39Chapter Two
Promised words exchanged
Against Fate it will be tried
Seas will separate us
And our past has crumbled and died…
Four years passed, and during the span of time, Peter and Harriet maintained their friendship. Both had grown, one more than the other in a sense, but still kept the spirit that strengthened their bond. Harriet had gained a few inches, though no more, for she had gotten severely ill when she was ten and was required to lie in bed for months. Her health was afterwards closely watched and she was put on a specific diet in order to help her resume full strength, for the doctor had mentioned that in a few years, she would hit the era of adolescence and it was recommended that she be at stable wellbeing before the years arrived.
Peter, however, had grown in height as well, surpassing the head of his companion by two inches or so, but not in breadth. But the boy was still young and he had not been thoroughly acquainted with what adolescence brings both physically and mentally. Although he was wise in the school sense, he still had much to learn about the world, and he figured what better way to understand the world than by seeing it by sea.
During the time Harriet spent ill in her bed, Peter visited her often. He had excelled in his studies at the school he was attending and his mother had found him to be around the proper age to enlist as a midshipman in the Service. His father was already a loyal member of the Royal Navy and encouraged Peter to join. He had mentioned it often to Hattie, who honestly had no comment on the possibility of him leaving to become a Navy man. She presumed that he would stay in London and move on to college and educate himself with law or business, but Peter had a desire for his own adventures. And those waited for him on the measureless blue span of ocean.
By the time Harriet and Peter had reached their twelfth year, their friendship was still as strong as ever, and constantly fortified with numerous stays in each other's company. The games and pranks the two had performed in past years came less often, as Harriet's once colorful and imaginative mind had begun to turn grey. The girl had discovered a bit of startling news when she turned eleven and had not dared say a word to Peter until she found the precise moment.
Nevertheless, the two would share a quick game here and there, sometimes of wit, which Harriet had always lost, and more often of light activity, which Peter did not find much to his liking. The duo had even ventured far enough out into the English countryside to find a low platform by the sea, rather like a cliff of perhaps thirty feet high, on which they could stand on and watch the waves of the cobalt blue ocean lap against the jagged, straight wall of the rock.
Both of them enjoyed the spot and had unofficially declared it another sign of their friendship. Peter loved the place for it brought him close to sea, and Harriet relished the height of the platform, sometimes daring Peter to dive into the water from the top, and he would dare her back, and she'd cower. She did, however, promise to herself that she would jump from the cliff and into the water one fine summer day when she was older and Peter was forced to say that he'd be there to witness it, just to ensure that little Harriet did not go back on her word.
The boy had grown used to calling her Hattie, though he remembered his manners when addressing her with adults, which was still something Hattie needed to improve on. She still had the tendency to let fly all her emotions instead of containing them inside and her mother had tired of consistently scolding her in public.
But then there came a day when all of that would change. Peter was at the highest peak of happiness in his life and had jumped into a carriage straight for Hattie's home. He had received the greatest bit of news ever to reach his ears and next to family, Hattie was the first person he had to tell.
As soon as he was let into the house, he abandoned all protocol, whizzing past a shocked Mister and Missus Neville and running up the stairs, calling Harriet.
"Peter?" answered Harriet, emerging from the den on the bottom floor, her face puckered with bewilderment. She thought she heard Peter yelling around her house and she never imagined him doing such a thing in a million years.
"Hattie?" shouted Peter from above, the thud of his boots sounding down the stairs once again, and he spotted her at the end of the stairwell, her parents behind her and looking at him with the most bemused faces. "Hattie!" he repeated, reaching her and embracing her so tightly that her frail body was lifted off the ground.
"Peter! What is going on?" she squealed, lightly beating on his shoulders to put her down. "My parents are—"
"Forgive me, Mister and Missus Neville," said Peter hastily. He gently set Hattie on the ground again, seeing that her pale face was now bright crimson. "Come, Hattie," he said, taking her hand and leading her out the door.
"To where, Peter?" asked the stupefied girl, having difficulty keeping up with him.
"To the cliff by the sea," he said with a breath as he moved his feet to a faster tempo.
"But Peter, I—"
"None of that now, please, Hattie. You will be overjoyed when you hear what I have to say to you."
And so she followed him, never taking notice of the clouds forming in the sky or the soreness rising in her throat. She was not feeling very well that morning from the beginning.
When they had reached the green patch of grass on top their cliff, Hattie immediately collapsed to the ground, looking at Peter with eyes slightly dimmed with a coat of wetness. "What is it, Peter?" she asked, her throat dry from the run.
He looked back at her and smiled a smile that seemed to have come from the purest of gratitude and delight. "I've been taken aboard a ship, Hattie," he said, kneeling before her and taking her hands in his. "My parents have paid me a spot as midshipman on the H.M.S—" Hattie suddenly grabbed his forearms and stared hard at him, her face tight, but breaking within.
"What?" she whispered in utter disbelief.
"I'm now an officer of His Majesty's Navy, Hattie. I am being taken on board a ship captained by one of my father's good friends. I'll be able to learn the sea's ways and navigation and—"
"Peter, you can't leave!" cried Hattie, standing up and facing him, her tiny hands clenching and her eyes misting.
The boy had not anticipated her reaction to be as such and the bliss he was feeling but a few seconds before was now drained from his face, letting a cloud of sudden hurt cover his face. She had most rudely disrupted his speech of absolute elation, and looked upon this great event as a course of bad luck. "Why, Hattie? I thought you'd be happy for me." Despite the gentleness of his words, his eyes were chilling with anger.
The girl lowered her argument and backed away from Peter, her shoulders dropping and her grayish face taking the likeness of smoothly carved stone. "Because you can't leave, Peter," she said, growing frustrated and scrunching her fingers back into fists. "You can't. You can't."
"What reason is there that keeps me from leaving, Hattie? I've told you about this for months now and you act as if you did not see it coming!"
"Because I never thought you'd actually leave!" she shouted, and distantly, a low rumble came from the dark sky. "You can't leave me, Peter!"
He turned around with a moan, crossing his arms over his chest and looking at the waves of the sea as they gradually worsened with temper. Everything he had done was for her. He had visited her nearly everyday when she had taken ill and followed her lead, nearly did everything to make her happy, and still she could not be content. His lips tightened at the thought of how little time she had spent to please him, and yet, through it all they had stayed friends, but for what?
"You still haven't given me a solid reason, Hattie," he said, turning his head to look back at her, and she stood on the ground like a puppet hanging from its strings, as if she could fall at any moment. "All you speak about is yourself, what will make you happy. What about me, Hattie? This is something I've looked forward to for years now. You know how important it is fo—"
Harriet silenced him with a thrust of her arms in the air and her mouth spitting out shouts instead of words. "You want my reason, Peter? Then I shall give it to you!" She took a breath and felt something wet drip from her eye. It wasn't a tear. Water had fallen from the sky. "I am being sent to finishing school. I'll be gone within a fortnight, Peter. And you know how I've never wanted to go to such a place."
"It is a school, Hattie. There is nothing to fear in school. You will be in good hands, I promise you."
"You don't understand, you foolish boy!" she screamed. "You made a promise to me when we were eight, Peter. Don't you remember? You said you'd take me away if I ever had to leave my home and will you now go back on your word, Peter? Will you leave me now?"
"That was a silly thing to promise from the beginning, Hattie. You were eight, you didn't know better," insisted Peter, unable to sympathize with her fear of leaving home and family behind to become the lady she never wanted to be.
Something changed in the girl's mind, and her lips remained shut for a long time, the rain beginning to fall faster from the sky, sputtering onto their faces in weak drops of bitterness. From above the sky thundered quietly, and from below the sea groaned with malcontent, the waves gradually beating against the cliff side with more force.
Peter placed his hands on his hat, to make sure it didn't fall off if the storm grew worse. He watched Hattie stand still through the curtain of raindrops and grew slightly worried over her standing out there, exposed to the rain. He was about to go to her and suggest they leave, but she at last spoke to him.
"Very well," she said softly, her voice saturated with grief. "Go."
The following day, Hattie was unwell again. She had contracted a fever and sore throat, and was ordered to stay in bed until better. Peter could not visit her as often as he would have liked, for he was occupied preparing for his departure which would be exactly one week before Hattie had to leave for finishing school.
He did manage to fit in a short appointment with her on his last day in London and he took a seat in a chair at her bedside and said a few last things to her. He told her he would write to her and had been given the address to her finishing school, which was in Wiltshire. All Hattie found necessary to respond to him was through a series of simple nods, for her voice was failing, and she frankly did not want to talk to him. She had let him go to his voyage, but that did not mean she forgave him for breaking his promise to her.
Her family, save for her mother, who stayed behind to keep her company, went off the next day to see the ship off, and Nicholas was kind enough to return home with an accurate tale of what happened at the harbor. His story brought little joy to Harriet though, who was too tired in the mind to feel joy and too sick to care. She understood very well, however, that she and Peter would never be the same friends they had been before. Things were different now.
By the week of her own departure, Hattie had recovered well from her bout with fever and was slowly packing her possessions, trying to delay every part of her leave in as many ways possible. She even found it necessary to behave properly both at home and in public to somehow convince her parents that she did not need to be 'finished.' But their decision had been final since the day she found out a year ago.
On a bright and cool fall day, Hattie left her home and took the long carriage ride with her mother to Wiltshire, where she was introduced to the building and people who would mold her into an entirely different young woman.
Peter Miles Calamy
HMS Redoubt
On Patrol off the Coast of France
November 17, 1800
Miss Harriet Abigail Neville
The Godolphin School for Girls
Salisbury, Wiltshire, England
Dear Hattie,
My hope is that this letter finds you well in your new abode in Salisbury. I have heard of the Godolphin school, and it is exalted as one of the finest finishing schools in England. I do hope that you accommodate well to your new surroundings, despite your adamant defense against your clear dislike for it.
Life however, on a ship, has certainly proved as a challenge. The Redoubt is a fifth rate ship of His Majesty's Navy, holds thirty-two guns, and congregated on the ship are two hundred and seventy five men, five of which, including me, are midshipmen. The other lads are all fairly young and new at the position, and though there are only five of us on the ship, the midshipmen's berth is still small and confined. The Senior Midshipman is a young man named Abraham Kersey, and he seems a decent fellow, as he will be the leader of the midshipmen. We've all bonded quite well on our voyage so far. As you may tell from the date, we have been out to sea for about a month now.
If we were to meet, you would find me fairly intelligent on maritime affairs. Ask me what the name of a sail, a mast, a line, a yard, a deck, a cabin, and I will be able to answer them all correctly. I have also learned my way through the rigging and have a jolly time racing up there with the other lads. Needless to say, I have also looked forward to my lessons in navigation and seamanship. But I am probably boring you with such events. You probably want to hear of my adventures.
The Redoubt was assigned to locate a French privateer—a frigate—hiding in the English Channel and preying on small merchant vessels. But a few weeks out to sea, we spotted her, and immediately set course to 'taking her a prize' as was the phrase used by the captain. By then, I was fairly educated in the ways of the sea, and capable of manning my gun division as I was taught, with order and speed. In the face of battle though, I found myself rather unprepared for the chaos and death that ensues ship fire.
We came alongside the French ship, running out our guns and firing, having the weather gauge to aid our cause. The French frigate was no bigger than ours, and so the battle was at no certain victory for some while, until a man from Mr. Kersey's division knocked down the topmast of the French mizzen, which hurdled down onto their starboard side, crashing on their deck and killing a good deal of their men.
At that moment, we were commanded to board, and I had to lead my division to fight. There weren't many men left to kill when we leapt on deck, but we fought until the ship raised her colors. You may regret to hear that I shot and killed a man, Hattie, and I was in an oddity of grief and misunderstanding on the whole thing. The only thing assured was that I had ended life, Hattie. I still do not know what to think of it now.
The ship was captured though, and her cargo was laden with wines, perfumes, and other exotic goods that are sure to be worth a decent sum on the market. For the capture of the ship, all of us were guaranteed a share of the prize, and so I shall be earning my first pay, Hattie. I know it may not seem much now, concerning my age, but it does give me a sense of dignity.
If the captain is correct, we may be docking in Portsmouth for some repairs, which will most likely take a few days, perhaps a few weeks, giving me an opportunity to visit you in your new school. I hope that you are advancing in your studies and doing well, and if I cannot visit you when we dock, then I wish you all the best until next we meet.
Your loyal friend,
Peter Miles Calamy
Miss Harriet Abigail Neville
The Godolphin School for Girls
Salisbury, Wiltshire, England
January 9, 1801
Midshipman Peter Miles Calamy
On board the HMS Redoubt
Off the Coast of France
Dear Peter,
Excuse the delay of this letter, as I did not receive it until the eighth of January. I should have told you before you left that students at Godolphin are not allowed to receive any messages from outsiders, other than family and suitors. As you well know, I am too young to have one, and therefore can only receive mail directly through my family. However, Mistress Hopkins is at leave attending to personal matters (it is said that her father is ill), and shall be gone from the school premises until February. The woman she left in charge is her niece, who attended school there, but is not at all as harsh as Mistress.
It was on the day she upheld her aunt's duties (which was yesterday) did she call me down to her office and show me the letter you sent. I perceived that Mistress, upon seeing it delivered, locked it away in a drawer full of other prohibited letters and away from my knowledge. But kind Missus Burke handed it to me and I was immediately thrilled at your letter, Peter.
As you can probably assume, I am most proud of you, Peter. I cannot imagine you gallantly stepping onboard a terrifying enemy ship, a sword and pistol in your hands, and shooting down Frenchmen. Of course, I canimagine you doing such a thing, but it doesn't come without some difficulty. Though, I am happy that you are growing into a young man and being exposed to the truths of the world on your prized little ship, while I am stuck in a rather stuffy school learning how to sew, sing and dance.
If you are interested in how life is there for me (which I doubt you are), I can summarize my activities with one word: monotonous. We rise every morning, usually between the hours of six and seven, and prepare ourselves for the day. I usually wake early to get to the large privies shared for each pair of rooms, which, if I may add, house five girls in each room.
The lasses I am stuck living with are a mixed sort. Some are above me, literally, as in both money and age, and some are at level with me (though with the dullest of minds) and then there are those below, who are just younger than me. I have made a few friends, well… perhaps few is not the word. I was greatly accepted by the "highest" division of the social elite, my sister's legacy having been known here. They are all quite eager to hear my opinion on things and I am surprised and rather annoyed at their desire to follow my every whim. Do not these girls have the ability to create their own thoughts?
Ah, yes, I can picture you laughing at me for my ridiculous and slightly exaggerated observations, Peter, but they are, for the most part, honest. But let me move on.
After dressing in our traditional school uniforms (which are different in color, according to season. Winter is white and blue), we file down from our dormitories to the dining hall, in which we are served a light breakfast. Then, we proceed to our classes. My first is etiquette, taught by Mistress, but in her absence, taught by Missus Burke. Then, I am off to dancing lessons with a very charismatic Irishman by the name of Mister Redmund O'Cleirigh. He is very charming and is but sixteen years of age and the girls all consider dancing to be their favorite class. You must think I am joking, Peter, for telling you our dance teacher is but still a boy, but I kid not. His father is the true teacher, but his son, who was named after him, just teaches it better. In truth, the younger Mister O'Cleirigh attends the Godolphin school for boys which is a simple walk from our building. We often visit him, but I know such things bore you, so I shall speak no further about them.
After dancing, I take my courses of language: Latin and French, which I find rather uninteresting. Afterwards is singing, then arithmetic, writing, and lastly embroidery. I have improved in all classes subtly, but at least I am making improvement. I also must learn to ride a horse, a subject called equestrian, and I am very unsteady on those large, sleek beasts. I feel as if I will slip off and break my neck whenever I mount, and I have difficulty with that as well. I cannot even do simple jumps and so my fear has pushed me to the back of the pack in those lessons, which is an embarrassment, for most of my friends are onto trotting and galloping while I totter with a simple walk.
But horses, dancing, and all other things here do not match the great times I shared with you, Peter. If this letter reaches you within a month's time, I must warn you not to send any more letters to me, for Mistress will have returned and gone back to hiding your letters from me. You may send them instead to my family if you wish and when I visit them for Easter celebration, I can have the freedom of reading your letters.
I look forward to your reply, whenever it may be. I have successfully endured life here at Godolphin, but I still wish with all my heart that you could come and take me away from here, Peter. But it is stupid hoping for that, as you are out at sea and hundreds of miles away. Farewell for the moment.
Yours truly,
Hattie
Peter Miles Calamy
On Board the Esther
At Sea in the Western Mediterranean
April 5, 1801
Miss Harriet Abigail Neville
15 Guildford Place
London, England
Dear Hattie,
I would have written sooner to you, but I did not receive your reply until mid March. It is good to know that you are doing well in your new school, and I am positive that you are well on your way to becoming a lady (though I know you will make me regret my words, for being a lady has always been the farthest thing from your mind).
We did indeed return to Portsmouth to finish repairs on the Redoubt, but our services were apparently needed elsewhere, and we could not stay in Portsmouth for as long as I had hoped. I was taken aboard theEsther, a brig-of-war in His Majesty's Navy. I was saddened at moving down to an even smaller vessel, with but fourteen guns and a sorry crew of about twenty-five. There are a few sailors who seem to belong on the sea, but the rest are indisputably landlubbers brought on board from the press gangs.
Nonetheless, I carry out my duty.
As of now, we are in the Mediterranean, patrolling for any suspicious behavior or for any illegal cargo—more pirates, in general. I do hope to get to some action soon, for we have done nothing but sail. I still do my usual activities during the day. I stand watch, take my meals, do my educational work for a few hours, then go back up for watch, practice my navigating… and the like. It has all become rather routine, and I am beginning to feel like you in your finishing school, doing the same things everyday with nothing to look forward to.
I write this letter during my leisure time, which has suddenly been cut short. Word just came to my ears that we've spotted a suspicious looking vessel one point off the larboard beam. But I must be confusing you with my nautical speak. I will write more as soon as action begins again, but at the moment, life is rather bland.
Your loyal friend,
P.M. Calamy
Miss Harriet Abigail Neville
Ferndale Estate
Sailisbury, Wiltshire, England
May 17, 1801
Peter Miles Calamy
The HMS Esther
Western Mediterranean Sea
Dear Peter,
When I visited home for Easter, your letter had arrived remarkably fast. A speedy two weeks. That is a lucky time, my friend. As you may tell from the address, I am staying at Ferndale Estate with a few friends of mine. Young Mister Redmund O'Cleirigh—do you remember him? He is my dancing instructor and also a good friend. But anyway, he invited me and some of my friends to his family's estate nearby.
Now, I know what you are thinking, suspicious young boy, but Red (that is what I call him) is a good and fine gentleman. Besides, we are accompanied by one of the girls' parents, so we are safely chaperoned.
But since last I wrote to you, I have done a lot better at school. I find dancing as my favorite class, not because of the teacher, but because I am actually good at it. Red congratulated me on my light and small feet. He even taught the whole class with me as his partner! The girls afterwards were very certain that he admires me, but I find it doubtful. I am but twelve years old, Calamy. I am not looking for any of the sort.
Your monotony at sea I am deeply sorry for. It must be dreadfully boring to go through the same routine, and yes, it could very well compare to life here at Godolphin, but since I am spending the weekend at Red's estate, the view has been slightly better. Yesterday morning we all went riding, and it was beautiful, Peter! I had a bit of trouble with my horse, but I had some help from the stable hands and from Red to keep my horse under control. I did, however, fall into a puddle of mud on the ride back, and the girls would not stop laughing at me for hours, even after I had bathed and gotten the dirt off me.
We did have a picnic later that day, and everything seemed so wonderful there, Peter. I wish you could have joined us. The girls though, only wanted to sit around and talk, but I'd rather be moving. Red thought the same and he danced with me on the grass. And we were barefoot! I was laughing for such a length of time at the unconformity, but I did have a splendid time.
Red has invited me to go back there during the weekend of my birthday, but I had already gained permission from Mistress to leave school for a week to visit my family in London. Perhaps you can make it back to land by my birthday, Peter. It would not be the same without you. Fair winds, my friend.
Sincerely,
Hattie
She looked up from the words she had just scribbled onto yellow parchment. The phrase, "It would not be the same without you," swam in her head, trying to fit itself as honestly in her mind, but the more she thought about it, the more she understood her true feelings. She did not care if Peter came back or not. Her new company was making her happy as ever. She was fine without him.
The candle on the writing desk was coming low, and the flame danced weakly in the still air of the room. It was dark, save for the soft golden glow touching her face and illuminating her dark eyes. The letter was left open to dry, the curved, connected letters standing open to her, tempting her to rewrite it and put forth her genuine feelings. She had even written "sincerely" as her closing farewell, and she knew it was the largest lie on the paper, and it ate at her like acid. She had never once thought of lying to Peter. She trusted him with everything, and now… she could care less.
Her small nose twitched and her eyelids blinked rapidly a few times before she expelled a sigh and took the edges of the paper in her fingers, folding them stiffly to fit in the envelope.
"Harriet?" asked a voice. It came in simultaneous to the soft crick of a door hinge and she turned her head to the entrance of the room, finding Red coming through, with a candle in his hand free hand.
"I'm here, Red," she said. With a pivot of his head, they locked glances and he smiled at her through the light emitted from the candle.
"What are you doing? We were wondering where you went." He made way towards her, setting his candle on the mantel piece above the unlit fireplace beside her desk.
"I've just been writing," she stated simply, looking back to the folded piece of paper being ignored on the desk.
"It's awfully dark in here. Are you sure you don't want to go out for an evening walk?" His voice had a hint of worry towards her, and their gazes met again, and in the light she saw his dark red hair glimmer like the fire on the candles.
"A walk would do me fine. Are Olivia and Beattie coming along too?" She got up from her seat, leaving the letter where it lay and faced him. He offered his arm to her and with a timorous smile, she looped her arm through his and placed her free hand gently on the side of his shoulder.
"They declined, if that is all right with you," said Red.
"It is. I need the evening air. Lead the way, Mister O'Cleirigh." The young man grinned and together, they walked out of the room, leaving the dying candle on the desk to burn down into nothingness.
Peter Miles Calamy
On Board the Esther
On the Outer Ridge of the Caribbean Sea
August 25, 1801
Miss Harriet Abigail Neville
15 Guildford Place
London, England
Dear Hattie,
It took a large expanse of time for me to receive your letter. Apparently it moved from one ship to the other and did not reach mine until two months later. I know your birthday was on the tenth of June, and I send my extremely belated birthday wishes to you. You were older than me for a month, before my own birthday arrived in early July, but I am sure that yours was celebrated with much love and merriment.
We're now leaving the Caribbean Sea, after sailing for about two weeks around its waters. We caught a French sloop and sank her with too much ease, thus creating little amusement for me and the other lads. Our pay has gone another notch up, as the sloop was filled with expensive cargo. Again, not that the pay matters to me. I just long for more adventure.
I am most pleased that you are relating well to others at Godolphin. Your dancing teacher seems a fine young man, though I am still a bit mistrusting of you visiting his family's home. But I know you are a smart girl and will not do anything that you will regret later.
There is a small rumor on the ship that we will be going to England and I may request for leave on land for a time, just to visit my family and you. Nearly a year at sea makes me realize how sick I am for home, so I am hoping that I will get to step foot on solid earth for more than a day and to sleep in a bed rather than a hammock.
There is a knock on my door, and one of the marines has just informed me that I am needed with the captain. Excuse the brevity of this letter, Hattie. I do wish to write more to you soon.
Yours truly,
Peter
Miss Harriet Neville
The Godolphin School for Girls
Salisbury, Wiltshire, England
November 8, 1801
Mister Peter Miles Calamy
On Board the Esther
Outer Ridge of Caribbean Sea
Dear Peter,
I feel guilty as I write to you, for I received your letter months ago, but I have become so occupied with my life at school that I forgot about it, though I assure you that I shall not forget anymore.
At the moment, I am doing well, and can you believe it has been almost a year since we went our separate ways. Both of our lives are changing quite rapidly, I would imagine. I myself have undergone some slight physical changes and I know you are growing into a man yourself.
But it is to my regret that I must inform you that my family is moving closer to Salisbury, in order to keep close to me. And so, it would be best for you, Peter, to refrain from writing to me for a time, as my family will be busy and sending letters to my school is prohibited. I will tell them to write to you as soon as they are settled in their new home.
And so, until then, Peter. I hope all is well with you. Oh yes, and to address your worry over Mister O'Cleirigh, there is no need. He is a very good young man and a good friend of mine. Good bye, Peter.
Cordially,
Harriet
Hattie dropped the quill in her hands, leaving the leftover ink on the tip make a few dots on the letter. She did feel guilty while writing it, but it was not because she received it and did not reply so soon. What she felt guilty about was that she received it early, ignored it, and was now replying to it with a lie.
Her family was not moving to Salisbury at all.
She did not want anymore letters from him. None at all.
But she had little reason to abstain from writing to him. All he had done was write to her, tell her of his adventures and to connect them together even if they were oceans apart, but she didn't want to hear from Peter. At first, she was delighted to have his letters and she'd press them to her chest after reading them and bubble with laughter and giggles all day, but then after she met Red, she began to forget, and she grew less interested in everything he had to say. Not to mention that he had not come to visit her at all—had not come to take her away…
He didn't succeed in the mission she assigned him. Red did.
He took her away from the school atmosphere as often as he could. He'd hold dance lessons outside so that she could get fresh air. She visited his estate every weekend and went out to picnics with him and walks by a small stream and ridden horseback across the great hilly land.
What did Peter do? He was at sea, becoming a better seaman, forgetting his promise to her. Forgetting…
She bit her lip and hurriedly folded the paper after the ink had dried and stuffed it into an envelope and sealed it with hot wax. "I'm sorry, Peter," she whispered to herself. "I cannot do this anymore. I must move on, for I am actually content here, and your letters remind me of a broken promise that continues to break my heart. Goodbye, sweet friend."
When the wax had dried and cooled, she brought the paper to her lips and she kissed it, knowing it would be the last she'd send to Peter. But she did it for the better. There was no use in trying to play with a toy that was already broken, just as there was no point in renewing a friendship that had long since decayed.
One could say young Miss Harriet was growing bitter while growing sweeter at the same time. She was gradually being fitted into the tight mold of a refined and stunning young woman, but her heart had become intolerable to the past. She closed it shut to things she once knew, embracing far too openly the new things of the present and forgetting how the past had got her to where she was now. Her mind found pleasure in every part of her new life, and she found the deepest of sadness and anger through her childhood memories, for every time she recalled them, all she could remember was a broken promise and a boy who had vanished beyond the horizon and out of her life's view.