where she was, reminding herself that her own missing man was only a channel away, and not on that more distant shore from which travelers, resigned or otherwise, never returned. She felt a chill wind on her heart – no other way to explain it – that sent her into the sitting room to look into the mending basket she had neglected since Able left. She could keep her hands busy, even as her mind raced.
The basket never entirely emptied out, not with little boys or bigger ones with stockings to darn and cuffs to let out. It had become a bit of a family joke. She looked in the basket. “My goodness,” she said. “What mischief is this?”
A small box with a red thread around it nestled between the legs of a pair of Able’s smallclothes, which ordinarily would never find their way into the downstairs sewing basket. What are you up to, husband, she thought, and picked up the box.
Who doesn’t love a present? She opened the box to see a gold locket, heart-shaped, on a plain gold chain. She wondered what damage this must have done to their household expenses, as she opened a note. Meri, if you yearn for me in interesting ways, this will make you laugh, she read to herself, thinking how much she wanted to laugh precisely now. I know it is genteel to leave a lock of one’s hair to a beloved person. You also know I am a bastard with no gentility. Your own very able, Able.
Her face already flaming, she looked around to make sure the boys were occupied in the kitchen and opened the locket. She gasped and smothered her laughter with both hands over her mouth; one wouldn’t do.
“You, Master Six, are a rascal,” she whispered, as she stared down at coarse, curly hair that certainly didn’t come from his head.
The locket and chain tucked nicely down the front of her bodice. When Lady St. Anthony arrived in time for dinner, Meridee still smiled.
Chapter Sixteen
Perhaps it was a conspiracy hatched by Headmaster Croker. Perhaps Master Harry Ferrier had a sixth sense about lonely ladies. The addition of Grace and George St. Anthony to the Six household found itself augmented at dinnertime by Able’s substitute instructor, located by Nick Bonfort, a boy of initiative who still felt sadly neglected.
Master Ferrier came over one night at the dinner hour. He knocked on the door, which little Pegeen answered. Meridee heard her from the dining room, calling out, “Miz Six, I don’t know what to do!”
Meridee put her napkin on the table and rose immediately. Nick rose, too. “Nick, you can keep eating,” she said.
“No, Mam,” he said, in that voice she knew from her own husband, the one that indicated she had no real say in the matter because his mind was made up. “I’m coming, too. We don’t know who is at the door.”
They walked to the wide-open front door to see Master Ferrier, grinning from ear to ear. He took off his hat and held it out like an urchin petitioning coins.
“Please, Mum, I want to eat with ladies and avoid Thaddeus Croker’s evil butler,” he said, his eyes lively.
Meridee laughed and ushered him inside. “Grace and I understand your peculiar dilemma,” she assured him. “I’ll take care of him, Pegeen.”
“Did I do t’wrong thing, Miz?” the little one asked, her eyes anxious.
“Not at all,” Meridee replied. “I’ve already told you never to trust a navy man, haven’t I?” That earned a laugh from the quiet instructor.
“Aye, Miz,” the scullery maid said. She thought a moment. “But I see navy men all around here.”
“You did right to call for me. We can trust this one.” She patted the child’s cheek. “Now please help Mrs. Perry bring in the beef roast.”
“You have a way with children,” Master Ferrier said, as they adjourned to the dining room. “And with the rest of us old tars, I suspect, eh, Nick?”
Nick smiled, obviously happy to be lumped with old tars. Able was right to insist upon you, Meridee thought. “The evil butler is preying upon you?” she teased, to lighten the mood.
“Aye, Miz Six,” Master Ferrier teased back. “Bertram is a demon from hell.”
“Come now, sir,” she admonished.
He ushered Nick ahead, but the boy seemed inclined to remain, which touched Meridee’s heart. She knew she had a stalwart defender in Nick Bonfort.
“Very well, Nick, you listen, too,” the master said, drawing him into the conspiracy. “Your headmaster knows his sister Grace St.