“You simply must tell us all about it,” said Prossy, sitting on the next bed, her face alight with excitement.
“Are they marvelous? Do they have a summer house?” Prissy, who read a lot of books about orphans coming into riches, clutched her chest and closed her eyes. “Do they sail?”
“I—um. Actually, I’m going into quarantine,” Tess said. Prissy immediately clapped one hand over her mouth and nose, rather overdramatically, while Prossy recoiled a bit, looking disgusted.
“What do you have?” she asked, her face screwing up even further.
Tess drew a blank. Miss Ackerbee forgot to tell me what my fake disease is, she thought. Typical. “I—um. I don’t think it’s too contagious.”
“Still,” said Prissy, her words muffled by her fingers. “If they’re sending you away, it must be fairly serious.”
Tess sighed. “If you were going to catch it, you’d have caught it by now.”
Prissy looked suspicious, but she dropped her hand. “Where are you going?” she asked. “Is it far away?” Tess wondered if there was a hopeful note in her voice.
“No idea,” she answered truthfully. “I hope he’ll tell me when he gets here.”
“Who?” Prossy said, frowning at Tess.
“Mr. Cleat,” Tess said, wishing she could bite the words back as soon as they left her mouth. “I mean—I think that’s his name.”
“Is he a doctor?” Prissy asked.
“I hope not,” Tess said fervently.
“Is he some ancient warty beast?” asked Prossy with a shudder.
“Ooh! Maybe he’ll keep you locked in a tower,” said Prissy, getting lost in the drama of the moment. “And you’ll have to fashion tiny paper birds with things like Help me! written on them in your best calligraphy, and send them out the window, hoping some handsome passing prince will find them and come to rescue you.”
“You do talk such nonsense, Priss,” said Prossy. “Where would she get paper, locked in a tower?” Prissy scowled at her.
“Nobody is getting locked anywhere,” said Tess, hoping she was right about that part. “And if I do get locked in a tower, I’ll find my own way out, thank you very much.”
“You’re no fun, either of you,” grumbled Prissy.
“Anyway,” Prossy said, rolling her eyes. “How long will you be away for?”
“I’m not sure,” Tess replied, settling the blanket on her lap. The object was buried within it, and Tess made sure it wasn’t visible. She liked Prissy and Prossy, but not that much.
Prissy wrinkled her nose as she stared at Violet. “And is he letting you bring that?” she said.
“Yes,” Tess answered in an incredulous tone. “At least, I’m bringing her, no matter what he says.”
“Mm,” said Prossy, tossing her thick plait over one shoulder. She crossed her legs, rotating one foot impatiently. “What about all your tubes and bottles and springs and things?”
“My equipment,” Tess answered, “is also coming. I’m this close to a breakthrough.” Prissy simply raised her eyebrows at that.
All three of them jumped as the door to the dorm burst open again and a third-floor girl stuck her head into the room. “There’s a man outside!” she called breathlessly. “And you should see his car!”
Tess felt like someone had doused her in a bucket of icy water. He’s here.
Prossy went to the nearest window and peered out through it; Prissy joined her a heartbeat later. They looked out at Mr. Cleat and then they looked at one another.
“I think this calls for our best dresses,” Prissy said, and Prossy nodded. They pulled themselves away from the window and began to rummage through their wardrobes. Tess ignored them and walked slowly to the window herself, unsure even as she looked out whether she wanted to see.
A man stood beside a long, sleek black car. He held his hat in his hands as he squinted up at the façade of Ackerbee’s Home for Lost and Foundlings. He had a thin mustache, hair slicked back with pomade and a smart suit. He was younger than Tess had expected. As she watched, he approached the house, eventually vanishing from sight.
“Smarmy, isn’t he?” came a voice at her shoulder. Tess didn’t need to turn to know it was Wilf.
“Like a crocodile wearing a human,” Tess agreed.
“You’re not actually going to go, are you?”
Tess looked at her friend. She didn’t even have to ask; of course Rebecca would have told her the truth. Wilf was as reliable as a rock and she never broke her word. “I have to,” she replied, and Wilf’s only answer was to frown.
Tess threw a glance at Prissy and Prossy; they were knee-deep in hand-me-down lemon-yellow organza, the dresses dotted with the stitches of their many previous owners, and were paying her and Wilf no heed. Then Tess looked at Wilf. “Come here,” she whispered, walking back to her bed. She flipped up the blanket to reveal the object, and Wilf stood staring at it for a long moment.
“What is it?” Wilf asked.
Tess shrugged. “I don’t know yet,” she said. “But I know it might help me find out who I am. Where I came from.”
“But you know who you are,” Wilf protested. “And who cares where you came from?”
Tess deflated. “It’s all right for you,” she said. “You know all that stuff. I don’t. I never have and it leaves a hole, you know? It makes me feel like I don’t belong anywhere.”
“Of course you belong. It’s idiotic to think that you don’t,” Wilf scoffed.
Tess took a deep breath, an ache settling inside her chest. “You don’t understand,” she said, folding the blanket back over the small round object.
“What do you mean?” Wilf’s voice was as miserable as her expression. “How can you say I don’t understand?”
Tess bit her lip, flooded with remorse. “Forget I said it,” she replied.
“No, it’s all right,” Wilf said, wrapping her hurt up inside herself. “Don’t worry about it. You just go off and have a jolly old time with your new dad. We’ll be fine here without you.”
“Wilf, please,” Tess began, throwing her hands in the air, but the other girl turned on her heel and strode out of the room. Prissy and Prossy watched her go, their eyes round.
“Trouble in paradise?” Prissy asked.
“Oh, give it a rest,” Tess muttered, turning back to her suitcase. She shoved everything on her bed into it haphazardly and then had second thoughts. She upturned the suitcase, retrieved the object and put it in her pocket, then repacked the suitcase, all through a haze of angry tears.
“Tess?” came a quiet voice. She turned, a fresh apology to Wilf on her lips, but saw Rebecca in the doorway instead. The teacher’s pale face was like a curl of dough, and she looked as though she’d received a lifetime’s worth of bad news all at once. “Could you come down to Miss Ackerbee’s parlor, please. Quick as you can.”
Tess picked up her case and took a step or two into the middle of the floor, while Prissy and Prossy stood awkwardly beside their beds, wearing their best and second-best dresses, respectively. Rebecca glanced at them, which turned into a full-on glare, and the girls immediately began to pull off the fancy taffeta and silk, looking embarrassed.
“He’s here?” Tess said, and Rebecca looked at her.
“Ahead of schedule, yes,” she answered, holding out a hand. “And he’s not in the mood to wait.” Tess walked to Rebecca and took her hand, gripping her suitcase tightly with the other.
“We’ll miss you, you odd little creature,” Prossy said in her making-the-best-of-it voice.
Tess looked at her and tried to smile. “Hope you get a nice new dorm-mate.”
“One without livestock would be my preference,” Prissy muttered. “Not that there’s anything wrong with living with a tarantula as such,” she added as Violet gave her a reproachful stare from her per
ch atop Tess’s head.
Rebecca squeezed Tess’s hand. “Come on now,” she urged gently. Prissy and Prossy stood at the end of their beds, looking like they didn’t know what to do with their hands. Tess sucked hard on her lower lip, blinking up at them.
“See you later,” she said, and then she was gone.
Mr. Cleat got to his feet as Tess entered the room. He wore a dove-gray three-piece suit, very shiny shoes and a grin that seemed rather too pleased with itself for Tess’s liking. His eyes were very blue, and even from all the way across the room, they seemed sharp and piercing, like daggers ready to be thrown.
“So here she is,” he said. “It’s a pleasure, Tess.”
“Tess, I’d like you to meet Mr. Cleat,” Miss Ackerbee said, rising from her own chair and walking around her desk. Tess stood in the middle of the floor, clutching her suitcase to her front.
“Say hello, Tess,” Rebecca muttered, and the sound of her voice snapped Tess out of her daydream.
“Oh, that’s all right!” Mr. Cleat said, laughing too loudly. “It’s all a bit much, I expect, learning you’re not alone in the world anymore. That you have family. I can only imagine how it feels.”
“Tess has always had a family,” Miss Ackerbee responded to nobody in particular, her voice crisp.
Mr. Cleat turned to her and inclined his head politely. “Quite so. No offense intended, Miss Ackerbee. I trust, however, that you appreciate the distinction I’m trying to make.”
Miss Ackerbee gave no reply and didn’t so much as glance in Mr. Cleat’s direction. “Tess, I told you earlier today that the choice to leave was yours.” She kept her steady gaze on Tess’s panicked one. “You will always have a home here. But neither I nor Miss Whipstead”—Tess glanced at Rebecca, who was bristling a bit at the use of her proper name—“has ever stood in the way of any girl who wished to leave us, for any reason. I will not stand in yours, either.”
Miss Ackerbee paused, blinking hard. “You’ve been with us practically since the day you were born, Tess. I love all my charges equally, but you—well. Rebecca and I have raised you like our own daughter. Nonetheless, your wishes for your future will be respected.” She cut a glare at Mr. Cleat. “By all the adults present, I trust.”
Tess’s mouth fell open as she struggled to find the words to reply.
“I might remind everyone that I have legal papers here, to bolster my claim to Tess,” Mr. Cleat interjected. He gestured to a slim folder sitting on Miss Ackerbee’s desk. “It’s not a case of allowing the child to make her own choices so much as ensuring she lives in the correct and most appropriate place for her. Which is, I’m sure we’ll all agree, with a family member.”
“The most appropriate place for Tess is here,” Rebecca muttered.
Tess looked at Mr. Cleat. His hair shone in the daylight coming through Miss Ackerbee’s tall windows, and she could hear the faint sounds of the city rolling past outside. The view from those windows was all that Tess had ever known: the wide River Plura flowing past Ackerbee’s front door, spanned by the mighty Carlisle Bridge, which led straight to the heart of the city of Hurdleford, and the busy quays along the riverside that buzzed with trade and crowds and familiar sights and sounds. She couldn’t imagine looking out of a window and seeing something else, a totally different world with unfamiliar things and people in it.
“I want to stay,” she said, her heart thudding in her chest at the thought of what that decision meant and everything she was losing as a result. It didn’t feel good but it felt right, and Tess tried to quieten her conscience. Miss Ackerbee’s face relaxed into a smile, the lines around her dark eyes softening as she gazed at Tess steadily through the lenses of her gold-rimmed spectacles.
“Well, that’s that. We’ll make the appropriate arrangements and I’m sure Mr. Cleat—”
“Mr. Cleat is going nowhere,” the stranger in the room retorted. “Not without the child, at least.”
“Sir, you heard Tess’s wishes,” Miss Ackerbee replied in a voice like flint.
“And, madam, you have seen the contents of this folder.” He tapped it with one long finger. “Tess is the heir of my great-great-uncle-in-law, late of Hurdleford. I am her only living relative, albeit a distant one, and I am the executor of the deceased gentleman’s estate. My claim”—he leaned across the desk—“outweighs yours.”
“I have never claimed a child in my life,” Miss Ackerbee said, her arms clasped at her waist like a barrier. “Children are not parcels, Mr. Cleat, nor objects to be traded. For me, their wishes about their own lives are paramount.”
Mr. Cleat’s mouth twisted. “Lucky for those of us who set our stock in the law, then, that people like you are not in charge of things.”
“Enough of this,” Rebecca snapped. “Tess has made her feelings clear and that’s the end of the matter. If you want to discuss a plan for future visits, Mr. Cleat, I’m sure we can accommodate you, but if not, I’m going to have to ask you to leave.”
Mr. Cleat’s nostrils flared as he turned to the folder on Miss Ackerbee’s table. He began to flip through it. “My great-great-uncle’s will,” he declared, pointing to a document, “which clearly sets out his relationship to Tess, and which creates, in law, a cast-iron connection between my family and hers. And any family connection invalidates her right to stay here.” He looked around, an air of faint disgust on his face as he took in the slightly shabby room. “As fine an establishment as it is, Tess’s presence here robs a deserving orphan of her place beneath your roof. It’s hardly fair, is it?”
“Can’t you at least wait until my own lawyers can look over your paperwork?” Miss Ackerbee said. “A week at most. That’s all I ask.”
Mr. Cleat slapped the folder shut. “I’m afraid not, Miss Ackerbee,” he said. “The nature of my business is such that I can’t predict when I’m going to be out of the country or called away from the city. So it’s best if I bring Tess home now, and we can discuss any loose ends at a later date.”
Tess’s heart began to race. “But I am home,” she said, squeezing hard on the handle of her suitcase.
Mr. Cleat walked toward Tess and then got down on one knee so that his face was almost level with hers. He pressed his thin lips together into a short-lived smile. “I promise you, you’ll be happy in this new life I’m offering. This inheritance makes you rather a well-off girl—or at least it will, when you’re older. Until then, I’m to be your guardian. You can come and visit your friends here whenever you want.” He paused, studying Tess carefully with his sharp blue eyes. “Give me a chance.”
Violet chose her moment to shift position on top of Tess’s head and Mr. Cleat leaned back quickly, his eyes widening. “Settle down, girl,” Tess whispered, reaching up to her.
“Whatever’s that?” Mr. Cleat said, staring at Violet.
“Violet comes with me. Wherever I go, she comes too,” Tess said.
Mr. Cleat forced himself to smile. “Well then. I welcome both of you.”
“Tess,” Miss Ackerbee said, her voice low. “There’s no need—”
“Ah, but there’s one more thing in here I haven’t yet shown you,” Mr. Cleat interrupted, getting to his feet. He picked up the folder again and flicked to a different document. “A court order, Miss Ackerbee. One declaring me Tess’s legal guardian and your status over her null and void. After all,” he continued triumphantly, “you can’t prove the circumstances of Tess’s arrival here. I wonder if a thorough investigation into all your charges is in order? Just to be on the safe side, of course.” Tess saw Miss Ackerbee’s face crumple.
“What does that mean?” Tess asked, willing her housemistress to make things right.
“It means,” Miss Ackerbee replied, her eyes shiny with fresh tears, “that we have to let you go or risk losing all our girls while a baseless examination of our methods takes place.”
Tess swallowed hard. Violet, settled in the nest she habitually made in Tess’s hair, thrumming as gently as a plucked string, but not even that could make Tess feel better.
“There has to be something we can do,” Rebecca said, stepping forward to put her hands on Tess’s shoulders.
“Have your people draw up a legal challenge,” Mr. Cleat said, his voice cool. He closed the folder of documents and slipped it under his arm. “But in the meantime, Tess is coming with me.”
Miss Ackerbee met Tess’s eye. Her stricken expression made Tess feel like she was shattering into pieces right here in the room in which she’d learned, only a couple of hours before, that everything she’d ever thought about herself had been wrong.
As bad as that had been, this was infinitely worse.
The girls of Ackerbee’s lined the hallway as Tess walked toward the open front door. They hung through the banisters, calling their goodbyes; they spilled out of the door and onto the street, causing curious passersby to stop and stare. Tess tried to hold as many hands and catch as many blown kisses as she could, and she told herself that no matter what, she would not cry.
She almost managed it.
Just as she was setting foot outside the door, on the threshold of the world she’d always known and a world she couldn’t imagine, someone shouted her name. She turned just in time for Wilf to barrel into her.
“What will I do without you?” Wilf whispered into her ear.
“I’ll be back, goosie,” Tess told her. “I promise.”
“You can’t promise that,” Wilf said.
“I just did.”
“But you might forget me, what with your new life and all.” Wilf flicked away a tear.
“I could never forget you, Wilf,” Tess said. “You’re too annoying,” she added after a beat.
They released one another and Wilf laughed, rubbing her runny nose with the back of her hand. Then her laughter faded. “I’ll miss you. And Vi. You’ll write, won’t you?”
“Every day, and twice on Sundays,” Tess replied. “Promise.”
The Starspun Web Page 3
