33. Sam Clover Hall #2
Now that her point regarding the séance had been accomplished, Jane began a recitation of their summer activities.
Mariah had been disappointed not to travel overseas, Jane reported, but the presence of so many lively young people at their friend’s “cottage” in Newport had compensated for the loss.
Taking her cue, Mariah then began for the sisters’ benefit a detailed account of each young person, lively or otherwise, describing family residences, connections, and notable virtues.
Rosetta ate her soup woodenly, barely lifting her eyes from the spoon, seeming more oppressed by the minute.
And Clementine hardly ate at all; she glanced occasionally at Mariah, but for the most part she stared blankly at her sister.
I confess that I missed some part of Mariah’s recital because I was distracted by Principa, Norbert’s thew, who had appeared in the doorway for only a moment before slipping back into the corridor.
Apparently she had been ordered to wait there, but she could not seem to help peeking in every few seconds, as if anxious not to miss even a moment of the dull conversation.
The diners had drifted into a moment of silence, as Mariah stared out the window and Jane finished chewing.
None of the others seemed disposed to fill the welling silence.
“I wouldn’t have thought it possible,” Jane finally said.
“But they claim that the staircases were transported here, whole, from Ulvern. They are marble.” She paused.
“I’ve said to Norbert many times that I can’t understand the fascination with marble stairs, having seen so many older houses in which the steps depress with age, like butter on a hot day. ”
Rosetta had stopped eating. She stared down at her lap, hands clenched somewhere out of sight.
She seemed to be fighting back tears. Across from her, Clem’s face was cold stone.
She stared expressionlessly at a point on the wall, perhaps at the whaling spears.
What had happened? Perhaps Jane had said something very cutting about the sisters’ parents, or Mariah had uttered one too many of her little cruelties.
No one else seemed in the least troubled.
But then a twitching movement from Rosetta alerted me, and I had a sudden suspicion of what ailed her.
I did what no one else there could do: I ducked beneath the table.
It was as I’d suspected. Simeon’s hand was engaged in silent, steady battle in Rosetta’s lap, digging insistently into the yellow poplin while Rosetta’s hands ineffectually attempted to claw it away.
He was detestable! He was incorrigible! I hurled the greatest volley of noxious dread upon him that I could, and his hand paused for just a moment in its battle for Rosetta’s leg, only long enough for her to push it off briefly before he resumed his licentious assault.
I was horrified. But I was also useless.
What was everyone else doing? Mariah had kicked off her shoes, displaying a pair of rather risqué stockings that came only to her ankles.
Jane sat immobile in a mountain of skirts.
Norbert was tapping his left heel, impatient but not terribly bothered.
Clem was holding a fork in her lap, clenching it hard, the skin straining at her knuckles.
Clem knew! Yes, Clem had somehow divined what was happening.
I sent her a surge of encouragement. As if in response, she suddenly released the fork.
For a moment the fork floated above her knees, and then it shuttled under the table at incredible speed, burying itself in the tangled knot of skirts and hands in Rosetta’s lap.
Simeon screamed. It was an unpleasant sound, shrill and exaggerated.
He pushed back his chair and stood abruptly, holding his hand out in front of him.
The fork was buried in the back of his hand.
Blood trickled out of the four puncture points in a revolting manner.
I looked elsewhere at once, feeling a strange combination of triumph and disgust.
Mariah and Jane issued piercing echoes of Simeon’s scream. Rather theatrically, Mariah covered her face with her hands. Principa hovered behind Simeon silently, an anguished expression on her face. “Good heavens, Simeon,” Norbert exclaimed, rising also to his feet. “What is this?”
Simeon, breathing heavily, did not reply. Instead, he reached out with his left hand and yanked the fork out of his flesh. He was panting as he reached across the table and dropped the fork onto Clem’s plate, splattering the cream sauce and scattering the peas. “I believe this is yours,” he said.
Clem looked up at him mildly. “How on earth did my fork end up in your hand?” She blinked. “Dear me, your hand must have been wandering quite a bit.” She stood up and leaned forward, her eyes wilting with concern. “Are you very badly hurt? That looks like quite a serious injury.”
For a moment, Simeon seemed about to explode.
His cheeks were red, his eyes bulged, and his jaw worked to form words.
Ah, this was a delight! What a pleasure to see his calm shattered.
Then, with effort, he quelled the storm.
He reached out, took his napkin, and wrapped it around his hand.
“It’s nothing,” he said, his voice disdainful. “I am fine.”
“But how did this happen?” Norbert demanded.
Simeon didn’t say anything. He sat back down heavily, well away from the table.
Clem, still standing, glanced across at her sister. “Ah, I suspect Simeon may have been trying to entertain Rosetta with a few lighthearted enchantments, and one of them went awry. Was that it?” She smiled. “Perhaps you need a little more practice?”
“No doubt,” Simeon said gruffly. Jane and Norbert stared at him, perplexed. Mariah, apparently having overcome her dismay, looked coolly at her brother and seemed entirely unsurprised. Principa placed a hand on Simeon’s arm, and he shook her off impatiently.
Now, in the relative silence, I heard a sudden clattering and clanging from outside, a ringing of metal upon metal. Heavenly spirits, it was Erauso, rushing to the defense rather too late.
“I think the sight of blood has discomposed Rosetta,” Clem observed, coming around the table toward her sister. “Rosie,” she said, placing a hand on her shoulder. “Perhaps we should go.”
Rosetta nodded. “Yes,” she said weakly. “I don’t feel well at all.”
“Thank you very much for the lunch,” Clem said, supporting Rosetta by slipping an arm around her waist.
“But we haven’t even had dessert,” Jane protested.
A distant gonging sound reached them, sounding suspiciously like wood striking metal, though only Mariah seemed to take notice. “Mother,” she said.
“I must get some air,” Rosetta said with difficulty.
Clem glanced at the window. “Over here,” she said, leading Rosetta to the open window and pushing it wide open. “Esperar,” she called out through the window. From there she could see Erauso, pausing abruptly as commanded in his ferocious climb up the long drive.
“What did you say?” Norbert asked, aghast.
“Little by little, Rosie,” Clem said, ignoring him.
Rosetta took a deep breath, her hand clinging to Clem’s shoulder. She nodded briefly.
“I said ‘respirar,’ Uncle,” Clem replied mildly. “I’m urging my sister to breathe.”
Norbert blinked suspiciously. Simeon had finally accepted Principa’s ministrations, and was holding his hand out for her inspection.
Thankfully, the spirit thew was so wholly occupied with Simeon that she had no attention to spare for the sisters or the armored creature charging up the gravel drive.
“Come, come—do stay. We’ll eat dessert on the lawn.
” Jane had recovered her composure and now seemed to regard Simeon’s injury with some annoyance.
“Simeon will promise not to juggle the utensils, and I’ll call for the spun sugar.
Simeon, get that properly wrapped before you rejoin us.
” She looked at him disapprovingly as she rose serenely to her feet.
Simeon nodded briefly, and he allowed Principa to take him by his good hand out of the room. No doubt it was his thoughts that had so agitated her earlier, but was it concern or jealousy that prompted her distress? She fawned over him in such an exaggerated manner that I couldn’t be sure.
Jane had taken hold of the situation in the dining room. Leading the way out to the back lawn, she didn’t even stop to see if the others had acceded to her wishes. Mariah sailed along in her wake, and Norbert waited for the Quinn sisters, still frowning in perplexity.
If Clem was displeased, she didn’t show it. Holding Rosetta by the hand, she led her carefully out of the nautical dining room with one last, unreadable glance at the whaling spears. I wondered at her restraint, for in her place I would have chosen one of these over the fork.