Currents (12 page)

“You'll do no such thing,” Elsie insisted, sputtering and snatching the necklace from her hand.

“I won't have you anywhere near the box,” she ordered, frowning at the necklace. “What happened to the pearl in the middle? It's missing. There are only thirteen pearls here, and there should be a fourteenth in the center.”

“It's always been missing as far as I know,” Bess said. “Papa meant to get it replaced. I guess he hasn't had the time yet.”

“Well, that's typical of your father,” she said. “I'll deal with this. I won't say anything to your father this time, but if you do this again there will be serious consequences.”

Gripping the cross, Elsie turned and spun out of the room, leaving behind only the scent of her perfume.

T
he next time Bess saw Harry Fletcher, he was bouncing along atop a horse-drawn cart piled high with fresh hay. When he spotted Sarah and Bess marching up the drive to Attwood Manor, he pulled the horses to a stop along the road.

“Hello there, Ladies Kent!” he called out, tipping his hat.

“Harry! What are you doing up there?” Sarah shaded her eyes from the sun.

“Your groundsman hired me and two other lads from town to help him cut your fields.”

“I thought you were a stonemason,” Bess said.

“My father is a stonemason, and he's taught me well. But in these times, a fellow has to have a few trades if he's going to survive. You want a ride?” He patted the seat next to him.

“Won't we get all dirty?” Sarah started to complain, but Bess was already pulling her up with her.

“Well, the view is quite nice up here.” Bess sat next to Harry, and she wiggled over to make room for her sister.

“Yes, and I can see it a bit better now that my eye has healed,” he said with a grin on his face.

“Ah, well, that's good to know.” Bess tilted her head pleasantly. “Take us back up to the house, and I'll give you some tea for your trouble.”

“After a long day in the hay fields, tea sounds like a fine idea,” he quickly agreed. He looked her up and down and said, “I'm relieved to see you look none the worse for the carriage accident.”

“Ha!” she exclaimed. “We Kents are a hardier bunch than that!”

Gertrude was busy polishing some items when they settled in the kitchen. She stopped what she was doing, washed her hands, and laid out warm scones, clotted cream, and a scoop of honey.

“Gertrude, you spoil us!” Bess gave the cook a loving squeeze while Sarah poured the tea for all of them.

“Gertrude,” Bess said suddenly, eyeing the object the cook was buffing. “What are you doing with that?”

Freshly polished and hanging from the cook's fingers, Bess immediately recognized the pearl-encrusted cross that Elsie had taken from her.

“Just finishing up what Her Grace asked me to—”

“No. I mean the cross.” Bess interrupted, waving her hand dismissively at the other items. “Why does she want you to polish that?”

“No special reason, my lady.” Gertrude showed her the velvet box that she was to return it to. “I think once I've cleaned these things up, she wants to wrap them and put them back up in the attic and in the jewelry box. They were getting dirty and musty.”

“All right,” Bess said. She took the cross from Gertrude and laid it on the kitchen table to show Harry. “This was my mother's before she died,” she announced proudly. “It's to be mine to wear when I'm eighteen. I treasure it.”

“It's beautiful,” he said, picking it up to examine it. “What do the letters engraved on the back stand for?”

“DSS J. K.,” Bess said. “Duchess Julia Kent.”

“You'll look beautiful wearing it,” he said.

“But not until I am eighteen,” Bess said, returning the cross to its box and then to Gertrude. “And not a day before,” she said sarcastically. She realized she must sound bitter and changed the subject.

“Do you think you'll live on the island for the rest of your life?” Bess asked Harry.

“Well, I'm not really sure. I have so many things that I think I might want to try. Truth be told, I don't know what I'm meant to be in this world. I only just turned fourteen. I have some time to figure it all out,” Harry said thoughtfully.

“Your true north,” Bess said.

“What? What's that?” Harry asked, helping himself to another scone.

“What you were meant to be,” she explained. “I used to ask my mother what she wanted me to be when I grew up, and she always told me she wanted to help me find my own true north. Not what people think you should be, but who you know you should be. Where your heart lies.”

“And do you know your true north, Bess?” Harry asked, putting the last bite in his mouth.

“I do. I'm certain that I am destined to be an explorer like my father.” She considered telling him about the bottle, but decided against it for now.

“Can girls be explorers?” he asked.

“I don't think whether one is a boy or a girl has anything to do with exploring. Why don't you meet me at the library tomorrow morning at eleven o'clock, and I'll show you some of the books that I've been reading. You will be astounded at what there is left to discover on this planet. You might find them interesting, or you might find some other subject that you like better. Who knows? Many people have discovered their true north by reading books, Harry. I plan on—” Bess stopped short as Elsie entered the kitchen.

“What is that dirty old hay cart doing out front?” Elsie interrupted, her long skirt swishing behind her. Bess felt her stomach clench.

“This is Harry Fletcher, Mother,” Sarah replied. “He was one of the fellows who helped upright the horse cart when we were coming back from the village. We just ran into him out by our backfield. He's helping with the fall haying here at Attwood.”

Harry jumped up and politely bowed his head. “Good day, Your Grace. It's a pleasure to meet you.”

“Well, Harry needs a bath after his long day's work,” Elsie said, sighing. “I'm sure his parents would want him to head home now.” It wasn't a suggestion.

Before Bess could open her mouth, Harry calmly nodded. “I'll be going on now. Thank you for the tea. Bess, I'll see you at church if not before.”

“I hope to see you tomorrow,” she answered, both of them ignoring Elsie's slow boil.

“I'll try, if I get my chores done in time.” He turned and walked calmly out the door, nodding to Bess at the last moment as he left.

“Whatever do you girls mean,” Elsie said, “inviting the son of a stonemason into our house. Perhaps I should speak to your father about having hired him to work on the property. The likes of him does not belong in our kitchen. After all—”

“If he's good enough to work at the Queen's estate, Mother,” Bess replied, squaring off, “he is more than appropriate to work at Attwood.”

Elsie and Bess glared at each other until Elsie finally picked up her skirts and sputtering to herself, clomped up the stairs.

B
ess headed out earlier than usual the next afternoon. She made sure to pack her library books in a larger-than-necessary bag and hurried down to Singing Beach. She was relieved when she reached into the rocky opening where she and Sarah had hidden the bottle. It was just as they'd left it. Pulling it out, she inspected it before tucking it into her bag and hurrying off to the library.

The periodical section of the library had two large club chairs that faced each other with a long table in between. Bess returned last week's books and checked out five new ones, then sat with
Merry's Museum Magazine
spread out on the table. The magazine always arrived on the island a few months after being published in America, but the stories and letters were so exciting it didn't matter how late she read them.

She read a story called “The Chinese Wall.”

She made a mental note to add the Great Wall of China to her list of places to visit.

She would tell Papa every detail of the next story, “A Frightened Tiger.”

“To think,” she said out loud, “that my papa came face-to-face with such a beast!”

“So this is where you think I'll find my true north, do you?” Harry asked as he came up behind her.

“Well, hello there,” she said. She jumped up, delighted that he came. “You might indeed find it here. You must read the stories in
Merry's Museum
, Harry. They are nothing short of thrilling, I promise.

“So now that you're here,” she continued, “let's see what else we can come up with to interest you. Have you ever been to this library before?”

“Of course,” he said. “Just not for a while. Well, come to think of it, not for a long while. So you be my guide, Lady Bess. Where do we start?”

He followed her over to the long rows of neatly sorted books.

“A,” she pronounced, running her finger over the spines of several books. “A is always a good place to start. How about A for accountant?”

“Oh, I'm not too keen with numbers,” he said, wincing.

“Well, A is also for astronomer or architect or apple picker!”

“Keep going,” he said.

“Then you come, of course, to the letter B. Now there is baker.”

“Well, I do like to eat,” he pointed out.

“B also stands for beekeeper or butcher.”

Harry cringed. “I'm allergic to bees and can't stand the sight of blood. Shall we move on to C? Actually, why don't you pick out a couple of books for me, and I'll see how it goes this week?”

She carefully chose a couple she thought he'd like—one about exploring and another all about London.

“And this is one of my favorites,” she said, pulling out a biography of Marcus Aurelius. “I've read it so many times, I'm likely responsible for its worn cover.”

Harry took it from her and opened the book to a random page. “Who is he?”

“He was a Roman emperor,” Bess said. “But more importantly he was a philosopher. Read it, Harry, and I promise you will find at least one thing he said that will inspire you.”

“‘Waste no more time arguing about what a good man should be,'” Harry read, “‘be one.' Hmm, I like that.”

“See? You already found something!” Bess said gleefully and took the book from him. She slowly thumbed through it until she stopped and slapped the page she had been looking for. “This is one of Papa's and my favorites.”

She cleared her throat and read slowly, bestowing the words with the reverence she felt they deserved. “‘Do not act as if you had ten thousand years to throw away. Death stands at your elbow. Be good for something, while you live and it is in your power.'”

“I like that even better,” Harry said. “I guess we all should try to live by that.”

“Easier said than done. But now,” she said, lowering her voice, “I'd like you to meet a friend of mine down at the dock. But I must have your word that you'll keep to yourself what I'm going to discuss with him.”

“S,” Harry said.

“S?” Bess asked.

“Yes, S. For secrets. I'm excellent at keeping them. So let's go meet your friend. I must admit I like the docks a bit better than the library.”