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“Richard, please come in the kitchen and let me fix you some tea. We need to talk,” she said, going through the living room, and into the kitchen. I gulped a breath, dropped my book, and followed her.She opened the icebox, and took out a pitcher of tea. She poured two glasses, and sat at the table, motioning me to sit. I sat, trembling. I took a drink and almost spilled it because my hands were shaking so. I’m sure she noticed.“Richard...” she said slowly. I dared to meet her eyes. She seemed embarrassed and I felt bad for her. I wanted to comfort her and to tell her it was all alright, not to worry.“This is a very small, tightly knit community,” she said. I nodded. My mom had said the same thing, before. I wondered what this had to do with her ... getting ... having sex. She went on. “A single woman, such as myself ... could have her reputation damaged greatly ... if word were to get out ... of certain ... acts she might have allowed, in the heat of passion.”“Miss Bailey,” I said,. ‘Yessir!’ said Simon. ‘Captain has ordered lunch be served for the Mistress in his cabin, and I’ll get Black Ambrose for you. He was a dressmaker in Porto de Fiona before he joined the Della.’ Simon ran off. Thomas stepped back down the ladder and turned to Isabella. ‘The Captain is making preparations for confrontation,’ he said. ‘You should go to his cabin and eat. I will join you directly.’ Isabella nodded and turned down the short corridor to the Captain’s door. The cabin was empty of company but the central table had been set for lunch. She sat and collected her thoughts while waiting for something to happen. Hopefully, that something would be lunch. She was famished. Looking around the Captain’s cabin, Isabella realized that she had not previously noticed Bertrand’s small bookcase standing beside the door. Its tall shelves held thin, ribbon-bound folios that she at first assumed were maps or navigation tables. Rising to have a closer look, Isabella found, to her delight, that.
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