I had forgotten that Clara no longer bent to my requests. With a sigh, I painstakingly scrubbed my dishes, disgusted by the wrinkles the water put in my fingers. I debated whether or not to tell Clara of my plan, and decided against it. She was vexing me that night, and she would surely call me ridiculous for even caring about Mr. Wortham’s challenge. I was to do it alone, then.
So when everything was clean, I went to my bedchamber and closed the door. The sooner I slept, the sooner I could prove Mr. Wortham wrong. He didn’t believe I was capable of the tasks required of his occupation. The fishermen always met atthe docks early in the morning to empty their traps. If I made it before dawn, I could empty them all myself and leave the bags of fish on the shore along with a note from me to Mr. Wortham.
I couldtryto empty the traps, at least. How difficult could it be? Even if I emptied just one, my point would be proven.
I giggled against my pillow, and my laughter grew inside me until I couldn’t contain it. All the pressure and anxiety I had been feeling came pouring out through my laughter as I imagined the look on Mr. Wortham’s face when he read my note. Perhaps my confidence could grow if I accomplished this small thing. Perhaps when I attended to my duties at Brackenridge Hall the next day, I would feel more capable of capturing Lord Trowbridge’s attention. I had always told myself I could accomplish anything I set my mind to, even if reality had tried to convince me otherwise.
My laughter was muffled in my blanket, but my entire body shook with my unexpected mirth.
I could hardly even eat cooked fish, but tonight…
Tonight I would have to touch them with my bare hands.
Chapter Ten
“We know what we are,
but we know not what we may be.”
Each time my eyes closed, they sprung open again with undying excitement. Stealing the love letter from Mr. Wortham had not been enough. He needed to see that I was capable of more than just quiet deceit in a moment luck brought to me. I could formulate my own plans and carry them out without any qualms.
At four, I rolled out of bed, careful not to rustle the blankets or creak the floorboards. Clara would surely object to my outing, so I didn’t want to wake her. I felt for my writing desk in the dark as my eyes adjusted and wrote a quick note to Mr. Wortham. I was sure my penmanship was appalling, but I doubted he would notice. He would be too focused on the words, not their appearance. I giggled again, but slapped my hand over my mouth to mask the sound. When I finished, I stood and held the note up to my small window, letting the pearly moonlight bounce off the small, misshapen words.
To Mr. James Wortham,
I grew tired of ‘threading a needle through fabric’ and decided to assist you. Have I proven you wrong? If not, please let me know what I must do, because surely I am capable.
Always at your service,
C.L.
I folded the paper and set it on my desk while I changed. I wore my darkest dress, an emerald green that would hopefully help me blend into the night. I didn’t fret much over my hair, letting it loose over my shoulders with just two pins to keep it from falling in my eyes. I retrieved my note and tucked it under my sleeve. I didn’t trust my boot to keep it dry if I had to wade into the water. My heart fluttered with nervousness. I hardly knew what to expect.
With all the arrangements in place, I grabbed my cloak and sneaked down the stairs and out the front door. I was pierced by the coldness of the morning, the chill, damp air wrapping around my arms and legs as I walked. Tendrils of light threaded through the sky in the distance. On mornings when I couldn’t sleep, I often watched out my window as the fishermen arrived by the coast. It was always half past five when they pulled the traps out one at a time, lifted them to the sand, opened the latches, and dumped the contents into crates.
It seemed simple enough. I had roughly one hour to empty the traps, leave my note, and return home unnoticed.
But now that I was fully awake and shivering in the cold, I was beginning to doubt the wisdom of my plan. I banished the worry from my mind. If I arrived at the docks and realized it was too difficult, I could return home and Mr. Wortham would neverknow that I had failed. But the mereprospectof success bore me forward with a devious smile on my lips.
My heart pounded hard in my chest, and I walked faster. Fear was catching up to me now, stepping on my heels as I hurried down the incline of stone and dirt to reach the boats. It was vastly improper to be out—especially at this hour—alone. I was beginning to wish I had invited Clara to accompany me. The task would be easier with an extra set of hands.
I surveyed the area with a fast sweep of my gaze, half-expecting to see a pair of menacing eyes glowing in the dark. Relieved, I determined that I was alone. Calling on the excitement I felt before, I rushed forward and stepped onto the thin wooden docks. Water splashed up between the planks, spilling over my boots.
There was enough light now to see six heavy ropes bobbing in the water with the gentle waves. I reached forward and tested my strength on one of the ropes, and it moved slightly. I pulled harder. The worn rope scratched against my hands, and I felt it lift only to drop again with the weight of dozens of fish. After taking a step back, I paused to think, rubbing my palms against my skirts. It would be difficult, but not impossible.
Stepping off the docks, I moved quickly toward the boats. They were anchored to shore, several empty wooden crates stacked inside. I lifted them out and positioned them along the sand where I could easily reach them once I pulled the traps out of the water.
Satisfied with the arrangement, I walked back to the docks. The water level seemed to become drastically deeper just a few feet away from where the traps were placed, so I pulled on the ropes to drag the cages a little closer to shore. After rolling up my sleeves, I grasped the first rope and tugged. I had to lean back for added weight.
The trap rose higher in the water, and I moved my hands down the rope for a better grip and pulled again. The rusted metal on top of the trap came into view. Inside, were the brown shiny shells of some sea creature. I couldn’t tell what they were in the dim light, but I wasn’t sure I wanted to know. Grunting, I heaved the trap onto the docks, but only halfway. I stopped to catch my breath and gasped when I noticed the rope sliding out of its knot around the handle of the trap.
I dropped the rope and lunged forward. The trap was slipping, rattling over the edge, only inches from falling back into the water. Without thinking, I fell forward and thrust my hands toward it. The weight of the cage was too much, and it pulled me forward by my fingers, which were wedged inside the trap. I cried out in pain. Jerking one hand free, I used it to grasp desperately at the edge of the docks. Panic blurred my vision. A horrifying thought struck me.The trap is heavy enough to pull me under the water.
My hand was still stuck, and the pain was blinding. My wedged fingers held all the weight of the trap now, and it crashed against the underside of the docks. I screamed, trying to twist my hand free, but the trap only clamped harder on my fingers. Pain shot up my arm, and the edges of my vision sparked in black and white. I pulled against the trap, hard, but that brought on a series of popping noises that only intensified the pain and my lightheadedness. I was slipping closer to the water. The sound of sobbing reached my ears, but I was unsure if it was coming from my own voice. My hand was on fire, and my head was clouded by tears and heat.
I didn’t know if I could still feel my fingers.
Crying out, I shook my hand roughly, with all my strength, and finally felt the trap sliding away. The change was abrupt, and the new onslaught of pain intense. I was held only by two fingers now, and I bit my lip to focus on something other thanthe pain. With one last hoarse scream, I shook my arm at the elbow and released my hand from the trap’s unrelenting teeth.
