18. Isla #3
His wife’s regard cut through Robert’s initial shock.
Schooling his features, he made an effort to appear as though he were a man of the world.
“I’m aware that societal expectations become blurred at sea, Captain, and since My Lady wife isn’t offended, then I’ll suspend judgment, as well.
I do caution you not to speak of such things when we’re back in Fachan’s Bay, however, as it would lower your standing in the community and would land Ilona and her wife in prison should they step foot on land. ”
The relieved smile Jonto turned on the couple spoke volumes. “We’re aware of that, Robert, but thank you for your concern and understanding.” He turned to Isla. “And you, Lady Brighton?”
Isla’s cheeks pinked when Ilona turned her steady gaze on her. With a quick glance at Robert, Isla tucked her chin as though she expected his censure. “I find their relationship quite refreshing, My Lord.”
Robert cleared his throat. “I wouldn’t go that far, my dear.
On another note, Jonto, you mentioned we’d all be dining together.
We aren’t used to such familiarity, and I believe it’s entirely inappropriate for the servants to dine with us…
.” Although he was taking all the changes to his typical routine better than Isla expected, eating with the servants, specifically Lily and Ilona, landed far outside what he considered acceptable interactions with the lower classes.
“I misspoke, Robert. Lily and Ilona will serve us in the wardroom and take their meals in the officer’s mess once their duties are complete. Miss Smythson will dine with us, however.”
Robert inclined his head toward Celie, “Of course. As Lady Brighton’s companion, her presence at our table will be more than acceptable.”
The relief on his face was comical, and Isla bit her bottom lip to keep from smiling and gently laid her hand on his arm.
“Robert, I believe we can forego that level of propriety while on board. You’ve known me as Isla since we were small children, and I’m sure calling me by my forename in place of Lady Brighton in no way diminishes my respectability in Captain Jonto’s eyes. ”
She was relieved to see amusement behind Robert’s stern fa?ade, but his lack of response told her he was taking his duties as chaperone very seriously, indeed.
Not only would Isla’s honor be upheld throughout their journey, but apparently, her standing as a member of the nobility would be protected as well.
It was Lily who broke the silence. “Would you like me to unpack your belongings, Lady Brighton?”
Isla sighed. She’d hoped to live this adventure as, perhaps not one of the crew, but at least as the carefree spirit she’d conjured in her imaginary adventures.
Now, not only was Robert putting her on some elitist pedestal, but Lily, who’d called her by her first name in private settings for years, was calling her Lady Brighton right along with him.
It was the mischief smiling behind Lily’s bright blue eyes that told her that her maid was tweaking her nose in a way Robert wouldn’t understand.
Relief and gratitude washed over her as she glanced at Celie. Her friend had turned her back to them, no doubt to hide her smile at Lily’s gentle mocking of Robert’s stiff adherence to protocol.
Robert and Priscilla had also turned away to stare out over the waves, the former seemingly satisfied that he’d gotten his point across.
Jonto, however, stood with his hands behind his back, quietly watching the scene play out.
With a wink at Lily—the nerve of the man—he bowed to Isla.
“While I wouldn’t presume to tell you what to do, perhaps this would be an excellent time to settle in.
If you’d care to meet again in an hour, you might enjoy a short stroll on the deck.
I doubt I’ll be free to take you on a tour today, but perhaps tomorrow?
And, for all of the women in the party, my sister used to wear my breeches while on board a sailing ship.
It’s much easier to move around and…” he held up his finger when Robert turned to protest, “…and much safer.”
Priscilla must have recognized the naked hope in Isla’s eyes because she placed a hand on Robert’s back. “The Archduchess entrusted us to bring Isla back safely, my dear, and if a man with as much sailing experience as Captain Jonto suggests it would be safer to wear breeches, who are we to argue?”
Isla could have kissed her friend. In all her dreams, she wore breeches and a blouse, unfettered from the horrible inconvenience of dealing with those blasted skirts and gowns.
This might very well be her only opportunity to dress in unconventional clothing, far away from the judgmental, ever-watchful eyes of the gentry and the aristocracy.
After opening his mouth several times to speak, Robert finally settled on, “But you didn’t pack breeches, and I’d venture to guess that Lady Brighton didn’t either.”
Jonto shrugged. “That’s not a problem. We have plenty we can loan them in ship’s stores. If I could just get a count as to which of you would like to wear breeches, I’ll have Babette bring them to your cabins.”
If Robert thought he was in charge of all the ladies on the voyage, Isla intended to divest him of that idea right from the start. “I’ll take a pair, please.”
Celie and Lily both accepted the offer, with Celie giving a hearty, “I will, too.”
Lily simply nodded.
“I’ll have Babette deliver three pairs then. The way Babette’s brain works, I’m willing to bet she’s already memorized your sizes.”
Priscilla lifted her chin and proclaimed, “Make that four, Lord Jonto.” Robert stiffened, and Pris held up her hand. “I refuse to be blown overboard by a gust of wind up my skirts simply to satisfy your notions of propriety, Robert.”
With a nod, Jonto added, “Not to mention wide-skirted dresses pull people down below the waterline faster than if they were wearing breeches, so if Priscilla does, by chance, fall overboard, if she’s in breeches, we’ll have more time to rescue her.
The sea is a greedy mistress, as I, above all people, should know. ”
Robert’s irritated tone told them what he thought of his wife wearing breeches. “I understand that you lost your twin sister overboard,” he belatedly added, “and for that, I’m truly sorry, but I’ve been on many sailing ships where ladies wore proper dresses and skirts.”
Seeing him glance at Ilona’s tight-fitting pants, Jonto hurried to assure him what types of breeches they had in stores. “What we have in the stores are looser breeches that allow for ease of movement.”
Robert didn’t seem convinced, so Jonto addressed the nobleman’s earlier comment.
“In the ten years I’ve been sailing, I’ve spoken to quite a few captains who regretted allowing ladies to wear their bulky clothing.
Several had women drown during a voyage.
One woman had her skirts blown up into her face.
She stumbled around on deck and fell over the gunwale before anyone could get to her.
With that being said, it’s, of course, up to you and Lady Priscilla to decide. So, three or four sets of breeches?”
Priscilla glared at her husband, who lifted a shoulder in defeat. She decisively repeated, “Four.”
The crew were going about their everyday tasks, setting and adjusting sails, cleaning and polishing rails and decks, and keeping lookout from high up in the crow’s nest. Jonto tilted his head back, put a hand to the side of his mouth, and bellowed, “Alpia!”
From near the top of the tallest spar, a tiny voice answered, “Soir?”
“Down from the nest!”
All the ladies gasped when a small figure climbed from the crow’s nest—a circular enclosed wooden structure attached to the mizzen mast—grabbed onto the rigging and descended by maneuvering across ropes and occasionally using rope ladders at various intervals.
Hearing their reactions, Jonto shrugged, “She’s a little monkey.
We tried keeping her out of the nest when she first came on board last year, and the little scamp took to sneaking out at night and climbing up.
She shocked the night watch enough times when she hopped into the crow’s nest with them that they came to me and said that if she insisted on learning to climb the rigging, she’d be better off learning in the daytime under the watchful eyes of experienced sailors instead of at night when minimal crew is about. ”
Alpia jumped the last few feet, landing on the deck with barely a sound. She hurried up to the quarter deck and stood looking up at Jonto expectantly. “Soir?”
“Run tell Babette to gather breeches for all of these ladies.” Alpia took off at a run, and Jonto lunged and grabbed the back of her loose-fitting smock. “Wait.” He growled and rolled his eyes at the imp’s unbridled enthusiasm. “You wait to be dismissed when given an order.”
Alpia ran her sleeve beneath her nose. “So, just t’ be sure, if ya orders me t’ save a lady from fallin’ overboard and her arms are wheelin’ an’ she’s about to go over, ya want me t’ sit an’ pick me nose ‘till ya tell me I’m dismissed?”
This little scamp reminded Isla of Perrin, and she politely covered her mouth and turned her short bark of laughter into a cough. The stiffening of Jonto’s shoulders when he glared at her had her turning away to keep from laughing out loud.
Choosing to ignore Alpia’s impertinence for the moment, he pulled in a calming breath.
Trying but failing to sound genial despite his irritation, he asked, “Does anyone need tunics or blouses?” Everyone shook their heads, and he added, “You might consider borrowing at least one smock if you want to experience life on board a sailing vessel.”
Robert growled, glanced up at the sky, and turned away so he wouldn’t have to see the ladies’ eager faces.
It was Celie who asked, “What types of experiences?”