Part 14 (1/2)
The stationery was a somber tan instead of Mary's usual peach. Flo flipped it over and saw that she must have borrowed it; Julius Mohl's name appeared on the back flap.
February 11, 1850 Chere Pup, I received your letter, posted from Cairo, with the wondrous description of your boat ride up the ca.n.a.l on your way to the Nile. Now I picture you, Selina, and Charles scampering up the great pyramid, scratching your initials on the ceiling of a secret pa.s.sage known only to pharaohs. I know you are having a splendid time and will write me your adventures in detail.
I've been sitting on a secret for three long months because I wanted to be able to change my mind up until the last minute. Personally, I don't give a snap for surprises, so before I tell you my news, I hope you'll accept my apology for waiting too long to share it with you. I believe you shall be happy for me. For I am happy, despite my indecision beforehand.
Julius Mohl and I were married three months ago. (Espoused ”before men and angles,” as Smollett said-I think in Humphrey Clinker.) I was so unsure of this decision that when we published the banns, I paid a poster boy to plaster over them immediately. Other than Herr Mohl and me, no one knew of the engagement.
Married life suits me. Julius has moved into my apartment and installed his gigantique library. I write this surrounded by Ninevah and Ur in all their glorious dust and gold.
As you know, I planned never to marry, and this conviction strengthened after Claude died, for he was the love of my life-at least so I believed at the time. Julius and I comforted each other for the great friend we had lost. This shared grief brought him closer to my attention and me to his. And though Julius is seven years my junior, I believe we are well matched. As a woman nearing fifty, I dare not call myself a ”new” bride; I think of myself as a bride who has at last been brought out of mothb.a.l.l.s.
We had no official celebrations. Instead, two days later, Julius and I traveled to Berlin, where we spent three weeks with delightful and elite company. Herr Mohl, the celebrated Orientalist, had spent so many years in Paris that none of his colleagues recognized him on sight!
As you know, for years I favored ardent friends.h.i.+ps over romances, for I was not willing to trade a roomful of loving friends for one partner who might become possessive and boring and keep me from the social life so essential to my happiness. In short, the salon continues in full force, Julius being my a.s.sistant and constant companion. The only difference is that he no longer goes home at the end of the evening. (Before I forget to tell you, upon our return we had the pleasure of an evening with your friend Richard Monckton Milnes, who is an avid admirer of French literature. He takes a scholarly interest in the Marquis de Sade, Julius told me after he left.) Florence, dear, though this interlude in Egypt is only a hiatus in the family wars, I believe that once your ambitions take firmer shape, you shall fulfill them. Ultimately, I know you shall make your way in a world that is often hostile to women like us who break the standard mold.
The next time you visit, though everyone will address me as Madame Mohl, I shall still be your Clarkey (what's in a name, a rose would smell as sweet, etc.), and eager as always to hear your latest thoughts and plans.
Your loving,
Mary
Flo's temples were pounding; her face was on fire. Because they always shared their letters from Clarkey, she handed it without a word to Selina, but did not watch her read it. Being married, and happily so, Selina would doubtless be pleased.
Flo, however, felt devastated, betrayed. It could not be! She did not want it to be! But she couldn't say so, even to Selina. It was unkind and rude, small-minded and selfish. It would sound mentally unbalanced. It wasn't as if Mary had sworn to Flo to remain celibate. Yet Mary had violated her deepest precept. How could she? What had changed? If it were a union of convenience, Flo found it all the more abhorrent.
She could not imagine answering Mary's letter. Ever. For Mary was no longer Mary, but a stranger. Anyway, what could she say? I feel wretched about your marriage. How could you? She didn't wish to hurt Mary, though Mary had unknowingly cut her to the quick.
Selina finished reading. ”Hurrah for Clarkey!” She waved the letter aloft. ”Wonderful news! Aren't you thrilled for her?”
Flo sped through everything she might say that would not give her away, but could only manage, ”I am surprised. Aren't you?” She could not force an iota of joy into her voice, further proof that deep down she was a wretched person, unable to be happy for a friend. She felt sick to her stomach, light-headed. ”I'm a bit woozy,” she said, touching her hair.
”Is there anything I can do?”
”I think I'll have a lie down.” She stood and hurried belowdecks without waiting for Selina's response. Even with her closest confidante Flo was too ashamed to admit how she felt.
She lay facing the row of windows, eyes closed. A sense of dread overpowered her and she trembled. Mary had been her ally; now she was alone. And still she did not regret refusing Richard. She would do it again.
Despite her rational resolve, a feeling of terror began to overwhelm her. Lacking Clarkey's resources, how could she achieve anything without f.a.n.n.y and WEN's consent? What would she do for money and where would she go and what would become of her shadowy sister, Parthe, who yearned always to be by her side, unable to take a forward step on her own? Poor Parthe! Poor Flo, with her sister stuck to her like dock weed to a lamb.
The sun was high in the sky when Flo opened her eyes. Soon it would be time for lunch. Selina or Charles would mention Mary's marriage, the thought of which terrified her most for what it predicted of her own future. She would have to feign a headache.
A welcome breeze pa.s.sed into the cabin through the open windows. Where did breezes come from and where did they go? The Greeks thought the winds slept in caves and in bags carried by the G.o.ds. If only she could disappear as the wind did, without fanfare or ceremony or people asking why. She was utterly alone with an ambition that was fierce and truly monstrous, for it could not be satisfied without changing the entire world.
14.
TOOTHACHE.
At first, Flo ignored Trout's guttural sounds. It was just past dawn. So often now, she suspected Trout of testing her. ”What is the matter, for heaven's sake?” she finally asked, lacing up her boots. It seemed she might be dressing herself unaided today.
”Toothache.” Trout's voice was m.u.f.fled by the pillow, which, Flo saw as she leaned closer, was wet with drool and flecked with blood. ”A bad one.”
”Do you have all your teeth?” Flo realized as she asked it how rude and irrelevant the question was. She knew very well that Trout had front and side teeth. f.a.n.n.y would not have hired a maid with a gapped smile or a mouth like burned-out ruins.
”Yes, mum. My teeth are good. So said the dentist.” Trout's words were gluey and ill-formed, as if she had dumplings in her mouth. Obviously, talking was uncomfortable.
Flo was surprised. ”You have visited a dentist?”
”Yes, at Hanover Square. You, mum?”
”Of course.” Flo had had two wisdom teeth pulled.
”A nice gentleman,” Trout recollected. ”I asked was he willing to fix the teeth of a servant.” Trout paused and swallowed carefully. ”'Don't you worry,' he said. 'I can fix your tooth in no time.' Then he said he guessed I weighed about eleven stone and gave me a tonic.”
”Eleven stone you weigh?” The number was higher than Flo would have expected.
”Eleven stone and three.”
This seemed to be a point of pride.
”I think I'm half man, my arms are so strong.” Trout turned slowly, keeping pressure on her jaw with one hand. ”Thirteen and three-quarter inches, I've been told, at the bicep.”
Flo wondered at Trout's use of bicep, and who would have measured her muscle, and why.
”The dentist stopped my tooth with that stuff.”
”Gutta-percha?”
”That's it. Oh, ouch!” Trout's hand flew to her right cheek and she burrowed her face into the pillow.