“A little,” he said.
She showed him the name written out on the note and touched each letter, sounding it out for him.
“Mr. Nate Trawler,” the boy reiterated confidently.
“He’s a fishmonger.”
“Don’t worry, miss. I’ll find him.”
She handed the boy the second loaf and the coins. “Go directly to the train station,” she instructed.
“Yes, miss,” he said.
“And mind this, if you make off with that money, Mr. Trawler will be the one looking for you,” she warned.
“No, miss. I promise. I’ll find Mr. Trawler and bring him to you,” he said before scampering off.
Annabel watched until he disappeared from her sight before she made the short walk home, taking small bites of her loaf as she walked, wondering if Mrs. Taylor would have the strength to eat the rest.
She’d subsisted on watery vegetable soup that Annabel had made by boiling vegetables in water as she’d seen Mrs. Taylor do many times before. And although the results weren’t the same, Annabel felt reassured by the few weak sips Mrs. Taylor and Rupert had accepted.
Silence greeted Annabel as she reentered the shop. Neither Mrs. Taylor nor Rupert had woken while she’d been out. Her body weakened with relief as if it had been held together by fear alone. She leaned with her back against the door and slid to the floor.
How had life turned dark so quickly? It seemed as if years had passed since that magical day she’d spent with Henry—since he’d kissed her outside this very door.Will I see him again? Will I feel such happiness again?
She longed to feel as carefree and weightless as she had that day when life felt exciting and full of possibilities.But it had all been a lie. Life is cruel, and happiness is nothing more than a magician’s illusion. While I kissed Henry, Rupert and Mrs. Taylor lay deathly ill, and now they might die.Pulling her knees to her chest, she bowed her head and let the tears flow freely down her cheeks.
*
By the timeViolet strode into the classroom on Wednesday afternoon, Henry was already busy distributing the ink bottles. “How thoughtful of you, Henry.” The headmistress dropped her work bag next to her podium. “I’ve had such a busy day of it today. Did you come early to visit with my brother?”
“Yes,” Henry lied. His early arrival had nothing to do with Bastin and everything to do with Anne. He’d thought of nothing but the moment he’d meet with her again in the classroom. The days since he’d last seen her on Saturday had passed as slowly as a march to the gallows.
“We will continue helping the students with their writing again today. I might give them a bit of dictation. Then we will proceed with individual corrections. Some students are more advanced than others, so I’ll give them additional writing exercises.”
Henry smiled and thought how pleased Violet would be when Anne walked through the door. Violet had been upset when she’d said she wouldn’t be returning, but Henry knew that things were very different now.
A bell sounded, breaking into Henry’s thoughts. “Is it time to begin?”
“That’s the first bell to alert our boarding students that their self-study hours begin in five minutes. They’ll start moving to the library or their rooms. Our working ladies should be coming into the classroom now. A second bell will sound next, indicating the start of the class hour.”
As she spoke, two ladies entered the class and took their seats.
“Welcome back,” the headmistress said.
More students followed, assuming the seats they’d occupied during the first class. Henry’s eyes moved to the door as he waited for Anne to enter the classroom. He stood with his hands clasped behind his back, stiffening with disappointment as each student entered. Anne was not amongst them.
The shrill bell sounded a second time.
“Would you be so kind as to close the door, Mr. Hudsyn?”
Henry moved to the door and peered into the empty hallway. His heart lifted when he saw a dark-haired, slim-figured woman in the distance, but plummeted again as she turned and hurried in the opposite direction. He sighed and he closed the door.He’d been too free with Anne and frightened her away. He should have known better. After all, life had a way of snatching happiness out from under the unsuspecting man.
“Now, ladies, if you will ready your books and quill pens, I will begin a short dictation, and Mr. Hudsyn will stroll the aisles to assist those in need of help.”
Henry forced himself to appear interested as he peered at the composition books, some neatly composed and some so ink-blotted and scrawled they would have earned any schoolboy several lashes. Violet’s method of teaching was preferable. No lashing had ever helped him learn better.
Henry sighed. He’d long been free of the master’s cane, but he’d gladly feel its sting again if it meant seeing Anne walk into the classroom.
