“We’ve nearly two and a half hours on the ferry. Why don’t we find a place to sit? You can get out a sketchbook.”

An obvious ploy, but given the beauty surrounding them, she decided to let herself be redirected. There would be plenty of time over the summer to pry a bit more information out of her maid. For now, it was enough to soak in this new world surrounding her. And easy enough to get lost in it.

She’d filled three pages with sketches of the birds and fish she glimpsed and was putting down a rough image of the Isles of Scilly themselves, emerging from the sea, when they chugged into St. Mary’s Sound. She closed her book and tucked it and her pencil back into her bag as Mabena pointed to the sights visible from their course.

“That opening there is Porthellick Bay. And there, that giant pile of rocks—that’s Giant’s Castle.”

Libby’s lips turned up at the whimsy.

The narration continued with a list of names Libby would never be able to keep straight, at least not until she’d explored them for herself. Finally, they docked at the quay in Hugh Town with a whistle and a clang of the bell.

Mabena patted her arm. “Just sit tight for a moment, my lady, while I direct them on what to do with our trunks. I’ve arranged transport for those, but we’ll walk to the cottage through the town from here. I thought you’d enjoy that.”

“Perfect.” And indeed it was. She happily sat and soaked in the bustle until Mabena signaled her to debark, and then she happily strolled through the quaint little seaside town by her maid’s side, trying to catalogue absolutely everything she saw. Squat little houses of granite, flowering shrubs hugging their corners. Shops with darling little signs dangling outside them, proclaiming the wares within. Oceanic birds swooping and calling overhead.

It only got better when they left the town behind and took to the road meandering along the seashore. Grasses bent in the steady wind, and she spotted heather unlike any she’d seen before. Rocks cropped up here and there, promising ample places to sit when she explored. And the sky overhead stretched blue and promising.

Soon, cottages came into view, their sizes varying. Near the larger ones she spotted families of obvious wealth, playing at a seaside holiday. From these she averted her face and hoped against hope that Mama was wrong and none of them would recognize her.

Mabena pulled a folded slip of paper from her pocket and, fighting the wind at every step, opened it. She checked something about their surroundings, though Libby had spotted no road sign to tell them where they were, but her maid nodded and pointed toward a lovely small cottage at the end of the lane. “There we are. Our home for the rest of the summer.”