene gazed back at me with dark eyes full of shock and skepticism. “You left a land of safe ports and freedom to sail with the Bitch Captain of the Seven Seas for a summer of entertainment and are now tying yourself to a man here? My lady, my confusion only grows.”
     There was something oddly unsettling about having my actions so clearly described by an unimpassioned observer. “Yes.” I stared back at her dumbly, then cleared my throat. “You do make some interesting points. I...well, in truth, this isn’t quite the trip we had agreed to. Anne kidnapped me, actually.” I wasn’t sure why I had confessed that, but here we were. “And then she was arrested.” I shrugged. “So I’ve been making the best of things since then.”
     “Ah.” Helene relaxed back into her seat. “That explains much. I’ve never known her to take passengers but I could believe she’d bring you against your will. Anne is careless with the lives of those unfortunate enough to encounter her.”
     I started to protest, but after Tavern Rock and the dude whose face she had turned into a particularly unnerving art project, I couldn’t say much.

     “Well, sometimes,” I adjusted the coffee pot and saucers to give my hands something to do. “So, Helene. As ‘just a woman’, how do you manage?” 
     She smiled. “Here, this town, I am ‘just a woman’ and work through Andrews. On my own land I do not allow anyone to stay who is not willing to take orders from a woman.” Helene paused for a moment, then favored me with a wry, conspiratorial grin. “At the first, I used your captain’s ‘shoot first and give orders second’ tactic until I found my own rhythm.”
     “After these few weeks I can see why Anne picked that method,” I laughed bitterly. “So, I am constrained to continue working through the men around me.”
     “We are none of us free. Show me a woman in this world who has control over her fate and I’ll show you a fraud. I must work through Andrews. You will be married soon and all this will be his. Even your captain is rotting in prison right now for daring to stretch beyond her means.”  
     “I thought she was in prison for putting a hole in the wall,” I said dryly. Fortunately, my fiancé and I had already discussed the matter of my properties.
     “Do you blow up unprovoked?” Helene shook her head, her expression dark.  “No, I imagine the men she was dealing with had her cornered and she needed to escape--” 
     “That was precisely what I thought,” I acknowledged, meeting her eyes. “She’s not particularly prone to starting nonsense. Very low tolerance for it, though.”
     “Again, I wouldn’t use the captain’s tactics in business, you must figure out your own.  I will say that people will treat you how you allow yourself to be treated--”
     “Yes! ‘People will do whatever you let them get away with’,” I quoted. “My grandmother always says that before she rips someone a new one.”
     “Your grandmother is a smart woman.”
     I smiled, and poured Helene another cup of coffee.

​

     A few hours later as I prepared for bed, my thoughts were full of the women in my family. My moms, Rose and Vivienne, my grandmother Gloria, and of course, Anne. My teachers, mentors, influences, confidantes. 
     It was one thing to learn about what time of year to plant which types of squash, or how to detangle my hair, or the best way to politely decline all sorts of invitations. I had never thought I would be learning first hand about ye olden days.

     But here I was, traipsing about in petticoats and corsets in the middle of summer in the seventeenth century. And here I was, seated at my cedar vanity, in a room lit by candlelight as I used cosmetics containing ingredients that hadn’t been invented yet. I wondered what my moms and grandmother would say if they could see me now. 
     I wondered what Anne was doing. 
     That night, I had an odd and vivid dream. Ian and I were at opposite ends of an orchard, surrounded by apple trees full of flowers and fruit. Our dream selves, at least. We were scantily clad in verdant vines and lush leaves, like an artist’s rendering of Adam and Eve in the garden. In the background, there were a number of people, too faded and wispy for me to make out with any clarity. 
Ian and I met in the middle, and as we joined hands, our attire sort of...grew. In addition to the lace-of-vines on my body, I now wore a flower headpiece with colorful, sprouting tendrils that twisted through my curls; Ian’s leaf loincloth had changed to include a flowing cape of delicate, curling green ferns. Both of these new items connected into the earth beneath our bare feet and through that, the people behind us. Our joining, somehow, had solidified them, and I could recognize a number of the faces. Both sets of my parents, my grandmother, people I recognized from photographs.  
     I knelt down with Ian at a clear, bubbling spring and drank. Once we had slaked our thirst, we joined hands again and then walked into the water. In retrospect, that was when it got strange, though it didn’t seem so at the time. The greenery that trailed behind us sprouted into two little green sprites. Our children, I realized, watching as they bounded ahead of us along the path of the spring. A third child joined them. They waited for us at the end, cavorting through the water at a pool that appeared at the end. Behind them waited the previously-faded people from the background, now filled in and solid.
     At the end, Anne waited for me, wearing a gown of bluebells and honeysuckles. She linked arms with me on one side; on the other Ian, stood, holding my hand. The sprites - who now looked fully human, aside from their plant-like garb - snuggled into us, adorable smiles on their chubby little faces. Then the sun flared, briefly, like a massive flash, freezing the entire scene like a gorgeous, ethereal tapestry. 
     The morning sun was bright in my eyes when I woke, searing that final image in my mind’s eye.

​

     The first big thing on my agenda was legal paperwork with Davies and Ian. Anika had volunteered as chaperone and was seated unobtrusively in the corner, working on the ledger.
     Davies burst into the room like a ball of lightning. “Good morning, my lady! I was overjoyed to get your invitation here. I admit to much confusion over your letters discussing your current legal needs. I must have read your last post at least eight times before finally throwing my hands in the air and deciding that I must hear directly from the horse’s mouth so to speak.” He chuckled. “But I always relish the opportunity to come to town and meet with you, my benefactress extraordinaire! Now, I have here some of your missives--”
     “Yes,” I interrupted, for fear that he would continue on indefinitely. “I got the impression from the lieutenant commander that the concept of a prenuptial agreement is not something that the English are familiar with?”
     “I do have questions about that, yes.” Davies set his cup down, looking at me with bright blue eyes. “To start, what is a prenuptial agreement?”
     Dismayed, I sighed. I had thought that point, at least, would have been pretty clear from my letters? “Quite literally, it is an agreement made between two persons before marriage. In this case, I am referring to the retention and control of assets brought into the marriage by the parties involved in said union.”
     “Yes, my lady.” Davies nodded at me amiably. “What about them?”
     “It has come to my understanding that in your traditions all of the woman’s possessions default to the purview of the husband?” 
     “Ah! Yes, I understand now. Yes, your father’s holdings under your name will become the possession of Lieutenant Commander Coventry, as will you.” I frowned at that, and how. 
     He hastened to reassure me. “However, I assure you that he seems a caring husband and you will be sure to enjoy a happy –”  
     “Thank you, Davies,” I murmured, then cleared my throat. “As you know, we do things very differently in California--”
     “It does sound splendid there!”
     I smiled at his exuberance. “Quite. As such, however, I am not inclined to give over possession of my properties and lands, and wish to have documentation drawn up to this effect.”
     “Ah. So you wish for your father to retain them? Or an uncle perhaps? Older brother?”
     “No.” Was he serious? “I wish to retain my belongings under my own name.”
     “Right. Well, no one would dream of taking your dresses and jewelry from you, my lady.” He had the nerve to give me a reassuring smile after that too. 
     “Do you honestly think I have asked you here to speak about drawing up paperwork over my dresses, Mr. Davies? I own real estate.” I shook my head. “Let me speak more plainly. I will need to have documentation written up that assures I will retain ownership and total control over all of my properties. The Lieutenant Commander and I will sign these papers and you will keep copies.” 
     “Well, I suppose if the Lieutenant Commander agrees to such a document. But I have to ask, why, my lady?”
     “Why?” I glared at him. “Why‽ What do you mean, ‘why’? Why would a woman wish to keep control of her own things in a place where everyone just assumes her husband will take over everything, including her own person?” Anika nodded silently in the corner. 
     “I apologize, my lady. I do seem to have offended you and I believe I understand the issue.” He paused, steepling his long fingers together. “You see, while you do control the day to day aspects of your business the actual ownership is not yours. It can’t be. Women do not exercise ownership as such.”
     I took a long sip of my drink before I spoke again. “Davies. I would greatly appreciate it if you would simply write down what I tell you in the proper legal terms. Would that be possible?”
     “I regret to disappoint you further,” Davies said, shaking his head sadly. “There are no proper legal terms in regards to a woman. I will of course write down anything you wish. Any document can be made to your specifications.”
     “I see,” I replied, exhaling slowly. And I did. Would you like me to declare you the Empress of Earth? I can write any such silly document you like, my lady. I bit back my irritation, focusing instead on getting his opinions on the array of snacks between us until Ian arrived. He was as heart-stoppingly handsome as ever as he approached me, taking my hand in his and bestowing a loving, lingering kiss upon it. Today he wore a simple but well made coat of dark grey wool, trimmed with cornflower blue silk that brought out his eyes. 
     “Good morning, Coventry!” Davies had also stood to greet him. “I was just telling your intended here that I am so delighted every time I receive an invitation to meet with one or the other of you.”
     “Good to see you as well, Davies. Always a pleasure.” They did the whole ‘manly handshake’ thing, and then Ian sat, availing himself of the soap and water before helping himself to refreshments. I hid a smile behind my cup, remembering how intrigued Davies had been to partake of my ‘strange tradition’ when I explained it to him. 
     “Have you had any of these pastries your delightful lady here has prepared? I tell you she could give the cooks at Eton a run for their money, eh?”
     Ian grinned as he swallowed a piece of cake. “I was telling her just such a thing the other day. Lady Isabelle made a dessert last week that was very similar to one –”
     “Gentlemen,” I interrupted them, gritted teeth forming a polite smile. “If I could direct you both to the matter at hand?” At their surprised nods, I continued. “Lieutenant Commander, our friend here was just sharing his opinions about the absurdities of my desires for a prenuptial agreement.” Davies flushed, shuffling a stack of blank pages and needlessly adjusting his inkpot.
     Ian nodded, his eyes thoughtful. “Have no fear, darling.” Ian shifted to address Davies. “In Lady Isabelle’s homeland, she would be able to retain her holdings whether wed or not.” Davies’ eyes went wide as he took in this amazing and wholly new information. “Therefore, she is requesting we devise a similar document for us both to sign.”
     Davies grinned at him, nodding. “Of course, Coventry, of course. Let’s begin.” And then, he did. He just started writing.
     What the absolute fuck. “What just happened?” I demanded, startling Anika. I had nearly forgotten that she was even here. “You made it seem as though my request was so ridiculous, and then he just waltzes in here and says exactly the same thing, and you’re all ‘pip pip cheerio’ and you’ve already started writing!” 
     “Should I stop, my lady?” Davies looked back and forth between the two of us. “Coventry? Shall I continue?” Speechless, I threw my hands in the air and motioned for him to continue.

     We were halfway through our second pot of coffee and entire tray of snack cakes before the document was completed. Ian and I signed our names at the bottom and I felt just a little bit better.     

     “So, Coventry, what do you wish me to do with this?”
     Ian looked at me to respond, and I launched into it. “In California we would want to have multiple copies for all parties involved.” I paused. “Oh. But then, we would also usually use separate lawyers...” Then again, he hadn’t negotiated or asked for anything other than clarification, so maybe that was alright? Focus, Izzy. “We’ll need to file it. With the local courts, I assume? And perhaps also in England, just in case one party or the other decided to go to court over something in the paperwork.” The two men exchanged a look. “What?” I didn’t even bother to hide my testiness this time.
     Davies cleared his throat awkwardly, then made himself very busy with his inkpot.

     Ian stood. “My lady, a word please?” I sighed, but allowed him to take me out of earshot. “The local courts will not honor this. I did not realize you were hoping to take me before a judge over local holdings here on Somers Isles,” he added, smiling down at me gently. 
     I was not amused. “Hoping? I am not hoping for any such thing. It’s meant to be for the protection of both parties, you understand? I am only wanting assurances. I have learned that women are not considered equal citizens here,” I added firmly.

     Ian took a deep breath, and then my hand, his eyes narrowed in thought. I had a knot in my stomach as I gazed up at him, waiting for him to speak again. “Isabelle, you are a miracle to me. You are more than I have ever dreamt of. I have never yet wished you had grown up among my countrymen.” He paused, clearly searching for words. “I do not know how to explain this to you. The courts will never agree to even see you. I will do everything in my power to keep you happy and satisfied. To me you will always be a miracle, never a possession. But outside our home, you will be the woman the world sees you as.”
     Just a woman. Just as Helene had said.
     I twisted the ring on my finger and started to pace. “In other words, this piece of paper is meaningless.”

     Here, when a man acquired a wife, he acquired everything she possessed. Other than her dresses and jewelry, of course! No wonder Lord Leigh and the others had been so interested in proposing marriage. Lady Isabelle comes with 200 acres and an inn, and you’ll get to mount her as often as you wish! She is only a woman, after all, she has no rights. Hahahaha! They probably thought the Try Your Luck was mine as well, the fuckers. 
     Jesus Fucking Christ. I was getting a headache and I felt like I was on the verge of bursting into angry tears. Yeah, that would show them. 
     “It is not meaningless to me, darling. I promise that I will respect your wishes in all such matters.” 
     My mother was a firm believer in the value of a prenuptial agreement - not with an eye to the dissolution of a marriage, but simply as a form of insurance. Which also didn’t exist as I knew it. 

     Ian’s cheerful willingness to sign anything I wanted suddenly felt different. What difference did a contract make if the courts would never even see me to enforce the terms? 
     I froze in my steps. “What would happen if you were cruel to me? What recourses would I have?” He looked down at me in concern, but I pressed on anyway. “Or if-- we were to separate? What happens to these things then?” What would happen to me?
     Ian looked disturbed. “I do not understand this way of thinking--”
     “And I don’t understand your culture where women are legally second class citizens. I’m trying to work within this, but I need protection, and assurances...and...” I trailed off, shaking my head as I went back to wearing the rug thin. 
     “What is the matter, darling?” Ian asked quietly. “I am certain there is more to this.”
     He was right, as usual. “I’m...well...” It was difficult to say aloud, and I found myself fiddling with the lace on my cuffs. Stop that, Isabelle. “I suppose I’m afraid,” I confessed quietly.
     Ian stared down at me, his eyes narrowed in puzzlement. “Whatever of? You cannot be afraid of me--”
     “I am afraid of the way things work here!” Davies and Anika looked up at my sudden outburst, and I felt my face warm. “I am giving up everything I know, to become no different than a head of cattle, unable to even be granted the courtesy of a court appearance to plead my case? Even the lowliest of peasants is legally entitled to that right in my homeland!” Maybe Anne was right and I was absolutely insane. Even Helene had been flabbergasted by my choices, and she was from here.  “In California, women have fought for the freedoms we have, and I’m just going to throw it all away? In a matter of weeks? That’s absurd!” My heart was racing, and I was pretty sure I was starting to hyperventilate. In the corner of my eye, Ian and Davies exchanged a look. “What would my mother think?” I murmured to myself, ignoring them.
     While my sister still loved and supported me in my dreams, our last real interaction had been less than snuggly, to put it mildly. For all I knew, she would still find a way to escape, intent on taking me back to California. 
     Maybe I should let her.
     “Anne was right,” I declared. “This is all so very fast. We come from completely different worlds, and we barely even know each other! It’s not like we’ve been dating for years and have had the chance to get to meet each other’s family and friends. My goodness--” I turned to look at him, vaguely aware that everyone in the room was staring at me like a bomb with only seconds left until detonation. “Do you realize, we’ve never even taken a weekend away together and...” I trailed off. And we haven’t even had sex yet!  “It’s not reasonable,” I whispered to him, nervously twisting the diamond ring on my finger again as I wandered off to stare out the window.  
     After a few moments, Ian followed me. “My lady,” He interjected in the emptiness that followed my rambling. “Would you feel a greater degree of security if we were in your homeland?”
     I turned to stare at him. In my homeland? “What do you mean?”
     “I am an officer, and a gentleman, with a number of years of honorable service. Once this civil conflict has passed, I would be well within my right to request and be granted discharge.” He gave me a tender smile. “If you could bear with me, and my burdensome culture until then - let us just say, I would have no objection to taking up in California with you.”
     “Am I hearing you correctly? Are you really offering to move to California?” 
     “I would be very willing to live in your kingdom. I imagine that there would be adjustments to be made, but there is nothing that you have said about the place that sounds unbearable. And the foods you have introduced me to have been a delight.” He said it so casually, as though it was just as simple as picking up and going from one city to another. To him, it was. “I swear, Isabelle, I will do anything to keep you happy.” His voice was quiet and intense, marked for my ears only.
     You can’t be serious, I started to say, but “you would do that? You would move to California for me?” came out instead. He nodded. “But - you don’t know anything about it! It’s a completely foreign place--”
     “I am not so overly attached to England. I have adapted to the Somers Isles well enough, and California is clearly a far more civilized place than this.” He paused, taking me in - which I assume included an expression that was equally overwhelmed and puzzled. “My lady, it is difficult to find fault with a kingdom that is advanced enough to place such high importance on hand washing, the education of the majority of its subjects, a number of guaranteed rights for its citizens...” It was Ian’s turn to look mystified. “And they speak English there...of a sort,” he added with a teasing smile. But his eyes were all sincerity. “Truly, I look forward to learning more about the land that produced you, and I would love to experience it all first hand.” 
     “You are not just saying this, are you? You really mean it,” I said, mystified. Of course, he didn’t - couldn’t - truly know what he was offering, but the fact that he was willing meant the world to me. That he would genuinely offer to relocate to a place sight unseen because he loved me meant more than I could put into words.
     “I would never wish for you to feel trapped or less than what you are, my dear,” Ian said to me quietly. 
     “Really?” I sniffled. There were tears of joy running down my cheeks when I finally dared to look up at him again. Ian withdrew a square of silk from his jacket, delicately blotting my cheeks as he held my face in his hands.
     Across the room, Davies cleared his throat, holding a thick book. “Coventry, Lady Isabelle, if I may? I think I have a suggestion that is both legal and adequate to your terms. It’s not entirely traditional, but as you are foreign, I believe that we can make it work. And we will have the ‘feme sole’ doctrine,” he said after a thoughtful pause. “Are you familiar with dowries and dowers?”
     I blinked at him, and he rose as I made my way back to the couch. “Only in the vaguest of terms. We don’t use such in California, usually.” I paused, tilting my head at him. “Aren’t they the same thing?”
     “That is not so, my lady,” Davies replied with a boyish grin, “they are similarly named, but have different meanings and purposes.” I listened carefully as he detailed the differences between the concepts. As I understood, a dowry was something paid by the bride’s family to the groom or his family at the time of marriage, whereas a dower was something given or provided by a husband or his family, to a wife for her support if she were to become widowed.  
     “Alright...” I shook my head. “But I don’t understand how this relates to my concerns.” It appeared I was alone in my lack of understanding, judging from the smiles the two gentlemen were sporting.
     Ian was hasty to interject. “Darling, this is brilliant. Davies has outlined the specific terms that would allow you to maintain your real estate here, just as you desire.”
     “Oh,” I breathed, mildly stunned. “Really?” Davies gave me an enthusiastic nod, then went on to detail the wording that would be most helpful regarding the documentation and terms. From my understanding, these things were normally done as handshake deals, but since our terms were so unusual, it was best to have it all in writing. Davies took his time with the wording, explaining in detail (mostly for my benefit) why he was phrasing things as he was.
     Technically, my real estate assets would become Ian’s upon our union, but then they would immediately be placed into a dower - which seemed to be a sort of trust - for my use should I become widowed or mistreated. The ‘day to day aspects’ of my business would remain under my control, as Davies had initially informed me - and as I well knew, my fiancé had no interest in the operations of an inn or a shipyard. Well, that wasn’t entirely true. Ian had certainly shown an increasing amount of interest in the products of the inn’s kitchen, and he had also given me some interesting information about ship building - his family’s estate, Avington, also had shipyards - but he was wholly uninterested in adding to his already significant duties.
     I felt a tentative sense of relief with these results. The fact that neither of the other people involved in the creation of the document had had any inkling of the idea of a prenup before meeting me made this completely legal and valid document all the more impressive.

     Yes, it was a whirlwind romance, but I hadn’t allowed myself to be entirely swept away by love madness. I would enter into things with birth control and a solid plan of financial preparedness. 
     When I refocused, Ian was in the middle of speaking. “Yes. Then how shall we proceed?”
     “Well then Lieutenant Commander, if the wording is suitable to you – and your soon to be wife – not going to forget her, right? No, sir, we are going to make sure no one forgets the impressive Lady Isabelle!” Davies beamed at me. “Then I shall have the copist make several of these documents, we shall all repeat the signing. The original will stay with me - I have rather an impressive carved wooden lock box to store important documents - and all that’s left is for you both to live a long, happy, and profitable life together.” Davies nodded at us and began gathering up his papers and writing implements. His expression had become far more serious than I was used to seeing. “When I get married –”
     “Ever the optimist, Davies.” Ian teased him lightly.
     “Indeed. Shall that happy day ever occur, I will want to see that my own wife has such protections.” He was unusually solemn. “Yes, I will keep this safe for you, Lady.”
     “So...we’re all settled then?” I asked, looking back and forth between the two of them. I had been on such a roller coaster of emotions during this entire exchange I could hardly believe that things had actually been resolved.
     “We are indeed settled,” Ian replied with a pleased smile. He refilled all of our glasses, starting with mine.
     “Thank you, Davies. I feel much relieved. A toast?” I raised my glass. “To independence, and equality.” We clinked our glasses. The men took sips, but I drained mine. In a very ladylike manner, of course. Oh calm down, they were only coupe glasses anyway. “Now that all of that important business is concluded - can I interest either of you in some more cakes?”

​

     As it turned out, Ian and I weren’t only being invited to more parties because of our wedding - more people were throwing parties because of it, as an excuse to invite the lieutenant commander and his bride and attempt to ingratiate themselves enough to secure an invitation. (Anika had mentioned to me that business was picking up all over the island, though it took a while for me to realize that I was at the center of most of it.) It was hardly necessary; Ian and I had already planned on inviting the proverbial ‘everyone who’s anyone’, but the upper crust on the island wasn’t taking any chances. 
     Being here at the Wallington’s now felt completely different from the last time. I was still the new girl, but I had been officially accepted by the nobility now, which made everything different. Lady Isabelle did odd, unusual things, even for a foreigner, but she was engaged to be married to the lieutenant commander, and that meant she was, after all, Normal and Relatable. 
     Ian and I were all smiles as we greeted the other guests, pausing for drinks offered by tray bearing servants. My smile faltered when I saw that Lord Leigh was not only again present, but would also be seated beside me at the table. The baron grinned at me unpleasantly, making my skin crawl. I shot Ian a Look as he sat on my other side, and he nodded at me reassuringly. My eyes darted to Lady Wallington, intent on sussing out her intentions with this seating arrangement, but to my surprise she was burning a hole into Lord Leigh’s dour black coat. Hmmm. Across the table, Lady Catherine gave me a look of genteel concern. 
     As before, our hostess began conversation to the left, and I gritted my teeth as I turned to greet Lord Leigh. 
     “I was most pleased to be seated next to you this evening, Lady Isabelle,” the baron said, and I winced at his volume. His voice was loud enough to attract attention from those several seats away.
     Why? What part of my ‘you’re a misogynistic asshole’ speech could possibly have made him eager to be in my presence again? “Oh, my lord?” I returned politely.
     “Indeed.” He smiled again, then lowered his voice, leaning uncomfortably close to my seat. On my other side, Ian stiffened in the midst of speaking with Lady Aaoka, jaw clenched like iron. “You are still unmarried, my dear lady, and therefore available to court.” 
     Carefully, I set down my glass and fork. I was afraid that if I kept them in my hands, they would become projectiles or weapons of some sort. Deep breaths, Izzy. I kept my eyes on the plate in front of me, counting the pieces of turnip I could find. 
     “It is not too late,” he continued, voice barely above a whisper. There was no way that this was considered polite dinner party behavior. “I would still be happy to take you as a bride, and give you the comforts that you deserve.” From the corner of my eye, I could see Ian shifting slightly, his face flushed. Even though he couldn’t hear what was being said, Ian was clearly aware that something was going on, and he wasn’t the only one. The Lavignes were also giving me concerned looks from their end of the table. 
     “Please stop,” I hissed through my teeth, glaring at him. I had never realized how unattractive an English accent could be.
     His eyes widened briefly, but instead of being warned off he only seemed more interested in the challenge.

     Honestly, how much more of this was I supposed to put up with? And it wasn’t only on account of proper table manners that I couldn’t turn to Ian. Vegas odds said it would result in a fight, and not of the minor variety that Rosamund and I had gotten into. 
     “You are far more suited to be the wife of a baron than that of a lowly soldier, Lady Isabelle.” His condescending chuckle sent a chill across my skin, and I found myself beginning to slide my plate away before I caught myself. Get it together, Isabelle. Everyone was already staring because the baron was making an ass of himself; I didn’t need to be a part of the spectacle. 
     When I met Lady Wallington’s eyes, she looked appalled and much paler than usual. She threw a dirty look at her husband at the other end of the table then promptly switched to her right side. I could have cried with relief. 
     Ian looked down at me appraisingly. “Darling? Is there something the matter with your bream?” He asked politely. I understood what he was truly saying. I shook my head, forcing my hand to steady as I reached for my wine. I had completely lost my appetite for anything solid. “My lady?” He asked quietly. 
     “Later,” I murmured. “I’ll tell you everything later.”
     When the ladies split off from the gentlemen, Lady Wallington made a beeline for me, pulling me aside as soon as I stepped into the drawing room. “My dear,” she started, pressing a tiny glass of rum into my hand, “I cannot begin to express my regrets over what you had to endure. I never would have seated you next to the baron!” She lowered her voice to a whisper. “Lord Leigh offered Lord Wallington a bottle of scotch for the position. My husband accepted, and said nothing of it to me until we were about to sit.” Lady Wallington shook her head, frowning. “I quite thought your betrothed might give him a blow!” I blinked at her wording, but I understood the meaning. “I think perhaps you should keep a close eye on Lieutenant Commander Coventry this evening, yes?” 
     There was little worry over that. Ian was waiting for me as soon as I exited the drawing room, offering me his arm and immediately sweeping me out into the garden. Open to everyone’s eyes, but away from their ears. 
     “My lady,” he said as soon as we were out of earshot, “it is now later. I am most interested to learn what transpired during dinner.”
     “You’ll have to wait, my love,” I responded, thinking back on Lady Wallington’s aside to me. I did not want Ian to go and give the baron a blow in the middle of this party, even if he was asking for it. “I will tell you everything during our ride back to The Phoenix.”
     He gazed down at me for a long, thoughtful moment, then nodded. “Very well, my dear,” Ian said, kissing my gloved hand. “I shall remain by your side for the remainder of the evening, and ensure that you do not suffer any further...intrusions.” 
     Ian was as good as his word, and with the intimidating (and armed) lieutenant commander attentively attached to me, Lord Leigh did not dare to approach.

     As promised, I relayed what Lord Leigh had said to me once we were in our conveyance, though I kept it to the gist instead of the exact wording. (I also did not mention the part that Lord Wallington had played in setting me up.) Seeing how pissed Ian was about the summary told me I had made the right choice. 
     “Ian,” I began. “There is more.”
     He raised an eyebrow at me, leaning forward to better see my face in the moonlight. “Go on.”
     With a heavy sigh, I told him about the night that the baron had come to The Phoenix, insisting that as a woman there must be some male person that I answered to. “I had hoped he had gotten the message, but alas, no. Tonight was merely a continuation of his awfulness.”
     “Lord Leigh has all the manners and gentility of an addle-pated, unwashed boar,” Ian fairly snarled, absent-mindedly tapping the hilt of his sword. 
     “You know, he has sent missives inquiring about renting the banquet hall. I am wondering if perhaps I ought to simply have Anika tell him that we cannot accommodate him.” I frowned. An awful thought had just occurred to me. “Do we have to invite him to the wedding?”
     Ian sighed. “Unfortunately, yes,” he replied, and I groaned. “However, there is every chance that he will not attend.”
    “Oh!” I brightened up at that, and Ian carefully shifted to move beside me, wrapping an arm around my shoulders. It was snug on the same side, but we didn’t mind. Kissing was much easier with this setup.
     Once we reached The Phoenix, Ian helped me down from the carriage, giving me a very chaste kiss on the cheek as we parted. Yes, look at us, we are paragons of decorum. 
     Alone in my bedchamber, I reviewed the day as I went through my nighttime routine. Old and new. Some things never changed. Men who didn’t understand ‘no, I’m not interested in you’, and ‘no, I don’t care about your money/title/looks’ were a plague through time.

 

     That night, I found myself seated in a large college lecture hall, packed with students. We were studying The Massacre at Tavern Rock and The Militia Ambush, according to the board, and the screen at the front of the room was full of familiar, bloody scenes that played again and again. The lecturer was thorough and direct, her back to us as she dissected the movements and actions of the persons contained within. 

     “This was already a tense atmosphere. You can see here,” her laser pointer highlighted the pirates brandishing their weapons. “This pirate initiates the physical assault, and this woman fights back.” The professor went on to detail the events that followed, from the release of the pepper spray to Rat’s final moments. The screen then went to the middle of the cedar forest, the laser pointer once again emphasizing the players and their actions. 
     “In both cases, the attackers are warned to desist, but they did not, would not listen.” The lecturer turned to face the class, and it was Anne, wearing glasses and a tweed coat. Just like Da used to. I started. We were in his lecture hall.

     Anne spoke again. “This was foolish. There is nothing to indicate that either of these women is bluffing or inept with their weapons. As they will learn,” she added, and the students tittered as Anne’s blade drew across Rat’s throat and my arrows thudded into the militia. The clock chimed, and the students began to gather their things. “Next time we’ll discuss why these women don’t - and shouldn’t - feel guilty,” Anne called out, looking directly at me.

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