likely it is a typical blow and will be over without mishap."
They completed another circuit of the deck in silence, each lost in thought, and then Miss Farnham returned below to wash for supper.
* * * *
"This may be our last hot food for a while, lady and gentlemen."
Daphne looked up from her plate of boiled beef and questionable objects that might be root vegetables. The captain served himself a hearty portion, and the others followed suit. Except for Dr. Murray. She had noticed that about him. He was as spare in his table habits as in his attire and his conversation. He did not drink to excess, as some of the officers did, nor did he eat to where his clothes strained at the seams, as they did on Captain Franklin.
Did the man have any passions at all? Nothing that drove him to act foolishly or take risks? Daphne thought sometimes during the tedious days aboard ship that she would be willing to dance a hornpipe if it would produce for her a cup of chocolate. The very thought of the treat for which she lusted had water pooling in her mouth.
Oh well, at least it made the salt beef easier to chew.
"Do you not agreed, Miss Farnham?"
Daphne stopped chewing and swallowed, brought back to her surroundings by the question from Mr. Carr.
"I am so sorry, sir, but I was woolgathering and did not hear your question."
"Thinking of the beautiful shops awaiting you in London?"
Mr. Carr's question was innocent enough, but Daphne caught the doctor's eye at that moment and the sardonic expression on his face tempted her to say that she was thinking about passion and lust.
However, that would open up a hornet's nest given her past, and her current precarious and unchaperoned circumstances, so she refrained.
"La, Mr. Carr, what would a lady be thinking of if not fashion and the upcoming season? I fear my wardrobe will be sadly out of date by the time we dock, and I will exhaust myself replenishing it. It is all too fatiguing to dwell on, but I shall do what I must."
Daphne punctuated this by pushing her plate aside to take to Pompom, and pulled out her fan, for the air in the captain's cabin where they took their meals was close and heavy, hotter than usual even for the tropics. Daphne wished again for a ladies' maid or someone who would help her dress for dinner, because while her walking dress of merino cloth with its delightful lilac satin bands at the hem was a la mode , the high neck and lace ruff did not bare as much skin as the lightweight silk evening gown she would have worn for such a humid evening.
She'd managed to fasten a white satin bandeau to keep her hair from falling across her face and sticking to her skin, and wrapped her braid into a twist and pinned it atop her head, all by herself.
She feared though that if she moved her head quickly the entire mass would come undone and billow out in a disorderly mess. That would no doubt make old Dr. Murray raise one of his heavy eyebrows at her, using it in place of a sneer or a biting comment to illustrate how he felt about her general uselessness.
The man understood nothing about ladies and their lives. It took time and effort to arrange one's hair, to apply a bit of rose lip salve or brush a touch of pink on cheekbones just so, disguising that one was indeed wearing cosmetics. Being laced up, fastening garters, picking just the right chapeau, these were time-consuming tasks. And one did not do it once in the morning, oh no, there were separate outfits for riding and walking and morning calls and evenings in with family and evenings at the theater. He had no idea how many pairs of shoes and boots and slippers alone that took. It was a wonder she was not more exhausted at the end of each day!
Now, Mr. Carr appreciated her. He did not judge her, he admired her face and form. He never thought about whether she was useful.
But, Daphne had to admit, she found Dr. Murray's forthright disdain intriguing. He was one of the few men she'd met, of any age, who made no effort to
They completed another circuit of the deck in silence, each lost in thought, and then Miss Farnham returned below to wash for supper.
* * * *
"This may be our last hot food for a while, lady and gentlemen."
Daphne looked up from her plate of boiled beef and questionable objects that might be root vegetables. The captain served himself a hearty portion, and the others followed suit. Except for Dr. Murray. She had noticed that about him. He was as spare in his table habits as in his attire and his conversation. He did not drink to excess, as some of the officers did, nor did he eat to where his clothes strained at the seams, as they did on Captain Franklin.
Did the man have any passions at all? Nothing that drove him to act foolishly or take risks? Daphne thought sometimes during the tedious days aboard ship that she would be willing to dance a hornpipe if it would produce for her a cup of chocolate. The very thought of the treat for which she lusted had water pooling in her mouth.
Oh well, at least it made the salt beef easier to chew.
"Do you not agreed, Miss Farnham?"
Daphne stopped chewing and swallowed, brought back to her surroundings by the question from Mr. Carr.
"I am so sorry, sir, but I was woolgathering and did not hear your question."
"Thinking of the beautiful shops awaiting you in London?"
Mr. Carr's question was innocent enough, but Daphne caught the doctor's eye at that moment and the sardonic expression on his face tempted her to say that she was thinking about passion and lust.
However, that would open up a hornet's nest given her past, and her current precarious and unchaperoned circumstances, so she refrained.
"La, Mr. Carr, what would a lady be thinking of if not fashion and the upcoming season? I fear my wardrobe will be sadly out of date by the time we dock, and I will exhaust myself replenishing it. It is all too fatiguing to dwell on, but I shall do what I must."
Daphne punctuated this by pushing her plate aside to take to Pompom, and pulled out her fan, for the air in the captain's cabin where they took their meals was close and heavy, hotter than usual even for the tropics. Daphne wished again for a ladies' maid or someone who would help her dress for dinner, because while her walking dress of merino cloth with its delightful lilac satin bands at the hem was a la mode , the high neck and lace ruff did not bare as much skin as the lightweight silk evening gown she would have worn for such a humid evening.
She'd managed to fasten a white satin bandeau to keep her hair from falling across her face and sticking to her skin, and wrapped her braid into a twist and pinned it atop her head, all by herself.
She feared though that if she moved her head quickly the entire mass would come undone and billow out in a disorderly mess. That would no doubt make old Dr. Murray raise one of his heavy eyebrows at her, using it in place of a sneer or a biting comment to illustrate how he felt about her general uselessness.
The man understood nothing about ladies and their lives. It took time and effort to arrange one's hair, to apply a bit of rose lip salve or brush a touch of pink on cheekbones just so, disguising that one was indeed wearing cosmetics. Being laced up, fastening garters, picking just the right chapeau, these were time-consuming tasks. And one did not do it once in the morning, oh no, there were separate outfits for riding and walking and morning calls and evenings in with family and evenings at the theater. He had no idea how many pairs of shoes and boots and slippers alone that took. It was a wonder she was not more exhausted at the end of each day!
Now, Mr. Carr appreciated her. He did not judge her, he admired her face and form. He never thought about whether she was useful.
But, Daphne had to admit, she found Dr. Murray's forthright disdain intriguing. He was one of the few men she'd met, of any age, who made no effort to
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