A Pearl Among Princes

by Coleen Paratore

  Oh, Grace. . . . How to explain . . .

  Mother is silent for a long while.

  How can a mother ever explain what it is to be a mother. The joy of carrying a child inside your very body, then the anguish of her leaving you, replaced with the joy of now holding her wriggling in your arms. And then this precious child is with you every day, day upon day, year upon year, and you try to teach her all of the very best things you know, all the time knowing that she has more to teach you, and then, before you know it, she is birthed painfully from you once again. This child is a woman now, and you must let her go.

  I let Mother’s words sink into me. I try to understand. “But Mother, what of Father. Will he live?”

  “Pearl!” Mackree’s voice tells me he’s near.

  “Mackree,” I call out.

  And then there’s his face flushed from running, framed all around with pine. He steps into the clearing. He comes and touches my arm. “Nurse said you were at home, but I knew you’d be here. Good news, Pearl! Your father awakens.”

  “Talk of nine lives,” Nurse Hartling says to Father the next morning, “why Cook, you are lucky as a cat.”

  Father laughs and Nurse Hartling raises her hand. “No laughing, you must rest.”

  “That’s right, Father,” I say, shaking my finger. “No laughing, no talking, no anything, just rest.”

  “Is that a royal order?” Father whispers to me with a wink.

  “Yes,” I say, “it is.”

  Nurse Hartling leaves. I’m so relieved. This king is a cat indeed. And, in that moment when my heart allows my head to clear, something wonderful begins to dawn upon me.

  “Father!” I exclaim. “Is there a ship for the House of Pine?”

  “Yes indeed, darling. I called for it last summer when I feared my end drew near.”

  “The thirteenth boat . . .” So that explains. “Captain Jessie?”

  Father nods, smiling. “He has always been a good faithful friend of the family. Loyal and true.”

  CHAPTER 29

  The Summersleave Ball

  Cock-a-doodle-do

  The princess lost her shoe!

  Her Highness hopped,

  The fiddler stopped,

  Not knowing what to do.

  I wake before dawn on the morning of the Summersleave Ball. There is no one at the beach. The sky is purple with a rising curtain of shimmering red out along the horizon. I mount the steps of the old bell tower to wait for the sun to announce the new day. The tower now makes me think of a castle. A princess.

  Princess Gracepearl Cole. Who is she?

  Mackree promised to keep Father’s surprising birthday revelation to me a secret. I chose not to tell Lu and Nuff just yet, for as much as I love them, I wanted my mind to be clear so I could hear my own voice talking. Now I understand why Mother is more silent of late. She is teaching me to listen to myself.

  Caw. A gull spreads its wings near. Caw, caw, caw, like a trumpeter heralding the arrival of royalty.

  Yes, yes indeed, the regal sun. The sky brightens and gold rises straight up out of the sea.

  I close my eyes in gratitude. Immediately the faces appear. And while I have never met even one of them, they now feel like family.

  “Soon,” I say. “I am coming.”

  In the afternoon, after my kitchen duties, I gather some daisies, cornflowers, and lilybells and go to meet Lu and Nuff at Nuff’s cottage to prepare for the Summersleave Ball.

  We fix each other’s hair. I weave a crown of wildflowers like I’ve worn each year since we were first old enough to go to the dances. The Muffets always ask why I’m “wearing weeds” on my head. I smile to myself. Wouldn’t the Muffets be surprised if I were to wear my new crown! But, no, I have not yet decided.

  “What are you smiling about, Gracie?” Lu says.

  “So many things,” I say. “So many things.”

  “Aren’t you the mysterious one,” Nuff says.

  Nuff’s mother brings in her basket of face colors, creams, and powders. She lets us each pick a favorite perfume. I choose the one that smells of pine.

  And then, all at once without warning, no bells or bursts of light, I know what I must do. Something my whole self is certain of. “Till tonight!” I say, and rush off.

  When I reach the beach, the gulls welcome me. The sun hangs low in the sky. I find a good driftwood stick and a smooth stretch of sand upon which to write:

  I draw a heart around my words and toss the stick aside, my body trembling with excitement and hope and love.

  I hurry to the cottage, find a sheet of paper, dip the quill pen into ink. I write a note to Mackree, instructing him to go to the beach before sunset, walk to the top of the bell tower, and look down. An important message awaits him. “Then meet me at the Summersleave Ball.”

  I run to Mackree’s stable and stick the note in a prominent place by Ransom’s stall. A place Mackree will most certainly see when he comes to feed the horse. Heart singing like my sea-chimes, I hurry home to dress.

  Lu and Nuff and I walk to the ball together. We see the torches as we approach; the faint sound of music wafts through the air. The Muffets are blocking the entrance steps, having long since claimed the prime spots to be seen by the princes in training. The Muffets don’t speak to us as we pass. They aren’t even speaking with each other, too busy they are straining their necks up like ostriches hoping to be the first to spot the princes and push their dance cards toward them.

  My dance card is in my purse. I filled it in before I left the cottage.

  Every line reads “Mackree.”

  The royals arrive, one here, two there, Sir Blake, Sir Marcus, Sir Hickory Dickory Dock. Sir Humpty rolls in next, festooned in a light blue velvet cape, matching blue ribbons tied throughout his blond curls. Lu, Nuff, and I roll our eyes.

  Lady Jule arrives with Professor Millington and Professor Quill. “Etcetera, etcetera,” Nuff says. Professor Gossimer comes next, chatting with Professor Daterly. Professor Pillage walks alone. Then there’s a squeal from the Muffets section as Sir Richard and Sir Peter make their appearances.

  “Oh, they are gorgeous,” Lu swoons. “Sir Richard looks sweeter than a whole box of sea taffy.”

  Madame Bella strikes the gong. “Let the music begin.”

  First up is a waltz. I watch the door for Mackree.

  Sir Richard approaches me. “Lady Gracepearl, may I have this dance?”

  “No, sir,” I politely decline. I look to the door for Mackree.

  “But I have something important of which to speak to you.”

  “Thank you, Sir Richard.” I look straight into his eyes so there will be no doubt of my sincerity. “You are very kind and I am honored, but I must respectfully decline your . . . offer.” I need not say the word “marriage,” as we both know what I mean. “You are a fine prince, indeed, but my heart is beholden to another.”

  “Ahh,” he says, “the stable boy.”

  “How did you know?” I say.

  “When I came awake after the accident at the tournament and saw all these faces, hovering to know my condition, I asked Sir Peter where you were. He pointed across the field. I saw your face as you cared for Mackree, and your face explained everything.”

  “You are a fine PIT,” I say.

  He laughs. “So that’s what you think of me, the hard old center of a peach?”

  “No,” I say, laughing, “PIT stands for prince in training. My friend Lu made up the name.”

  “Lu,” Sir Richard says. “The sweet girl of the sweet taffies.”

  “Sir Richard,” I say. “Did you ever notice that Lu only leaves those taffies on the pillow of one particular prince?”

  Sir Richard is silent for a moment and then his face lights up with recognition.

  “That’s right,” I say.

  “Go ask her to dance,” I say. “Go now, quickly, before her card fills up. She is a peach, Sir Richard, a prize. You would be lucky to win her affection.”

 
One waltz leads to another. Mackree does not come.

  The princes have clearly mastered the charming art of ballroom dancing. Everyone is dancing but me. The Muffets gasp as Tattlebug makes a surprise appearance, looking very nice indeed. When I had encouraged her to come to the ball, she said she didn’t have a dress. Lu offered a pale yellow gown that she’d outgrown and I brought it to Tattlebug’s cottage yesterday with a pretty crimson shawl and some barrettes for her hair. I walk toward Tattle . . . Nell Tattler to tell her how nice she looks, but then I see Sir Humpty. He is smiling at Nell. She is smiling at him. She walks toward him and then they are dancing. Good for them.

  Sir Peter approaches me. “Will you walk on the terrace with me, Gracepearl? There is something I want to . . .”

  And as with Sir Richard, I graciously explain why I cannot. I see Nuff at the punch bowl nearby us. “Sir Peter,” I say, “do you know my friend Nuff?”

  “Of course,” he says. “I have wanted to speak with her more. But when we first arrived on Miramore, I asked her on a date and she declined. She said her friend Gracepearl liked me. I take it that she was mistaken?”

  Oh, Nuff, dear Nuff, putting my wish for a ship before her very own heart. “I like you very much, Sir Peter,” I say. “But it is another I love. Look how regal, how beautiful Nuff is. And she has humor to match yours. And Sir Peter, if you can keep a secret. She gave you five stars on the beach the first day.”

  “Five out of . . .”

  “Five,” I say, “the top rating of all.”

  “Really?” Sir Peter says, his face breaking into a smile.

  “Yes, Sir Peter, really. Go, dance.”

  A fast waltz begins and I take a seat in the corner looking up at the doorway at the top of the stairs, waiting for Mackree to arrive. One waltz leads to another. I smile watching Lu and Richard and Nuff and Peter and yes, even Nell Tattler and Humpty. What does she see in Humpty, I wonder. But then I see how he looks at her. He seems to find her charming. Maybe even bad eggs deserve another chance.

  The night wears on. It must be nearly midnight. Oh where are you, Mackree? Why have you not come?

  The flower crown itches my head now. The punch tastes warm and putrid. Where is Mackree? I watch the dancers. I watch the entrance. Waiting, waiting.

  What if he never discovered the note? What if he read it and went to the beach, but the tide had washed my question away? Or, oh no, what if he read the question but the answer is . . .

  Then, suddenly, he is there.

  Standing on the top step looking down, Mackree turns his head to the far left side of the room, slowly scanning the dance floor until his face makes its way to me.

  Our eyes lock. He smiles at me. And though the music is loud and our distance far, I can hear his answer.

  “Yes.”

  Yes, yes, yes, yes, yes.

  CHAPTER 30

  Something More than Miramore

  Old King Cole was a merry old soul,

  And a merry old soul was he,

  He called for his pipe,

  And he called for his bowl,

  And he called for his fiddlers three.

  Mackree was late getting to the dance because after he read my message he needed to run home to wash up and have his mother press his holiday clothes. Then he went to the hospital to see Father. To ask for his blessing. A blessing joyfully bestowed.

  When I told Lu and Nuff about my royal lineage, they were not totally shocked.

  “It explains all those dreams,” Nuff said. “And it’s a much more elegant solution than trying to encourage Mackree Byre to build himself a boat!”

  So that’s what Nuff was doing at Mackree’s. I should never have doubted either of them.

  “You always were special,” Lu said.

  “But we are the same,” I say. “This doesn’t change our friendship.”

  “Just think, Gracie,” Lu laughs, still giddy after having danced all night with Sir Richard, “all this time . . . you were a PIT. A princess in training. Imagine that!”

  “Like a fairy tale,” Nuff says, smiling. “A fairy tale come true.”

  But what will the ending be? I hear Mother’s voice in my head.

  My Miramore friends and neighbors, the professors, and most of the PITs gather on the beach to bid me and Mackree safe journey. Captain Jessie Tru has the ship ready. The daughter of the royal one he transported to Miramore long ago now requires passage home to Pineland. “Always at service to the Order,” Captain Jessie says to me.

  “But what of the spiked shoals and the sucking pools of fire,” I ask.

  “There are no such things,” Captain Jessie says. He spits and shakes his head. “Just old stories the Order contrived to keep the working classes here serving the school and the mills.”

  I am outraged. “You mean they were lies? That’s despicable. They had no right to deceive us that way!”

  Captain Jessie shrugs. “Aye. I’ll have you home quicksafe, Princess.”

  At the word “home” my throat tightens in a knot.

  Lu and Nuff wrap their arms around me, cooing words of undying friendship and love. “Enough, enough, before I lose my courage,” I say, one palm on Nuff’s face, the other on Lu’s, shaping two arcs of a heart. “I shall return soon, I promise.”

  I climb up on a rock. “Listen, my friends, everyone. There are no deadly spiked shoals, no sucking fiery whirlpools.”

  Sounds of astonishment rise up.

  “I will prove it,” I say. “I will be the first to sail out past that line of horizon. And may that give you courage to follow if you so choose. This is a new age with new rules. Let your heart rule from this point forward.”

  “You sound like a queen already,” Lu says, her dear face flushed with tears.

  “Be sure that captain remembers the way back,” Nuff says. “We expect you to visit soon.”

  “Do you want to come with us, Nuff?”

  “No, Gracie. Miramore is my place. I have all I want right here.”

  Sir Peter steps forward. He puts his arm around Nuff. “It may be premature,” he says, smiling at Nuff. “But when the ship from Elmland comes for me next month, I think I will send it off filled with fabrics alone. If it pleases Lady Nuff, I may stay on awhile.”

  He looks at Nuff and the smile they share says it all.

  I hug Nuff and whisper, “I’m so happy for you, friend.

  “Lu, what of you,” I say. “Do you want to come with us?”

  “I may soon be off to Ashland for a visit,” she whispers. “Richard wants to show me all the fine restaurants and sweetshops.”

  “Oh, really, Lu?” I hug her. “How wonderful!”

  I have never seen my friend look so happy.

  “But listen,” I say. “Promise me something. Keep your sea taffy recipe to yourself!”

  Lu laughs. “I promise.”

  Mackree lifts the purple trunk onto the boat. In it are some treasures—all the birthday gifts from Mother, a few wind chimes and sea-signs and the frayed old volume of rhymes, the history book, the satchel of papers, a purple box with a crown inside.

  Tattlebug hovers in a corner.

  “Good, Nell, come,” I say. “I have a gift for you.”

  She takes it from my hands. “Your spyglass,” she says, her eyes widening. “But . . .”

  “I figured you might enjoy it, knowing how you like to keep an eye on things.”

  She laughs and hugs me. “Oh, yes, Gracepearl, thank you.” She puts the spyglass to her eye and seeks out Sir Humpty in the crowd.

  “Here,” Nora Baker says to me. She hands me a basket filled with food for our trip and a sticky stack of papers with a slip of kitchen twine tied round.

  Recipes, full of misspelled words, and full of love too.

  “Someday you might wanna learn to cook,” she says.

  Nora looks at Captain Jessie and smiles. He hugs her awkwardly. “You’re a good woman, Nora,” he says.

  “Get on there,” she says, shooing him
off. There are tears in her eyes.

  I remember the night of the Welcome Banquet when I told her a mysterious thirteenth ship had arrived.

  “You knew, Nora. Didn’t you? All along.”

  “Yes.” She nods.

  “Why did you never say anything?”

  “’Twasn’t my place,” she says. “I always knew my place. I served your mother and father.”

  “Yes you did, Nora. So very well. And you taught me much indeed. Thank you,” I say, hugging her. “I will miss you.”

  She pulls back. “Take good care of her, ya hear me,” she says to Mackree, her chin thrust up to emphasize her words and to also keep the tears from slipping out.

  Oh, Mother, I call out silently. I don’t know if I can . . .

  Yes you can, Gracepearl, my girl. Mother’s voice is rock solid. The world is your oyster. You’re a pearl full of grace. You have everything you need.

  “No good-byes,” Father says.

  “I love you,” I say, trying to be brave. What if his heart takes him from me before I can return?

  “Send word when you are settled,” Father says.

  We hug for what seems like forever, until I feel Mackree’s hand touch mine.

  “Ready, Pearl?” Mackree says.

  I find harbor in his eyes, those deep violet pools, and I know that indeed I am.

  Captain Jessie pulls up anchor. My eyes sweep every face, the flowers, the trees, the gull in the tower, every inch of Miramore. I lock them safe in the trunk of my memory.

  Waves of sadness crash against waves of joy, waves of excitement topple waves of fear.

  “Pearl,” Mackree says.

  “My heart,” I say.

  He hugs me, I kiss him, and the ship sets sail as our friends cast good luck flowers, whistles, and cheers from the shore. Little Leem and Brine skip stones our way, one so far it hits the hull. I raise my fist to congratulate them.

  Some who play at the forest dances have brought their fiddles for the occasion.