Excerpt:
“I think we should go back, Jussy.
This was another
of your very bad ideas, I fear.” Seated in the bow, the young lady who uttered
this caution kept one gloved hand gripping the side of the rowboat and one comforting
a snorting pink snout laid in her lap.
At the stern end, heaving on the oars with all her might,
Justina Penny, lifelong adventurer—but, alas, novice mariner—exhaled her words
in a stream of gusty puffs, like an overworked chimney. “Do be silent, Lucy,
before you wake the entire village!”
Moonlit ripples licked up over the rattling oar hooks as the
small vessel pitched and yawed from the unsteady weight of its cargo and the
violent struggles of its operator, who, despite the fact that plans very rarely
succeeded for her, still refused to be anything other than indignant and
surprised the moment they went awry.
“I believe the boat leaks,” Lucy protested now, in a more
hushed voice. “I am becoming very damp at the hem.”
Although Justina also felt the slow
gathering of water around her toes, seeping in through a worn hole in her
nankeen boots, she was not about to let that little problem stop them. “You do
want to save your pig, don’t you?” she demanded.
“Of course. But sometimes I feel
your methods are more theatrical than they are effective.”
“Do you not think a little
discomfort must be suffered for the cause? After all,” she reminded her friend,
“this was your idea.”
“Not exactly,” whimpered Lucy,
gathering the hem of her fine new cloak out of the puddles slowly forming in
the rowboat. “I said I wished Sir Mortimer Grubbins could be saved, since he
was my favorite and I hand-reared him from a runt. I didn’t suggest we
requisition papa’s boat and row down the stream, in near darkness, to steal him
back from Farmer Rooke before he goes to the…”—she lowered her voice even
further and covered the pig’s ears with her hands—“axe. This scheme was all
yours. As usual.”
Already annoyed with her friend for
attending their secret, late-night mission in that bright red cloak—of all
things—Justina’s temperature rose another notch. The weed-laden oar splashed
down again and she hauled it through the water, moving the boat onward with a
shuddering lurch that was nothing like the smooth, speedy escape she’d
envisioned. “I don’t care for your tone, Lucy. You begin to sound like a
wretched ingrate who cannot bear a trifle inconvenience even to save her
beloved pet from slaughter.”
“I am merely saying there must be other ways—” An owl
hoot startled them both and they jumped several inches on their wooden seats.
Justina
replied in a hasty whisper, “We must work at night to avoid being seen, and
over water we cannot be tracked by hounds.”
“But this
does seem a rather extreme measure. Surely, when I get the pig home again, it’s
not likely I can hide him anywhere. This level of secrecy is perhaps
excessive.”
“Miss
Lucy Bridges, your adventurous spirit is considerably lacking lately, ever
since you turned eighteen, got that fancy new scarlet cloak for your birthday,
and began showing more bosom at every opportunity.”
Lucy’s
lips fell into a sulk, but it was a familiar expression these days. She was
despondent ever since news came that there would be no soldiers encamped nearby
this winter. No doubt the indignity of Sir Mortimer Grubbins’ drool on her new
cloak and wet boots on her feet were simply the straw that broke the camel’s
back.
Suddenly,
a large winged shadow flew over the boat and skimmed the passengers’ heads.
Lucy let out a squeal that must have woken every light sleeper in the village.
Justina finally lost her embattled grip upon the oars and, as they floated away
from her, the stricken vessel drifted aimlessly into another band of weeds.
Here they were apprehended, firmly stalled in the midst of the stream.
“Well,
that’s done it,” Lucy somberly observed.
There was
a warning creak, followed by a splintering crackle. More cold water pooled
quickly into the bottom of the boat. Nestled in the tight space between his companions,
Sir Mortimer Grubbins, the unsuspecting pig, let out a contented grunt.
“We shall be drowned,” said Lucy, as if she’d always
known such a thing would happen. In all likelihood the girl had already picked
out a gown in which to be buried and an imaginary, weak-chinned suitor to lay
flowers on her grave. But they both knew the water in that spot was merely two
feet deep, and what worried Justina far more than drowning was the realization
that they would have to carry Sir Mortimer between them to dry land. As the
fate of the boat proved, he was no little weight.
The pig lifted his snout and grunted
again, probably wondering when it might be dinner time. She patted his back.
“Worry not, Sir Mortimer, we’ll find
somewhere to keep you safe.” She already had the very place in mind: Midwitch
Manor, recently left empty upon the death of its cantankerous owner. There was
a very pleasant orchard there with several small outbuildings, all currently
abandoned to Mother Nature. What better place to hide a pig until other
arrangements were found?
One thing was for sure, she thought
crossly as cold water slowly wicked up her petticoats, no morsel of bacon or
despicable sausage would ever pass her lips again after this.
A quarter of an hour later, using
Lucy’s cloak as a makeshift hammock to carry the noble Grubbins between them,
the two young ladies finally struggled up the bank of the stream, through the
bulrushes to dry land. They were both wet and exhausted, yet so busy arguing
with one another—Lucy still protesting the use of her precious cloak in this
manner—that neither heard the approach of hooves and wheels.
As they emerged from the tall reeds and into the narrow
lane, the four horses charging along it at the same moment were startled and
reared up. Although the coachman took swift evasive action, he was too late to
prevent damage. The coach lurched and jolted.
The lanterns swung in wide arcs across the lane and with
a tremendous creaking and groaning the vehicle finally came to rest in the
opposite ditch.
She heard
the coachman inquire whether his passenger was hurt and a man’s voice
confirmed that he was not. The door of the disabled coach opened and the
apparent owner of the voice looked out. Immediately he must have seen the
strange rescue party struggling with their burden. “What the devil..? You there!”
“Fine
evening, is it not, my good fellow?” Justina shouted jauntily, shuffling along
and straining under the weight of the lounging pig, attempting to ignore the
first fat spots of rain dropping with quickening speed to the earth around
them. If they let the bundle down now, she feared they would never pick it up
again. Lucy had a trying habit of breaking into giggles when she had to lift
anything, which invariably made Justina laugh too. They already fought to
maintain their anger with one another while at the same time holding back their
helpless laughter.
“Are you
quite mad?” the stranger bellowed. “What do you think you’re doing, woman?”
“Isn’t it
obvious?” she sputtered over her shoulder. “We’re carrying a pig.”
Lucy
snorted and then made a small whimper of despair.
A determined, angry stride followed them a short way down
the lane and she hissed at Lucy to pick up speed. If they put Sir Mortimer down
to let him walk, he would meander along, snuffling at the ground, delaying the
journey. They’d have to carry him at least until they were within sight of the
manor house. Fortunately, the
beast did not appear too distressed by his current leisurely repose.
“Someone could have been hurt,” the man bellowed.
“The horses might have trampled you both into the ground.”
“Oh, dear, how dreadful. Sorry,” shouted Justina. “Can’t
stop. I bid you a pleasant evening.”
There was no time for explanations. Rain spat down on her
head now with more velocity and although they couldn’t get much wetter, it
would doubtless make their path much softer and more difficult. And really,
what could be said about something dire that might have happened, but didn’t?
Couldn’t he see she had enough immediate and actual troubles of her own?
Hope you enjoyed the excerpt! ONCE UPON A KISS will be released on June 3rd, 2014 and is available now for pre-order in e-book or paperback, from most book stores!
copyright: Jayne Fresina 2014
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