All Bedlam Courses Past (part one hundred twenty-nine)

All Bedlam Courses Past

Chapter Five

Collecting Debts

(part one hundred twenty-nine)

“We need men, don’t we? That was the only reason. All we’ve got is Roger and Mr. Pelle. And Mr. Collinson who’s giving the talk.”

“It’s a problem, I know. But Yeager’s after sensation.”

“Oh, he thinks. We ought to bore him…I mean ought…try to. He’s expecting marionettes, swanee whistles, whatever they use. We could even have Collinson lead us with the lamps on. We could have a forum: is politics anathema to the spiritual life?”

“You mean with regards to the vote?”

“If anyone wants to say so.”

They had been hearing noises of Fannie’s maid, still Ellen, stout now and breathless, accepting overcoats, teasing a bit with Roger, never seen in Cookesville without his mother; austere a bit with Pelle, nudging in on Roger’s heels.

Élucide sprang for the Metzes. She had a regular speaking topic for Bertrand’s tutor, and Pelle was better avoided. She doubted her face so extraordinary it must be captured. He had set her up with this remark, and his eyebrow could convey it now. She wasn’t sure girls in the city made good livings at modeling…

And everyone said, “Don’t fall for it.”

But, curiosity. What was inside that Pandora’s box?

At Ellen’s fetching, Collinson came down from his room. Polly was brought from the door by Fannie. Eliza Keene would be coming…six. Carolina Melvin, Élucide’s recruit, seven. Libby, the only school-age person among them (though no Chambliss had attended school), eight. Ellen would sit in, and that made nine. Herself and Fannie, ten and eleven.

Collinson, with a set to his shoulders of refusal to be disappointed, squared a stack of booklets on the buffet; on an easel of his own, he fixed one to showcase a split illustration.

“We learn our formative language by ear. Our difficulty is to grasp the orthography. But to learn another, English in this case, we do the opposite. We are able to read and write the language before we’ve got accustomed to hearing it. And then, as an example, Latin…”

“Miss, where should I set up the prints?”

Absent, she took what Collinson proffered, turning from Roger at the bell. Libby ducked her head into the room and out.

Fannie’s voice: “Well, this is going to be such a treat! I’m so pleased!”

Then Verbena, Fannie’s elbow linked through hers. Verbena in silk, years worn and patched…fancy yet against the day clothes of everyone else. Élucide darted in for a hug, chastened. Why not Everards?

So many becauses. Old Richard was there too, smelling, not caring.

“Oh, Lucey, what’s that? Is that someplace real?”

The print in her hands, tinted with color, inked rendering of an “artist’s impression”, fairylandish in its blues and blushes, was titled, “The Pink Terraces”.

138

Bedlam

All Bedlam Courses Past (part one hundred thirty)

(2024, Stephanie Foster)