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.”