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Chapter 7
Change in the Wind
Many days and weeks passed in which nothing particular happened—at least, nothing that Tabitha’s mother might have wished. In fact, Tabitha was able to run wilder here than she ever had at home. She and John could often be found at the millpond skipping stones (Tabitha’s record was ten, John’s was seven, although he had to teach her how to skip them), or climbing the small cluster of trees at the north end of her lands, or passing the time of day with the shepherds that wandered by.
But every day time was set aside for Tabitha to teach John whatever she deemed necessary. They were making great use of Great-Aunt Hilsida’s much neglected library, and Tabitha proved just as stern a teacher as any straitlaced prim schoolmistress or starched upright schoolmaster.
It didn’t take too long for John to master his letters, and then basic arithmetic, before Tabitha insisted on teaching him French and German. John was less eager to learn these latter lessons than the former, (a fellow has to appear reluctant sometimes, even if it’s just for forms sake) but if he wished to keep up with Tabitha and understand anything she said (she reverted to her old habit of speaking German before lunch and French afterwards), he had to learn, so learn he did.
It is perhaps fortunate that John was actually an intelligent sort, or their friendship would have been sorely taxed with all of what Tabitha insisted was ‘necessary.’
Once, for his own amusement, John compiled a mental list of all that Tabitha deemed ‘necessary.’ Speaking and reading several languages was necessary. Complex math was necessary. Memorizing the flora and fauna of obscure far away continents was necessary. Building replicas of ancient mechanical devices was necessary (the catapult was actually a great success—if one ignored the broken window on the upper story of the south side of the house). Manners were necessary. Proper grammar was necessary. Hygiene was necessary.
Being Tabitha’s friend was a lot of work.
And even though John often found himself unable to fall asleep because of all the numbers or declensions dancing through his head, he couldn’t imagine life getting any better than this.
Every so often Tabitha would search the house for evidence of her Great-Aunt Hilsida’s laudanum storage, but she was never successful in discovering it. So many rooms were locked and lacking the means to open them, Tabitha was forced to leave them alone (asking Roger the Butler to open them was unthinkable, so Tabitha didn’t. Think of it, that is).
Mention must be made of Wulafric, who was growing larger every day and now was pulled up into the loft in a much larger bucket than before. He followed Tabitha and John on all their romps, running circles around them while they raced from one field to another, and he barked happily at them when they climbed trees and threw sticks for him to fetch. It was perhaps the happiest time in Tabitha’s memory, and John’s too. They rarely got into serious trouble, for few things were forbidden to them that they wanted to do, and as long as John was able to complete his admittedly few duties as a stable boy, his days were as free as anyone could like. The other servants just smiled at them and made sure both of them got enough to eat, and that they never stayed out after dark. Not that they needed reminding, for while most children might be frightened of unknown ghosts and beasts that lurk in outdoor shadows, there was a real enough terror to be afraid of that came out after dark and could often be heard shouting and screaming imprecations long after midnight. On many occasions Tabitha slept in John’s loft rather than enter the house when she might be roaming.
It was on one of their daily romps that Tabitha heard the idea that would change the course of not only her life, but possibly the entire world. (you may think that sounds a trifle over-dramatic, but then, we are only at the very beginning of our story). The fault (or shall we say responsibility) can be laid at the feet of one of the shepherds, as it was he who gave Tabitha the idea. He meant no harm to come by it, certainly, but when Tabitha was given an idea, she would often take it in surprising directions that could not be predicted.
Tabitha and John were having a chat with Herbert (a rather short man with a thick black beard) who often was found in the northern pasture with his flock of thirty-five sheep and his two sheep dogs. Both dogs were far too busy and important to have anything to do with Wulafric, so he was sulking by Tabitha’s heels.
“Don’t take it to heart, tha’ young pup,” Herbert consoled him. “Ma Rufus and Heartsease don’t think o’ much else when th’ sheep are out.” Wulafric did not look cheered up by this revelation and instead lay his head on his paws and sighed. Herbert laughed. “Never saw a dog so downhearted! Well, tha’s no sheep dog, tha’s surely not.”
“But what do you think he is?” John asked. It was a favorite topic of discussion as everyone had heard the story of how Tabitha came to find him, but no one had any clue as to how he might turn out.
Herbert leaned on his walking stick and squinted in concentration. “Best way to see how big a dog’ll grow is to look at th’ paws. Now, he had big paws when he was just an armful, and he’s grown a couple stone since then, an’ I don’t think he’s about to stop any time soon.”
“He’ll be very big, then?” asked Tabitha.
“Oh, aye. Not many’ll grow that large. Tha’ might have a wolfhound, tha’ might.”
“A real wolfhound?” Tabitha was impressed. She had read stories about the early history of the land and the role that wolfhounds had played.
“Aye. Might be.” That was all Herbert would say on the subject, save for one thing. “Tha’ might see what sort o’ tracker he is. Th’ old ones had to hunt wolves, they did.”
“Wolves? But there aren’t any wolves anymore.” John said scoffingly.
“Tha’s correct, young ‘un. An’ why do you think that is?” Herbert pointed his stick at Wulafric. “He and his got rid of them for us. Here, Rufus! Heartsease!” And Herbert was off tending to his flock again.
“Glory, Tabitha. Do you think Wulafric could kill a wolf?”
They looked at Wulafric who was lying on his back begging for a belly rub.
“Of course he could,” Tabitha said staunchly. “He’d be the best wolf-killer that ever lived.”
John thought it best to agree.
Of course Tabitha couldn’t just leave it at that: they needed to try and see if he was any good at tracking. Never long without a plan, Tabitha came up with several experiments in order to gain an understanding of Wulafric’s skill. Which turned out to be rather enormous.
Experiment one consisted of Tabitha, John, and Wulafric going to the middle of an empty field where Tabitha told Wulafric to sit, whereupon John went behind Wulafric and then proceed to run until he was out of sight after several zigzags and changes of direction. When Tabitha asked Wulafric to find John, he unerringly found the correct path and followed it to the millpond where they all celebrated by going for a swim.
Experiment two was where Tabitha decided to try Wulafric’s mettle. Wulafric knew John rather well and it could be conceived that it wasn’t too difficult for him to find someone whose scent was familiar, but what about a scent he wasn’t familiar with? Tabitha and Jack went to a nearby farm and asked the housewife for a shirt of her husband’s that was unwashed ‘for a grand experiment,’ as Tabitha put it. The housewife didn’t know what to make of the pair of them (not counting the dog) but was willing enough to lend them a shirt ‘so longs you bring it back prompt.’
Tabitha gave the shirt to Wulafric to sniff, and then tried to indicate that he should find the owner of it. It took a few tries for Wulafric to understand that he was supposed to do something other than sniff the shirt again, but once he sniffed around the ground and sensed his person’s approval, it became obvious that he was to search out the owner of that scent. He took off at a joyous run, and though his legs were not yet full grown, it was a puffing Tabitha and a gasping John that gave chase. The man was found (exactly where his wife had suspected) at the village tavern sipping an ale. There was a bad moment where Wulafric tried to burst through the door of the tavern, but the door proved too strong for him and he bounced off. (It was a mistake he never made again, always waiting afterward for someone to open a door for him—unless it was an easy latch door that he could manipulate with his mouth and open himself—as he never wished to repeat the experience of running full-tilt into a solid oak door). Tabitha and John opened the door for him and as he ran up to the man and barked several times, and they began to rejoice in Wulafric’s skill, jumping around and shouting for joy until the tavern-keeper told them to go raise a racket elsewhere. The man whose shirt they carried was entirely confused, but they were too excited for explanations and immediately ran back to the farmhouse to return the shirt to the man’s wife.
They celebrated that night with jam tarts they convinced the cook to make, telling the story again and again how Wulafric ran into the tavern door, and then when they had opened it, ran straight to the man who fell off his stool under the bouncing happiness of the dog. The servants were all pleased to hear the story again and again, but after the fifth time even those who had still laughed heartily at the third retelling were finding it a bit much. But the children were happy enough to climb into the loft and make up stories for each other about how famous Wulafric would make them, and what exotic things his nose would find.
“He could sniff out rubies and gems in the earth!” said John.
“He could find enemy scouts in battle!” was Tabitha’s slightly more practical (sort of) reply.
“He could track a flying eagle, he’s such a great tracker!”
“Over mountains and rivers he’d never lose the trace!”
And so on and so on they went, extolling Wulafric’s as yet untapped virtues, remembering every so often to scratch his belly and ruffle his ears. (Wulafric loved being petted, but right now he would settle for one of those jam tarts, ah, too late. The last was gone).
It was John who wondered aloud whether there was anything indoors that Wulafric could track, just to make a change from the outdoors. That would mean going inside the house: Tabitha was reluctant to put this to the test, having no desire to let her anywhere near Wulafric again, but then, she was hardly ever moving about in the mornings. And although it had been quite some time since she last thought of it, it didn’t take too long for Tabitha to recall that she had promised herself that she would find her store of laudanum and destroy it. Visions of glory danced through her head, images of hundreds of people thanking her for freeing the land of such a terror, images of her parents begging her to come back—her father, begging her to come back, begging and apologizing for having ever sent her away.
Tabitha was still a child, understand—although the assumed promise of others’ praise is enough to motivate even level-headed adults to heights of strangeness undreamed of. Luis of Spain once believed that if he could learn to talk to wolves, he could tell them to leave the local flocks and herds alone, and everyone would praise his name and people from far away lands would come and seek to learn from him. To that end, he could be found most nights on the edges of fields and up in the branches of trees, trying to get a glimpse of the awesome predator and hear his voice. One day, when he thought himself assured and knowledgeable of the ways of wolves, he walked into the forest to commune with his newfound brothers. His joy was perhaps a trifle short lived. The wolves thought their newfound brother tasted quite good, and that was the end of Luis’ grand dreams.
“John,” Tabitha said, “What if we got Wulafric to track down her laudanum store? If she didn’t have it any longer, all the servants could go back to living in the house, and it would be much better for everyone. What do you think?”
When Tabitha said, ‘what do you think,’ it was less ‘what do you think’ than ‘please praise my brilliant idea so that we can go through with it.’ John was perhaps not so skilled at reading the nuances in Tabitha’s voice as she was at putting them in, so he replied,
“You mean find it and get rid of it? All of it?”
“Well of course all of it. No reason to leave just a little if we get rid of the rest.”
“I don’t know, Tabitha. She made Roger swear to keep it on hand at all times—“
“Roger promised, not you. He shouldn’t have promised anyway, if he knew what it did to her, and the rest of you. He promised, but we didn’t, so we can do what we like. Don’t you want to live in the house again?”
John had never really lived in the house to begin with, and was not very moved by this argument.
“Don’t you want her to stop roaming around at night and destroying everything she finds and scaring everyone half to death?”
This made more sense to him, having almost been caught on several occasions when she took it into her head to roam near the stables (he had lost a very nice jacket to her gripping hands in order to escape into the stables and shut the door. He had found the jacket the next morning torn to shreds; completely unsalvageable). But even so, he wasn’t convinced. Tabitha, getting desperate, pulled out the best argument she had.
“Don’t you want all the servants to be able to live in the house again, to have proper beds and proper rooms, and for Roger to be able to sleep a full night knowing she is safe and well? He tries so hard to keep her safe, and he’ll be so grateful to us for helping him do it.”
This was the hardest idea for John to ignore, because he was a very loyal boy, and the thought of the other servants and Roger finally able to act and live like the proper servants he knew them to be was the clincher of it all. What he wouldn’t do for himself he was willing to risk for their sakes. He nodded to Tabitha.
“For them. I’ll help you find it, and destroy it, for all of them.”
Tabitha nodded with great intent. “All right then. Here’s what we need to do…” The plan was laid out, and John was slightly disappointed with its simplicity. He personally thought that there ought to be more skulking about and hiding behind tapestries, like in the stories, but then, the stories would have them going in at night, and there was no chance of that. He bowed his head to Tabitha’s experience at plan making and agreed that the next two days would see it begun and ended.
Part one of the plan consisted in getting Wulafric a scent to follow, which meant getting ahold of her teacup, preferably with a little tea still in the bottom. The problem was, when she was finished drinking it, there was no chance of anyone being in the house but Roger the Butler, and he certainly wouldn’t get it for them. Tabitha assumed (although she knew a truly great plan shouldn’t have assumptions, there was no one she could ask, and if Tabitha knew one thing, it was that plans went off much smoother when adults were not involved with them) that the cup sat in her drawing room until the next morning when it was taken to the kitchens to be washed—that is, if she didn’t smash it, as she did frequently. Regular shipments of teacups came every month to replace those that were damaged. Roger the Butler had resigned himself to not having a full set that matched, as cheap teacups always came in different patterns each month, and currently the house contained three white cups with blue flowers, three white cups with pink flowers and green vines, two blue and gold edged cups, and one red cup. The shipment was due next week, whereupon they would get thirty more teacups of whatever color and design. It had occurred to Roger the Butler that perhaps if he ordered more teacups than necessary, and then kept a full set somewhere safe, they would have a full set to present to visitors. And then he recalled that the last time they had visitors was five years ago when a family had found themselves stranded only a mile from the house and had begged a place to stay overnight while a new carriage was fetched. The stories of their horrible experience were still circulating the country, and it was highly unlikely anyone in the future would make a similar mistake, so Roger the Butler tried not to mind about the teacups.
You might think it odd that Roger the Butler, unshaven and shabby and dedicated master of the sway-step, should care about teacups and the state of Mistress Hilsida’s estate, but he was not always thus, just as Mistress Hilsida and her estate were not always thus. As they had waned, so had he, until they were hardly distinguishable. But once upon a time—so very long ago now—he had been a proper Butler in a proper house, and even now the instincts that belong to all Butlers had not left him completely, even if they were too weak and tired to care about anything big, they still niggled about the smallest of things.
The plan was to intercept the teacup before it made it to the kitchen. To that end, Tabitha, John, and Wulafric woke up extra early to sneak into the house before the rest of the servants came to do their daily business.
Taking great care, the threesome walked quietly down the long front hall that led to her drawing room, all of them peering into the open doors on either side of them, hoping not to catch a glimpse of her sleeping on a couch or spread out on the floor (apparently, Great-Aunt Hilsida did not always make it to her bedroom to sleep, and had been found asleep in many strange places, up to and including back staircases and inside armoires). They didn’t catch sight or sound of her, to both their great relief and growing anxiety. For if she wasn’t in any room that they saw, she might—might—still be in the drawing room, complicating Tabitha’s plan exceedingly, although she had an idea of what to do if that was the case, she sincerely hoped it wasn’t necessary. (Tabitha believed in being prepared for all circumstances. She had plans for what to do if another country invaded, plans for what to do if the ocean rose up and covered the earth again, and she even had plans for how to escape after being kidnapped by Russians, although that one involved five novels of dubious quality and a tuning fork)
They arrived at the door of the drawing room. It was shut. John was hanging back at this point, playing lookout to Tabitha’s scout, as per the plan. Wulafric was standing next to Tabitha, panting lightly in a happy way (sneaking around was great fun, after all), as Tabitha had expected. She reached out a hand and laid it gently on the door handle, turning it ever so slowly and wincing at its every creak (must remember next time to bring oil) until the door cracked open. Tabitha put her eye to the crack and did her best to examine the room.
It was one of the cleaner rooms in the house despite the amount of time she usually spent in it, precisely because she spent so much time in it, as Roger the Butler insisted that it be cleaned each day, along with her bedroom.
Not seeing anything alarming, but still conscious of the risk of her being somewhere in there, Tabitha slowly opened the door wide enough for her to enter. She turned back to look at John and motioned that he keep watching for anyone, and then motioned to Wulafric that he was to sit and not follow her into the room. He seemed inclined to argue, but she was very firm in insisting upon it.
Tabitha entered the drawing room. Sun was streaming fully through the windows, as the curtains had been torn down recently and not yet replaced. Various bits of porcelain crockery were shattered on the floor and Tabitha nearly despaired at the thought that she might have destroyed her teacup last night, but then she caught sight of it sitting on the low wooden table next to the chair she had been sitting in the first time Tabitha had seen her. Growing more nervous Tabitha quickly crossed to the chair and took the teacup in her hands, rejoicing inwardly that there was a small amount left on the bottom—just a mouthful, and horribly cold, but then, no one was going to drink it.
The sound of a muffled snort caused Tabitha to freeze. Silence filled the room again, and Tabitha hoped she had imagined it, but then it happened again, and it sounded like it was coming from directly behind her chair. Tabitha leaned to one side, catching sight of what had first appeared to be torn draperies, and what was actually Great-Aunt Hilsida curled up asleep on the floor. But she seemed to be waking up, and the last thing Tabitha wanted right then was for her to wake up and discover Tabitha taking away her teacup. Tabitha started backing away, trying both to keep an eye on the floor behind her to avoid tripping or stepping on broken porcelain, and to keep Great-Aunt Hilsida in her sights. Tabitha knew that the door wasn’t far away, and even if she woke up at that very moment, Tabitha could be out the door in a quick scurry with no one the wiser. Hopefully.
A small piece of porcelain crunched under one foot. Tabitha paused, but she didn’t move. She looked behind her: the door was only a few steps away. John appeared in the open section, motioning frantically: someone was coming. Throwing caution to the wind, Tabitha took the last few steps as quick as she could, closing the door behind her with a small thump and then joining John and Wulafric in a race for an exit.
They were outside and well out of danger before they stopped running and began laughing at their success. John told Tabitha how he had heard the other servants entering and making their way through the house, getting closer and closer until he was sure they would be discovered. Tabitha in turn told John how she had been in the room, just a few feet away. John went wide-eyed at the horror of it, proclaiming that he would never have been brave enough to do what Tabitha did. She just smiled, thrilled at the way her plan had gone off. (John was stunned for a few moments at the sight of Tabitha’s smile, a weakness he was quite prone too, and would be for the rest of his life, although when she finally realized it, she tried not to take too much advantage of it).
Fortunately, the way they had been running and carrying on had not spilt the small bit of tea in the cup, and Tabitha took an extra handkerchief and soaked as much of the tea in it as she could. She then gave it to Wulafric to sniff. He sneezed and backed away. She tried again. His tail tucked beneath his legs a little but he assented and sniffed deeply at it. This time Wulafric shook his head and tried to paw at his nose, then gave himself a huge shake as if he had just come out of the millpond and was getting rid of as much water as possible. He looked up at Tabitha mournfully, as if saying ‘you really want me to find that?’ She in turn brandished the handkerchief at him and he sighed a doggy sigh (one of the most pitiful things really, to hear a dog sigh. The history of sighs is very interesting, with the Marquess of Hollun having recorded the five causes of sighs in his much too long memoir of his life, although hardly anyone ever read it except as an aid to curing insomnia. George Untergangen once believed that his wife had forty-two different sighs which she used with as much effect as most people do a paragraph of words, although his friends thought him a bit touched in the head. But more to the point, a dog’s sigh is only the twenty-third most pitiful thing in the world, with the second most pitiful thing being the mating habits of the Australian Bowerbird, and the most pitiful thing in the world according to the largest number of people being crying kittens).
It was a much less buoyant threesome that made its way back to the house, as one member of the party was sulking and dragging his four feet.
Now, the second part of Tabitha’s plan was this: after getting a sample of the laudanum, they would reenter the house and pretend to wander around aimlessly, while really Wulafric was sniffing out the location of the laudanum store. After hopefully finding it, they would wait until the next day before doing anything about it, as it would be best if there was no one in the house when they destroyed it, and it would really be much nicer if she were asleep at the time.
Reentering the house Tabitha led them all to the kitchen first for a spot of breakfast, and to establish their legitimate presence in the house that day. This was very important, because if from the very first all the other servants understood that today was an indoor exploring day, they wouldn’t get looked at oddly for poking into corners and told off too harshly for looking at locked rooms. A child’s curiosity is a great excuse, as Tabitha knew well and used frequently. That day they hardly needed it: Gypsies had been spotted in the neighborhood and it was all any of the servants could talk about.
“They better keep their thieving hands far away from here.”
“Last time Gypsies came here, we drove them off afore too long.”
“Stole three cows before they left.”
“Not to mention the chickens.”
“And Ross Formly’s goat.”
“Gypsies didn’t steal that goat. My cousin Bessie said—“
“Of course they stole Ross’ goat. Gypsies steal everythin’.”
“But Bessie said—“
“Can’t be havin’ such immoral people around—“
“Stole my mother’s washing up—“
“Four cows—“
After a while it all blended together into a mass of avidly discussed accusations that all boiled down to one thing: Gypsies were no good, and good folk wouldn’t put up with their company for long.
Is there any question in anyone’s mind of what Tabitha immediately wished to do?
I thought not. But today of all days Tabitha would not allow herself to be sidetracked from the culmination of her long awaited scheme—even for Gypsies.
It was incredibly disappointing, however. Not just because she was going to miss out on the chance to see real live Gypsies, but because she could have danced a waltz with Wulafric around the kitchen and no one would have noticed. It really was a perfect day to carry out their search of the house. But Tabitha grumbled inwardly, as it wasn’t much fun being discreet when everyone made it so easy.
Breakfast that morning was hot rolls filled with bacon and thick porridge with a little fresh honey drizzled in. Wulafric ate five rolls and licked both Tabitha and John’s bowls clean of any drop of porridge remaining. They then smiled at the cook and her helper and scampered off to the upper floor where they would begin their search.
Inside Tabitha’s seldom used room she again made Wulafric sniff the drenched handkerchief and made it quite plain that he was to track that scent or else. Drooping a bit, he complied, sniffing all about the room before going to the door and indicating that he had to look elsewhere (really we mean smell elsewhere, but that doesn’t sound as good). They checked every open door on the top floor, and even managed to open a few of the locked ones who had taken several strong hits lately and weren’t too keen on holding together.
Wulafric didn’t find anything worth mentioning, although John had a grand time gaping at some of the old tattered furnishings and hangings, and was appropriately appreciative when shown the gold room that had so captivated Tabitha on her first day. Strangely, it was this room that Tabitha felt most anxious about, hoping desperately that it wasn’t hidden anywhere in here, as that would somehow spoil the wonderfulness of the room—dare it be said—the magic of the room that called to her whenever she had a moment in the day which needed something to fill it when John was busy.
The laudanum wasn’t there however, and Tabitha breathed easier. John, noticing her relief but unsure of the exact reason, put an arm around her shoulder anyway and earned himself a smile that immobilized him for precisely three seconds.
They then moved their search down a floor, with Tabitha refreshing Wulafric’s nose at intervals with the handkerchief. There were some moments when he seemed to catch a whiff of whatever he was searching out, but it never lasted above a brief second. While near her drawing room Wulafric perked up a bit, but Tabitha knew that was only because of the lingering odor of the many cups of tea she had drunk and smashed in that room. Tabitha’s hopes were still high that the laudanum would be found, but the slow pace of the search was beginning to wear on her. Loyal John would not admit to being tired or bored, but in truth he was both. They searched the upper floor and the lower floor, the pantry and the wine cellar, the servants’ quarters and the garden shed out back. The day was drawing near to tea time and they were no closer to discovering the laudanum than they had that morning. It was at that moment when blind luck saw fit to intervene, as being blind, it saw no reason not to.
One thing Tabitha had not considered, in all of her plans, was that laudanum is kept in tightly sealed bottles, closed off from the air and impervious to Wulafric’s searching nose. Roger the Butler had been very careful that they never spilled, so they did not stain the area where they were kept. Normally Mistress Hilsida kept the only open bottle on her person until it was emptied, at which point Roger the Butler would go to the store of laudanum and fetch a new bottle.
As luck would have it, that very night he went to fetch a new bottle of it, and here is how Tabitha found out and followed him.
While nearly in despair of ever finding the laudanum, the threesome trailed back to the kitchens to eat their late lunch before the cooks left, and while passing quite near to her drawing room they heard the sound of a bottle smashing and her voice shrieking out,
“It is empty, and you are supposed to have a new one for me when I need it! Well, where is it?”
There was a softer murmured reply that they could not hear before her voice rang out again.
“Well get it. And quickly!”
The threesome ducked into an open doorway and watched in fascination as Roger the Butler exited her drawing room and headed for the stairs leading to the upper floors. Tabitha felt a little cross because they had searched the upper floors and found nothing, but she was quick enough to follow Roger the Butler, and John and Wulafric came right behind her as silent as they could be.
What followed was much more to John’s way of thinking about how a secret search should be conducted, with skulking in dark corners and furtive hand signals. He had secretly felt deprived of it, while at the same time acknowledging the brilliance and workability of Tabitha’s plan—although to him it lacked imagination. But he got all the hiding and skulking that any young boy could wish as they followed Roger the Butler to a locked door hidden away in a corner of the upper floor that they had been unable to open.
Roger the Butler produced a key and opened it with some difficulty, although the lock was quiet and the hinges did not shriek. He disappeared for a minute and Tabitha did not dare follow him, as she had no idea what lay beyond that room. But he returned after not too long a time and although Tabitha did not see him carrying anything in his hands, one of his pockets bulged as if it had been stuffed with something and could barely contain it. Excitement rose within her again. This was it. This was the secret store of her laudanum. They didn’t dare destroy it tonight, not with her about to drink her afternoon tea, but tomorrow—tomorrow they would force their way through that lock and smash every bottle. Tabitha ran back to her room and John followed.
“We must get through that door.” Tabitha said. “Everything depends on it.”
But how to do it? Tabitha did not yet know how to pick a lock, (although it was a skill she would soon acquire and utilize her entire life to great effect) and neither did John, and the door was solid and not about to be broken down (else she likely would have done so already), so the only remaining option was to steal Roger the Butler’s keys.
John thought this a horrible plan.
“We can’t steal his keys,” he said, horrified at the thought of it. “We just can’t!”
Tabitha was sitting very straight at this moment, looking for all the world like a grown woman of twenty-five instead of a girl of 13. “And why not?”
“Well—well,” John sputtered, “It’s Roger—we just—we can’t—“
“There is no other way, John. How else are we to get behind that door? We’ll have to steal it. Give me a moment and I’ll think up a plan.”
For the first time since he met Tabitha, John was very afraid of what wheels might be turning in her head, of what outrageous plan she might come up with to take the keys away from Roger. His head felt split with warring loyalties. He loved Tabitha and would do anything for her, but Roger had very nearly been a father to him, and the thought of stealing anything from him was unthinkable. John had been able to get around his divided loyalties so far by thinking on the great benefit to Roger and the other servants, as well as the fact that they wouldn’t actually be disobeying any orders, really. They were just doing what was best, and it wasn’t forbidden to look for the laudanum, and John had never been told not to destroy it…But stealing from Roger was another matter.
“No. No, I won’t do it. I don’t think its right, Tabitha.”
“Is it right that she forces her servants to live in the stables because their lives are in danger if they stay in the main house? Is it right that she endangers their lives because she won’t stop drinking her laudanum? Is it right that she should wander the house and destroy all she owns because of what the drug does to her? Is any of this right? No, John. None of this is right. But we have a chance to stop it all, don’t you see? We can do it, so we should do it.
“I think this is what adults mean when they always talk about ‘duty.’ I think duty is doing what must be done, whether or not we like it, because if we don’t, others will suffer. We can stop it all, John. Stop it for good.”
John hung his head, feeling ashamed of himself, and not knowing quite why. His thoughts felt as slow and thick as honey, but he forced them out one word at a time. “I want to stop it, you know I do Tabitha. I don’t think any of it’s right. But stealing is wrong, and doing wrong to make things right—I dunno. Somehow it just seems wrong. And I know you’ll come up with a brilliant plan to get the keys, you’ve probably thought it mostly out already,” he looked up at her and a small shrug of her shoulders made him nod and smile a desperate smile. “but I can’t do what you want. Not this time.”
It was finally getting through to Tabitha that John was not to be cajoled out of his notion of the rightness or wrongness of what they needed to do. She was a bit puzzled. It was entirely unexpected of him to change his mind like this. He had never balked at anything before and she really didn’t know what to do with him. People had always balked at her plans, but then, that was only after they had been mostly executed—she had never shared them beginning to end with someone, in fact, she had never had a real friend before John, so an unaccustomed feeling of hurt was spreading through her.
Her friend, the one whom she had trusted more than she had trusted anyone else, was refusing to do as she wanted, and Tabitha didn’t know what to do. She wasn’t the type of girl to burst into tears (she had seen her mother do it too many times to wish to be anything like that), or scream imprecations (like some of the maids and footmen she had seen arguing). Cold revenge was her usual style when something unacceptable what done to her, but she had no desire to hurt John. She just wanted to understand why he was refusing, but she didn’t.
Tabitha no longer looked like a strong proud woman of twenty-five. She looked small and vulnerable, only a young girl who was staring at her best friend in the whole world with confused eyes that wouldn’t cry—no, she wouldn’t cry. She wouldn’t. Not if she had to dash her eyes out.
John felt like the worst boy in the whole world. His love for Tabitha made his heart pound in his chest like a giant’s drum, aching fiercely, and he wished desperately for a solution to this, any sort of solution that would put things back the way they were. Tabitha’s hurt felt like his own, and he would take all the hurt if it meant she didn’t feel any. But he knew that was impossible, so he forced his mind to greater heights than it had ever achieved before because he must solve this problem, and for the first time in his life he believed that he was intelligent enough to do it.
(this is a particularly bad time to interject, but it must be said that John made an uncommonly wise decision not to tell Tabitha that he would do anything to make her happy again, because it would not have taken long for her to realize that this was a promise, and she could then tell him to steal the keys from Roger the Butler. John would have either had to do it, breaking his soul in the process, or not done it, breaking his heart. But John’s struggle was all internal, and it was a struggle that would have awed any onlooker, if they had been privileged enough to see it. It would have drawn more roaring crowds than ever haunted the walls of the Coliseum in Ancient Rome, more onlookers than ever came out to greet their ruler and chant their name, more people than the world actually contained at any one moment, because time itself would bend its form to let everyone who ever existed see this battle within the heart of an extraordinary boy who was fast learning what it meant to be a man).
“Tabitha, will you trust me?”
Tabitha blinked. Of all the things she had expected to hear, this was not one of them. A long moment passed in which John’s heart plummeted to the bottom of the earth (it had already long ago gone past his stomach and feet) before she replied,
“Yes, but what are you—“
“I—I can’t quite say. But if you really trust me, don’t make any plans to steal the keys from Roger. Let me think of another way. Give me a chance to do this, Tabitha. Give me a chance.”
She nodded, the feeling that this was a very important moment causing her skin to tingle and swirl with sensation. She swallowed hard. “Can I help?”
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