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Keep thy friend under thy own life’s key.
The edge of life can be marked in black faster than one would suppose. Why not ring all the bells?
can hardly make up for that now, Agnes. One cannot eat cake in the street without good reason.” (Perhaps something to be questioned?)
As for advisement, anyone with sense would marry the duke, have the vicar officiate, and hire the photographer to take a wedding portrait. Knowing you as I do, you’ve no intention of doing anything so prosperous, and so I seek clarification.
(Sometimes experience is not the order of the day.)
Life must be lived. And if we can enjoy some of it, so much the better.
To be frank with myself, it is far more intimate than propriety allows. But I cried against the man for half an hour while on a train to London a fortnight ago, so appalling familiarity has already been breached. To say nothing of notes through the wall. Nor time spent in his studio. Dear me. I am a socially loose woman.
One should follow the French in fashion, but not in politics.”
I sat on the edge of my bed until morning began to break. What a terrible bore. Emma, you really must pull yourself together.
“To what do I owe this privilege?” he asked. “I’m glad you see my presence for what it is.” “I was being polite.”
My speaking those words together seemed to have a peculiar effect on Islington, the Duke of. I would call it menacing delight.
Islington tossed his pen onto his desk. “That’s in two days.” “It is.” “How can I, in good conscience, give a positive character reference with only two days to observe you?”
“I’ll ask Hawkes. I’m to borrow a book from him.” “Oh? Which book?” “How To Handle Meddlesome English Women.” I laughed. And thought a few mean things.
Bath could no longer hold him. I’m worried Hell won’t be able to either.
Send me a charming letter. WHEN HAVE I EVER REPRESENTED MYSELF AS CHARMING? I’m charmed by your studio.
It was not as monstrous as I’d imagined. Neither was it as simple as it should have been. Really! Give a man control of a gazette and he’ll grow drunk with power.
You must convince me, Miss Lion. I am Fate.” Truly. The hubris.
Young Hawkes appeared, looking a harassed Angel Gabriel.
Admittedly, that may be an exaggeration. Admittedly, the hyperbole feels justified.
Again, Cousin Archibald misleading anyone feels rather day to day.
I did not ask details, feeling that, as a young female with a delicate mind, there were things I need not burden myself with.
It wasn’t the house that caused the infractions, it was the man. The house is quite innocent. As am I.”
“I’m a human, a person, who abides in the neighbourhood. I didn’t realise there was an entrance exam.” “Cheek, Miss Lion, will get you nowhere.” “Cheek clearly led us here, didn’t it?”
No question I was a person of character. I noticed he did not use the word good. A coincidence, I tell myself.
That was all. I was not trying to look a gift horse in the mouth, but if this was their version of support, I was going to be damned with faint praise.
speak. Seeing as how there was no way on God’s green earth I was going to allow him to pay a penalty in my name, I opened my
“You are fortunate in your friends, Miss Lion.” I believe he meant it literally.
I wonder if I should take up maths? Perhaps I could sit in my garret and propose complex theories, earning myself a pension from the crown for my brilliance.
“Forget The Duck, Pierce. What does she mean by DAMNFINO?” Pierce grinned. “Damned if I know.” “You clearly do.” “No, Emma. That’s what it means.”
But sometimes family gets their minds stuck on what a person is, and they won’t let it go.
This bit was said wickedly. And I denounced it.
“My reputation is catching the interest of the town.” Emma: “You mean the ton?”
thought that would get a smile from him. Instead, it got a rise.
It felt like he’d thrown a stone through my window.
“All you’ve done is take something enjoyable and smear ash over it. Well done, you.”
“What the hell are you doing!” I was wondering that very thing myself but wasn’t in the mood to admit it. “I sought to avenge you.”
“Don’t be angry.” His words deflated me, but not completely. “I’m not angry.” “You are.” “I’m composing myself. Not the same emotion.”
“Oh, Parian, it’s true, isn’t it? There is no peace for the wicked.”
“You didn’t.” “Pretend I was a man to acquire the work I needed to remain alive? I most certainly did.”
I began to smile like an absolute fool. It felt like I hadn’t in a while. Smiled, that is. I’m certainly a fool on an every-other-day basis.
I knew that the grin on my face was not ideal. Alas. It could not be helped. It was a delightful pickle of a moment. And having nothing to do with me whatsoever. How marvellous. How blisteringly marvellous.
“An institution such as this values the mind despite the packaging. Be the man short or tall, plain or handsome, he is weighed on capability, ingenuity, and intelligence. And yet we find a breakdown in such a system when the individual is a woman. Illogic at its highest order.
If I’m going to type endless drafts of your book, I’m not going to let what could stand to be improved repeat itself in the shadow of my silence.”
I find that if I can embrace pain a quarter of an hour, almost everything becomes tolerable.”
“A grin is only a smile that’s fully decided to get on with it.”
“You are justifying your behaviour because of Joan of Arc?” “No. I am pointing out that women have been doing far more daring things than anything you could tally beneath my name! I’m as tame as a nun.”
Dukes and their lofty educations, waving their knowledge over the rest of us like a banner.
It dawned. Red in the morning, sailors take warning.
And then the words he said may have well been a gunshot, point blank. I can’t even remember them all, but it was something about my living three years of grief all at once. Then a litany of signs. Dark circles under my eyes, no appetite, distracted or staring out the window.
“Some things must wring out every last ounce before the end. But your mettle is proven, Miss Lion. You will be weighed and not found wanting. Memories are preserved, sacrifices are honoured, and all the moments before half-open windows are known. In the end, all is mended.”
