The Storm-Grey Sea

Chapter Two - A Simple Enquiry

Author's note: Second chapter, and some new characters. I've done a massive amount of research/studying about naval affairs of this time. if you don't understand them (because, let's face it, I have an ungodly obsession with it and can't expect other people to share it), let me know and I'd be happy to explain. Please, please vote and comment if you liked it!

Rosalind could not say she was very fond of balls. She, as a general rule, found it exhausting to keep up the charade of pleasant conversation and happy cheer, especially when it was the early hours of the morning and she longed for her bed.

Of course, she had enjoyed the one last night - it had been gratifying to see Lady Beckett, quite recovered from the death of her husband, gay and laughing, and it had been most agreeable to see her friends and make a few new acquaintances.

Still, when she awoke at seven thirty, she had slept only three hours, and the exhaustion showed in the rings under her eyes when she fixed her hair before her mirror. Giving a sigh, she dressed simply - not expecting anyone to call - and went downstairs for breakfast, eagerly awaiting a cup of coffee and something to eat.

She found her father in the dining room, as he was wont to be. As an admiral, a Vice-Admiral of the Blue, no less, he had been a sailor most of his life. And so rose early, took breakfast, and got a start on his day before most people had even stirred once. Even when ashore, he kept a strict regimen of naval discipline, quite unlike many of the navy men Rosalind had met, who, both on shore and at sea, were an ungoverned lot.

When she'd pointed this out to him, he'd given her a smile and said:

"There is a reason why I have risen in ranks, my dear Rosalind. Discipline, my dear. Discipline is key. You, were you a man, would be a commodore already for your strength of character and your discipline."

She'd smiled and kissed her doting father, knowing that she was the only thing about which he was not disciplined. 

Now, as she entered the dining room and took in the way he sat in his chair, regal, stiff, and upright, she wondered at the fact that he did not have the servants ring a ship's bell to wake him, so naval was his way of life.

He heard her the moment she entered, though she had made no sound. He smiled broadly, put aside both his coffee and his newspaper, and waved that she should come forward.

She did, and stooped, kissed him, and then retreated. "Good morning, Papa."

He grinned, his brown eyes lighting up with pleasure at seeing her, as they always did. "Good morning, dear. You look tired - did you not sleep well last night?"

Rosalind took her seat opposite him, and accepted a cup of coffee from a servant, who then exited and left she and her father in peace. "I slept soundly in the few hours I got," she said, and pinched her cheeks to redden them and give her face some colour.

Her father chuckled quietly. "Did you meet many handsome young men, Rosalind?"

"Papa!" she protested.

He smirked at her, his eyes alight with teasing. "Come, come, I have seen you in your blue muslin dress. I know the figure you strike in any dress, but particularly that one. There must have been ten men vying for you, hm?"

She leveled a stern look at him. She knew he was trying to mock her in the gentlest way he knew how, and so it was with a sarcastic, obstinate mockery of her own that she replied:

"No, Papa. Every single one was quite disagreeable. I have never seen such a troupe of ugly men - everywhere I looked, there was another most hideous man. I have quite given up on men altogether just because of last night. I shall never marry; I shall die an old maid. There, does that please you?"