Part 30 (2/2)
I rose to my feet 'cause it was my own stupid fault that this happened, and I pushed Rebecca back down in her seat and said, ”Begging your pardon, Mistress, but it was not her fault as I was playing the fool with her.” Not waiting for an invite, I marched up the aisle, went around Mistress's desk, and flopped down upon it, my skirts up and my face looking out to the cla.s.s. It occurs to me that this is what the crowd must look like to those poor sods strapped to the guillotine.
Mistress raised her rod and gave me four and then I returned to my seat. Strange thing, though-Mistress did not hit me hard. It was as if she pulled back on each blow just before it landed. Although it made me wince and I had to snuffle back tears of humiliation as I went back to my seat, the beating did not hurt at all. Strange, that.
Rebecca looked at me with absolute wors.h.i.+p in her eyes, and at supper that evening she left her table and came and sat with Amy and me. Then we were joined by Dolley and Martha, who gave my shoulder a squeeze as she sat down.
The winter does wane and the Sisterhood does increase.
I've even been doing some decent needlework. I've worked for some days on the edges of a silk pillow slip, embroidering it with intertwined roses and briars, and a few blue anchors thrown in for good measure. I wonder, as I do the st.i.tching, whether Jaimy's head will ever lie next to mine upon this pillowcase.
Nothing, nothing from Jaimy.
Chapter 37.
James Emerson Fletcher, Mids.h.i.+pman
On Board HMS Ess.e.x
January 25, 1804
Jacky Faber
The Lawson Peabody School for Young Girls
Beacon Street, Boston, Ma.s.sachusetts, USA
Dear Jacky, At least I know that you are not dead, and that is some comfort to me. There was a new group of sailors brought on board the Ess.e.x yesterday and one of them was lately come from the Excalibur. I later overheard him regaling his fellows on the fo'c'sle with an account of a girl in Boston racing seasoned seamen through the Excalibur's top rigging. I knew it could be none other than you, my wild and foolish girl. I have chosen not to believe their tale of the girl taking off her dress and diving into the water, and attribute that to the sailors' love of tall tales.
That is the only news of you that I have gotten since we parted. I exchange letters quite often with my mother and she informs me with each letter that I have received nothing from you and I am cast down into darkness each time she so informs me.
Why, if you were on the Excalibur for your sport, why did you not send me a letter by her? I know you to be many things, Jacky, but cruel and hard-hearted and indifferent are not among them. You must tell me why you are treating me so.
I throw myself into my studies to try and get you out of my mind, but I am never completely successful. I shall be testing for lieutenant within the year, but it will be a hollow honor if I succeed.
We keep the French fleet bottled up here, with endless patrols back and forth, back and forth across the mouth of the bay, but they've got to come out eventually, and when they do, well, maybe a cannonball will cure my black despair.
Please write, Jacky, if only to tell me I am no longer in your heart. I am desolate.
Your most humble, Jaimy
Chapter 38.
Spring!
By G.o.d it's finally spring! Spring, when a poor girl can poke her head out of her cloak without fear of it bein' frozen off at the neck! Spring so long in comin', oh, cruel winter would just not let go, oh no, he wouldn't! Then suddenly one day the clouds of winter broke and the heat was on the land and the snow patches melted and shrunk and slunk away and then were gone and incredibly there's a green blush on the gra.s.s and by G.o.d, it's spring! Hooray!
I dance up the path to the stables and say to Henry, ”My horse, Henry, my horse! For it is spring and it is Sat.u.r.day and no one is lookin' and I have my fine riding habit on and I will ride wild and free and I will go downtown and I will-”
”Please calm down, Miss Faber,” says Henry. He goes and gets Gretchen and puts the sidesaddle on her and will not hear of any other. ”You're a lady again and you will ride sidesaddle or you will not ride at all.”
I think I catch a glimpse of Sylvie's skirt disappearing around a corner of the stable. Ah, 'tis spring and everyone's thoughts turn to those of love.
”And I shan't ride till you call me Jacky again, Henry, I won't.”
”All right, Jacky. Up you go.”
And I'm up and off!
Gretchen and I thunder across the Common and I can feel her beneath me and I know that she is just as glad to get out as me and she fairly kicks up her heels and we go crazily rollicking across the land, hallooing as we go and making general fools of ourselves until we pull up at the dear old Pig and I slide off.
”What's the good word, Maudie?” says I, as I enter and pull back my cloak. I revel in the feel and the look of the maroon riding jacket and I know I am committing the sin of pride, but right now I don't care. It is spring and I think I can be forgiven.
”Death and taxes, dear,” says Maudie, full of cheer as usual. I survey the half-empty house and reflect that it ain't as good for Maudie and Bob as when Gully and I played the house, but it ain't as bad as it was before. They'll get by.
”It is our own dear Puck, Mr. Fennel, and looking especially fine!”
”She is indeed, Mr. Bean! A gla.s.s of wine with you, dear Puck!”
I spy the two rogues sitting at a table by the fire. Though 'tis spring, there's still a nip in the air. I go over to them and Mr. Fennel pulls out a chair and I sit down.
”A cup of tea will be fine, Maudie, thanks,” says I. ”What's the news?” It's plain that they are quite pleased with themselves about something.
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