Prologue

The night before Peter Craft sets out to sea, he asks young Isabel what gift he may bring her back from his travels.

    A young girl with raven curls bounded about her ornately decorated parlor. The expensive dress she wore, the fineness of its satin and lace, the womanly manners that were taught to her by her tutor, and the valuable treasures around her were forgotten as she played with her little dog on the parlor floor. “Fetch, Foxy!” She commanded gleefully, tossing a small rag doll across the room for her pet. Foxy, a pup that was little more than a living, breathing ball of golden fluff, bounced away to retrieve the doll for her beautiful friend.

    The girl was indeed beautiful. Her dark hair shone in the firelight with vibrant colors like the glossy feathers of a raven. It flowed down her back in waves and curled at the ends. Her large eyes gleamed in brilliant azure beneath fans of thick, long lashes. Her features were small a delicate, as was her petite frame. At only seventeen, she was the jewel of London, outshining all around her. Her beauty was made all the more appealing by her selflessness and sweet demeanor. She exuded love and joy. Her soul was far more beautiful than her appearance.

    Her father watched his only child play with her little dog. He smiled proudly at her, fatherly love swelling his heart. No father had ever had such a child. She was lovely inside and out, yet she seemed oblivious to it all. She went about her life, focused solely on her beloved father and the pets she adored to surround herself with. She never noticed the looks of desire or jealousy that often came her way as she walked through the streets. Her father, Peter, wished he could be so oblivious.

    “Isabel, stop playing with Foxy, please. Your dinner is getting cold and there’s something I must discuss with you before I leave tomorrow.” He said, telling her to hurry and wash her hands before sitting down to eat.

    Isabel quickly put Foxy in her room and scrubbed her hands clean before returning to the dining table. “I’m starving.” She grumbled, plopping down in her chair with little grace. She set to tearing into a buttered roll with her fingers.

    Her father chuckled quietly as he sipped a glass of rose red wine. Beautiful as she was, Isabel was far from perfect. Female formalities were lost on her. She found all the strict rules, boring and tiresome. Dresses were just silly. You can’t run in them! She’d destroyed quite a few of her dresses climbing trees in her day. Some of them were very expensive imports he‘d brought back to her from his world travels. He thought that if he gave her really nice gowns, she’d grow to like them, but they seemed to have the opposite effect. If she could get away with it, she’d wear nothing but men’s clothes.

    “Isabel, as you know I’ll be sailing for Spain tomorrow to barter my goods. Is there anything I can bring back for you?” He asked. He waited patiently for her to finish swallowing the bread in her mouth.
    “A gift?” She asked. “Father, you needn’t do that. I have everything I could possibly want.” She said, motioning at the grandeur around her.

    “I insist.” He said, smiling ear to ear. “I can’t leave you for such a long time and not bring you anything to reward your patience. Name anything and it’ll be yours.”

    Isabel thought quietly for a moment. She picked up her glass and swirled the golden cider within, watching it spin round and round the glass. “Well…there is one thing that I’d like…a parrot. You know, one of those birds that can talk? I’d love to have one of those. I adore Foxy, but she can’t really talk to me when you’re away. It’s very quiet around here when you’re gone.”

    Peter felt his chest tighten with sadness. She needed someone to talk to. He’d never given much thought to how lonely his daughter must feel when he was gone. After her mother died when she was just four years old, Peter and her animals were all that Isabel had to keep her company. She was home taught by a tutor, and she really didn’t have any friends her own age. “I’ll certainly look for one, dear one.” He said, trying desperately to hide his sadness with a smile. She grinned excitedly back at him, eager to meet her new, feathered playmate.

    The next morning, Peter bid farewell to his daughter at the London port. It was a brief affair. “Good bye, my dear Isabel. I love you, daughter.” He cooed sweetly to her. He hugged and kissed her rosy cheeks. “Be good.” He said. He pet Foxy’s furry head. “That goes for the both of you.” He and Isabel laughed together before he gave her a final kiss on her forehead and swiftly turned to board his ship, which bore his dead wife’s name. Beatrix.

    He waved good bye to his child from the bow of the ship as he pulled away from the harbor, that always present smile spread across his whiskered face. Isabel waved good bye with a bittersweet smile as she had a hundred times before, knowing that it would be quite a while until she saw her father again, never dreaming that it might be the last.

Author's Note

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