Free Captain Of Her Heart by Barbara Devlin

his part.
    “Alex, are you unwell?” Molly asked, as she stood in the doorway.  “I called to you, but you did not answer.”
    “Good morning, dear friend.  And I am fine.”  She wiped a wayward tear and mustered a smile, even as inside her something fractured.  “What is our schedule for today?”
    “We must clean the cottage from top to bottom.”  Molly hung her outerwear on the wall peg and then retrieved the broom, mop, and bucket from the pantry, where she kept her supplies.  “Although that is not so monumental a task, as you might think, given your maintenance in my absence.  Should you ever require an occupation, you would make a fine charwoman.”
    “I consider that high praise, coming from you.”  At last, her dark spirits eased, and Alex giggled.  “Shall we commence the work?  And you might mop his bedchamber, while I tend the great room, as I swept his quarters after he departed for the yard.”
    “Alex, you really must not take so much upon yourself, else I will have to ask Cap’n to cut my pay in half.  And I brought you a bottle of my vanilla water, as you may favor it.”  Molly shrieked.  “You folded and put away his clothes, too?”
    “Yes.  And thank you for the thoughtful gesture, but now you must accept my perfume, in fair trade.”  Alex picked up both rugs and relocated the furniture, so she could complete a thorough job.  “And have you spoken with Tom?”
    “Oh, I almost forgot.”  Molly abandoned her mop and charged into the great room.  “Put down the broom, as I require your full attention.”
    “What happened?”  Alex ceased her drudgery and plopped on the sofa.  “You must tell me everything.”
    “Yesterday, as I walked home, I passed Tom on the road.  At first, I bowed my head in shame.”  Molly bounced beside Alex.  “But then I recalled your advice, and how we can’t leave everything to chance, which I weighed with your suggestion to be myself, so I greeted him in my usual tone.”
    “And?”  Alex wound tight as a clock spring.
    “He acknowledged my presence but said nothing.”  Molly clasped Alex’s hands.  “And then I thought to myself, ‘What would Alex do?’”
    “Yes—and?”  Alex squeezed the cook-maid’s fingers.
    “So I asked him how he fared, and he inquired after the same.”  The charwoman inhaled and then blurted, “I apologized for my disagreeable behavior, and he asked permission to visit me on Sunday.  Is that not wonderful news?  I am so hopeful.”
    “It is indeed cause for celebration, and hope is always a good thing.”  And now Alex could retreat to London and nurse her injured pride.  “Perhaps you can show me how to make a batch of Shrewsbury cakes, and we can have tea, as an impromptu feast.”
    “That is an excellent idea.”  Molly bit her lip and inclined her head.  “And what of you and Cap’n?  Has he proposed?”
    “No.”
    “Oh.”
    “As that was my primary purpose in traveling to Plymouth, I have failed.”  Alex stood and dusted her dress.  “But I cannot regret the journey, as I met you, and I have learned so many new things.  And you must promise to write, as I will bring you to London, as my guest.”
    “You sound as if you have surrendered.”  The cook-maid clutched her hands to her chest.  “But you must not yield, as I have seen how Cap’n looks at you, which is how I knew you were not related, as my brother never admires me in that way.  Cap’n holds you in great esteem.”
    “While I believe Jason is fond of me, I am no longer assured of his regard.  My sisters were correct, in that I should not have rushed the situation, but I love him, so I must follow my heart.”  She retrieved the broom and sought consolation in her chore.  “But if I must pretend to be something other than myself in order to win him, then he is not for me.”
    And so Alex gave herself to her toils, laboring in concert with Molly, and found refuge therein.  That afternoon, she