***
Amy is dutifully waiting at the appointed spot, now looking back anxiously to see if Mistress has come out to snatch her back, now looking around for me.
I pull up in front of her and dismount and bow. "Miss Trevelyne?" I say, making my voice low and trying to keep a straight face.
"Y-yes," she says, all confused. "But who are you and where is..."
Then I give her my best grin and salute.
"Oh, Jacky, no..."
"Do you like it?" I say, spinning around. "Ain't it a good fit?"
"Jacky, we cannot!" she wails. "After the events of yesterday, I thought you would be somewhat chastened, but oh no ... This is scandalous! You will be arrested and you will be taken and ... and someone will see you! Those are your ... your limbs there."
"Oh, fiddle-dee-dee," says I, taking her bag and fastening it to the back of Hildy's saddle. "All they'll see is a lovin' brother and sister, ridin' home for the weekend to see our lovin' mum and dad. We'll ride straight through, not stoppin' at no inn for refreshment, and no one will be the wiser. Who'll know?"
Her bag being secured, I say, "Up with you, now," and I take her hand and lead her to her mount and help her up, just like any decent gent. She sits there, shaking.
I return to dear Gretchie and I mount, swinging my leg over seabag and horse's rump. Amy shudders and looks away.
"Believe me, Sister," says I, to make her easy, "folks sees what they expects to see."
And with a whoop! from Midshipman Jacky Faber, newly back in naval harness, we clatter off down the street.
We head south in the city, first a wild gallop across the Common, scattering livestock out of our way, and then by the ropewalk and a burying ground and onto Pleasant Street at a brisk trot, down to Orange and across the causeway and out of the city of Boston. The town thins out very quickly and soon buildings give way to rolling fields and farmhouses. We go at a quick walk for a while to give the horses some rest.
"Ain't this just prime?" I exults as we leave the cobblestone streets of the city and head off into the country.
"This will be just prime if we do not get caught," says Amy, ever the optimist. "Oh no, someone is coming!"
I see a gent up ahead, approachin' in a small open buggy pulled by one horse. "Our first test!" I says, all gleeful, and wipes the smile off me face and puts on a serious but pleasant face.
"Good day to you both!" says the man cheerfully as we come abreast. "And a beautiful day it is!"
I drops me voice down a notch and says, "And a very good day to you, Suh!" And I raise my riding crop to my brim by way of salute. Amy drops her eyes and nods demurely.
"Played like a pro, Amy, my dear," says I, when the man and his rig have passed. "You were the perfect sister, and you see that we have nothing to fear."
"I suppose," sighs Amy.
I take a deep breath and feel the jacket tighten around my chest—it is of heavy material and cut so close and snug that I did not even have to strap myself down. Not that there's all that much of me to strap down, but still ... I smile to think back to my old Deception.
It is so good to be out and free and back in sailor gear again that I just can't keep down the joy bubblin' inside my chest.
"Free!" I have to shout out. "Free of the school, free of Mistress, and free of that awful Preacher. Free! Free of switches and constables and rods and—"
"Hush, Sister ... or rather Brother," scolds Amy. "We do not want to attract attention."
"Right," says I, and I stands up on the saddle, which is something I wanted to do ever since I got a little bit good at riding but which I could never do in front of Herr Hoffman or even Henry.
"Ta-da! Miss Jacky Faber, Queen of the Circus, for your delight and amazement!" I announces, the reins in my left hand, and my right hand in a grand sweepin' gesture as my feet step up on Gretchie's dear broad rump.
"Jacky, you are going to fall!" pleads Amy. "Get down, now!
I drops back down and my bottom makes a soft whump as it hits the saddle.
"You are going to hurt yourself, you are," she says, sounding like she's fed up with me and my ways.
"Ah, no little babies for little Jacky, now, eh?" I tease.
"Hummph," says Amy, but I think I almost get a smile out of her.
"Let's have a song, then."
And so the day wears on. We pass many people on the road, but no one suspects us of being anything other than what we appear, a brother and sister riding along talking and singing amidst the glorious colors of the fall.
We trot for a time, and then canter awhile. Then walk, then gallop, then dismount and walk the horses to let them rest and cool down. There are ripe apples hanging from branches overhead and we feed them to Gretchen and Hildy and we eat some ourselves.
We stop for lunch next to a brook where the horses can water themselves, and we sit on the grass beneath a tree and eat the sandwiches that Peg had made for us. Earlier we had come upon an old man selling cider by the wayside and I pulled out a coin from my jacket pocket, one of several I had put there last night, and bought a jug of it.
"I am sorry I do not have any money," says Amy, looking a little ashamed. "I have never been given any."
"Ah, who expects a poor farm girl to have any coin o' the realm, and, besides, I say it's a pretty poor sod what can't stand her mate to a bit of a treat."
We pass the jug back and forth. The sandwiches are made from slabs of meatloaf tucked in thick pieces of bread on which Peg has put some sort of gravy and they are wondrous good. Thanks, Peg.
"You Yankees have fine soft land here," says 1.1 tips back the jug again and takes a long swig, then sprawls back on the grass, knees in the air.
"Let us hear you say that in a few months when we are in the dead of winter, dear," says Amy. "And you had better be careful of that cider. It is quite hard."
"'Hard'?"
"It has fermented and has some alcohol in it."
"Ha. Don't worry about that. I know to be wary of old Mr. Booze. Ain't I seen his handiwork lyin' outside many a tavern? No, Jacky Faber ain't gonna be one of his victims, I can tell you that."
I think of Gully then and how he's wasting his great gift on the drink and how I don't understand that at all.
"You know, Amy," I says after a while of looking up at the sky with its fluffy white clouds and birds scudding by. "We sound awfully good singing together. We might think about getting up an act. To play in the taverns, like."
I hear a choking sound from Amy and figure she's taken a bit too big a bite of her sandwich.
"We could do songs, of course, and dancing, but we also could do recitations of your poetry and dramatic readings and such. We could be the Fabulous Valentine Sisters. 'Valentine' sounds all exotic and romantic, don't you think?" I says. I suck a bit of meat out of my back teeth and go on. "Trouble is, that harpsichord of yours ain't too portable."
"Come," says Amy, getting up, "we have several more hours to go."
"I shall think on the problem as we ride," says I.
We're gettin' pretty close to the end of our journey, ac-cordin' to Amy, who has, for some reason, gotten more jumpy with the nerves the nearer we get. I figures she thinks I'm gonna be disappointed with her little farm, but she's wrong. She don't know yet just how humble my beginnings really were, so if we get there and it's just a lean-to and a pigsty, it'll look like home to me. In truth, I'd be glad to be gettin' just about anywhere, as my bum is gettin' sore from sittin' in the saddle all the day long.
I'm babblin' along, talkin' about this and that and how maybe we could mount the harpsichord on wheels, when Amy says, "Turn here."
She pulls Hildy's head to the left and starts down a smaller road that goes between two great stone pillars. On one of the pillars is fixed a brass plate with "Dovecote" writ on it.
"Wot's this?" I says. "The name of the village your farm is in?"
"No," says Amy, real low, "it is the name of our farm."
"Your farm's got a name? I never heard of such a thing," says I, givin' Gretchie me heels and pullin' up next to Amy as she goes over a small rise and the woods end and the prospect opens up. "But, then, that's sort of sweet it is, to name your little ... Oh, my God..."
"I'm sorry, Tacky," cries Amy, lookin' at me all trembly and worried. "I thought if you knew you wouldn't come!"
I look down over the prospect. There is the great house with its three stories and its huge chimney at either end and its grand entrance, gleamin' all white in the afternoon sun. There is not one, but one two three four five barns. A stable. A racetrack with white fencing all about. There are horses in paddocks and cows in fields. There is a small river running down on the left and, on the right, neat fields, newly harvested. There are men and women and boys and girls, all out on their many tasks, and beyond all is the sea, all sparkly and bright.
"What is done now, my Lady? You'll have to help me 'cause I don't know what to do," says I, hanging my head all humble. "Do I get off and lead your horse down? Where are the servant quarters? Should I go there direct? Should I—"
"You stop with that now," hisses Amy, reaching out to clutch my arm. "Are we not still the Dread Sisterhood? Are we not still the Fabulous Valentine Sisters?"
I laugh and lean over and give her a nudge and say, "Of course we are, Sister, and I'm glad you're rich and I wish you the joy of it! But I shall pay my way when I am here, I shall gladly curry the horses, and if any hog needs slopping, well, I'll slop the hell out of him!"
We ride down toward the main house when I spy there a young man dressed in a fine uniform and talking to one of the stable hands.
"He's a pretty one, he is," I says.
Amy starts up in her saddle. "It is Randall. My brother. He is not supposed to be here." Her brow furrows, and she does not seem pleased.
"Your brother?" exclaims I, delighted. "Why are you not glad to see him?"
"You will see," says Amy, and she will say no more.
"Well, then," says I, the evil fizzing up in me again. I feel it comin' but I can't stop, I can't be good I can't I can't. "Let's have some fun! Play along! Follow my lead! Let's go!"
And with that I give poor Hildy a swat on her rump with my crop and give poor Gretchie a dig with my heels and together we gallop down to meet Brother Randall in a fine cloud of dust.
When we gets there, I wheels Gretchen about and dismounts as I does it, which looks rash and dashing. I bounds over to the astounded young man and pulls myself to attention and salutes and roars, "Midshipman Jack Faber. At your service, Suh!"
He manages to nod, astonished.
"Your sister Amy has honored me beyond measure by inviting me here for the weekend, to sample the charms of your beautiful estate and her own sweet company! I am blessed beyond measure!"
I bow to Randall and go to Amy's side and help her down. I take her bag off of Hildy and get my seabag from Gretchen and hand the reins to the astounded stable hand. Bowing again to her brother, I take Amy by the hand and lead her toward the big house. I turn and salute again.