Chapter 16 #2
“That almost sounds as if you don’t believe I was suffering from scurvy.”
“Since scurvy is an illness people get when they’re deprived of fruits and vegetables, seamen being the ones you read about acquiring scurvy most often, and you were eating fruits and vegetables consistently during the time you claimed you had scurvy, do you find it surprising that I might not have thought you had that particular disease? ” Seth asked.
“I suppose that’s fair,” Louisa conceded. “However, if not using my talent to benefit the Pinkertons, what would you suggest?”
Seth frowned. “Aren’t you going to explain why you claimed to have a case of scurvy when you obviously didn’t?”
“I needed some uninterrupted time and knew your father would call in a physician if I claimed to have the plague again.”
“Uninterrupted time for what?”
“That’s neither here nor there. We, if you’ve forgotten, were discussing what I could do with the gift God gave me.”
“So we were.” Seth’s eyes turned distant for a moment before he blinked and focused on his mother again, his lips curving ever so slightly. “I have a thought, and one that revolves around your above-average interest in pirates.”
Louisa blinked right back at him. “Should I assume that thought revolves around me using my God-given gift to become a pirate?”
“I doubt any son would want their mother to become a pirate.”
“Then exactly what kind of thought have you had?”
“That you should start compiling all the information you’ve gathered over the years on pirates.
You did, after all, insist on bringing a rather large box filled with your notes about pirates on this mad flight to find Norma Jean on the chance those notes might help us find that island she’s heading to.
” He smiled. “The pirate information you’ve gathered would make an exceptional history book. ”
“Writing a history book sounds tedious,” Louisa said before she tapped a finger against her chin.
“With that said, though, I wouldn’t be opposed to using all the pirate knowledge I’ve garnered over the years to write a juicy tale about a specific pirate—fiction, of course—and where the pirate’s name would be Pierre, since I do adore that name. ”
Pierre, who was currently sitting on a perch in front of a window, having dug her talons into Louisa’s shoulder when she’d realized she might be left behind in Chicago and hadn’t let go until she’d been on a train, began bobbing up and down at the mention of her name.
“Argh, matey! To the gallows, to the gallows. Argh,” Pierre prattled, earning one of Louisa’s fond looks in return.
“What a brilliant girl you are, Pierre,” Louisa cooed. “I only taught you the word gallows last night, along with—”
“Rum all around,” Pierre interrupted.
Louisa grinned. “I did not teach you anything about rum, although . . .” Her eyes went a touch distant, but only for a few seconds before she tilted her head.
“Since Pierre mentioned rum, and now all sorts of rum-related tidbits are flashing to mind, tell me this. Did you know that Blackbeard kept a large supply of rum on one of his lairs located in the Outer Banks, a spot I’ve always wanted to explore, given all the ships that have gone down around that area, and ships that my research has led me to believe were ladened with all sorts of treasures? ”
“I did not, but that type of information would be extremely helpful to adventurers who pursue treasure for a living and who would certainly appreciate an accurate history book on that subject,” Seth pointed out.
“But again, that type of writing is tedious and not nearly as exciting as writing a pirate adventure, complete with a dashing heroine who would be named Pierre, and a dashing hero named Jack, along with a darling parrot named, er . . .” Louisa’s voice trailed off before she began taking a marked interest in the scenery rolling past the Pullman’s window.
Annaliese’s lips curved. “Louisa,” she began, “have you actually written a pirate novel with a heroine named Pierre?”
“I had to have something to occupy my time when I was recovering from one dreadful illness after another,” Louisa admitted.
Seth took a step closer to his mother. “You never told me you’d written a book.”
“I’m sure you’ll be surprised to learn that I’ve actually written seventeen novels to date.”
Seth’s brows slammed together. “Seventeen?”
“I’ve been plagued by a lot of illnesses.”
He plopped down beside his mother on the well-appointed settee she was sitting on. “Sounds to me like you’ve been plagued with a need for uninterrupted time to write, and you developed all these illnesses in order to obtain that time.”
“You really are far too smart for your own good, dear, and far less obtuse than I thought you were,” Louisa grumbled before she crossed her arms over her chest and took to looking rather grumpy.
“Since it appears that you’ve found me out, and before you start throwing a barrage of questions my way, know this—after you and the girls got older and began living your own lives, and then your father began increasing the hours he spent away from home, selling that more productive version of the reaper your great-uncle McCormick invented that made the first McCormick fortune, I needed something to occupy my time. ”
Seth placed his hand over Louisa’s. “I’m beginning to get the distinct impression that as my sisters and I got older, you came to the erroneous conclusion that none of us wanted to spend time with you.”
“It’s the plight of every mother, dear. We cease to be the most important person in our children’s lives as they age, and that’s how it should be.
You became consumed with your inventions, Betsy and Hester began preferring to spend time in each other’s company, gossiping about gentlemen, and Norma Jean, even as a child, was more than independent and didn’t seem to need me by the time she turned five. ”
“I always assumed you enjoyed being by yourself as you never made a point to pursue an active social life, something our standing in Chicago would have certainly allowed you to do,” Seth said.
“I did enjoy an active social life years ago, until I lost many of my friends when I made the mistake of volunteering to participate in Mrs. Daniel Adler’s house production of Romeo and Juliet.
I, of course, memorized everyone’s lines after I read it through one time, something Mrs. George Patterson just had to go and point out to everyone assembled at the Adler house, which then left everyone concluding I was an odd duck.
” Louisa shook her head. “People don’t enjoy being around odd ducks, and after I didn’t have you or the girls to occupy my time, I made do by making friends with the characters I created in my head.
They have kept me busy over the past handful of years. ”
“You don’t need to make do with fictional characters, Mother. Now that I know you don’t enjoy being alone, I’m more than happy to spend whatever time you’d like to spend with me.”
“Doing what?”
He smiled. “Well, it appears as if you have a thirst for adventure, so we can certainly travel more. I’ll also speak with Father and tell him he needs to join us. Besides adventuring, though, I think you might enjoy getting your novels into print. That would be an adventure in and of itself.”
Louisa waved that aside. “I already penned a query to a publisher two years ago. He replied with a note that stated he wasn’t interested in any pirate stories written by a woman.”
“There’s more than one publisher in the world, Mother, and the publisher you contacted simply sounds as if he lacks vision when it comes to pirate stories.
We’ll just have to look elsewhere, perhaps narrowing our search to publishers who are looking for women authors, ones who’ll pave the way for more women authors in the future. ”
“I’m sure those types of publishers are few and far between.”
Seth nodded. “I already discovered that after I inquired with one of my publisher friends if he’d be interested in publishing Annaliese’s work on insects.
Unfortunately, I got a we’re not interested response from him right before we left Chicago.
He then added that publishers only want to purchase work they know they can sell, which I assumed meant male authors are considered more of a sure thing than female ones. ”
Annaliese’s stomach once again seemed to fill with the flutter of butterfly wings. “You asked your publishing friend if he’d be interested in my insect knowledge?”
“I did, but I wasn’t going to say anything until I heard back from him, and then decided, after his no, that there really wasn’t a point in mentioning it to you—until it slipped out in this conversation.”
“It was still very kind of you to reach out on my behalf.”
“Fat lot of good it did, although . . .” His words trailed away as he cocked his head to the side, considered Annaliese for a long moment, then nodded. “You have a lot of money.”
“True” was the only thing she could think to say to that, having no idea where Seth was going with the conversation.
“And people have always found you odd because you have interests that are different from what most ladies pursue.”
“True again.”
“Honestly, Seth,” Louisa exclaimed. “Was I such a delinquent mother that you don’t know that calling Annaliese odd is quite beyond the pale?”
“I didn’t call her odd,” Seth countered. “I said other people find her odd, just as people obviously find you odd as well, but to return to a thought I just had about a potential way to get both of you published . . .” He caught Annaliese’s eye. “You could start your own publishing house.”
“I know nothing about publishing.”
“You didn’t know anything about being a decorum instructor either, but you’ve done remarkably well teaching students the rudimentary skills of civility.”