The Admiral's Ward

by Dinah McLeod

  Reluctantly, she set the book down, careful to place it open face-down so that she would not lose her place.

  “I take it that you have been enjoying your book.”

  “It is quite fascinating,” she told him, eager to talk about it.

  “Might I join you?”

  Her brow furrowed for a moment at the unusual request, but she nodded. When he neared she saw that the tray contained two identical plates. “To what do I owe this pleasure?”

  “I need to escape my men,” he told her with a rueful laugh. “Even if only for a few minutes.”

  “I imagine it is quite rare to get invited to dine with the captain of the ship,” she continued. “I shall treasure this honor for the rest of my life.”

  “Ah, yes, on the island of Baasing,” he joined in on her teasing. “Tell me, do you know what you will do when you get there?”

  “I have no idea.” The words flew out of their own accord. Delia had been enjoying her reading so much that she had relaxed considerably and forgotten that she had to always be on her guard when the admiral was in the room. The moment she realized what she had said, her entire body stiffened and it seemed the air in her room thinned. Her heart pounded hard in her chest as she tried to think of how to undo what she had admitted to.

  “I suppose it will be a shock to your family to have you happen upon their doorstep,” he mused as he picked up the utensils on his tray. “You are quite certain they will take you in, yes?”

  “I... yes, of course,” she mumbled, ducking her head. The truth was, though she was frustrated with the amount of time the journey was taking every day, she was more acutely aware that she had no plan for what she would do when they reached Baasing. With every stretch of ocean they crossed she realized that what she had done had been childish and rash. Though she had no desire to return, she could not help but feel trepidation about what the future held.

  “Are you not hungry, my lady?”

  She was not, but she forced herself to pick up her utensils and at least push the food around on her plate.

  “Is something troubling you?” the admiral asked after a while.

  Delia turned her prettiest smile on him. “No. Of course not. I only... I wish to get back to my book.”

  He laughed, and she felt herself relax a little. “I see. Well, in a few moments I will be back to duties and you can return to fifteenth-century France.”

  She had thought that nothing could take away the appeal of the story she’d lost herself in, but now she found herself distracted by thoughts that were all too pressing.

  “What did you say your family name was again?”

  Delia froze. “Why... why do you ask?” she stammered.

  “I thought perhaps I might know your family in Baasing. I will see you to the door, of course.”

  “Oh... that is very kind, but... unnecessary.”

  “Nonsense. I have to make sure that you are delivered safely to your relatives.”

  She could think of nothing she could do, no way to dissuade him, so she smiled weakly. “That is... so thoughtful.”

  “Of course, I am happy to do it.”

  She could not help but squirm in disquiet, worried her lies would be seen on her face. She had found herself to be accomplished in the art of deception when it came to her parents, and on rare occasion, her governess—though she always found herself eventually confessing her misdeeds to Miss Ashley. But this captain... there was something about him, a je ne sais quoi, that she could not put into words.

  His intelligent eyes seemed to peer into the depths of her very soul and she had no doubt that if she gave him long enough, he would ferret out any untruth. And Delia could tell somehow just by looking at his strong, noble features—the hard jaw, the set to his full, red lips, the determined ridge of his brow—he would not take kindly to being misled. She couldn’t say how she knew, only that she felt it, in the nervous flutter down in the pit of her belly and the way her pulse picked up in his presence.

  I would do well to avoid long conversations with this man. And yet, even as she desired to return to the story that so captivated her attention, she found that she wasn’t ready for him to leave, either. He had her acting most peculiarly—thinking one thing while doing another.

  “Did you always want to captain a ship?” she found herself asking.

  Those full lips she’d been admiring only moments ago softened into a smile. “Yes, ever since I was a young child.”

  Delia found herself returning his smile, for it was hard to imagine the rigid, authoritative man in front of her as a child, much less one with dreams of the future. “Truly?”

  “Oh, yes. My father bought me a sailboat when I was quite little and we would go to the pond every chance we got to set it on the water.”

  “I cannot imagine my own father doing that,” she said, the words slipping out of their own accord. She felt her cheeks heat with embarrassment of having shared something so personal, as well as how wistful they had sounded aloud to her own ears.

  But the admiral, rather than being scandalized by her boldness, responded with gentleness that surprised her. “It was only because I was such a handful for my nanny and my tutors,” he confided, a twinkle in his eye.

  “No, I cannot imagine such a thing!”

  “Oh, yes, I’m afraid it’s true. I was irrepressible as a boy, running the halls, frightening the servants at any opportunity.” He chuckled at the memory and Delia found herself delighted by the sound. “My mother feared I would never grow into someone suitable for decent society. So my father took it upon himself to straighten me out with long walks, and we would talk about sailing. It was a pastime for him, you see, but eventually I wanted to speak of nothing else. So he bought me books, like the one you’re so fond of.” He winked. “Only they were on seafaring voyages and the inner workings of naval vessels. I’m afraid I never wanted to do anything else.”

  “Your mother was surely quite relieved.”

  He pulled a face that made her laugh. “Oh, I daresay! After all, my father was quick to explain that you cannot captain a ship without discipline. Right he was, too.”

  “And you enjoy it?” she prodded. Delia was finding it hard to believe that anyone could live a life other than tedious luxury and relish it as the captain seemed to, but then again, hadn’t she so often found herself wondering what more there was to life?

  “Very much.” Despite the seriousness in his features, she could see the glow of happiness and purpose in his expression.

  “I cannot help but envy you such clear direction,” she found herself remarking. “You are young to already be an admiral, if you don’t mind me saying. What is next for you?”

  “Only time can tell, my lady. Now, though I have enjoyed our conversation very much, I fear I must take my leave. Enjoy your book, my lady. I suspect you will have finished it by dinnertime.”

  As soon as the door closed behind him, she returned to her book. She was sprawled across the bed, nearly back on an adventure with her new friends, when she heard a loud commotion outside the door. Delia’s head raised and her ears strained. What was that?

  The sound of faraway voices reached her ears and she eagerly swung her legs over the bed and stealthily moved toward the sound, pressing her ear to the door.

  “I tell you, Eric, you’ve quite lost it, Mate. There ain’t a soul down here but the church mice, searchin’ for a scrap o’supper.”

  “Which they won’t find, seein’ as the captain makes us clean every nook and cranny like common housewives.” They chuckled together. “But I’m tellin’ ya, I heard somethin’ down this way earlier.”

  Delia’s brows rose. They had heard her? When? What had she been doing?

  “Must’a been hearin’ things again, Eric. I tell ya, lad, you really ought to swing by the doctor’s quarters with these invisible—”

  Almost before she knew what she was doing, Delia was throwing the door open. She just had to see what these colorful-sounding character
s looked like in person, and if the admiral had his way, she wouldn’t be seeing another soul until they made port in Baasing.

  The men stopped short in their conversation, blinking at her.

  She dropped her eyes, but quickly raised them once more for a second look. Both men were as colorful in person as they had sounded and she could hardly believe it.

  “Told you,” one muttered.

  “My lady, you are a welcome sight.”

  Delia raised her head once more and took in the speaker. He was tall—not as tall as the admiral, but still, he towered over her own 5’4—with long, dark braids that went down his back. Colorful beads were woven into them, and a vibrant purple headwrap peaked through his large black hat. His olive face was rugged, handsome in its way, and when he smiled, silver glinted at her.

  With a flourish, he bowed before her and then reached out a hand.

  Delia hesitated but a moment before offering him her own.

  Gallantly, he dipped his head over her hand and kissed it before looking up at her with a twinkle in his dark eyes.

  She snatched it back, blushing, but he rose elegantly, seeming so unruffled she had to wonder if he had even noticed her reaction.

  “Name’s Barnabee, m’lady, at your service.”

  His companion cleared his throat.

  “Ah, and this here is Eric,” he said, waving an airy hand in the other man’s direction.

  Eric made a grumpy face at being summarily dismissed which made Delia throw back her head and laugh.

  “Ah, has my companion amused you, m’lady?” Barnabee’s eyes sparkled at her in shared mirth.

  She carefully schooled her expression, though she could still feel the corners of her lips twitching. “No, of course not. I am delighted to meet you as well, Eric.” She bobbed a curtsey.

  “Pleased to meet you, my lady.”

  “Delia McDowe,” she told him.

  “Well, now that we’re all acquainted, mind telling us how it came to be that you found yourself aboard this ship?”

  She hesitated. The captain had warned her that the men wouldn’t like the idea of a woman being aboard. Then again, these two were obviously sailors and didn’t seem to mind her in the least. Rather, they looked quite taken with her, and she couldn’t deny that it was a welcome change after the admiral’s often stern company.

  “You can confide in us, Ms. McDowe,” Barnabee said, while Eric vigorously nodded his agreement.

  She pulled a face. “Please, don’t call me that.”

  He nodded. “As you wish, M’lady.”

  Relaxing, Delia threw caution to the wind, quite forgetting what happens to those that disobey the admiral, and told them. By the end, she had them laughing at the idea of her playing both guest and prisoner aboard the Victoria.

  “That is a delightful tale.” Barnabee chuckled. “I can’t imagine a worldly woman such as yourself bein’ entertained with nothing but the company of dusty old books.”

  She nodded fervently, forgetting that only an hour ago such company had sufficed well indeed.

  “Well, we best be gettin’ back or we’ll be missed,” Barnabee said.

  On impulse, she stepped forward, hands clasped in eagerness. “Will you visit when you can?”

  “Oh, I don’t think the captain—”

  Barnabee smacked his friend in the chest, and the rest of Eric’s protest was replaced with a grunt. “I shall, m’lady. You have my word.”

  Glowing, Delia thanked him, gave a curtsey, and returned to her room. She found she was too excited by this chance meeting and new friendship to sit still and began to pace the floor, thinking of when she might see him again.

  * * *

  Delia was happy enough to see the admiral when he came bearing a dinner tray, but her conversation with Barnabee had given her cause to look at him with fresh eyes. She had thought him stern, yes, but also gallant for what he’d done by offering her a place aboard his ship. But had she been too quick to trust him?

  “I’m afraid I cannot join you this evening,” he told her, regret evident in his voice.

  “Oh?”

  “I’m expected on the top deck, and if my men don’t see me... well, they’ll need to know why, and I don’t wish to tell them any falsehoods.”

  She grabbed onto that eagerly. “You needn’t. Why don’t I join you?”

  His brow furrowed. “While that sounds lovely, I have already explained the reason you must stay here.”

  Delia uttered a little laugh. “Yes, I quite recall, but perhaps your notion was... misguided.”

  “I do not take your meaning, madam.”

  “Oh, only that, perhaps it is merely an old superstition, perhaps the men would actually be glad—”

  His rebuttal was swift and stern. “No, my lady, it is not merely. It is as I said. Many believe it is bad luck to have a lady aboard—indeed, some of my men probably would never sail with me again if they learned of your presence aboard this vessel. We made an agreement before you boarded. Now, perhaps I was wrong to trust you?”

  “No, of course not,” she rushed to assure him.

  He did not seem entirely convinced, but nonetheless bowed his way out of the room.

  Sighing and thinking herself quite foolish for having brought it up at all, Delia lifted the silver dome atop her dinner plate. The piece of chicken with colorful roasted vegetables covered with a glistening gravy should have made her mouth water. Instead, she replaced the cover almost at once, sighing once more.

  She had been content until she had met Barnabee and Eric. Perhaps she should never have opened the door because now she would no longer be able to while away the hours reading and enjoying solitary meals.

  Perhaps I shouldn’t have left home. Mother was right... I would have had a nice life as a duchess. The company of the duke might be boring, but it would have been better than no company at all.

  Just as she turned back to her book—feeling more sulky about the prospect than she had before—there was a soft knock on the door.

  Delia’s ears perked up. Had she imagined it? Or had—

  Just then, it sounded again—three quick, quiet raps.

  She rushed to answer it. Perhaps the admiral had changed his mind after all. Perhaps—

  But when she threw it open, it was Barnabee’s face she saw. His lips quirked into a smile at the very sight of her, and she couldn’t help but smile back.

  “Good evening, m’lady.”

  “Barnabee.” She cleared her throat lest she sound too eager. “Hello.”

  “I cannot stay long, but I have something for you.”

  “For me?” She didn’t succeed in not sounding eager, but she no longer cared. A present was exciting, after all.

  He held up a bundle tied with a bit of string.

  She frowned at it, puzzled and a tad bit repelled by the smell of mothballs.

  “It is a ship uniform,” he explained, chuckling at her expression.

  Delia flushed at being the source of his amusement. “Why ever would you bring me such a thing?”

  Barnabee’s smile was patient. “I thought perhaps it would help you to have a real adventure.”

  She gave him a searching look, and followed his gaze as he nodded toward the open book on her bed. When she turned back to him, it was with a new appreciation. For the first time since stepping onboard this vessel—the first time since she’d bid Miss Ashley farewell—she felt someone saw her, and truly understood her.

  “Be certain to hide it well, m’lady. You wouldn’t want the captain to find such a thing.” He gave a little shudder and she hugged the bundle to her chest.

  “I suppose not.”

  “Oh, it would not be good for either of us, you can be sure o’that. Would be the end of my career if he ever found out.”

  Delia took in his serious expression and nodded. “Yes, of course. And Barnabee...” She searched for the words to properly thank him, but before she could find them, he tipped her a wink and did an about-face. She
slid back into the room, shutting the door softly behind her, already looking for the best hiding place.

  Once she had it stowed away, she tried to return to her book, but her eyes couldn’t seem to make sense of the words on the page. There was a new energy in the room now, and she found herself vibrating with it. Surely the admiral would notice when he next visited.

  Or perhaps he wouldn’t. He clearly wanted her to believe that he could discern all, but that wasn’t possible...was it?

  It better not be, or the consequences will be severe.

  As soon as the thought came to her, her bottom cheeks clenched, and she thought about the look on Barnabee’s face as he’d beseeched her to hide it well.

  Perhaps it would be best to stay put, as the admiral had instructed. After all, she got plenty to eat, and occasional company. Sure, it was a tad boring, but she had her book to keep her company.

  Delia tried for a moment more to return to the story, but her eyes jumped around the page with nervous energy. With a sigh, she cast it aside. Before Barnabee’s delivery it had been enough to capture her interest, but now that she had the option of escape, she had to wonder if it ever would again.

  * * *

  The next morning, Delia found herself awake and dressed long before the admiral brought her breakfast tray. Try as she might, she had not been able to do much more than toss and turn the night before. Not only was the hidden uniform a source of anxiety, but she found that her mind kept returning to her conversation with the admiral the day before. He had only been making casual conversation, she knew, but had unintentionally brought to the forefront everything she had been keeping herself from thinking about.

  The more she tried to push it aside the more pressing the questions became, so she forced herself to heed them. What would happen when this ship reached its destination? The thought nauseated her, for she was no closer to answering it than she had been when it first came to her. It resounded in her head, pounding, demanding she answer.

  Worry had her pacing the floor until she felt sure she would wear a trail into the wood. What was she going to do? She had no other family to speak of, none that she knew of, anyway. Without question, running away had been a silly thing for her to do, but had it been more than that? The more she thought about it the more she began to wonder if it would be disastrous. How would she earn money? How would she find a place to live? How would she eat when she did?