“I was at school in Bath for a time,” Anne put in. “I disliked it, but I did make one very good friend there.”
“I went to a ladies’ seminary in London before I came out,” Caroline said. “I enjoyed music and languages, but I was eager to join society when the time came.”
Mrs. Scott only smiled, and Caroline regretted pointing out the differences in their station. Most likely Mrs. Scott was not ofa class to enter society, and certainly not theton, as Caroline had done.
Sir Mark, now done with his meal and after looking sadly at his empty glass and the empty bottle, surveyed the rest of them through his quizzing glass. “I say, Colonel Fitzwilliam, I do rather like that coat. Who made it?”
“No one you would have heard of. Only a tailor who caters to former army men. Not a Stultz or Weston.”
“Ah, you’re an army man?” Mr. Belvedere said. “I thought very seriously of joining a cavalry regiment several years ago, but nothing came of it, sadly.”
Caroline frowned at Mr. Belvedere. “You must’ve been a mere baby several years ago.”
“Why no, ma’am! I’m older than I look, I assure you. It’s this dashed round face I’m cursed with. I’ve rarely met a lady yet who doesn’t end up wanting to mother me.” He shuddered.
Sir Mark gave a crack of laughter. “Learn to accept it, dear boy. It’s only a step from that to, er—better things.”
Caroline compressed her mouth at this course jesting. The older generation really had no manners at all. And they accused her generation of being squeamish!
Mr. Belvedere, to do him credit, turned it off. “Now, Mrs. Fitzwilliam mentioned cards earlier and then nothing came of it. One really mustn’t dangle cards in front of an avid player like myself and deny me! Who is in for a game? Piquet? Whist? Hazard?”
Sir and Lady Marston decided to retire, and Wentworth and Anne did also. Mrs. Scott rose uncertainly.
“Stay, Mrs. Scott,” Mr. Belvedere begged. “Do please make up a fourth for us, for Colonel Fitzwilliam and Mrs. Fitzwilliam have agreed to play. It would be too cruel to refuse for the trip has only just begun. Leave your scruples on land and do your fellow travelers a good turn.”
“If I’ve left my good scruples on land, why should I do you a good turn?”
“Oh, no, I’ve walked into a what’s-it—a syllogism or fallacy of some sort, haven’t I?”
“Yes, but I will play,” she said. “I do not think Lady Marston needs me just now.”
The game was lively, particularly when Mrs. Scott forgot her quiet manner and showed some of the shrewdness and intelligence that lurked beneath. As Caroline partnered with Richard, Mr. Belvedere partnered with Mrs. Scott. He was full of compliment for her play and even tried to get a wager going.
“No, no,” said Richard. “You won’t lure us into gambling on our first night at sea. That’s bad luck.”
“Is it?” Mr. Belvedere said. “Then never mind. I always pay attention to superstition because I fancy it’s the kind of thing that likes to take a man by surprise. If I look it in the eye, I figure it’ll give me the go by.”
“I don’t believe in luck or fortune,” said Mrs. Scott, discarding a four. “Things that will be shall be, and we make our own fortune within it, by our own choices.”
“That sounds very Methodist of you,” Richard said.
She laughed. “I am a good Anglican, sir, or I try to be. And now we are at the last hand; I believe my partner and I have got you.”
“We do,” Mr. Belvedere crowed. “A riposte! You are at our mercy.”
Caroline shook her head. “You are both very skilled players indeed, for Richard and I are not beginners. We shall have to have another match tomorrow.”
Caroline went to their cabin first, and her maid, Susan, helped her remove her muslin dress and shake it out. Then she unhooked Caroline’s slim petticoat—sleeveless, with a low neckline—down the back, followed by unlacing her short stays.In her chemise, Caroline took up the dressing gown Susan had laid out, while Susan poured a little water from a pitcher into a basin for Caroline to wash herself. Finally, Susan brushed and smoothed Caroline’s curls, which were recently cropped and quite wild after her time in the wind.
“Thank you very much, Susan. Just my muslin night cap—yes, that one. That’ll be all for tonight.” She paused. “Are your own accommodations adequate? Is everything well enough with you and—er—the other girl, Lady Marston’s maid?”
“Minnie, ma’am. And yes, we are well.” Susan was a slightly plump woman of perhaps thirty-five or forty years of age. She and Caroline were relatively unknown to one another, as Susan had only been with her since her marriage. Caroline did not quite have the measure of the maid yet, but the woman was competent and quiet, and Caroline did not ask for much more. It had been arranged that Susan would split her service between Caroline and Anne, since there was minimal space, and a minimal amount to be done on board. Minnie, the maid for the Marstons, would share the last cabin with Susan, since it had a double bed like this one.
“She’s—a bit of a silly young thing,” Susan added, “but there’s no harm in ‘er. I think the motion of the ship has taken her badly, though. She went to bed afore—before supper.”
“Oh, no. I hope she won’t be sick for long. How do you feel?”
“Mm, I don’t love the upness and downness, ma’am, but I wouldn’t think it my place to be sick.” Her lip suddenly curled. “However, them black beetles are another matter.”
