Emily's Fortune

ALSO BY
PHYLLIS REYNOLDS NAYLOR

Faith, Hope, and Ivy June

THE BOY/GIRL BATTLE BOOKS
The Boys Start the War
The Girls Get Even
Boys Against Girls
The Girls' Revenge
A Traitor Among the Boys
A Spy Among the Girls
The Boys Return
The Girls Take Over
Boys in Control
Girls Rule!
Boys Rock!
Who Won the War?

ONE.
A Turtle Named Rufus

TWO.
Orphans, Strays, and Roustabouts

THREE.
Jackson

FOUR.
Five to a Bed

FIVE.
Surprising News

SIX.
Followed

SEVEN.
Hiding

EIGHT.
A Horrible, Terrible Thought

NINE.
Fever

TEN.
Trouble

ELEVEN.
The Secret Is Out

TWELVE.
Breaking Away

THIRTEEN.
Going Home

W
hen eight-year-old Emily found herself alone in the world, she didn't have much: a few dresses, a couple of books, and a small green turtle named Rufus.

She also had her socks and underwear. Emily never said
underwear
aloud—never said anything very loud—because her mother worked for the wealthy Miss Luella Nash, and the old woman liked
quiet
. Peace and quiet. Calm and order. Crackers and cheese, and a perfectly brewed cup of tea.

When she drove her carriage, however—and Luella always insisted on driving herself—she went a little bit crazy. Her neighbors called her Loony Lu. Her eyes would bulge, her mouth would grin, and she would lean so far forward she could have grabbed the horse by its tail.

“Faster!” she would call.
“Faster!”
And she'd slap the reins against the animal's side until the horse
went racing through the streets of the town and the carriage rocked from side to side.

“There goes Loony Lu!” people would say.

Once she was home again, however, Miss Luella Nash would hand the reins to a servant, straighten her bonnet, and step elegantly from the carriage, nodding politely to the neighbors who studied her from beyond the gate.

As for little Emily, her father had died in a steamboat accident when she was just a baby. Ever since, she and her mother had lived in Luella's big house, in the back room behind the kitchen.

Sometimes Emily's mother took her into the parlor to visit Miss Nash. Emily had to make sure that her hair was curled, her ears were clean, her nose was blown, her teeth were brushed, her nails were trimmed, her clothes were pressed, and her socks had not a wrinkle in them. She even took off her shoes so they wouldn't make any noise. And on the rare occasion that Miss Luella Nash asked her a question, Emily answered in a voice so soft it could have been the squeak of the lid on a mustard jar.

Miss Luella Nash seemed to believe that grown-ups were always right. If the carriage master upset the horses and said that the gardener had done it, Luella Nash believed him. If the gardener bumped the rose trellis and said that the maid had done it, Luella Nash believed him too. And if the maid knocked over a vase and said that Emily had done it, then of course Luella Nash believed that also.

“Dismissed!” she would say to Emily at the end of a visit, waving the fingers of one hand and sending her from the room.

So little Emily was not allowed to be seen or heard unless she was on her best behavior, and Miss Nash would not let her do any work about the place, except for buttoning her own dresses and tying her own shoes, combing her own hair and brushing her own teeth. Emily was not allowed to help the servants with the dusting because Miss Nash wanted it done just so. She could not feed the chickens, wash the dishes, husk the corn, gather the berries, or mop the floor. Everything had to be done exactly as Luella Nash thought right.

Emily's mother encouraged her to do as much as
possible in the room they shared. Emily learned to make a bed and shake a rug and sweep a floor and scrub a tub. But most of the time she could only sit at the window and watch the neighbor children at play. She was not allowed to join them because she might get hurt, Miss Nash had said. She was not allowed to go to school because she might learn bad words. Her mother taught her to read and write, but still…
How will I ever get along in the world if I can't
do
anything?
Emily asked Rufus, her turtle, as he sat on the back of her hand and together they watched the world beyond the window.

•   •   •

One terrible day, however, something awful happened: Constance, Emily's mother, had gone to market with Miss Nash, and on their way home, with Luella at the reins, the carriage tipped over and fell into the river. Only the horse was saved.

Emily was now an orphan.

“What will become of me?” she cried. “Where will I go?” Her sobs were no louder than the little
puff-puff-puff
s she used to make blowing
soap bubbles on the porch with her mother.

The neighbors—Mrs. Ready, Mrs. Aim, and Mrs. Fire—tried to help.

Mrs. Ready always repeated the problem.

Mrs. Aim always asked the question.

And Mrs. Fire always had an answer.

“She doesn't know what will happen to her,” said Mrs. Ready.

“Did Constance have a plan?” asked Mrs. Aim.

“We will ask Emily and see,” said Mrs. Fire. So they did.

Emily wiped her eyes with one small fist. “Mother said that if anything ever happened to her, I should go live with the one who loved me most,” she whispered, weeping.

“And who would that be?” the women wanted to know.

“I have an aunt Hilda in Redbud,” Emily breathed.

“What?” the women said, leaning forward so they could hear. “An anthill in Bedbug?”

“Aunt Hilda in Redbud,” Emily repeated, a bit louder. “She is my aunt by marriage.”

“An aunt by marriage in Redbud,” Mrs. Ready echoed.

But Mrs. Aim asked the question: “Don't you have any blood relatives?”

“Only Uncle Victor,” Emily whispered, more softly than ever.

“What?” asked Mrs. Aim, leaning closer still. “Old hunk of pickle?”

“Only Uncle Victor,” Emily replied, “but please don't send me to live with him. I don't even know where he is.”

Emily didn't want to talk about her uncle Victor, on her mother's side of the family, because she did not want to live with him. She was sure he didn't love her at all. It was true she had only met Aunt Hilda, her father's sister-in-law, once. But she remembered a kind face, a warm lap, and big arms that hugged her tight. Aunt Hilda also sent cookies at Christmas.

Uncle Victor, however, had the silver-black hair of a wolf, the eyes of a weasel, the growl of a bear, and a tiger tattoo on his arm. He had a gold tooth that gleamed when he opened his mouth, and he could
crack two walnuts in the palm of one hand just by squeezing his fist. He never came to see Emily's mother unless he wanted money. The only thing Uncle Victor was afraid of, it seemed, was love.

“Why don't you like him, child?” the women questioned.

“He's never said a kind word to me or my mother,” replied Emily. “The last time he visited us, when I was six, he took our money and made my mother cry.”

“Why, we've seen him here ourselves,” said Mrs. Ready, remembering.

“And he is your mother's brother?” asked Mrs. Aim. “How awful!”

“Then we shall write to your aunt Hilda and ask if she will take you in,” said Mrs. Fire, and off the letter went.

•   •   •

Meanwhile, the servants began to close up Miss Luella Nash's house. They polished the silver and put it away. They aired out the blankets and put them in chests. They covered the chairs and lowered the blinds. Emily was afraid they might pack her up too, so she was
even quieter than usual. She sat on the back steps with Rufus and stroked his tiny head with one finger.

Lawyers came in and out, studying the paintings on the walls and writing numbers in their books. They argued over the lamps, counted the candlesticks, and bumped into each other in the hallways.

Finally a letter arrived from Aunt Hilda: