see the teardrop shape of the scales. Her heart was beating wildly as she drew the pouch from beneath her nightgown. She loosened the drawstrings again and this time shook out just a very few of the teardrop-shaped ovals. Taking one, she held it up to the scales painted on the vase. It fit perfectly, shimmering against the porcelain with a slight iridescence that pulsed once and suddenly seemed to magnify. The glimmer soon spread over the entire vase, enveloping it in a luminous glow.
Hannah pressed her cheek against the cool porcelain of the vase. She felt herself grow calm. She stoodfor perhaps two minutes with her cheek and her palms touching the curve of the vase.
When finally she looked up, the tail was closer than she thought. It brushed the crown of her head. She had wondered before if the creature really was a fish and if it was male or female, although there was something that suggested femininity. All that wondering seemed unnecessary now. It was not exactly a fish in any definable way. But it was female, of that she was sure, and it seemed very powerful. It had to be powerful, for the artist had depicted a storm-lashed sea yet this creature was swimming easily through the waves, not simply easily but almost joyously. She looked up at the way in which the tail flipped from the crest of the wave. Whatever the creature was, it looked free, utterly free!
She pressed her mouth close to the vase now and whispered as if speaking to some spirit contained within it. “What just happened? Is it me? Did I make this glow?” But there was only silence, and her whispered words spiraled into the soft vaporous radiance that had spread from the vase and begun to stealacross the room. As soon as she tucked the crystal back into the pouch, the glow began to fade, like a tide ebbing back to sea.
Hannah stayed another few minutes then went back upstairs to her room on the third floor.
During the night, a land breeze came up and swept the fog back out to sea.
It was not a dream . That was Hannah’s first thought upon waking. She knew that last night had really happened. The crystals in the pouch were not mere ovals, but perfect replicas of the scales of the mysterious tail on the vase. Hannah’s head had begun to blur, and then it struck her with a great force. I have broken a rule! The number one rule Mr. Marston had laid down was that Hannah should only be in the family rooms for work.
Yesterday, Hannah had felt truly blessed that she had a place to live near the sea, and soon would have a dollar and three quarters in her pocket. But she had risked it all last night. Had she beencaught, she would have been summarily dismissed without so much as a cent. The question was, how had she forgotten? Her recklessness chilled her blood. Think! Think, Hannah! Think before you do anything so foolish again .
7 THE PAINTER
T HE NEXT MORNING , the house was a beehive of activity. As soon as Hannah had finished polishing the front-door knocker and took her rags and polishing paste back to the kitchen, Mrs. Bletchley called out.
“Change out of your scullery uniform and put on upstairs clothes. They needs you on the third floor to help with the trunks.”
“I don’t have an upstairs uniform,” Hannah protested.
“Oh, yes, you do. We keep spares for the scullery girls. Go down past the silver pantry to the first door on the left. Dotty’s is hanging there. It’s got her name on it.”
Hannah went to the closet. There were three hangers with Dotty’s name. One had a black dress, one a pink, and one a lilac color. Each had a different apron. Which one was she supposed to wear? Hannah had no idea. She rushed back into the kitchen.
“Which one, Mrs. Bletchley? There are three.”
“The lilac one, of course.”
Hannah blinked. She wasn’t sure what was so “of course” about it, but she hurried back and scrambled into the uniform. She was trying to fasten it when she heard footsteps. It was Mrs. Bletchley. “I’ll help you
Hannah pressed her cheek against the cool porcelain of the vase. She felt herself grow calm. She stoodfor perhaps two minutes with her cheek and her palms touching the curve of the vase.
When finally she looked up, the tail was closer than she thought. It brushed the crown of her head. She had wondered before if the creature really was a fish and if it was male or female, although there was something that suggested femininity. All that wondering seemed unnecessary now. It was not exactly a fish in any definable way. But it was female, of that she was sure, and it seemed very powerful. It had to be powerful, for the artist had depicted a storm-lashed sea yet this creature was swimming easily through the waves, not simply easily but almost joyously. She looked up at the way in which the tail flipped from the crest of the wave. Whatever the creature was, it looked free, utterly free!
She pressed her mouth close to the vase now and whispered as if speaking to some spirit contained within it. “What just happened? Is it me? Did I make this glow?” But there was only silence, and her whispered words spiraled into the soft vaporous radiance that had spread from the vase and begun to stealacross the room. As soon as she tucked the crystal back into the pouch, the glow began to fade, like a tide ebbing back to sea.
Hannah stayed another few minutes then went back upstairs to her room on the third floor.
During the night, a land breeze came up and swept the fog back out to sea.
It was not a dream . That was Hannah’s first thought upon waking. She knew that last night had really happened. The crystals in the pouch were not mere ovals, but perfect replicas of the scales of the mysterious tail on the vase. Hannah’s head had begun to blur, and then it struck her with a great force. I have broken a rule! The number one rule Mr. Marston had laid down was that Hannah should only be in the family rooms for work.
Yesterday, Hannah had felt truly blessed that she had a place to live near the sea, and soon would have a dollar and three quarters in her pocket. But she had risked it all last night. Had she beencaught, she would have been summarily dismissed without so much as a cent. The question was, how had she forgotten? Her recklessness chilled her blood. Think! Think, Hannah! Think before you do anything so foolish again .
7 THE PAINTER
T HE NEXT MORNING , the house was a beehive of activity. As soon as Hannah had finished polishing the front-door knocker and took her rags and polishing paste back to the kitchen, Mrs. Bletchley called out.
“Change out of your scullery uniform and put on upstairs clothes. They needs you on the third floor to help with the trunks.”
“I don’t have an upstairs uniform,” Hannah protested.
“Oh, yes, you do. We keep spares for the scullery girls. Go down past the silver pantry to the first door on the left. Dotty’s is hanging there. It’s got her name on it.”
Hannah went to the closet. There were three hangers with Dotty’s name. One had a black dress, one a pink, and one a lilac color. Each had a different apron. Which one was she supposed to wear? Hannah had no idea. She rushed back into the kitchen.
“Which one, Mrs. Bletchley? There are three.”
“The lilac one, of course.”
Hannah blinked. She wasn’t sure what was so “of course” about it, but she hurried back and scrambled into the uniform. She was trying to fasten it when she heard footsteps. It was Mrs. Bletchley. “I’ll help you
Similar Books
![Hard and Easy [High-Country Shifters 5] (Siren Publishing Ménage Everlasting)](https://fs.collectorofbookboyfriends.com/601893/thumbs/152x264/hard-and-easy-high-country-shifters-5-siren-publishing-menage-everlasting.png)
