Four. A Tale of Two Cities
Four
A Tale of Two Cities
FIRST DAY AT SEA
June 16, 1865
Nicholas Nelson sat alone on a deck chair at the stern of the ship facing the wake, a copy of Emma resting open on his lap.
It was almost July, the time of year when the strawberries began to ripen and Nick dreamed of being in Highbury again. Hoping to bring back a large shipment, including whatever treasures Admiral Austen might have in store, the Nelson brothers had limited themselves to a handful of books each for the journey. Nicholas had packed all of Austen save for Northanger Abbey , which Haz loved but Nick considered rather slight of both heroine and theme. Haz meanwhile had brought along five rollicking tales of heroism and adventure: The Count of Monte Cristo , The House of the Seven Gables , Ivanhoe, The Last of the Mohicans , and his new favorite, A Tale of Two Cities by Charles Dickens.
Nicholas had long drawn a connection between Austen and Dickens, both in their brilliant sketching of character and understanding of human motivation and weakness. But where Austen used as few words as possible to make her point, Dickens often did the opposite. Nicholas was convinced that Austen had reworked her manuscripts many times over, even though there was little of her original writing, or thoughts on writing, to evince any of that; this might be one reason for her growing mystique. Dickens, on the other hand, wrote his novels on serial instalment for periodicals and magazines, chapter by chapter, which meant he could not go back and revise; a certain wordiness must be the inevitable result.
But what the two authors shared most in common was devotion to the reader. It was said that Austen had tested early versions of her work with family and friends, reading sections aloud; Dickens had the benefit of witnessing the public reception to his works while writing them, and later re-created condensed versions for the stage in which he played all the parts. Nick wondered if Dickens also acted out loud as he wrote; maybe Jane Austen had done so, too.
“Why, Mr. Nelson .”
Nicholas looked up from his book to see Miss Gleason standing above him, dressed in blue-and-white stripes with a matching parasol. How is this happening? Nick asked himself in desperation, raising one hand to shield his eyes from the sight of Sara-Beth as much as the blinding sun.
“Won’t you invite me to take a seat?” She collapsed the parasol and rested it against the small deck table between them.
“Miss Gleason—what a surprise.”
“A happy one, I hope.” Sara-Beth sat down and rearranged her skirts and crinolines about her. “It was the perfect excuse to avoid Mary-Beth’s coming out.” She gazed eagerly around the deck. “And where is your steady other?”
“Resting, I believe.” Nick felt his mouth go dry.
“Will he be happy to see me?”
“I can’t speak for him.”
“I doubt that.” Sara-Beth smiled knowingly. “And who is minding the shop?”
“Our uncle—he is always glad to be of help.”
“Unlike my handlers, ha! Nick, are you all right? You look a little peaked.”
“Just a touch of seasickness.”
“Let me get you some brandy—I insist.” She waved to a passing steward. “Now, tell me your itinerary. Haz mentioned making connections?”
“Mm-hmm.”
“In London?”
Nick stalled by looking about the deck, hoping to gain time to answer. He knew from experience that a small portion of the truth could sometimes satisfy Miss Gleason’s limited attention. “Portsmouth, actually.”
“Whoever could live there!” She gave a little yawn, then nodded at the copy of Emma still on his lap. “Haven’t I caught you reading that before?” Nick shrugged, unwilling to say more. “Nicky, really, how can you stand to read something again? You know the ending.” She was the only one in the world to call him Nicky—he had never tried to stop her. There’d be no point.
“I myself always read the last chapter of any book first—to make sure it’s worth my while.” She stood up with a laugh and popped open her parasol against the sun. “Well, I’m off to inspect the smoking lounge. I understand there is some gambling on board to be had, and I’m as eager to try my luck on water as on solid ground.”
Nick watched her leave in utter incomprehension. He did not understand her at all—not one little bit. Her impulsiveness in joining the ship—the unstoppable interest in his brother—such seeming confidence that everything in life would turn out all right. She could have come from the moon. Books had always been the Nelson brothers’ way of understanding the human heart, but even Austen failed them both when it came to Sara-Beth.