The Voyage of Lucy P. Simmons (11 page)

Miss Oonagh linked arms with Grady. “Daniel,” she scolded, “it took ye long 'nough!” With a wry look Grady tipped his cap at Marni and led his mother back toward the house.

Marni watched them go. An intense desire emanated from her—I could feel it pressing on my chest. She ran a hand through her hair. Tipped her head slightly, listening to something we couldn't hear. Seamus and I scarcely breathed. She lifted her chin and turned one way, then the other, like a greyhound sniffing the air, trying to pick up a scent.

I wondered if she sensed us hiding up there above her. But, instead of looking up, she took a deep breath, exhaled, and set off in a westerly direction. I felt suddenly ashamed—for eavesdropping on her need. For only seeing her as strong, as being there for me. All the while she took her loss in stride, shouldering the pain of it. Could it be that Oonagh had been right—right in the sense that Marni's son was gone—dead at sea, and that Quaide followed him there? And that ever-present attraction of hers for the ocean depths was actually some sixth sense or mother's intuition that pulled her toward her boy? I felt a lump in my throat, words of regret on the tip of my tongue. I turned, and Seamus's face was right in front of mine. Before I could speak he cupped my chin and kissed me.

“But . . . ,” I sputtered, caught in a tumult of feelings.

“But what?” he asked, his eyes lazy and very blue, a smile tweaking the edges of his mouth.

“Marni . . . ,” I began. It was all too confusing. I took a deep breath and slipped down to the next branch.

“Lucy, wait!”

“I have to go!”

“But why? Lucy!”

I peered up at him. “There's something I have to do!”

My feet touched the ground. Marni was crossing the field, moving like a ship through the waves of wildflowers. And I followed.

16

I
tracked Marni from a distance, keeping her just in view. She'd walk for a while, then stop, stand absolutely still, and rotate slowly in a circle, as though waiting for some invisible clue to direct her course. Whenever she'd pause I'd slip behind a stand of trees, or duck behind a stone wall, wondering if she could sense my presence. If she did, she didn't let on.

She continued, across fields and meadows. Where was she going? A building, set on a hill, came into view—an imposing stone structure. It appeared to be some kind of institution—perhaps a hospital or asylum. She quickened her steps, proceeding toward it. On closer inspection I realized it was part of a compound spread across several acres—a low block spanned one side, a three-story main building behind it, and a number of wings connected by a central hall. At the western side of the site stood another stark two-story construction. There was an air of deprivation about the place, with nothing in the way of embellishment, no flower box or garden bench, no statuary or ornamentation. The windows were deep narrow slits, suggesting an interior dark and dank.

A door opened and twenty or thirty girls about Annie's age filed out, all wearing uniforms—dark smocks topped with full white aprons. They trudged in line, a dour matron marching beside them wielding a hickory stick, barking orders and delivering blows to any girl who moved out of step.

Even from where I stood I could feel Marni's outrage, and, at the same time, her restraint. She collected herself and strode toward what appeared to be the front entrance. Once she disappeared inside I moved closer. A placard hung beside an entranceway:
BALLYVAUGHAN WORKHOUSE
.

The sound of a cry turned my attention back to the formation of girls and their warden. The woman grabbed one sorry child by the hair, yanking her out of line. “Ye know there's no jabberin' on the way t' work! Wastes time better spent gettin' t' the task at hand! What ye need is the slothfulness beat out of ye! Learn the value of work!” She savagely whacked the cowering girl with her switch.

“Stop that!” I cried. “What do you think you're doing?”

The line of girls gasped and gawked at me. The matron froze, and slowly, deliberately turned from her sprawling victim. Her eyes widened at the sight of me, and then narrowed. The ire that screwed up her features melted into a cruel smile. “What do we 'ave 'ere?” she asked, tapping the switch against her palm. “An indignant do-gooder? Protestin' for the rights o' the poor?”

“There's no need to beat a child!” I cried. The gaping girls straightened up a bit and stared at me as though I was some strange, never-before-seen creature.

The matron's nostrils flared. “Here's what ye don't understand, missy. Pauperism is bred into 'em. Suckin' off the system fer generations. They need t' learn to be God-fearin' and productive, they do. That's me job. I'd suggest ye take yer fancy privileged self offa the property, before I call t' have ye removed.”

I blinked, realization dawning. It was a poorhouse. A work camp for those of no means. The little girls lowered their eyes. Their shoulders slumped. Acid rose in my throat as I stared at the self-righteous bully.

“I'm waiting for someone,” I said, stubbornly holding my ground.

“Is that right?” The matron sneered. “So if I were t' announce ye to the warden he'd vouch fer ye?”

I hesitated.

“Jest as I thought. Be gone with ye then, before I alert the guards.”

Frustrated, I turned and hurried back the way I came, my thoughts jumbled. What had led Marni there? What was her purpose? Did she think her son, now a grown man, was an inmate? Or had she been drawn to the parentless children, in the same way she'd been led to Walter, Georgie, Annie, and me, just when we needed her most?

I found myself back in the meadow surrounding the capt'n's farm, with no recollection of the route I'd taken—such was the extent of the anxious thoughts knocking about my brain. Not only about Marni and her quest, but of my own quest as well. When would the curse assert itself again? And why was I plagued by the feeling I was missing something right before my eyes? I was surprised to nearly stumble over Annie, crouched before a small raised mound of earth. She was so totally immersed in whatever she was doing that she failed to notice me, despite my close proximity. Her attention was focused on the ground before her. She was speaking quietly.

“I know he made a terrible mistake. But he's an American, like me. We didn't know about these things—until we got here. And, besides, he's a boy. You know how they are.”

Was she talking to herself? Or perhaps she was praying? She paused and there was a buzzing sound, similar to that of a bumblebee, except the high-pitched hum varied in tone, with a dipping and rising inflection.

I inched closer and my mouth dropped open. In Annie's open palm sat a tiny sprite—she was clothed in greenery, a delicate leafy frock, her shoes and belt crafted of tree bark. A necklace of miniature blossoms adorned her neck. The mystical creature's iridescent wings were the size and shape of a dragonfly's. Her face was surrounded by brown curls, and atop her tumble of hair sat a hollowed-out acorn cap. I realized that the buzzing was actually the sound of her quick and frenzied speech.

Itdoesn'tmatterwherehecamefrom.Heinsultedmeandmykind.

“Oh, but he learned his lesson—it will never happen again! Please, please, Nessa, give me the antidote! You trust me, don't you?”

Imightgiveittoyoubutifheoffendsmeagainhe'llbesorry!

“He won't, Nessa, I know this, for certain! I promise!”

Nessa rose from Annie's hand and began to flutter toward a small hole in the ground. Abruptly she pivoted in midair, and hovered. When she noticed me she let out a torrent of fairy buzz, so quick and agitated that I couldn't understand a word.

“Lucy!” Annie gasped. “What are you doing here? Fairies don't like to be surprised!”

Nessa tucked her wings in close, then sprang into flight. Like a bolt of light she made a beeline for the hole in the ground, and disappeared inside.

“Nessa! Nessa! Please, come back. Please! It's only Lucy! Lucy believes! Tell her, Lucy!”

“I . . . I believe in fairies,” I mumbled. “I believed even before I saw you.” I looked at Annie for help. She nodded vigorously, and I went on. “Had already met the Grey Man . . .” Annie shook her head. No! No! “But I know you're of a different class of fairies than he. . . .” Annie nodded encouragement. “A more . . . refined class of fairies . . .”

I heard the hint of a buzz and saw her peek out of the burrow. I ventured on. “In fact I have the greatest respect for all manner and members of the world we mortals can't usually see. And I too apologize for Walter. Ignorance was what it was, not rancor or disdain.”

Nessa edged farther out of her lair, resting her elbows on the ground. She peeked between tall blades of grass, chin resting in her hands.

HowdoIknowyou'retellingthetruth?

I considered this for a moment. “Annie can vouch for my trustworthiness. She and I have faced many challenges together, and I believe she'd say that when I give my word, I mean it.”

“Yes! Yes, Nessa, it's true! Lucy is brave and strong and isn't afraid to stand up for what's right! I love her very, very much!”

The sight of Annie speaking so passionately, with such conviction, brought me, once again, toward tears. Her face so earnest—eyes wide, lips pursed, her cheeks rosy with resolve.

Nessa slipped from her tunnel and zipped into flight, hovering just inches from my face. She peered at me, tipping her head this way and that, considering.

IfyoucanproveyoubelieveinmagicImighttrustyou. . . .

Before I could respond, Father's flute, in its usual place in my pocket, began to vibrate and hum, a sound not unlike her own fairy speech. The pixie's eyes opened wide and she cupped her ear. The flute nosed its way out and levitated toward her. She flitted around it, reaching a tentative hand toward the tone holes. As she touched it, a burst of glitter cascaded from it, riding the wave of the familiar melody—
a-lah-di-dah-dah-a-lah-di-dah-di. . . .

Ohmygoodness!ItsbeenyearssinceIheardthattune!

“You've heard that tune before?” I asked, incredulous.

AnoldmelodyfromtheislandIthink.

“You see!” Annie squealed. “I told you! Lucy believes in magic just like you! And so does Walter—he forgot for a moment, that's all! So you'll give me the antidote?”

Firstyouhavetogivemesomething!Somethingmagical!

She eyed the flute in the most covetous way and I felt a flash of anger. Fairy ransom! I couldn't possibly part with Father's flute! Nessa flew along the length of it, over and around, running her hand across the surface. I had the urge to grab the magical instrument and shove it back in my pocket. Annie watched me, wide-eyed and hopeful. And then the memory of Walter's infected finger. What had the horrible doctor said? Ten minus one? Was keeping the flute worth all that? I was ashamed at my selfishness.

Suddenly I had an idea. “The flute is magical, for sure, but wouldn't you prefer something smaller and lighter that you could easily carry? Something less weighty and cumbersome?”

Nessa zipped to a stop before me, her wings pulsating so rapidly they appeared as a sparkling blur.

What?Whatisit?

“A talking card.”

Ooh!Showittome!

Annie looked at me anxiously. We both knew that the cards performed amazing feats at random, and spoke only when they felt like it. The rest of the time they lay in their ivory case like the bunch of musty old cards they appeared to be. And they often provided important clues about the past, about the treasure. I was regretting the offer already. Which card could I possibly part with?

Sensing my hesitation, Nessa became even more excited.

Yes!Yes!Amagiccardfortheantidote.

“Give us the antidote first,” I demanded. “Then I'll give you the card.”

Ifyoudon'tI'llshootWalteragainandshootyoutoo!

I didn't doubt for an instant that she'd have her collection of fairy darts at the ready. Extortion is what it was, pure and simple. I would have enjoyed giving her a good swat! But Walter's health was at stake. There was nothing else to do but comply. “Agreed,” I said. “Now, the antidote?”

Tonight,underthecupboard.Avialoftonicforhimtodrink.

“Good. Once we have the vial of tonic, we'll slip the card under for you.” And, I thought, once Walter was well we could, once again, concentrate on the treasure.

Yes!Yes!Justkeepthatsnufflingbeastaway!

“Pugsley scared her,” Annie explained.

“We'll be sure to keep him away,” I said, shuddering at the thought of what havoc fairy darts in the snout might cause. “So we're in agreement? The antidote for a magic card? Tonight? After supper?”

Yes!Yes!UnlessIchangemymind!

17

W
e hurried back toward the house to share our news of Nessa's antidote.

“Look!” Annie pointed. “Someone's visiting!” A horse and buggy was tied to a post in front of the cottage. My heart dropped. Having visitors would complicate things. I was bursting to explain to Pru what had happened, and to figure out how to select a card from the deck for the antidote exchange. It had to be done by evening. And I still wondered about Marni visiting that horrible workhouse.

“Do you know who it is?” I asked, hoping against hope that whoever it was wouldn't further thwart my efforts to find the treasure and dispel the curse.

Annie shook her head.

“Whatever you do, don't say anything about Nessa in front of company,” I warned.

Annie sighed. “I'm not a baby!”

“I know that—I'm just reminding myself.” Which was true.

We pushed open the door. The sound of excited chatter poured out. “Oh, there she be!” A girl about my age bolted toward me. “Oh me gosh, Lucy, I know ye though never I've laid eyes on ye! Read all me mam's letters, I did, from the time I was just a wee one, hearin' tales of Aunt Addie's adventures in America!” Excitement lit the girl's delicate, heart-shaped face. Her long-lashed eyes and shoulder-length, thick hair were the color of honey. A sprinkle of freckles across her nose made her beauty a little less intimidating. Before I could respond she grasped my hand and pumped it in a hearty shake. “I'm Brigit, and this here's me mam, Aunt Addie's sister.”

“Patsy,” the older woman said. I studied Brigit and her mother, an older, less refined version of my Addie. Patsy grinned at me, revealing horsey teeth and an open, merry face. “Brigit ain't exaggeratin'. We two read every correspondence, followed yer adventures. Rooted fer ye every step o' the way, we did, from clear across the Atlantic! So when we heared Addie'd come t' Ballyvaughan we made the trip from Dublin t' see 'er fer ourselves. And t' meet the famous Miss Lucy!”

Addie beamed at her sister and niece, dabbing her eyes with a hankie. “Does me heart good to see all the womenfolk I love in one place!” she gushed.

Aunt Pru nodded. “I know the feeling. Family ties are stronger than steel.” She threw an arm around my shoulder and pulled me close. Brigit and Patsy could barely contain their curiosity, scrutinizing Pru and me. I could understand their fascination with Pru. Without intending to, my aunt wore her worldliness—the stacked exotic bracelets, her Australian jodhpurs and white tailored shirt, the tumble of wild reddish hair, and the confidence that came with it. I was suddenly so proud of her, and grateful to be linked to her as family.

“Come! Sit down then, all of ye,” Addie said. The table was already set for tea. “Wait, let me give dear Walter a hand,” Brigit cried. “What with that terrible wound he's suffered. Very brave, he is, and so uncomplainin'!”

“Uncomplaining? Ha!” The words burst from my mouth. In all the excitement I hadn't noticed Walter sitting in the capt'n's wing chair. At Brigit's words he was already on his feet, eager, smiling, making a liar of me.

Brigit raised her pretty eyebrows for a second, then turned and took Walter by the arm, propping his swollen hand on her shoulder to keep it elevated. His finger lay there like a giant, overplump earthworm. I was suddenly out of sorts with both of them—Walter, miraculously transformed from the ornery, demanding person he'd been just hours before, and kind and understanding Brigit, who seemed a saint in his eyes. Saint Brigit! Reading my sour thoughts, Addie leveled a cautionary look—the one she'd reserved for times when I'd been on the verge of sassy. I glowered. Patsy looked away. What a first impression! I was making a fool of myself, and embarrassing Addie. And to make matters worse, the edges of Pru's mouth curved up in a smile, as if this was somehow funny.

I plunked myself into the chair and drew it up to the table. I hadn't intended for it to screech along the floor—it was as though the wretched seat was expressing my own sentiments. Everyone glanced up, then quickly away. Addie, in particular, was staring at me as though I was someone she didn't recognize. “Sorry,” I blurted, and forced a smile.

“She's just clumsy,” Walter said.

I glared at him and he laughed.

“Oh, what a tease ye are, Walter,” Brigit said. “Lucy can sail a ship, an' ride a camel! How clumsy can she be?”

“I'm
not
clumsy,” I said emphatically, reaching for the teapot. In my haste I knocked my cup on its side. It wobbled, rattling against the saucer.

“What's gotten into ye, child?” Addie asked. Brigit covered her mouth with her small white hand and giggled. Walter shrugged, a grin spreading across his face. I shot him a hateful look. When I realized Brigit was watching me, I tried to replace it with a neutral expression. My mouth twisted strangely with the effort. Beside petite, graceful, and polite Brigit, I must have seemed a fright—scowling, dirty overalls, a dark line beneath each of my nails, hair disheveled. With a clink and a clack I righted the cup, folded my hands in my lap, and stared at my plate.

During tea I said little, concentrating wholly on projecting poise and confidence. Walter managed to wolf down a couple of scones without moaning or groaning, despite his purple swollen finger. Perhaps the pain was decreasing and he wouldn't need the antidote after all. But if I went back on my word, Nessa would surely retaliate. So now, because of Walter we both had a fairy problem! It was all his fault!

The clock chimed—
bong, bong, bong, bong!
Four o'clock. Out of the corner of my eye I noticed a swift flash of light beneath the cupboard. Pugsley took off. Annie and I flew from the table, my chair toppling behind me with a bang.

“Who said she wasn't clumsy?” Walter quipped, making a big show of righting my chair.

“No, Pugsley!” Annie and I shouted in unison, dragging the eager pup away from the fairy hideout.

The smile was suddenly swept off Walter's face. He waved his hand. “Oh, ow!
Ow!
” he shouted, jumping from one foot to the other.

Brigit's eyes opened wide. “Oh dear,” she said. “How can I help ye?”

“You can't,” I said. “What he needs is an antidote, and I'm working on getting it. But then again, I might be too clumsy to manage that. Might be better that he try to arrange it himself.” I crossed my arms and shot him a look.

“Aw, Lucy, come on. . . . Don't be that way!” Walter cried. He blew on his finger. “I was only teasing. . . .”

“All right, I can see we've enough high emotions fer one day,” Addie said. “Whyn't ye put the dogs outside, and all of ye's head t' yer rooms to relax fer a bit while Patsy and I'll prepare fer the evenin' meal?”

“Good idea,” I said, giving Annie the eye. We marched upstairs, collected the box of cards, and slipped into Pru's room.

“Tell her!” Annie said.

Before I could respond, the ivory box began to tremble. The lid rattled and flipped, sending a shuffle of cards catapulting into the air. In an instant three of the face cards hovered between us, all talking at once. “You're not sendin'
me
with some scheming little fairy,” the queen of diamonds growled. “Get stuck in some musty underground burrow for the next three centuries? Forget it!”

“I don't know why you're worried,” the queen of spades retorted. “Unless your power is so much less than that of a wee sprite.”

Molly O'Malley, the queen of diamonds, shot back, “Then why don't
you
go—after all, you're the high and mighty pirate queen! Or so you think!”

“Why not let the fairy choose?” the king of diamonds interjected.

“Y'only say that because, given your history with women, y'know she won't pick you!” Molly said. The king of diamonds laughed wickedly. The two queens, Mary Maude Lee and Molly O'Malley, each leaned forward off their cards, viciously swiping at the man who had betrayed them both. It was hard to believe that these nasty, self-centered characters embodied the spirits of my own flesh and blood.

“Hold it!” Pru commanded, capturing the cards in one ferocious clap. “Somebody better tell me what's going on!” The muffled voices of the feuding queens and their king could be heard escaping between Pru's clasped palms. She looked at Annie and me. “Out with it!” she demanded.

Talking at once, we explained what had transpired.

“Oh my,” she said. “That does put us in a bind. We need the antidote, but we also need the cards.” A small diaphanous arm wormed its way out of Pru's grasp and pinched the soft skin along the inside of her thumb.

“Ouch!” Pru slapped the cards together more vigorously, forcing the ghostly appendage back into the magical card.

A nearly inaudible voice said, “You're going to need us to cooperate. Let us breathe and maybe we can figure this out.”

Pru caught my eye. Her expression asked,
What do you think?

I nodded. Annie exhaled. Pru carefully plucked the cards one by one and laid them out on the table.

Molly O'Malley, the queen of diamonds, spoke up. “I'm thinkin'—if I was picked, what would be in it fer me? Nothin' except the possibility of learnin' something about the treasure.” She glared at her two rivals. “Information I wouldn't be sharin' with either of you!”

“What makes you think the fairy would know about that?” Pru asked.

The queen of diamonds shrugged. “These kinda fairies live for ages. Love sparkly things, inhabit the same realm as leprechauns—gold-digging opportunists, all of 'em. They inhabit the underground world where witchery reigns. And they're sneaky. See without bein' seen.” She pointed a chubby finger at Edward, the king of diamonds. “One of their ilk could've been watchin' ya. Might know whatever it is you ain't sayin'.”

Edward shifted his eyes back and forth. Mary Maude Lee raised her eyebrows, considering. “I'll go,” she said.

“Ye will not,” Molly retorted. “I'm goin'!”

“First nobody wants to go,” Annie said, “now both of you do?”

Edward piped up. “I'll go. Save the, um . . .” He cleared his throat. “. . . ladies, if I may use the term loosely.”

“Forget it!” the queens shouted in tandem.

“Let's make a deal,” I said. The three face cards floated before me, suddenly attentive. “The one of you who can find out the most
and
that I can trust to pass along whatever you learn gets to go. But you have to prove you're the best candidate.”

“But wait,” Pru said. She picked up the queen cards. “You have no use for the treasure now. Why do you care so much?”

“I think I can speak for both of us,” Mary Maude Lee said. “We both want to find out what this no-good traitor did with the treasure. All the trouble goes back to him!”

“Hmph . . . ,” Molly said. It was as close as she'd get to agreement.

“Then, which of you promises to tell us everything you learn from the fairy?”

“No promises,” said Molly, “until you can guarantee an eventual rescue.”

“She's right,” the queen of spades agreed. “Why should we tell you anything if you leave us in the fairy den for all eternity?”

“I've got it!” I said. “We offer both queens to the fairy. She can choose between you. Be as charming as you can and the one who impresses her the most wins the opportunity.” I grinned at them. “And then, after you see what you can learn, we share the information with the queen who
wasn't
chosen, and trade in King Edward for the return of the chosen queen.”

The king of diamonds flipped up and viciously sliced the air in front of my face. “Entirely not acceptable!” he shouted.
“Not acceptable!”

“I think it's a grand scheme,” the queen of spades said merrily. “Don't you, Molly?”

“Indeed I do!” Molly reached off her card and she and the queen of spades shook hands. Great-grandfather Edward threw a tantrum, pounding his fists, puffing his cheeks, a stream of curses exploding from his lips, sending his card reeling through space and onto the floor, where Annie promptly stomped it into submission.

Pru laughed heartily and grabbed my hand. “Lucy, my dear, you are a genius! I'd say we have our plan! Hold on to these cards to ensure that none of them disappear during dinner. And then we'll make the exchange!”

I took a deep breath and gathered the cards, hoping against hope that my wager would pay off—the antidote for Walter, and another possible clue for me.