Chapter 9 #2
“Well, you aren’t missing that side of him. He’s a right git sometimes.” Mr. Ashby smiled teasingly. He must have picked up on my change in mood, because his tone became gentle. “Is it necessary that we know every facet of a person to love them?”
The conversation was getting ahead of me, and I didn’t wish to dive too deeply into my feelings about Graham. Mr. Ashby needn’t worry about that. It was an easy decision to spin my meaning.
I smiled drolly at him. “As insightful as that sounds, you miss my point.”
“That you’ll never know him as well as I do?” He feigned arrogance.
It had become easy to play along with his sardonic nature.
“Certainly not. As his wife, I shall know him a mite better than anyone. I meant that you know sides of Graham that he doesn’t show to me, and for good reason.
When he is with me, he shows only his best sides.
And it is those sides I cherish and love.
I need not be concerned about who he is with you.
” I sent him a smug smile, though my heart squeezed with uncertainty.
“Do you truly believe Graham will be on his best behavior around you forever?” Mr. Ashby seemed utterly riveted to our conversation.
I lifted my chin. “Of course. Because when you are in love, you bring out the best in each other.” My smirk made him laugh.
He sat back, crossing his arms. “So Graham brings out the best in you, does he?”
“I am always at my best. No influence required,” I responded, pulling up one shoulder.
He lifted a corner of his mouth. “No one could possibly influence you to act in opposition to your character, no doubt.”
“Many have tried, few have succeeded,” Patrice offered helpfully.
I responded with a gloating smile and raised my mug before taking a sip.
“I’ve heard something similar once or twice,” Mr. Ashby murmured.
I placed my mug down with an indelicate thud. “Tell me,” I ordered. “I must know what he’s said about me.”
His laugh was triumphant, as if he had hoped I’d ask. “I recall a story of a girl who was absolutely convinced she could jump across a stream. And in a dress, no less,” Mr. Ashby said.
I grinned at the memory that came flashing back. “I would be so interested to hear his version of the story.”
“You landed right in the middle of the water, not even close to the other bank. It was springtime, and the stream was unusually high. Graham said he and your brother both jumped in after you, worried you would be swept away. Only, once they followed you, you’d already gotten out.
Graham said he nearly drowned.” Mr. Ashby had leaned forward, his eyes never leaving mine.
I couldn’t hide the glee I felt at hearing that story.
“If not for Cameron, he would have.” I looked away from Mr. Ashby as my mind began to wander.
Back then, I’d seen Graham as a brother.
Considering he was Cameron’s friend, it was perfectly natural I’d feel that way.
Until one summer, he seemed entirely different.
No longer a brother-figure, but a young man whom I saw with new eyes.
“That was about three years before I fell in love with him,” I said to no one specific.
“In those three years, he lost his father, I believe.”
I nodded, frowning. “He was so altered after his father passed. He brought his mother with him, too, and she was a ghost of her former self. He had become a man, and suddenly I was a woman who noticed.”
“He said his first thought of anything romantic toward you was the summer you turned sixteen. That you had grown taller and you spoke with a maturity he hadn’t noticed before.
He was impressed by your mind, and also by your beauty.
” Mr. Ashby smiled softly. “He had a picture of you in his pocket watch. You were truly a beauty.”
I raised an eyebrow. “I’ll ignore the fact that you are complimenting my portrait from six years ago, and not my current appearance.” I laughed inwardly at his wide-eyed expression; it was exactly the reaction I hoped for.
Before he could respond, I raised one shoulder and moved on. “It was the only likeness I had when he left for the West Indies.” Then a thought occurred to me that made me laugh. “Did he parade my likeness around, bragging about his beautiful wife-to-be?”
He let out a single laugh. “No. I was, unfortunately, the sole recipient of his bragging.” I saw a fleeting emotion in his eyes—one I couldn’t name—before he abruptly looked away.
When he returned his gaze to me, he smiled, but the tightness around his eyes left me wondering about his true thoughts.
“Tomorrow, I thought I would teach you both how to load your pistols after your lesson with Tallow.” He stood.
“It’s getting late. Let me walk you to your cabin. ”
When we reached the women’s cabin, Mr. Ashby left us. Patrice and I collapsed onto our bunks and sighed. It had been a long week, and there were many more to come. I hoped my apprenticeship with Tallow would allow more time in the sun than bookkeeping.
“Are ye pleased with learnin’ navigating, Miss?” Patrice asked as we lay on our backs.
“I find myself very interested in the idea of being able to decipher a sextant and find my way across the seas.” I turned to my side to look at her, and she did the same. “Do you think…” I shook my head. “No,” I concluded as I flipped onto my back again.
“What?”
I sighed and decided to speak anyway. “Do you think Graham would use me as a navigator if I mastered the skills from Tallow?” I flipped onto my belly and lifted up onto my elbows. “Perhaps he would take me along on his voyages if I were useful to his business.”
Patrice answered as I pulled my hands under my chin to watch her.
“I dinnae think he kept ye from the sea because he thought ye werenae useful to him.”
“Then why? To protect me?” I let out a frustrated groan. “But naval officers take their wives with them!”
“I reckon the navy is different from merchant ships, Miss.” Patrice lifted a shoulder. “Did ye ever tell him ye wanted to go with him?”
I sighed. Curse her logical questions, ones I should have considered all those years ago. “No, I never said anything directly. There may’ve been an underhanded remark about wishing to be with him during his voyages.”
“That’s not like ye. Usually, ye are verra straightforward.” I saw Patrice’s furrowed brow and knew she had every reason to be confused by my behavior.
I shook my head, looking down in thought. Her question echoed. Why hadn’t I asked him to take me with him? Why wouldn’t I have fought for something I wanted? Then an epiphany added clarity to my troubled mind and I looked at Patrice, admitting something I never had before.
“Perhaps…” I paused. “Perhaps I did not know what I truly wanted.”
Mr. Ashby sat in one of the chairs around the small table in our cabin. I set out the box of pistols and opened it to reveal the weapons for him. He picked one up and looked it over, then set it down and opened one of the two separate compartments of the box.
“This is where the balls are kept.” He opened it and pulled out a small lead ball, then put it back and opened the second compartment.
“This is the powder.” A third compartment was not covered and contained a metal rod almost the same length as the pistols.
“This is the key to unscrew the barrels so you can load it.”
I watched, trying to figure out the process before he explained. I wanted to take it from him and try it on my own, but I sat patiently and let him continue. He showed us how to unscrew each barrel, then demonstrated how to load as he explained each step.
“Now, once your gun is loaded, you can cock it and keep the safety on until you are ready to shoot. It should stay in place even if you put it in your pocket or under your pillow. I would check it occasionally to make sure it is still locked so it doesn’t accidentally go off.
” He set down the loaded pistol and we all looked at it.
Then he met my eyes. “Would you like to practice?”
I nodded quickly, and we went to the top deck to fire off the pistols.
Mr. Ashby had placed bottles on the gunwale to test our aim.
We had limited balls, so we could only fire twice in order to save them, but both Patrice and I had the chance to load and shoot our guns.
I hit two bottles, grinning at my success.
Patrice needed a bit more instruction than I did, but by the end we both felt fairly confident.
I tucked the pistol into my dress pocket and smiled at Mr. Ashby. “Thank you for these. You probably don’t know what it means to me.”
He raised an eyebrow. “What does it mean?”
“That I am capable of deciding my own fate.”
“You’ve always been capable,” he said with surety.
I focused on him seriously. “Thank you. For believing in me.”
He didn’t say anything to that, only looked at me with a sincerity that made my heart swell. There was something about the way Mr. Ashby looked at me sometimes…. It made me feel confident.
He seemed like the type of person I could trust entirely, with my thoughts and fears and vulnerabilities without being looked down on.
I more than enjoyed his company; I looked forward to it each day.
It took me by surprise, at first, to feel such excitement around him.
But I reminded myself that getting to know a new friend was thrilling.
Meeting Melody, for instance, had been a monumental experience.
I didn’t meet new people very often. Surely one connected with each new friend in a unique way.
This blossoming friendship with Mr. Ashby was entirely foreign to me, so I would take each day as it came and not think too deeply about it.