Nanny’s shawl tighter around my shoulder. All isn’t well. We’ve got a dark path ahead of us, the beginning of a journey full of unknowns. For all I know, the path just between the village and Nanny’s house is lined with enemies. Maybe I won’t even make it that far. Maybe I won’t even get to tell her good-bye.
A lump grows in my throat, and I realize that, for all my ideas about what to tell Harper’s mam, I haven’t thought of anything to write to Nanny. If I tell her where I’m really going, she’ll send Sir Stephen after me. She’s spent the last fourteen years of her life taking care of me, keeping me safe. How can I tell her that I don’t care about being safe anymore? That I’d rather sit on a throne and wear silks and satins than stay with her?
Dear Nanny,
I compose in my head.
I believe that my enemies are closing in on us. I don’t want to endanger you, so I am leaving. . . .
That sounds so noble and high-minded that I’m proud of myself. I didn’t know I had that in me. Maybe once I come out of hiding, I will be a better person. I will go down in history as Cecilia the Good. Generations from now people will talk about how kind and gentle I was, how saintly.
Harper stops in front of me so suddenly that my face slams into his harp, the wires digging into my skin.
“Ow!” I complain loudly. “Double dragon drat, Harper, give me some warning next time. Now I’m going to have bruises in stripes all over my face.”
“Shh!” Harper says. “Listen!”
Above the racket of the crickets and other noisy night insects, there’s a swell of sound coming from ahead of us, a keening. It’s even eerier than the village watchman’s “All’s well . . .” It’s sadder, too, because even though the sound is far away and I can’t make out any words, it’s clearly the wailing of someone who does not believe that anything’s well, someone whose world has just fallen to pieces.
Then the wailing gets closer, and I can make out a word: “Ce-ciii-liiia . . .”
“It’s Nanny!” I hiss at Harper, and take off running. “Maybe she’s hurt!”
I promptly trip on a rock in the path and tumble to theground.
More bruises to go with the wire marks,
I think. But I spring up right away, calling out, “Nanny! Over here!”
Harper pulls me back.
“Hush!” he cries. “What if she’s the bait in some trap? You need to be quiet!”
I jerk away from him.
“Nanny! I’m coming!” I yell.
Now I can see the glow of a lamp up ahead on the path. I sprint forward, toward the glow. I can see it’s just Nanny, by herself, out searching in the dark. As soon as I draw near, she all but leaps at me, wrapping me in a hug.
“Cecilia, child—I thought I’d lost you,” she murmurs into my hair. “I thought—”
“I just had to go tell Harper something,” I tell her.
Harper catches up with us just then. I’m amazed to see that he was clever enough to hide his harp and knapsack before stepping into the light. Nanny draws him into a hug too.
“And you were kind enough to walk Cecilia home,” she marvels. “I’m so grateful.”
Harper’s eyes goggle out at me. Both of us now have our heads smashed in against Nanny’s shoulders, the lamp clutched between us. Nanny gives no sign that she’s ever going to let go. Harper starts making faces at me, his expression clearly asking,
What do we do now?
I push away from the hug.
“Nanny, I’m fine; everything’s fine. I didn’t mean to worry you.”
“No, no—I think you saved us both,” she says dazedly.
“What?”
Nanny releases Harper from her hug and straightens her skirt. She smoothes back her hair.
“I woke up, and you were gone,” she says. “I thought maybe you’d just stepped out to the privy, but I went to check, to see . . .” She says this matter-of-factly, as if I would expect her to be so paranoid. “It’s a ways from the cottage, you know. . . .”
I wait, because it’s obvious that she has more to tell me than the
A lump grows in my throat, and I realize that, for all my ideas about what to tell Harper’s mam, I haven’t thought of anything to write to Nanny. If I tell her where I’m really going, she’ll send Sir Stephen after me. She’s spent the last fourteen years of her life taking care of me, keeping me safe. How can I tell her that I don’t care about being safe anymore? That I’d rather sit on a throne and wear silks and satins than stay with her?
Dear Nanny,
I compose in my head.
I believe that my enemies are closing in on us. I don’t want to endanger you, so I am leaving. . . .
That sounds so noble and high-minded that I’m proud of myself. I didn’t know I had that in me. Maybe once I come out of hiding, I will be a better person. I will go down in history as Cecilia the Good. Generations from now people will talk about how kind and gentle I was, how saintly.
Harper stops in front of me so suddenly that my face slams into his harp, the wires digging into my skin.
“Ow!” I complain loudly. “Double dragon drat, Harper, give me some warning next time. Now I’m going to have bruises in stripes all over my face.”
“Shh!” Harper says. “Listen!”
Above the racket of the crickets and other noisy night insects, there’s a swell of sound coming from ahead of us, a keening. It’s even eerier than the village watchman’s “All’s well . . .” It’s sadder, too, because even though the sound is far away and I can’t make out any words, it’s clearly the wailing of someone who does not believe that anything’s well, someone whose world has just fallen to pieces.
Then the wailing gets closer, and I can make out a word: “Ce-ciii-liiia . . .”
“It’s Nanny!” I hiss at Harper, and take off running. “Maybe she’s hurt!”
I promptly trip on a rock in the path and tumble to theground.
More bruises to go with the wire marks,
I think. But I spring up right away, calling out, “Nanny! Over here!”
Harper pulls me back.
“Hush!” he cries. “What if she’s the bait in some trap? You need to be quiet!”
I jerk away from him.
“Nanny! I’m coming!” I yell.
Now I can see the glow of a lamp up ahead on the path. I sprint forward, toward the glow. I can see it’s just Nanny, by herself, out searching in the dark. As soon as I draw near, she all but leaps at me, wrapping me in a hug.
“Cecilia, child—I thought I’d lost you,” she murmurs into my hair. “I thought—”
“I just had to go tell Harper something,” I tell her.
Harper catches up with us just then. I’m amazed to see that he was clever enough to hide his harp and knapsack before stepping into the light. Nanny draws him into a hug too.
“And you were kind enough to walk Cecilia home,” she marvels. “I’m so grateful.”
Harper’s eyes goggle out at me. Both of us now have our heads smashed in against Nanny’s shoulders, the lamp clutched between us. Nanny gives no sign that she’s ever going to let go. Harper starts making faces at me, his expression clearly asking,
What do we do now?
I push away from the hug.
“Nanny, I’m fine; everything’s fine. I didn’t mean to worry you.”
“No, no—I think you saved us both,” she says dazedly.
“What?”
Nanny releases Harper from her hug and straightens her skirt. She smoothes back her hair.
“I woke up, and you were gone,” she says. “I thought maybe you’d just stepped out to the privy, but I went to check, to see . . .” She says this matter-of-factly, as if I would expect her to be so paranoid. “It’s a ways from the cottage, you know. . . .”
I wait, because it’s obvious that she has more to tell me than the
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