Percy sat down at the writing desk in his room to answer a letter he had received the day before. Because he visited with the Graces so often, he had his own room in Skye Castle. It's walls were papered in blue and hung with paintings and sketches of ships. The four poster canopy bed had a red skirt and curtains. A white coverlet trimmed with crocheted lace was spread over the mattress.

A oak dresser contained his shirts, breeches, and cravats. The top part folded down into a writing desk with little cubbies in which to hide letters.

Percy dipped his quill into the ink well and began to write: "My dearest Rachel..."
Rachel Dare was one of his oldest friends. The Dares owned an estate near Atlantis Hall, the Jackson family home, so Percy and Rachel had played together as children. They had drifted apart over the past several years while Percy was away at sea and Rachel was attending a finishing school in London but were beginning to reconnect.
Rachel's letter described her odious new suitor, the Reverend Octavian Auger. Reverend Auger was related to the aristocratic Phoebus family through his mother's side, a connection which her parents coveted. The Dares were new money, having only come into their fortune within the past two generations and through textile mills at that.
Auger sounded like the type of suitor every young lady would dread. Rachel included a sketch of a gaunt faced, sickly looking young man with a clerical collar and a pompous, self-important expression.
As the sole heiress to the Dare fortune, Rachel did not need to marry in order to live well and appeared to have little interest in finding a husband. Percy imagined that like Elizabeth I, she wanted to rule her dominion as the Virgin Queen. Rachel even resembled Queen Elizabeth a bit with her red hair and striking profile.
Her letter had been included in a package which contained four miniature portraits, each painted by her own fair hand. The first was of Percy's father, Admiral Jackson, in civilian dress: a dark brown velvet suit, ruffled cravat and hair that was dressed and powdered. Rachel had perfectly captured his strong jaw and brooding expression.

The second represented a woman with curly, brown hair, gentle eyes, a kind smile, and a wise, calm type of beauty: Percy's mother, Mrs. Sally.

Estelle, Percy's little sister, greatly resembled their mother. In her portrait, Estelle wore a simple white gown with a dark blue over-bodice; her hair was loose and curly.

The little girl was pretty much a stranger. She was born shortly before Percy left to join the navy and the ensuing eight years he had only come home for the occasional furlough of a few months. Estelle was a shy, retiring child and Percy imagined that she did not know what to make of her tall, stormy faced, booming voiced big brother who showed up out of nowhere in his navy uniform, told her stories of danger and adventure, and only stayed with her a few months out of the year. Percy always made sure to bring back a present for her whenever he returned home. Inside of his trunk was a set of traditional puppets he had purchased in the market place at Tripoli.

Rachel had put the most effort into the fourth portrait which was her own. The miniature showed Rachel sitting at her easel with paints spread out around her, holding a gilded hand mirror as if studying her reflection in order to paint it.

She wore a dark emerald colored apron dress over a white chemisette with a gauze turban tied among her frizzy, russet curls.

The emerald color of the gown suited Rachel's green eyes which were merry and spirited.
Percy proudly displayed the likenesses of his family on the the mantlepiece in his room.
"I have received your charming portraits,"  he added as a postscript to the letter, "I will cherish them always and think often of the artist."

The blacksmith's forge sat under a massive chestnut tree with long, twisting, and stretching branches which wove a canopy over the road which lead out of the village of Skye. A small boy climbed and swung like a monkey through these branches, surveying the road as it passed by underneath him. He spotted a horse trotting towards the forge.
"Someone's coming!" he shouted as he leapt back to the ground with little regard for his neck and ran to the forge.  The forge itself was housed in a squat building made from yellowish grey stone with two doors, a small door and a set of large double doors, made from old wood. The double doors were the entrance to the forge while the small door lead into the part of the house where the blacksmith and his family lived.

Leo picked up the piece of red hot metal he had finished hammering out on his anvil with a pair of tongs and carried it over to a bucket of cold water. When the metal hit the water it began to steam and change from an orange-yellow glow to a pinkish color like rare beef, to the dark grey of iron. Now it was a metal head for a crook that Mr. Pan the Shepherd had ordered. Some of the water had splashed Leo, which was a relief in the hot, smokey atmosphere of the forge. The thick, stone walls and narrow windows trapped in the heat and smoke from the fire.

From over his work, Leo saw Harley, his apprentice, running back towards the forge. Harley was a scrawny runt with a mop of unruly curls, an elfin grin and pointed ears, and boundless energy who reminded Leo a lot of himself at that age.
"Someone's coming!" The boy shouted.
Leo put down his tongs and went out to greet his customer.
Harley was tying the reigns of a horse to the hitching post by the door of the forge.

It was a superb animal: a yellow roan stallion with a black main and tail.

A groom helped the horse's rider down from her side saddle.
"Excuse me," the rider, a small, dainty young lady in a red striped redingote decorated with brass buttons, called to Leo, "Could you get your master for me?"

"You're talking to him, Miss," Leo replied, "I'm the smithy here. That fine young gentleman who lead you here is the apprentice."
Harley swept the young lady a gallant bow. She was quite pretty with cinnamon colored curls arranged underneath a wide straw hat tied with a large ribbon, and big golden-brown eyes, the color of honey- Leo wished he had thought to wash to the soot off of his face before going to meet her.

Leo was used to being mistaken for an apprentice. He was only nineteen and his small stature and babyish face made him seem even younger. Since his father had been permanently crippled in an accident three years earlier, Leo had been running the forge on his own.
"My horse lost a shoe while I was out riding," the young lady explained, "My groom told me that this forge was near by, so he lead me here."
"It would be a pleasure," Leo replied, "Just let me fetch my tools."
Fortunately for his fair customer, Leo had made a fresh batch of horseshoes a few days before. He picked out the finest specimen of the bunch, some strong nails, and his favorite hammer.
The groom held up the horse's hoof. Leo lined the new shoe with the holes left by the previous one and beat it in nail by nail.
"A fine beast," he patted the horse on its neck, "What's his name?"
"Arion," the young lady answered.
"And might I ask what's his mistress's name?"
"Hazel Levesque," she replied, giving a slight curtsy.
"Leo Valdez, your servant, madam," he bowed in return.
Getting a better look at her, Leo remembered seeing her once or twice with Mr. Hades Di Angelo, master of Styx Abbey, and his family. A face like her's, ebony colored with a lovely copper blush, was hard not to notice. Rumor had it that Miss Levesque was Mr. Di Angelo's natural daughter. The only thing know about her mother was that she had not been Mr. Di Angelo's wife. Whoever she was, Leo imagined that she must have been stunning.
"Where might I send your bill?" Leo inquired of her.
"I have money to pay," Hazel insisted, "How much do you require?"
"That'll be twelve pence."
Hazel reached into her handbag and pulled out two sixpence coins which she gave to Leo.
"Thank you, Miss."
The groom knelt down to help Hazel back onto her horse.
"Allow me," Leo cut in.
He wove his fingers together to create a step for Hazel's dainty foot, clad in a black riding boot.

Hazel climbed up into her side saddle and arranged her skirts so they draped gracefully.
"Thank you, Mr. Valdez," she explained, gently kicking Arion's flank- the signal to move.
"Make sure your lady gets back safely," Leo instructed the groom. 
Hazel rode away at a slow trot so that her groom could follow her on foot.
The door to the domestic part of forge building opened and Leo's father, hobbled out, leaning on his crutch. Hephaestus Valdez was a large, bull necked man, who, prior to his accident, had been known in the village for his impressive strength. He had a broken nose from a number of fights, and a grim, ugly face.
"Who was that?" He asked his son.
"A lady who needed a new horseshoe," Leo explained, "Come father, it's time for tea."
He took the old man's arm and lead him back into the house where they shared a meager meal of bread and butter and black tea without sugar. An unused chair by the fire place showed where Leo's would have sat, had she been still alive.
Three years earlier when the forge had caught fire, she found herself caught inside. Valdez went in to rescue her but a support beam, weakened after having been burned through, fell on him and crushed one of his legs. By the time he was freed, she had already suffocated from all the smoke.
Her gravestone stood in the church yard and read "Esperanza- beloved wife, and mother." Valdez planned to be buried next to her, underneath the same gravestone, when God finally set him free from all of his cares. Money was set aside to pay a stone carver to etch his own name above her's.
Leo often noticed his father staring at nothing with a brooding expression on his face, blaming himself for mama's death, and cursing fate for leaving him a useless cripple, reliant on his beardless boy of a son.

When Hazel returned from the blacksmith's, it was tea time. Among the tea treats were slices of carrot cake- Hazel's favorite.

Hazel wrapped the last piece in her handkerchief in order to hide it away and save it for later.
Her bedroom at Skye Castle had a pastel floral print wallpaper and white painted ceiling beams. The bed was set into the wall and had a buttery yellow coverlet and rose colored curtains.

Sitting down on her bed, Hazel found a folded up piece of paper on the pillow. She unfolded it to find that it contained two wild daisies. On the paper was written a line of poetry: "And should I at your harmless innocence, melt as I do."
Hazel stashed the note in a box where she kept her special things and pressed the daisies inside of a her bible, so she could preserve them forever.