The Aeronauts (for marauder_13 and myself)

It was a rainy day when the letter arrived. The professor glanced at it, eyeing it over with his ancient eyes. It was not long after, that they gained a delightful twinkle in them. It had been a request for assistance on a most urgent matter. It was said that they should "make haste", and arrive in London as soon as possible. They carried probably more than what was needed for the trip. Lily had grown accustomed to it by now. The lectures, the artifact studies, the experiments that needed her father's attention. She loved the work, but she was growing weary of travel to the same old places.

The more she studied, the more it felt like there were no discoveries left. It felt as if there was not a single stone unturned. It was probably for that reason that she delved into folklore, magic, and superstition. Her father was an expert on the topic, but deep down she wanted to believe. The carriage hit a bump sending her book into her face. She cursed loudly.

"Lily Elizabeth Amsel! I know I have not been the best father, but you know you could make an effort to resemble a lady once in awhile. If not by looks, by manners."

She pouted and went back to the book. It spoke of amulets and how one might imbue them with special abilities. The pharaohs wore them even in death. Could such things exist. She almost hoped they did. It would mean that there was something else out there, something to explore. When they'd finally arrived she was again set with the task of riding with the luggage. The professor would be in a sort briefing meeting on their next task. This was killing her. They rarely got sent to London. She was immediately jealous. Whatever they were discussing, had to be important.

Even in the haze of the harbour, she knew that what she was seeing couldn't be so. Soon she was shuffled into a room on the strangest ship she'd ever seen as large men quickly carried the luggage inside. She looked around to see that her father's quarters were equipped with anything he might possibly need for study or experimentation. She sighed heavily.

"Oh father, what have you gotten us into this time?"

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Lily Amsel (daughter of Professor Frederick Amsel)
Age:23
Height: 5'6"
Hair: light brown curly (usually under a cap)
Eyes: hazel
Dress: Often dressed in men's clothing consisting of a button up shirt and brown pants. Will wear dresses on occasion.

Dexter Beaumont relaxed in the cab as it took him from the train station to his final destination. Since leaving the 17th Heavy Infantry Regiment nearly five years before, Dexter had been traveling with various parties of Gentlemen explorers seeking out the few remaining mysteries left in the world. Since he had fought in his fair share of battles in the far reaching colonies of Her Majesty's Realm, he was employed to help maintain the safety of those gentlemen, and other personages of note.

He pushed some of the uncut sable strands of hair from out of his blue eyes. In his rush, he didn't get himself cleaned up as much as he would have liked, but it wouldn't take him too long once he was settled. If anyone objected to his unshaven face, he would ignore them.

But the message he received from Sir Ian Mosley made him forget such trivial matters, and hastened his trip to London. The senior advisor to the British Government on matters of security was also the father of Captain Charles Mosley, a man Dexter served under for three years. Captain Mosley was one of the few officers not cast from the "Death or Glory" mold. The young man was concerned for his command, and made sure that as many of them returned as set out, while still getting the desired results. That more than anything else made Dexter interested in what was happening.

The cab pulled up, and Dexter got out, paying the man for his work. He got his large case, and duffel, then walked over to the ship that was moored at Dock 12A. He walked slowly, gazing at the structure with wide eyed amazement.

"Sorry, Sahr. No civilians allowed past this point."

Dexter looked at the man dressed in the Grenadier's uniform, bayonet clad rifle in a relaxed, but easily readied position. "Morning, Sergeant. I have been requested to go aboard that ship." He slowly reached into a pocket, pulling out the telegram that sparked his journey. He held it up for the Sergeant to read, not wanting the guard to loose his grip on the rifle. Dexter noticed the guard's eyes flicking between him and the telegram he held.

The guard snapped to attention. "Sorry, Sahr. Please continue."

"Thank you, Sergeant. It is good to see that there are still men who do their jobs properly." Dexter walked to the gangway, where a stream of men loaded smaller supplies into the ship. He waited his turn, and slipped into a gap and got on board. He managed to take two steps when a young man in a suit appeared before him.

"Ah, Mister Beaumont. We have been waiting for you." The blonde haired man waved, and a sailor trotted over. "Please take Mister Beaumont's effects to his cabin." Without waiting for a reply or acknowledgement, the unknown man led Dexter off toward the centre of the vessel. People made way for them, and before long, they entered a large, opulent meeting room filled with people.

One man stood at the other end of the room to the door, while four more men sat at various points about the large table. Each of the men were different in some form or other. The man standing was dressed in a suit that if he kept his entire pay for the time he served, he would not have been able to pay for it.

At the table sat a stern man in a Royal Navy Officer's uniform, his hat resting on the table before him. Further around was a man who seemed to border on being ancient; thinning gray hair, skin the colour of brittle paper and little flesh between that and his bones. Opposite him at the table was a man who was immaculately dressed and prepared. Everything about him screamed 'perfect'. Finally, seated beside Mr Perfect was a solid man who's face was buried up to the eyes in a wild growing beard.

"Thank you, Baxter. That's all for now." Dexter looked at the standing Sir Ian for the first time, and saw the resemblance immediately. Their faces were exactly alike; long with prominent cheeks, solid jaws, dark piercing eyes nestled under a thatch of hair that almost ran unbroken above the eyes. Where Charles was clean shaven with rich brown hair, Sir Ian was crowned with silver, and had a heavy mustache.

"Mister Beaumont, please sit down. We have little time, and much to impart. In the last few days, we have managed to determine that a grave threat is developing against the Empire from forces yet unknown. This threat can't be dealt with in the normal means, mainly because there are few about that can fully understand the import of what is happening.

"Three days ago, from the Royal Museum of History, an artifact was stolen. This was the second such theft of antiquities in the last two weeks. We had suspicions when the first artifact was stolen, which is when we started gathering all of you together. The second merely confirmed those suspicions."

"So, we're trying to catch a thief then? This seems to be a little heavy handed to catch some robbers, Sir Ian."

"But for the nature of what was stolen, Mister Beaumont, I would agree. But, as Professor Amsel will attest, these items are rather significant. Furthermore, we are not sure as to what the capabilities of the artifacts are, so we need to find out more about them."

"Which will require us to take to the field in search of the missing lore about these items," Professor Amsel responded. "Sir Mosley has graciously lent us the assets of the Empire to see our venture a success. The fact that they have made HMS Daedalus available for us to use should indicate the degree of seriousness of this task."

"Yes," Dexter eased back into the chair. "This ship is rather, ah, different to the main ships of the Royal Navy."

The Naval officer turned and fixed Dexter with an icy stare. "The Daedalus is a vessel of unique capabilities that should be employed in more fruitful missions rather than chasing after Ghosts, Ghouls and Goblins."

Dexter looked at the man closer. He either held his age quite well, or somehow managed to secure a commission of such prestige through his skills or more likely through his connections. Dexter was sure that the man was no older than he was, which put him a good ten years ahead of the normal officers who commanded naval vessels.

"Yes, Captain Hoswell, we are all aware of your thoughts on this mission, but your orders still stand." Sir Mosley turned his attention back to the other occupants of the table. "Three members of this expedition have been more or less introduced, I will complete the introductions of the other main members present. You heard from Captain Peter Hoswell, Captain of HMS Daedalus. Also, we have Professor Amsel. He is a noted academic who's expertise will be invaluable in this venture."

The wizened old man nodded to Mosley, thanking him for his compliment.

"Our last arrival is Dexter Beaumont. He is a capable man in times of conflict, and a man who rarely fails his fellows in a crisis." Dexter put on a fake smile, looked at each man in turn, then gave Sir Ian a half hearted salute.

"We also have Doctor Alexi Van Der Berg. He has an excellent reputation with dealing some of the more obscure illnesses known to man, as well as being a fine surgeon.

"And finally, Mister Gordon Hall. He is an engineer second to none. He has been able to take the research work of numerous top scientists, and turn their visions into reality. Without him, the Daedalus would not be operational now."

Sir Ian walked to the unoccupied head of the table, slowly sitting down. "I only have another hour before I need to depart. I have left extensive reports on everything we know so far about what has happened, and our beliefs concerning what may prevail if those responsible succeed."

"With your permission, Sir Ian, I would like to withdraw and oversee the final preparations before we set sail."

"Of course, Captain. Thank you for taking the time to sit in on this much of the meeting."

Dexter watched out of the corner of his eye as Captain Hoswell stood up, donned his hat and left the room without saying a word, or making a parting gesture. Dexter noted the tension levels in the room decrease once the Captain left the room.

"So, he's not running the show, is he?"

"No, Mister Beaumont. Professor Amsel is the Expedition's leader."

"Thank the Lord for that. That man is just wrong for this kind of mission."

"And how do you come to that conclusion, Mister Beaumont." Doctor Van Der Berg's voice was clear, accented but completely understandable English. His pale face barely moved as he spoke, only his eyes moved behind the circular spectacles perched on his prominent nose.

"Just his declaration about where his little girl should be. He doesn't believe in the task he has been assigned, so he would make way too many mistakes and possibly get too many people killed, and maybe even get the ship destroyed. I've seen too many pig headed officers just like him ignore good advice from others simply because it didn't fit their personal agendas."

"If what Charles has told me is correct, I'd rather you not shoot him while the mission is underway."

"I promise I will not shoot him until after the mission is finished." Sir Ian's frown told Dexter that the civil servant wasn't sure if Dexter was serious or not.

From what her father said, she'd been under the impression that the meeting would be brief. In her experience, these meetings never were. It was as if these men, dignified and experienced had forgotten the very meaning of the word. What did he expect her to do while they discussed probably the most interesting thing she'd heard in months? Certainly she didn't know what it might be, but from the looks of things, they'd be staying here for awhile.

It was not that her father was insensitive, but that he knew well the ways of men. They often felt, that anything intellectual or important was best discussed out of the presence of ladies. He knew well of the lady he should have raised her to be, but he'd needed an assistant in his old age more than a decorated flower. There were times she felt she'd disappointed him, so every now and then she'd throw on a dress to make him feel better. It was strange to her how something as simple as impractical clothing could make the old man smile.

She grew restless. It was difficult to read about banshees when she was missing everything. This would not do. Not at all. She memorized the location of the room on the ship and crept down the hallway. She knew it'd be difficult to miss the meeting room. There'd be guards out front. She grinned as she slipped into the room beside it. Her ear was soon pressed desperately against the wall. Almost she could make out their speech. It was then she spied fine crystal whiskey glasses behind a small bar. Soon a single glass pressed against the wall gave her the information she so desperately craved.

This would be something special. Probably top secret. She was absolutely giddy with excitement. Stolen artifacts, travel, this just got better by the minute. What was even more interesting was this Beaumont fellow. He didn't care much for authority from the sound of it. What had made them place such a man on a trip this important? Taking orders had to be one of the more important things on a...

"Excuse me sir what are you doing?"

A guard peaked his head into the room catching her red handed. She cursed again as they made her to replace the glass and forcibly escorted her back to her room. Already she was mourning the loss of that information. It was as if she could cry. She rubbed her shoulder where she'd been forcibly grabbed by the guard. They hadn't noticed she was a woman, it made her smile. She was not ugly, it was just that she often looked more like a very effeminate boy. It was better that way. People assuming she was delicate had become more than irritating. No things were definitely better this way.

"Ah, Sir Mosley, I do have a question for you pertaining to the timing of the correspondence that I received notifying me of this expedition."

"Yes, Doctor Van Der Berg?" Sir Ian turned aware from Dexter to face the physician.

"You mentioned that three days previous, a second artifact was stolen, but I received my missive from you a week ago. Surely there must be a discrepancy in the time stated for the second theft."

"No, there is no discrepancy. Her Majesty has a woman acquaintance that has some remarkable talents concerning knowledge of future events. Her Majesty revealed certain proofs to me about the woman's accuracy. The woman then proceeded to explain that these thefts, as well as others that will and may occur, are linked to a threat to the Empire if not the world at large."

"So, Her Majesty released this ship, and made the funds available to chase these people down all on the word of a fortune teller?"

"In simplistic terms, Mr Beaumont, that is correct."

"I think I am going to be a more loyal subject of the Crown knowing this. Her Majesty is one courageous woman. So, Sir Ian, what has been stolen so far?"

"An Etruscan Urn, as well as a Middle Kingdom Egyptian Golden pendant. The pendant was stolen from a private collection, while the Urn was taken from Museum of Natural History."

"Those two cultures are hardly linked, Sir Ian." Professor Amsel's eyes were shining brightly as he leaned forward closer to the table. "Are you sure that this woman was correct in her declaration?"

"Yes. She said that those are the first of many. she also said, and I repeat this verbatim, 'Pieces are gathered and a key to be forged. The gates of Hell will be locked to let the Greatest Evil be free.' She implied that there will be other thefts, and they will be used in some manner to release something worse than the Devil."

Dexter whistled long and low. "Sounds like it could be a little challenging in parts, but nothing we can't handle. I mean we have one of the most impressive vessels in the world at out disposal, the backing of Her Majesty, along with some of the sharpest minds about. I'm sure that this will be over in no time."

"Please leave the sarcasm on the dock, Mister Beaumont. I believe that this will be a dangerous mission, but the rewards will be more than adequate compensation for your efforts. Now, as I have said, there is a case in the Professor's cabin with all the information we have available to us on the artifacts that have been stolen, as well as any other information that we believe is relevant to the mission." He pulled a fob watch out of his pocket, checking the time. "Time has moved faster than I thought, Gentlemen. I must take my leave of you. We have sent messages to all of our Ambassadors, telling them to render all possible aid to you in your endeavours.

"Good Luck, Gentlemen, and God's speed to you all." Sir Ian left with a chorus of farewells, while the remaining men sat in an awkward silence.

"Well, I think that we should all retire to our cabins and get some well earned rest. Then, we shall return here with the case Sir Mosley left us, and we can see what clues we can uncover."

Everyone nodded or murmured their agreement and made their way out of the room. Dexter hung back, waiting for the professor.

"Young man, I think you will be a great addition to this expedition. You seem to have a rare insight into matters such as these."

"Hardly, Professor. I am merely a soldier out of uniform. Show me an enemy that needs to be fought, and I will fight them. I'll leave the philosophies to the likes of yourself. But, rest assured, I have not lost a member of the Royal Society yet, and I am not going to start with you." That earned Dexter a sharp look. "Professor, you have a rather easy to remember name. I have heard of you more than once from other fellows of the Society."

Professor Amsel's laugh was a dry, raspy one. "Yes, a rare intellect. I am glad that you feel that I am worthy of such diligence, and I will rely on your wisdom in those times. I am looking forward to going to sleep one night, and just not waking up the following morning."

"Well, Professor, I will do my best to make that request come true." They paused at the door to his cabin, while the professor searched for his key. "If you like, I know a few lovely ladies who would probably help send you off to sleep feeling very good."

Professor Amsel paused, and looked off into the distance taking a deep breath that made his ribs creak. The smile that graced his face, along with the twinkle in his eye, seemed to remove a quarter of century from his face "Thank you, young man, for the thought. Let me think on it further and get back to you."

Lily had long fallen asleep on a couch in the professor's room. A book open on her chest. The old man merely smiled as he opened the door. With a simple kiss to the forehead she woke.

"Father how long was that meeting?"

"Long enough.." he said with a smile.

He grabbed a large bag from the luggage that she'd never seen before. She rubbed her eyes, to make sure she wasn't seeing things. He handed it to her, which only made her more puzzled.

"Happy Birthday Lily!"

"Father, my birthday was four months ago.." she said giving the bag more curious looks.

She was almost afraid to look inside. He never gave her gifts suddenly. Something was up.

"I know. I know. The truth is, I haven't been completely honest with you."

Now she was even more petrified to look inside. What was going on?

"Well you see, we're not in London for a few weeks or even a month. Well be on this ship possibly as long as several months to a year."

Her jaw dropped. This expedition seemed exciting, but she had some mixed feelings about being on this boat for so long. She didn't even know these men, but who was she kidding? The professor was usually her only companion. What difference did it make if there were a few more people around?

"I brought you with me, because this is the trip you've always wanted my dear. We'll be going to Rome, Egypt, and many places not even I have ever been. Oh you'll love it! I know we've been on the road so often, perhaps this could become like a second home. Now quickly! Grab your things!"

With a few quick adjustments, she had a hold of her luggage. He soon left the room and motioned her to follow. Several doors down he stopped and opened a door. She gasped dropping her things to the floor. There was a telescope, a small library, and field equipment.

"I made certain that you had your own quarters. Perhaps you'll find some peace."

She smiled and hugged the old man tightly.

"It's more than I could ask for!"

"Good! I'll retire for the night. Also try not to be too startled in the morning. Sleep well!"

Again her face contorted into a puzzled look. Sometimes she had the feeling that no matter how much she became like him, there was always something he wasn't telling her. Upon closer inspection, she noticed that the room was more feminine than expected. There were flowers on the bedding and the curtains. A full vanity was there as well. What did they expect her to do with that? It felt almost alien to her. She took a deep breath and opened her present. The bag held several dresses complete with their proper undergarments.

"Way to give me a hint..."

She hung the garments in the closet before collapsing on the bed fully clothed.

The next morning she woke to find she'd missed breakfast. She yawned loudly and stuffed her hair beneath a large hat. It kept it out of her face, and she liked things that way. After putting on a coat, she left to explore the deck. She carefully navigated the halls before finally finding the exit. With a sigh of relief, she moved to the railing to get a look at the view. Immediately she moved backwards. The ship was flying.

"That's impossible!" she said out loud.

With another thought she smiled.

"This is amazing!"

When the novelty of the view was beginning to wear off, she took a seat and found the good part of her book. It would be a good day.

Dexter returned to his room, getting his effects stored, and settled in to get some sleep. There would be a time where sleep would be a luxury, so he got it while he could and when he could.

The following morning, Dexter woke to the feel of the engines working, and the sensation of motion. He stretched in bed, the groan starting very low and rising in volume the longer he continued to stretch. He allowed himself to go limp, then stretched and moved one part of his body at a time. He started at his feet, working his way up through the joints until his hips were done. He rolled out of his bed into a sitting position, and did the same with his hands and arms.

He brought himself to a stop as he was working his left elbow. "That's odd." He stood up, grabbed his belt and put it on. Absently, his right hand checked that the holster was attached, and the pistol was inside. He made his way up onto the deck, heading to the railing nearest to the starboard side door.

"Sweet Jesus!" Dexter gripped the railing as he peered down through the light clouds underneath the hull of the H.M.S. Daedalus. "No God-damned wonder the ride was so smooth." He looked up at the rigging, again seeing the collection of balloons that were helping the ship maintain her current elevation. "So you were designed to help the ship move through the water... by taking her out of it."

He went back inside, and made his way to the galley, joining the crew in having breakfast. Being the only civilian there, he was mainly ignored by the crew. Dexter just went about his own business, eating his breakfast. He nodded to a few crew who sat at the same table as he did, but left it to the men to decide to talk to him. He found them to be an interesting mix of older men, and rather young men. There didn't appear to be any middle ground age wise, which was a puzzle Dexter was going to enjoy figuring out.

Dexter returned to the deck, having a wander to see where he could go safely, and have a better look at the view on offer. As he explored, he observed another civilian on the deck, sitting and reading. They weren't at the meeting, so he wondered which of the other men's assistant the fellow was.

"Morning. Not a bad spot to have a read, but I think the winds might make it a little challenging. If they crop up, of course."

She'd been obsessed with this book and there was not much that could have taken her away. It was a good read to be certain, but then the unexpected happened. A familiar voice rang out.

"Morning. Not a bad spot to have a read, but I think the winds might make it a little challenging. If they crop up, of course."

She looked up from her book to glance at this man. It was a rare occasion that anyone spoke to her straight off. It was usually that someone would speak to her father and then remark that he'd raised such a talented young man, who was certain to follow in his footsteps. It was usually after that point that her father corrected them, and they no longer spoke to her again. It often made them uncomfortable to see a female that had surpassed them, or atleast that's was her theory. Such things did not matter, but it couldn't hurt to have some light conversation with someone every now and then.

Her eyes traveled over this man as best she could without seeming improper. His dark hair was unkept, his face in need of a shave, his eyes confident and sure. In all her days she'd never seen such a man. Something about him made her close the book and place it in her inner coat pocket.

"I guess you're right. This book is a good one. I wouldn't want to lose it to a harsh wind. This ship is truly a wonder, my father probably had a hand in this. There's still so much he doesn't tell me."

She wondered if this man would notice. Anyone paying real attention could tell that her hands were delicate, her bone structure too small, and her eyes too lovely to be a man. It was a wonder that she'd fooled so many educated individuals. The eye in these times was so focused on clothing to determine gender that they would never immediately assume such a thing. Perhaps she could talk to this one before he noticed. Once he did, it was likely he wouldn't speak to her the rest of the trip. What a pity. He looked so interesting.


"I'm sorry, where are my manners? I'm Amsel, you've probably already met my father the professor."

She extended a hand to shake his. Such a shame that they'd never speak again. He looked the type who had quite a few stories to tell.

Dexter was pleased to see the young fellow look up from his book. Dexter had seen too many of the bookworms merely peer up from the page that held their attention, grunt or make some other slight noise, then return to their reading. The lad looked a little delicate, but not everyone was born to be athletic. He was probably a scholar of some sort. He hoped the lad had some spirit, because this was not going to be a peaceful trip. Dexter never got hired for peaceful trips.

"I guess you're right. This book is a good one. I wouldn't want to loose it to a harsh wind. This ship is truly a wonder, my father probably had a hand in this. There's still so much he doesn't tell me."

"A wonder? That is a grand understatement." Dexter leant over the railing, trying to see what was below them. He could see only water with the occasional wave. He turned back to the young fellow, resting against the railing without any concerns of falling. "If your father had a hand in this, he is a gifted man indeed. I admire a man who's willing to expand their legacy's mind with experiences of the world. Have you ever been abroad? We're bound for Rome, I'd say." He looked off into the distance, reminiscence clouding his face. "Tis a good place to visit too. For someone like yourself. The ladies there are warm and friendly. If you are just enough of a gentleman, they will thank you well into the night." He looked back at the fellow, grinning broadly.

"I'm sorry, where are my manners? I'm Amsel, you've probably already met my father the professor."

"Forgive my bad manners too, young Amsel. I'm Beaumont. Dexter Beaumont." He crossed the distance, taking the slender hand in his, careful not to squeeze too tight. "Yes, I have met the Professor. Fine man. Well thought of by the Fellows of the Royal Society." Dexter walked over to one of the walls, leaning against it casually. "I think it's good for the Professor to be bringing you along. There is going to be plenty of things to see and do. Plus, you hang around with me, and I'll make sure that you get to experience everything that life, and ladies, have to offer."

Well he certainly seemed smart enough to admire her father. That was certainly a relief. They would need to trust his wisdom in times of trouble. The last thing they needed was a crew that could not recognize that. The man was a genius and she was soon matching his skill. It didn't matter though, the hints her father was dropping her weren't without reason. One day he would die and on that day, she knew no one would listen to her anymore. How could they be so foolish?

"If your father had a hand in this, he is a gifted man indeed. I admire a man who's willing to expand their legacy's mind with experiences of the world. Have you ever been abroad? We're bound for Rome, I'd say."

Rome, she'd always wanted to go. A city with so many stories. She wanted to know every last one of them. Everything from the corinthian pillars of ruins, to the underground Isis cults. Perhaps they'd return some other time when it wouldn't be work related. Her thoughts were distracted when she saw the way the light caught on this man. Something made her want to stare, but she fought that impulse. He was a good looking man to be certain.

"Tis a good place to visit too. For someone like yourself. The ladies there are warm and friendly. If you are just enough of a gentleman, they will thank you well into the night."

The man grinned and her smile fell. So, he was that sort of man. His glow began to diminish. He was only just enough of a gentleman, which couldn't be much at all. Men were so foolish when it came to viewing those of the opposite gender. She knew that it was unlikely that her intellect was rare, which could only mean that men were the foolish ones.

"Forgive my bad manners too, young Amsel. I'm Beaumont. Dexter Beaumont."

Beaumont, the man from before. She should have guessed as much. That attitude about him should have screamed it. What on earth could such a man do to help them? It made no sense.

"I think it's good for the Professor to be bringing you along. There is going to be plenty of things to see and do. Plus, you hang around with me, and I'll make sure that you get to experience everything that life, and ladies, have to offer."

She smiled. This man was practically digging himself a grave.

"Well sir I'm not certain I know what you feel ladies have to offer. Perhaps you could tell me first hand. I'm sure I could use whatever you can teach me."

Her smile was becoming a smirk. She had a feeling that this one was going to be interesting. If she was correct, he'd be too egotistical to keep such things to himself. This would be fun.

Dexter took another moment to look over the Professor's son. The man was more lithe that Dexter was. A crueler honesty would have said frail, but the young fellow was going to be a companion, so he would err on the side of fair. But still, the Professor thought the lad was strong enough to travel, then Dexter was going to give him the benefit of the doubt. But with a little exercise, and some proper training, Dexter was sure that the lad would fill out well enough to look more robust than he currently was.

"Well sir I'm not certain I know what you feel ladies have to offer. Perhaps you could tell me first hand. I'm sure I could use whatever you can teach me."

"Lad, nothing compares to first hand experience. There'll be plenty of time to ease you in, and get you the experience that you'll need. As for hearing about it... well, it will help pass the time a little, I suppose I could fill you in on some things."

Dexter cast his eyes around, quickly finding another of the heavy chairs, dragging it over to be closer to Amsel's chair. He sat himself down, elbows resting on his knees and his hands clasped low in front of him.

"Don't take this the wrong way, but I guess that you've never kissed anyone apart from your own family. And even then, of course, it would have been rather chaste. But I can tell you this, there is nothing to compare to the feel of a very warm, rather excited woman's body pressed up against you as you claim the first prize that she has to offer you. Know this, a woman's lips, when she's desiring, are the softest, sweetest things you will ever taste." Dexter glanced around, then leaned a little closer.

"But her lips aren't the only place that you can kiss. More often than not, the ladies will welcome the brush of lips in some more delicate of places. Done right, she'll be so thankful that she will grant you whatever joys you wish to savour. Some men don't like to do it, but the ladies love being kissed between their legs. You get good at that, Lad, you'll never be lonely for the company of the ladies. You can trust me on than one. You'd be surprised just how much the ladies will talk about a man's prowess and talents. More than once I have had a lady of some quality seek me out to confirm if rumour was indeed true. On every occasion, she left well pleased."

Dexter sat back, setting himself a little straighter. "But fear not, Lad. There are ladies out there that will happily guide you and show you what is really good. Plus, it'll serve you well when you take on a wife. Tis better for you to know what to do, and calm the sweet lass into that part of her new life. But for now, there will be a grand time as you learn first hand and experience all the joys that life gives."

"Lad, nothing compares to first hand experience. There'll be plenty of time to ease you in, and get you the experience that you'll need. As for hearing about it... well, it will help pass the time a little, I suppose I could fill you in on some things."

She hung on his every word. This man thought he was an expert on ladies so she was more than happy to listen. Though she greatly doubted he could tell her something she didn't know. What a silly man. She'd make him pay for his arrogance. It almost made her giggle. The man soon sat down mere inches away.

"Don't take this the wrong way, but I guess that you've never kissed anyone apart from your own family. And even then, of course, it would have been rather chaste. But I can tell you this, there is nothing to compare to the feel of a very warm, rather excited woman's body pressed up against you as you claim the first prize that she has to offer you. Know this, a woman's lips, when she's desiring, are the softest, sweetest things you will ever taste."

Her cheeks grew hot. How many women had this man bedded? She wasn't a fool. She knew how it worked, probably better than most girls. For she had anatomy books. Deep down she always wondered what it'd be like to be kissed, but why would any woman wish to kiss such a scoundrel. Men were to be gentlemen weren't they?

"But her lips aren't the only place that you can kiss. More often than not, the ladies will welcome the brush of lips in some more delicate of places. Done right, she'll be so thankful that she will grant you whatever joys you wish to savour. Some men don't like to do it, but the ladies love being kissed between their legs. You get good at that, Lad, you'll never be lonely for the company of the ladies. You can trust me on than one. You'd be surprised just how much the ladies will talk about a man's prowess and talents. More than once I have had a lady of some quality seek me out to confirm if rumour was indeed true. On every occasion, she left well pleased."

Her eyes became like saucers. Kissing? Between the legs? For a moment she imagined it, a man's lips brushing against hers then kissing downwards... This was crazy. He had to be making it up. There was no way people did things like that. Why would they? Intimacy was for reproduction, not something to be taken lightly. Were men usually this way when women weren't around. If so she was determined not to marry. She didn't need some stupid perverted beast wishing to use her body and ignoring her the rest of the time.

"Ah I see. Well I am certain I've never been with a woman in my life good sir. Though it seems you are an authority on pleasing them. I find conversation to be the easiest way to get close to people, woman or not. Thought I fear I must take my leave."

She rose to find a great wind hit them both. Her hat blew off releasing her long brown locks to catch the wind. In one swift motion she caught it, stopping to glance at the look on Beaumont's face. He looked as though he'd been slapped. She smiled, her curls falling into her face. Her voice softened.

"Well Mister Beaumont it's been very nice meeting you. Next time I see a lady I'll be certain to keep all that in mind"

With that, she put her hat back on and walked towards the galley, her long hair swaying behind her.

Dexter noted the reactions of the young man he was talking to, remembering similar reactions himself to the many tales he heard not long after enlisting. Of course, he never had anyone explain things to him. He learned them through trial and error. It was slightly embarrassing at times, but then he lucked out with a few women who took the time to show him how to do things right. Because of that, he always kept an open mind when dealing with the intimacies involved with women.

Still, seeing the lad blush a bit almost made him laugh, but he had the good sense to remain outwardly calm. Still, the young fellow listened intently. Probably used to listening to lectures, Dexter thought. Still, the reaction to the last, and what Dexter thought was the most important revelation almost broke his facade.

"Ah I see. Well I am certain I've never been with a woman in my life good sir. Though it seems you are an authority on pleasing them. I find conversation to be the easiest way to get close to people, woman or not. Thought I fear I must take my leave."

"Oh, I agree, Lad. Talking to a women before anything more personal occurs is indeed a good thing too. You can help put her mind at ease, before talking to her of all manner of excitements that will help get her blood racing."

He sat back as he watched Amsel stand up. A gust of wind chose just them to hit the broadside of the ship hard, ripping the hat of the Lad's head. Dexter sat stunned for a moment as long, rich brown locks fell free of their constraints, and flapped in the wind. With what appeared to be practiced ease, the young woman caught her hat. When she looked at him, she smiled as if presented with a pleasant circumstance.

"Well Mister Beaumont it's been very nice meeting you. Next time I see a lady I'll be certain to keep all that in mind"

Dexter sat still, merely blinking at the retreating form of Professor Amsel's daughter as she disappeared below decks. His mouth opened and closed a few times, thoughts appearing and disappearing rapidly.

"Well, I hope she remembers it all when she looks in a mirror next." Dexter went bright red before he fell back onto the chair, laughing deeply and heartily. he clutched at his stomach as it started to hurt from the prolonged laughter. "Oh, dear Lord, what is the Professor going to say when he sees me next?"

He sat up gingerly. "Oh, what will Miss Amsel be like the next time we meet? That will be the more interesting meeting, I'll warrant that." He wiped his mouth with a hand, hiding the broad smile and partially embarrassed expression. "I also think I shall shave when I get back to my cabin." He chuckled to himself, shaking his head on occasion as he walked back to his cabin.

After wandering about the ship, she soon found the kitchen. A tall lanky fellow was doing prep work for dinner. He wiped the sweat from his brow onto his sleeve and went back to chopping vegetables. This man was obviously the cook or at least one of them. The skill with which he worked was phenomenal, beautiful even. After a bit she cleared her throat. He suddenly looked up frozen, before straightening up and smiling.

"I wasn't told there'd be ladies aboard this voyage or I would've attempted to appear less of a mess. Manners you know.

For a moment she'd forgotten herself. Here were the manners men showered upon her when she was seen as a female. It was almost refreshing considering the things she'd heard on deck from Beaumont. He wiped his hands on his apron and extended a hand to her which she happily shook.

"Paul Martin, pleased to meet you."

"Lily Amsel, the pleasure is all mine."

Her eyes moved over his prep table as her stomach grumbled.

"Well Miss Amsel, I didn't see you around for breakfast. So I'll assume you've had none. Worry not. There are some leftovers."

The man rummaged through a few containers on the counter. He added what appeared to be scrambled eggs, a bit of cooked potato and a few strips of bacon into a pan and left it there for a moment. When a crackle erupted from the pan he took it from the eye and stuffed the concoction into a large dinner roll. He handed her the concoction on a plate smiling.

"I know it's a bit informal, but you seem to be more than open minded."

She knew he meant her choice of clothing. Perhaps she'd wear those stupid things her father bought her if it meant the men would stop staring. She bit into the sandwich and it was as if someone had open the gates of heaven. Never had she tasted anything so magnificent. This man was like a god with a spatula. Lily devoured the sandwich as if she'd never eaten a single thing in her life and she almost mourned it when it was gone. When she'd snapped to reality, she handed Paul the plate.

"Thank you Mr. Martin, I think you shall see me around often."

He smiled.

"Well I'll be more than glad to have you around miss."

With that she drifted out of the kitchen and to the professor's quarter's. She knocked on the door.

"Come in my dear, we have a guest for tea."

Dexter wandered the passageways of the ship, moving towards the section where the passenger's cabins were. he was thinking about his encounter with Miss Amsel, cringing slightly at the knowledge he disclosed to a woman, rather than to the young man he thought he had been talking to.

"Mister Beaumont." Dexter turned to see Professor Amsel's head poking out a door. "Would you care to join me for a while, Mister Beaumont?"

Dexter had second thoughts about accepting the offer, but he couldn't turn down the offer without looking impolite. He walked into the cabin, immediately taken aback by the amount of equipment and luxuries within the cabin.

"Please, take a seat, Mister Beaumont."

"Thank you, Professor. But please, call be Dexter.Mister Beaumont makes me sound like I am in trouble for something."

"I gather than a man of your qualities, that would be a feeling you are well acquainted with." The professor chuckled merrily, then moved toward the kettle which was starting to boil. "And in that case, Dexter, call me Frederick. Professor makes me feel rather old."

Dexter sat down, watching the seemingly frail old man handle the kettle and teapot with confident ease. While the man appeared old, the eyes sparkled with a youthfulness normally found only in children. Dexter also suspected that the old man was as sharp as a tack. Dexter resisted the urge to help out, knowing that Frederick would be insulted by such generosity over a simple task such as carrying a tray.

"Now, I have managed to get a little reading done, and I now feel confident in the knowledge that someone like yourself will, unfortunately, be somewhat necessary to the success of this venture."

Dexter's eyebrows shot up. He gave the man a more intensive look, trying to peer underneath the outer layers and get a better idea of the man before him.

"There are hints, Dexter, that there may be people out there that will try and interfere with this mission. In most ungentlemanly ways. Which is why I think you will be needed, as you seem the kind of chap that can deal with such... ungentlemanly ways."

"Frederick, that is the most polite way I have ever been called a ruffian."

Frederick handed him a cup of fresh tea. "If I thought you were a ruffian, I would have called you one. No, the extent which the thieves went to secure their ill gotten gains suggests that they will be willing to employ violence whenever they so choice."

There was a knock at the door. The Professor called out without pausing the passage of his cup to his mouth. "Come in my dear, we have a guest for tea."

Dexter's own cup paused for a moment. He listened carefully as the door opened and the person entered. He heard the momentary hesitation, confirming that his suspicions were correct.

"Don't dawdle, close the door and join us. I was just having a word with Dexter about the task we have been set. Oh, do forgive me. Dexter Beaumont, this is my daughter, Lily Amsel. Lily, this Dexter. He will be helping to protect us on our journey."

"Frederick... Lily and I met earlier while up on deck. We had a bit of a talk before she went off in ... search of breakfast." Dexter fought hard to keep the colour out of his face. He was sure that the last thing Frederick wanted to know was the subject of Dexter's discussion with Lily. "I will admit, this will be the first time I have worked with a lady in the field. I just hope that she is willing to listen as well as the men are when the time comes. But I will treat her like I treat everyone else." Dexter kept his eyes on Frederick, but watched Lily out of the corners of his eyes.

Her jaw nearly dropped as she saw their guest. There sat the scoundrel from before sipping tea along side her father. She was hoping she could avoid him until they reached Rome. There were enough books, things to study. She need not see the sun for weeks unless she had to. Most women would stay inside with needlepoint. No, she was far more fascinated in anything she could learn. The universe was more beautiful than a bit of embroidery could ever be. Instead of delving into her books she'd have to have polite conversation with this insufferable man.

"Don't dawdle, close the door and join us. I was just having a word with Dexter about the task we have been set. Oh, do forgive me. Dexter Beaumont, this is my daughter, Lily Amsel. Lily, this Dexter. He will be helping to protect us on our journey."

She took off her hat and began walking towards the table. There was no escape now.

"Frederick... Lily and I met earlier while up on deck. We had a bit of a talk before she went off in ... search of breakfast."

Her cheeks felt the sting of blush as she took a seat. His words were still fresh in her mind and so were the images her imagination had brought her.

"I will admit, this will be the first time I have worked with a lady in the field. I just hope that she is willing to listen as well as the men are when the time comes. But I will treat her like I treat everyone else."

The professor smiled as he poured Lily a cup of tea.

"I wouldn't worry about her. She's more clever than most. Had she been a man she would've been able to attend university like she wanted, but she's more capable than most. I think I'd worry more about them not listening to her."

She gave Beaumont an almost angry glare while her father wasn't looking.

"Mister Beaumont you probably know why my father and I are here. I'm not entirely certain of what's going on myself, but I am curious about your presence. What exactly is it that you do sir?"

"It's just that to my understanding, this deals with artifacts and science. Something doesn't add up. I'm guessing that my father's been keeping things from me again."

Dexter sat back as Lily joined the two men at the table. He was starting to adjust his thinking from her being a him to being a her. The delicate features he noted before took on a slightly different taint, becoming features that were more appealing than when Dexter saw her as a man. It did, however start him thinking about how he saw things based on what he thought he was seeing, rather than what he was actually seeing.

"I wouldn't worry about her. She's more clever than most. Had she been a man she would've been able to attend university like she wanted, but she's more capable than most. I think I'd worry more about them not listening to her."

"Hmmppfff." The softly sounded snort reflected his current process of mental adjustment. He looked up in time to catch a withering look from Lily while the Professor's attention was focused away from the two of them. Dexter couldn't help but smile childishly at Lily's look, bringing his cup up to mask his smile from the Professor.

"Mister Beaumont you probably know why my father and I are here. I'm not entirely certain of what's going on myself, but I am curious about your presence. What exactly is it that you do sir?

"It's just that to my understanding, this deals with artifacts and science. Something doesn't add up. I'm guessing that my father's been keeping things from me again."

"That's simple, Miss Amsel, I stop the bad guys from hurting the people on the expedition. Yes, I know there are a number of rather mean looking Royal Marines aboard, along with some capable lads from the Royal Navy too, but their job is to protect the ship when the bad guys make their moves. But when we're on the ground, I'm all that stands between you, the collective group, and the nasty fellows that will want to stop us."

"I hope that you wont be needed in that capacity, Dexter. We will be keeping to more civilized parts of the world."

"Frederick, I hope so too. But there will be people out there that will try and do nasty things to us because we're strangers, visitors or just the wrong people in the wrong place at the wrong time. Plus, since we have a lady in our midst, some places there will be an added element of danger involved." Dexter paused to give Lily a thorough look over. "And in Lily's case, that could be a real possibility too." He glanced back to the Professor. "But when in Egypt, be sure to keep an open mind on any offers for her. I suspect that she'd fetch a good price."

Dexter took another sip of his tea before placing the cup back on the saucer on the table. "Just because it's all about artifacts and science doesn't mean there is no danger involved. I'll wager safe money with anyone that this expedition will go out into the actual field at some stage rather than just poking around libraries, museums and private collections. When that happens, that's when things will get rather exciting."

"That's simple, Miss Amsel, I stop the bad guys from hurting the people on the expedition. Yes, I know there are a number of rather mean looking Royal Marines aboard, along with some capable lads from the Royal Navy too, but their job is to protect the ship when the bad guys make their moves. But when we're on the ground, I'm all that stands between you, the collective group, and the nasty fellows that will want to stop us."

Her father had been keeping things from her. The way he'd put it, it was like a trip with work thrown in. She'd always wanted to do field work, but her father had suggested that it was dangerous. Why then, would he agree to this? Atleast one thing was clear. Beaumont had to be skilled, otherwise no one would have put up with the likes of him. He was their bodyguard and there was no avoiding him now.

"I hope that you wont be needed in that capacity, Dexter. We will be keeping to more civilized parts of the world."

"Frederick, I hope so too. But there will be people out there that will try and do nasty things to us because we're strangers, visitors or just the wrong people in the wrong place at the wrong time. Plus, since we have a lady in our midst, some places there will be an added element of danger involved."

She cringed. Could he go five minutes without being loathsome? Already he was suggesting that her coming along would be troublesome for the team. Why would her being a woman endanger them? Perhaps if she remained in men's clothes no one would notice. She hated that things were this way there was no need to rub her nose in it. At this rate her father would have her wait with the ship. She wouldn't have it!

"And in Lily's case, that could be a real possibility too."

Blush stained her cheeks. Had he just suggested that she was attractive? No, he was probably suggesting she'd be difficult. That had to be what he thought.

"But when in Egypt, be sure to keep an open mind on any offers for her. I suspect that she'd fetch a good price."

She bit her tongue. Marriage to an Egyptian for money? The very idea made her blood boil. She had no time for such a thing. Nor did she desire to be kept on someone's arm like a pet. It made her stomach turn in knots.

"Just because it's all about artifacts and science doesn't mean there is no danger involved. I'll wager safe money with anyone that this expedition will go out into the actual field at some stage rather than just poking around libraries, museums and private collections. When that happens, that's when things will get rather exciting."

"Well I am glad that we have someone so skilled watching out for us. However you need not worry about me finding a husband, because I won't be getting married. "

The professor frowned. His face said it all. He wanted her looked after and cared for when he was no longer around, but she would never be suited for anyone. He could not arrange a marriage for her. She wouldn't act as a wife, probably outright refuse it. He'd be forever shamed.

Lily sipped her tea staring at Beaumont again. Why would such a man choose this life?

"Speaking of marriage, why aren't you married Mister Beaumont?"

Dexter was starting to wonder how much trouble Lily was going to be on the expedition. He was used to some of the younger upper class men who thought they could ignore him. They were easily dealt with by the simple application of brute force. He was more than enough of a brute to do it if the need arose. But doing the same to a young woman? Dexter wasn't sure how to deal with that.

In all the banter, he managed to see Lily's cheeks go red when he complimented her on her appearance. When he took the time to look at her as a woman, she did have a very pleasing face. Of course, the rest of her figure had been obscured by the choice of clothing, so he would bide his time before passing judgment on the rest of her.

"Well I am glad that we have someone so skilled watching out for us. However you need not worry about me finding a husband, because I won't be getting married."

Dexter had almost spat his tea out when she commented on not getting married. He looked at the Professor, who gave him a look that told him that the girl's father knew of the old running joke. But Lily's declaration seemed to touch a sore spot in the older man. Dexter wanted to find out more, but his manners held him in check.

"Speaking of marriage, why aren't you married Mister Beaumont?"

"Mainly because I have not met the right woman, Lily. It takes a rare kind of woman to fall for a fellow like me, considering the type of work I do. What, with all the travel, and the danger involved with this line of work. But, I have gotten to see some rather interesting parts of the world. I've also met some rather interesting people too. Some of whom have taken a liking to me." He glanced sideways at Lily, remembering the crux of their initial conversation. Waiting until his momentary embarrassment passed, he turned to give Lily a speculative look. "Since it was good enough for me to answer, it's your turn, Miss Amsel. Why aren't you wanting to get married?"

"Mainly because I have not met the right woman, Lily. It takes a rare kind of woman to fall for a fellow like me, considering the type of work I do. What, with all the travel, and the danger involved with this line of work. But, I have gotten to see some rather interesting parts of the world. I've also met some rather interesting people too. Some of whom have taken a liking to me."

There was something about him calling her by her first name that made her feel strange. She had not given him permission to call her that, but he'd taken it upon himself to act as if they were that acquainted. It did make sense though. It would difficult to be married if one was constantly traveling.

"Since it was good enough for me to answer, it's your turn, Miss Amsel. Why aren't you wanting to get married?"

She nearly choked from his question. How could she even begin to explain?

"I should think that part of it is obvious. I only know how to be myself Mister Beaumont, and look at me. What sort of man would have me as I am? Studying and doing research. To most I would be considered a freak of nature and unnatural. That is only the half of it."

She drained the cup.

"Why would I give away the things I love most to be someone's glorified pet. The very idea is disgusting. Romance is a myth. It's just a nice way of feeling better about being joined with some fool that demands nightly perversions and children. I wouldn't waste my time on such pursuits. I won't be made to sacrifice myself and everything I am just so some man can feel better about himself."

She looked him dead in the face.

"I don't need someone to be happy. I'm fine on my own."

Dexter felt slightly sorry for the startled reaction of his question, but he wanted to put her on the spot like she had done to him.

"I should think that part of it is obvious. I only know how to be myself Mister Beaumont, and look at me. What sort of man would have me as I am? Studying and doing research. To most I would be considered a freak of nature and unnatural. That is only the half of it."

"Few men would have you as you are now. They would think you a freak because you behave like one."

"Why would I give away the things I love most to be someone's glorified pet. The very idea is disgusting. Romance is a myth. It's just a nice way of feeling better about being joined with some fool that demands nightly perversions and children. I wouldn't waste my time on such pursuits. I won't be made to sacrifice myself and everything I am just so some man can feel better about himself."

He faced her glare without flinching.

"I don't need someone to be happy. I'm fine on my own."

Dexter leaned forward, resting his elbows on the table, putting his full attention on Lily.

"You're anything but fine on your own. You have a child's outlook on life, rather than an adult's. I will admit getting caught in the trap of how you are dressed. I saw male clothes, and I assumed that you were male. Thanks to you, I have learned a valuable lesson. Applying that lesson, I can see that in fact you are a rather striking looking woman, or at least you have the potential to be. The only measure of you being a freak is the manner in which you dress.

"I am not a learned man by any stretch of the word, but there have been women who have done great work in the sciences, openly too. So it is not that bad, as long as you declare yourself right up front. Plus, if you start wearing dresses, you'd be surprised at how many people would actually talk to you, and get to know you.

"Your knowledge of romance is practically nil, Miss Amsel. If you manage to find some upper class husband, then yes you would be a glorified pet, or some other living bauble. Since I guess that you haven't even kissed a man, your ideas of what romance is about is very wrong. The knowledge of someone loving you is a great thing. It builds one up, gives them strength in tough times. And don't even start with the 'nightly perversions'. Making love is one of God's greatest gifts to man. A good many people find that those 'nightly perversions' are in fact something wonderful that they long to share with that special someone."

Dexter stood up so fast that the chair almost fell backward. He slid out from between the chair and table, roughly shoving the chair in. He turned to face the Professor, who had been looking at the painting on the china. "I'm sorry, Professor Amsel. Forgive my outburst. I'll be going now before I do any more harm." He turned to look at Lily. "Miss Amsel." He bowed slightly, and left their cabin.

He paused outside his own cabin, looking back to where he came from, before forcibly opening the door, and closing it with a loud bang.

"Dexter, old boy, where on earth did that come from? Why get so worked up over some young woman's beliefs over marriage?" He walked over to the mirror, noting the roughness about his jaw. "Or was it the 'nightly perversions', and her obvious distaste concerning them? Lord knows, I like a good 'nightly perversion' or two." He rubbed his jaw, feeling the bristle of the new beard growing. "And the Italian women I know are so good at the 'nightly perversions' too."

He stared at himself for a few seconds, then burst out laughing. "Nightly perversions indeed."

Her eyes widened at his words. She had not expected him to respond. What she was hearing made her feel as though she was being scolded. He was far more unpredictable than she him credit for.


"You're anything but fine on your own. You have a child's outlook on life, rather than an adult's. I will admit getting caught in the trap of how you are dressed. I saw male clothes, and I assumed that you were male. Thanks to you, I have learned a valuable lesson. Applying that lesson, I can see that in fact you are a rather striking looking woman, or at least you have the potential to be. The only measure of you being a freak is the manner in which you dress."


There was no doubt about it now. Beneath his harsh words he'd admitted that he did indeed find her attractive. No one but her father had ever even suggested that she might be pretty. What did he know about manner of dress? Women's clothes were so uncomfortable at times and very impractical for work.

"I am not a learned man by any stretch of the word, but there have been women who have done great work in the sciences, openly too. So it is not that bad, as long as you declare yourself right up front. Plus, if you start wearing dresses, you'd be surprised at how many people would actually talk to you, and get to know you."

These women were rare though, and what difference should it make what she wore? No one but the professor had seen her dress like a female, since she was very young. None of it mattered though. He was right, and it made her ill to even think about it. If all it took was a change of garments to make people like her, it made her uncomfortable to think of what people it could attract.

"Your knowledge of romance is practically nil, Miss Amsel. If you manage to find some upper class husband, then yes you would be a glorified pet, or some other living bauble. Since I guess that you haven't even kissed a man, your ideas of what romance is about is very wrong. The knowledge of someone loving you is a great thing. It builds one up, gives them strength in tough times. And don't even start with the 'nightly perversions'. Making love is one of God's greatest gifts to man. A good many people find that those 'nightly perversions' are in fact something wonderful that they long to share with that special someone."

There were words she longed to say but found she could not put him together. No one had ever kissed her. No one. It was a thought she often forced out of her mind, knowing it was something she may never have in her lifetime. What did he know of love anyway. With the amount of women he's probably known, he couldn't have loved all of them.

"I'm sorry, Professor Amsel. Forgive my outburst. I'll be going now before I do any more harm."

Her jaw dropped as he left. The professor looked at her, with a look of deep disappointment.

"I didn't know how little you knew about these things. I have left you ill equipt. I think it's best you went to your quarters now."

She knew better than to protest and slowly she stood up, and left the room. Soon she'd returned to her quarters. It looked even more feminine than usual in the light. Lily locked the door and began removing her clothing. She'd wrapped her chest too tightly. When she was young, it had worked like a charm, but now her breasts had become troublesome. Her eyes drifted over the soft flesh, thinking deeply. Was this what men like Beaumont liked? She nearly cursed herself for such a thought.

She opened the wardrobe to look over the dresses again. It was time she apologized to the professor, in the only way she knew to. Layer after layer of clothing she put on before slipping on a white lace trimmed dress. She sat at the vanity, brushing her hair thoroughly. There was a hairstyle she'd seen in her books. Perhaps he'd like that. She pulled back her curls into a simple bun, but a few pieces of hair would slip free from their constraint to frame her face perfectly. Perhaps this would satisfy them.

Frederick sat silently as Lily left his cabin. He felt a stab of disappointment in himself for his failings as a father. But he was pragmatic enough to know that there was little he could do about changing what had happened, and he had to focus on the present and future.

"But she is a grown woman now. She will learn what she needs to know by herself, and with the help of others." He eased himself out of his chair, walking unsteadily to his study desk. He sat down gingerly, resettling his glasses. He started looking at the numerous drawings of the Etruscan Urn that was stolen. He was impressed at the dedication to accuracy of the artist's work, right down to the fine cracks in the urn. He studied the pictures, noting that the artwork was of fine quality. He assumed that the owner of the urn must have been rich, or powerful, to have owned such a piece of artwork.

He spent the better part of five hours looking from the artwork, to reference material. Nothing about the Urn's design, nor art, was unusual or out of place. Further more, he saw nothing that was particularly significant or even occult in nature. Apart from the cultural value, there was no other reason for the theft.

He took a break, napping on his sofa. He slept soundly until he hear a knocking on his cabin door. "Uuuh? Oh, I fell asleep." He raised his voice to be heard through the door. "One moment! I'm on my way to the door."


When Dexter rolled up his weapon duffel, he was happy with the state of all his weapons. All of them were clean, and nothing was too worn. All the blades were sharp, and the ammunition for the weapons was stored in the proper places. Even his most trusted weapon, the Webley revolver, was in perfect working order. He was set for any trouble that came his way.

As long as the trouble was not Lily Amsel. He continued to ponder his feelings and reactions to the woman on the expedition while he shaved. She was a member of the expedition, whether he thought it was a good idea or not was not relevant at that time. After the first time they got into trouble, then it might be relevant. He cleaned the razor after a pass of his cheek. He didn't lie when he said that she had the potential to look striking. Added to that was strength of her beliefs. She was willing to fight for what she thought, which made her so much different to the women he normally met. He smiled, remembering how much fight they had, but it was different, more playful even alluring. Lily was one who fought to win a battle.

"Somehow, I see her like a rapier. Delicate in appearance, but deadly in function. Well, there is steel hidden under those clothes, that's for sure." He removed the last of the lather, and whiskers from his face, then turned his attentions to his neck. The young woman was very inexperienced in dealing with men, and he suspected dealing with her own emotions. He paused, half his neck clean, thinking about how that might impact her reactions in a dangerous situation. His shrug manifested in his eyebrows, and he finished off shaving. He washed his face, looking at the cleaner version of himself in the mirror.

"Don't even think about it, Dex. She'll be more trouble than it's worth. Also, we don't want to cause trouble for the expedition now, do we?" He straightened up, then grinned in a boyish manner. "Well, no more than usual."

After a few hours of reading, a knock came to the door.

"Lily...it's time for supper, thought I'd...let you know."

There was disappointment in the professor's voice. He still sounded troubled.

"Go on without me, I'll be down in a moment."

With a final check in the mirror, she left the room. She did not know that she was a vision in white, or that many men on deck had stopped dead in their tracks to stare as she walked towards the dining room. There were a few tables set up and she soon found herself patting her father on the shoulder. The old man smiled and cleaned his glasses upon seeing her dressed up. He seemed to be checking to see that it wasn't a dream. She was far too focused on her father to notice the men staring. They looked as though they'd seen an angel. She took a seat at her father's table, as people piled in for the evening meal. Off in the distance she could see Mister Beaumont walking toward the dining area. The cook was quickly serving soup and bread to the hungry crew.

"Lily, you look lovely." her father said softly.

"Oh thank you."

He looked as though he might cry. She'd wanted to look nice. Perhaps she'd done too good of a job. The cook soon arrived with the soup and the bread. It smelled wonderful. What she didn't realize was that at one point the cook had dropped his ladle from the shock and had to fish it out of the pot after disappearing into the kitchen. Her mind was still fixed on what Beaumont had said before. Even her father had agreed that she was incorrect. The last thing she wanted was to see him gloat over this, but strangely enough, Beaumont was nowhere to be seen. Where had he disappeared off to?

Dexter made sure that he was looking respectable when it was time to have dinner with the crew. He was thinking of what possible troubles they might encounter in Rome. There were the usual ruffians they might encounter, but he couldn't think of anything that could be related to what they were doing. They would probably be the run of the mill thugs, but he couldn't be sure.

While being deep in thought, Dexter took a couple of wrong turns and ended up going away from the galley. He shook his head, snorted his breath and headed back in the proper direction. When he got there, the normal hustle and bustle of the galley was subdued. Dexter was immediately on edge, expecting trouble. He saw the professor, and took a step towards his table and stopped. Along with the rest of the crew of first sighting, Dexter was surprised to see Lily. In a dress.

His thoughts ran in parallel. One track was the professional side. Those thoughts focused around her appearance, and the attention that it get. He also easily assessed the possible threats generated by her appearance. Running interference would counter most of those, and the rest would be dealt with in the appropriate manner. Still, she could dress a little less feminine when out in the field, it would help reduce the scope of the threat, as well as increasing the chances of keeping her safe.

The more personal track was awash with lurid thoughts full of what he could do with her in a more private situation. His initial assessment of her being striking was right on the money, and he wasn't sure if that was a good thing or not. Given how well they had gotten on to that point, he thought his chances of getting any closer to her was practically nil. Knowing how excellent she looked was going to be rather tormenting until he got himself sorted out.

He took the extra moments to get himself composed, and thread his way past the other equally stunned males in the room and approach his table. It took all his effort to not open stare at Lily when he got closer, but he couldn't hide his appreciative look as he took his seat.

"Gentlemen. Miss Amsel." He swallowed a little louder than he would have liked to move the lump that was growing in his throat. He started to wonder if she was aware of the impact her appearance was having on everyone who could see her. Something told him she had little to no idea. He let that matter rest as it was not his problem.

He waited for the soup to be served, thanking the man as he passed along. Out of the corner of his eye, Dexter could easily tell that the cook was taking further looks at Lily. The cook's face made it clear that he liked what he saw.

"Maybe it is my problem now," Dexter muttered under his breath as he leaned down to smell the soup.

"Hey, this is not too bad for Navy fare. Better than anything I got when I was in the Army." He took a look at the other expedition members, mainly to help calm down his thoughts about Lily. "We should be in Rome sometime tomorrow. Do we have anything to work with yet? Anyone we can talk to perhaps?" He took a spoonful of soup, enjoying the taste more than he suspected he would. "Don't mind me, I'm just the hired help, but I am a little curious so I can start thinking about how I will look after everyone."

The soup was amazing. What sort of witchcraft was Mister Martin up to? Nothing ever made her think of food as an art, but this man was truly an artist. Her eyes shifted to Beaumont as he took a seat. He cleaned up better than she thought he was capable of. It was a wonder the difference a change of clothes and a shave made sometimes. He could almost pass as a gentleman. It was a shame that he wasn't. He'd be handsome if he wasn't so terrible. She knew a stupid man when she saw one. He wasn't one of those people. That much was certain. She hoped he wouldn't draw attention to the silly dress she was wearing. He had said himself, that it was what she should do to be accepted. It would have been better if she'd stuck to her old clothes. They were far more comfortable, but she loved her father more than being selfish.

"Hey, this is not too bad for Navy fare. Better than anything I got when I was in the Army."

She smiled. It was good to know that she wasn't alone in her appreciation of the food. Perhaps she'd come back some other time to see if Mr. Martin would share his cooking secrets.

"We should be in Rome sometime tomorrow. Do we have anything to work with yet? Anyone we can talk to perhaps?"

He was probably looking forward to arriving in Rome for many reasons. He probably wanted the company of women. Every now and then she had to remind herself that he was horrible. He was horrible for making her think impure thoughts, and being a womanizer. Yet he'd proven her theories incorrect at tea. Even her father agreed with him. She wasn't used to being wrong.

"Don't mind me, I'm just the hired help, but I am a little curious so I can start thinking about how I will look after everyone."

"Mister Beaumont does bring up a point. What are our plans once we make port?"