Letters for Phoebe by Sally Britton

Prologue

Surrey, England, 1808

Phoebe Kimball tied the last of the sticky treats in a handkerchief, already questioning if it was wise to nip the Chelsea buns from the kitchen instead of the much less messy ginger biscuits. But tonight was not about avoiding messes. It was about bidding farewell to one of her dearest friends. While Phoebe liked most of the girls at school well enough, there were four she considered as close to her as sisters.

She gathered up the buns and picked her way back through the kitchen, around work tables, to the doorway where Daphne waited. She nearly giggled at the way her friend stood, as rigid as a soldier on watch for an enemy.

“Hurry, Phoebe,” Daphne whispered.

Phoebe stepped directly next to her friend as she spoke. “Already done.”

Daphne jumped. Truly, Phoebe’s friend was not one to break the rules. Sneaking out to meet their friends already made her nervous, but borrowing things from the kitchen had stretched her.

Phoebe offered what she hoped was a reassuring grin. “How many times have we done this, and still you are nervous?” She turned to lead the way to the back door. She barely heard Daphne’s step behind her. They knew well enough which floorboards to avoid. They had been at Mrs. Vernal’s Seminary for Distinguished Young Ladies for years.

“Not nervous,” Daphne answered. “Just appropriately cautious.”

Phoebe had to swallow a giggle. “Of course.”

Though amused in the moment, Phoebe had depended upon Daphne’s good sense and caution on more than one occasion. While Phoebe considered herself a planner, she sometimes forgot to keep herself within the bounds of propriety when working toward her goals.

The lawn stretched before them, the moonlight showing the way as clear, though the shadows of trees and shrubs remained black. She shivered, though it was not too cold for an April night.

When they came near the gazebo, she could hear Marah and Isabel’s quiet voices. Good. They had already arrived. Her heart dropped as she and Daphne went to the steps. Phoebe didn’t want this to be their last time together, but Marah had to leave. She hadn’t expected to lose practical Marah first. She was so young, but word of her father’s death had come as well as a summons to return home.

Phoebe swallowed back her hurt on behalf of her friend when she heard Isabel’s voice, snapping her attention back to the present.

“I know what might help,” Isabel said to Marah, beckoning Daphne and Phoebe to her. “Your best friends with your favorite—”

“Chelsea buns!” Phoebe forced a bright smile, knowing they could see her expression well enough as she held up her package of smushed sweets.

“Phoebe, Daphne,” Marah said suspiciously. “You didn’t make those, did you?”

“We didn’t make them.” Phoebe’s smile settled to something more natural. Tonight was about giving Marah a proper send-off. She had to remember that. “We borrowed them from the kitchen.”

Daphne sounded more amused than disapproving when she spoke. “Yes, and I do not think they’ll want them back after what Phoebe’s done to them.”

Isabel laughed, but Marah only shook her head. “You shouldn’t have taken them. The last time Phoebe stole from the kitchens, she had to teach the first years how to sip their tea correctly. I don’t want you to—”

Daphne stepped forward, laying a gentle hand on Marah’s arm. “You’re leaving tomorrow, Marah. You needn’t worry about us.”

Though Phoebe could have done without the reminder of her punishment, she shrugged off the concern. Then she looked about the gazebo. They were missing someone rather important. “Where is Lavinia? It’s not like her to call a meeting and then be the last to show.”

A stern voice came behind them, mimicking their headmistress. “I won’t begin until everyone is sitting quietly with their hands in the laps and their eyes on me.” Lavinia stepped up onto the gazebo with her nose in the air, hands clasped neatly before her in the spitting image of the stern proprietress of the school.

“Who invited Mrs. Vernal?” Isabel asked, voice dripping with disapproval.

Lavinia laughed, breaking her act and coming to join the other girls. “I’ve a surprise for you. When have you ever known Mrs. Vernal to say that?”

Phoebe winced. “Once. Before the Latin test.” The Latin test Phoebe had failed rather miserably.

The girls giggled as they settled onto the blankets spread on the wooden planks of the gazebo. Phoebe settled the snacks next to her, safely wrapped in her handkerchiefs. The laundry maid would not thank Phoebe for the extra sticky linens to clean.

Lavinia pulled a