A/N: So I know that not a lot of people go on the Witch of Blackbird Pond Archive, but this idea has been lingering in the back of my head for a long, long time, and I finally sat down and just started writing. This is just a little project of mine, so my updates probably won't be very consistent, but I still wanted to share it with those who love the Witch of Blackbird Pond as much as I do.
Now, some information about the actual story: This is a semi-retelling of the Witch of Blackbird Pond, but in modern day, so it's an AU fic. However, not all the events in this story have their counterparts in the real book, and vice versa. I took liberties with some things to make it work, added other events and descriptions, and so, in a way, this piece can stand alone-you don't have to have read the Witch of Blackbird Pond to understand it.
And, since this is getting long, I'll finish up the rest of my extended Author's Note at the end of the chapter. Anyways, enjoy! :)
Chapter 1.
Kit ducked her head as she pushed through the airport doors, dragging her suitcases out behind her and trying to avoid the questioning stares. She was sure they all thought she was silly, with her seven suitcases arranged around her, but Kit had worked hard to cram every one of her belongings into them. She hadn't wanted to leave anything behind at Grandpa's house, and mourned that soon enough the beautiful crystal chandelier that had hung over their foyer would be sold, finding a home in some other wealthy buyer's house.
"Katherine Tyler?" a man's voice asked. Kit looked up, and was greeted by the sight of a broad-shouldered man holding a briefcase. He frowned at her baggage.
"Oh, yes. That would be me," Kit answered, relieved to have a helping hand. "Are you from the agency?"
"Yes," the man answered gruffly. "I'm Mr. Eaton, in charge of handling all your papers. I believe you've talked to my wife several times on the phone."
"Yes. She's a wonderful lady," gushed Kit, truthfully. After her grandfather's death, there had been a question of where Kit was to live, since she wasn't of legal age yet. The agency in charge of selling her grandfather's house had asked if she had any living relatives—only one, Kit had recalled, a long-lost aunt by the name of Rachel. The agency had arranged two sponsors for Kit to handle her transportation fees, legal paperwork, and to make sure she settled in nicely with Aunt Rachel. The couple, the Eatons, had kept in touch with her through the whole process, and Mrs. Eaton had offered condolences for Kit's loss. Over several phone conversations, the two women had gotten to know each other, and Kit felt fondly towards the older woman.
"She is," agreed Mr. Eaton, his countenance brightening at the mention of his wife. "My car's right here; let me help you with your things."
"Thank you," Kit said gratefully, rolling her belongings to the edge of the curb. One by one, Mr. Eaton arranged them, the final product looking much like a Tetris puzzle.
"I'm afraid this bag doesn't fit," he said, handing back her duffel bag. "You'll have to hold it on the ride there." He jerked his head towards the interior of the car, and Kit opened the door and slid in, holding her duffel bag tightly. Already, she felt out of place—the weather in Connecticut wasn't nearly as pleasant or balmy as it was in Florida. The trunk slammed shut, shaking the car slightly, and Kit fumbled with her seatbelt. Mr. Eaton slid into the driver's seat, starting the car.
They finally pulled away from the airport curb, and Kit closed her eyes as she rested her head against the window, soothed by the rattle of the car as it moved along.
"So, Katherine—"
"Kit," corrected Kit instinctively, not bothering to open her eyes. Mr. Eaton glanced up at the rear view mirror.
"Kit," he amended, "Mrs. Eaton and I have talked with your aunt, so she should be expecting you when we get there." Kit nodded, then, unsure if Mr. Eaton could see her gesture, said, "Thank you. I really appreciate it."
"It's our job," said Mr. Eaton, eyes ahead as he switched lanes. Kit listened to the steady hum of traffic while she waited for Mr. Eaton to continue. "So, how do you like Connecticut?"
"It's…pleasant enough," Kit decided, though she missed the sparkling water and palm trees of the state she'd left behind.
"It gets prettier in the summer," Mr. Eaton said, amiably. "Now, what was the address again?" He scrutinized the piece of paper on the seat beside him. "Blast, I can't quite seem to make it out."
"I've got it," Kit said, fishing a crumpled piece of paper out of her jeans, on which she'd scrawled Aunt Rachel's address. She'd looked at it so often that she'd memorized it. "Number 3, High Street."
"Oh, it's up ahead," Mr. Eaton sounded satisfied, and Kit realized that they'd already entered a subdivision where cozy looking red brick houses lined the streets. Nothing so fine as Grandpa's home, but the houses looked welcoming enough, and for that Kit was grateful.
After a few minutes, Mr. Eaton pulled up into the driveway of one of the houses and removed the key. The car died down with a gentle purr.
"There now, let's get your things," he said, unloading her suitcases for her. Together they wrangled the bags down the driveway and to the porch, where apprehension suddenly seized Kit. "Go on," Mr. Eaton urged. "Ring the doorbell." Feeling silly and self-conscious, Kit did, listening as the sound echoed through the house in front of them. Footsteps padded to the door, which opened, framing a woman of about fifty, with a few gray streaks in her hair.
"Oh, my," marveled the lady, taking in Kit. "You've grown up into such a beautiful young woman. And you look so much like your mother. It's Katherine, isn't it?"
"Kit," corrected Kit, yet again. "Aunt Rachel?" she asked, still awkward and unsure.
"Oh, yes, of course. Come in, come in. Just a second, let me—" Aunt Rachel stopped to clear some shoes out of the way as Mr. Eaton brought Kit's belongings into the house. Kit stood looking around the foyer, taking in the carpeted staircase and wooden banister. To her disappointment, above their head hung only a large lamp, not nearly as delicate or grand as the chandelier back in Florida. "Mercy! Judith! Kit's here—come down and meet her!" Aunt Rachel called, before finally taking notice of Mr. Eaton. "Oh, goodness, excuse my manners. I'm Rachel Wood, I believe we spoke on the phone…" Kit didn't hear the rest of their conversation, her attention caught by the two girls who came into view.
The first scurried down the stairs quickly, coming to a stop in front of Kit and examining her with a critical eye. Kit did much the same, except she found nothing to criticize—the girl was gorgeous, and beside her, Kit's slightly curly brown hair appeared dull and limp.
The girl had bright blue eyes under thick lashes, creamy white skin, and shoulder-length black hair that curled gently. Her lips were full, and as she studied Kit, they pursed. Finally, she spoke. "I'm Judith," she declared, and the very tone in which she said it left Kit no doubt that Judith was comfortable in her skin and confident.
"Kit," Kit returned politely, offering a smile. Judith's gaze slid past her and towards her trunk.
Behind Judith, descending much slower, but with an air of grace, came the other girl. Like Judith, she had creamy white skin and black hair, but her eyes were gray. Despite their color, though, a warm light filled them, and Kit felt welcome in the house for the first time.
"And I'm Mercy," the girl introduced, her voice soft but sweet. "I'm really sorry to hear about what happened with your grandfather. But you're here with us now, and I hope you'll like it."
"Thank you," Kit said, her throat tight. It seemed that the only words she could say were her name and 'Thank you.' Looking up at Mercy, it was then that Kit noticed that Mercy's shoulders were slightly uneven. It wasn't particularly prominent, but it did make Mercy's figure look slightly crooked, as if she were leaning down one way more than the other, instead of standing straight. Mercy, noticing Kit's gaze, smiled kindly and explained. "I have scoliosis," she said, no trace of resentment in her voice. Kit, horrified at being caught in the act, stammered and attempted to apologize.
"I-I'm sorry, I didn't mean to stare—"
"No, it's alright," Mercy said with a gentle shrug of her shoulders. "It's better that you know."
Off to the side, Aunt Rachel finally finished signing all the paperwork, and bid Mr. Eaton goodbye with a friendly wave. Closing the door, she sighed, then turned to Kit.
"You poor dear," Aunt Rachel said, moving to embrace Kit. "It must be so hard for you—your grandfather was a wonderful man." She pulled back, studying Kit's face. "Now, let's get you settled in, why don't you? Here, you must be hot in here. Judith, take her jacket and hang it on the coat rack."
"It's okay," Kit started to protest, but was stopped short and Judith held out a hand. Embarrassed, Kit peeled off her pea coat and handed it to Judith. A gasp came from Judith as she hung it on the rack.
"Burberry!" she exclaimed, studying the label. "But that must have cost almost 700 dollars!" Three pairs of eyes turned towards her—Judith's astonished, Aunt Rachel's perturbed, Mercy's kind.
"I…" stammered Kit. "Grandpa always insisted on buying me nice clothes—"
"I'll bet those jeans are designer, too," Judith said, her voice almost accusing. Her eyes took on a wishful look. "If Dad could afford to buy me clothes like that, I'd be the toast of Wethersfeld High."
Kit wriggled uncomfortably under Judith's blue-eyed gaze. She wanted so badly to be accepted here, and, in an attempt to gain some favor, blurted, "You're about my size. I've got some clothes you could have, if you'd like."
Judith stared at her suspiciously. Her eyes darted towards the suitcases, then back to Kit's brown eyes, and suddenly she seemed less sure. "Really?"
"Really," Kit said. "Here." She moved to open one, letting the top fall back gently to reveal layers of gently folded clothes, from brand-names like Calvin Klein, Juicy Couture, Chanel, and DKNY.
"Oh my god," Judith exhaled, her face lighting up. "These are gorgeous!" She pulled out a deep blue Vera Wang dress, with a black line under the bust, and held it up to herself. "Oh, Mom, don't you agree?" Aunt Rachel watched her daughter, a faint smile playing across her lips.
"It is," assured Kit. "And the blue really brings out your eyes. You should take it."
"I'll be a knockout in this," laughed Judith, tossing her head. She looked at Mercy. "Mercy, we need to find something for you, too."
"Oh, no, I don't need anything," Mercy shook her head. But Judith, not one to take no for an answer, fished out a silk scarf. It was turquoise, and one of Kit's favorites because of the tropical hues. A little bit of orange and light green ran along the edge of the scarf, and as Judith draped it around Mercy's neck, it settled against Mercy's skin with a sigh. Judith clapped her hands in delight. "It's perfect!" she said. "And you do need some more color in your wardrobe, after all."
"Oh, alright," consented Mercy, shaking her head slightly at her younger sister's antics. "But really, Kit, are you sure? This is so nice—I can't take it from you."
"It's not a big deal, really," Kit said, waving her hand. She looked towards Aunt Rachel. "Aunt Rachel?"
"Oh, no, dear. I'm much too old to get away with wearing something like that," smiled Aunt Rachel, but Kit could see a faint amount of longing in her eyes.
"How about a purse, then?" Kit wondered, pulling out a Coach purse.
"I couldn't," began Aunt Rachel, before her eyes widened. "Oh, my. That is a nice purse."
"Then take it!" the three girls burst out, laughing. Kit watched as Aunt Rachel slid the purse onto her shoulder, and then, with a mischievous—albeit faint—grin, she struck a pose. Judith collapsed into peals of laughter.
"You look great, Mom," she assured. Aunt Rachel opened her mouth to respond, but stopped as a man entered the room, looking angry.
"What is all this noise about?" he questioned. Kit almost shrank back from his scowl, which, paired with his overshadowing, bushy eyebrows, gave the man a grim look. His eyes swept across the scene. And what a sight they were, Kit thought; Mercy with a scarf tied loosely around her neck, Judith still clutching the dress to her chest, Aunt Rachel in the middle of modeling a purse. Judith found her voice first.
"Kit was showing us all her clothes," she said, her chin jutting out in a somewhat defiant matter. The man raised an eyebrow.
"Don't you have enough clothes as it is, young lady?" he asked.
"Oh, Matthew," pleaded Aunt Rachel, "let the girls have some fun." Matthew's eyes drew together as he examined his wife.
"What is that?" he asked, referring to the purse. Aunt Rachel took it off her shoulder hurriedly.
"It's nothing," she said. "But really, Matthew, the girls were just having some fun."
"They can have fun doing other, less shallow things than trying on clothes," frowned Matthew, studying his younger daughter. "Judith, put that thing down. I don't like it on you—the cut is too low."
"Dad, it isn't! It just looks like that because I haven't actually put it own yet!" protested Judith.
"It's indecent," Matthew said firmly. "And Mercy, what about you? You're normally above these things. Judith, I can understand, but you've always put your studies first—when did you start caring about silly things like clothes?"
"Matthew!" Aunt Rachel cried, scandalized. Mercy opened her mouth.
"I…" she looked to the side, ashamed. "I don't know."
"Good. Now that that matter's settled, put the clothes away and do something productive." Kit, after staying silent for so long, finally regained control of her voice.
"But, Uncle Matthew," she burst out, "those are gifts! They're mine, and I want Mercy and Judith and Aunt Rachel to have them." The other three women turned towards Kit, eyes wide.
"And who is this?" Uncle Matthew asked, his eyebrows drawing together even more. Aunt Rachel laid a hand on his arm.
"Why, it's Kit—Margaret's daughter. Remember? I told you that we took custody of her. She's living with us now."
"Goodness, she sure brought a lot of stuff," Uncle Matthew remarked, assessing Kit's things. "Where is she going to sleep?"
"With Judith," answered Aunt Rachel. "We've pulled out a mattress for her for the time being, but you and I will need to go out and purchase a bed."
"Oh, no!" exclaimed Kit, horrified. "I don't want to be a burden! I'll pay!" Uncle Matthew turned towards her with a skeptical look.
"And where, do tell, will you get the money?" Kit's face turned red under his scrutiny, but she managed an answer anyways.
"Grandfather set up an account for me that he's deposited money in every year since I was little. It's built up quite a lot of interest, and I've got money to spare—" A vein on Uncle Matthew's neck bulged, and his face grew stormy.
"Now listen here, young lady. In this house, we don't toss around 'money' like it's nothing. And I won't have you putting that into my daughters' heads, either. They know what really matters in life—family and hard work, and I'll appreciate it if you will do nothing to change that. Now, you will let us pay for anything you need and be done with it. Keep your blasted money," Uncle Matthew said, jaw working furiously. "Are we clear?" Kit recoiled, stung by his words.
"Y-yes," she managed, feeling her eyes prickle with tears as she hung her head in shame. "I…thank you."
"Now, I'm going to work," Uncle Matthew said, grabbing his jacket from the coat rack. He noticed Kit's hanging on it, too, and once more his jaw clenched. Then he was out the door, leaving only silence in his wake.
The four females cleaned up the mess they made and brought Kit's belongings upstairs, where Judith gave a tour of the second floor of the house, as well as her room. "You'll be staying here," she said, finally, indicating the aerobed that took up one side. "Mom's getting blankets and pillows for you. And you can put your stuff in my closet." Kit looked at the closet doubtfully—it didn't seem like it would fit all her suitcases, but she began unpacking quietly. Judith stood watching for a while before turning to leave. She stopped in the doorway, adding, uncertainly, "And, um, what my dad said earlier—don't let it upset you too much. He just gets like that sometimes."
Kit swallowed and nodded, not trusting herself to speak, and waited until Judith was gone before she started hanging up her clothes.
Aunt Rachel came in a short while later, carrying an armful of linen sheets. She set them down gently before sitting next to where Kit sat, staring at the suitcases she had yet to unpack.
"I'm sorry about my husband, Kit," Aunt Rachel apologized, running one hand over the linen bedspread. "He just… he's very adamant about working hard, and I think that sometimes he forgets girls need to have fun. And I don't suppose he's all too happy about being outnumbered in this house—now it's four to one," Aunt Rachel said, smiling, although it came out as a rueful sort of smile. "Those are some very nice clothes you have, by the way. You've got excellent taste."
"Thanks, I guess," Kit said, disheartened. "I don't suppose Uncle Matthew would like me flaunting them, though."
"It would be a waste not to wear them, though," Aunt Rachel said, looking up at the shirts Kit had already hung up. "However, they're so nice that I'm worried they'll get spoiled, dirtied, or ripped if you wear them to school."
"School!" Kit's head whipped up. She'd completely forgotten! "I haven't even gotten any supplies, yet!"
"Don't worry, you've got a few days before it starts," reassured Aunt Rachel. "We'll have to go out shopping for those tomorrow, along with some less expensive, every-day clothes. Mrs. Eaton tells me you haven't ever been to school."
"Not with others," agreed Kit. "Grandpa homeschooled me, and he hired a tutor to teach me at home. I've never been to public school."
"It'll take some getting used to," Aunt Rachel told her. "But Mercy and Judith will guide you."
"I…" Kit struggled to put her feelings into words. "I'm really thankful for everything you've done for me, Aunt Rachel. I know I've said it ten times over, but I know how much of a hassle it must have been organizing all my papers and getting me settled, and I really, really appreciate that."
"Of course, Kit!" Aunt Rachel said, hugging Kit. "You're like our daughter, now. I wouldn't do anything less." Kit tentatively hugged Aunt Rachel back, some of her hope returning.
A/N: Well, there it is-the first chapter! Although I said this is just a side project, I'd still really appreciate feedback/if you're interested in this story/if you'd like me to continue. Thanks for reading. :)