H C Turk, page 21
"Oh, and everso, lass, with your extreme sensitivity, I am apologizing. But what Fm saying is that Fve no idea how to interest you in things of a lady. My employer, the Lady Rathel, is offering you a most wondrous harpsichord, which you rejected, and I'd be showing you work with the needle, but you refused, and you've no interest in fashion and are saying you've none in marriage, so what kind of lady will you ever be?"
"Oh, Elsie, you sinners are so, so appreciative of your own ways, as though God made no other humans, and the world is your marketplace. Yet a person such as yourself, with no wealth, is like an animal in that you're but a device to implement the Rathel's whims-an upstairs packhorse. Does some subtle, social reason exist for your being less worthy of Rathel's place than she?"
"But you're thinking too much of social things, lass. God loves us simple folk as well as the wealthy, and has made us sensible enough to appreciate what He has given us. My life is not the finest as far as luxury, but it's happy I am, and understanding I am of how much worse I could be. I had been worse afore coming to this household-and much worse Fd be in the woods living like an animal with no shelter or law. And because my place is not the best, I'm wishing my friends better than me. I am always hoping the best for you, young Alba."
"Your generosity and kindliness I cherish, Elsie, but you mistakenly believe that our types of satisfaction should be equal. Though I am satisfied with my own class of person the same as you, I would also allow you and Rathel your particular living. I wish you all the best, Elsie, for you are not only friend but virtually family. Nevertheless, I understand that no forest life would please you. I allow Londoners the life you would have, why can you not accept my given nature?"
Not replying with her usual verbosity as to my deluded, wilderness thinking, Elsie responded instead with "tears.
"You've never called me family before," she blubbered, then shuffled away her burden of sentiment as though an emotional packhorse.
My mouth fell open like a sinners' mechanical trap for flies, and I could not reply until Elsie was away from my hearing.
"Ah, you flipping sinners are a sensitive lot," I muttered, and sought an onion to attack in catharsis.
"But, Miss Alba, your humor is extreme. What life could be better than that of a lady in London? Would you be a commoner on a farm?"
Eric's cautious vacation from me had ended. As though disgusted with Rathel's treachery, I did not concern myself with her ability to schedule Eric and me so that we were often alone, now on a day when Natwich was not due, the male and I walking in the garden without the burden or benefit of chaperone. How coincidental of this household that none of its members was out of doors but the lass and her visitor. Rathel, however, was surely observant, peering through some glass wall to gauge her success. I had no intention of seeking her gaze, fearful of seeing bliss ooze from her pores like a hot sinner's sweat, a failed suitor's blood.
"Yes, and I say again, sir, that I do not care to be a lady in London. For that position's replacement, I might choose to be an average member of God's humans in a wild land away from chamber pots and metal utensils for stabbing dead meat and mad gentlemen."
We touched sycamore bark, viewed a vining grey-bush, stepped upon the path's imprecise stones, one of us avoiding that tiny, nasty bridge. This late in the season, most of the trees' leaves had fallen and been raked away by Theodosia and a certain witch. Though I smelled a late and mild winter coming, I made no mention of this sensing, thereby avoiding a wild form of
explication the sinning male would not readily accept.
My woolen dress with sleeves to the wrists was all I required for this weather. Eric, not to be climatically bested by a girl, had left his overcoat within the house, thpugh his skin had a bluish tinge. Such are the travails of the virile sinner.
"I as well can understand, Miss Alba, that being in wild land might be adventurous for a time, but for a life? Are not the advanced ways of our city superior to a coarse life without implements? Devices are made to better our lives, not burden them. Chairs and beds give us comfort where reclining upon stones cannot."
"Lizards recline on stones, sir. Humans in the wilds have sense enough to find soft segments of the world to provide them adequate comfort. Excessive comfort is the slothful way of Londoners."
"And sturdy homes to protect us from paining weather, and carriages to provide us with transport."
"And to carry all our needless implements about."
"And Continental gardens to supply the edible rarities that some of us require."
That rejoinder stopped me like a lance's stabbing. Intensely I stared at Eric for some explanation of his commentary, as though he were the witch, not I. And I could smell a smirk in him, though he looked to the trees as though having some especial fascination with poison oak.
"How dare you, sir, insult me by developing a sense of humor akin to my own."
"My, my, miss, have you noticed the fine crop of poison sumac growing this season? Surely some person in our world exists who considers this plant a delicacy."
"The Greeks have gods who curse young men of comical discourse beyond their station. I suggest you restrict your imagination to the construction of jails for boys away from home without their parents' consent. My understanding is that these criminals abound in our London, and must be quashed before they multiply like cockroaches in the basement."
"And I say, miss, that prisons are another of our useful implements. What life could we have if such wanton criminals as you mention were allowed to roam freely through every library and garden in their path?"
Tve done this to you, have I not?" I returned with unbelievable solemnity while staring at Eric, who continued to view limbs. "Prior to my wretched influence, you were an average, arrogant sinner. A few years in the wilds would improve your haughty disposition, sir."
"Oh, and we are in the wilds again," he remarked, glimpsing me peripherally, and we began walking anew.
"Yes, in the wilds where we might live better by concerning ourselves with God's products of Earth and animal rather than our own conceits."
Having been quietly contemplative, nodding in agreement, Eric turned acute as he quickly looked to me, his thoughts made pellucid by his reply.
"I have been to the seashore."
I understood. I understood that he had visited the seashore and been moved by the wild ocean, the natural smell, the overwhelming mass.
"What a tremendous force the sea is, Eric-would you agree? All the endless water of such a space as to render England meager. And the complexity! Beneath the ocean's surface is a second geography populated by animals and plants both enormous and unique."
"Yes, yes," he whispered, and we halted to lean near as though sharing a secret we needed to retain. "No land creature is as great as a whale-not even English cathedrals. And what living thing could be more wondrous than a sea horse-have you seen one, miss?"
"Etchings, I have seen a lovely etching of a sea horse."
"In actuality I have examined one," he asserted eagerly, so decent as to share this great event. "One in a jar, not alive but perfectly preserved, yet indescribable. Indescribable."
"Coquinas," I added, looking to Eric's face to denote his interest as I matched his revelation and thereby increased our mutual wonder. "Occasionally upon the beach of Man's Isle near Maughold Head I would find coquinas. Do you know of them?"
"I do not, but I would-please!"
"Tiny paired shells," I described softly, importantly, holding my finger and thumb a nail's width apart. "As though a miniature clam, containing a miniscule, unseen creature that propels the joined shells into the sand and away from the seeker, away from one's digging feet."
"Do they bite or snap at one?"
"Not at all! Harmless and therefore not to be harmed. But lovely to see and fascinating to seek and touch, then leave undamaged and alone."
"Mountains," Eric mentioned. "You are correct regarding the sea's second geography. On the ocean's floor, at the water's greatest depth, are mountains taller than any of land."
"This I readily believe considering all the other wonders of God's oceans. And though the great mountains mentioned would be an extraordinary sight, I'd be partial to those wet and wonderful animals."
"I have noticed in your speaking, miss, that you've a special fondness for animals wet or dry."
"I do, Eric, because my people have always believed that humans are a type of animal, in that the mutual aspects of body are similar."
"The reference to 'your people' is not new, Miss Alba, and I wonder of your meaning. Are you of some different nationality? This is not readily accepted considering your excellent speaking, though you do have a bit of the dissimilar accent."
"Yes, 'tis true that I'm a foreigner in coming from Man's Isle, a land so alien as to be seen from greater England on a clean day. As for my people, I refer to my mother and our friends who lived on this island a life simpler in goods than yours. Some folk would consider us animals ourselves in that we chose to exist without a raft of forged implements."
"But as the Bible tells us, miss, the difference between person and beast is that animals lack the immortal soul that only humans possess."
"Apart from the Bible's lessons, I have always lived according to those laws of God as presented by His Earth, not His scholars; in that within the wilds, one finds immortal laws and God their Maker everywhere, always. Being in that manner subject to God's glories and His rules simultaneously, I live my life as taught by my superiors with the view that animals are special in their simple honesty, though of course inferior because they kill one another, this surely God's manifestation of their being without soul. Therefore, do not humans behave as though without immortal spirit by emulating animalistic murder?"
"What became of the whales, miss?" Eric returned. "The wonders of the sea seem to have been replaced by philosophy. And within your thinking, did I not understand you to say that we humans are animals yet emulate animal behavior? Have I found a paradox not intended?"
"Sir, I remain unaware of whether you deliberately discovered a paradox I did not intend. My meaning is that humans have a similar nature to animals. We are animals in the way we shit, not the way we think."
Eric had no comment, for he had been struck by Satan in the form of a devastating word. Of course, even a pseudo-social witch understood that term to be indecent. God forgive me for my error, and Eric, too, if able; for although with a riotous visage, he remained completely silent. Quite red as well, as though a natural tart, his cool blueness made hot by my speaking, Eric doubtless attempting to convince himself that, no, he had not heard such a word from Miss Alba. And if he had, how was he to respond? Recalling that first instance of my shaming him, I quickly moved to end Eric's discomfort.
"Needless to add is the fact that animals do not trample human environs in order to build their houses thereupon, nor systematically destroy people for their hides and flesh. Perhaps one might say they lack the ability, and do not because they cannot. But as well I might posit that animals lack the . . . spirit ... for such destruction."
"I see, miss," Eric muttered, looking anywhere but toward me.
"Therefore, you might understand that I have moral argument against not only killing animals, but enslaving them for selfish human purposes."
"And, um, what of pets, miss?" Eric replied with an improved tone.
"I would beg pardon of your query, sir."
"Pets, miss. I wonder of your beliefs toward pets considering your thoughts of other animals."
"Sir, whereas I certainly have heard this term before, I lack full understanding of its defining. What, pray tell, is a 'pet'?"
Appearing alive and with me again, Eric explained: "Why, a pet, Miss Alba, is a creature who is kept in one's home for the benefit of himself and the people there. These animals are often the finest of companions."
"Oh, I now comprehend. Prior to my arrival here, the Rathel had cats in the household likely for the very purposes you state."
"My mother has a most exquisite cat from Asia, fully regal and of the purest white-even moreso than your lovely skin, Miss Alba," Eric mentioned. Then, aware of his blunder-his lust-the boy blushed and stammered through a breath before attempting to continue.
"Oh, and I am sorry, miss, in that . . . I, I . . ."
"Sir, I promise not to say shit again if you vow not to term me lovely."
Although his mouth then formed a proper shape for speaking, scarcely could respiration commence.
"Now that our mutual embarrassment is ended and forgotten, perhaps we might return to our conversation regarding pets," I said while viewing the bare lim&s above us. "I mentioned cats. You described one in particular. Currently I say nothing while awaiting your words to return."
"Well, and, yes, miss. I, uh, I-and my father has a parrot."
"Which is?" I asked, fulfilling our agreement by saying nothing of pulchritude or feces.
"A parrot is a bird from the South American continent, the size of a falcon with a curved beak and the most beautiful red and yellow feathers."
"More beautiful than my plumage, sir?" I asked coyly, looking to Eric, who could not view me, unable to see through that plumage of redness on his face (as though a feathery tart), the witch feeling true but minor guilt not for the embarrassment, but for failing to resist the verbal temptation, for depleting her pact.
"The bird sounds lovely, Eric," I said, attempting to rectify my crass speaking. "I did not, however, notice any such extravagant flying thing that day within your home."
My, the witch brings another plague; may as well have said shit again. That day within his home was a time of Eric's passion, not his pets, and well to be forgotten by him. Therefore, I attempted another comment that might remove the edifice of shame I had erected between us, currently a cathedral in size and approaching the bulk of a mountain, underwater or otherwise.
"And you, sir, with your parents so luxuriously endowed with pets, have you some welcome animal of the type?"
"I do, miss," he stated with a vague, attempted friendliness, a disposition increasing with Eric's continuing words. "I have a dog that is perhaps superior to a brother, for Randolph is most loyal and honest. And I can see your meaning. Yes-his nature is such that he seems to have a soul, a spirit of generosity and concern as full as any person's. Perhaps his is another type of soul, one God has seen fit to describe not in His Bible, but in the world as you mentioned. Perhaps animals have souls lacking intellection, though not permanence, which quit their bodies along with their lives. What do you think of my speaking, Miss Alba? It seems so fine a notion, and fitting. Perhaps the soul of an animal goes not to be with God to exist after death with people of His image, but remains within the animal portion of the universe, which is the Earth whereupon God placed them, the Earth God made for humans only for their lives, but provides His animals forever. Does this seem sensible to you, Miss Alba? Miss Alba?"
He had to repeat my name, for there was no ability within me to respond. There was no apparent life in my countenance, for I was static and breathless. Then in a swoon that frightened Eric, I bent at the knees and waist to cover my face with my skirt, hiding from a revelation to affect me as though the sight of God Himself, hiding my senses so I could neither hear nor see further, for I was filled with enlightenment and could bear no added perception. Completely filling me was Eric's idea that we soulless creatures had a permanent part in the universe, as though our aspect of glorifying God and loving Earth was so valued by Him that He would allow His world to retain our essence. Therefore, I would not be burned one day to exist forever as ashes, but upon my demise would become as though an idea, the disembodied kindliness and intended generosity inherent to decent folk. Thereafter, I would be on and of the Earth like an essence: I would be with my mother, who since her death had existed equally. I would be with Mother again, her form the great value of her living that had never left Earth, left existence. As I leapt upward to run away, fearful of my state, I loved the Lord God as never I had before, in my selfishness thanking Him with my life not for my life, but for its greatest love, my mother. Before running to be alone with God and my mother who was my mother's love, so choked that I could scarcely breathe, I found myself able to thank another entity, one so excellent as to be unworthy of further shame.
"A most wonderful idea, Eric. No idea could be so superb," I whispered, and entered the house to stumble upstairs with Elsie's aid, the servant finding me distressed and wordless in the corridor. But I could explain to her no more than I could weep, yet no more deeply could I feel. From that moment hence-from Eric's idea proceeding-I gained another sinning friend perhaps no more immortal than I.
Fourteen
Rathel expressed interest in my swooning if only because I had frightened her victim from the property, the lady not likely fearful for my health. I told her that the unclean meat in her system so emitted grease from her pores that I was made to faint.
Having well met the lad the next morning, Rathel departed on her business. How unfortunate having to be the honest citizen instead of the vengeful murderess. I imagined her crawling outside the library during tutoring to find a weak spot in the wall for extended listening, her vigil one of monitoring the increasing relationship. No talk of murder would she hear, however, for I was certain to allow no further, foolish revelations of Rathel's intending to vanquish the lad with me as her medium. Therein lay only more investigation by a magistrate whom I surmised from the first to be cunning and competent, and willing to execute his authority by executing me. Spies on the border of my education would only hear of geography and whales.
"I do apologize for not being more of an aid to you the previous day, Miss Alba, but I could not determine the nature of your affliction."
"Have no unease, Mr. Denton, since my attack was only the passion of God's understanding as delivered by your own enlightened reasoning."
