Page 56 of Part of Your World

Eddie turned to face the sea and held the glass to his eye. "Yes. That where they're holdin' the boy?"

"Aye. Keep watch on the boat. Ye might also turn that spyglass on the dunes. See if ye spot Zane and an older woman. That'd be Mrs. Underhill. Any witness ye can bear against her would be helpful. Oh, and if ye see a large man with a flowin' white beard comin' through here, tell him ye're with me. Might spare ye some trouble." She winked at him. "That'll be me da. He can be a tad intimidatin' when he's riled."

Eddie swallowed. "I'll keep that in mind."

Muriel smiled then headed for the shore.

Eddie jogged after her. "Miss! Wait! Where are you going? It'll be dark soon. It's not safe."

Sweet man. Muriel slowed long enough to look over her shoulder. "Don't fret, Eddie. I'm just goin' fer a swim."

"A . . . swim?" His horror-stricken eyes stirred laughter in her chest as she turned and resumed her hurried trek over the sandy dunes to the shore.

Let him be scandalized. She had a nephew to fetch.

Once she hit the wet sand, she spurred herself into a jog, running parallel with the sea to cover the most ground possible before she entered the water. When she deemed her position close enough, she looked around for a place to leave her clothes. Spotting a large piece of sun-dried driftwood far enough from the waves to avoid being taken by the tide, she hurried to it, pulled off her dress, and draped the garment over the log.

Feeling exposed without her cove, Muriel ran toward the water and immediately waded out until she stood waist-deep in the Gulf. She eyed the schooner in the distance and took a series of slow, deep breaths. She timed the rolling waves, feeling the ocean's rhythm.

Don't swim too fast. Ye don't want to burn out before ye get there. Controlled strokes. Steady pace.

Her heart had been in a constant, yet interrupted, state of prayer since she left Zane's house, but she took a moment to focus her thoughts heavenward.

I've felt ye with me, Lord. Showin' me a path to Fletcher. Be with me now. Give me strength, a calm spirit, and clarity of mind. I can't do this without ye.

As a low wave rolled in, she dove headfirst and stroked underwater to get past the first line of waves. Came up for air, then dove again until she made it past the breaker line. The water was cooler in the evening than during her daytime swims, but the surface had soaked up enough summer heat during the day to keep her shivers at bay.

Once past the breakers, she came up for air and sighted the ship. Time for the most important swim of her life.

Chapter 25

By the time Zane saw Muriel off in the family carriage, most of the guests had scattered into their own conveyances to make their way home after the fiasco of rampant rodents. Mother had taken up residence on the fainting couch in the main parlor while Catherine Trimble sat dutifully at her side, patting her hand and assuring her that her reputation as a hostess was not utterly ruined.

"There you are." Max scuttled up to him, a teasing grin stretching his face. "I haven't had this much fun in ages. I think all musicales should end in a ferret finale."

Zane kept walking, scanning the room for Grandpa Clem. "Ferrets?" he asked absently.

"Yeah. I nearly caught one of the things before it bit my thumb and ran under Mrs. Underhill's skirts." Max kept pace with him. "That woman has a stronger constitution than I expected. She didn't let out a single squeal. Just swept out of the room with that furball clinging to her garters as if nothing were amiss."

"Everything's amiss," Zane muttered as he pushed through the door that led to the dining room.

"What?" Max's voice lost its jocularity, but Zane paid him little heed since he'd found Grandpa Clem, elbow deep in the almond macarons.

His grandfather waggled his eyebrows. "I thought I better guard the food from those wily critters." When Zane failed to smile, his own expression sobered. "What's wrong, son?"

He'd not told his grandpa much about Muriel's agreement with Mrs. Underhill since it wasn't his secret to tell, but Grandpa Clem had been at the dinner where everything came to a head with his father, so he'd probably filled in some of the blanks himself.

Mindful of Max's presence, Zane kept the details to a minimum. "Muriel's nephew has been abducted."

"What?" Max's vocabulary seemed to have shrunk to that single word, though his volume had increased rather dramatically.

Zane shot him a warning look, and Max covered his mouth with his hand.

"I don't have time to go into the details. I need help searching for Muriel's father and brother-in-law. She thinks they'll likely be scouring the rail yards and wharves for the boy."

Grandpa Clem nodded. "That's where most young men get taken and pressed into service on outbound ships. How old is he?"

"Only ten."