The Sea Wind loomed large outside the carriage window. Izzy didn’t know anything, and somehow, despite being fresh off the boat Lady Isabelle was a new business owner. She handed over a few shiny gems, signed some papers, got a deed and was now the owner of a hotel - I mean, inn? One could scarcely imagine a fish more out of water than I currently was. And yet I was in charge of not only my own fate, but Anne’s.

     Back in my room, I locked the door, immediately lighting up. Once my nerves were a bit more settled, I secured the pouches of gems and gold within the trunk’s hidden panels, then emptied my reticule. I’d bought a broach for Mom - a silver cat, covered in tiny bits of onyx with emeralds for eyes - a gold bangle for Sunday, a filigree ring for Adaline, and a bracelet of turquoise, coral, and gold beads for Anne.

    The last item was a pair of absolutely gorgeous peacock earrings, each about the size of a quarter. The splayed tails were divided into sections, individually outlined in gold and filled with colorful bits of sapphires, rubies, and emeralds. I’d drooled over the earrings for so long that Ian declared he would buy them for me if I did not. 

      I sat my notes next to the new jewelry, feeling a sudden rush of panic. Every day since I’d arrived in the past had been a whirlwind, and here I was with six months in 1649 staring me in the face. In fact, six months here meant we’d be making our way through Anne’s magic portal in early 1650. If we could. I still had no idea how the portal operated. What if it was only accessible during certain seasons or special alignments of the stars and we missed it?

      Hands shaking, I poured myself a stiff drink, quaffing half of it immediately. My convict sister had gotten both of us sentenced to a six month term on this island, and it looked like getting both of us through it intact was going to be up to me. 

      “This air of wealth is your shield,” I whispered to my reflection.  Lady Isabelle gazed back from the mirror, a cloud of pearl trim and fine lace over satin. That meant playing the part that went along with it. “Lady Isabelle of California.” 

      Being invited to a genuine seventeenth century dinner party by a strikingly handsome British officer had seemed like a fun thing to check off my fantasy to-do list. Things were different now. Six months. Suddenly, tomorrow’s night event looked less like a frivolous excursion and more like a possibly important first impression on Ian and his friends. 

      I stared out the window while I finished my drink, then began to pore over my notes. At this point, it was anyone’s guess what the next six months might bring; hedging my bets could only be a smart choice. 

      “Lady Isabelle?” Josefa-Maria’s voice came through the door. “You have a messenger.” 

      I grinned, wondering what Ian had written to me. Instead of Ralph, however, one of Mary’s daughters stood before me when I opened the door. “Bettie?” I asked, and she nodded, handing over a folded piece of paper.  

​

     Lady Isabelle,

     I’ve been detained but you shouldn’t fear that I’ll be restored to you. We will be back on the seas shortly. Do not unpack too much of your trunk. Do not wander too far. I’ll be along to get you soonest.

 

    Your obedient servant,

   Capt. Anne

​

      Obedient servant? I snorted in a most unladylike manner. “I’ve been detained,” I read aloud. “Seriously?” She’d written this missive as though we were some sort of crime family and arrests randomly happened, ho hum. Like she wasn’t taking this seriously at all. I’ve been arrested, call our usual guy - I’ll be home for dinner. P.S. Save me some pie? 

       Maybe it stopped being a big deal once you were a regular. My little sister, the jailbird. Unbelievable. It was lucky she had me here looking out for her.

      I asked Josefa-Maria to make sure the girl got back to the Try Your Luck safely. She assured me she would, then smiled. “Congratulations! Mr. Wilhelm told us all that you are the new owner!” 

     “Thank you,” I replied, taken aback. I hadn’t anticipated so much enthusiasm. 

     “You wish to move tomorrow, yes?” She asked expectantly.

     “Move?” I asked, bemused.

     “Yes, my lady, to Wilhelm’s quarters,” Josefa-Maria nodded. “Much nicer and larger than your current room. We have already begun to make preparations,” she informed me, then curtsied as she took Bettie down with her. 

​

      Morning came swiftly; the commotion that awoke me started before the sun was even awake. I pulled a pillow over my head and pretended that there was any chance of falling back to sleep.

     When the noises continued, I groaned,tossing back the sheets. I was still tying my dressing gown when I poked my head out of the door.

      “My lady!” Anika appeared, wiping her hands on the apron she wore over her simple grey work dress. “Can I do anything for you? Should I send for Josefa-Maria? Or Gerta?” Her normally pale skin was very pink.

      “No, no,” I said, trying to make my voice work. “I-- What is all that noise?”

      “Apologies, my lady,” Anika replied, putting a hand to her ample bosom in consternation. “Mr. Wilhelm is moving out,” she informed me. “He spent the evening packing, and is having his trunks and things taken out now.” Anika shook her head and frowned. “We were hoping to have everything finished before you rose for the day--” 

      I interrupted her; the poor woman was wringing her hands. “It’s fine.” I swallowed a yawn. “Would you please have some coffee sent up? A lot of coffee. And breakfast, too, please.” She nodded enthusiastically. “And, Mistress? I need to meet with all of you, especially you and your husband, regarding....well, regarding the running of the inn going forward. When can we arrange that? Today? Tomorrow?”

      “Tomorrow would be a good day, my lady.” She paused, looking fretful. “We could manage today, of course, if you require it...”

     Today was already pretty packed, what with the huge party I was attending later, including the prep. Which included my fitting. I also needed to check on Anne. “Tomorrow is fine,” I assured her.

     Anika exhaled with relief. 

     “I’d like to close the inn for a few hours,” I said, “so that we can all speak without interruption. Whenever you think the best time would be.” 

     “Very good, my lady. We have most of our deliveries today, and with Mr. Wilhelm--” She shook her head, and a few blond wisps escaped from under her cap. “Thank you very much, my lady. I’ll have everything sent up for you right away, my lady.” She curtsied.

      “Thank you, Mistress. I look forward to speaking with you,” I told her, covering another yawn with my hand.

       “Oh,” Anika gasped, flushing even pinker. “Thank you, thank you very much, my lady.” She curtsied again and then hurried down the hall. 

       I blinked. She wasn’t usually so obsequious, or nervous. ...Before you were Lady Isabelle, a lodger; now you’re Lady Isabelle, her employer. I sighed. Hopefully everyone wasn’t going to start acting weird. 

       I yawned my way back into my room to wait for coffee.

​

     My new morning routine was a mix of new and old. Having servants to wait on me was new; coffee was comfortingly old. Pilates in the morning was an old habit; my surroundings were new. Even the land itself was an odd mixture of foreign and familiar. Today, I also practiced the dances Ian had taught me. New, and old. 

     The upcoming party seemed like more of the same. 

     Proper table manners were a non-negotiable part of daily life at Heron’s Landing - and Vivienne St. Germaine hosted lots of dinner parties, too. If she hosted a philanthropic event, Anne and I were there to sit, eat, and smile, showing off how elegant and refined we were.

     I wasn’t a huge fan of serving as decoration, but I was good at it. Even more impressively, I was able to get Anne to cooperate as well. If we behaved during dinner, Mom would be happy, and then we could get stuff. When we were kids, I’d ask for treats; once we were older, I’d get our curfews extended for the weekend. Simple.

     So - formal dining surrounded by a bunch of stuck up rich people? I could do it with my eyes closed. Old. Doing it in the seventeenth century, with actual, titled nobility? Definitely new.

    I wondered if Ian’s friends would be as fascinated by my hair and skin as our parents’ friends had been.

    I was wrapping up my stretching when the cadence of running footsteps and a whistle came from the street. I peered out the window. Oooh. There were about two dozen soldiers running in formation down the street in shirtsleeves and trousers, with buckets of rocks or coal carried on yokes across their shoulders - and they were led by none other than Lieutenant Commander Ian Alexander Coventry. Wow.

    “Is this what I’ve been missing by sleeping in?” I murmured. “Criminal.” But time travel had thrown off my Circadian rhythms, I realized.

     Down the street, several young women were milling around the front of a structure, also admiring the view. It was the same place Gerta had frowned at repeatedly. A brothel, in plain speak. 

    The redhead who had been smirking at me was standing outside too. “Roisin,” one of the girls called out to her with a smile, gesturing from the doorway. Roisin. I wondered if she worked there?

    “Curiouser and curiouser,” I murmured into my glass of water.

    Josefa-Maria entered with breakfast, and even more excitingly, a refill of my coffee carafe. I’d gotten up early in order to have plenty of time to eat my fill and digest some of it before yet another dress fitting. Josefa-Maria returned to clear everything away and I got cleaned up and ready for the tailor.

    This morning it was Matheo and Margarita - the tailor made it a point to be personally present at all final fittings, especially for clients of my stature, he informed me courteously. Our appointment went smoothly, and once we were finished, the room was full of new things.

    I let Josefa-Maria know that I would need her assistance dressing later; she responded by delightedly informing me that Anika and Liselotte were scrubbing down the owner’s suite, where I would have far more room. I had no idea who Liselotte was, but hopefully I would be able to remedy that when I met all of the employees. Other than Anika and Josefa-Maria, I didn’t know any of them. Come to think of it, I didn’t even know if Gerta was an employee.

     “Lady?” I heard her heavily-accented English through the door, like I had conjured her up.

     “Enter,” I called. I was seated at the desk, playing around with the fabric scraps Matheo had so nicely wrapped for me. The idea of blending these beautiful pieces into something new fascinated me. 

     She poked her head in to peer at me before opening the door all the way. “The lieutenant commander,” Gerta started and I got super excited, “has sent a messenger.” She moved out of the way and young Ralph entered. 

     Not quite as good as the real thing, but still nice. We exchanged greetings, and the teenager handed over a folded piece of paper and a small cedar box. “From Lieutenant Commander Coventry, my lady.” 

​

     Lady Isabelle, 

Congratulations on the successful acquisition of your first business. Please accept the enclosed gift as a token of affection and a charm towards future prosperity.

   Until this evening - 

   Yours, Lieutenant Commander Ian Coventry

 

     I stared at the small box for a long moment until Ralph spoke again. “I’m to await your response, my lady.”

     “Yes, of course,” I nodded, suddenly nervous.

      “My lady? Lieutenant Commander Coventry also wished for you to open it in front of me.” He looked embarrassed. “He wanted to be here to do this, and I’ve been ordered to be his eyes.” I raised my eyebrows at him. “If you’ll permit, my lady.” Ralph held the box up like a display mannequin.

     Sure. No pressure.  

     Except that you could have knocked me over with a feather once I opened it. Lieutenant Commander Ian Coventry had given me jewelry. More specifically, he’d given me a magnificent opal pendant. Holy fucking shit. I pressed my fingers to my lips to keep from making an ass of myself. 

    “Lady Isabelle?” Ralph’s voice was timid. 

    “I was not expecting this.” My voice came out quieter than I expected. A gift of congratulations?

    Nearly all of my interactions felt surreal, as though I was playing dress up with play money on a game board. Feeling as though I was in a dream, I withdrew the necklace from its artful arrangement. The sparkling, teardrop shaped cabochon dangled on an ornately patterned gold chain and nearly filled my palm. It was heavy, solid, and very real. 

     “Should I try it on?” I murmured.

     Ralph cleared his throat. “If you would please, my lady. Lieutenant Commander Coventry is most eager for a report.”

      The mesmerizing, egg-sized stone hung at the perfect cleavage-emphasizing length, I noted as I fastened it in front of the mirror. “What a fantastic piece,” I murmured to my reflection. I stared at myself in shock for a while before remembering that Gerta and Ralph were there.

      “Are you quite certain that this box was intended for me?” I asked, collecting myself.

     Ralph nodded, a small smile fighting at the corners of his mouth. “Yes, my lady. The lieutenant commander had me wait while he prepared it all.”

      I had Ralph sit down with a snack while I wrote out a thank you note to my ‘boyfriend’. Damn if he wasn’t already putting in the miles on that one today.

​

​

 Dear Lieutenant Commander -

​

        The pendant is breathtaking. I do not know if I possess adequate words to express my gratitude and appreciation for this absolutely stunning piece. 

       In truth, it seems too grand a gift for what I have accomplished. Nonetheless, I am touched by your continued generosity. 

           

  ♥️ Lady Isabelle D. St. G.

​

      I sent it off via Ralph, turned back to the desk and opened the journal Ian had given me.

​

Yesterday, I bought an inn - the Sea Wind Tavern, in St. George’s, Bermuda. One minute, I was trying to figure out if I could, and the next thing I knew, I was holding a deed! The entire thing was such a whirlwind, and I couldn’t have done it without LCC. He’s even sent a congratulatory piece of jewelry this morning. I will need to find a way to thank him for all of his help.

​

Today, I have a dinner party to prepare for and a new business to explore. 

​

​

      I was drawn to voices and other sounds coming from the owner’s suite before I made it to the steps. My new suite.

     “Might as well have a look,” I decided, casually sauntering down the hall. Inside, I was positively overflowing with excitement. 

     The owner’s rooms were tucked away at the very end of the hall, hidden from sight. I stopped at the doorway and peeked in; Anika was on her hands and knees, scrubbing the floor of the front room, and I was glad to be able to take the place in for the first time as a blank canvas. This front room was spacious enough to divide into sections. Maybe a lounging and reading area on one side and a small dining area on the other...

     A young blonde woman hurried around the corner, almost bowling me over in her haste. “Oh!” She gasped, nearly dropping the bucket of soapy water and other items she was carrying. “You! You are Lady Isabelle!” The young woman performed something that I think was meant to be a curtsy.

    “Hello,” I said with a smile. “What’s your name?”

    Her brown eyes darted about nervously. “I am Liselotte,” she said in a quiet voice.

    “It’s nice to meet you, Liselotte,” I replied calmly. “Thank you for helping Mistress Anika with these preparations.” 

    “My lady?” Anika rushed out of the room. “Is anything the matter?”

    “I was hoping to view the space,” I said, trying to keep the disappointment from my voice, “but I can come back. I don’t want to interrupt you.”

    “Oh, no, my lady, no interruption at all!” Anika beamed at me.

    “Are you quite certain?” I asked.

    “Yes, yes, my lady!” Anika gestured at the other side of the floor. “Here, this path is dry, my lady.”

    “Thank you, Mistress.”  Stepping carefully, I made my way through to the rear room. Behind me, Anika set Liselotte to start scrubbing where she had left off and followed me to the doorway. The bedroom was grander than I’d expected; there was even a fireplace. Josefa-Maria hadn’t been exaggerating about the space - this was a small apartment.

    As Wihelm and I had agreed, he had left behind two large pieces of dark cedar furniture: an armoire and a bedframe. Both were in nearly new condition, I noted, examining the pieces closely.

     “Here, my lady.” Anika stepped into the room proper and drew my attention to a door in the corner. It was wood and iron, with a thick wooden beam that barred it from the inside. 

    “What’s that?”

    “Why, it’s your private entrance. Either myself or Josefa-Maria will show you the door at the other end as soon as you like.”

     A well-secured private entrance. That sounded very nice indeed. 

    “I imagine you’ll have a list, my lady?” Anika said expectantly. “Pieces of furniture and such?” 

    “I imagine I will,” I said slowly. “Likely a number of items.”

    There was so much to take in and figure out...how did someone like Lady Isabelle settle into a place like this for what was ostensibly an extended vacation? When I turned around again, Anika had produced a small pad and a quill from someplace; Liselotte was holding a jar of ink like a human hutch.

   “Whenever you’re ready, my lady,” Anika said brightly. 

   “Oh, you meant now?” I looked around the room again. “I’m not quite sure yet.”

   “If there’s anything you’d like to start with, my lady.” Anika said. “We were hoping to have you properly established by the time you returned from the dinner.”

    That sounded awfully ambitious in a land without phones, but I was interested to see how it would turn out. “Very well,” I said thoughtfully. “What are my options for mattresses?”

    Once we had completed that, I headed downstairs, pausing to take a look at the special entrance my sister had made; fixing this topped my to-do list. All of the debris had been cleared away, and someone had begun repairs - there were a number of temporary wooden beams setup as bracing.

    Business didn’t seem to be suffering in the least, however. There were as many patrons in the tavern this morning as there were at any other time.

    I’d never spent much time in this room, but now that I was taking it in as the owner? There was a lot of work to do. Had there always been goats and chickens wandering through? Were those gnawed bones and dirty dishes on the floor? It was a wonder this place didn’t have rodents. My stomach sank. Of course this place had rodents. I just hadn’t encountered any of them yet.

    And then I saw the kitchen. Sort of. The room was full of smoke but I saw enough. Holy fucking moly, this place was an absolute nightmare.

    There was a layer of old straw on the floor, surfaces that were covered in dirty dishes and sacks of dry goods, and an open hearth that took up most of the wall and belched hearty amounts of smoke. 

    This was the finest inn in all of St. George’s? I bit back the rising bile. This was the setting for a failed health inspection of epic proportions.

    A tall, slim woman in trousers with reddish-brown skin and a very long black braid was standing in front of the hearth, stirring something in one of the large pots that hung within. 

   The cook, obviously. Anika had told me that her name was Nichte and said that she was ‘kind and industrious, if somewhat odd’ - primarily because she preferred to be called by her name instead of ‘Mistress’. I couldn’t wait to meet her after that.

    “Excuse me,” I called. 

    She whirled around, peering at me. “Lady Isabelle?” She asked uncertainly.

    “I am.”

    Nichte bowed. “My lady.”

     “Nichte?”

    She nodded. “Yes, my lady.”

     “Do you have a few minutes?” I looked around the room, taking in what I could see through the smoke. “And would you please open a window or something?”

     “Oh! Yes, my lady.” She hurried to the corner, and I heard a metallic scraping. After a few moments, enough of the smoke had cleared for me to see that she had opened the top half of the kitchen door; outside was the rear courtyard and alleyway. 

      “Nichte?” A frantic teenage girl ran into the room. “The porridge? I need the porridge!” She wailed with a heavy German accent.  

     “Gertrude!” Nichte gestured at me.

     The girl - Gertrude - yelped “Meine Dame!” and prostrated herself so lowly that her braids touched the straw on the floor. I raised an eyebrow in spite of myself.

     High-strung, Mom would have sniffed while stepping over her.

     “Please rise,” I said once I realized she was going to stay there until I told her otherwise. “That is not necessary. A simple curtsy will suffice,” I informed her with a smile. Because, dear god, let’s never repeat such a horribly awkward incident again. 

    “Ja, meine Dame,” she said, staring at me raptly. Gertrude was making me uncomfortable.

     Nichte handed Gertrude a tray with several bowls of porridge ladled from the pot and she scurried off. Finally. Nichte rolled her eyes at the girl’s back, shaking her head. “My lady? You wished to speak with me?” She had moved over to begin cutting up vegetables.

     “Yes.” I didn’t want to intrude on Nichte’s space, but I was beside myself to be in a kitchen that I owned. “Anika has arranged for me to speak with most of the employees tomorrow-” she nodded “-but this room is special. I couldn’t wait that long.” Nichte’s eyes flicked up at me as I peeked at the utensils hanging on the wall. “What are you making?” I asked, tucking my twitching fingers into my pockets. 

     “These are for stew,” she replied, gesturing at the vegetables she was cutting on one small table she kept in a clean-ish condition to work on.

    “All of these?” She nodded.

     I gathered my skirts and made my way through the room. “Many hands make light work,” I said, selecting a respectable knife. Nichte looked at me warily. I grinned while I blew through the pile of carrots and potatoes, aware of her awe. It didn’t take much to impress people when they expected nothing from you. “I’d like to know how you run your kitchen. Let’s start with your daily items?”

      Porridge, plain bread and a recipe that barely passed as soup, as it turned out. That was the best way to stretch profits from a customer base that was mostly there for an ale and cheap dinner. I was relieved to learn that my meals had been cooked elsewhere, and decided not to think about what the other kitchens in these parts might look like. 

      Nichte was rather dissatisfied with a number of aspects of her employment, as I learned while picking her brain about everything. I filled three pages with notes about cooking times and equipment, the availability of local ingredients, preferences of the current populace, and her own thoughts about improving the place. It was obvious to both of us that she needed a full time kitchen assistant. 

     “I could get a cleaning done before the day is out, if you would authorize the expense, my lady,” she said, and I could hardly agree fast enough. Nichte would still need regular help, but this was a start. I left a rather comprehensive, kitchen specific list of supplies to be purchased before finally escaping for fresh air. 

      Josefa-Maria and Ralph were waiting for me in the barroom. “My lady,” he said, handing over a folded note. It was from Ian, of course...but this contained a more serious topic than our usual exchanges.

     He started by inquiring as to how my day was going, then went on to inform me that the punishments related to the event involving my inn - yup, still weird - were carried out that morning, and that Anne had been spared flogging. It was heavily intimated that she had only been spared as a massive favor to me. No kidding, Lieutenant Commander. Either way, I was incredibly relieved. I had already heard rumors regarding the conditions of the others post-whipping, as my new inn was full of gossips.

     “Would you go and get Gerta for me please? I need a walk,” I told the maid. Anika’s husband, Bram, was behind the counter, pouring ale and cleaning glasses. “Are there writing implements back there?” I asked him. He retrieved them for me from beneath the bar, and I made my way behind the counter. I thanked Ian for all of his kind assistance with ‘negotiating the troubles with my captain’ and confirmed our plans to wear navy blue to the dinner party. 

     I handed the letter to Ralph with a thank you. “Let’s stroll, Gerta.” She looked worn out at the very thought. I missed Ian already.

      I  recognized a number of the children around the town square from my apple sharing adventure. Today, they were camped out right in the center of the vendors and their small wheeled carts, all selling a variety of fruits and other foodstuffs. 

      I sent Gerta around to buy a bunch of things from all of them. The kids were already eyeing me; they clearly remembered me from the apples. I waved at them cheerfully, and a few of the younger ones waved or smiled back. Gerta returned laden down and eyeing me warily, but she kept silent, and I dared to think that maybe I had blustered her into submission. I announced to the watching children that I was Lady Isabelle and I was sharing food, and that anyone who wanted to tell me their name would get two helpings instead of the regular one.

     Gerta, despite chowing down on chunks of linguiça, scared them into lining up properly and not overcrowding me. Or maybe because of it. Enough of the children present remembered me from before to urge the others to move along at a decent pace. 

      Maybe they would give me fake names or whatever to get extra food, but that wasn’t really my point. They would have to at least talk to me, maybe look me in the eyes. So I was taking advantage of my fake privilege. So I was buying human interaction and good feelings from starving urchins. Whatever, I never claimed to be a fucking saint, did I?

     At the end of it, I had fed a bunch of kids and gotten a bunch of names - a number of which I thought were actually legitimate: Bren, Rady, Lili, Fin, Fredo - and little Quinn, who had waited until all of the other children had gone before approaching me. Quinn mentioned his sister, Beth, and sweetly asked if he could take her something. Heart melt. I had given him four treats, two for each of them.

     “We’ll share them,” he told me shyly, explaining why he had picked four different things. “Then we can both taste them.”

      As the last of the children departed, Gerta shook her head disapprovingly. I frowned at her.

      “What is it now, Gerta?” I snapped. She was ruining my good mood.

      “You do know what happens, lady, when you feed strays, ja?”

      “Children aren’t strays,” I said firmly. “Don’t be cruel.” She grumbled something in German and under her breath; feeling pettish, I simply moved up to my normal walking speed. Ha.

      I was still floating high from my good deeds and various recent successes when I realized that Gerta and I were approaching the cathouse. My primary indicator was that Gerta had, as usual, begun to steer me wiiiiiide to the other side of the street, as if even being seen within a stone’s throw would Ruin My Entire Life. 

      You didn’t need to be a local to know that it wasn’t an appropriate place for a Proper Lady, but that didn’t keep me from being curious. I slowed my pace slightly, curious; Gerta was so relieved to be able to catch her breath she didn’t notice.

     In the distance, I heard the bell tower strike the hour. I’d stalled long enough; it was time to start getting ready for the evening. 

​