“Fees indeed!” She snapped at the door closing behind them. “They dare to talk about fees, do they—?”
“What fees?”
Hands on her hips, her face flushed, Molly fronted the girl.
“Seems like those rescued by these seagoin’ varmints are supposed to fee them for not being left to drown! Never did I hear such un-Christian talk! Wasn’t my own father one of them at the Cape who went out in the boats when there was a ship a-reef at home? And there was no talk then of fees—that I’ll give oath on!”
Persis’ own indignation arose. All of a piece—this wrecking. You rescued a ship, or at least its cargo, and settled with the Captain for either a fee or else the goods to be auctioned. So of course it would naturally follow that the passengers, also saved, had to fee the wreckers in turn. But she fully agreed with Molly’s outraged feelings.
“Did they quote you a sum?” She strove to control her anger. Certainly Uncle Augustin was not going to be bothered by this! Though what she could do, except ask Captain Leverett for a reasonable time to pay, Persis did not guess. The more she thought of this system, the hotter her anger grew.
“I did not ask,” Molly returned. “Knowin’ as how this was yours I just told them straight out to bring it here. Might be all in it is ruined by water anyway. Then that there big Irishman, him who bosses the wharf crew, said as how this couldn’t be moved ’cause it was cargo. I give him the sharp of my tongue about that, I can tell you! Cargo, eh! And I had some things to say about this fee business that one won’t be forget-tin’ in a hurry.
“I told him the master was sick abed and not likely to be able to talk fees. And that he wasn’t to bother you with such foolish wickedness neither. I don’t think,” Molly ended on a note of satisfaction, “we’ll hear any more about it—not from that one anyway.”
So they were not really guests, Persis thought. Captain Leverett’s house might as well be an inn, in spite of all its luxury. Mrs. Pryor ought to be able to straighten out the status of such uninvited intruders. Of all under this roof, Persis believed Mrs. Pryor the best to question frankly. And it was up to her to do it.
She had no idea of what funds Uncle Augustin carried—whether they could so meet their “ransom” when this pirate wrecker demanded it. But if she could gain some idea of the sum— They must be able to pay the doctor also. And there would be their passage on to Key West, and from there to the Bahamas. She, who had never handled more than the household accounts in her life, was more than a little disturbed.
Molly was busy with the trunk. Perhaps Persis could find Mrs. Pryor and get it settled about their status under this roof as soon as possible. Murmuring that she had an errand, Persis went back into the hall and down the front stairs. Raised voices drew her to the back part of the house.
“You know, Miss Lydia, what the Captain would say—and do, if he were home.”
“Yes, but he isn’t. And if he can open his precious house to these people he dragged off the Arrow—then I can entertain a friend. My friend. And I’m not asking any leave of Crewe, which I couldn’t any way—since he is not at home. Mam Rose and Sukie are to do just as I told them—the best china and linen and good food. Ralph Grillon is no seagoing trash. He has every bit as much authority in the islands as Crewe assumes here. And I am not going to be ashamed of this house when he visits. I saw Mason go off to warn Crewe, but it’ll be hours, if ever, before he has that wreck off the reef and ready to bring in. I heard him say so. In the meantime, I am entertaining a gentleman and giving him such hospitality as we are noted for—” Her voice rose higher with every vehement word.
Persis, embarrassed, wanting to be away from her involuntary eavesdropping, took several steps backward. So when she bumped into someone who must have entered very quietly indeed, it gave her such a start she nearly lost her balance. A hand fell on her arm, grasping her firmly, and she turned to look over her shoulder up into the sun-and-sea-browned face of a stranger.
“Steady as you go, ma’am!” The laughter in his eyes matched the curve of his lips. “Never thought I’d be a reef to bring up short such a pretty craft—”
His eyes were not only laughing, but bold. Persis stiffened, not caring for the way he deliberately looked her up and down. As if she were a ship and he was considering purchasing her.
He wore a blue jacket with brass buttons which the sea air had not been allowed to tarnish, and his hair curled about his forehead, for his head was bare though he held an officer’s cap in one hand. She had to look well up, for in height he matched Uncle Augustin’s inches. But he was sparkling alive, having none of her uncle’s aloof reserve.
Persis flushed, realizing she had been staring at him almost as boldly as he had eyed her. Now, dropping his hand from her arm, he bowed.
“Ralph Grillon, at your service, ma’am,” he introduced himself. There was the faintest of accents in his voice. She found it interesting. “Very much at your service.”
She thought he accented that “your” and blushed a little deeper as with a cry of “Ralph!” Lydia came running down the hall, both hands outstretched in very open and informal greeting.
3
Persis had no chance to confer with Mrs. Pryor over the vexing questions concerning fees. Everything now centered about the very dashing Captain Grillon as Lydia made very sure it must. It was apparent that she was completely captivated by her guest, her demeanor far from proper when she showed such a marked preference. Persis, so carefully schooled in the restraint of Uncle Augustin’s household, so well taught in the manners of Miss Pickett’s Academy, was embarrassed by Lydia’s exuberance. And then troubled somewhat on her own account when she became aware that Captain Grillon was making a determined effort to include her in their company, in spite of Lydia’s beginning frowns.
That the Captain was handsome Persis admitted, against her better judgment, for he was too handsome somehow. And she found his familiar way of addressing both her and Lydia increasingly disturbing. Finally she made an excuse of the necessity of attending on her uncle and managed to reach the chamber which had been given her. There she found Molly shaking her head over the creased and dampened contents of the trunk.
“Just look at this!” The maid held up a flounced dress of pale-green spotted muslin. But there were other spots on it now and the ruffles hung damply limp. “I’ll wash and iron them. But, Miss Persis, some of these ain’t never goin’ to look nice and fresh again— I’ll give you my word on that!”
Perhaps an hour ago the implied destruction of her wardrobe might have been a catastrophe for Persis. But now, though she did not in the least want to continue wearing the charity of Lydia Leverett, she had more important matters on her mind.
“Molly!” She raised her voice, lacing it with authority to get her companion’s full attention. “Is there a way you can arrange for me to speak privately with Mrs. Pryor?”
“Now there’s one with her head firmly on her shoulders,” commented the maid. “She runs this house, for all the show of Miss Lydia being mistress. She had a boarding house down in Key West ’til the Captain got her to take over here. A widow woman who—”
“Molly!” Persis’ voice became even more crisp. “I don’t care about her history. I just want to talk with her. Miss Lydia is entertaining a guest and I do not care to journey about the house, hunting her—”
“You wouldn’t find her if you did, Miss Persis. Not right now. She took off with that old witch who came up to the kitchen door. Cook and the maids let out such a screech when that happened m’heart fair stopped a beat. I wonder that you didn’t hear them, Miss Persis—them screaming so. None of them would go near the old hag, but Mrs. Pryor just took up a basket and filled it right up with bread and cheese and good thick slices off a cold roast. Then she and that witch took off together. Strangest thing I ever did see —Mrs. Pryor, she being so proper and neat, and that other one—” Molly sniffed disparagingly.
Persis was interested in spite of herself. “What do you mean by a witch, Molly?”