The Industrial Revolution was still a few decades away in Great Britain. England's population was held in check by harvest failures and diseases. London was the beating heart of the thriving nation, situated around the polluted Thames River. The cities were festered with raw sewage dumped into the streets and overcrowded with merchants and shoppers roaming the narrow cobblestoned streets. The noise was overwhelming, the stench of humanity even more so.

I looked up from the notes, eyes glazing over. Mistress Hall was perched at her desk, glaring down her thin nose and through her spectacles at me. Her brown hair was pulled back tightly in a severe bun. Her face, which looked as if it had never once known a smile, hardened as I looked back. I was too bored to care if she decided to punish me for not reading.

I felt a sharp prod in my side. I glanced over, frowning. A boy my age was giving me a meaningful look through serious green eyes.

"You'd better get back to reading." James hissed as Mistress Hall pursed her thin lips. "She's extra mean today."

"Alright, alright." I muttered, looking back down at my book. I finished reading the last few paragraphs of the history book and looked up only when Mistress Hall cleared her throat loudly.

"I would like for you children to recite the national anthem before I dismiss you for the day." She demanded. "Stand up."

The twenty children in her care obeyed. Like soldiers, each of us held a hand over our hearts and chanted "God Save the Queen" at her like a bunch of parakeets.

"Very good." Mistress Hall barked. "You may go."

"Yes ma'am." The class chimed back, except for me. I was staring at the fringe of dark hair across her unwaxed upper lip and had said, "yes, sir."

The class fell silent. I felt heat climb into my cheeks. James gaped in horror. I clenched my hands into fists as Mistress Hall strode over quietly, skulking closer like the Grim Reaper.

"Excuse me?" She said quietly. Her dark eyes were flashing dangerously. "What did I just hear come from your uncouth little mouth?"

In spite of my error, I found myself staring back up at her, forcing myself not to flinch away. "I was distracted, ma'am. I didn't realize what I had said."

She glared at me through the spectacles. "I want lines, Fisher. Twenty of them. You shall write, I must not tell lies. The rest of you may go."

The nineteen other children scattered like roaches. James looked at me, concerned.

"Mr. Norrington!" Mistress Hall snapped. "Outside with the rest of the class. Unless you'd like to join Miss Fisher in her punishment."

James stood stoutly. "I'll do half of the lines, ma'am, if that is alright with you."

I grinned at James, my back to Mistress Hall, who sighed, deflating at James' stoic calm and his perfectly cultured mannerisms. It was hard not to be charmed by such a dashing eight-year-old boy. "Very well, very well. But no talking."

James and I picked up a piece of white chalk and began scrawling her instructions across the board. James' handwriting was neat and cultured; mine was hastily scrawled and uneven. Mistress Hall's eyebrows lifted in disapproval.

"You'll be needing to practice your penmanship, Miss Fisher." she said in a highly offended tone. "You both may go."

James and I hurried out of the schoolhouse. The late spring weather was warm and enticing, blowing the fragrant tang of salt off of the Atlantic just a quarter mile from where we stood. We rushed down to the water's edge, abandoning most of our clothes in our haste. The beach was empty except for a few seals who moaned at us, but didn't leave their warm sunning spots.

"That old bird… I swear, she's got it in for me!" I complained as I splashed about in nothing but my petticoat. I loved the feeling of the cool water rushing against my hot skin.

James smirked imperiously. "Perhaps if you tried a little more flattery and a little less daydreaming, she'd like you."

"Maybe she likes you because your father pays for her salary." I shot back, kicking a volume of water at him. James laughed and chased after me, pelting me with a wad of black seaweed. Shrieking, we played with reckless abandon until the sun had sunk considerably in the sky. We left the sea and plodded back toward the village of Saint de Lune.

"You know, Father's asked me to join him on a voyage." James said in an excited voice. "We're going to hunt down pirates!"

I frowned. "Pirates? But they're such ghastly creatures. Why would you want to go? I'd be afraid for my life!"

"Well," James said proudly, "if I want to be like my father someday, I'll need to start facing my fears."

I shrugged. "I think there are better ways to spend your life than chasing after pirates."

James puffed out his chest. "I say! I'm going to be an admiral someday, like my father. You just wait, Grace."

"Right." I said, rolling my eyes. "I've never met an admiral who was afraid of spiders."

James looked defiant. "I'm not afraid of spiders! You squash them with your shoes. That's all."

"Really?" I said, pointing. "Because there's a large yellow and black one right behind you."

James turned and glimpsed the hand-sized garden spider hanging on an impressive web near the front door of a house. He let out a piercing shriek and ran behind me. I laughed at his expense.

"That… just… surprised me!" James gasped, his green eyes wide. I laughed harder.

"Just admit it!" I crowed. "You were afraid!"

"I was not!" James shouted. "I'm not afraid of anything."

"Sure." I said teasingly. "Sure you aren't."

James folded his arms. "Well, Mother did ask me to invite you to supper. But I don't want you to come over if you're going to make fun of me."

I frowned. "That's mean, James. We're still friends. It's fine to make fun."

James looked indignant. "Very well. You may still come over."

I huffed and turned away. "No thank you, Mr. Norrington. I've got to go home and practice my penmanship."

James snorted. "Not that practice improves anything, but if you must." We parted ways. I lived in a house on the road to his. The Norrington manor was the largest house in the village, situated atop a small cliff that overlooked the crashing sea and had a full view of the ocean and the countryside sprawling behind it.

I glared after his retreating back, but knew that our friendship was in no real danger. We had been friends since we were five years old. Nothing had changed that, not even our different social class.

The house I lived in was small. One-story and holding only six rooms, it sheltered myself, my aunt, uncle, and their three children. My father returned to port every few months and stayed briefly. Sometimes he would be home for a few weeks. Other times, a few hours. He never stayed longer than two months. My uncle was a better father figure than he was, though I had learned that no one could replace the man who had brought me into this world.

Aunt Angela was shaking out laundry to hang when I entered the house. She glanced over at me and gave me a small smile.

"How was your day?" She asked as she pinned one of Uncle John's trousers to a line.

I shrugged. "It was alright. I couldn't help but notice Mistress Hall's moustache."

"Grace Fisher!" Aunt Angela gasped. "Do not speak of your educator in such a way. She is a very smart woman and very strong to take on teaching twenty rambunctious children five days a week. Now come here and help me with the chores."

Grumbling, I obeyed. Aunt Angela and I sang softly as we finished hanging up the clothes and went outside into the garden to tend to the growing vegetables.

"Where are the others?" I asked, meaning my cousins.

Aunt Angela gestured to the three figures coming towards us down the main road. "Returning from the market. We needed meat and flour."

I waved at them. Mary, Nathan, and Samuel waved back in greeting.

"You may go." Aunt Angela said, smiling. "Oh, come here, dear. You have a smudge on your cheek."

I squirmed while she wiped away the speck of dirt on my nose. She smiled at me. Aunt Angela, Uncle John, Mary, Nathan, Samuel, and Father all had the same wild brown hair and eyes. I alone had bright strawberry blonde hair that curled in waves and sea-blue eyes. I had inherited my father's chin and nose, but otherwise, looked nothing like the man.

I hurried away to meet my cousins, who were carrying bags of groceries in their arms. Nathan was the eldest at fourteen, then Samuel at ten. Mary was my age. She grinned, noticing my damp hair.

"You went swimming, didn't you?" She said.

"After I called Mistress Hall 'sir'." I said lazily as I took a bag of flour from her arms.

Samuel and Nathan guffawed. "Lucky she didn't spank you." Nathan said. "Had you been a boy, you'd be unable to sit down for a week."

I regaled them with tales of the day while we made our way back to the house. It was quaint and familiar. A small column of furling smoke rose from the chimney. As we entered, Aunt Angela instructed us on how to go about the rest of our chores.

"Master Norrington is going on a voyage tomorrow." Uncle John announced later at dinner.

"I know," I said, eating a roll. "James told me he's going."

Aunt Angela frowned. "Well, that's odd. James is just a child. He really shouldn't be going on an excursion to apprehend pirates."

"We aren't children, Aunt Angela." I said indignantly. "We're almost nine."

Nathan and Uncle John choked back laughter while Aunt Angela fixed me with a stern look. "That'll be enough of your cheek, Grace Fisher. You're too much like your father, off sowing wild oats."

"Angela," John said, laying his hand upon hers.

Aunt Angela looked upset. I frowned as she refused to meet my gaze.

"Your father is coming into port in a fortnight." Uncle John said. "I'm sure he'd love to see you."

I clapped excitedly. "Oh, really? I haven't seen Father since March."

"Try to look presentable." Aunt Angela reminded me. "You're too much like my sons. Not afraid to get dirty or throw punches. My word. Not the way for a proper young lady to act at all."

I rolled my eyes. "But what if I don't want to be a lady? I want to go out and explore. I want to see the world! Why is that so bad?"

"Because!" Aunt Angela reprimanded. "You are a young lady. We are giving you an education in hopes that someday you can make something out of yourself."

I glared down at my nearly empty plate. "I never asked to be a girl."

"Heavens, help me." Aunt Angela said breathlessly. "You're too much like my brother. Lord! Before we know it you'll be hanging from the riggings of a ship and-"

"Look!" Samuel interrupted his fussing mother. "Admiral Norrington is coming this way."

Aunt Angela and Uncle John leapt to their feet. They were trying to gussy themselves up before they answered the door. I glanced around their bodies as they opened the door to reveal the tall, intimidating presence of Admiral Lawrence Norrington.

"Good evening, Mr. and Mrs. Moore." He said formally, smiling.

"Good evening, Admiral." Uncle John said, shaking a proferred hand. "To what do we owe this visit?"

There was no animosity, only curiosity and a tinge of fear.

Admiral Norrington stretched on the front of his boots and caught my eye. He smiled warmly.

"My son James was expecting Miss Fisher to attend dinner with us. We were hoping that she might want to join us for dessert and a story."

"Oh, of course!" I cried jubilantly. I jumped over to the door. Aunt Angela fussed some more, muttering about 'wild child' and 'just like her father'.

"Of course, if that isn't a problem." Admiral Norrington said gaily. "I see we've interrupted your own dinner."

"Not at all, not at all." Uncle John said, waving him down. "Admiral, would it be alright for her to spend the night? I'm afraid the hour is growing late and I must be awake early for work."

Uncle John worked as a blacksmith. He made swords, including the ones that Admiral Norrington used.

He smiled. "Why, of course. Come along, dear, we'll take the carriage back up to the house. Good night, Moore family. I will return your ward in the morrow."

Aunt Angela bent down to brush a kiss on my forehead. Though she was fussy and often overbearing, I knew she really did care for me deeply. She had been the one to raise me after my father had been off to sea. I had never known my real mother.

A small pang of familiar sorrow twisted inside of me at the thought, but it was forgotten as I hurried out of the house and clambered into the carriage that would take me to the Norrington Manor. Admiral Norrington patted the driver seat. "Care to drive with me?"

I grinned in disbelief. "Yes, please!"

"Up you get." He helped me settle in beside him. He snapped the reigns once. The sleek horses tossed their beautiful heads and pulled the carriage forward. We were heading uphill, passing increasingly affluent properties as we neared the cliffside hill where the manor stood, every window a square of warm yellow light in the darkness.

"I hope you know that James is going to miss you." Admiral Norrington informed me as we neared the house. "He is also quite afraid of going out to open sea with me. He specifically requested to see you tonight."

I blinked up at him. "Oh." Was it that obvious that James and I were such good friends?

Admiral Norrington smiled. "I am happy that my son is able to be friends with a lovely young girl like you. It makes him thankful for what he has. You are a dear child, Grace Fisher." His eyes shadowed for a moment before clearing. "Here we are."

No more than ten minutes had passed since the time we left my house to when we arrived past the black iron gates of the stunning mansion. A marble fountain in the front gushed clear water. Statues of various creatures lined the steps to the impressive oak doors. A huge chandelier hung in the foyer, adding to the grandeur of the home. Admiral Norrington helped me climb down and led me inside, where several servants and maids greeted us with water and offered to take our coats.

"James is in the parlor." Admiral Norrington said. "You remember where it is?"

I nodded and hurried off to the red-paneled room. A merry fire crackled in the large stone hearth, giving off a pleasant odor of smoked wood. James sat at the red table, his mother seated near him. She smiled warmly when she saw me. She was very similar looking to her son, with the same nose, mouth, and eye color. James had inherited his hair and facial shape from his father.

"We are so delighted you could join us, Grace." Katherine Norrington said, addressing me by my first name. "Won't you please, sit down?"

I did. Choosing a seat next to James, I watched as the kitchen staff served Yorkshire pudding and slabs of Spanish chocolate on perfect white porcelain plates. I waited until the Norringtons began to eat before I picked up my fork. The food tasted heavenly.

"My boys leave for the sea in the morning." Katherine Norrington said sadly. She patted her sons' cheek. "James wishes to follow in his father's footsteps. And so he shall."

"Katherine, my dear," Admiral Norrington chortled, "the boy's growing up. He needs to learn by watching, not just by sitting in the classroom."

"Pirates are such fearsome creatures." Katherine went on, fanning herself dramatically. "Don't you agree, Grace?"

I nodded. "I guess so. I've never actually seen one."

James gave me a pointed look. "And you shouldn't. They're vile beings. They'll rip your bodice off and make you wish you were dead."

"James Lawrence Norrington!" Katherine gasped. "Where ever did you learn to talk like that?"

James glanced at his father guiltily, who was smoking a thick cigar. "Don't mind the boy, Katherine." Admiral Norrington assuaged. "He's got to grow up sometime, you know."

"I think it's exciting, really." I said casually as I finished my dessert. "Going off to sea… I've always dreamed of such things. But my aunt and uncle say I'm to remain on the land and become a proper lady. But my father is a sailor. Maybe it's in my blood."

Admiral Norrington and his wife exchanged an uneasy glance. "A wise suggestion from your family." Katherine said carefully. "A proper lady is more valuable than a sackful of gold."

"Mother," James said lazily, "isn't it true that we already know-"

"It's time for a story." Admiral Norrington interrupted his son, giving him a hard look that silenced him. "Shall we continue with Utopia or Robinson Crusoe?"

"Either." James said, bored.

"If you aren't interested, you can go to bed." His father suggested.

James shook his head. "Alright, alright. Grace? What say you?"

I shrugged. "Which one is more adventurous?"

Admiral Norrington selected a book and sat down in a stuffed chair. "Robinson Crusoe it is."

James and I relocated near the fire to listen to his father read. Katherine Norrington sat near her son as the story progressed, drawing him closer. Either James didn't notice or he didn't mind. After awhile, she had him wrapped in her arms lovingly, as if she didn't want to let him go.

I felt an odd sensation in the pit of my stomach, watching them. I heard Admiral Norrington reading the book, but only saw a mother holding her child. A tightness spread in my throat. Blinking back tears, I looked away, hugging my knees to my chest.

I had never known my mother. Aunt Angela had cared for me since I was an infant, but there was a different tenderness in how she looked after her own children, my cousins, than she did me. It was as if there was a certain, irreplaceable bond between a mother and her child. One that I had never had.

Why? I thought sadly. Where is my real mother? Why didn't she want me?

"I think it's time for bed." Admiral Norrington said, breaking me away from the direction of my thoughts. Embarrassed, I wiped my eyes with the back of my sleeves.

"Yes, I agree." His wife said, rising to her feet. "Come along, children. I'll tuck you in upstairs."

Katherine Norrington escorted us up the grand winding staircase with its white oak bannisters and huge chandelier. She led us past six doors before we entered James' sleeping quarters. His bed was larger than my aunt and uncle's, loaded with soft pillows and a feather-filled duvet. Katherine Norrington said we'd been splashing in the water enough today to be clean enough for bed. She changed us separately into nightclothes and tucked James in for the night. She led me away into the room next door and settled me in the big bed.

"Good night, dear." She said, kissing my forehead affectionately. "You know you are always welcome at our home."

I gazed at her lovely face, then her heavy silver pendant. This woman lived in luxury and without worry about her own parentage or safety. She was a proper English lady who had a comfortable life stretching ahead of her.

"Good night." I said politely. Katherine Norrington doused the lamps and allowed the moonlight to stream through the big window. She closed the door behind her softly.

I lay there for what felt like hours, watching the pale face of the moon rising higher into the sky until it disappeared from view. Every noise had me on edge. I couldn't stop thinking about my cousins or my shared room with Mary. Alone, it was just too quiet.

And I couldn't stop picturing the face of my mother, whom I couldn't remember. I couldn't suppress the aching loss I felt either.

Finally, I had had enough. I swung my legs over the edge of the huge bed and crept soundlessly out of the room and into the hall. All was dark and quiet. Distantly, I could hear snoring. I guessed it was Admiral Norrington. I opened the door to James' room and closed it quietly behind me.

James sat up. He blinked blearily, rubbing his eyes. "What's the matter?" He said sleepily.

I crossed the rugged room to his bedside. "I can't sleep alone."

The statement was also a question. James shrugged and turned away. I bit my lip. When I didn't leave, he moaned and patted the empty side. Victorious, I jumped up, scooting against him so he moved away grumpily.

"Watch it." He muttered as I kicked him in the calf.

"Sorry." I whispered. Already, I felt better. There was a warm, heavy weight in the bed, a comforting presence reminding me that I was not alone. I snuggled into the pillows and relaxed.

After a moment, I said, "James?"

James grunted a response.

"Do you… do you think my mother wanted me? Do you think she's alive?"

James was silent for a moment. I worried he had fallen asleep. I listened hard.

"I think…" James said quietly. "You're right where you need to be."

I smiled slightly. "Thanks, James. Good night."

"Good night."

A cricket chirped in the room. I chewed my lip again. "Hey, James?"

"Good Lord." James moaned. "What?"

I hesitated. "We'll always be together, right?"

James made a non-commital noise. I felt a flutter of panic. "James?"

"I said always!" James muttered hotly. "Now go to sleep."

"Okay." A long pause. "James?"

"Grace Fisher, go to sleep or so help me, I will take you with me out to sea tomorrow and hand you to the pirates myself."

I grinned, facing away from him. "Good night, James."

"Good night, Grace."