The Voyage of Lucy P. Simmons Read Online Free Page B

inkling at all as to what I should do. In fact, I hadn’t a single notion.
    Nevertheless, I set my jaw and raised my chin in a silent vow that I made not only to myself, but toMother and Father as well—that I, Lucy P. Simmons, would do something. Something to save my home—our home—Father’s ship on shore. Something to keep it safe from my uncle’s greedy hands.
    I only had to figure out what in heaven’s name it was I ought to do.

4
    T he plan came to me that evening—after midnight, it had to have been. I had slept fitfully, tossing and turning through the early evening hours, wrestling with my bedclothes as well as with the problems at hand.
    The answer was, of course, to find Aunt Prudence. The question was, how to go about it. I forced myself to lie still, to calm my mind, which was reeling about, relentlessly replaying the events of the day.
    What did I know of my aunt, of Father’s younger sister, Prudence? She’d visited here at thehouse, some years ago now, it seemed. She was high-spirited, I recalled, and I remembered being enraptured by her bold ideas and her tales of travel. She and Mother were very close, and in between visits I would watch Mother standing by the library desk, the sterling silver letter opener in her hand, eagerly slicing open her sister-in-law’s letters from wherever in the world she’d been.
    It was that image of Mother enthusiastically reading Aunt Pru’s correspondence that gave me the notion. Why hadn’t I thought of it sooner? Of the stack of letters, tied neatly with a red satin ribbon, that Mother kept in the bottom drawer of Father’s desk? There might lie the key to my aunt Pru’s whereabouts!
    I pushed the snoring Mr. Pugsley off of my legs and slipped out of bed. I grabbed my shawl from the chair, lit the small kerosene lantern on my nightstand, and tiptoed into the hallway, lamp in hand. I carefully lowered the wick so that all the lamp gave off was enough of a glow to just light my way. I walked noiselessly, with a stealth I hadn’t known I was capable of. I couldn’t risk waking Uncle Victor or Aunt Margaret, didn’t want to arouse their attention. I scarcely breathed as I silently set first one foot, and then the other, on the stairs past their chamber. The staircase suddenlyseemed my ally, for not one board let out a groan, not one plank so much as a creak. I slunk among the shadows, blending into the darkness as though the house and I were one.
    I swept into the library like a ghost, leaving the door ajar so as to hear any movement from the upper floor. I practically floated over toward the desk and gently set down the lamp.
    The desk seemed just as Father had left it. I stood for a moment, imagining his hands on the drawer pulls, the graceful fountain pen in his hand. I swallowed hard as I took Mother’s silver letter opener and slid it into the pocket of my dressing gown. This was something that should be mine. I wouldn’t risk having it fall into my aunt’s chubby fingers, nor my uncle’s greedy grasp.
    I fell to my knees and pulled the drawer—the lower right drawer—ever so gently. A familiar dark, woody aroma escaped as it opened. I inhaled deeply and reached my hopeful hands inside.
    My heart was fairly racing. I felt the bundle immediately—the fine, dry envelopes; the tiny jagged edges of the postage stamps in the corners; the smooth, cool satin ribbon that held, I prayed, the secrets that I sought. I thought of poring over the correspondence right then and there, crouched behind the desk, but it was a desire I thought bestto curb. It simply wasn’t worth the risk of being discovered. Instead I tucked the bundle into my pocket beside the letter opener, and pulled my shawl tightly around me.
    As I stood to leave, my eye was drawn to the tall library windows. Each diamond-shaped pane seemed to sparkle in the moonlight. I could not ever remember being in the room