The Kings had been lucky enough to secure a berth on the ship, which consisted of two cots, separated by a table, on which was a flickering lamp, which teetered back and forth with the waves.
Hetty lay on one cot, in the depths of misery, while Sara and Felicity sat on the other.
“Are you sure neither of you want anything from the galley?” Sara, being the only one in the small room who wasn’t ill, asked.
“Some ginger tea for me,” Felicity said. “And perhaps a cup for Aunt Hetty as well?”
Getting up very carefully so as not to fall inside the heaving boat, Sara exited the room in search of the galley.
Alec and Davey had gone to the gentlemen’s smoking lounge to play cards. Sara, a bit perturbed by the odors coming from that area of the ship, went to find Cecily.
She finally found her in the ladies’ salon. It was nearly empty, save for one cross-looking teenage girl who was bent over needlework as an older woman--her mother or governess, perhaps--looked on. An upright piano, decorated with a florid hand-embroidered scarf, stood in the corner, somehow anchored firmly to the parlour floor.
Cecily, probably grateful, Sara thought, to not be bent over needlework, was seated at a table in a quiet corner next to a large porthole. A pretty electric lamp cast its warm light over her golden hair and cherubic features, making her look, Sara thought, more angelic than ever.
Cecily was quietly singing to herself, bent over sheets of music.
“Quoi ici?” Sara asked. Cecily, absorbed didn’t look up. Sara reached for it. “Qu’est-ce que c’est?”
Looking up, Cecily gave an awkward, but bemused, half smile.
“It’s Vivaldi’s ‘Sventurata navicella,’” she replied sheepishly.
“Vivaldi?” Sara asked, surprised. “I didn’t know you were interested in classical composers.”
“Yes, it’s just ‘Gingham-checked Jenny and the Old Turkey Tom,’ for little old Cecily,” Cecily joked, and the two laughed. “Izzy sent this to me,” she continued. “I’ve sort of been working on it. Izzy kind of hoped we two could sing it together at graduation.” Sara looked intrigued.
“Why did you keep it all to yourself, you sly little thing?”
“Well, with no one to play the piano for me except Mother…Felicity doesn’t have time, and I don’t really think she plays anymore. If Mother and Father or Aunt Hetty saw me working on a new song, they’d probably think it was more depressing funeral music and tell me to go outside and get some fresh air and a fresh perspective.”
Sara laughed.
“Also, I have this. It’s a little easier than the Vivaldi. Izzy said it was a song her mother sang to them when they were little. Father knows it. It’s so pretty.”
Sara looked it over. “I’m hopeless at the piano,” Cecily said. “Perhaps you could plunk it out?”
* * *
“Looks like rain,” Morgan was saying to his brother as they batted tennis balls back and forth at each other. Arthur, Morgan, Izzy and Dermot were having tea in back of the Pettibones’ house. Arthur and Morgan had been playing several sets of tennis, while Izzy, clad in an elegant white dress, tied with a wide, sky blue satin sash, sat under a lacy parasol and spoke politely with Dermot.
“You want to play, Iz?” asked Morgan.
“Play?” asked Dermot in surprise.
“Izzy’s a terrific athlete,” Morgan explained proudly. Dermot looked horrified.
“Morgan,” Izzy began as if talking to a child. “You know I don’t play contact sports. I have no desire to be involved in a contest between you rowdy boys.”
Arthur and Morgan stared open-mouthed at Izzy. They looked at each other, rolled their eyes, and headed toward the cucumber sandwiches and tea cake.
“That’s all right,” Morgan said, trying to tease his sister into playing. “She probably doesn’t want to get her pretty little dress dirty.”
Arthur laughed and joined in. “Or mess up her hair.”
Izzy was looking sweetly dangerous. “Darlings, you know I prefer Isolde. Really,” she said, turning to Dermot. “My brothers insist on calling me this childish, tomboyish nickname they invented, no matter how many times I tell them to stop.”
Arthur wrinkled his brow. “What?” The Pettibone boys looked at his sister as if she’d gone mad. They could usually mock Izzy until she had to show them up, but this was an entirely new Izzy they were seeing.
“I’ve told you a thousand times I hate being called ‘Izzy’ .”
Arthur looked down at his cucumber sandwich and found that he had lost his appetite. Then, he looked from Dermot to Izzy and back again. “Oh, I see,” Arthur said knowingly: Izzy was clearly putting on a show for Dermot. He turned to Dermot. “On second thought, I believe I have to read up on malarial infections. You and Isolde enjoy yourselves.”
Arthur marched inside, angry. Unfortunately, he ran into his father, who had just emerged from his study. Clive was carrying a book, looking eagerly through its pages.
“Arthur,” Clive greeted warmly.
“Father, I’m going to head out for a bit.”
“I thought you and Morgan were helping Izzy entertain her visitor,” Clive said.
Arthur couldn‘t contain himself. “Father, he’s a bore.”
“I beg your pardon?”
“A bore. A stiff.”
“Yes, yes. I know what a bore is, young man.”
“He’s not good for Izzy.”
“And what gives you the authority to determine that?” Clive asked, folding his arms across his chest and approaching his son menacingly.
“You don’t mean to tell me that you’re actually encouraging the match?”
“And why not? And I’ll thank you not to take that tone with me. He’s a fine young man; a soldier. He’s from a good family. He’d take good care of your sister.”
“I should very much prefer for her to marry for love.”
Clive walked closer to his son. “Well, I, for one, am pleased that she has taken care to fall in love with a respectable young man. Don’t you want her to be happy?”
Arthur looked his father straight in the face. “Yes, Father. I do.”
* * *
The ferry finally arrived in Halifax. Alec and a porter helped an ill and weakened Hetty off the boat, and placed her firmly in the carriage. For once, Hetty was too ill to protest about how she didn’t need help, thank you.
The Kings had reserved a suite for their stay in Halifax: Hetty in the largest bedroom, Alec in the second largest. Sara and Cecily would share, and Felicity and Gus had their own room on the same floor.
Cecily, in the exact opposite mood of her aunt, burst into the room she would share with Sara until she began her stay at the Pettibones, threw her satchel on the bed closest to the window, and, much to Sara’s shock, began jumping on the bed.
“Cecily King!” Sara exclaimed. “What in heck are you doing?”
“Trying out the springiness, Sara. Oh, Sara. You can’t imagine how happy I am!” Cecily jumped down from the bed and hugged her cousin. “Imagine, I get to explore Dalhousie University and all of Halifax with no one breathing down my neck!” Sara laughed. “I’ll be completely free.”
“You are forgetting Mr. Pettibone--”
“Oh, Mr. Pettibone lets Izzy do whatever she likes,” Cecily said flippantly, going to the window and opening it. Sara raised an eyebrow in disbelief. “I suppose I shall be allowed to as well. Oh, smell that air, Sara. It’s the city. Look! Look how many motor cars there are. Why, I’ve never seen so many.” The Prince George Royal Hotel looked down on a particularly busy main street of Halifax. The girls crowded together at the window, looking out. “Look, at all those people,” Cecily continued. “Oh, look at that lady talking to those men down there. That’s the most garish shade of purple I’ve ever seen. Felicity tells me I don’t know how to dress, but look at…Oh, Sara, is that lady what I think she is?”
Sara didn’t answer because, aside from trying not to laugh, Alec had entered the room, clearing his throat to get their attention.
“If I’m not disturbing you ladies,” he said.
“Oh, Father!“ Cecily said, slamming the shades shut and flying over to her father. “I’ve never been in a big city like Halifax before, Father. I suppose I’m losing my head.” Cecily threw her arms around his middle. “Thank you so much for bringing us.”
A barely able-to-walk Hetty King entered the room, clutching a cane. “Hetty!” Alec exclaimed. “Why aren’t you in bed? I told you to rest.”
“As if anyone could rest with all the commotion in this room. Cecily, I could hear ya right down the hall child. Oh,” Hetty said, seeming woozy. She put a handkerchief over her throat.
“Never mind that, Hetty,” Alec said. “You shouldn’t have stirred from your bed. Here, Cecily, why don’t you help your aunt back to bed?”
“Yes, Father,“ Cecily said, taking her aunt’s hand. “Oh, I must call over to Izzy’s and tell her we’ve arrived. And then Father, may I go over to see her?”
“Cecily, calm yourself, child,” Hetty said, clutching her stomach. “You’re practically jumping out of your skin. Alec, you’re honestly going to allow that girl to traipse around a strange city?”
“I’ll have a cab take you over to call on the Pettibones, Cecily,” Alec said. Cecily beamed. “I’d better stay with your aunt. Oh, Sara: Felicity was asking if you were ready to accompany her to the orphanage.”
“Wouldn’t Felicity rather rest?” Sara asked.
“Well, that’s what Gus told her to do, but she’s awfully determined to see this through.”
“All right then. Cecily, you can come in a cab with Felicity and I if you like.” Sara said, grabbing her bonnet and duster. “I’ll take good care of them,” she said to Alec, taking Hetty’s other side in order to help her cousin escort their aunt back to her room.
Sara and Cecily went down the stairs together, Cecily lightly bouncing ahead of her. Sara paused on their way out to use the telephone at the desk in order to call Anna Faulkner and ask her how Estelle was getting along. Anna replied that she was sitting on her lap and purring like mad.
Sara and Cecily met up with Felicity and hailed a cab to take them to their respective destinations.
* * *
Arthur, anxious to be as far away from Izzy and Dermot as possible, was jogging down the steps of his family’s house on Willowmere Avenue, when he saw Sara Stanley and Cecily King emerging from a cab. He broke out into a smile upon seeing them.
“Hallooo!” he said, raising his hand. “Hallooo, Sara!”
“Arthur!” Sara yelled, waving frantically.
“Sara,” Felicity hissed from her seat in the cab. “Not to sound like Aunt Hetty, but really. One does not shout at young men in the middle of a public street.”
“It’s just Arthur,” Sara said dismissively. “I’ve brought a playmate for Izzy!” she yelled. Arthur ran toward them.
“Sara Stanley, we meet again,” he said, shaking her hand. “Hello, Felicity,“ he said, bending over to speak to Felicity, who was still ensconced in the cab. Felicity said hello. “And you‘ve brought us little Cecily.” Cecily glowered. Sara poked her in the ribs. “How is your aunt?”
“Very disagreeable,” Sara answered.
“Then she must be in excellent health. I am glad to hear it.”
“Izzy is still here?” Cecily asked anxiously.
“Izzy’s inside. She’s entertaining--er--a friend of hers. How thoughtless of me. Won’t you all come in and have some tea?”
“Oh, please don’t think that all of we Kings have come to descend upon you,” Sara said.
“Oh, not at all. Morgan’s here as well, and Father and Muriel. Won’t you come in? I know Izzy’s very keen upon seeing you, Sara. She’s been wanting to hear about Paris.”
Sara averted his gaze. “I’m sorry, Arthur, but Felicity and I have an appointment at the orphanage.”
Arthur looked disappointed. “Quite all right, I was just heading out myself. Cecily, may I escort you in?”
Cecily sighed and assented, taking Arthur’s outstretched arm. “Your parasol,” Felicity reminded her. Begrudgingly, Cecily opened it. “I’ll see you later, Sara,” Arthur said. “Good bye, Felicity.” Felicity smiled and waved.
Arthur walked Cecily across the lawn, and the two politely engaged in conversation.
“How is your family, Cecily?”
“Oh, we’re all fine, as you can see. And…yours…is…as well?”
Arthur anticipated her question. “Morgan is at home, as I said. He’s actually looking into giving up his Italian tour to start teaching in the fall.”
“Yes,” Cecily said quietly. “I know.”
An awkward paused followed. Arthur knew he might be treading on dangerous waters, but he felt compelled, after seeing Izzy’s recent behavior, to inquire after Cecily’s brother. Sara had, of course, asked him to give his professional opinion on Felix, and he had to admit that he was interested in the case.
“And…is all your family well?” Arthur asked.
“Ye-es,” Cecily said. “Well, Aunt Eliza said she was feeling like she was coming down with a cold, and my little cousin Lucky has had to have a tooth pulled. But other than that, we’re…” Cecily trailed off. She seemed to know what Arthur wanted to ask about. She looked up at him, met his eyes, and looked away.
“Did Felix accompany you?” he asked as they approached the steps.
Cecily looked down. “No. No, Felix isn’t…Felix isn’t well.”
“Yes, Sara spoke to me about him.”
“She did?” Cecily asked. “I’m surprised. Mother and Aunt Hetty, I think, want it kept quiet. One of the few things they agree upon, I imagine. They’re ashamed, I think.”
“Ashamed?” Arthur asked, wrinkling his brow. “What on earth for?”
“Oh, Arthur, don’t tell anyone I said anything to you. I believe Felix has gone mad.” Cecily turned away from him and looked as though she was attempting to suppress a sob.
“I’m sorry, Cecily. I shouldn’t have brought it up. It’s none of my…Well, Sara asked me…Has Felix had any contact with Izzy lately? Has he written to her…?”
“No, nothing,” Cecily said, shaking her head. “As far as I know.” She paused. “Izzy told me…she had a…that she had made a new acquaintance.”
Arthur bit his lip. “Yes, they’re inside. I must apologize for keeping you out here like this when you want to see your friend. Please, won’t you come in?” Arthur ushered Cecily inside the home.
Most of the furnishings were the same ones the Pettibones had had in Avonlea, but there was more space in this home and the Pettibones had filled it. Many things she identified as souvenirs from Miss Stacey’s travels abroad: statues of Buddhas, ornate carpets, carvings of elephants, pictures of fox hunts. The air smelled faintly of patchouli and sage.
“Oh, Arthur, do you mind very much if I freshen up before I go in to meet Izzy? I’m afraid I rather rushed over here after we got to the hotel.” Arthur assented, and pointed Cecily up the stairs toward Izzy’s bath. “Izzy and Morgan are outside.”
Arthur let out a sigh. He noticed that his stomach was feeling rather queasy for some reason, and thought perhaps he should have something to eat, after all.
After Cecily had run up the stairs, Arthur headed toward the kitchen, but was stopped. Izzy startled him by coming into the entryway by way of the parlor doors opening. She looked around at first.
“Were those the Kings I saw you talking to?” she asked.
“Yes,” Arthur replied. “Sara was here, but she had to run. Cecily has come. I’ve just sent her to--”
“How is everyone?” she asked nervously. Izzy had not been able to see who was in the cab. She had excused herself from Dermot and gone into the parlour when she heard people shouting. From looking out the parlour windows, she only knew that Sara and Cecily had emerged from the cab, but she had also seen that there was someone in the cab who did not get out. Then she had seen Arthur and Cecily engaged in conversation on the front steps. Cecily had looked upset.
Arthur sensed what she could be thinking and figured that he might as well say his piece. “‘Everyone’ being Felix?”
Izzy screwed up her face her face and flew at him “And what did I do to deserve such a slam as that? I only saw that someone didn’t…Well, I thought it was rude of them not to all come in and say hello. ”
“That was Felicity in the cab, Iz, if that’s what you’re worried about. Felix didn’t come.”
“I don’t give two hoots about Felix King,” Izzy said. “We were friends and now we’re not. Apparently, he has found more important things to do. Considering that he is a soldier, discharged after a brave service, one would think that his mind would be put to better use than childish flirtation.”
“Izzy, you know that his friend Elbert--”
“He what? He died, Arthur. You can say it. Cecily told me. Really, your ridiculous insistence on protecting me is wearing a little thin.”
“Iz, I’m not trying to protect you. I’m just saying. Perhaps Felix is…perhaps he’s upset by his friend’s death. You know, a lot of soldiers are--”
“There’s absolutely nothing wrong with those soldiers they couldn’t get over if they had a mind to.”
“Izzy,” said Arthur, angry and shocked.
“It’s what Father says. And I think Father ought to know. I’m sure you have your own opinions--”
“You want my opinion?” Arthur asked, furious. “What—what on earth was all that back there?
“All of what?”
“ ‘You know I don’t play contact sports. I have no desire to be involved in a contest between you rowdy boys.’ Didn’t it go something like that?”
“Arthur, really. You’re being very childish. I’m really beginning to think Aunt Lillian was right about men not being worth much until they’re thirty.”
“Izzy, if you can’t be yourself around Dermot for one afternoon, then you’ll be miserable married to him.”
“He hasn’t proposed.”
“But you mean to accept him.”
“That’s none of your business. Besides, you could certainly afford to be a little nicer to him,” she said reproachfully.
“I am nice,” he replied. “It’s not my fault that he’s insufferably dull and we have nothing to talk about.”
“That’s your problem, Arthur. I know it may be hard to believe, but maybe Dermot thinks you’re dull. And I imagine all of this ridiculous talk about Cecily’s brother would be quite upsetting to her. Please do not mention him in her presence.”
“I’ve only brought it up because--because this is how you act, Izzy.”
“How I act what?”
“When something is bothering you. You’re upset about something. I know you are. And I think that something is Felix King.”
“Why would I be upset about Felix? We’re barely friends any longer. I speak with Cecily far more often than I do Felix.”
“You’re in love with him,” Arthur said, suddenly realizing.
“That’s ridiculous.”
“You are. I’m not Father, Iz. You can be honest with me. I know how you feel--”
“No, you don’t. You don’t know how I feel. You know nothing of the sort. Arthur, can’t you stop pestering me? Can’t you see that I’m busy? I have guests to attend to, so for heaven’s sake, please leave me alone.”
“Look, Izzy, you can lie to me all you want. It’s not hurting me any. But don’t lie to yourself.” Izzy didn’t respond. She turned away from Arthur and marched out of the room, leaving him alone.
* * *
Sara and Felicity paid the cab driver who let them off in front of the Hopetown Asylum. Taking Felicity’s arm, Sara approached the front door.
“What a miserable-looking place,” Felicity said. “I suppose they do what they can.”
“Shall we go in?” Sara asked.
“Yes,” Felicity said, squaring her shoulders. “Yes, I’m ready.”
Sara pressed the buzzer. The door opened to reveal a frazzled-looking maid. Behind her, in the darkened hallway, Felicity and Sara could see the faces of children peering out at them.
“Yes?” the maid asked.
“I’m Felicity Pike and this is Sara Stanley,” Felicity said. “We have an appointment with Mrs. Cadbury.”
“Please wait here,” said the maid, ushering them into a very clean, but shabby, parlour.
A few moments later, Mrs. Cadbury was ushered in. She was a thin woman, with thin lips in an even thinner face. Felicity approached her.
“I’m Felicity Pike,” she said, holding out her hand to Mrs. Cadbury. “And this is my cousin, Miss Sara Stanley.”
“How do you do,” Mrs. Cadbury responded. “I was so pleased that you replied to my letter, Mrs. Pike,” she said. “I’ve been attempting to find a place for those children for the past four months. I only heard of your school by word of mouth.”
“Certainly--” Felicity began to protest.
“You have no idea how glad I was to learn that the children would be receiving a proper education,” Mrs. Cadbury continued.
“I think there’s been a mistake,” Felicity began.
“A mistake?” Mrs. Cadbury inquired, raising her eyebrows and peering at her from behind her wire-trimmed spectacles.
“You see, my school isn’t quite open yet.”
“Oh?”
“But it will be functioning within the next month or so,” Sara put in. Felicity looked at her in amazement.
“Sara,” Felicity began in a warning tone. “What my cousin means is-”
“What I mean is,” Sara said, interrupting. “What I mean is, the Pikes’s school for the deaf and blind will be up and running within the next month.” Sara ignored Felicity’s next look. “Or so.”
“Well, then,” replied Mrs. Cadbury, looking relieved. “I had hoped to place them in a school with an established reputation, but I have confidence this will work out. You both seem young and energetic. Your school is the first of it’s kind on the Island, is it?”
“Yes,” Sara responded, although the question was directed at Felicity. “And being new, it’s to have all of the most modern and up-to-date facilities.”
“I see. Won’t that be rather expensive? I had hoped to place the children in a school where their financial situation would not make them burden.”
“No need to worry,” replied the indomitable Sara. “Our uncle, Jasper Dale, is an ingenious inventor, isn’t he Felicity? He is a member of the Royal Society in London and is currently a professor of science at Cambridge University, in addition to being of indispensable importance to the British military forces.”
Mrs. Cadbury looked sufficiently impressed. “Perhaps you both would like to meet the children,” she said.
“Yes,” Felicity responded before Sara could open her mouth again. “I would love to meet them.”
Mrs. Cadbury smiled. “Follow me, if you would.”
“We’re starting to be a bit overrun,” Mrs. Cadbury confessed as she led Felicity and Sara up down a hallway. “The war is leaving so many women unable to care for their young ones after their husbands are killed or wounded. Fortunately, we’ve received donations from some of Halifax’s finer families to build an addition, but that will not be completed for several months. It’s only been in late years that we’ve been able to educate some of the younger children here at the orphanage, a process that has been facilitated by Kingsport Ladies’ College. Their principal, Mrs. Muriel Pettibone, is a particular friend of our young Miss Shirley, who was placed in Avonlea, Prince Edward Island, I believe.” Felicity, not looking at Sara, nodded in assent. “As I said in my letter, we no longer have any facilities to teach deaf or blind students at our disposal.”
“They don’t receive any kind of instruction anymore, then?” asked Felicity, concerned.
“Very little,” Mrs. Cadbury replied. “We try to teach them as best as we can. The younger ones are easier to communicate with. We can keep them a bit longer, but we have three older children who are in need of proper education and instruction. The oldest is a boy of fifteen, blind since age three. Scarlet fever. The other two are girls, one twelve, the other nine, both deaf since birth.”
“And their parents?” asked Sara.
“Cressida Percy’s mother and father are dead. Cressida is the girl of twelve,” she explained. “The other children’s parents are living but had to give them up. They had no way of caring for them. Here we are,” she said, approaching a closed door. “The children are in here,” she said, taking a large key ring from around her waist and unlocking the door.
Felicity and Sara entered a brightly coloured room that was set up to be a children’s playroom. “This is quite nice,” Felicity observed.
“Yes,” Mrs. Cadbury replied. “Mrs. Pettibone’s stepson was kind enough to lend his artistic talents toward brightening up the playroom, with the help of our KLC girls.”
One such KLC girl was seated at, or rather squeezed into, a child-sized table, sharing tea with a little blonde-haired girl. Another was attempting to speak to a boy of about fifteen who had chestnut-coloured curls and a pale face. He was slowly feeling his way around the room. Mrs. Cadbury called his name, “Andrew,” and made a motion with her hands to gain the attention of the blonde girl and a thin, black-haired girl who sat on the carpeted floor, playing with a cloth doll.
Sara’s mind began working rapidly, as Felicity was engrossed in the children. She remembered in her long-ago ramblings with Felix in their Uncle Jasper’s workshop, of seeing a device that worked very much like an electric bell, but used electric lights. She whipped out her notebook and jotted herself a note to write to her uncle as soon as possible. Felicity and Gus would need such a system in their school to go along with the electric bell. Sara wandered around the room and began making lists. Desks must be ordered. They would need Braille school books.
“If we could, Mrs. Pike,” Mrs. Cadbury began as Felicity began signing to the little black-haired girl. They were both smiling. “I would like to make arrangements for the children to be sent to Prince Edward Island as soon as possible.”
Felicity blanched and faltered. “I would like to have them placed by the end of June,” Mrs. Cadbury continued. “That way, they can have time to get accustomed to the school. I’ve heard such wonderful things about Avonlea from Miss Shirley. Adopted by a wonderful elderly brother and sister, if memory serves. They’re both gone now, of course, but if this town can do wonders for such a harem-scarem like Anne Shirley, I am anxious to see how well Cressida, Andrew, and Julie will fare. I can’t tell you how pleased I am. I really feel very fortunate.”
Sara spoke up. “The end of June it is.”
“I will accompany the children to Avonlea,” Mrs. Cadbury said, shaking the hand Sara offered. “There will just be some papers for Mrs. Pike to sign, but those can wait, of course. Well, Providence has heard my prayers.”
* * *
“Sara Stanley!” Felicity hissed at her cousin as they left the asylum and walked out into the courtyard. “How could you tell such out-and-out lies?”
“They weren’t lies,” Sara said, opening her parasol. “Just exaggerations of the imagination.”
“Well, then, Sara Stanley, I suggest you imagine how I am going to educate three students with no school and no place to put them.”
“You’ll have a school. Cab!”
“Sara, I do not want to get caught up in one of your--your crazy schemes.”
“This is not a scheme,” she insisted. “I take this very seriously. Cab!”
“Sara!” Felicity exclaimed, rather angered. “I’ve told you--”
“We couldn’t have told her no, now could we? She was so set on sending those children to Avonlea. If there was no way you could have possibly taken them, then you shouldn’t have come, Felicity. Why get her hopes up and then dash them? Besides, it’s not impossible. I’m not backing down. You and Gus don’t need to worry,” she insisted.
“You’re forgetting that I don’t have eight thousand dollars.”
“Felicity, don’t you understand? I can buy the Lloyd mansion for you, no matter how much Clara Potts wants to overcharge for it. And as for all of your supplies, well I can-”
“Sara,” Felicity began, holding back, obviously having something on her mind.
“What?” she asked impatiently as the yellow cab pulled up.
“Sara....I’m grateful for you wanting to assist me, but-”
“But what?”
“I don’t want you coming in, interfering and...and throwing your money around.”
Sara couldn’t believe her ears. She gazed open-mouthed at her cousin. “Felicity--Pike.”
“Sara, I didn’t mean-”
Sara backed away from her. “You’d better go home,” she replied, holding the door of the cab open. “Gus will be expecting you.”
“Sara!” she called. Sara had turned away from her and was walking down the street. Her small, slender figure was soon lost in the Halifax crowd. “Sara, come back!”
“You want in, lady?” the cab driver asked. “I’ve got plenty of others waiting for a lift.”
Felicity sighed regretfully and lowered herself into the cab.
* * *
A party had gone out looking for Sara when she didn’t return for lunch or tea. Cecily, giggling non-stop with Izzy over tea, had been summoned home by an emergency phone call over to the Pettibones. She had been driven back to the hotel by Clive, who had asked to be included in the search. Hetty, who was still not feeling entirely right from her ferry ride, and now exhausted with worry over Sara, was seated in a large, overstuffed chair in the parlour that ajoined her room with Felicity and Gus’s, with a cup of tea.
“She’s still not back?” Felicity asked Gus, who stood at the window in their hotel room.
“No,” was all Gus said.
“I suppose you’re angry with me, too.”
“I didn’t say that, Mrs. Pike.”
“Hadn’t I a right to be upset?”
“Ya should’ve accepted her help, Failicity. Sara’s family. She was just doin’ what she thought was right.”
“But the lies she told, Gus! She’s just like she was when...when we were children.”
“Don’t ya think she wants to help those kids as much as we do? And Sara doesn’t lie to cause mischief.” Felicity raised her eyebrows. “At least not anymore,” he added.
“I suppose I was a bit harsh with her. I’ve just been so upset lately. Alice and the Halloways...losing the Lloyd place....I suppose I took it out on Sara. Maybe I should take a rest until the baby’s born. Maybe I’m just wearing myself all out worrying.”
“Ah, now, Failicity,” Gus said, putting his arms around her. “Don’t ya go worryin’, now. I do have a bit a’ good news for ya. Mrs. Gus Pike is the wife of a certified teacher of the blind.”
“Oh--Gus! You mean you took it? And you passed?”
“With flyin’ colours. Now, now. Don’t get yourself all worked up into a tizzy. What was that you were just sayin’ ‘bout givin’ yourself a rest? Ya just set down on the sofa there and I’ll get ya some tea.” Gus started toward the door to ring for tea, but the door opened then. Felicity arose and the two of them walked into the large parlour.
“Sara--” she began, but stopped herself when she realized that the party that had entered contained Captain Ames, Alec, Cecily and Clive Pettibone, but no Sara.
“You couldn’t find her?” Felicity asked, her face contorted with worry.
“We’ve looked everywhere,” said an exasperated Cecily.
“The child’s just disappeared!” Hetty exclaimed.
“Now, she can’t have disappeared,” Captain Ames said comfortingly. “The lass’ll turn up.”
“After wandering the streets of a strange city until goodness knows when…with goodness knows whom,” Hetty fretted, clasping her hands together. “I can’t sit and wait. I’m going out to look.”
“Now, Miss Kang,” Gus began. “If I may. If there’s one thing we don’t need, it’s two of ya out wanderin’ alone, specially when ya ain’t a hundred percent yourself. My guess is Sara’s pretty teffed and she wouldn’t come even if ya did find her.”
“Gus is right,” Clive said. “In a big city like this, she could be somewhere we looked half a minute after we were there.”
“I think Sara can look after herself,” Cecily said rather timidly.
“Cecily King, there are hooligans and…and … all sorts of ruffians and pickpockets in Halifax,” Hetty said. “And don’t tell me there aren’t. Imagine my poor Sara falling into the hands of that sort.”
“Oh, Hetty, it’s not as bad as all of that,” Clive said. “But this isn’t Avonlea. I would have thought that Sara knew better.”
“Captain Ames, Mr. Pettibone, isn’t there anywhere we could look or anything we could do?” Felicity asked. “I’m with Aunt Hetty. I’m not about to sit around and wait for her to come.”
“Now, Felicity, you’re not well. None of us want you wandering around out there.” Alec said.
“I can’t just stay here,” she insisted. “I have to find Sara.”
“As much as ya feel ya need to apologize to her, Failicity, wearin’ yourself out lookin’ for her ain’t gonna do anybody any good. Sara knows where to find us. She’ll turn up when she’s good and ready.”
“In the mean time,” Captain Ames said, “Mr. King, I see you are needed here. Mr. Pettibone and I will go out again and have a good look around. Is there any sort of particular place the lass might go to?”
“A park,” said Felicity before anyone else could speak. “Somewhere with trees and water and quiet.”
“I see,” he said. “That’s certainly to be had in Halifax.”
“I just hope she’s all right,” Felicity said. “I’d feel horrible if…”
“Failicity, I told you: she’ll be fine.”
“If only I were as certain as you, Gus.”
* * *
Sara was seated on a stone bench in a park far from the hotel, refusing to go back. In any case, the night was warm and there was a soft breeze. It was the first opportunity Sara had had to really be alone in--in she didn’t know how long.
She suddenly became conscious of someone whistling. She was angry at the person’s intrusion on her solitude, unconscious as they were to it. As she was standing up, she saw the outline of a young man, throwing stones into the fountain. Someone was whistling. It was Henri, she thought. It had to be. He was tall and slender and wore a long coat and cap. Who else whistled that song? Mozart’s Voi che sapete. “Tell me what love is,” Sara whispered the title’s English translation. It was his favourite song. She got up and headed toward him at a half-run. Her heart raced. How had he found her there? Likely someone at King Farm….It didn’t matter. Even in the dark, she saw the brown tweed cap he always wore. Tears of joy were in her eyes. He stood on the stone walk in the garden, his back to her, his hands thrust in his pockets in the way that was so like him.
She gently laid her hand on his arm. He turned.
“Bon soir.”
Sara came back to reality. It wasn’t Henri at all but a surprised-looking Arthur Pettibone.
“Sara!” he exclaimed. She turned away from him toward the stone bench, tear-blind, not wanting him to hear her sobs, but he did. She started to feel a choking sensation. “Sara!” he exclaimed again, this time with concern rather than surprise.
She felt him sit down next to her. He reached into his pocket and pulled out a handkerchief. It suddenly occurred to Sara that she didn’t mind Arthur being there. She’d wanted to be alone, but his presence was a comfort to her instead of a nuisance. She sat with her face turned away from him. “Sara, what is it?”
“Oh, Arthur, I can--I just c-can’t! I can’t go--I can’t do this!” She got up and walked a few paces away, her chest heaving with sobs.
Although utterly confused, Arthur was much faster. “Do what? Sara--what--” He gently placed his hands on her shoulders and guided her back to the bench.
“P--please let me go,” she sobbed weakly. “I need to go home. It’s late. Likely everyone is worried. Please, I’ll be all right. Let me go home.”
“Sara Stanley, I am not about to let you mosey along by yourself in such a state. What would your aunt say if I left you like this?” He handed her another handkerchief, sitting down next to her again. “At least let me walk you home.” Sara shook her head. “Whatever is the matter?”
“Please, just let me have a cry out.”
They sat on the stone bench for a very long time, the silence only broken by the sound of Sara’s occasional sniffles and sobs. Arthur was silent. He sat facing forward, his arms crossed over his chest, letting Sara have her cry. He turned to her occasionally, when she let out a particularly loud sob. “Sara, I can’t stand this. Is there anything I can do to help?”
“It’s nothing, really,” she said, dabbing her eyes.
“That’s a whole lot of crying for nothing.”
Sara told him the whole story about Felicity’s school and what had happened at the orphanage.
“Well, if she’s that determined not to accept your help, why do you keep offering it?”
“Because she’s family.”
“But if she’s refused, Sara, there’s not much you can do. You can’t force people to do what you want. My father has this saying, ‘What part of “no” don’t you understand?’” Sara smiled. “Sometimes you have to let people chart their own course.”
Sara managed a weak smile. “I guess you know all about that.”
“Well, my family life has never been easy, but it has taught me to be tolerant of others’ feelings. Force doesn’t get you anywhere in the long run. You might win a temporary victory, but…Why is this so important to you, Sara? I know Felicity’s your cousin and friend, but if she’s repeatedly told you no, why do you keep insisting?”
“I just feel like…I have an obligation to do some good in the world.”
“Because of your inheritance?”
“Yes, and because…” She paused. “You might as well hear the worst of it. Do you remember that day I came to the hospital with Aunt Hetty?” Arthur nodded. “Well, I was there with her because I had gone to a meeting with my trustees, and…I haven’t told anyone this, but, they made it pretty clear to me that Stanley Shipping has been profiting significantly off the war.”
“And this troubles you?”
“War profiteering?! Of course! How would you feel if you found out the hospital was making money off the war?”
“Well, the Charlottetown Hospital isn’t a charity, Sara.” Arthur paused before speaking again. “Sara, what Felicity wants to do is very noble, and your willingness to help is admirable, but are you certain that it is Felicity you want to help or is this guilt? You disagree with the war, I can tell that, and your company profiting off it troubles you, but forcing something on someone you love isn’t the solution you’re looking for, Sara.”
“But, you agree that if one wants to take a stand, one should do so?”
“Yes, absolutely.”
“And you agree that I should use my money to make a difference?”
“Well, you can’t let this fester. If it really bothers you that much, you’ll have to take some action. And it doesn’t necessarily need to be monetary.”
Sara smiled weakly, but looked away from him. Arthur handed her another handkerchief and waited quietly until she had composed herself.
“What brings you to Halifax, Arthur?” she asked as she wiped her eyes. “Aren’t you needed at the hospital?”
“Oh. I’m not going back to the hospital,” he replied casually.
“Arthur!” Sara gasped. “Of all the people to give up, Arthur Pettibone, you are the absolute last person I expected--”
“Now, Sara, don’t start. I’m only taking a kind of sabbatical from the hospital--with their blessing, or relief, however you want to look at it. The Army hospital in Carmody is desperately in need of doctors--more so than Charlottetown--and the Charlottetown Hospital is desperately in need of getting rid of me. I’m going to Carmody to see what I can do.”
“What about those soldiers you were helping?”
“I wasn’t helping anyone.”
“You were trying to. That’s something.”
“Well, in any case, they’ve all been sent home to their respective families, or will be once their injuries heal. I have to do something, Sara. I can’t sit idly by. Perhaps my crazy ideas would be a little less unwelcome in a smaller hospital.”
Sara looked up at him with admiration. She recalled how she had steadily found him more and more pleasant since their early meetings. He had changed from the dreamy, moody, love-struck boy of long ago. She wished she’d become chums with him then--but he was so sullen, so reserved, and he paid little attention to anyone who wasn’t Felicity and the rival for her affections. “You really want to help those soldiers, don’t you?”
“Yes,” he replied firmly. He was still idealistic, still intense. She wondered if the passing years had left anything of his reportedly overactive imagination while they improved him.
“You know, Sara, Dr. Snow at the Carmody Hospital says they need nurses. If you like…”
“I can’t, Arthur.”
“Why?”
“I can’t be around those soldiers.”
“You said you wanted to do something.”
“But I…it’s too soon.”
They sat together in silence for a very long time. Finally, the wind blew up and Arthur turned to her. “I’ll walk you home,” he said. He offered his arm to Sara and she took it.
“I’ll direct you. We’re staying at the Prince George Royal.”
* * *
It was a very warm night with a slow, soothing breeze. As if part of it, Sara and Arthur walked languidly along the streets of Halifax toward the Kings’ hotel. Sara related to him all that had transpired between leaving France and coming home to Avonlea…Of her not hearing from Henri. They began to meander a bit, first while Sara was blowing off steam as Arthur listened serenely, then as they spoke of nearly everything they could think of to catch up.
“You’re quite a bit out of your way,” Sara said as they walked together, noticing for the first time that they weren’t taking a direct path from the park to the hotel. “I thought the Pettibones lived on fashionable Willowmere Avenue. If not, Aunt Hetty will be bitterly disappointed that all of her rants about your family thinking itself too high-and-mighty for Avonlea will be considerably robbed of their sting.”
Arthur laughed softly. “I like this old park. Morgan and Izzy and I came here on our first day in Halifax. We decided to go exploring. There isn’t a park like this anywhere near fashionable Willowmere Avenue.” He offered his arm to Sara and she took it. “Things were different then, back in ‘12, ” Arthur said, remembering. “I imagine your family is anxious about you,” he said after a pause.
“I imagine so,” Sara replied, feeling a little guilty. “I suppose I shouldn’t have run off like that. You probably think I’m horrid.”
“Not at all. I’ve run off myself,” Arthur replied, laughing softly again.
“Come again? The fearless Arthur Pettibone running off?”
“All right. Let me rephrase that: I left my father’s house for a while to let off some steam. Does that sound better?”
“Infinitely.” Sara laughed. Then Sara’s face became serious. “And what is the matter this time? Don’t tell me your father--”
“Oh, Father is Father. I try not to let him get my goat up. I really, do, Sara. But it’s…Truth be told, Sara, it’s Izzy.”
“Izzy?”
Arthur described to Sara the situation with Dermot -- and portrayed Dermot’s rather dry personality with great aplomb. “Can she be happy with him?” he asked after he’d finished.
“So you know how I feel, then,” Sara said.
“I don’t follow.”
“Really, Arthur, for an intelligent young man, you really are incredibly dense. You love Izzy, you want her to be happy, but she’s blindly plowing along on this ridiculous track and she won’t let anyone help her or point out to her how silly she’s being.”
“Well, to be perfectly honest, Sara, I think what the matter is involves more than just Izzy.” Sara looked at him quizzically. “If she--I mean, I know that there was some attachment to Felix when we left Avonlea. I was wondering if--if perhaps…”
“If she still loves him?”
“Did she love him?”
“It certainly looked that way,” Sara said.
“And with Felix being…well, from what you described, Felix doesn’t seem to be in any state to have a romantic attachment with anyone. I know that Izzy and Felix corresponded while he was on the front, but Izzy never mentioned anything about…I don’t want Izzy to get hurt. But I certainly don’t want her throwing herself away on someone she doesn’t love.”
“Then it is probably best to keep them apart,” Sara said. “Izzy and Felix, I mean. Arthur, will you not say anything to her about how Felix is?”
“Of course. I’ll do anything you like.”
“But you will have a look at him? You’ll forget all this Izzy business?”
“Yes, of course I will. I do feel for these soldiers and I want them to get well. There’s no better place for me to start than with a neighbor and a friend.”
“Thank you.” Sara paused. “Why aren’t you in the Army, Arthur?”
“Oh. That.” Arthur turned his face away from her.
“I didn’t mean to offend.”
“You didn’t offend me, Sara. This war offends me.”
“I see,” Sara replied in a small voice. “I was just curious. I wondered if…if it was…something like that. So, you wouldn’t be enlisting?”
“Sometimes I feel…well, not to sound like my father, but sometimes I do feel a sense of duty to go over there as a medic. They need doctors. And I’m fully qualified now as a surgeon. But I…I promised someone I wouldn’t go, and I don’t want to break my word.”
“I see,” Sara said. “And who is she?”
“Well, her name’s Izzy and she’s the most beautiful--”
“Oh, stop! I thought--” Sara was laughing.
“See, I made you laugh, didn’t I? My one talent.” Arthur let go of her arm and bowed.
“Bravo!” Sara said, clapping her hands.
“Thank you,” he said, giving a mock bow. “You’re too kind.”
Arthur offered his arm to Sara again and they walked on together, slowly.
“So,“ said Sara, after a pause. “You really promised Izzy you wouldn’t go? Is she afraid you’ll beat her to the rank of major general?”
“No, I…I think…” Arthur trailed off and became somber. “I think she’s terribly afraid one of us won’t come home. You know, it’s one thing to play soldier, but if there’s one thing this war has done, it’s brought home the harsh reality of it all. This is a terrible war, Sara. I guess I don’t need to tell you that.” There was silence. “But sometimes, I begin to think…” he trailed off, paused and began again. “Sometimes I begin to think that if I went, someone with a wife and family wouldn’t have to go.” Sara looked up at him in surprise; a feeling of awe swept over her. Sara had never fancied Arthur as being gallant, but the idea that he would go off and volunteer for a war he didn’t agree with was an entirely new phenomenon in her acquaintance with him. She didn’t quite know what to think, or to feel.
Arthur saw the surprised look on Sara’s face and said, lowering his voice, “You mustn’t tell Izzy I’ve said this to you.” Sara mumbled her assent, still surprised at him.
Gradually, almost reluctantly, Arthur pulled his arm from Sara’s. “Excuse me,” he apologized. “There’s a coffee and tea house right here.” He gestured to a line of brick shops, one of which had its lights blazing into the night. “They’ve got a phone. I’ll call the hotel and tell your family you’re all right. I imagine none of them know where you are?”
Sara nodded. She shivered. She hadn’t really realized it at the time, but she felt quite protected with Arthur’s arm holding hers. She hadn’t felt that safe, really, since she’d left Henri in Paris. Looking up, she saw Arthur was holding the door open for her and she entered.
“Want some tea?” he asked her, for he noticed her shivering. She nodded. Her thin, silken shawl had fallen off her shoulders and Arthur gingerly picked up the end of it and wrapped it around her.
“Thank you,” she said.
Arthur ordered tea from the rosy-cheeked, sonsy girl behind the counter. Sara, wrapped in her shawl and seated alone at their table, looked very small. Arthur sat across from her. “You don’t have to go back until you’re ready,” he said. Soon after, the girl brought their tea.
Sara thought Arthur had become very quiet. Was he upset with her? No, he said he wasn’t. Then what?
* * *
There was nothing to be done but wait.
Captain Ames and Clive had gone out again in search of the girl, assuring them that all would be well and Sara would return as soon as she cooled down. The Kings were left, then, to sit and wait in the large, comfortable parlour that adjoined the suite rooms. Nobody talked much and the only sound in the room was that of the occasional pouring of tea into a china cup. Alec sat and twirled his hat. “Maybe I should go help look,” he said, finally breaking the silence.
“Mr. Kang,” Gus began. “Meanin’ no disrespect, but Cap’n Ames knows these streets better’n you do and we don’t need you lost and wandering in the middle of the night. Sara’ll come back when she’s good and ready. Besides, it’s not your fault she ran off.”
Felicity felt her husband’s last remark was aimed at her personally. She was staring into a cup of tea. “I did try to reason with Sara,” Felicity said.
“Failicity, no one’s blamin’ya,” Gus said, stifling a yawn.
“It must be going on eleven,” Felicty said anxiously.
“Cecily, you ought to be in bed,” Alec said.
Cecily did not look up, nor make any indications that she was going to bed. She was curled up in a chair in the corner of the room nearest the fire, reading Howards End.
“Cecily,” Alec said, this time in a warning tone.
“Cecily,” Hetty repeated, catching sight of the title of the book Cecily held. She made a beeline to her niece and snatched the book away from her.
“Bu--” the girl protested.
“Shocking book,” Hetty said.
“But you let Sara read A Room with a--”
“A very respectable book,” Hetty said, straightening her impeccable attire. “I’ll not have ya rotting your brain with such drivel, Cecily King. Very, very shocking indeed,” she continued, flipping through the pages and pausing to read a sentence that caught her eye. She pocketed the book. Cecily smiled wryly, unseen by her aunt. A few moments later, Hetty returned to Cecily and handed her another book. “Virgil’s Aenid. Of much more literary value than Mr. Forster.” Cecily caught the twinkle in her aunt’s eye.
“Thank you, Aunt Hetty,” she gushed.
“If she doesn’t walk through that door in the next minute, I’m going to call the constabulary,” Alec said, rising.
“We should have called them hours ago,” Hetty said. “Oh, why I listened to ya all when you suggested that we sit and wait?” The clock chimed quarter to midnight. “Oh, where is that blasted girl?”
There was a knock at the door and everyone jumped. “Open it, open it!” Hetty urged.
Everyone in the room leaned forward, expecting to see Sara bursting through the door. But, it wasn’t Sara, but Clive Pettibone and Captain Ames.
“Hetty,” Clive said, looking grave. “We’ve scoured the city. It’s going on midnight. The captain and I think the best thing to do would be to contact the authorities and report Sara missing.”
Hetty collapsed into a chair. Cecily went to her, offering her a handkerchief. Felicity became even paler. “This is all my fault,” she was saying to Gus, burying her head on his shoulder.
“Failicity, now, you’re going to bed,” Gus said. “Come on, now. You gettin’ sick ain’t gonna bring Sara back any sooner.”
Gus gently raised his weaked wife to her feet and tenderly ushered her off to their room. Moments later, Gus quietly reappeared. “Fast asleep,” he said. “Anything you’re needin’, Miss Kang?”
“No, no, Gus,” she said. “Thank you.”
Another half an hour passed. Cecily began to drift off to sleep in her chair. Hetty paced. Alec stared out the window. Clive sat bolt upright in a chair next to the door.
Then, suddenly, the phone rang loudly, waking Cecily with a jump. Hetty, being nearest to the telephone, answered it.
“Hello?” she asked anxiously. Hetty, Cecily, Clive and Alec crowded around her.
“There’s someone here wanting to call up to Room 15,” the desk boy downstairs said. “Is there anybody who will take the call ?”
“Yes, yes, do,” Hetty said quickly. “Put them on, for heaven’s sakes! Put them on!”
“Hello, Miss King?”
“This is Miss King. To whom am I speaking?”
“Oh, Miss King. This is Arthur Pettibone.”
“Oh, Arthur, what in blazes do want?” Clive almost leapt over to the phone at the mention of his son’s name.
“I believe I have something you’ve lost,” said the voice on the phone.
* * *
“Arthur Pettibone, where is my niece?” Hetty demanded of Arthur as he stood in the Kings’ room, attempting to diffuse the situation. Sara had asked him to go in first and try to keep everyone calm, but he was not having much luck with Hetty.
“Now, I wouldn’t be too hard on her, Miss King…”
“You mind your own business, Arthur Pettibone! I demand to see Sara this instant.”
Arthur turned to his father, who was looking at him with a gaze so intense, he almost felt panicky.
“Have you been out all night with her, young man?” Clive asked at the same time Hetty spoke.
“No,” he said adamantly.
“What do you mean, ‘no’?” Hetty said, rounding on him.
“I mean, no, I haven’t been out with her all night. I found her in a park, she was upset. That’s all, Miss King. I swear. There was nothing untoward about it at all.”
Gus made a noise that sounded remarkably like a snort.
“Never minding that the proper thing to have done would have been to bring the girl back to her family immediately,” Clive said, advancing on his son.
“She was very upset. She asked me to--”
Arthur, realizing that he wasn’t going to be much help to Sara if he tried to argue her aunt and his father into calming down, sighed in exasperation, and turned his head slowly toward the open door. He peered his head around the corner. Sara was leaning against the hallway, as if trying to melt into the wall. “Sara,” he said, an apologetic look in his eyes. She realized that she was going to have to face them sooner or later.
A moment or two passed and Sara, despondent, walked in, and stood slightly behind Arthur.
“Oh, Sara, Sara. How could ya be so irresponsible to run off like that, child? We were worried sick about ya, did ya ever consider that?”
“I’m sorry, Aunt Hetty.”
“It’s a good thing for you you were found before you were kidnapped or…or…”
“Kidnapped?”
“Halifax is not safe, Sara Stanley. We’re not in Avonlea, ya know.”
“Arthur, I’m sorry to have troubled you,” Alec said, holding out his hand.
“Oh, not at all Mr. King. I’m glad to bring Sara home.” Arthur avoided his father’s gaze. “If you’ll excuse me, I suppose I ought to be getting back myself.”
“Good night, Arthur,” Alec said. “Thank you, Mr. Pettibone.”
“I am sorry to have caused any of you any grief,” Mr. Pettibone said. “Arthur,” he said, ominously. “Let us go home.”
“Sara Stanley,” Hetty began as soon as Arthur and Mr. Pettibone had closed the door. “Is this where you’ve been until all hours of the morning? Is this what you’ve got us all worked up about? Cavorting about with a young man?”
“Aunt Hetty--”
“I don’t know what sorts of manners ya picked up in Paris, but respectable young ladies do not roam about the dark, unchaperoned, with a young man until all hours of the night! Can ya imagine what passersby must have thought? Can ya imagine what will be said once this gets back to Avonlea?”
“I can imagine it would only get back to Avonlea if someone in this room told the story,” Sara said. “And besides, it’s Arthur Pettibone. He’s hardly a rake.” Sara looked around the room, seeing only her aunt, her uncle, Gus and a very sleepy Cecily. “Is Felicity--is Felicity still awake?” she asked.
“No, she’s gone to bed. All this excitement is not good for her. I warned Alec and Janet about her coming along, but they insisted, much to my disapproval, and now look what’s happened. Sara Stanley, I do wish ya’d learn to hold your tongue.”
“What? Hold my tongue? Felicity wouldn’t have been half so upset if she’d just listened to my suggestions. I just wanted to help.”
“There now, don’t go blaming Felicity, Sara,” Hetty said.
“How on earth are you able to blame me? It’s not as though I made Felicity get upset.”
“Well, ya did upset her, child. Ya ought to have been more considerate of her condition, really. And then, to top it all off, ya ran off, helter-skelter, without a word to anyone, and wandered about the streets of a strange city by yourself. If it hadn’t been for Arthur Pettibone, ya might have ended up robbed, did ya ever think of that, Sara Stanley?”
“Oh, now you’re thanking him?”
“Have I any reason not to thank him? At least he had the good sense to bring ya home. If not for him, goodness knows what would have happened to ya.” Hetty paused. As she was speaking, the unthinkable had slowly entered her thoughts. “Unless,” she began delicately, “unless it was your intention to meet up with him--”
“Meet up with him?! Intentionally? Aunt Hetty, are you out of your mind?”
“Don’t speak to me in that tone of voice, Sara Stanley. Out of my mind, indeed,” Hetty sniffed. “I’m not blind, Sara Stanley. Ya are of an age, after all, where being in the company of an eligible young man is apt to raise some suspicions. I do find it a bit odd that in a great city such as this, he should just happen to find you--”
“Hetty--” Alec said, trying to intervene. Hetty held up her hand to silence him.
“But, as I trust him and his appearance was innocent enough, I can’t say outright that you planned to meet him, but if ya did, I would warn ya against such a folly, Sara Stanley, as I’ve warned ya before. He’s a bit too modern for my tastes, as he was for Felicity’s, and ya needn’t take up with her leavings, Sara.”
“Aunt Hetty, Arthur Pettibone and I have never been anything but friends. And he has never been anything but a gentleman to me…”
“I’ve not forgot your mother, Sara. She claimed her friendship, as she called it, with Blair Stanley was innocent enough, and then, what do you know, but she up and left her home and all of her friends and threw herself away.”
“Aunt Hetty, you are speaking about my parents,” Sara said, her tone becoming dangerous.
“And it’s exactly their heedlessness and impulsivity that I’m warning ya against, Sara Stanley. I thought I’d wrestled it out of ya, but what’s bred in the bone is unlikely to change.”
Sara was too angry to argue. “I’m going to bed.” After she was gone, Alec stepped up to Hetty.
“Hetty, I really think that could have waited until morning,” Alec said. “You’re both tired and cross. You should have left it before one of you said something you’d regret.”
“Alec, I believe it was agreed from the first that Sara was my responsibility.”
“She’s a grown woman now, Hetty. The sooner you come to terms with that, the better off the both of you will be.” Alec exited the room, heading to his own, leaving Hetty alone.
* * *
Curled up in bed, alone, her knees clutched to her face, painful burning tears ran down Sara’s face. What had she done to make Hetty say those things to her? And that she could have possibly thought--yet again--that she and Arthur were…Well, the idea was absurd.
If this was going to be Hetty’s reaction--if she was going to blow up over a little thing like what had happened that night, what would her reaction be when she told her…? Well, she hadn’t fully made up her mind, but was leaning, ever closer to what she had decided initially to do. You do, of course, have an option. But could she? That was not even to mention what Nanny Louisa would say. And at the last communication she had received from Stanley House, Nanny Louisa was ill. Sara didn’t want to bother her with such a serious matter.
All Sara wanted to do was sleep and forget. She cursed herself over what a mistake it had been to come back to Avonlea. She realized she had gone weeks with no word from Henri. She hadn’t even--why, she admitted to herself, she had almost forgotten. How could she? Was she really becoming that selfish?
Felicity was angry with her--as was Hetty. Felix wouldn’t speak to her. Everyone was irritable. And every day, every single day now there was news from the front that worried her. If Paris fell…Sara wished things hadn’t changed, that things could go back to the way they were when she was younger. She would give anything, she thought, to go back in time four or five years. To just be there, to feel that peace. “Why do things have to change?” Sara asked herself through her tears.
She looked over at the Cecily, asleep in her bed, and envied her the undisturbed dreams of nineteen.
Slowly, Sara lowered herself onto her bed, silencing her sobs so as not to wake the sleeping girl in the next bed. Her eyes, aching from crying, closed, her breathing slowed, and she was asleep.
* * *
“We must be in the city proper by now,” Louisa said. “I don’t know why your father couldn’t have sent someone for us at the dock.”
It was true. There were more bungalows in this area and a lot of soldiers of the British Empire. Sara also saw some children her age, playing outside under the careful observation of their mamas or nursemaids. She saw that some had native Indian nursemaids. How fascinating! But then, she thought how all of the native Indians she saw were working, except for the young rajahs. She remembered the people she’d seen working in Montreal. Sara knew she was a very lucky little girl. Not everyone had a rich papa who bought her nearly everything she desired. She knew the servants at home didn’t live in large houses on fashionable streets. The Indians she saw must be like them. “Nanny Louisa,” she ventured. “Are all the Indian people quite poor?”
“The British crown is looking after them,” Nanny said with confidence in her voice. “Just as they look after all of us.”
Sara remembered a picture she’d seen of an Indian prince, a rajah, all covered in jewels and silks and gold. “I guess so,” she replied because Nanny was almost always right. She’d ask her papa when she saw him.
As they walked, Sara saw a little boy approaching them, striding along with his hands in the pockets of his black knickerbockers. It was awfully hot for black, Sara thought. Sara hated black. She was glad she’d never have to wear it if she didn’t want to. He was a tall boy and a handsome one. Actually, he looked a tad like the lad she’d seen bowing to her from the temple balcony. Sara knew it was impolite to stare at strangers, especially boy strangers, so she decided to look away and not speak to him. Nanny said she must curb her habit of going right up to strangers and, bold as brass, talking to them as if they’d always been friends. But, before she could turn her head, the little boy was coming closer. And, as he passed, he looked right at her and--and winked!
Sara gasped. “You impertinent boy!” Louisa admonished, for she’d see him do it as well. The boy merely smiled and tipped his cap to her.
“I suppose that’s how children behave in India,” Louisa tut-tutted. “Like common riff-raff.”
Sara paused. Though mostly black, his clothes were very nice. His white linen shirt had been crisp and cool, his stockings without wrinkles or darns, his shoes brightly polished and his tie neatly done up. “I didn’t think he looked like riff-raff.”
* * *
The next morning, Sara woke to an awake and already dressed Cecily, who was lying upon her bed, reading.
“Oh, Sara, did my light wake you?”
“No,” said Sara. She was feeling rather cross, mostly because Cecily was awake, so she couldn’t cry in private unless she went into the bath.
“Don’t you want to go downstairs and eat? I’m famished. I’ve been waiting for hours for you to get up. I’d feel like a goose eating down there all by myself.”
Sara smiled wryly. She supposed she would have to keep her emotions tucked away until she could have a moment alone. The girls went downstairs to eat with the other early risers. Sara ordered, but didn’t touch her food.
“I thought I could get some practice in this morning,” Cecily said, eating while Sara pecked at her plate. “There’s a grand piano in the parlour. Will you play for me?”
“Of course,” Sara said.
“Are you…going to eat anything?”
“No. Cecily, I hate to be a bother. Would you mind terribly if I went upstairs to ask after Felicity?” Cecily shook her head. “I’ll come down afterward to help you with your piece. I promise.”
Eager to be away from the cooking smells that were making her nauseous, Sara quickly climbed the stairs and approached Gus and Felicity’s room. It was still early, and Sara was grateful that she hadn’t run into Hetty on her way. She knocked and waited.
Gus, who looked like he hadn’t slept well, opened the door. “Sara,” he said, sounding somewhat surprised.
“Gus, I know it’s early--”
“Failicity ain’t feelin’ up to snuff this mornin’, Sara,” he told her gently, before she had asked the question.
“You’re not angry with me, too, aren’t you?”
“Angry? Why on earth would I be angry with you, Sara Stanley? You ain’t done nothin’ wrong.” He paused, looking at her intently. “Have ya?” Sara could guess what that question was about.
“Oh, goodness no, Gus. Gus…about Felicity--is she very ill?”
“If you want the truth to be known, she ought to have stayed home. She’s wearin’ herself out and I don’t like it. I’ve a mind to take her on the first boat back to PEI this afternoon. D’ya think yer aunt and Mr. Kang would mind?”
“I don’t know. You’ll have to ask Aunt Hetty yourself. I doubt she’s in any humour to talk to me about it.”
“Really gave ya a dressin’ down last night, didn’t she?”
Before Sara could respond, the door to Hetty’s room opened and she appeared, neatly dressed and showing no signs of the previous evening’s distress.
“Aunt Hetty--” Sara began.
“Good morning, Gus,” Hetty said, approaching them. “How is Felicity?”
“Bein’ real honest, Miss Kang, she’s poorly.”
“I see. Best send for the doctor today instead of traipsing off anywhere. Sara, I am having breakfast with your uncle this morning. Good day.” With that, Hetty had turned her back on them and was marching down the stairs.
“Well,” Sara said to Gus after Hetty had gone. “I can see that I’m to be the family pariah during our stay in Halifax.”
“Sara…” Gus began, consolingly.
“I ought to be going, anyway. Cecily’s got a duet with Izzy and I told her I’d help her practice. Give Felicity my love.”
“Will do.” Gus reached out, took Sara’s hand and squeezed it. Letting go, he gave her an encouraging smile and shut the door.
* * *
Down in the parlour, Cecily already had the sheet music at the piano and was seated at the bench, plunking out notes. Sara assumed Cecily was ready to have a good long, practice, until Cecily, upon seeing her cousin, rounded upon her with a Chessy-cat grin.
“So, tell me,” Cecily said. “I was pulled out of my visit with Izzy yesterday because you were ‘missing’. What in heck happened yesterday?”
Sara pulled the chair that was next to the piano closer to the bench Cecily was sitting on and plopped on it. She told Cecily everything, from what had happened at the orphanage to when she had come back in the company of Arthur. Once finished, Sara sat back in her chair and flopped her hands over the arm rests. “Oh, Cecily. Whatever am I going to do?”
“Sara,” said Cecily, running her hands over the keys. “I am, as you know, ordinarily a great admirer of Aunt Hetty. But, sometimes, she puts her mouth before her mind. You know that.”
“She honestly thought that Arthur Pettibone and I were…well…out…spooning.”
Cecily burst out laughing. “Spooning?”
“Yes, it’s ridiculous, I know. How could she think that?”
“Well, you do flirt with him, Sara,” Cecily said simply, plucking at the piano.
Sara looked at her cousin, stunned. Cecily looked away, laughed to herself, and plunked out more notes. ““I--wha--I flir--I do not flirt with him. I do not flirt with him. Cecily, you have read too many novels and it has addled your brain.”
“Suit yourself,” said Cecily, unable to contain her laughter this time.
Sara looked horrified. “Cecily, you talk to Morgan and Izzy. Does Arth--do other people think so, too?”
“Sara,” said Cecily. “Don’t you realize what people are naturally going to assume?”
“Why does it matter what people assume?”
“Because you have an Aunt Hetty, that is why.”
“All right, look,” said Sara, sounding cranky. “Do you want to practice or not?”
“Now that I’m updated on the family gossip, yes.”
Sara, although irritated by Cecily’s comments about Arthur, couldn’t resist laughing at her cousin. “Cecily, you are terrible.”
Cecily got up from the bench and Sara seated herself upon it. “I’m a little rusty, so let’s go slowly.”
Are you going to Scarborough Faire?
Parsley, sage, rosemary and thyme.
Remember me to one who lived there.
She once was a true love of mine.
Have her make me a cambric shirt.
Parsley, sage, rosemary and thyme.
Without no seams, no fine needle work.
Then she’ll be a true love of mine.
Tell her to weave it in a sycamore wood lane.
Parsley, sage, rosemary and thyme.
Gather it up in a basket of flowers.
Then she’ll be a true love of mine.
Have her wash it in yonder dry well.
Parsley, sage, rosemary and thyme.
Where water ne’er sprung, nor drop of rain fell.
Then she’ll be a true love of mine…1
“Cecily, that was lovely,” Sara said after they finished the song. “I’m just sorry I play so poorly.” An idea popped into her head. “Why don’t you give a try for the Cameron Scholarship?”
“Me? Cecily King, farm girl from Avonlea? I don’t think so. I’m glad you liked my singing, Sara, but I’m no Sylvia Gray.”
“Nonsense,” Sara said, standing up and impulsively embracing her. “Of course you are.”
“Sara, I couldn’t possibly compete in that. All of those other girls have singing lesson and formal piano masters and…and…”
“And they’re not worth half of you. It’s worth looking into.”
“I’ll only be miserable when I fail.”
“If you ladies would excuse us.” The girls turned and noticed Arthur standing behind them, holding a bouquet of exotic flowers. Morgan, behind him, stood stock still, his eyes locked on Cecily, smiling broadly.
Sara’s heart began racing. For what, she couldn’t imagine. She was so surprised to see them, that she backed straight into the piano and had to be pushed upright again by Cecily, who dissolved in a fit of giggles.
Cecily couldn’t help look at her cousin, who was standing stock still, her large blue eyes seeming even larger. Sara saw her cousin’s smug expression and, instead of giving into the urge to throw the sheet music at her, looked at her with an expression that seemed to be imploring Cecily not to mention flirting of any kind.
Sara blushed, but looked straight ahead. What was Arthur doing there? So early? With flowers? Was he...? Were those...? Certainly, he wouldn’t be so brazen…But then, it was Arthur. Well, if he was bringing her flowers, certainly there was no reason to be silly about it. It was a very nice, friendly gesture to a friend in need. Sara put on a luminous smile.
Arthur tipped his hat. “Good morning, ladies. We were out for a stroll and couldn’t help but be drawn in my such glorious singing. Which of you has that exquisite voice?”
Sara looked at Cecily and nudged her. She raised her hand weakly. “So we thought,” Arthur said, looking at his brother. “Lovely, wasn’t it, Morgan?”
“It was beautiful, Cecily, really,” Morgan said.
“Thank you,” she responded shyly.
“And now, to the purpose of our visit: Would either of you be able to tell me where I might find Miss King?” Arthur asked.
Ah, Sara thought. Of course. Those must be for Aunt Hetty. Why wouldn’t they be for Aunt Hetty? Why would they be for anyone else?
Sara stood straight up, her nerves getting the better of her. Really, nervous because Arthur Pettibone was there with flowers. She was really becoming very silly. She found her voice. “Arthur, I hope you aren’t attempting to coax her into a good mood. She’s been in high dudgeon all morning. Her disposition from last evening has not improved, I assure you.”
“Oh, Sara,” Arthur said. “I would never attempt to coax Miss Hetty King in or out of anything. Besides, these aren’t from us, they’re from Muriel. We volunteered to deliver them this morning so we could get a glimpse of how the prodigal niece is getting on.”
“Very ill,” Sara said. “Aunt Hetty won’t speak to me until I apologize to Felicity. For what, I can’t imagine. It’s not like I…Well, it doesn’t matter. Felicity’s ill, so I can’t speak to her, and Gus told me to just let it go.”
“Perhaps Oriental lilies and orange blossoms aren’t the cure for all of your ills, Sara, although Miss King did mention she was partial to them.”
Sara laughed and went over to him. “She’s breakfasting with Uncle Alec this morning. I’ll take you to her.”
“Well, perhaps I can coax her to speak to you, at least.”
Cecily began to get up. “Cecily,” Sara said. “Stay here.”
“I beg your pardon?” Cecily asked, indignant.
“Practice,” Sara said, turning her head and winking at her. Sara and Arthur walked away together toward the sunny hotel breakfast room. Morgan and Cecily were left alone there together. “Cecily has entirely ruined her disposition with books, Morgan,” Sara announced. “I do hope you won’t find her too outré.”
“You play, of course, Morgan?” Cecily asked in order to break the awkward pause that had ensued after Sara and Arthur had gone.
“Of course,” he said, sitting down at the piano and stretching out his fingers. He began the opening bars of Voi che sapete and Cecily, with new inspiration seated next to her, sang with beauty and aplomb.
Tell me what love is, what can it be?
What is this yearning burning in me?
* * *
“Imagine what you would have thought, Alec,” said Hetty over marmalade and toast. “If Felicity had run off and came back in the middle of the night, bold as brass, with Gus Pike.”
“It’s hardly the same, Hetty.”
“Isn’t it?”
“For one, Felicity and Gus are married.”
“Oh, Alec King, ya know what I mean.”
“I know that Sara is a sensible girl and would never do anything foolish. You raised her too well.” Alec paused before he continued. “And if there is any sort of partiality between her and Arthur well, then…”
“Alec!”
“You jumped to this conclusion before, Hetty, and you were dead wrong. Even if Sara does like him, what is so terrible about Arthur Pettibone, anyway? Need I remind you he did you a good turn not so long ago? He took care of you when you were ill, Hetty. Telephoned us as soon as you were at the hospital -- against your stubborn will, I might add. If it hadn’t been for him…”
“That doesn’t mean I want him pitching woo to Sara,” Hetty hissed.
“Hetty, if Sara says she’s not involved with him, then she’s not. Why would she lie? And if she…if she feels like she need to keep it secret, well, then…”
“Alec!”
“Don’t you think it’s time Sara settled down?”
“Alec King!”
“He’s a fine lad, Hetty, and from a good family.”
“But he’s--”
“Coming in here with Sara.” Alec’s teacup gestured toward the hallway.
Hetty sharply wheeled around in the direction she was looking, to see Sara, walking alongside Arthur, and laughing merrily. Arthur held a bouquet of flowers in her hand. Upon noticing the flowers, and assuming that he had brought them for Sara, Hetty’s eyes grew large and a hand flew to her throat. She was about to get up and march over to them, but Alec put a calming hand over hers and whispered a plea to stay seated.
“See?” she whispered anxiously.
“Don’t make a scene,” Alec implored.
Arthur and Sara approached, Sara straying somewhat nervously behind Arthur.
“Mr. King,” he greeted.
“Good morning, Arthur,” Alec said kindly.
“And Miss King,” he said, handing her the flowers.
Hetty was flabbergasted. Alec couldn’t resist the wide grin on his face. “What? For--for me? Oh, Arthur Pettibone, I suppose Sara put you up to this.”
“Not at all, Miss King. The flowers are from Muriel.”
Clive, after berating his son the previous evening about properly conducting himself with a young lady, and how Arthur should have returned Sara to the Kings at once, had given Muriel a full account of the proceedings. Muriel, thinking Clive was overreacting, but very sorry that her friend had been upset, thought flowers were the least she could do for Hetty. She sent Arthur and Morgan out to buy flowers at a shop and bring them to Hetty, as a sort of apology for her stepson being partially responsible for causing Hetty grief.
“Arthur, I thank ya for the flowers. That’s very kind of your stepmother.”
“And may I inquire what time Muriel should send around the motor car to pick you and your family up for the exercises tomorrow?”
“Oh, a motor car. How thoughtful.”
“Would ten o’clock be all right? Muriel was hoping that you and your family might like to take a brunch at the college before commencement, Miss King.”
“Oh, you may tell her that I certainly shall. I thank ya, Arthur, for delivering the flowers and the invitation.”
“Thank you, Arthur.” Alec said.
“Yes, ah, won’t you join us, Arthur?” Hetty said, her feelings toward him beginning to soften.
“Oh, no. I couldn’t, Miss King. I have it on good authority from Morgan that he will throttle me if I’m not there this morning to help get things ready. Speaking of which, I suppose I ought to be going.”
“I’ll show you out,” Sara volunteered and Arthur cheerfully assented.
Hetty looked at Alec over the boldness of the move. “I’ll, ah, I’ll go,” Alec said. “I’ve finished.” Sara and Arthur looked down at the plate in front of Alec, which was as yet filled to the brim with a delicious-looking omelet. “Sara, why don’t you say here and have some more to eat, huh? I ran into Cecily a bit ago and said you only pecked at your breakfast.” Sara, perfectly aware of what was going on, but not wishing to argue, acquiesced and sat down at the chair Alec had vacated. Alec was thinking he’d quite like a smoke and followed Arthur out to the verandah.
“You’ve made quite a beau out of him, Aunt Hetty,” Sara said in a restrained, polite voice as she poured herself some tea. A waiter had seen that Hetty had gotten flowers and was at that point arranging them into a vase for her. Sara, her stomach somehow feeling more unsettled, began picking at the eggs and toast.
Hetty looked discomfited. “Yes, well, I…Thank you,” she said to the waiter after he had finished. “The lad does have his good points, I am sure.” Hetty sounded doubtful as to what those might be. “Muriel Stacey has had a positive effect on the entire family.”
Sara paused, trying to form the apology that she knew she must owe her aunt.
“Aunt Hetty, I wanted to apologize for my behaviour last evening. You were right: I shouldn’t have run off like that. I caused everyone unnecessary worry and I’m sorry.”
“Well, Sara, I accept your apology.”
“But you hadn’t any right to insult my parents.”
“Sara, I never intended to…I only meant as an example…ya see, your mother…”
“Loved my father. And she ran away from her family to be with him. I know. But can’t you forgive her for my sake?”
“Oh, I’ve forgave your mother long ago, Sara Stanley. Your father was a good man. We had our differences, but there was no doubt that he tried to do right by ya, child. I just don’t want ya making a rash decision, child.”
“Well, I won’t be eloping with Arthur Pettibone. You needn’t worry on that front.”
“There are, I suppose, worse men in the world,” Hetty said.
This was a large concession from Hetty. Sara smiled as she put sugar in her tea. “Yes, I suppose there are.”
Sara sipped her tea, putting off the inevitable, bound-to-be unpleasant conversation she knew she must have with her aunt.
* * *
1 While most commonly associated with Simon and Garfunkel, “Scarborough Faire”/ “Scarborough Fair” is a traditional Scottish folk song. No copyright infringement is intended nor possible, as the lyrics are traditional and thus public domain.
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