Dear Future Husband

9. Do Not Be Jealous

10 March 1889

Dear future husband,

I have such exciting news to share with you! My father has taken us on a voyage to the Orient, with only Miss Wilson and my maid, Deirdre, accompanying us. Not only that, but I have made a new friend. Well, two new friends, if one counts Minerva, the Pekingese that Father purchased for me last week as a birthday gift. She is obediently sitting next to me, whining mournfully every few seconds because I have yet to take her for a walk. However, I am certain she is not well-liked on the ship after tearing up a woman's large, feathery hat and also, Erm, when we were in the cargo hold, she may have done her business in another woman's hatbox. Or perhaps it was the same woman's hatbox. I am not quite sure.

As well, Minerva managed to irritate the ship's purser-whose mouth, I must say, is constantly pursed, so he really does have a fitting title even if Papa informs me that my definition is not accurate-by nearly clawing out the eyes of a Captain something-or-other. Which brings me back to my point! I have made a new friend. My new friend is named Maximilian Walker, and he is a stowaway. Well, not by choice. He told me all about it, really, the evil plots of the vile Edgar, who is the brother of Gideon, the man to whom he is apprenticed. Edgar really is such an unfortunate name, is it not? It seems all men named Edgar are doomed for a life of villainy! At least in the novels I read, they are.

Anyways, Maximilian is a stowaway because he had to escape the press-gangs that Edgar was going to sell him to, and the captain of the ship that he was bound to is Captain something-or-other. We have become very good friends, and he says I sometimes remind him of someone named Daisy which I was pleased to hear until he told me it was Gideon's young daughter. I am thirteen, not two years old. Please do not be jealous of Maximilian. Truly, I do view him as an older brother. He is a few months shy of fifteen and thus, he is far too old for me to marry. Anyways, Minerva has decided to shred up some papers in my cabin, so I must go and scold her and take her for a promenade. Until later!

The RMS Etruria was almost as luxurious as the rooms in Grenledge Manor. Her room had ornately carved furniture, like the chair that Rosalie sat in now, which was done in the rococo style with curlicues and cherubim. Heavy velvet curtains were pushed aside to allow the windows to let in light. Still, it was neither home nor a grand adventure; it only seemed the prelude to one. And so, she needed to go for a walk.

"Come here, Minnie," Rosalie said, affixing the leather leash to her dog's engraved collar, which bore her name and had an adorable golden bell attached to it, its jangle announcing their presence for everyone to hear. Neither Rosalie nor Minnie liked the bell, but her father insisted it would keep them out of trouble. By trouble Rosalie supposed Papa meant that it would keep them from being places where they weren't supposed to be because people would hear them. "Let us go for a stroll."

In her forest-green walking-dress, Rosalie pushed open her cabin door and made her way above decks, Miss Wilson trailing not far behind. "Rosalie, did you bring your parasol? It is very important for a young woman to protect her skin from the sun!"

"Yes, Miss Wilson." Rosalie held the parasol, a ridiculously lacy affair, in her left hand, while her right clutched the dog's leash.

Since she was still a puppy, Minnie liked to squirm against the collar and leash, fighting to get free and nip at passerby's ankles. Rosalie and Minnie would eventually have to leave Miss Wilson behind to go find where Maximilian was hiding now. He hadn't made one secure hideout for himself in the cargo hold-where any mess might have been attributed to Minnie's incident there-but he liked to go between different locations of the ship. She wondered where he was hiding now. Sometimes, she thought the nomadic adventures of his life would be nice. At other times she was grateful that she was able to return to the loving embrace and secure stability that her father provided for her.

Breathing in a deep inhale of the salty sea air, she stared out at the open expanse of sea. Somewhere nearby was Africa. Miss Wilson had shown her an atlas that detailed their journey, explaining that by sea, going from London to Hong Kong meant that they had to go around and under the horn of Africa before going back up to Asia. It would take nearly two months for the ship to reach its destination. That didn't bother her much; it was a welcome respite from the same old walls, gardens, and paths of Grenledge.

Rosalie stood in silence, leaning against the ship's railing-but not too close, lest Miss Wilson's warnings about safety reach her ears and puncture her peace-as the world went by, inch by inch. The ship was never silent, anyways. There was always the crashing of waves against the hull, the squawk of seagulls circling far above them, and the chatter of the passengers or the bustling around of the crew. With a yelp, Rosalie dropped Minnie's leash momentarily to clutch her hat as a strong gust of wind threatened to blow it away.

The dog seized that opportunity to scramble away and, bursting into laughter, Rosalie darted after her before she saw the puppy stop, sniffing the ground intently. Her heart rose in her chest at the sight of a familiar lanky frame topped by a cap of black curls. Maximilian Walker crouched down to pet Minerva, his face earnest but guarded as he spoke to her softly. His words were drowned out by the strong gusts of wind that buffeted the smoke of the steamship, letting it dissipate into the damp sea air.

"Fancy seeing you here, Miss Winthrop," Maximilian said when she reached him. "I believe this pet is yours?"

She accepted the leash from him gratefully, mindful of the eyes that might have been watching them. "Thank you, Mr. Walker."

For a moment, they stood without speaking, both of them turning to face the ocean. She snuck looks at him, at the fine bones of his face, the way his dark hair curled behind one ear, the slightly rumpled clothing he wore that had been disheveled from his days of stowing away on the Etruria. Rosalie would sneak him food at mealtimes, but he needed a comb and a bath. Blushing, she pivoted to stare at Minnie, who was now tuckered out and curling up at Rosalie's feet, but kept one ear up and alert.

"There you are, Rosalie!" Miss Wilson's slightly out of breath voice reached her ears and Rosalie turned quickly on her heel. Too quickly, because she nearly fell and Maximilian extended a hand to catch her. She inhaled sharply, trying to figure out if it was from the pressure of his hand around hers or the adrenaline that coursed through her. Max dropped his hand before Miss Wilson could notice, but Rosalie could not tell if she was grateful or upset about the loss. "I even had to summon your father and tell him I had lost you."

"I was taking Minnie for a walk-well, really, I was chasing her," she said. With a sudden spark of inspiration, she added, "I was worried she might fall off the ship. Luckily, this young gentleman found her for me."

Miss Wilson readily appraised him, her keen eye taking in the less-than-wealthy clothing and lack of a hat. "Well, thank you, young man. Your name is...?"

Looking startled, his eyes widening, he replied nonetheless. "Maximilian-"

"Walker," Papa said, his gaze meeting Maximilian's with a wry grin as he walked toward them. The two knew each other? "Thank you for saving young Minerva. How would you like to join us for supper tonight?"