A blob of black ink dripped onto the paper. ‘Oh, this is too much!’ protested Caroline. Gathering her skirts, she rose from the writing bureau and returned to the window seat where she had spent most of the morning.
How was a young woman supposed to sit and write a letter in a drawing room that overlooked a busy port? It was too distracting… the tall ships, their rigging clanging in the wind, men shouting to each other as they unloaded silks and spices from faraway places and, of course, the constant calling of the gulls.
All of this was happening right on the doorstep of her father’s elegant quayside townhouse – and Caroline was totally captivated by everything she could see and hear. Even the smells were new to her – the crates of freshly caught fish stacked against the harbour wall, the salty tang of the sea.
Taking in the bustling scene before her, she twisted one of her auburn ringlets around her finger and sighed. How exciting a sailor’s life must be – visiting tropical isles where pineapples and bananas could be plucked from the very trees. Seeing great whales, and battling storms.
Sailors didn’t have to spend their days in dreary drawing rooms. She glanced over at the writing bureau where her discarded pen seemed to point at her accusingly.
It was all so tedious. She wanted to be out there on the quayside, breathing in life itself. She was only 18 – the same age as the new queen. Did Victoria have to
