Free Lucy: Daughters of the Sea #3 by Kathryn Lasky Page B

the afternoon, but it kept slipping away from her, like a reflection on water suddenly splintered by a disturbance on the surface. The water was lapping over the edge of the rocks. If she stayed much longer, she would have to wade home.
    Lucy unlaced her shoes, peeled off her stockings, and dipped her feet in the shallow pool of water. It always felt lovely and indeed it seemed to have helped her foot. She could probably dance just fine. But she didn’t want to dance. She had no interest in being paraded in front of her mother’s “suitable young men” like a thoroughbred at auction. I want to swim , she thought.
    She looked down at the water, and her eyes widened. There was a luminescence in the pool, issuing from her feet. She wriggled her toes, and the water swirled with a shimmering iridescence. Lucy pulled one foot out of the water and ran her fingertips over the skin. Skin? It was now almost translucent, and just beneath the surface, tiny ovals were glinting softly. When she removed her hand, two or three crystals that seemed the shape of teardrops were glittering on her fingertips. “ What in the world? ” she whispered. She remembered the crystal that had drifted down from the oilskin, to which she had paid no heed, and scrambled back to search for it on the rock beneath the cleft. But it was impossible to find, for the rock itself was chinked with mica chips and streaked with quartz.
    The tide was rising faster. She knew she had to get back quickly. Picking up her shoes and stockings, she waded out of the cave, mesmerized by the radiant swirls that marked her passage through the now knee-deep water. She sensed the beginnings of a secret mutiny in her heart as the tide pulled on her ankles and the water gently licked her skin.
    She turned just before she climbed on to the higher ground. There was a fading wake behind her that was slowly dissolving. “I’ll be back,” she whispered. “I’ll be back.”

 
    “O H , L UCY , where on earth have you been?” her mother exclaimed as she walked in the door. “So much has happened!”
    Though heavily corseted, Marjorie Snow seemed to be almost visibly bursting at the seams of her dress. She did not even wait for Lucy to answer the question and did not seem to notice the splashes of seawater on Lucy’s dress despite Lucy’s attempts to tuck it up. Marjorie rushed toward her daughter, waving the cream-colored invitation to the Bellamy ball.
    “First this — delivered by Gus at the Quoddy Club. We are all invited, of course. And then, just minutes ago, an invitation arrived from the Hawleys for a Fourth of July croquet tournament and picnic. I mean, this is really something. The picnic is an affair that the smart set always shows up for.” Smart had quickly become Marjorie Snow’s favorite word since arriving in Bar Harbor.
    “There are rumors that some titled people are arriving soon and that they’ll be attending these events as well.”
    “Titled people? Like counts and lords?” A note of fear crept into Lucy’s voice. She couldn’t speak to a banker without making a fool out of herself and could only imagine what would happen to her in the presence of a count.
    The funny muscle near Marjorie’s eye flinched. “Of course that means counts and lords. Sometimes you can be so obtuse.” Marjorie shook her head in mild despair.
    “It’s nothing to sneer at, Lucy,” continued her father. “These titled people, English lords and the like, have wonderful connections. You should really make an effort to form an acquaintance.”
    “But why would an English lord want to celebrate the Fourth of July?” Lucy asked. “They lost.”
    Her father chuckled. “Now, that is witty!”
    “Witty!” Marjorie almost screeched the word. “Wit gets you nowhere, Stephen! We don’t need witty. Look how our dear Lucy has blossomed. Her limp is practically gone since she arrived.”
    The reverend turned to his daughter. “I completely agree. Never lovelier. But