The Unselected Journals of Emma M. Lion: Vol. 8

by Beth Brower

Women with pockets are a threat to the male sex.”

“For heaven’s sake, it is the year eighteen hundred and eighty-four. We’ve progressed beyond such old-fashioned gossip!”

It was painful, mortifying, and—dare I admit?—somewhat touching.

When the ordeal was over, I avoided my aunt and her co-conspirators and made my way directly to the powder room. (Which I wished was a gun-and-powder room, where I might arm myself.)

“She judges All and Sundry in silence until, at regular intervals, she clangs out an opinion as if she were a bell. Most uncomfortable for those of us who prefer to share our judgements freely, without discretion.”

Maddening as all this has become”—Islington waved an impatient hand—“we must remember Stonecrop.” “I can’t, as I’ve not yet been, but I will remember the Alamo.”

(A shame, really. I feel I’ve potential for a life north of mediocre.)

Mary: “Bowtie untied, Emma. As for the collar, the top button was—” Emma: “Mary, don’t say it.” Mary: “—undone.”

It’s best that this Tybalt’s people are not willing to pay the ransom on anyone. Lose the occasional member of the family so the family fortune Remains Intact.”

I smiled, and looked towards Islington, expecting him to be looking out the window, lord over all he surveyed. Instead, he was watching me.

“She must be a delight.” “Bit of a prude, really, but your existence balances the weights and measures of this world.”

Maggie Devereux, at sixteen years of age, paid two sailors to kidnap, tie up, and place in a rowboat one Mr. Revel, wealthy American businessman ten years her senior! I. KNOW. NOT. WHAT. TO. SAY. My entire life of misadventures feels like a pale sham of conglomerate effort. My dancing on the stage of The Drunken Duck? Child’s play.

“Not shocked,” I managed to say. (I was shocked.)

I had two choices before me. One might define them as Self-Respect and Curiosity. Having respected myself a great deal over the years, I chose the latter.

“We would not have done it on the Sabbath, Miss, except Mr. Stanley says removing stains is the work of the Lord.”