The Adventures of Melanie - Episode 3

A/N: Hello everyone! Welcome back to Trevendin for Episode 3 of Melanie the lady's maid! Today we will begin our journey to the Kingdom of Maravel...

The carriage rattled along the uneven road, making it difficult for Melanie to retain the poise and posture she had learned from Genevieve before leaving Belgaband. Gladys and Minithe were keeping up a spirited debate about the King of Maravel, taking bets of which part of him would be the most disgusting. This did not cheer Melanie.

"I heard his nose has seven warts."

"That's impossible! There isn't enough room on a nose for that many warts."

"Well, tell that to Sven the messenger. He's the one what told me."

"Sven is notorious for exaggerating. Besides, when would Sven have gotten close enough to Harford to count his nose warts?"

Melanie was glad her two friends would accompany her, but they were not good travelling companions when you wanted to feel sorry for yourself and you were trying to look dignified. They kept making her want to laugh.

Three days into their journey by carriage, Melanie began to smell a salty breeze on the air. We must be getting close to the sea, she realized.

They would travel by sea to the port of Gilden at the mouth of the Maravellian River and travel up the river towards Adria, capital of Maravel. There, Melanie would be her betrothed.

She dreaded that day almost as much as Genevieve had.The difference was that Genevieve had been able to throw a fit to get what she wanted, and Melanie was stuck trying to save the kingdom by impersonating her mistress. She looked out the window of the carriage miserably.

She wasn't even able to appreciate the grand beauty of the sea. She knew that this was the sea across which Genevieve would soon be travelling, to the kingdom of Lessar where she would wait in hiding until their plan was complete. Melanie had never heard much about Lessar. She wondered if Genevieve would have to live in a cold, bare room in the snow-covered land. The thought gave her some small sliver of happiness, however uncharitable the thought.

As the carriage jolted to a stop, Melanie arranged her face in the expression of faint disdain that she had been copying from Genevieve and prepared herself to answer to that name.

The footman, Jacques, opened the door and bowed low. He, of course, was in on the secret, as he and Melanie had been friends since childhood. Jacques had grown up in the same neighborhood as Melanie and had often helped out with her mother after her father had died. Jacques held out a hand to Melanie, whispering, "Your Highness" with a faint look of pity on his pock-marked face.

Melanie descended from the carriage as gracefully as possible. For as long as she had worked for Genevieve, she had never had to wear garments so bulky and impractical in the palace. Her corset was so tight that breathing was difficult. No wonder Genevieve sat so straight all the time - she was physically incapable of bending.

Brushing down her amethyst-coloured skirts, Melanie looked over to the ship they would be taking down the coast and up the river. She froze.

On the dock, hands folded neatly behind his back, was the most gorgeous man she had ever seen. He wore a double-breasted black coat over a crisp, white shirt and simple brown britches. His shoes were buckled with either nickel or silver, Melanie couldn't tell which - but it was a metal finer than pewter, which spoke to some importance and wealth.

His dark, shining chestnut brown hair shone in the sun, pulled back into a single braid that fell just below his shoulders. A sharp jaw accentuated an expressive mouth, with large eyes that followed every movement of the sailors travelling up and down the gangplank, carrying supplies.

"Your Highness," Gladys whispered behind her. "Shall we?"

Melanie remembered she was supposed to be 1) breathing and 2) getting aboard the ship. She began to do both.

She paused to speak to Jacques. "Who is that on the dock?" she muttered.

Jacques grinned knowingly. "That there ‘andsome fellow is the captain of the ship, Your ‘ighness," he said with a bow. "Enjoy." He winked conspiratorially.

Melanie felt her face begin to colour and breathed deeply before she could make a complete fool out of herself - out of Genevieve. She cleared her throat and made her way down to the docks, trying to look as regal as possible.

The captain turned and smiled at her, a brilliant white smile that illuminated his deep chocolate brown eyes. “Your Highness,” he said with a courtly bow. “I welcome you to my ship, the Rebelle. I am Captain Jacob Benjamin.” He spoke with the accent of Maravel, all aristocratic clipped vowels and musical cadences.

Melanie fought the urge to curtsy and instead inclined her head magnanimously. “Princess Genevieve of Belgaband. Pleased to make your acquaintance, Captain.” She tried to disguise her own accent as she had been practicing with Genevieve. “My maids, Gladys and Minithe,” she added with a careless wave over her shoulder. The two younger women curtsied.

Captain Benjamin inclined his head to them. “Welcome, ladies. Please come aboard and I will show you to your cabin.”

He lead them up the gangplank to a large cabin at the bow - no, the stern? Melanie was going to have to learn more - of the ship. Opening the door with a bow, Melanie swept in and tried to look unimpressed. She suspected these were the Captain’s own quarters, given over the Princess for the duration of the voyage.

“Well, I suppose this will do,” she said, looking around uninterestedly. “Have my things brought in. Gladys, Minithe, see to it that my wardrobe is properly looked after.” Gladys and Minithe curtsied and went to do as Melanie bid them.

“Your Highness, I beg you to join me for a cup of tea,” said the captain with another low bow. “It will be some time yet before the ship is ready to set sail.”

Melanie considered what Genevieve would do. It was polite and correct to accept the Captain’s invitations, but Genevieve was also petulant enough to refuse after such a long journey by carriage. Melanie decided to be proper and correct. This had nothing to do with the pleasant, inviting look in Jacob Benjamin’s chocolate eyes.

“Very well, Captain. Lead the way.”

Benjamin led her up the deck to a cabin opposite her own and opened the door for her. As she entered, he called, “Jonah! Tea, if you please.” A young boy, no older than twelve, saluted the captain and ran off, presumably to collect tea.

The captain led her to a simple wooden chair at a table in the center of the room. He pulled the chair out for her with a flourish and helped her sit. He took the chair opposite her own.

“Well, Princess Genevieve,” he said. Melanie was surprised to hear him pronounce the princess’ name correctly - so many foreigners pronounced it jen-uh-veev, rather than the correct Belgabandish zhen-vee-ev. “What do you think of the Rebelle so far?”

Melanie clasped her hands under the table. Breathing, for some reason, was more difficult now than it had been a minute ago. “I must confess, Captain, to knowing little of ships. I would not know a great ship from a bad one if it ran me over.”

The captain looked bemused, and Melanie realized she had made a joke that Princess Genevieve would not have made. She decided not to correct herself and tried to control the heat rising to her cheeks. Genevieve would just be more care-free than rumour suggested she was.

“I see,” Benjamin said. “Well, Your Highness, we shall have to remedy that situation.”

The cabin boy Jonah returned bearing a tea tray, and after placing all the items on the table with shaking hands, backed out of the room with much bowing and mutters of “Captain, Your Highness, thank you.” Melanie could not stop a faint smile from rising to her lips.

As Benjamin served the tea, Melanie asked, “How long will we be at sea, Captain?”

“About a fortnight until we reach Adria,” the captain said easily.

Melanie struggled to control the trembling of her hands, making her teacup clatter against the saucer. She remembered her mother’s words: Fortnights and moons, and ravens at noon. She shook the thought out of her head. A coincidence.

Benjamin either did not notice her shaking or politely ignored it. “After we take tea, will you allow me to show you around the ship?”

Melanie nodded her ascent and continued to drink her tea. She eyed the glazed tea-cakes on the tray, but the tightness of her corset convinced her not to indulge.

Captain Benjamin was an easy man to talk to. After just a few minutes, Melanie found herself smiling and trying not to laugh as Benjamin described encounters with mermaids and sea dragons, terrifying escapes from pirates that were obviously embellished, and the time he was kidnapped by a wood sprite in Forest Gilden. Melanie did not know how much to believe, but the stories were entertaining and she didn’t have to talk much.

After they had taken tea, Benjamin offered her his arm and showed her around the ship as he had promised. She tried to remember the names of all the different working parts of the ship - rudder, keel, mizzenmast, jib… it all blurred together in her mind, but throughout Benjamin’s patient explanations, she smiled and nodded and tried to look politely interested but slightly impatient as Genevieve would have done. She wasn’t sure she managed it. Benjamin’s voice had a beautiful cadence to it, and a bright intelligence that could not be denied. About halfway through their tour, Gladys and Minithe appeared, silently trailing them around the ship, waiting for any commands from their lady.

“Captain!” called a deep voice from the front - the bow, Melanie silently corrected herself - of the ship. “All clear!”

With a nod, Benjamin turned to Melanie. “Your Highness, we are now ready to set sail. You may retire to your cabin if you wish. It will be busy on deck and we would not want you to be overwhelmed by my sailors. They are … not as refined as most people you would associate with.”

Melanie tried to decide if Genevieve would retire complaining or stay on the deck out of spite. She decided on the latter course of action. “I will stay on deck, Captain. Your sailors will just have to work around me.”

Captain Benjamin looked slightly taken aback, but bowed and waved a hand towards the stern. “You will have the best view of the coast from the stern of the ship, Your Highness,” he suggested. “You can watch as we set sail.”

That was, in fact, exactly why Melanie had chosen to remain on deck. She wanted to keep Belgaband in her sights as long as possible, not knowing when - or if - she would return.