Part 5 (2/2)
”Sophia was your superior in every way,” Aunt interrupted, before I could tell her the truth about her precious Sophia. ”Beauty, intelligence, grace, and rect.i.tude,” she went on. ”Perfect manners, too.”
Uncle frowned at his sister. ”Sophia had her faults, Eugenie. We are all flawed. You as well as I.”
”Speak for yourself, Thomas!”
Ignoring his sister, Uncle began to carve the roast. ”Let us eat while the food is still hot.” So saying, he pa.s.sed a plate to me. ”Please help yourself to potatoes and carrots, my dear.”
Suddenly Aunt leaned across the table and tapped my hand sharply with a bony finger. ”Have you begun reading Pilgrim's Progress?”
”No, I have not.” I looked her in the eye as I spoke. ”I do not care for it.”
”You do not care for it.” She shook her head. ”I suppose you do not care for the state of your immortal soul either?”
”Eugenie, please.” Uncle patted his sister's hand. ”Allow the child to enjoy her dinner.”
”As you wish, Thomas.” Aunt rose from the table. ”Please tell Nellie to bring my dinner to my room.”
In the silence that followed her departure, the air settled around us comfortably.
”I'm sorry, Uncle,” I said. ”It seems I can do nothing to please Aunt.”
”Don't blame yourself, Florence. Eugenie is not an easy person to please.” He smiled at me. ”Now stop fretting and eat your dinner. You don't want to disappoint Mrs. Dawson.”
Pus.h.i.+ng my cold soup aside, I picked at the food on my plate. What little I ate, I did not enjoy.
When Nellie came to clear the table, Uncle and I retreated to the sitting room and settled by the fire to read, he with a thick book of essays by Thomas Carlyle and I with Vanity Fair.
”Uncle,” I said, ”am I really to go to boarding school?”
He looked up from his book, his face rosy in the firelight. ”You need a proper education, Florence. You're obviously a highly intelligent girl.”
”Couldn't you teach me here?”
”Me?” He chuckled. ”I wouldn't have the slightest idea of where to begin. My mathematics are quite rusty, and my scientific knowledge is limited to the ancient Greeks.”
”Aunt teaches James.”
”Not very well, I fear.” He looked at me closely. ”I don't think you'd enjoy her methods.”
”No, probably not.” I snuggled deeper into my chair and watched the fire dance upon the logs, slowly consuming them.
”I've been considering hiring a governess for James,” Uncle continued. ”Eugenie is opposed to the idea, but she hasn't the skill to teach the boy more than the rudiments-which he has already mastered, as have you.”
Remembering my cousin's hysterical behavior, I touched my uncle's hand. ”Is James well enough to have a governess?”
”Yes, I think it will do him good.” Uncle smiled at me. ”She could give lessons to both of you. I can't think of anything better for him. Or for you.”
Suddenly worried, I looked at Uncle anxiously. ”Will James want to see me again?”
”I talked to him before dinner. He wants you to know he's sorry for his outburst.”
”I'm relieved to hear that, Uncle. I would enjoy taking lessons with James.” I paused a moment before asking an important question. ”But will Aunt agree to my staying here? She seems determined to be rid of me.”
Uncle contemplated the fire as if the words he needed might be found in its flames. ”My sister often wants things she doesn't get,” he said softly. ”She hasn't had a happy life.”
With an attempt at a cheerful smile, he turned to me. ”I prefer to keep you here with James. So here you will stay. Tomorrow I shall begin my search for a suitable governess.”
With that, he reopened his book and I reopened mine. For some time we read in silent harmony. It didn't matter that Sophia joined us. It didn't matter that she crept close and whispered, ”Aunt might not get everything she wants, but I do.” It didn't matter that she drew some of the warmth from the fire. With uncle beside me, I felt safe.
Going up to bed after supper was a different matter. Buried under a heap of quilts, I s.h.i.+vered as if I'd never be warm. Although I didn't see or hear her, I knew Sophia could be anywhere, visible or invisible, hiding in dark corners, watching and planning, mocking me, scaring me, a presence following me as closely as my own shadow.
Nine.
IN THE MORNING, I WENT down to breakfast feeling more tired than I'd been before I'd gone to bed. Sophia had chased me through dream after dream all night long. She wanted me to do something, she said I had to, and I knew I mustn't obey her. She was wicked, and the thing she wanted done was wicked too. I had to escape, but we were in the garden and she was here and there and everywhere. I couldn't get away from her. Or the thing she wanted me to do.
”You're up early,” Mrs. Dawson said.
Yawning a great yawn, I reached for my teacup. ”I had bad dreams.”
”Never tell a dream before breakfast.” Mrs. Dawson handed me a plate of bread, b.u.t.ter, and jam. ”It's the surest way to make it come true.”
I shuddered. ”That's the last thing I want,” I told Mrs. Dawson.
As I was finis.h.i.+ng my oatmeal, I saw Nellie hesitating in the doorway as if she weren't sure of her welcome. I raised my hand and beckoned to her.
Like a mouse, she scurried across the room and slid into a place beside me. ”I been thinking, miss,” she whispered, eyeing Mrs. Dawson's broad back. Deciding the cook was intent on her ch.o.r.es, Nellie continued in a voice so low, I could barely hear her. ”Maybe it were her that made ye speak so mean.” As she spoke, her eyes darted around the room. ”Her ain't here now, is her?”
I looked around uneasily. ”No, not now.”
”But her can come anytime her wants.” Nellie laid a cold hand on mine. ”I been feeling her meself. Like a shadow her be, dark and cold and hateful.”
”Can you see her, Nellie?”
”Almost.” Her body tense, Nellie peered about just as I had, checking dark doorways and corners. ”Her scares me something terrible, miss.”
”How long have you known about her, Nellie?”
”Her been comin' upon me slowly.” Fl.u.s.tered, Nellie knocked a spoon off the table and onto the floor.
Surprised by the noise, Mrs. Dawson looked over her shoulder. ”Are you finished with your ch.o.r.es, Nellie?”
”No'm. I come to fill me bucket.” With that, Nellie scooted to the sink and pumped water into her scrub bucket. Giving me a small, scared smile, she hurried out of the kitchen.
Left on my own, I took my book to the sitting room and sat down to read. Before long, Sophia waltzed across the room, dipping and turning as if she actually had a partner.
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