More on this book
Community
Kindle Notes & Highlights
I had begun to pity him, but as soon as I saw that he was dead, I burst into a flood of tears. It was the second death I had known, and the sorrow of the first was still fresh in my heart. Those words shook me—every grief in me, layer after layer. I cried wholeheartedly.
My body would do nothing else. Grief pulled from my toes and my fingers and burned in my chest. These deaths, these unexpected cliffs in my life, falling one after the other. I cried until I was utterly dried up.
This is how I am now greeting all of my favourite acquaintances: “What good wind brings you here?”
“And another thing, Islington, if we’re speaking in general terms, mothers, sisters, and wives seldom get the last word. You men run everything. The entire gambit that has become our society is of your making! We can’t even marry without it being a business arrangement, usually in your favour. As for stalking, an Englishman can walk anywhere without accounting to a soul. A woman can scarcely visit a neighbour without scrutiny. Therefore, I reject your claims.”
I was Eve standing in the garden, knowing the snake had naught but evil intentions and yet still wondering if the fruit was worth the momentary alliance.
My mother always felt that Christmas—a proper Christmas—was meant to delight every sense.
I dreamt all last night that Mother was at Lapis Lazuli baking gingerbread.
And Mother—she was so tangible I could scarcely breathe—linked her arm through mine. I noticed we were of a height.
Confirmed then that Jack is really Jack’s name. And that I was brought here to make a dying mother think her son had returned to the narrow way and married a respectable man’s daughter. It was a horrible lie. I felt like the cruellest person on earth.
“Why did you cry, Jack?” she said roughly. “Tell me.” “I cried because I couldn’t imagine our troubles could ever feel small.”
And I think that was the moment I began to suspect that the luck Hawkes spoke of might really only be an awareness, an awareness of grace.
“He should have been with her a long time ago.”
I’m tired, and feeling sad for Jack, and utterly relieved his mother was gracious enough to spare me a lifetime of guilt. I would have been ridden.
I know I have incommoded more than one person in my lifetime, and I’m convinced it’s not pleasant for them. She had my full sympathies.
Did rumours about…well, almost anything somehow make it from Lapis Lazuli into the street? It was a moment of condemnatory introspection, and I’ve decided that my life has fallen into an appallingly degenerate state. If only I weren’t enjoying it so very much.
I almost retorted that she was far too confident with the space she was occupying in my world. However, cooler heads prevailed.
I’ve not only been accused of perversely delighting the neighbourhood, but I’ve acquired a new story. A banner day for Emma M. Lion.
“Thy sun shall no more go down; neither shall thy moon withdraw itself: for the Lord shall be thine everlasting light, and the days of thy mourning shall be ended.” “Isaiah?” “Isaiah.”
Miss Lion, the blessing of the Season is robust gossip. There are a great many To Dos to report on, if you know what I mean. But come winter, we chew on the bones far longer than we might otherwise.
Islington’s scowl was polite. And I decided then and there that I should interact with him more often under the lens of proper society. His manners towards one Emma M. Lion are greatly improved when he’s on a ducal leash.
“I meant it as a compliment.” “Did you? I’m not entirely sure your set understands compliment from insult. It’s my third one of the night.” “Has someone said something to you this evening?” His tone was gentle. It was also sharp.
“It’s a fool’s game that dictates the fate of many lives, Islington.”
“He said he wished you to be wise, and good, and true to the beatings of your own heart, and hoped that you could be spared the extremes of society, both the very poor and the very rich, so that neither need nor indulgence would spoil the soul he loved more than anything else in the world.”
The memory came to mind just now. And something I’ve not felt for longer than I care to admit began to take shape. That, come sunshine or cloud, I was going to be fine. More than fine. In place, and strong, and anchored in. Tonight, Islington became a stake. And Pierce. And Mary. And Saffronia. And Hawkes. All I can think of is the sound of the rain on the canopy, and everyone still smiling.
There was Mary. Shivering, cold, looking like Jane Eyre. I told her so, as friendship demands.
I’ve decided positivity is the Everest of virtues. You have to not only confront the dismal realities of life but choose, ofttimes, to blatantly ignore them.
I shoved his glass at him while trying to keep my cheeks from flaming. I handed him the glass gracefully; he was overawed by my sophistication and poise.
As for myself? Unable to bear the loss of Lapis Lazuli, I’ll refuse to sell the house and live like Miss Havisham. Except without any fuel for heat, no food, and no beautiful child to twist until she tortures perfectly nice young men.
If a highwayman put a gun to my head and demanded, “Tell me who you would trust your most treasured book with!” I would reply with a nervous but bold, “Mighty Nigel Hawkes!” I’m not certain why the highwayman feels that such information must be extracted by violence, but one can’t explain all human action.
I truly learned to navigate by remembering my mother. She was gracious. She greeted people with sincerity. She tilted her hat just so, to best complement her face.
Through fire, nature is reborn whole.
“No one warns that you can be ripped, joint from bone, simply by staring at a box, simply by holding a bit of earth in your hand. Mother was a great admirer of the Virgin Mary, and I know that phrase always moved her. ‘Yea, a sword shall pierce through thy own soul also.’ It may be blasphemous to say it, but that’s how I felt, standing there. And not only did the sword pierce, but it was twisted before the end.”
“He said goodbye, and I’ve almost become brave enough to say it back. To see a life ahead, even if it’s different from what I’d planned.”
“It takes a great deal to trust the future after one is acquainted with loss.”
“So one trusts the future,” I answered. “Despite knowing loss will be had again.” “That seems to be what we are called to do.” “Keep looking for sun on the horizon?” “Keep looking for sun on the horizon.”
“A reminder that living is a thing of wonder.”
