The hold was smellier than Caroline had anticipated, and the scent of unwashed men, caged animals, and boiled fish was extreme. She held a handkerchief over her face.
The storage portion was not as tidy as she expected either. The mail bags were on their own special shelves, three rough planks nailed into the central wall. Netting kept them anchored in place. The bags themselves were large, cylindrical affairs of oiled leather, tightly belted with metal buckles, and with an official seal of the British Royal Mail stamped in the top.
The room was low-pitched and cramped, and stuffed floor to rafter with crates, barrels, boxes, chests, and strong-boxes. It had a wooden, hinged door, but no lock. There was a smell of raw potatoes and grain, as well as mildew and dust.
“We can’t search within these packages,” the captain said, “but perhaps if we shift things about…”
“Surely a thief wouldn’t stow a necklace in this place,” Caroline protested through her handkerchief. “They would want to be sure it was safe, and they would never know if someone chanced across it. Also it is just—” She didn’t know how to explain her second objection, but it was something to do with the sheer volume of packages. Shifting all of these to find a nook or cranny looked exhausting for five men, let aloneone.
But searching was their purpose, and Caroline could hardly argue. She stayed for the first quarter hour, but as the dust and mold flew, she retreated to the door where the ship’s surgeon looked on. “I don’t suppose anyone would hide the gemsina mailbag,” Caroline mused. “Trusting that we would not look there?”
“Don’t evensuggestto Captain Smythe that we open the mailbags,” he said. “He will never hear of it. And we shall all be subject to more lectures on the sanctity of the mail.” There was a glimmer of humor there.
“A fair point,” Caroline agreed. “And it really would be outrageous if someone tried. Like hiding a stolen horse in the neighbor’s barn.”
“Yes, ma’am.”
Lady Marston was predictably angry at the fruitless search, but after a few caustic comments at their midday meal, she restrained herself to long exhalations with a flared nose, and suspicious glares at any crewmember—even the steward, first mate, and cook—who came within her sight.
It was in the afternoon, after Lady Marston had gone to lie down, that Sophia tentatively mentioned the wager to the other ladies. “I understand if no one is in the mood, but we could play our cribbage tournament. I know it would take my mind off unpleasant things.”
“I don’t see any harm in it,” Caroline agreed. “Do you mind, dear?”
Richard kissed her cheek. “On the contrary, an excellent idea. I’ll watch.”
Anne and Wentworth were game, and Mr. Belvedere clapped his hands like he’d just won a game of lottery tickets. “Capital! We all need a little distraction.”
They sat in the middle of the long table, with Caroline placed diagonally from Mrs. Scott, who was to be her partner. Anne sat next to her, at a diagonal from Mr. Belvedere, her partner.
“I must apologize at the start,” Anne said to him. “I know I am not as adept as Caroline, but I shall do my best to give you a fair chance.”
“That’s all I ask, ma’am.”
Richard sat down on Caroline’s other side, and Wentworth sat by Anne. Sir Mark, at loose ends, plunked himself down next to Sophia. “Give him what-for, Sophie, that’s what I say.”
“I shall try, I promise.”
They placed Anne’s cribbage board—a lovely thing of red wood and ebony, with perfectly spaced holes and ivory pegs—in the center of the table. After cutting the deck, Sophia got first deal. She shuffled the cards expertly and dealt five to each player.
Caroline examined her cards, discarding a six into the crib. It broke one of her pairs, but discarding any other card would sacrifice a nine—which was worth more as they equaled fifteen with her remaining six—or a king, which was worth ten…
When the discard calculations were done, the pegging portion of the game began. They moved their pegs precisely up the board with points for aces, face cards, and face value for the numbered cards as they played. Everyone seemed to be relieved to temporarily forget the unpleasantness of the morning. It was a high-scoring round, for Caroline was not the only one who had been dealt a good set.
Richard occasionally twitched when she played, but he raised his hands in surrender when she gave him a look. “I said nothing! It is your game.”
“That’s right,” Mr. Belvedere said. “No outside help, even from husbands! You must let your better halves play.”
Richard agreed, although he was too expressive not to grimace or grin at Caroline’s potential plays. “Richard,” she finally said, with severity, “you will give my entire game away if you keep on!”
“I know, I know,” he said. “I’ve never been a good gambler. My fellow officers could always see right through me.”
“I thought you were exaggerating about that, but apparently you were not,” Caroline agreed.
He covered his face the next time she played. “I will give nothing away, I promise!”
The others laughed at him.
Anne refrained from looking at her husband, admitting that she would be tempted to follow his lead if he looked skeptical or disapproving.
