I'm carried, still kicking, along the hall and down the stairway to the servants' area. "A bucket of water, if you would, Mrs. Moody," Higgins asks of Peg, "a bucket of very cold water."
The water is put in the bucket and then my head is put in the water. I gasp at the coldness of it. "But, Higgins," I plead, pulling my head back out, "she called my mother a—"
Higgins's hand gently but firmly pushes my head back down into the frigid water. "Sometimes, Miss, you act your age and sometimes you do not. You know who your mother was and you know what she was. Which was a fine, spirited young lady. What Miss Howe says should make absolutely no difference to you. You know that."
"But—"
"But, Miss, if you continue to play her game, she will win, count on it. Did you notice how she stood there, her hands at her sides when you charged in righteous fury?"
I thought on that and had to admit it was true. It was very unlike Clarissa not to fight back.
"I believe she had every intention," Higgins continued, "to stand there and let you beat upon her unresisting person in front of witnesses until you were pulled away and certainly expelled from the school. Or at the least, made serving girl again."
With the water dripping from my face, I had to realize the wisdom of his words. With a sigh I gave up the struggle, then said, "All right, Higgins. I'll be good now. I promise. I'll let her alone."
"Oh, you do not have to leave her alone, Miss," said Higgins with a slight smile, "just you play your own game, and not hers. Now let's get you towelled off and back to class"
And so it was that I went to Music with my wet hair stuffed up under a maid's mobcap to stand at my place next to the smug Clarissa and I was good. I can't remember what it was we sang that day, but I think it had something to do with the brotherhood of all mankind.
I smile grimly at the memory of that day, and my quill goes back into the inkwell...
Having Higgins back with me has been such a godsend, Jaimy, I cannot tell you just how much. I had been sinking into the slough of despond over the loss of so many of our friends, but he has brought me back to cheerfulness. His spirited telling of little Georgie Piggott's recovery amidst adoring young females who have named him Our Hero and the Lion of Trafalgar and crowned him with laurels did much to restore my spirits. Our departed friends? I must hark back to Liam's advice on the Dolphin when we lost Benjy—you grieve for a proper time for your mates, then you've got to let them go. And so I have. Amen.
And then there's the Lawson Peabody Girls Chorus. After having ourselves whipped into fine musical shape by both Signor Fracelli and Hepzibah Van Pelt, we have been going about and giving concerts in various places round the town, only the finest and most proper of houses, to be sure—the Saltonstalls', the Lowells', a few Cabot mansions here and there, the Thwackhams', the de Lises'...
Ah, yes, the house of the de Lise ... again my quill lifts from the paper ... That was something when we performed at Lissette's place and were treated to tea and cakes after we sang in the comte's elegant hall, with Clarissa acting like she owned the place, she having stayed there so many weekends. Yes, and then Lissette's father, the Comte de Lise, himself, French consul to New England, singled me out and introduced himself to me. Startled, I dropped into a curtsy, the elegance of which I am sure was ruined by me having half a piece of cake in my hand and the other half in my mouth. I managed to sputter out an enchanté, probably spewing crumbs on the poor man as I said it. I held out my hand, the one that didn't have the cake in it, and he bowed over my hand and kissed the back of it and said, "Pardon, Mademoiselle, but the most amazing coincidence. I have received word from France of a female pirate captain named the same as you, Jac-kee Fay-bear ... La belle jeune fille sans merci, she is called..." I choked down the cake and replied, "But, Monsieur, how could that be? A woman as captain of a ship, mais non, jamais ... never...," but he continued to look me over carefully and then said, "My Lissette, she has talked often of you ... she has said you have had many adventures ... ah, pardon, you seem to have a speck above your eye...," and before I could jerk back, he had put out his hand and rubbed his thumb over my right eyebrow and then looked at the faint brown smudge on his finger and smiled. He then bowed and said, "Eh, bien. The speck is gone now ... but it was most interesting meeting you. Au revoir." I was taken aback and worried for days that the French might mount an assault on the school and take me, but nothing came of it. Higgins was of the opinion that the Frenchman, though intrigued, wanted to do nothing that would bring joy to the British government. I hoped so.
I pick up the quill again.
Yes, the Chorus is getting quite famous. I suggested that we do a few nights at The Pig, but that was met with stony silence. Ah, well...
I keep thinking back to what you said in your last letter. I was so glad to hear that you might leave the military to enter into the merchant fleet. Oh, Jaimy, we could do it, we really could. I have already started on that course by outfitting my little boat for the setting and tending of lobster and fish traps. I had early on hired a boy, a Jim Tanner, and he has proven to be a very good lad, and the traps have been producing. I have made arrangements for Anzivino's Fish Market to take what we catch, and now we have some money coming in. And if I could get back to singing and dancing in the taverns and maybe get some portrait commissions, we might make enough money to buy a small coaster and carry rum down to New York and Philadelphia. I was shocked to learn that there are over a hundred rum distilleries within a day's ride of Boston. Ships loaded down with molasses for the making of spirits dock every day. Bluenosed New England Puritans, indeed! More like red-nosed ones. Actually, we could start off doing that right now with my Morning Star. Wouldn't that be glorious—Jim up at the helm, you and me all snugged down in the cabin, the Star rolling gracefully over the waves? And then maybe we could buy a small bark like my Emerald and we could sail down to the Caribbean? Ah, dear boy, there are some places I could show you there, believe me on that, and I already know a great many fine seamen here, who we could make up into a great crew, and then ... Well, I'm getting ahead of myself ... If I can never go back to my own country, well, so be it. It ain't so bad here, Jaimy, you'll see. Oh, I just can't wait!
But, then, I'm rattling on again. Foolish dreams...
Back to the here and now: Wonder of wonders, there is talk of a science field trip next week to one of the islands in Boston Harbor! Oh, how good it will be to get out of here for a day! Our science teacher, Mr. Sackett, has set it up through one of the excursion companies that take the quality folk out on excursions where they may picnic on the grass and pretend they are poor, simple peasants for a day. It is all the thing to do—Amy tells me that the unfortunate Queen Marie Antoinette of France used to spend days at one of her country estates pretending to be a simple milkmaid. It would have been far better for her had she actually been one, I'm thinking, and I'm sure she would agree, if she still wore her head upon her shoulders.
Ain't I getting good at commas?
But that's next week—tomorrow we go to sing across the river at the boys' college, which promises to be fun. All the girls are in an absolute tizzy about it. Not me, of course, for there is nothing of interest for me there as I am promised to another, that being you, dear boy.
Well, this has certainly turned out to be a long letter. Please forgive me, Jaimy, as the evenings here are long and there is not much for me to do, except study and dream of you.
Safe journey, Jaimy.
All my love always,
Jacky
Chapter 13
"Would you come sit over here, Miss? It appears you could use a comb-out, and today is a big day."
"Higgins, why do you make that sound like I am nothing but an unruly pony?"
"There are certain similarities, Miss. The coltish high spirits, the occasional burrs in the unruly mane, the dirty hooves..."
"All right, Higgins, brush away. And it is not such a big night, as we are merely going over to sing for those silly boys at the
college."
"I do not think the rest of your fellow students share in your opinion as to the silliness of this evening's event, Miss, considering the uproar in this place," says Higgins. "And what is this, may I ask?" He pulls something out of my hair and holds it before my eyes.
"It is a cocklebur. I was out riding yesterday, and after a while, I dismounted to lie down in the high grass, looking at the sky. It was a glorious fine day."
"Of course. Now I am sure we shall have to check you out for ticks."
"Ummm," I purr, as the brush goes through my hair. "Maybe I'll let Randall Trevelyne do that very job later tonight, ummm..." I had heard from Amy that Randall has been readmitted to the college.
"If I did not know you were joking, or that Mistress Pimm will be keeping a very tight watch on all of you tonight, I might take alarm at that."
Now, Higgins, you wouldn't go telling tales on me, would you? Ah, no, not you...
I lean back and let Higgins do his magic with his brush. I almost doze off, but...
"Isn't this just the most exciting thing! Real boys!" This from Elspeth, who's next to me, having her hair done up by Annie. "I have never been to a ball with real boys!"
"This ain't exactly a ball, Elspeth," I say, lazily. "It's more like a high tea—we sing, everybody claps, we come down and simper as the boys lead us about and give us some tea and cakes, and then we're loaded back in the coaches and hauled back here. That ain't a ball by my way of thinking."
"Yes, but you've been off and had adventures and stuff" she gushes. "Oh, if only I could have had such adventures!"
"Be careful what you wish for, dear. I've found that most adventures are better in the telling of than in the living through."
"What I can't believe is," says Rebecca—whom Higgins has already put up in a high-on-head hairstyle to make her appear older than her thirteen years, as he knew she would want, and she is pleased with it and cannot stop looking at herself in the mirror—"why Mistress is allowing us to go."
I snort. "Mistress always says that her girls make good matches and that college is where the good matches are to be found, in this town, anyway ... and no rouge, you, you're not old enough." Rebecca pouts and puts down the rouge pad. "Besides, you couldn't look any lovelier than you do right now without the paint." She has always been "Little" Rebecca to us, her being the youngest, but she has recently put her foot down, demanding that we stop. After all, I will be fourteen soon and I am not so little, so there!
"Mistress knows where the money is, too," says the ever cynical Amy, who's waiting her turn under the brush. "What I cannot believe is that she is letting us go on that field trip. Out on the water and all"
"Come, Sister, the water will hardly be over our heads, and it's always calm in the sheltered harbor, so you needn't worry about that," I say. I know that Amy has never liked the water—the last time back at Dovecote, I took her and Randall out for a sail on the Star, but she didn't take to it. She does put up with going back and forth on the Star to her farm on the rare weekends when we can get away, because it is so much quicker than the coach. Now that it's warmer, I've brought Jim and the boat back to its mooring in Boston, so it is always ready for us when we need it. Haven't had any more trouble from British Intelligence, so I have become more bold.
"We will get wet from the spray, and when we get to the island, there will be bugs. It will be horrid." She sniffs a profound sniff and returns to her book.
I look over at Annie and ask, "Who's going from downstairs?"
"Me, Miss. And Katy and Sylvie. We're wicked excited to go."
"Me, too, Annie. A full day away from this place and part of it out on the briney. But how will poor Henry Hoffman stand it, not to see his pretty Sylvie for a whole day?"
She laughs but says nothing. We are easy together, for we all well remember when I was one of their number downstairs and was comforted during a time of trial by their openhearted love and affection. Annie, though she knows she'll probably never see the rogue again, was most glad to hear that Davy was not listed among the Honored Dead after the Great Battle.
"Dorothea probably had something to do with it," says Rebecca, "the field trip, I mean." I have to grunt in agreement.
Dorothea Baxter is another new girl, and a very studious girl she is. She is plain, though not unattractive, but I don't think she cares about that sort of thing at all—what she cares about is knowledge, and especially science knowledge. As Hepzibah has become Signor Fracelli's disciple, so Dorothea has become Mr. Sackett's. She is forever in the laboratory, mixing things and making smoke and foul odors, and she is better than anyone at mathematics. My foolish pride tells me that at least I am the best at art, and I tell myself to be content with that.
"That Dorothea, always with her nose in a book," exclaims Elspeth, whose own pert little nose is seldom found in such a place. I reflect that she is a pretty little thing and will turn many male heads this day.
"There are worse ways to spend one's time," says Amy, looking up from her book. "But it is true. I am sure she and Mr. Sackett have been joyously preparing their specimen kits in which they anticipate putting the most disgusting things, whilst dancing about the lab, waving their butterfly nets in wild abandon."
This gets a laugh from all around, then Higgins announces, "There, I believe that's all that can be done with this one," and I get up, give him a mock scowl, and head upstairs to dress.
Back in the dormitory, I find that someone, probably Betsey, has laid out on my bed my freshly brushed and cleaned black school dress. I silently thank her and pull on the garment. I do it with some regret, thinking how much I'd rather wear one of my racier dresses to this affair, but, no, Mistress wants us to look like a proper chorus when we go out to perform, and so the black dress it is. Plus, early on, she had made up a wide, pleated white collar for each of us to wear, which covers our chests and extends out over our shoulders, and we all, to a girl, hate them. Annie, fixing mine around my neck the first time, whispered in my ear, "Aye, Jacky, ye look like a proper flock o' nuns, ye do," and I had to agree.
Clarissa is there, two beds from me, being dressed by her slave. When I was on my Emerald, I was always dressed by Higgins, but that was by his choice. This girl has no choice, none whatsoever. I turn away in disgust and look to my own things, and calm myself down. I have found that I have something of an uncontrollable temper and Clarissa Howe brings out the absolute worst in me, for sure. You be good, now.
I look down with some sorrow on my Naval lieutenant's jacket lying there in the drawer, with my medal laid upon it. Higgins, soon after he arrived, had presented me with that same medal. I examined it and was mystified. On one side was a profile of Lord Nelson and the words ENGLAND EXPECTS EVERY MAN TO DO HIS DUTY and on the other side the word TRAFALGAR and the date of the battle. "But, what is it?" I had asked and Higgins replied, "A medal has been struck commemorating the battle that saved England. See, here's mine," and he had pulled out his and put it about his neck, a gold medal suspended on a red-white-and-blue ribbon, while I, stupefied, held my silver one in my hand. "The captains and admirals received gold ones, the regular officers silver, petty officers bronze, and the seamen pewter," said Higgins. I asked, "But how came I by this?" and he replied, "Captain Trumbull handed in the log of the Wolverine and there upon it was your name—Acting Lieutenant Jack Faber—just as Scroggs had entered it, and so you received a silver medal. I, of course, immediately took my common pewter one to a goldsmith to have it gilded." I then gazed at mine for a while, thinking back to Tremendous McKenzie, a ship's boy on the Wolverine, who proudly wore a medal commemorating the Battle of the Glorious Fourth, for having been born a male baby on board HMS Tremendous on that day. "I am astounded, Higgins," I said, after which Higgins explained, "Well, Captain Trumbull gave it to me, knowing that I would seek you out. The good Captain chuckled as he handed it over and said, 'Tell her she owes me a neat two hundred and fifty pounds, and someday, I mean to collect.'"
Ah, how I would like
to wear my lieutenant's jacket this day, in all its navy blue glory, with the gold buttons and piping and all, and to put the medal on my breast and put that under Lord Randall Trevelyne's nose tonight ... Ah yes, that would be a fine thing ... But it is not to be. I sigh and close the drawer. perhaps on the next trip to Dovecote...
I think about all that as we gather in the foyer to be off. Higgins has called for the coaches, and as we are about to board, he comes up to give me a final brush.
"Higgins, you know you could have gone back to Lady Hollingsworth's employ. You could have stayed with Captain Trumbull. Why did you come back to me?"
He laughs. "The truth is, Miss, I have become used to a life of luxury, and poor Captain Trumbull, although a fine man, is a junior captain without a command, so he could not possibly hope to afford me. And as for the Hollingsworths, well, they are excellent people, to be sure, but I find I also have become used to a life of adventure, and adventure seems to swirl about you, Miss, for better or for worse. As for the money and riches, well, you shall bounce back, I know."
"Huh, some high adventure—escorting a gaggle of girls across a river to sing at a backwater college," I say, as he helps me into my cloak.
"Ah, yes, to a school full of beautiful young men, how boring ... Well, enough of that ... but then, who knows what adventure the night might bring? Here's the coach, now up with you."
Chapter 14
But the performance is not the biggest part of that day, oh, no, not by a long shot.
We return in the early evening, full of high spirits, each of the girls—well, those who yearn for that sort of thing—sure that she has captured the heart of her perfect boy. We, the older and more seasoned types, who have neared the ripe old age of sixteen, are more blasé about the whole thing and pretend that it is just another concert, don'cha know.