“Molly!” Her recognition was in small part real relief.
“Miss Persis, you should have called me.”
“Why? I’m past the age when I have to be buttoned and tab-tied into my clothes—well past. Do you realize, Molly, that in a couple more years or so I’ll be what you New Englanders term a ‘thorn-back’—a real old maid.” She laughed at the outraged expression on Molly’s face. “Come, admit it now. Here I am near past twenty and no men ever thought to offer for me. Nor has anyone had the good taste to seek out my company beyond the merely civil.”
“And why?” Molly exploded angrily. “You never saw nobody but them who was old enough to be your grandpa! It was a crying shame that Master Rooke was so set on his own affairs that he never noticed you was growing up and needed company like all young maids!”
Persis was a little surprised at Molly’s heat. The maid had always appeared to accept Uncle Augustin’s way of life as a proper one and Persis’ place in it as suitable for the lady she labored to make of her.
“Yes, I don’t think Judge Sims would ever have made me an offer, though he was polite enough. And Mr. Hugues only looked at me as if I were a chess piece.” The girl laughed. “Uncle Augustin had his own ways, Molly, and after all he gave me a good home, schooling, and a lot more to be thankful about. He was so old I suppose I was always just a child as far as he was concerned, and he can’t be blamed for that.”
She leaned forward a little to look at herself in the too-ornate mirror. With her hair all down about her shoulders she did look younger of course. But since she had left school and taken on such responsibility as Uncle Augustin seemed to require of a female, she had somehow never thought of herself as a girl again. Never had she had Lydia’s quick changes of mood, her outspoken criticism of her elders, and her self-centeredness.
And certainly she had none of Lydia’s prettiness. She did not quite understand now why she picked her hostess as a measure to judge her own self-lacks, save for the past two years her only contacts with former schoolmates had been a couple of decorous tea drink-ings a month and the attendance at three of their weddings. Though Uncle Augustin had never forbidden her to invite friends to his house, she had somehow innately known that to do so would be taking a liberty on her part which she had not been prepared to do.
Did she look old? Compared to Lydia, she probably did. No wonder Mrs. Pryor had considered her staid and sober enough to act as a relief nurse for the Captain. Perhaps the housekeeper credited her with even more years than she could count.
“Look at yourself, Miss Persis.” Molly had already taken brush and comb away from her mistress and was starting to pin and braid, reducing her too-fine and flyaway hair to decent order. “There’s girls much less favored as has been wearing a wedding band for some years. You —” she stepped back a little to survey Persis, “you make too little of yourself, Miss Persis.”
“You’re very comforting, Molly, to an old maid—”
Molly’s face flushed. “Now don’t you never say that ’bout yourself, Miss Persis. We think ourselves into things. I’ve seen that happen a mite of times. I’ve watched you, Miss Persis,” she continued. “You owed a duty to the master right enough—him taking you in and all. But you gave him back all that you could. And it wasn’t fair that you never had a chance to be yourself.”
Then Persis said a thing which surprised her as much as it must have Molly.
“Myself? I don’t know what self I really am, Molly.”
“Then,” said the maid firmly, anchoring the last loop of braid firmly into place with a bow of rose velvet ribbon at its base, which she pinned on with a defiant air as if she expected Persis to protest such frivolity, “it’s time you’re findin’ out! An’ don’t talk to me about ‘thorn-back’ and old maids—I won’t hear it. There you are—as elegant a young lady as ever came out of New York. Miss Lydia may have all the curls and the laces, but you’ve got something else. And—” she reached in her apron pocket and pulled out a small piece of paper which had been overfolded twice and then stuck together with a blob of red wax. “I was asked to give you this here—by a young gentleman, no less. You remember who you are and make the most of it, Miss Persis.”
She went to lay away comb and brush and tidy up the room. Persis fingered the note in sheer surprise, before she pried loose the wax with a fingernail and read the few lines of bold script black and heavy across the page.
Miss Rooke:
I hesitate to ask such a favor of you but the situation is such that I cannot go openly to the house and I have information of great value for you. Upon my last meeting with Captain Leverett he forbid my visiting his house, or indeed his island. But this knowledge is of such importance that I have taken the risk of both offending your sense of propriety and encroaching upon forbidden waters to bring it.
You have, Miss Lydia informed me, inherited certain properties in the Bahamas. I have a recent report which may well affect your claim in this direction. If you will allow me to explain it to you, come to the point of the Key, beyond the ruined mound, as near to sunset as you can manage and I shall meet you there.
Ralph Grillon
Persis read it through twice. Wisdom, she thought, suggested most firmly that she ignore such a missive. On the other hand Ralph Grillon was from the Bahamas; he might even have known of the Rooke family there. If he did have such information as he said, it could influence her own future plans one way or the other. She did not in the least care for such a semisecret meeting as he suggested, but she was well aware now that there had been a fierce altercation between Captain Leverett and the Bahamian on the day Uncle Augustin had died. At the time she had only half-heard, and hardly attended to the story, but it seemed that the two captains had met outside the house and Crewe Leverett had warned off Ralph Grillon in a no uncertain way—saying if he caught him again on Lost Lady he would take steps which would effectively insure that the Stormy Luck would never harbor here again.
Since Persis had guessed that Ralph Grillon was more one to take such a prohibition as dare, she was not surprised he had returned. But she did not want to be drawn into any difficulty which might lie between her host and the captain from the Bahamas. On the other hand she must learn to stand on her own two feet.
Persis knew how easy it was to drift into dependency on someone, as she had on Uncle Augustin. Even now she worried when she thought of what might lie ahead. And if Ralph Grillon—Why, he might even know of a lawyer in the Bahamas who could act for her, since the wreckers dealt much with courts and legal matters. Yes, she would see him.
The note she folded and put away in her small purse. Then she wondered if she should not consult with Lydia. To go with the other girl might be well. Only she had some of Uncle Augustin’s need for family privacy. The story of her Bahamian inheritance was not altogether such a savory one. Even in discussing the broad outline of her inheritance with Captain Leverett she had not mentioned what lay behind the very generous gesture of the widowed Madam Rooke. Molly now, and perhaps Shubal—but they were family. No, she would not speak to Lydia.
Once more she found that the veranda was the center for dining and lounging. Lydia sat in a cane chair, yawning over a book which she declared was too tedious for words after she made a perfunctory inquiry concerning Crewe. Sukie brought a tray of food and Persis ate with a good appetite. As she had slept late, the hour Grillon had appointed could not be too far off. Now she must devise a way for reaching that part of the island he had indicated.
She thought she knew her way, for the burial ground which lay on the highest point of the Key looked down toward the point. And, though she hated to use family sorrow as an excuse, she announced that she would like to take some fresh flowers for Uncle Augustin’s grave. Lydia yawned, advised her to wait until it was cooler, and then went reluctantly to interview Mam Rose, since apparently she had been forced by Mrs. Pryor’s stay in the sick room to assume some small duties in the house.