But what made her think her remaining time here would be short? If only she knew the day her monthly flow should begin, but she had always been so irregular-sometimes going three weeks, sometimes two months-that she had long ago abandoned marking the time.
A baby. She shivered as a raw gust of air penetrated her cotton nightdress. Could fate be so cruel?
Her mind rebelliously shut out the possibility. Pulling her head back into the room, she slid the window closed and padded across the carpet to her bed.
Images of small children with hungry eyes and empty bellies plagued her as she slipped between the fragrant sheets. Now there was no one to take care of the little group of urchins she had been feeding with her own pennies, the pennies she could ill afford to spare.
Laying her head back on the soft pillow, she sighed, doubting whether she would ever be able to save her money, even if she did get a job in a shop. At the first sight of a hungry face, her purse strings would always open. Still, what was the use of a new dress or a pretty bonnet when the money could be put to better use buying cups of hot eel soup and loaves of bread?
Outside a night owl called to its mate, but the young girl in the elegant blue bedroom did not hear. She had finally fallen into a troubled sleep haunted by nightmare images.
She was lying in front of a fireplace, the heat from the flames searing her naked skin. Her arms had been shackled above her head, her legs spread and pinioned. Simon and Constance, dressed in evening attire, were sipping sherry from crystal soup bowls and watching her, while starving children huddled in the corners of the room. Occasionally Constance would walk toward her, poke at her body with an elegantly slippered foot, and shake her head sadly.
"Poor creature. What a pity; she's not done yet. Ah, well, soon she'll be ready."
Then they were all gone, and Quinn was with her, his figure enveloped in a black cape. "You should have told me you couldn't read. Now I'm going to have to punish you for your stupidity."
His face, a mask of unleashed savagery, loomed over her, coming closer and closer until his blazing eyes seemed to be cutting into her soul. Pulling her naked limbs from the shackles, he raged at her.
"Hang by the neck until dead!"
Then they were all around her, even the children, circling and shrieking, "Hang her! Hang her! Hang her!"
Letty's knock awakened Noelle. What a horrible nightmare! She pressed the heels of her hands into her eyes, shutting out the daylight.
"Come in."
"Morning, Miss Pope," Letty murmured. "Do you want your tray on the table, or would you rather eat in bed?"
Noelle struggled into a sitting position. "On the table," she muttered. She felt awful; the smell of the warm rolls, instead of whetting her seemingly unappeasable appetite, was making her stomach churn. "Take it away, Letty," she croaked. "I've changed my mind." As an afterthought, she added, "Leave the tea."
"Yes, miss." Letty darted a curious glance at Noelle and then removed the tray from the room.
Noelle fell back on the pillow and took several deep gulps of air. That awful nightmare-it had actually made her ill. Lifting her head slightly, she peered at the small clock on her nightstand. It was after eight-thirty; she had to hurry to be in the library by nine o'clock. Perhaps the tea would help settle her stomach.
She drank it hot and strong and did seem to feel better for it. After stepping out of her nightgown, she washed and brushed her hair, tucking the frizzled strands behind her ears. The navy blue dress was being laundered that day so she resigned herself to an itching neck and stepped into the brown merino. Barely glancing at her image in the mirror, Noelle sped from the room, almost colliding with Constance in the hallway.
Constance's green eyes regarded her reproachfully. "I'm happy to see you are prompt, Noelle. However, a bit less haste would be more seemly."
"Yes, Mrs. Peale," Noelle said, smiling sweetly and then smothering a giggle at the sight of Constance's suspiciously lifted eyebrows.
Constance proved to be an excellent, if demanding, instructor. Since Noelle already recognized the letters of the alphabet, Constance began teaching her the sound each letter made. Noelle's quick mind absorbed all the information Constance gave her, and by the end of the morning she could slowly read down the columns of words Constance had printed out for her.
"Hat, cat, fat, pat, rat, sat, tat, bat… had, bad, lad, mad, pad, sad." Slowly she sounded out each word.
Finally Constance pushed herself back from the library table, where they were seated, and consulted a gold watch pinned to the bodice of her gray cashmere dress. "I think that's enough for today. Tomorrow we will begin work on the sounds that are produced when letters are combined."
Noelle looked up, her mind full of its new discoveries. How tantalizing it was… the way letters became sounds and sounds fit together to form words. "How long do you think it will be before I can read something by myself?"
"That's difficult to say, Noelle. You're my first pupil, so I really have no experience to draw upon. I do know we still have much to do. However, you learn very quickly and are certainly most conscientious about applying yourself." Constance paused thoughtfully for a moment. "I believe I know just the thing."
She walked to the library shelves, where she climbed up on a small stool and pulled a book from a shelf above her head. "This is Daniel Defoe's Robinson Crusoe," she said, handing a worn volume to Noelle. "As you can see, it's a bit the worse for wear; it was one of Benjamin's favorites."
As Noelle studied the first page Constance remembered another one who had loved it. She could see him now, perched on a branch of the tall elm that stood near the back of the house, an unruly lock of black hair tumbling over his brow, this same book open in his lap. Her inability to have a child of her own had been like a knife in her heart that summer as she had watched him running and climbing, building a raft. Life was so ironic! Here she was sitting with his wife, and she didn't dare share the memory.
Noelle sighed. "I can't imagine ever being able to read this."
"Of course you will," Constance responded briskly. "Put the book next to your bed. Every night before you go to sleep, open it and try to read from it. One night you will surprise yourself."
The clock in the hallway chimed. "I have some matters I must attend to before lunch," Constance said. "This afternoon I would like you to practice what you have learned this morning, but only after you have a nap and then a long walk. Exercise is as invigorating to the mind as it is to the body." Constance swept from the library, leaving the fragrance of violets in her wake.
The next few weeks quickly settled into an established routine. Noelle ate a sizeable breakfast, and then the two women worked together in the library most of the morning. Constance was an exacting taskmaster, even modifying Noelle's pronunciation if it rang too harshly to her sensitive ear. Declaring it was not enough for Noelle to be able to read, she soon decreed that her pupil must also write.
"But I won't be here nearly long enough to learn that," Noelle argued. In fact, she was not as certain of that as she seemed. There was still no sign of her monthly time and a heavy band of fear was settling itself around her.
"Nevertheless, you will begin," Constance insisted stubbornly. "You must first learn to print the alphabet in upper and lower case. After you have mastered that, you will begin practicing the letters in script."
Noelle complied with Constance's dictate; however, the task proved maddening for her. The recalcitrant letters stubbornly refused to stay in an orderly row. They clumped together or developed spidery blots at their ends. Her final product was so different from Constance's flawless model that she invariably crumpled it into an angry ball and flung it into the basket.