Currents (17 page)

“This is all a lie, Uncle!” Harry yelled, enraged.

“Sir,” Bess spoke up. “My stepmother is lying. It is she that is taking things from Attwood. Harry would never do such a thing.”

“Do you have evidence of that, my lady?” Alfie asked.

“You have my word, sir!” Bess cried indignantly. “I could identify the man she is selling them to!”

“Please, miss,” he said wearily. “Don't take offense. But your say-so against the duchess's? How old are you? She'll just say that you're trying to protect your friend. She even claims to have seen him. And why would the buyer admit to anything?

“Says she suspected him all along. Says last week when he was at the manor she looked out the window after he said good-bye to you. Says she watched as he snuck back in and up to the attic. Claims she saw him slip back down with a silver set under his arm and a small oil painting in his hand.”

Harry's father interjected. “Why wouldn't she have said something then, right away when it happened?” Raw fury caused his voice to crack.

“Claims she was terrified, her husband away and all. She insists that I arrest Harry immediately and have him locked up in Parkhurst Prison where he'll be no threat to her or her stepdaughters.”

“Oh, my Lord.” Harry's mother fell weeping against her husband. “Parkhurst Prison?”

“She even brought up the Queen.” Alfie went on, sweating profusely now. “‘What would our Queen do if she thought you were allowing a thief to roam around the island simply because he is your nephew?' she asked me.”

“Where is the evidence beyond her word? Where is the silver and painting now?” Harry's father angrily demanded, slamming his hand on the table. “This is lunacy! You've only this woman's word, Alfie! Harry would never do such a thing.”

“I've seen the items in a box in our house. And I would know if he had ever been in the attic,” Bess argued. “He has never even been above the ground floor. Surely you believe us.”

“I have no choice,” Alfie said with a heavy heart. “She is the Duchess of Kent. Harry's word means very little next to hers. Have you seen Harry with anything at all that looks like it might have come from Attwood?”

“Are you out of your mind? Of course not!” Harry's mother said, beginning to sob louder. “I tell you this is not true. It can't be!”

“This is just outrageous. The duchess is lying—I swear to it!” Harry pleaded, his whole body trembling with anger and indignation.

“I'm telling you, too, Harry didn't do this!” Bess cried in frustration.

But the duchess had signed a complaint that said she'd seen him with her very eyes. And everyone knew that Alfie couldn't afford to lose his job. So despite the boy's angry protests, Bess's support, and his parents' pleas, Alfie Fletcher reluctantly deposited his frightened nephew in the infamous Parkhurst Prison.

“H
ow could you?” Bess burst into Attwood's drawing room a while later. Fueled by anger, she had run all the way from the Fletchers' cottage. She found Elsie completely concentrated on painting some flowers.

“I didn't hear you knock,” Elsie said, not looking up. She was admiring the colors of the leaf and petals on her painting.

“Harry Fletcher stole nothing!” Bess raged. “I demand that you have him released from Parkhurst!”

This made Elsie giggle. “You demand? You are so amusing, dear! Oh, but I think not. Young Harry will be sent to the penal colony in Australia where he belongs.”

“I shall tell everything I know. It's you who has been looting the family treasures. Not Harry. You can't get away with this! It's been you all along.”

“Oh, my goodness, who would ever believe such a thing?” Elsie put a dab of sap green on one of the leaves.

“Gertrude, for one,” Bess said. “She knew there were boxes there every week. Gertrude will vouch for it.”

“Oh, dear. Didn't I tell you? Gertrude is gone. I let her go just after I came back from the Constable's office. All those creamy chowders and such—too rich for my figure. I had Eldridge take her in the carriage headed to the docks. Booked her ticket on a boat to Portsmouth and sent her off with a letter of recommendation. I'm hiring a lady from town who used to cook for the Cat and Mouse Tavern. She has excellent references. But Gertrude. Oh, my. Well, Gertrude is long gone. Her boat is probably halfway to Portsmouth at this very moment.”

For the first time she looked up from her painting at Bess. In a steely voice she said, “You do see that it will be your word and the word of a lowly stonemason's son against mine. Not very good odds for you, I'm afraid. I won't quarrel with you any longer. Please close the door behind you.”

Bess's hands were in tight fists, trembling at her sides. She wanted to grab Elsie's silly little painting and smash it on the floor. But she also knew that raging and pleading would not free Harry Fletcher. In all the adventure books she had ever read, the only way to succeed against evil was to be at least as calm and calculating as the villain you faced.

Bess willed herself to take a deep breath, took full measure of the enemy in front of her, and closed the door behind her.

When Chap's boat pulled up to the dock the next morning, Bess was waiting for him, pacing.

“And it's not even Thursday! To what do I owe this pleasure?” He hopped off the boat and began tying the ropes to the dock.

“It's Harry Fletcher,” Bess blurted out.

She could barely tell the story straight, standing there in the cold shadow of Parkhurst Prison, knowing Harry was locked up inside its bleak walls. She willed herself not to fall down in a heap and cry.

“Ah, Bess.” Chap whistled and shook his head slowly when she'd finished explaining. “A duchess against a poor stonemason's son. I'm sorry to tell you this, but he doesn't stand a chance. He's not the first innocent boy to be put in Parkhurst, and he won't be the last one.”

“What will they do with him?” Bess cried.

“Unfortunately, they will probably put him on the boat like the rest of the lads. First Monday of every month, the ship pulls in, loads up the prisoners and takes them off either to stand trial in London or to the penal colonies on Australia or New Zealand.”

It was too much, and she found herself sobbing on his shoulder.

“I must get him out,” she said as she wept.

“Now be serious, girl. How are you going to do such a thing? Even if you could, they'd find him. Every so often some lad takes off, but they always find him within a day or two. Where can he go? Unless he can steal a boat, he's stuck on the island and surely someone would notice if he tried to leave. What a shame,” he said, shaking his head. “No place for the poor boy. No place for any human being.

“Have they let you visit him yet?” he asked.

“No. I'm allowed to see him for ten minutes later this morning—at 11:30,” Bess said.

She took his rough hand in hers and pleaded to him. “You could get him out. You have a key to the back door. Oh, Chap. You could put him on your boat and sail him over to the mainland. You had to leave those men chained to that wagon all those years ago. You had no choice then, but you have a choice this time. You don't have to leave Harry.”

She searched his eyes and saw she'd struck a chord. But he didn't say so.

“Ha! I come marching out the back of Parkhurst Prison with a prisoner and just stroll on down to my boat?” he reasoned. “There are too many people around the docks at all times of the day and night. They'd see me with him. Bess, you aren't thinking straight.”

“Yes, yes, of course.” She sat down. She needed to have her wits about her. She needed to quiet her heart and let her head take over. “But I need your help. Please.”

She pulled a knotted handkerchief from her skirt pocket, opened it, and held up a double strand of pearls with a gold clasp.

He practically jumped back away from her. “Aye! You're not going to ask me to get in trouble for stealing from the duke, too!”

“They're not my father's. They're mine. I keep them in my jewelry box, and I can do with them what I wish. I wish to give them to you in exchange for your help. Chap, they will not buy you a palace, but they should fetch enough on Bond Street to pay to repair your boat. And perhaps enough will be left over to let you sail off somewhere else. To one of the places you always talk about going if you weren't stuck here.”

“I don't want your pearls, Bess.” Chap shook his head, his one blue eye staring straight at her.

“I have other strands of pearls, Chap. I've only worn these once. No one will ever notice. And when I'm eighteen I'll receive several more. I don't need these. But I do gravely need your help.”

He dragged his fingers through his silver hair and visibly shuddered at the thought of prison. “Every day I take the buckets of fish up there, I feel my stomach clench. To lose your freedom—it's not the kind of thing that ever leaves you,” he said.

By the time she paid a visit to Harry in Parkhurst later that morning, their plan was well laid.

B
ess's heart was already pounding as she slipped out the back gate of Attwood two nights after her visit to Chap. Her hair was pulled back tight, and she wore a scarf so that in the event someone saw her, she would be harder to identify.

She had never been out by herself at this hour, let alone traveled down the dark, deserted lanes. Chap said it was important they do it when there was no moon, since they would be harder to spot. But they needed to act soon, while Harry was still being kept in the quarantine section of the prison. Once he was moved into the regular population, he would be securely locked up in one of the cells.

Bess was prepared to duck into the woods if she met someone, but the island was asleep at this hour, and she was alone the entire way. Creeping along the edge of the cliffs behind Parkhurst Prison, she saw Chap's boat steering away from the dock. She didn't have much time.

Fumbling in her pocket, Bess pulled out the key Chap used when he delivered fish to the prison and slipped it into the lock, turning it slowly. It seemed to her like the clink it made when the bolt flipped open could be heard from the docks. She stood silently for a moment, waiting to hear if someone was coming. Nothing. She edged the door open just enough to slip in, stole silently down the hall into the kitchen, and rapped once on the door to the boys' quarantine room.

The door opened partway, and Harry's face immediately rose up in front of her. She almost screamed, but he reached out and put his hand on her mouth and slid through the opening and into the kitchen.

“I was so afraid you wouldn't come,” he whispered, his hands shaking.

She didn't answer. They both turned and moved quickly down the dismal, dank passageway and out the door.

“Wait,” she said. She locked the door behind them with the key. “Now let's go.”