Chapter Five
Nanny Eleanor’s Story
Sariah gaped at her grandmother, this new information being too much. “Nanny Eleanor! You knew about mermen?”
“Of course.” Nanny Eleanor pulled up a chair she had reclining on the wall and sat down. Her face had never looked more like Frances’s when she said softly, “I told you that I have been coming here for a long time, Sariah. A very long time.” She tilted her head back and gazed towards the door, as if she could see the ocean or maybe even the past, but, as far as Sariah could tell, she could see nothing but the dividing wall and the little knick-knacks hanging there.
“When I was just a tiny bit older than you, you see, my mother died, and my father was quite at a loss about what to do for a little girl. My elder brother he could handle with ease, but me—well, we were close, but I suppose I always baffled him—oh, Sariah, do turn off the water, won’t you?”
Sariah turned the faucet off and dropped back down on a rug, her knotted skirts all about her. They were quite uncomfortable to sit down on—jammed her in unspeakable places—and she set out to untangle them as she listened. George, too, craned his neck around to catch a glimpse of his older rescuer.
“So in many ways, I was left on my own, though I don’t want you to believe some nonsense that I resent my father or that he was terrible. No. He was absolutely not. He was wonderful, but, as most male specimens are, completely oblivious as to what to do with their aging daughters.”
Nanny Eleanor turned her sharp gaze upon Sariah, and for a moment, the younger girl wondered what she could have possibly done to incite such wrath. But when she said nothing (mostly out of self-preservation), Nanny Eleanor returned her attention to the door.
“And, mind you, this was before I had ever met your grandfather, and I found most of the people around here to be absolutely insufferable, with not a thought in their heads beyond fabric, beaus, and gossip. Quite horrendous, really, and if you were like that, I should not be able to stand you, either.”
Sariah’s hands faltered over one of the knots. Nanny Eleanor remained still, as if she were nothing more than a grand statue overlooking the sea with a slightly upturned nose. If Sariah was a bit braver, she possibly would have stuck up for all those females who did enjoy fabric, beaus, and gossip, but seeing as she was not brave and did not enjoy them either, she chose to bite her tongue.
“I’d just posted a letter to my friend Bernadette, and, unfortunate name aside, she was my closest friend. We called her Ettie, just because it seemed a mild less humiliating than Bernadette, you see.”
Sariah didn’t see what this had to do with mermen, not in the least, but really, was it worth dying for?
“Anyway, Ettie wouldn’t be arriving for a few weeks, my brother Harry—you remember Harry, don’t you, Sariah?”
Nanny Eleanor paused, apparently expecting a response here.
“Yes, of course.” True, Uncle Harry, as they called him, wasn’t a fixture in the lives of his great-nieces and nephews, but he had at least been around enough for Sariah to conjure up an image of him.
“And Harry was off in town, doing who knows what. He was always a bit of a...flibbertigibbet, though not a mean-spirited one.” Nanny Eleanor cleared her throat and swiped at a piece of damp hair that had fallen across her forehead. “So I was left all alone. And, just like I supposed it did to you, the cave beckoned me. I thought that it might be a good place to do some sketching—”
“You sketch, Nanny Eleanor?” Sariah burst out. She almost jumped up with excitement at this.
“Oh, of course not now. I was terrible at it. But we all have those childish whims, and that was mine.” Nanny Eleanor gave a short chortle, as if the death of a childhood dream was somehow humorous and not horrendous. “So I decided to go in there, and I found a boy there—a merman—all tangled in nets. I managed to set him free, and—and for the next week, we were fast friends. I called him Leon. So many years have passed that I don’t exactly know how I came upon that name, but it stuck.”
“Leon?” Sariah whispered. Nanny Eleanor gave her a short look which stopped all further questions.
Especially to any questions pertaining as to why Sariah’s mother, Nanny Eleanor’s only child, was named Leona.
“I always knew Leon must have been hiding from something—running, swimming, whichever word you prefer—but he never told me what it was. Whenever I think about it, I—I wonder if he thought he was protecting me. Or if I was some reprieve from whatever lurked in his heart and in the water. But it didn’t matter. It slunk out of the ocean and took him back anyway. It was the middle of the night, and I was in my bedroom—the one that you picked, Sariah—and I heard Leon scream. He had to sleep outside, of course, in a little tide pool that we’d dug together for him. It was quite a great lark—but I digress. By the time I ran outside, Leon was gone. And it didn’t matter how many summers I waited, he never came back.”
George and Sariah were quiet. She had only two knots left to undo, and he seemed to be content to play with the foaming bubbles.
Nanny Eleanor nudged the tassels on the rug with her foot and began to straighten them out. “No matter how old I got or what happened, I just hoped that he was all right. If I could just find a note, or some kind of message that he had survived—everything would be right. So...I started to dig deeper. Try and find out more about mermen—or mermaids—and…” She glanced up at George.
He sank beneath the water even further and blew out a few bubbles.
Whatever silent conversation they had, neither of them enlightened Sariah. “And I met people. People like my friend Phineas, and...with his help, we started to rescue merfolk who wanted to come to land.”
“What!” Sariah burst out. She jumped up a bit, but a sudden pain brought her back down. She winced, but the sting was nothing compared to her curiosity. “You mean there are others? Like George? Just living on land?”
“Some, yes. More than you think, but not that many.” Nanny Eleanor almost chuckled. Almost. “That’s why I came. I heard that this one—” she gestured to George here— “was coming, but he arrived early. I was supposed to meet him in two days.”
George let out another string of bubbles. Sariah wondered if that was how merfolk talked underwater—but, wait. That didn’t make sense, because he could also speak proper English (the spirit of Lizzie was very proud of her for deducing this).
Maybe that was just what George did when he was nervous.
“I don’t want to know how you did it, but I do want you to know that it was very foolhardy, young man. Now that gives us less time before the hunters will be searching for you.”
George sank lower and let out a few more bubbles. Only his eyes and forehead were visible above the water now.
“Nevertheless, I’ll write to Phineas and tell him to start the plan early. If the hunters are coming, we will be prepared.”
Sariah’s eyes were wide. Hunters sounded very much like heinous pirates—the kind of pirates she herself would circumvent and toss in the brig.
“Well, that’s that. You know my secret, Sariah. Not even Clive knew that.” Nanny Eleanor stood up and turned to go.
“Wait, Nanny Eleanor!” Sariah grasped at her grandmother’s skirt as she passed. “Did you ever—ever hear from Leon again? Just a note to say that he was okay?”
“No. Never. And…” Nanny Eleanor sucked in a breath. “Truth be told, this is my first rescue in many, many years. After Clive died, I just couldn’t come back here, not where the memories of two lost people threatened to drown me.”
“Nanny Eleanor, you have feelings!” Sariah blurted out.
She was rewarded with a sharp glare from her grandmother’s wet eyes. “Well, for crying out loud! Of course I have feelings, child. Just because I’m not given to moon over things or follow irrational whims doesn’t mean that I am emotionless. Your mother just does not approve of me for reasons beyond my comprehension.”
They weren’t too far beyond Sariah’s comprehension. She’d often heard Mother mew like a pathetic little kitten after Nanny Eleanor’s visits: “I just don’t see why I can never please her! She’s never been satisfied with me, Franklin.” But Sariah felt like divulging the secrets of her mother’s heart was a bit like betrayal. Who knows what kind of fit Nanny Eleanor and Mother might work themselves up into if they dredged up too much of the past.
“Oh,” was all Sariah said instead.
“But at some point, one has to push aside any personal feelings you have and get back to work. The world doesn’t stop, even if your heart does. So—come along, Sariah. Let’s leave the bathroom. You understand that it would not be acceptable for a lady to be in here with a bathing boy, even if he was her brother, correct?”
Nanny Eleanor’s emphasis made the hint abundantly clear.
“Yes, Nanny Eleanor,” Sariah murmured, and shut the door behind her as they left.
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