Summary: A.U.- Rizzoli & Isles on the High Seas.

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A/N: In this Alternate Universe, Dover is too tiny to strictly adhere to class divisions. Men of the upper crust can occasionally lift a pint at an ale house. Merchants and clergy have been allowed to be members of the local coffeehouse and sailors, solders, bakers, bookmakers and traders pass through taverns, boarding houses and coffeehouses regularly.

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Two Orphans.

RIRIRI

Dover, England North Street Coffeehouse AKA Dover Salon

"She shares your love of numbers. Her father told me she is very accomplished in Latin, Algebra, and other academic pursuits. Please join her for tea; the boys and I will fetch you."

Her Uncle's words echoed in Jane's ears briefly. She followed the blonde into the two story mortar and grey-brick structure. A cement placard on the front declared "North Street Coffeehouse: Members' Entrance".

Maura waved at the door steward, an intimidating bear-like man. "Hobbes, Miss Rizzoli and I will be joined by her family later. Please show Master Korsak and the Rizzoli brothers to my usual table. My lady's maid, Susie, will accompany them."

Jane surveyed the coffeehouse. It was light and airy, the walls painted a pale shade of taupe green. Four overhead chandeliers had mirrors to reflect the light from their candles. Cheval glass stands spaced along the walls echoed and enhanced the light as well.

The furnishings, Late Baroque in design, were light oaks, blonde colored. A long faux-oriental sideboard held finger foods under a glass dome cover. Brewed coffee and tea scented the air.

The guest tables were scattered in a figure eight pattern, allowing the customers and servers room to move from one to another. Cocooned in the far corners were small two and three-cushioned settees flanked by side tables.

The tall brunette took a seat opposite Maura. "Have you heard or read Maria Gaetana Agnesi's book Instituzioni analitiche ad uso della gioventù italiana? "

"Miss Rizzoli, I have read excerpts from the French printing of it. Unfortunately, the printing is limited." Maura laughed in a restrained, self-conscious, manner. "The Parisian Salons are very taken with her explanation of Isaac Newton's and Gottfried Von Leibniz's equations. Her discussion of calculus is elegant. I understand she intended it to assist her younger brothers in understanding the concepts and application of mathematics...whereas texts of this nature are normally written in Latin.. "

Jane injected. "Lady Fairfield, it is lucky we met. I have the Italian copies of both volumes."

The blonde gleefully commented "I feel very fortunate. You are generous to allow me to review them. Your English is excellent. Did your tutor insist you eradicate your accent?"

The tall woman played with her shawl as she spoke. "My accent? I think it is there, but muddled. My parents spoke English and French; they and Uncle taught us. Father desired that my brothers have a broad education. I had no tutor. My brothers were taught Latin and Mathematics by the monks in our village. They learned how to read and write in Latin, but do not get many opportunities to practice. Our crew is mostly Spanish. I understand it and speak a little of it."

Maura commented dryly. "Your Father is most enlightened in regard to the education of his offspring."

"My parents have passed away. My brothers and Uncle are my only remaining family."

"How sad to have lost your parents. Yet providence did stand by you; you have brothers and an uncle." The blonde responded.

Jane enthusiastically agreed. "Ah yes, I am blessed. I have them and a ship, and we have the stars to sail by."

"Ut haec ipsa qui non sentiat deorum vim habere is nihil omnino sensurus esse videatur. If any man cannot feel the power of God when he looks upon the stars, then I doubt whether he is capable of any feeling at all." Maura reassured.

Jane smiled and relaxed into her seat "You quote Cicero or Horace I think."

Maura tittered "In truth it is one of my father's treasured quotes. Yes one or the other, but which I cannot say, and Father he has said it so often, I dare say he may think it is his own."

Jane's eyes danced in amusement. "Uncle is the same. Carpe Diem, quam minimum credula postero he blusters often, as if he thought of it. "Pluck the day, putting as little trust as possible in tomorrow!"

The blonde responded "Men of a certain age are similar. It matters not where they come from."

A buxom, silver-haired, matronly woman weaved her way through the tables, arriving at the Italian woman's back. She spoke softly. "Miss Rizzoli, The boots for your brothers and uncle are ready. When will your men-folk be available to try them on?"

Jane responded briskly. "Mistress Patterson, I will have the three of them to your shop tomorrow."

"And for yourself Miss Rizzoli, are you sure you only need your footwear resoled? I have split grain leather as well as top grain leather that you may consider." Mistress Patterson rejoined.

A red-headed women called out from a neighboring table. "Millicent Patterson, there you are. Hello Miss Rizzoli, how are you? Millicent, come sit with us." The red-head indicated her table where two other women of similar dress and age sat.

Turning to face the red-haired woman, Jane replied. "I am well, Mistress Stevens, and yourself?"

"I'm as fine as a spring rain. Will you play the harpsichord for us? I think your rendition of Purcell's Lilliburlero is uplifting." Mistress Stevens requested.

"I don't see the harpsichord present, and I would rather not trouble the proprietor." Jane returned, a faint blush coloring her checks.

Maura teased. "Jane, may I call you Jane? The ladies appear to be devotees of the harpsichord; far be it from me to deprive them of your playing. If you know it, perhaps you could play an Irish tune for me: Maggie Laidir?"

The older red-headed woman disclosed. "Er Lady Fairfield, you're as Irish as I am. Your father, a grand man though he is, is only the second son of Phillipps, an Irish whiskey maker. He inherited no lands in Ireland, only a title. You're still more English than Irish."

"One could say I'm French considering my father did marry a French woman, Constance Pernod. But why argue, Mistress Stevens?"

Millicent Patterson contended. "Rosaleen McCullough Stevens, Miss Rizzoli and Lady Fairfield were enjoying a lively discussion before I interrupted them." The silver-haired woman glided to the table of her friends.

"Aye, that they were. Talking about Mathematics, speaking in Latin; it was very lively. Overhearing it by chance, I found it to be… how can I say this? As lively as your discussion of your twin daughters' births." Squabbled Rosaleen Stevens.

Jane turned back to her table mate whispering, "Elle est une provocateuse, oui?"

Smiling and nodding her head, Maura whispered. "Indeed. Shall we look at the dishes on the sideboard?

The tall woman rose from her seat and weaved her way over to the faux oriental sideboard.

Maura followed, her voice laced with scorn. "Jane, Dover, despite being a port town, has a village persona. My father and mother's marriage is oft the grain of the gossip's grist mill, even now, some twenty-eight years later. The Irish grandson of Sir Thomas Phillips married an older woman, a French widow. Such a pity that a fine lad bound for the church fell into the evil snarl of a French woman."

Voicing her disbelief, Jane asked. "Your father was going to be a priest?"

"I'm not sure; maybe yes, maybe no. On a family trip to visit our French relations, he met Constance. The two married and thus the rumors abound."

Pausing, Jane inquired. "Why do you call your mother Constance?"

"Ah, now this you will find amusing. I was adopted by my parents. I am, in fact, the great- niece of my father. It is a quirk of being part of a large, extended family. My father's great uncle, Patrick, had a common-law wife who bore him a girl child: me. My birth mother died. My parents had no children and they adopted me. So I am very Irish, twice over, my birth parents and my father.

Jane declared "You are amazing, Maura Isles Fairfield. You find it amusing to be a "bastardo"?

"Jane, I am legally the child of Richard and Constance Isles. According to the Catholic Church, I am a foundling, an orphan who was taken in by the Isles."

"Uncle was correct; we do have much in common."

"Oh, Jane, my full name is Lady Maura Dorothea Isles Fairfield. You may, however, call me Maura. After all, we orphans have a shared interest. What will the local merchants gossip about without us?"

RI

End Notes

A heart felt Thanks to my beta Reader Sybilia more like co-author. Thanks to Colleen Thomas:
although no longer with us, her stories are a joy to read. Her guide on how to write a period piece inestimable.

CICERO 106-43 B.C.E. Timaeus 99 The Power of God
If any man cannot feel the power of God when he looks upon the stars, then I doubt whether he is capable of any feeling at all."
HORACE 65-8 BCE Carpe diem. (Odes: I.11)

Elle est une provocateuse, oui?" She is a provocateuse, yes?" Female version of antagonizer