Then Sylvie says, "My doll Gabriella ... and maccharruni con pesto Trapenese for sure, yes." We don't have to know what that is, but from the quiet passion in her voice, we know it is very, very good and we would like to have some, too, whatever it is.
Around it goes. Turkeys, roast beef, chops—everything gets a heartfelt mention. Even possum gets a nod, from another country girl.
Now it's Elspeth, stammering, "My d-doll Tatters ... and ... and the glass of warm milk and honey my mommy brings me at buh-bedtime."
Oh, come on, Elspeth ... please.
Some of the girls choose side dishes—my doll Janey Mae ... and a bowl of mashed potatoes—or desserts, like my doll Felicity ... and a cherry pie, as if we were putting together a grand banquet. Well, the dinner table is groaning and ready to break with all we are putting on it, that's for certain.
When it's her turn, Dorothea Baxter up and says, "My doll Olivia Galileo ... and Newton's Principia Mathematical There is silence. Then a titter. Some snickering. Then outright full-scale laughter fills the Hold. Only Dorothea, in the midst of this orgy of food wishes, would wish for a book. "Well, and maybe a watercress sandwich," she adds, when the laughter has died down. I reflect that this is the first time since we were put down here that we have laughed as a group, and I hope they hear it out there.
When it comes to Katy, she simply says, "Dollbaby ... and a brace o' squirrels. Cooked like Mama cooked 'em. With gravy."
The game continues all around till, finally, Cloris Minton says, "My doll Henrietta ... and a huge plum pudding!" and she squeezes my left hand.
"It's come back to me," I say, "and now that we have had our fill, ladies, it's Storytime!" With hoots and laughter and a round of applause, the girls head for the Balcony and I head for the center of the Stage.
"Now you'll remember from yesterday how I took the coach from Peter's Head to London, went to Jaimy's house, met his mum, and got tossed out on my ear. All right, then...
"A tousled head popped up from under the pile of rags and straw that is the old Blackfriars Bridge kip. It belongs to a boy of about eight years..."
After I have finished my bit, and all the doings of the day are done, I sit with Hughie for a while, telling him about the pretty horses back at the Lawson Peabody School for Young Girls in Boston, and I ask if he would like to see them someday. "I know you would, Hughie, 'cause I remember back under the Blackfriars Bridge, when we kids would dream about what we wanted to be when we grew up and you said you wanted to be a hostler, 'cause you liked horses. You remember that, Hughie? Sure, you do. Hey, you wanna join our new gang? Why, this gang right here, Hughie. All these girls, and you, Hugh the Grand, bein' a member, too. Remember how Rooster Charlie used to call you Our Muscle? Well, you can be Our Muscle again, with this gang. What do you say? Good, Hughie, good. Welcome to the gang, but remember, this is a secret gang and you can't tell anybody about it. Good night now, Hughie. You're a good boy."
And so to bed.
Good evening, Jaimy. I hope you are safe and well. You probably haven't got word yet on what has happened to us, and that's just as well, but I am fine, or as well as can be expected. We are in a nice routine now and the girls are gaining in confidence with this hunger strike. I got us some wash water this morning and just how I got it I may tell you about sometime after we've been married for fifty years or so, or I may not. This morning, after everyone had washed, we had Dance Instruction and then French and then Chorus—Hepzibah led us in Mr. Mozart's "Laudate Dominum," and it was lovely—you should have heard it. Then we held a meeting and told the girls what we're going to do tomorrow with the strike, and they are ready to go. We had a game and then we had Storytime. Jaimy, I hope you don't mind that I've been telling them of our adventures of late, knowing how proper you are, having been brought up right as you were, but the girls seem to enjoy it so ... so I know you'll forgive me. I'm up to the part where I threw my ring down at your feet and ran off. When I think how different my life would have been had I not done that ... Ah, well. We had "Praise God from Whom All Blessings Flow" as the evening's hymn and that was nice—I've always liked that one. When we all stretched out to sleep, that Connie How-ell said we should all recite one prayer together and I said she could pray out loud if she wanted, and if she kept it short, but that I would pray to myself. And this right here is my prayer.
G'night, luv.
Chapter 23
John Higgins
The Lawson Peabody School for Young Girls
Beacon Street, Boston, Massachusetts, USA
May 28, 1806
Lieutenant James Fletcher
Bartleby's Inn
West Street
London, England
My Dear Mister Fletcher,
It is with a heavy heart that I must tell you some disquieting news. Our Miss Faber has gone missing and is presumed dead.
A boating party carrying the young ladies of the Lawson Peabody School on an outing apparently foundered on the rocks of an island shore. The presumption here is that the boat was swamped and the girls drowned. Personal articles have washed up and one body has been found.
Now that I have given you the worst of the news, I will tell you of some events that I feel might give you some hope.
Upon my receiving the dreadful news of the accident, I went directly down to the courthouse, where I had been told evidence of the disaster was being collected. Many soaked bonnets, shawls, purses were spread out on a bench in an anteroom and the body of Dobbs, the school handyman who went on the excursion, ostensibly to act as guardian to the girls, was laid out on a table in a side room. I must say I breathed a sigh of relief to find that the one body that had so far been found had been his and was not the corporeal remains of one of the girls. This anteroom had been set up as a morgue to receive the bodies of the girls as they are found, but none, in fact, had as yet been discovered. I found that passing strange, but said nothing. Some others present in the room in their official capacities were of the opinion that the young ladies' lighter forms simply had been carried out to sea, but I was not of that mind. At least one or two should have been found out of the thirty-two girls missing—twenty-nine of the young ladies of the school and three of the servant girls. Miss Amy Trevelyne, Miss Faber's dearest friend, elected not to go on the ill-fated excursion, choosing to stay behind to tend to Mistress Pimm, who had suddenly fallen ill. I met Miss Trevelyne at the courthouse in the company of Ezra Pickering, Miss Faber's American lawyer and very dear friend. Stricken with grief as he was, he was attempting to give comfort to Miss Trevelyne, who, though clearly in great anguish, still demanded to see the evidence of her dearest friend's demise.
We looked over the collection of sodden clothing, and I asked permission to view the body of Mr. Dobbs, which permission was granted, I believe, mainly because of the presence of Lawyer Pickering. He and I entered the makeshift morgue and went to the body. The deceased was lying faceup with his hands crossed on his chest, wearing an expression of what seemed to be mild surprise, but then, I suppose many of us exit this world with just such a look on our faces. I asked if an autopsy was going to be performed and was told that none was planned since it was plain that the man had drowned.
I asked that the body be stripped, and at Mr. Pickering's insistence, it was done. Clumsily and churlishly done, to be sure, by two disgruntled courthouse workers, but done, nonetheless. I then commenced my examination.
There were, of course, many contusions on the man's arms, legs, and body, entirely consistent with the body being tossed about in the surf and against the rocks of the shore. Still, to me, it seemed peculiar that the contusions did not have the purplish hue that occurs with bruises to a person who still has blood flowing in his veins. Putting on my gloves and raising the corpse's head as the body lay supine on the table, I felt a curious softness in the back of the skull and I drew Mr. Pickering's attention to it.
"I believe the man was hit on the back of the head before entering the water," I stated, and Mr. Pickering, upon making his own examination, concurred. "Hit very hard," he said, nodding, obviously thinking of the implications of this fact.
We then went back out into the hall with the intention of finding the attending physician. We sent one of the men off to look for him, and as he hurried off, we saw that Mistress Pimm had entered the building. She was plainly still shaky from her recent illness, but yet she stood erect, and, upon seeing Miss Trevelyne, nodded. Miss Trevelyne nodded back. There were no tears, no wails of grief and despair. Even in my own distress, I could not help but admire the stoical nature of these New England Yankee women, one of whom was sure she had lost her beloved classmates and her dearest friend, and the other who had lost virtually her entire school and all the girls who had been entrusted to her care.
I will now digress to the subject of Mistress Pimm's illness and a very important fact that pertains to it: The school mistress was not the only one suddenly stricken by sickness on that fateful day. You see, the plan for the outing was to include both me and Mistress Pimm, as well as Mr. Sackett, the Science and Math teacher. Mistress Pimm and myself were to instruct the girls on how to set out a proper picnic on the grass, and Mr. Sackett would instruct them, before and after the luncheon, on the nature of the flora and fauna of the seashore and help them collect specimens for future study. Such was not to be.
On the morning of the excursion, Miss Faber, bouncing up and down and off the walls in her usual enthusiasm over an outing or, for that matter, anything out of the ordinary, left me downstairs to continue packing the provisions as she returned to her friends upstairs. While I did so, assisted ably by the girls Annie and Sylvie, Mr. Dobbs did come upon me and insist that I try a cup of a new brew of coffee lately brought up from South America and said to be the finest thing of its kind. Although I had never particularly liked the company of handyman Dobbs, I could not, as Head of Staff, decently refuse. I took the cup and Dobbs hurried off with another cup for Mr. Sackett. It was, actually, quite good and I drank it down grate-fully ... a tinge of bitterness in it, though ... and twenty minutes later I was in bed, barely conscious, with the worst case of the grippe I had ever experienced. I have never been of a sickly nature and this came as a complete surprise to me. I assumed, in my near delirium, that the outing would be called off, with me unable to attend and lend my protection, but such was not to be. Neither Mistress Pimm nor I knew of the other's distress and incapacity, and so the day went on as planned, but not as planned by us, oh no, but as planned by the kidnappers, as kidnappers I now believe them to be.
Upon seeing me there in the courthouse, Mistress Pimm approached and demanded what I knew. I informed her that, aside from the articles of clothing and other personal items, nothing of the girls has been found. I told her of my examination of Dobbs and the following conversation ensued:
"Where is he?" she asked, looking about.
"In this room here, Mistress," said Mr. Pickering, "but he is..."
She brushed by him and opened the door and entered the room. She did not shrink from the sight of the nak*d body, but went right up to it and waited for me to lift the head to show her the concussion.