The Emerald Sea

I started to feel queasy again, and Maria’s earlier words rang in my head: Did you come all this way to sweep floors again? Because I didn’t come all this way to peel potatoes, and I know Tamsin didn’t come to wash clothes.

  Just before he read my name, I stared down at my hands. Though they showed wear from the last week’s strenuous conditions, they’d still held up and maintained my moisturizing efforts from Blue Spring.

  “Tamsin Wright. You’ll board with Samuel Cole and provide laundry assistance to those similarly strained households.”

  Ma had almost wept when she saw the change in my hands, and now I nearly wept at what was to come for them. I was going to be spending the next six weeks working as a laundress once again.

  Bleach and lye are nothing, I told myself. Not after everything else that’s happened. Moving on to Cape Triumph and Merry is what matters.

  I accepted my assignment with faux cheerfulness, and when the list was finished, we were divided up to go to our new hosts’ homes. Considering all I’d had to do to keep everyone moving during this past week, it was more than a little unsettling to send them off to unknown places. But the Heirs assured us we’d all see each other around town, as well as at social gatherings.

  Samuel Cole didn’t impress me as a particularly warm or open man, but he had offered to take in four of us—more than any other household. During the carriage ride back to his home, which was about a mile from Constancy’s heart, I learned that he had five daughters. All but one had married and moved out, and that one—Dinah—took care of the house for him. He had room to spare—so much so that they already had a boarder: Gideon.

  “Well, that’ll make this a little more bearable,” Damaris remarked when we were preparing for bed later. She unbraided her wavy black hair and shook it out. “I won’t mind seeing his face around.”

  She, Vanessa, and Winnifred were staying at Samuel’s with me. We’d been given a large attic with two beds and a lot of drafts, but it beat sleeping outside.

  “I don’t think he’ll be around very much,” I told her. “I heard someone say he’s studying with the other ministers in town. And it’s not like you’ll be hanging around here very much either.”

  She scowled. “True. I’ll be too busy cooking with Maria.”

  “At least you’ll have company.” Winnifred held up the rough woolen nightgown we’d been given and winced. “You know, I’m really trying not to complain, but it’s hard when I remember how we used to sleep in linen and silk at the manor.”

  I shared her wistfulness. My nightgown itched so much that I was tempted to just sleep in the navy dress I’d received at the church. The only reason I didn’t was for fear of wearing it out. I had no idea if I’d get any others. Just before we came up here for the night, Samuel’s daughter Dinah gave us a curt lecture on how appreciative we should be of our new clothes and to treat them with respect.

  I tugged the nightgown on. “I wonder why Dinah’s not married yet. She’s what, mid-twenties? From what I gathered, they marry young around here.”

  “It is odd.” Vanessa’s words were smothered in a yawn. “She’s not bad looking. Her face is a bit pinched, but the blue of her eyes is lovely. Maybe she didn’t want to leave Samuel alone.”

  When Dinah woke us for breakfast the next morning, she informed us we had five minutes to be downstairs. It was a shock to get ready so quickly after the elaborate prep we’d had to do at Blue Spring. Here, I simply changed clothes, splashed water on my face, and tied the kerchief over my unbrushed hair. It was pretty much what I used to do before a day of working for Ma, which was fitting.

  “Tamsin, why is your dress so short?” demanded Dinah.

  I stopped in the kitchen doorway and looked down. Recalling my conversation in the church, I said, “Oh. I forgot to let it down last night. I’ll do it when I’m back this evening.”

  “You’ll do no such thing.” Dinah placed a platter on the table and looked me up and down, her forehead creased with disapproval. “What would the town think of us if we let you out like this? Go upstairs now, and take care of it.”

  “But . . .” I stared wistfully at the table, set with bacon and steaming corn bread. A bounty after what I’d been subsisting on in my travels.

  “You can eat when your work is done.”

  “What work is that?” asked Samuel, emerging from an adjacent hall. Gideon followed, wishing us good morning. We all responded loudly and cheerily.

  Dinah gave him an unexpectedly warm greeting too, her hard expression softening briefly before turning back to her father. “Tamsin has some mending to do. It should’ve been done before—negligence on her part.”

  “Ah. Well, she can sit and say grace with us first.”

  “Of course, Father. And after the day’s labors, I’ll have her read a passage about the consequences of negligence. Gideon, could you help me select one?”

  “I’d be happy to,” said Gideon, who actually didn’t look so happy at the prospect. “But we should keep in mind they haven’t even been here a day. The angels counsel patience and mercy, and there’s a lot our visitors don’t know yet.”

  “Well, she knew last night she was supposed to do it. And I hope it really was just negligence and not a vain attempt to show off those shoes of hers.”

  “It wasn’t!” I exclaimed. My shoes had been one of the few things I’d been allowed to keep. They were simple but refined, made of fawn-colored leather and lacing to my ankle. They’d been chosen as a sturdy, practical choice for the voyage, but they were showy by Grashond standards.

  I sank into my chair, getting a quick smile of sympathy from Damaris beside me when I whispered, “Still hard to believe she’s not married, huh?”

  Sitting briefly for grace was worse than going straight to my room, because then I got an even closer look at the food I couldn’t have. I grew heady on the aroma as Samuel prayed and offered thanks. When he finished, the others began filling their plates, and I slinked back to the attic. I took petty comfort in hearing Dinah say, “Winnifred, that is entirely too much butter. Put it back and go without for today so that you can better contemplate your gluttony.”

  By the time I’d adjusted my hem, my friends had already left for the day. The Grashond residents had made it clear to us that we’d have to start pulling our fair share immediately. We were here on their charity—well, that and whatever “donation” they extracted from Jasper’s cargo. A small cloth-wrapped bundle sat on the table, so I presumed the breakfast within was mine. With no one else around, I wolfed the food down without remorse. It was delicious. Whatever her other faults, Dinah knew how to cook.

  I’d been given directions to town last night. The way was pretty straightforward, and sun shining through the windows suggested a pleasant day. Surprisingly eager for a walk, I put on my cloak and was almost at the front door when Gideon rushed inside.

  “I forgot to bring my— Oh.” He sidestepped to avoid a collision. “I’m sorry. But this is lucky. I’d meant to catch you later, but now’s just as good a time. Wait here a moment.”

  He darted down the hall, leaving me alone and puzzled. When he returned, he held a sheaf of blank paper. “Here. This is for you.”

  I took it with shaking hands. “But how? We’re not supposed to have our belongings.”

  “This is mine,” he said. “And now it’s yours. Samuel keeps ink and pens in the common room that you’re welcome to.”

  I caught myself clenching the paper and eased up so I wouldn’t wrinkle it. The prospect of not being able to write to Merry and my family had felt so strange, making the distance between us seem bigger than usual. “Thank you. Thank you so much. You have no idea what it means to me.”

  His smile held a trace of wistfulness. “I know what it’s like to be homesick. Writing letters isn’t violating any sort of rule—just make sure you do it at night, after chores and prayers. And you’ll have to hol
d on to your letters for a while. Not much mail goes out in the winter.”

  “Right.” My brief happiness dimmed. “Because of the roads.”

  “Some mail gets out, of course. We’re not completely isolated from the world, so you’re welcome to send them if we hear of any courier headed south—but winter letters get lost a lot.”

  “I’ll take the chance—at least for our benefactor in Cape Triumph. If he knows what’s happened, maybe Jasper can help . . . somehow . . .” It was a far-fetched possibility, and Gideon and I both knew it.

  “It’s like I told you before,” he said gently, “we’ll help however we can. And you can have as much paper as you like. I have plenty, and perhaps it’ll make the time go by faster.”

  It was hard not to smile at his hopeful look. “I’m sure it will.”

  “Tamsin? What are you still doing here? You’re late.”

  I jumped at the sound of Dinah’s voice. She stood at the bottom of the stairs, looking like a specter in her starched black dress. Gideon said quickly, “My fault. I held her up.”

  Dinah frowned. “Well, let’s not waste any more time.”

  “I’m on my way to town too,” Gideon said. “I’ll walk with you.”

  Despite the sunshine, patches of snow still lingered in the shade. I was glad for the cloak and mittens and glad to be out and moving. And yes, I also liked having such nice company.

  Gideon gestured around at the barren trees. “I know it looks bleak now, but it really is beautiful once the leaves come back and everything turns green. When I first saw spring here, after growing up in Osfro, I thought I must be seeing the world as it looked when it was new, right after Uros made it.”

  “You lived in Osfro?”

  “Up until just over a year ago.”

  “Why would you come to a—” I shut my mouth, realizing what I’d been about to say.

  “A place like this?” He laughed.

  “Sorry. I didn’t mean any insult.”

  “None taken. I came here for the same reason you did.”

  “To get married?”

  “To find what I didn’t have. I was disgusted by how self-absorbed Osfro was. Everywhere I looked, I only seemed to find selfishness, materialism, and depravity. People give themselves up to excess and impulse, with no thought for— I’m sorry. I sound like I’m preaching at you in a service.”

  “Trust me, this is unlike any service I’ve ever attended.” Not the least of which was because our parish priest, Father Alphonse, had been a gray-haired, wraithlike man who always chastised me about Merry.

  Gideon gave me a knowing look, and I turned my gaze downward. “Did you attend church services often?”

  “Eh, not as often as I maybe should have.”

  “It’s okay.” I could hear his smile without seeing it. “I was the same, actually.”

  “Were you?” I glanced back, startled. “Then how are you a minister?”

  “It’s a long story. The short version is one day, I felt as though Uros was telling me to wake up and see the truth of the world. His great creation had become shallow. Showy on the outside, empty within.”

  “That’s . . . a bit disheartening.” It was the most tact I could manage.

  “I know, but it opened my eyes to looking past the way society says who’s important. What’s a noble title or expensive clothes? That doesn’t define a person’s character. Just as stained glass windows and a golden altar don’t make a church holy. I wanted to connect to Uros in a pure way, without the empty, repetitive services no one really listened to. I decided it was my calling to help others live more meaningful lives.”

  “And you decided to do it . . . here.”

  “Everyone thinks the Heirs’ way of life is harsh and stark—and it can be—but that’s because they strip away all the excess and know a person’s worth is measured by their heart and good deeds.” He stopped abruptly, blushing much as he had at our first meeting. “I am preaching at you.”

  “It was actually really eloquent. But don’t think you’ll be bringing me into the fold anytime soon,” I added. “I rather like stained glass.”

  Yet his words stirred me. My family had always worked honestly and helped others, but that had mattered little to the upper classes. And when Merry had come along, even my own neighbors had judged me by the shadow of scandal, not the light of my heart and good deeds.

  He laughed heartily at that, a warm, golden sound that wrapped around us. “I do too, to be honest. And they aren’t evil. We just can’t let outside glamour hide the truth. Look at you and how you helped your friends stay safe. Don’t let fancy dresses and jewels obscure your bravery and compassion.”

  “I don’t know that it was bravery. I just did what needed to be done.”

  He regarded me with unabashed admiration, and suddenly, I was the one flushing. “You’re brave, Tamsin. And if no one’s ever told you that, you’re spending time with the wrong people.”

  I pretended to adjust my mittens as I groped for something to say. “That’s clever, what you said about the stained glass. Those glittering colors are beautiful, but you actually can’t see through them to what’s on the other side.”

  Gideon came to a halt, his eyes wide. “That’s an incredible interpretation.”

  “Wait . . . you weren’t using the stained glass as a metaphor?”

  “Not intentionally. I’m actually no good at coming up with elegant analogies like that.”

  “You just told me plenty of elegant things.”

  “Well, talking to you is easy. Preaching to a congregation is harder. My mind freezes up, and I start sounding choppy and dry. And then I get more flustered if I think I’m boring everyone.”

  “Try writing out your sermon ahead of time.”

  Amused, he began walking again. “I do, but I was a lazy student before my revelation. If I’d paid more attention in class, maybe I could compose my thoughts better. Oh, and I’m a terrible speller too.”

  Thinking of the way my companions swooned over him, I said, “Give yourself more credit. I’m sure at least half the congregation pays attention to you.”

  The town square was coming into view, and our steps slowed as we prepared to go separate ways. Gideon clasped his hands behind his back and kicked awkwardly at a clump of ice. “Thank you for a nice walk,” he said haltingly. “I hope your day is pleasant.”

  As he turned, I blurted out, “Gideon? I . . . I’m an excellent speller. I always got good marks on my essays. If you’d like, I’ll proofread your sermons for you.” He gaped, and I suddenly felt stupid. “Sorry. I suppose it’s presumptuous for someone like me to help write the word of Uros. I just wanted a way to thank you for the paper.”

  “No, no. It’s not presumptuous at all. I’d love it. It’s just . . .” His expression wavered between enthusiasm and doubt. “It’s complicated. We’ll figure it out, but for now, don’t breathe even a hint of it to anyone.”

  “Okay . . .”

  “I’ll explain it later,” he added, seeing my bewilderment. “It’s just that the Heirs have their own ways of doing things. And doing things differently from those ways . . . isn’t always met well.”

  “Yeah,” I said. “I’m starting to figure that out.”

  CHAPTER 9

  I BEGAN MY WORKDAY IN THE HOME OF CHESTER WOODS, a widower with a spacious house located right near a large, public well along the square. He was busy clearing land on his newly purchased farm outside of town and had offered up his home as my workplace. I had a list of families needing my services, and after learning their locations from a neighbor, I came up with a plan similar to what Ma had used. I went out and gathered loads from those households closest to each other, washed them, and let them dry while I retrieved the next batch.

  I found a pen in the house and allowed myself a small break. With Gideon’s paper, I settled do
wn to compose my first letter in Grashond.

  Dear Mister Thorn,

  I’m writing to let you know that the twenty Glittering Court girls aboard the Gray Gull, along with Miss Quincy, are all alive and well. The tempest we encountered near the end of the voyage damaged our ship severely and sent us significantly off course. The other girls and I are now residing in the town of Constancy, in Grashond Colony, where we have been kindly taken in by the Heirs of Uros. You’ll find the specifics of our location on the next page, and I again want to reiterate that we are safe. Nonetheless, any immediate assistance you can offer to bring us to Cape Triumph quickly and comfortably will be very, very appreciated.

  Sincerely yours,

  Tamsin Wright

  My efficient methods more than made up for this morning’s delay, and the clothes dried quickly in the clear weather. But oh, the toll it took. By the end of the afternoon, sweat poured off me, thanks to the steam. My hands were already starting to roughen, and I knew they’d get worse. Chester kept salve in his kitchen, and I used a little each day in hopes of slowing the damage. I consoled myself with thoughts of silk gloves in Cape Triumph.

  Life fell into a stable, if dull, pattern over the next few days. The Coles maintained a rigid schedule for meals and labor, and what little chore-free time we had in the evenings was often spent in the sitting room. Samuel or Gideon would choose a passage from the sacred texts, ask one of us to read it aloud, and then encourage discussion. Although “discussion” mostly seemed to involve having us parrot back whatever the book had said.

  Afterward, we had a small amount of supervised “socializing” time in the sitting room, but it was hard to speak freely with Samuel or Dinah around. Even if they weren’t directly involved in a conversation, one of them always hovered watchfully nearby. Conversation grew easier when Gideon would join us. He brought that infectious good nature with him and liked talking to us about Osfro and what he’d missed in his time away. He also helped us adjust to Grashond. As an outsider, he had a good sense for which of the Heirs’ customs we might accidentally overlook.