Hook's Daughter Read online

  “She took an instant dislike to you from the beginning after your father came to visit with a dozen new frocks, that lovely locket, and a pile of pin money. She’s just jealous.” While she talked, Francie’s fingers flew as she twisted Rommy’s hair into an intricate braid high on the back of her head. “It didn’t help you witnessed that horrible scene her father made in the parlor about her mid-finals.”

  “It was hard not to hear with him shouting like that,” said Rommy. “I tried to slip away, but then I knocked over that dumb door stop. When I remember all the nasty things he said to her, I feel sorry for Primrose.”

  “Not only that, but your father is from a titled family, even if he is a second son,” said Francie. “Poor Primrose. Her father is positively filthy rich, but there isn’t one title to go with all that money. He’s such a miser. She hardly has any pin money to spend. Mother says it’s a positive disgrace, and his disposition is so sour it would curdle milk.”

  “Francie! I can’t believe you said that!” said Rommy.

  “What? You know it’s true.” Francie shrugged. “Still, I do feel sorry for Primrose at times, but she is so horrid to you, I can’t like her.”

  Rommy turned and hugged Francie around the waist. “You are the best friend.”

  “Don’t get all sentimental. Now, turn around, so I can finish your hair. We have to make you look mature and ready for anything so your father will say yes.” Francie grinned at Rommy in the mirror. “I know he will, Rommy. This is the year!”

  3

  The Visit

  Rommy looked at the clock again. It had been just over an hour since Francie had squeezed her hand and wished her luck, and Papa still wasn’t here. She got up and stood by the window of the visiting parlor. The draperies were parted, and the late afternoon sun had given way to early twilight.

  To pass the time, Rommy went over her arguments again to convince Papa to take her with him this summer. She was halfway through her list when something brushed against her ankle. Miss Cleopatra, the resident cat, had meandered into the room. Now she wound around Rommy’s ankles, purring. Rommy stooped and gathered the cat up in her arms.

  “I wonder why Papa’s so late,” she said to the cat. The cat simply butted her head against Rommy’s chin, her polite way of asking to be petted.

  Rommy obliged, rubbing the cat behind her tufted ears.

  Suddenly, the cat tensed and stared out the window. She let out a soft hiss. Rommy peered out, too. With the sunshine gone, there were only gray shadows outside the window. She held Miss Cleo close as she gazed into the gloom gathered beneath the trees. The branches of the large chestnut tree swayed as if something had recently left their boughs. Was that a shadow? Rommy squinted but could see nothing. She shook her head.

  “Silly cat. Did you see another cat or perhaps a squirrel? Whatever it was, it’s gone now.”

  Rommy gave a last glance out the window and returned to her chair. The clock chimed six o’clock. She had barely settled herself and the cat when a familiar voice made both her and Miss Cleo tense up again.

  “I see you are still waiting,” said Primrose, who stood in the doorway of the parlor with Lily Von Vreeland and Violet Peevey. Francie always called them the wilting bouquet.

  The thought made Rommy smile, and she lifted her chin. The only way to survive an attack by Primrose was to act as if she didn’t care in the least, no matter what the girl said. Rommy knew Primrose would be even more unpleasant after losing this afternoon. “Something delayed Papa. It’s not unusual in his line of work.”

  “Delayed? You’d assume that since he only gets to see his precious daughter for a few hours two days a year, he wouldn’t want to be late by so much as a moment.” Lily and Violet giggled on cue. “But then, maybe he doesn’t want to make the most of every moment. Maybe he doesn’t care at all.”

  Rommy knew better than to respond. Her words would only be twisted into an argument she couldn’t win. Not with her father still absent, anyway.

  A clear voice came from outside the parlor. “Primrose, Lily, Violet? Shouldn’t you girls be in the music room for your lessons?” Miss Watson stood in the hallway. “It’s sweet of you girls to check on Andromeda, but you really must not be late to your lessons. Mr. Montclair is waiting, and his time is very precious.”

  “Yes, Miss Watson,” the three girls chorused, but not before Primrose had shot Rommy a narrow-eyed glare that promised more ugliness when a teacher wasn’t around. Rommy let out a small inward sigh. She wasn’t afraid of Primrose, precisely, but she tried to avoid these encounters. Being on the fencing team with Primrose would make that much more difficult.

  “Andromeda, do you want me to have Mrs. Stackhouse send up tea? I’m sure your father will be here soon.” Miss Watson smiled kindly.

  “Yes, ma’am, that would be wonderful. Papa will be famished when he gets here. I’m sure he was just delayed along the way.”

  “I’m sure,” said Miss Watson and turned away to go to the kitchens.

  It took forty-five minutes for the tea to arrive. Miss Watson brought it herself. She placed it on the low coffee table and took a seat in the chair across from Rommy. By this time, it was after 7 p.m.

  “Andromeda, dear, can I pour for you?”

  “Oh no, I want to wait for Papa,” said Rommy, although her stomach had been steadily sinking since the clock had chimed 6:30. Papa was never this late, at least not without sending word. Rommy shuddered, remembering the only other time he had been delayed this long.

  “Andromeda.”

  Rommy looked up at Miss Watson; her blue eyes were kind. “I think we probably have to face the fact your father is not coming tonight.”

  “But...”

  Miss Watson held up her hand to forestall Rommy’s protests. “I realize it is a great disappointment and that you look forward to these visits, but if your father was coming and delayed this long, he would have sent word by now. I think we are going to have to accept that he isn’t coming tonight. I understand this is not the present you wanted on your birthday.” She reached out and patted Rommy’s hand. “I did have Mrs. Stackhouse add a small coconut cake. I know they are your favorite. Why don’t we have our tea and then you can go back up to your rooms. I won’t make you go to the end of music lessons tonight since you’ve already missed most of them.”

  Rommy’s shoulders slumped, but she dutifully placed Miss Cleo on the floor. “Thank you, Miss Watson. You are very kind,” she choked out.

  Miss Watson poured the tea and handed a cup to Rommy. The cup clattered in the saucer but Rommy managed not to spill it. She picked up the dainty coconut cake, which was no bigger than the palm of her hand. She swallowed a few bites. Each one stuck in her throat. She blinked to keep the tears from spilling over. She just wanted to go to her room. The day had held such promise. Her win seemed like a sign things would be different. It only made her disappointment that much worse.

  Miss Watson had picked up a dainty watercress sandwich. She paused when Rommy’s lip quivered. “Oh Andromeda, I appreciate you are dreadfully disappointed, but I’m positive there is an explanation. Shipping is always unreliable. It’s a wonder that your father hasn’t missed one of these visits before now. After all,” she said with a smile, “even the great Captain Cavendish cannot control the weather.”

  Rommy tried to return the smile but couldn’t quite manage it. “What if he doesn’t come at all? I so wanted to tell him I made the fencing team.”

  Miss Watson leaned forward. “He will be so proud of you, Andromeda. I know that I am. You worked hard and achieved something nobody at Chattingham’s has ever done before. That’s quite noteworthy.” She smiled. “I’m sure he’ll be here within a day or two. Your father loves you, and this separation is likely as painful for him as it is for you.”

  Rommy couldn’t help the question that burst from her lips or the hope attached to the answer. “Do you think so?”

  “Yes, my dear, I do. Now, run along upstairs. I’m sure Franci
e will help you find your smile again. I’ll take care of the tea things.” Miss Watson stood, and Rommy did, too.

  Rommy turned to go and then stopped. “Thank you, Miss Watson, for the tea… and things. Let Mrs. Stackhouse know that her coconut cake was most delicious.”

  Miss Watson smiled, but it didn’t quite reach her eyes.

  4

  The Idea

  Rommy was on the second landing of the staircase, headed to her room, when she heard Primrose’s voice again. “Oh Andromeda,” said Primrose. “I’m so sorry your father didn’t make it. How sad for you.” Following behind her, Violet and Lily giggled.

  Primrose came up and dropped her arm around Rommy’s shoulders. Rommy shrugged her off and continued up the stairs. If she could just get to her room, she could lock Primrose and her friends out.

  “Maybe he got busy and forgot.”

  Obviously, Primrose wasn’t going to give up.

  Rommy shrugged again and continued moving. She figured the less she said the better.

  “Or maybe your father had something better to do than to see his daughter. Christmas is only, let’s see,” Primrose paused on the stairway, “a little over seven months away. You’d think he would have at least let you know he wasn’t coming instead of letting you sit in the parlor all evening.”

  “I’m sure he would have, if he could.” Rommy couldn’t help the words from tumbling out.

  “It’s so humiliating to be stood up by one’s own father.” Primrose shook her head. The other two girls giggled again.

  They had made it to the third floor. Rommy smiled tightly and headed toward her room at the far end of the hallway, but Primrose blocked her path. Lily stood on one side and Violet on the other.

  Placing a hand to her mouth in exaggerated concern, Primrose said, “Oh dear, I hope nothing has happened to him. The oceans are so terribly dangerous.”

  Rommy couldn’t help the quick intake of breath. Primrose seeing her advantage leaped on the vulnerability. “Shipwrecked or drowned in a storm, or attacked by pirates and made to walk the plank−who knows what’s really happened? You must be so worried. I can’t imagine what other reason would keep him from letting you know he would be late.”

  Lily put her hand on Primrose’s arm. “Primrose, you shouldn’t….” Primrose pulled her arm away and gave Rommy a nasty smile.

  A stinging sensation began behind Rommy’s eyes, and she swallowed to keep the tears at bay. If she could just get in her room.

  “It’s really too bad he isn’t here.” Primrose sighed. “I guess it’s another summer here at school. Maybe Francie’s family will take pity on you again and let you come home with her. I’m sure her family is kind enough not to mind the imposition.”

  “My mother adores Rommy, and we’d be oh so lucky to have her with us this summer,” a bright voice said behind them. Francie shouldered her way to stand next to Rommy and gave Primrose a pointed look. “Unfortunately for you, you’ll be spending the entire summer with your father.”

  Primrose sniffed. “I’m sure I don’t know what you mean.”

  Francie pressed her advantage. “Just think, an entire summer of listening to all the ways your father expects you to improve.” She cocked her head. “With his wise tutelage, I’m sure you’ll finally bring up those French scores.” Francie gave a savage grin.

  “You are a rude and uncouth girl, Frances Hyde.” Primrose pushed through both girls and walked stiffly down the hallway, Lily and Violet trailing behind her.

  “Don’t you think you were a bit harsh?” said Rommy as she watched Primrose walk away.

  “Would you rather stand there and be target practice for her?” Francie retorted. “No, you should be saying, ‘Thank you, Francie, for saving me from the vile clutches of Primrose Beechwood. I am forever in your debt and will give you my firstborn as payment, or better yet, take you with me on my father’s ship this summer.’”

  “I don’t even know if I’ll be on Papa’s ship this summer,” Rommy said, her gloomy mood returning as the two girls entered their rooms. “What if something genuinely has happened to him? I can’t believe he wouldn’t send word if he was only delayed.”

  “You worry too much, Rommy.” Francie collapsed onto her bed and pulled Rommy down with her.

  “Francie, the last time my father was this late, he arrived with a silver hook instead of a hand.”

  Francie wrinkled her nose. “Well, there is that, but he was otherwise fine. Did he ever tell you what happened?”

  “No, not with any detail. What if he doesn’t come at all? What if he’s in trouble?” Rommy felt tears stinging her eyes again. She rubbed at them impatiently. She hated crying, and it felt like tears had been threatening all day.

  “What can you do if he is?” said Francie flopping onto her back. “You can’t go sailing the seven seas looking for him. He could be anywhere. He most likely got tied up in some port or another. You know how these foreign places are. Most have miles and miles of paperwork.”

  “I wish there was some way I could get word to his offices. Perhaps someone down there would know something.” Rommy put her hands over her face. “He has to come before we get out for summer holidays. You know I love your family, but I couldn’t bear the disappointment if I don’t get to spend this summer with him.”

  Francie sat straight up on the bed. “That’s it!” She bounced up and paced the confines of their bedroom. “You could go down to the docks where his offices are. Someone down there might have learned something or that clerk of his −what’s his name? −he’d know something.”

  “Are you insane? There is no way that Mrs. Wilkes will let me go down to the docks. Who would chaperone me?”

  “Are you balmy on the crumpet? You wouldn’t tell anyone!” Francie put her hands on her hips and rolled her eyes. “Sometimes, Rommy, you are too concerned with the rules. Do you want to find out what happened to your father or not?”

  “Balmy on the crumpet? What does that even mean? If your mother found out you were using slang, she would be livid.”

  Francie let out a snort of laughter. “Mother would swoon. Charlie taught me that one,” she said referring to her second-oldest brother, one of her seven siblings. “It means you are not right in the head, and stop trying to change the subject.”

  “I can’t just sneak out of Chattingham’s. I’d get in so much trouble if I got caught. I’d likely get kicked off the fencing team, and then where would I be when Papa shows up?”

  “At least he would know you could take initiative,” said Francie. “Where has all that rule-following gotten you, anyhow?” Francie said.

  Rommy threw up her hands. “A lone girl can’t go wandering around the docks. I wouldn’t make it past the tube station before someone would return me to the school’s front doorstep!” By this time, Rommy too was standing and her voice had risen.

  “Sshhh−do you want everyone to hear you?” Francie grabbed Rommy’s hands and pulled her back down to sit on the bed. “You could sneak out, and I’d cover for you. It wouldn’t take more than a day, and then you could sneak back in when it got dark again. If you dress in your fencing outfit and stuff your hair up under a cap, you could pass for a boy.”

  “Thanks loads,” said Rommy, letting out a strangled laugh. “I guess being so small is finally coming in handy.”

  “It could definitely work,” said Francie. Her eyes were shining with excitement.

  “I don’t know, Francie,” said Rommy. “I don’t know how we could possibly pull this off without getting caught, and what would I do if they kicked me out of school? I have nowhere to go. Even our house in town has only a skeleton crew of servants. And if Papa came back, he’d be furious.”

  “You won’t get caught. I have some experience in fooling adults,” said Francie. “And even if you do get caught, I bet if you cry and tell them how worried you are about your father, Mrs. Wilkes wouldn’t be so heartless as to kick you out. You might get punished, but I will lay odds they won’t ev
en kick you off the fencing team.”

  “I don’t know,” Rommy said. “Maybe I’ll hear from Papa in the morning.”

  “Just think, Rommy. Actually, doing something rather than waiting around for an answer. That will surely impress your father with your resourcefulness. What better way to prove that you can go with your father when he finally shows up?”

  Rommy bit her lip. “It’s an awfully big risk. If we get caught…”

  Francie stood up and shrugged. “If it was me, I don’t think I could just sit around and wait, but it’s up to you.” She gave an exaggerated yawn. “If we aren’t going to plot your escape, I’m going to bed.”

  “I didn’t say it wasn’t a good idea, but what if he shows up in the morning? I think waiting until tomorrow to see if Papa turns up is the sensible thing to do.”

  Francie quirked an eyebrow. “And we know you always do the sensible thing.”

  Stung, Rommy turned away. She slipped her shoes off and started to unbutton her dress. Silence stretched between the two girls. Francie was the first to break it, throwing her arms around Rommy in an impulsive hug. “I’m sorry. I just got so excited about planning a great escape. You are likely right, and you’ll hear from him in the morning.”

  The tension in Rommy’s shoulders drained away as she hugged Francie back. “It’s a good idea, but there’s no use planning anything if Papa shows up in the morning.”

  “You’re right,” said Francie. “We’ll see what tomorrow brings.”

  The two girls got into their nightclothes, cleaned their teeth, and climbed into bed. Francie turned down the gas lamp, and soon Rommy could hear her soft breathing that signaled she had fallen asleep.

  It took Rommy a considerably longer time to find sleep.

  5

  The Decision

  The next morning, Rommy and Francie headed into the breakfast room, which was already full of students. While the teachers encouraged the girls to use good manners and not be coarsely loud, it was also a time they could socialize. The room held a pleasant hum of conversation accented by the clink of silverware.