The long light shakes across the lakes,
And the wild cataract leaps in glory.
Blow, bugle, blow, set the wild echoes flying,
Blow, bugle; answer, echoes, dying, dying, dying.
Avery found her own place among the shelves and tugged a few glittering stories and dusty history books from the stacks, situated herself on the floor, and began to read, looking for information about Queen Elizabeth and her secrets.
Her only concern became having enough time to read everything she wanted.
One of the books she discovered was a Bible. She turned its onionskin pages carefully, letting the words wash over her soul like cool water on a blistering day. As she scanned, the pages seemed to come alive to her as no other book had the power to do.
Hours later—or so it seemed—Avery looked up to find Kendrick standing over her. He still didn’t look her in the eye, but he appeared happier, more relaxed.
A new, unspoken bond seemed to form between them.
He held out a hand to her, whispering, “We should go.”
She accepted his help, tucking the Bible under her arm as well as a copy of Great Expectations and Gulliver’s Travels to borrow and return.
“Books are made for lending,” her mother had always said.
Avery decided she would accept Kate’s offer to attend chapel services with the other thirteen-year-olds. Reading the Bible made her hungry to know more.
As she climbed the stone stairway behind Kendrick, she was grateful she had found another friend.
Avery skipped supper so she could begin drawing a map of the castle.
Returning to her mattress, she was surprised to find a large, thick parchment rolled and tied with a ribbon and resting on her pillow.
She untied it and shook it open.
It was the painting of Queen Elizabeth she had discovered in storage.
But why? Who had given the painting to her?
And then her gaze came to rest on the ruby necklace. It was circled with a message.
Stop looking for it or your whole family is in danger.
Looking both ways, she lifted her mattress just enough to slide the painting underneath. She would think about how to handle this message later. For now, she had something else to do.
Relying on her day-to-day experiences and memories of the afternoon she and Kate had spent exploring, she began sketching a floor plan, noting in block letters the rooms she knew and adding a question mark for those she didn’t.
The more she drew, the more she realized how accurate her mother’s stories and songs about the castle had been. Avery had no doubt about her mother spending time in the castle, but when and why remained mysteries to her.
And why didn’t she ever tell me?
How to get to the tunnels in the castle’s underbelly remained another mystery, one she was bent on solving. If she found an entrance to the tunnels, she and the other kids would have a way of escape if they needed one. And with the unpredictability of the castle, it was likely they would need one. If the king died, escape from Angelina might be essential.
None of the doors she had tried on the lower level had yet led to anything helpful.
She was also eager to discover in which rooms Angelina spent most of her time.
Avery had meant every word in the note she had pinned in Angelina’s wedding dress: You have secrets I will uncover if you do not let us go.
“Now I need to find what they are.”
The queen’s smile when she read the note confirmed everything Avery suspected about her. She was growing more confident by the day that Angelina was responsible for their confinement. Now she had to prove it, understand the reason behind it, and do something about it before the king died and left his evil wife to rule the castle.
Avery scooped up her map and tucked it in the pages of one of her library books. She had one last task to accomplish before everyone else got back from supper.
Taking the copy of Gulliver’s Travels from the library, she wrapped it with the cloth the way she had seen her father wrap packages in his shop and carried it with her out into the hall.
She had no time to lose.
Chapter 24
The Visit
Despite the warning on the painting, Avery wanted to find her necklace more than she craved her next breath. She didn’t care about Ilsa’s empty threats—which she suspected they were—she wanted her mother’s necklace back. And she had every reason to suspect Ilsa took it.
And if Ilsa took the necklace, Kate did not. Avery desperately hoped Kate had nothing to do with the missing jewelry.
The weight of the necklace around her neck had been a constant reminder that she belonged to someone. Without it, she felt alone.
She rushed to Ilsa’s room and was pleased to see only one girl inside.
“Excuse me,” she said.
The girl looked up from where she appeared to be writing a letter.
“I’m wondering if you would deliver this book to Kendrick in exchange for a square of chocolate.”
The girl agreed, and once she was gone, Avery snapped into action.
She examined every inch of Ilsa’s space.
She shook the pillow.
She pulled the quilt off Ilsa’s bed.
She felt under the mattress and discovered a nicely carved rosewood box. Hope rose and then fell when she saw that the necklace wasn’t inside. She found something else inside: a stack of formal drawings, edges curling with age.
Conflicted between respecting Ilsa’s property and dying of curiosity, she yielded and flipped through them.
The first showed Ilsa and a group Avery assumed was her family, because Ilsa’s twin brother was there. Edward, as she learned was his name, was rumored to be the best scout and in charge of tracking the king.
The next drawing was of a small stone house.
Avery was about to replace the pages when she caught sight of one of Ilsa in the plain white dress of a country bride and a daisy chain crown—a smile stretching the width of her sun-kissed face. She looked happy.
A new look for her.
Next to her stood a beaming young man Avery could only assume was the groom. She looked closer. Tuck?
She held the drawing closer and tilted it toward the light.
Surely her eyes were deceiving her.
The picture showed Tuck and Ilsa, arm in arm!
No wonder Ilsa was so possessive of Tuck. If she was betrothed to him, she had every right to be jealous. But why keep their relationship a secret?
Her heart sank.
The next morning while many of the girls still slept, Avery stole away to the tiny chapel.
Light streamed through the stained-glass windows and reflected off the gold-gilded walls, almost as if the room itself knew it was time to worship. The high-back pews were filled with twenty or so kids who appeared happy to be there and pleased that she had joined them.
Avery spotted Kate near the front and hurried to sit beside her. The mousy boy with tousled hair and freckles—the one who had given Kate his hard-won grate for the wedding—shuffled to the pulpit and smiled. “Welcome,” he said.
“We voted him in as chaplain at our last service,” Kate whispered. “We meet here every Sunday.”
Avery wondered how many services they had shared.
The chaplain led them in singing:
Praise God from whom all blessings flow!
Praise Him, all creatures here below!
Praise Him above, ye heav’nly host!
Praise Father, Son, and Holy Ghost. Amen.
He then opened his Bible and began to speak.
His voice was as high-pitched as Kate’s and quavered, yet he seemed wiser than his years or scrawny frame suggested.
“In 1 Corinthians 10:31,” he began, “it says, ‘Whether therefore ye eat, or drink, or whatsoever ye do, do all to the glory of God.’ It is our duty as Christians to honor Him. So whether we are scrubbing floors or wearing a crown, we are equal before Him in our m
ission and duty. The good news is that each of us has the ability to accomplish this task.”
“What did you think?” Kate asked when the service drew to a close.
“I think this chapel is a great place for self-reflection.”
Kate laughed. “Silly Avery. We don’t worship to reflect on ourselves. We worship to reflect on God.”
The mood in the castle shifted.
Lunch became a quiet, gloomy event. Whether it was because the wedding was past and the kids no longer had anything to look forward to or because of something else entirely, Avery didn’t know, but the atmosphere was toxic. Gone were the excited voices and the random laughter. Gone were the bartering and bargaining. Gone were the intense games of chess that kept kids up until the wee hours.
In place of their enthusiasm was a somber awareness that they were prisoners and that winter was coming. Avery had a powerful urge to throw open the windows and allow the sunshine and cool air to rush in and do their healing work—but she knew better.
She was feeling the heaviness, too.
After her morning council meeting, she excused herself to the kitchen, as she often did, where she went deep into the pantry and stopped at the grate over the king’s office. Cranking open the slats, she looked down to see Angelina deep in conversation with a half circle of adults who were taking careful notes.
The king was nowhere to be found.
“For the ceremonial procession, I want horses—hundreds of them—and enough flower petals for seven hundred guests. I want music and soldiers and a new crown. I don’t want to wear the crown of my sister.”
Sister? Why did she say “sister”?
“Nothing must stop my coronation!” Angelina continued.
“I must be crowned in front of everyone so it is official. I will not be robbed of my legitimate claim to the crown. Do you all understand?”
The half circle grunted their support, and the meeting concluded.
Everyone, including Angelina, left the room.
Avery waited. She knew what would happen next—
A moment later the door opened again and a scout scurried in, removed a stack of papers from the desk, and replaced it with a stack of mail.
Avery smiled.
The castle was a well-oiled machine being run, at least in part, by the willpower of thirteen-year-olds.
Avery waited until the kids were on the way to their rooms for afternoon rest.
She tapped Tuck on the shoulder. “May I talk to you alone?”
Avery hated the way her heart raced whenever she spoke to him, especially after she had seen the drawing of him and Ilsa. If Tuck was spoken for—even if their courtship had been forged in childhood—she must not fan the flame of her feelings for him.
Tuck motioned for her to follow him to the sitting room just off of the dining room.
They stood in the center of the room.
“We need a new system,” Avery began as she paced and gestured. “Everyone here needs something, and everyone here can offer something. When people feel useless, they become unproductive, and when that happens, chaos ensues.”
Tuck smiled. “You’ve really thought this through, haven’t you?” “Another thing. We should pay the kids for their work. Otherwise, what’s the point of all of this? A workman is worthy of his hire, right? It says so in the Bible.”
Tuck laughed, and Avery stopped pacing.
“Sorry,” Tuck said, holding up his hands and collapsing into a chair. “No problem with anything you’ve said, except we don’t have any money. And what would we be able to do with money anyway? But I admire your passion.”
“We don’t need money. We have something better. Follow me.”
Tuck followed her to the storage room and the collection she and Kate had discovered. She watched carefully to see how he reacted to seeing the rich mahogany furniture, glass bottles, and crates of knickknacks—a lifetime of treasures in one room.
“Incredible,” he said. “How did you know this was in here?”
“I was looking for grates,” she said. “But that doesn’t matter.
What matters is what I’d like to do with this.”
Tuck listened for nearly an hour, adding his own thoughts during those rare instances when Avery stopped to take a breath.
“Thanks for listening,” Avery said.
Tuck smiled. “I’ll listen to you anytime.” Then he winked, and there went her pulse again, racing without her permission.
“So I can start right away?” Avery pressed.
Tuck nodded.
She needed to ask him about the connection between Angelina and Elizabeth.
She also needed to muster the courage to ask him about Ilsa—and soon.
But first she would need to find a logical reason to do so.
Chapter 25
The Envelope
As afternoon gave way to evening and the kids began retiring, Avery rolled up her sleeves and, together with Kate, made a hundred trips between the storage room and the great room where the kids had held their chess tournaments on happier days.
She was determined to bring enthusiasm back to the space.
The two girls lugged boxes of treasures and heavy pieces of furniture, propped beautiful paintings against the walls, and hung jewelry from brass candle stands. They filled tables with the treasures of the castle and collected crates full of glass marbles.
Avery set up the room to look as much like her father’s shop as she could remember, and it made her happier than she thought possible.
When she and Kate were done, they stared wide-eyed at the transformation. The room had become a chamber worthy of a castle.
When the kids saw it the next morning after breakfast—at Tuck’s insistence—Avery watched their expressions transform from weariness to shock.
Whispers rose like the smoke from a thousand chimneys.
Avery waited until they had all assembled in a giant circle before she called for their attention. She realized something as she looked out over the crowd of faces—
Weeks of living in hiding without sun or fresh air had taken their toll.
The kids look pale and tired.
She knew that they, like she, would love to feel the wind on their faces and the grass beneath their feet. Autumn would soon give way to winter if Avery had calculated the days correctly, and she hoped they would all be long gone before the first real snow, but she had no reason to believe that would happen.
Her hope, like theirs she guessed, had been replaced by grim resignation.
She clapped until a hush fell over the crowd, and when she caught sight of Tuck smiling at her from the back, she pressed forward with renewed confidence.
“I was reminded Sunday that whether we are scrubbing floors or wearing a crown, we are responsible to do our work well before God.”
No one looked impressed.
“I also believe we should be rewarded for the work we do.”
That got their attention.
“So beginning today, you will be paid for your effort.”
The kids began to whisper.
How long had it been—if ever—since these kids had been paid for their labor? Many had lived off the village scraps before being brought to the castle. For some, their sole job had been survival. Payment had been going to sleep with a full stomach.
Kate and her circle of seamstresses appeared suddenly, carrying baskets of tiny velvet pouches they had sewn, and they distributed one to each teen. The kids opened them and dumped the contents into their hands.
“Marbles?” someone asked, clearly irritated.
“What are we supposed to do with these?” another called out. “Is this some sort of joke?”
The room erupted.
As quickly as Avery had climbed in their favor, she fell.
Avery tried to call over the rumble to no avail. She picked up the bucket Tuck had used on the night he was made king and turned it over. She stood on it and called over the noise.
“Give me your attention!” she bellowed.
The room stilled.
“What is money but an idea? Money is only copper or paper used to trade for desired goods. What you hold in your hand is just like money. Look around. Kate and I have set up shop. We can pay you in treasures, and there are plenty more where these came from. The scouts have agreed to watch for items downstairs as well. You can exchange marbles for anything you see in this room. All prices can be bartered.”
“And it’s ours to keep?”
“For as long as we’re here.”
She explained how many marbles the kids would earn for each task and how much each item cost, but the kids had stopped listening and were already walking around admiring the merchandise.
A light had returned in the darkness.
That night—exhausted after bartering all day over every imaginable trinket—Avery was excited to see how much better the bunk room looked. Rich furniture had replaced the drab wardrobes, and elaborate pillows and colorful blankets decorated the beds. Girls sat comparing purchases and making trades, and it reminded Avery of the days she used to spend at Godfrey’s.
For years she had watched her father order items, display them in his smudge-free picture window, barter with his customers, and eventually wrap the items and send them off. He had always taken pride in his work, even when Avery had been embarrassed that he was only a shopkeeper.
Avery liked to imagine he would have been pleased with what she had done today.
Though, no doubt, he would have offered suggestions for improvement.
And, no doubt, she would have been agitated that he was right.
She took off her slippers and changed into her nightgown.
She hadn’t gotten much sleep the night before and wanted desperately to stretch out on her mattress and close her eyes. She pulled back the blanket and crawled inside.
As she did every night, she checked her pillow on the remote chance that whoever had stolen her necklace might have returned it.
There was no necklace.
But something else.
In the spot beneath her pillow was a carefully folded parcel. It looked like any of the countless letters Kendrick sorted each afternoon in the dining room. Sometimes he opened them using the flame of a candle to soften the seal so he could reseal the letter before delivering it to the king. It was always folded in thirds like this one.
The Glass Castle Page 9
