I had not expected to arrive in Ezra's office in quite such an inelegant fashion. If he could have brought me in by the scruff of my neck, I'm sure he would have.
Amy weeps quietly in her chair, her hands coverin' her face, and I'm sittin' here all straight with my hands folded in my lap and my best Jacky-takes-her-punishment look on my face. We are both a bit mussed from our run. I stick out my lower lip and blow away a lock of hair that has found its way into my eyes.
Ezra, sitting at his desk, is looking at me most severely. I have finally managed to erase his little smile.
"It is possible that you are insane," he says. "Perhaps I can have you committed to the female asylum. That might keep you out of the Preacher's hands."
"I was told that music wasn't against the law in Boston," I says in my defense.
"No, but creating a public disturbance is against the law."
"We warn't doin' nothing but—"
"If you had been caught, you would have been taken to court and charged. You would then have been thrown back in jail, a place I recall you did not enjoy overmuch the last time you were there, and I do not have the slightest doubt that the Court would have declared you a wayward child. The Preacher's petition of guardianship would then have been immediately granted and you would have been taken directly to his house. After you were taken out and caned, that is. Remember, you were convicted of lewd and lascivious behavior, and although the sentence was suspended, it would be carried out if you were arrested again. Does any of this make sense to you?"
Amy whimpers all the more on hearin' this. I swears there's a steam of shame risin' off her like a fog. She may be in a state of fatal mortification. She was barely able to produce a decent curtsy when I introduced her to Ezra.
All right, Ezra, all right. I get it.
"I am sorry, Ezra...," I say, and put on my best I'll-be-good look.
"Sorry. Hmmm." He picks up his quill and points it at my nose. "Shall I describe the rod? It is about three-eighths of an inch in thickness, and although it is called a cane, it is actually quite whiplike. You would be put on your knees and your back bared and your hands tied to the post. You would have to use your elbows to prevent your shirt from slipping forward and baring your breast to the crowd. Not that you'll care about that after the first stroke of the cane. Constable Wiggins swings the rod, and he makes it no secret that this is the part of his job that he finds most pleasing. Especially if the victim is a young and pretty girl. As the welts begin to form, succeeding blows would cause them to bleed and, eventually, scar. Is that a sight you want to present to your future husband? Your Mr. Fletcher?"
"No, Ezra, I don't," I whispers and hangs my head, and this time I takes it to heart.
"All right," he says, and sits back in his chair. He allows the half smile to return to his lips.
"The Preacher was back in court today to press his case. Once again, I was able to keep things up in the air, pending an inquiry by the Court. Of course, if he gets wind of your actions today, I'm sure he will press even harder, you exhibiting delinquent and immoral behavior and all."
He pauses, and then he goes on. "If he came over to take you without a court order, would Mistress Pimm hand you over to him?"
"In a minute," I says. "To her I am nothing but a serving girl."
"Hmmm," says he. "Then maybe it would be better if you could leave the school for a short period of time. For the weekend. Till we see how the wind blows, as it were. I'd rather be working to prevent you from being taken than working to try to get you back. He can't do anything more today, and neither can we, the court being closed and not being open again until tomorrow, Friday at nine. You would not have to leave till morning. Is there anyplace you can go? I regret that propriety prevents me from offering you shelter here, me being a bachelor and all." He looks at Amy when he says this.
I says, "I can stay at the Pig and Whistle and..."
"That would not be appropriate," says Ezra in a warning tone.
I'm wonderin' what's wrong with the Pig when Amy comes up with, "We will go to our farm. In Quincy. She will be safe there."
Ezra smiles and brings Amy to her feet and escorts her to the door. "That will be perfect, Miss Trevelyne. Please visit with me upon your return."
I nod and go to the door.
"Please be good, Jacky," he says in parting.
"I will, Ezra, I promise," I say. At least, I'll try.
"Coo, Amy, this will be such fun. We shall slop hogs and sleep in the barn and ... you do have hogs, don't you?"
"Yes, we have hogs," says Amy, her voice weary with the events of the day, "but we also have a problem. There is no coach to Quincy tomorrow. How shall we get to the farm?"
"Why, we'll just take Gretchen and Brunhilde," I says. "Henry Hoffman trusts me. I've been helpin' him with the stables, the brushin' of the horses and stuff. It's only an easy day's ride, you said, so what's the problem?"
"Two girls can't go riding off alone in the country, not without a male escort." She sighs, weary, also, of my lack of knowledge of New England ways.
I think for a minute, and then I says, "I know someone who'll escort us. So put it out of your mind. We've got to stop in here for a moment."
We've come up next to the Pig and Whistle as I planned, takin' a route back that would bring us here.
Amy gasps. "No more, please, Jacky, I can't take any more." She's close to tears, I can tell.
"Now, don't worry. I've just got to get a message to someone. Come on."
We go in and there's Maudie at the bar and I says, "Good day, Maudie, could you tell Gully I ain't gonna be able to play this weekend as I got to leave town right quick?"
"Don't worry about it none, Jacky. He's back in the slammer again, and he'll be in for a few days, at least. He took a swing at the constable," says Maudie, sadly. I know she's thinkin' of the lost business.
"I'd be glad to do a solo act, Maudie, but I really..."
"That's good of you to say, Jacky, but you go on. We'll see you when you get back."
And we're back outside. "I won't even ask what that was about," says Amy, as we trudge back up the now familiar path through the Common to the school.
As we are about to duck back in through the kitchen, I have a thought and say, "You know what, Amy?"
"What?"
"I think our Mr. Pickering likes you," and I give her a nudge with my elbow.
"Oh, Jacky, please," she says, as she heads upstairs.
At lights-out I imagine them all down there kneeling by their bedsides saying their prayers, their white nightgowns ghostly in the moonlight, and I know Amy is thanking God for her deliverance, relatively intact, from a day with the wild and wanton Jacky Faber. I kneel down beside my bed, myself, though it is not my way to do so, and I call down the blessings of heaven on my long list of names, starting with Jaimy and Davy and Tink and Willy and Benjy and Liam and Mum and Dad and Penny and ending up with Snag and Burnt Tom and Johnny No Toes. This night, I adds another. "And please bless and keep by your side Janey Porter, a young girl cut down in her prime, who you know never did no wrong. Amen."
Amen.
Mistress taps her cane twice on the floor and they climb into their beds and are quickly snugged up and very soon asleep. Me, too.
Chapter 19
"Now, you just be outside the back door in half an hour and I'll go get our escort," says I to Amy, all excited to be off to visit Amy's place. She don't look too happy just yet and I knows it's 'cause she's ashamed of the dirty little farm where she comes from but she don't know the places I've been so it will be all right. "Tonight we shall sleep in your barn all covered with hay!"
Amy nods. "All right. And I'll leave a note for Mistress saying I'm feeling poorly and we are off to home for a few days. She won't care if we go, but she'd care very much if we didn't tell her we are going."
"Tell her we're off to Timbuktu for all I care," I says. "Out back. Half an hour." I pick up my seabag and sling it over my back and rattle down the back stairs.
"You have a good time, Jacky, but you be careful of those handsome plowboys!" sings out Annie as I tear through the kitchen. It's my weekend off, and they're gonna cover for me today and on Monday till I get back. They know I'll make it up to them.
A wave to all and a promise to be good and a quick peck on dear Peg's cheek for havin' bagged up some sandwiches for us and I'm out.
"Henry! Dear Henry, quickly! Amy Trevelyne and I are going to her farm for the weekend and we need Gretchen and Brunhilde saddled up! Please, Henry." Bat, bat of the eyelashes, hopeful smile on the lips.
"Mistress said it was all right," I pleads. It's sort of the truth—she will know that we are gone, she just won't know how we went.
Henry looks doubtful. "Maybe I should check with Mistress."
I look all hurt and abashed and I stick my lower lip out like I'm going to cry and he gives it up. "Oh, all right. For you, Jacky."
I clap my hands for joy. "Bless you, Henry," I say. "And Henry, if you would, please put a regular saddle on Gretchen."
He protests, of course, but I say I know what I'm doing and I'll be right back, please please please.
I take my seabag and duck into an unused stall. I open the bag and reach in and take out the midshipman's uniform I had got from Midshipman Elliot during my last days on the Dolphin. I had put it at the top of my bag so it would be easy to get at today.
I take off everything I got on—weskit, blouse, chemise, stockings, slip skirt, and then the drawers—'cause nothin' I had on would fit under this uniform, not even the drawers, 'cause the uniform is so formfitting, and with the flounces on the drawers, it just wouldn't work.
Standing nak*d in a stable is a new one, even for me, and I hope that Henry don't get done too quick and come lookin' for me. I hurries into my new rig.
First I put on the white shirt with the white lace at the neck and wrists, then the white stockings, and then the tight white breeches that buckle under the knee and over the stockings. I dust the hay off my feet and slip on the shiny black pumps. Now the black jacket with its shiny brass buttons that button all the way to the neck, letting the lace show above and at the wrists. The jacket comes down to my waist and is of heavy broadcloth and is tight and feels good on me.
I fold up my girl clothes and stuff them in the bag. Then I put on my cap, which is black like the jacket and has a shiny black leather brim, stuff my hair up underneath, pick up my bag, and stride out. Henry is just bringing up the horses, all saddled and ready. Gretchen whinnies out a greeting as soon as she sees me. Henry's mouth drops open as he takes me in, but not a sound comes out.
I turn my back to him and tie my seabag to the straps on the back of Gretchen's saddle and then turn back to Henry, who is now a bright shade of scarlet. Well, maybe these britches are a bit tight.
I take the reins from his hand and put my foot in the stirrup and swing my leg up and over and settle into the saddle. Then I lean way over and whisper into Henry's ear, "You won't peach on me now, Henry, will you?"
I let my lips brush his cheek as I come away and straighten up. I give him a wink as I give Gretchen a little cluck and we head out, leading Hildy, into the light of day.