Castaway Dreams (6 page)

"Thank you for not laughing at me, Dr. Murray."

She gave him that smile that made him feel slightly disoriented. No doubt it was only that so few people he encountered in the course of a day's work had any reason to smile at him.

After putting up his handkerchief and making a brief note in his journal regarding her visit, Alexander climbed back into his bunk. He couldn't say why he took his pillow, where her head had lain moments before, and brought it up to his nose.

Lavender. A soothing scent, calming for the nerves.

Which was, of course, the only reason why he fell asleep with his arms wrapped around his pillow.

The sun was low in the sky, under clouds looking like anvils poised to fall on the horizon. Alexander heard a familiar "yip" as he was spotted by Miss Farnham's little dog, straining at its leash to reach him. Recalled to his duty at the sight of his charge deep in conversation with Mr. Carr, Alexander walked over to where the couple chatted at the starboard rail.

"Oh, Dr. Murray!" Miss Farnham chirped, waving her free hand in the air. "Mr. Carr was admiring my ribbon, and I told him you gave it to me."

She wore a pale gold straw bonnet with an explosion of lavender roses and greenery, the braid snaking over her left shoulder, its end now tied off by the tri-colored braid Alexander used for his demonstration.

Carr leaned forward to pick up the ribboned end of the braid where it rested on Miss Farnham's bosom. A noise sounding suspiciously like a growl welled up from Alexander's chest, startling the younger man so much he took a step back.

It startled Alexander, too, who finished on a throat-clearing gesture.

"No doubt Mr. Carr has duties to see to, Miss Farnham, and little time for admiring your attire."

"Not at all, Dr. Murray," the mate said with a satisfied smile. He took Miss Farnham's hand gloved in rose-colored leather and placed it on his arm. "I am at liberty to stroll with Miss Farnham before supper."

He, too, looked at the clouds on the horizon and frowned.

"We may be in for a blow tonight or tomorrow, so it is good to take advantage of this opportunity while the weather is still fair."

"Perhaps Dr. Murray would care to join us as we walk around the deck?"

Carr looked dismayed, and Alexander was sure he had never met a young woman so ignorant of human behavior and motivations. She appeared completely oblivious to the mate's attempts to court her, but putting a spoke in the younger man's wheels was part of a chaperone's task. Alexander bowed in her direction and said, "I would be pleased to join you, Miss Farnham, and Mr. Carr."

"Mr. Carr, do you truly think the weather will change? Are we in danger?"

The deck was not wide enough for the three of them to easily walk abreast, so Alexander was to the rear and couldn't see their expressions. He knew he was not an expert sailor, but even he had been at sea long enough to recognize trouble signs. The thunderheads building to the southeast were like black boulders piling one atop the other. Remembering previous encounters with bad weather gave Alex an idea.

"Miss Farnham."

The couple ahead of him stopped walking and Miss Farnham turned to look over her shoulder, knocking Carr in the head with her oversized bonnet, which immediately started a chorus of apologies between the two of them.

Alexander stood with his hands behind his back, waiting for them to stop twittering like starlings.

"Tomorrow morning, Miss Farnham, report to sick bay after breakfast. You will roll bandages and help me organize my supplies. If we encounter rough weather then I can expect men to show up with sprains and contusions at the very least, and possibly more serious injuries."

"See here, Murray, you can't order Miss Farn--"

"Will that make me useful, Dr. Murray?"

She'd ignored the mate's protests and was looking at Alexander, her eyes reflecting the color of the late afternoon sky.

He watched her for a heartbeat before answering.

"You will be performing a useful task, Miss Farnham. It is not the same as being a useful person. But it is a beginning."

Carr still protested, but Alexander was not listening to him. He watching the play of expression on Miss Farnham's lovely face and found her small smile oddly unreadable. And challenging.

"Yes, Doctor, I will be in your sick bay after breakfast. To perform a useful task."

Carr glared at Alexander.

"You have no business ordering a passenger about, Murray!"

"Mr. Carr, do not scold poor Dr. Murray," Miss Farnham said, patting the man on the arm. "He cannot help himself, I am sure. After all, he has spent years and years ordering people to take their medications even when they taste unpleasant, or to suffer through some procedure which will improve their condition. Ordering people about is his nature."

Alexander was startled.

"Are you now my champion, Miss Farnham?"

"A man of your age and experience does not need me to champion him, Dr. Murray. But, Mr. Carr, do you truly believe the weather will turn rough? I would so hate for my poor little Pompom to be sick again."

Without another glance at Alexander she turned to her swain, who glared one last time in Alex's direction and then resumed strolling with her.

"We will know more as the night progresses, Miss Farnham. But do not worry your pretty little head over it. Captain Franklin and the crew are all experienced hands, and we will ride this out without difficulty."

A shiver ran down Miss Farnham's delicate spine and she clutched her escort's arm with one hand while the other kept a tight hold of her pup's leash as the dog sniffed at the chicken coop, setting up a squawking inside. After another glance behind to confirm Alexander was still following like an albatross, Carr resigned himself to simply strolling and not doing anything further that would advance his case with the attractive heiress.

Normally Alexander would have had at least a dozen other places he'd rather be, but this thwarting of Young Lochinvar entertained him, so he kept his countenance severe and his steps steady as he walked along.

Sadly for the younger man, he was called back to his duties and Miss Farnham and her dog were alone on deck. Alexander stepped up to her side.

"I would offer my arm as your escort, Miss Farnham, but two things occur to me. One is that you do not appear in any danger of falling down if you do not hold on to me. The other is that I risk becoming entangled in that animal's leash."

He did not think he had said anything to amuse, but those dimples that surely had other men tripping over their own feet without the danger of the dog's leash punctuated the smile flashing on her face.

"How very logical you are, Dr. Murray. By all means, do join me on my walk, but do not take any unnecessary risks. At your age a sprain or a broken bone is no small thing."

Was the chit
baiting
him? Alexander had not thought she possessed the intellectual skill or the intestinal fortitude to cross verbal swords with him. Of course, he was above such petty irritations, so he clasped his hands behind his back and strolled alongside her.

"Why rolling bandages?"

"I beg your pardon?"

"Why do you wish me to roll bandages for you?"

He looked at her, her face mostly shaded by the flowers flopping around her hat brim. It was an impractical piece of headgear, but when she turned her head and looked him full in the face it acted as a perfect frame for her features, making her eyes appear more amethyst than clear blue.

It was an interesting trick of the light and hues, nothing more.

"Bandages must be rolled to be ready for use. It is one of the constant tasks one finds in a surgery and if I must do it, it takes time away from more important tasks."

"Ah. So my time is less valuable than yours, Dr. Murray?"

He paused in his steps and looked at her.

"Are you prepared to argue that it is not less valuable, Miss Farnham?"

"I would lose, wouldn't I?"

He did not bother to dignify that with an answer.

"Since Mr. Carr was called away, what do you know about this weather, Doctor?"

He did not want to send her into a panic, but it was good to be prepared for any happenstance.

"Weather is a constant concern aboard ship, Miss Farnham. This is the storm season, and Captain Franklin must be especially vigilant."

"I have been through some strong storms in England."

"But you did not experience a hurricane in Jamaica, did you?"

She stopped and looked at him.

"Is that what is coming, Doctor?"

Now he had gone and done the very thing he said he would not do.

"I do not think so, Miss Farnham. I am not a sailor, but those storms are rare. More 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 charm her. His verbal provocations made her want to respond in kind. While their encounters too often left her feeling like she was lacking in some fashion, at least they made her feel alive and stimulated.

"Captain Franklin, why did you say this may be our last hot meal?"

Captain Franklin paused from lifting his overloaded fork to his mouth, looked at the food he wasn't about to chew with a moment of regret and answered her.

"We're in for rough weather, Miss Farnham. Nothing the
Magpie
cannot handle, but when we're tossing about, we can't risk a fire in the galley. As soon as we're past it, though, Cookie will put something on the boil for us, you can be sure."

"I will be ready for your men, Captain," Dr. Murray said.

"You are making me glad I brought you aboard as a passenger," Captain Franklin said with a genuine smile. He shoved his food into his mouth and spoke around it. "I wish I could carry a sawbones on every voyage, and save myself from the chore of tending the men."

Dr. Murray said nothing to this, carefully cutting his beef into small bites. Daphne had not thought about a voyage without a medical man. On her journey to Jamaica she'd been too busy dealing with the violently ill George. The ship's officers and crew were full of helpful advice, so she did not miss having a physician or surgeon about.

There was always a physician or surgeon available when she was growing up, whether in the country or the city. Her father's wealth guaranteed a fast response and her every need was attended to promptly and diligently. She paused, thinking about Dr. Murray as one of those men. She could not see him dropping everything and neglecting his other patients to leap at her father's commands, as she suspected Dr. Drummond did when called to treat Mr. Farnham's gout or Daphne's occasional childhood ailment.