Putting on Airs

by Ivy Brooke

  "Come now!" Mr. Archer shouted again.

  She began to feel dizzy as she let her form melt into a crawling position. The roof shingles heated up against her palms as she inched along, the awning yawning and creaking with increasing weakness. It seemed an eternity of smoke until she stretched out her hands and felt Mr. Archer's fingers lock with hers. He pulled her closer, then hooked his hands under her arms to pull her off completely. Immediately after, the awning collapsed, the fire consuming it. Clarice embraced Imogene so hard, that she felt convinced any smoke remaining in her lungs was squeezed out.

  The water supply was finally coming in the appropriate quantities to subdue the fire, and especially with the condition of the ladies, Mr. Archer did not feel obliged to remain and assist. Mr. Ashcroft caught up with them by the end of the street and offered to procure a carriage, but Imogene insisted they walk, desiring the fresh air to thoroughly purge her lungs.

  The walk was slow and silent, but for Clarice's diminishing sobs and continued apologies.

  "If you knew I was not there, you would not have gone," she said.

  "It is not your fault," Imogene tried to assure her. "You had gotten lost in the crowds. After all, there was still someone in there."

  "Poor, dear Mrs. Jenkins...if I had looked to see if she followed me..."

  "Enough," Mr. Archer said. "Do not blame yourself, Clarice. All is well now." He reached his arm across to where Clarice stood on the other side of Imogene, putting his arm around both of them. "Everyone is well. There is nothing to fear or feel sorry for."

  Imogene reported nothing of the incident to her sister. But as she had previously promised to give an account of the bonfire experience, she told what happened up until the burning inn. She took a short bath as soon as they returned to the cottage, to dispel the soot stains, then went directly after to bed. Clarice thanked Imogene for her attempted service to herself, and for her successful rescue of her friend Mrs. Jenkins. To her own surprise, Imogene burst into a laugh.

  "What is it?"

  The laughter began to shake her all over, releasing all the tension of the day. She calmed herself enough to say, "You...You stayed in the inn because the fire made you nervous." Her laughter erupted further, and she clamped her hand over her mouth in an attempt to stifle it.

  It took a moment for Clarice to absorb the initial shock of her friend's sudden laughter, then as she realized the irony, she joined in to laugh as well, until tears of merriment streamed down their faces, dissolving every last grain of fear remaining in the pits of their stomachs.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO

  The following morning, just after breakfast, Imogene located a servant to pass her letter to for mailing, and at the same moment, the servant was seeking her out to announce that she had a visitor. Imogene thought it strange that anyone should visit her in a strange city, and directed herself to the parlor immediately. Mrs. Jenkins stood there, already conversing with Clarice, leaning on a cane with her ankle wrapped in a bandage. She was overjoyed to see Imogene walk in the room, and hobbled as quickly as she could to greet her.

  "Ms. Cartwright!" she exclaimed. "Ms. Archer has informed me of your name, and I hear she's told you that I'm Mrs. Jenkins, and I simply had to meet you to thank you!"

  "Please sit," Imogene said, directing her to an empty chair.

  "Ms. Archer had offered me a seat as well, but I simply could not sit until I could see you and thank you." She sat herself in a chair, barely taking her eyes off Imogene. "Thank you so much for helping me from that building; I don't know what would have become of me! I could not believe when I saw someone coming through the window, just when I thought I would choke on that smoke. I thought at first it may have been an angel ‘directing me to the light', as they say, and when I heard you call for Clarice, I was sure you must have been looking for her. I thought you would run back out, and rightfully so, as it was a horrible situation for someone as young as yourself to be in, but when you helped me up, I just could not believe my good fortune that you came to find me!"

  Imogene could not believe the rate at which the words were pouring out of the woman's mouth, and tried to keep her amusement in check. "It really was not any trouble, Mrs. Jenkins. Being in there already, I could not in good conscience leave you behind."

  "I simply could not believe it. And of all the able-bodied men being down in that street, you were the one to come up!"

  "That was my discretion," Imogene said, trying to defend Mr. Archer. "I did not think the awning would support a grown man, and there was no other admittance into the building."

  "Well, I really could not believe my good fortune. Lord, listen to me speaking of good fortune when the inn was burnt down!" She laughed. "But it really was good fortune; I certainly am not one to go down with the ship!"

  "Do you have a place to stay?" Clarice asked. "The inn was your home."

  "My brother is a fisherman near the coast, and has invited me to stay with him and his wife and help out with the housework until the inn is reconstructed. She just had her first baby, so it is certainly a good time for them to have a little extra help around." Then, with barely even a second to catch her breath, she changed the subject. "I do hope your dress was not completely spoiled in that," she said to Imogene. "You are dressed so fine now, it must have been a fine dress, and it may have been ruined on my account."

  Imogene could not contain her laughter, and released a slight chuckle. "The state of my dress is hardly important in comparison to your life, Mrs. Jenkins. My dress's state has by no means been weighing on my mind."

  "If you entrust it to me, I shall clean it up back to new. I am fine with washing out gowns; it is how I became housekeeper of the inn. There is not any stain I cannot get out of any cloth. Why, I remember one time a young child went tree-climbing and got sap all over his trousers, and I got every bit out!"

  "In that case, I would not entrust my dress to anyone less."

  "Fine! That is fine indeed! It is the least I can do to repay you. Would you imagine that when I first woke this morning, I thought to offer you a free stay at the inn! A stay at the inn! Why, there is no inn! I could not believe my own ridiculousness at the thought, and I rather laughed, and my brother thought I had gone mad. It was actually his wife's idea that I offer to clean your dress, and it seemed so obvious an idea, and it is rather perfect."

  If a servant had not entered then, Imogene felt certain that Mrs. Jenkins could have gone on talking another full minute. It was a letter from Emmeline, which she had no qualms in opening then and there, as she was sure Clarice would like to hear its contents. And at the mention of her sister, Mrs. Jenkins immediately became curious.

  My dear sister,

  Please come home immediately.

  A lump instantly caught in her throat, and she refrained from reading aloud.

  I am sorry I do not know how to ease into these matters as you do, but you must

  come home at once. Father has fallen sick, and has not been out of bed for three

  days. I am so scared that I can hardly write. Only please come home as soon as

  possible.

  Your sister,

  Emmeline

  Imogene wasted no time in following her sister's instructions. The Archers offered to leave with her, not thinking that she should leave on her own with such distressing news. However, Imogene took pains in insisting that they stay, assuring them that she would ride in company, and knowing how infrequently Mr. Ashcroft delighted in their friendship.

  In spite of the trip's length, Imogene remained awake throughout, anxious for her return home. Fortunately, those she shared the ride with did not expect any conversation from her, although listening to their own helped keep her idle mind occupied.

  Upon arriving at the house, she found no one to greet, but went directly to her father's quarters. She knocked first and announced her presence, and her father bid her enter. She tried not to look alarmed when she saw how pale her father looked, his skin moist with fever, but s
miled and took hold of his hand.

  "If you wanted me home, you only needed to write," she joked feebly.

  He laughed, though it came out rather as a slight cough. His voice strained to ask, "How was Penzance, then?"

  "It was wonderful, father. Without doubt, we must go next year."

  Mr. Cartwright pulled a shaky smile. "How is the sea?"

  "Unbelievable," Imogene replied. "It rocked me to sleep every night."

  Mr. Cartwright nodded, his eyes closing.

  "I am sure you would like to rest now. I will leave you be."

  As he fell back into sleep, Imogene kissed his hand, and the three left the room so he could sleep undisturbed. After a brief search of the house, she found Emmeline in the study with Thomas, and so sat by her sister and took her hands.

  "So tell me," Imogene began. "What is it? How bad is it?"

  "Influenza," Emmeline said. "It got much worse yesterday, and it has not gotten better yet. He has not been able to eat anything since the first day. Was I right to call you back?"

  "Yes, of course. Even if it turned out to be nothing, I would rather be here than not. I hate not knowing what goes on around here."

  "Were you enjoying Penzance?"

  Imogene sighed with a slight smile. "Yes, but it was somewhat of a good time to get away. It was all so...festive...that it was rather tiring me out."

  "Oh..." Emmeline leaned in closer to whisper. "I should warn you, that mother has been thinking that since you would be here, she would invite Mr. Cole—Mr. Henry Cole—to see you."

  "She cannot mean it!" Though even as she said it, she knew her mother's disposition. "Thomas, I hope you do not mind that I beg of you and your wife to spend much of your time here with me, so I am not left alone."

  Thomas awkwardly replied, "Yes, sister. At least, I will try."

  Imogene smiled genuinely since first arriving. "I rather like hearing you call me sister. I like the thought of having such a good brother as you."

  As though on cue, Anthony entered the room. He seemed in a nervous state. At first, he remained near the door. Then he migrated to the fireplace for a moment, then he sat on a chair near his sisters. They all quietly stared at him, waiting for him to speak. He rarely, if ever, spent time with any of them, and so they all expected that he wanted something.

  "How was Penzance?" he asked Imogene.

  "Good..." she replied, her voice rising expectantly at the end.

  "Good. You found it amusing, then?"

  "Yes..."

  "And Clarice? Did she find it amusing?"

  Imogene now knew the source of his coming. "Yes, she did."

  "Did she...Has she ever...said anything about me?"

  Imogene pressed her lips together to hold all remarks in as she shook her head.

  "Oh..." he said dismissively. "Well, you know, I did not really expect that she would. You know, it is good she does not talk about me anymore. Has she grown taller?"

  Imogene shook her head again.

  "She looked different when I last saw her. I thought she looked different." He cleared his throat and sat back in his chair, at ease. "Ms. Cole wrote me the other day to be in her brother's play about a mole."

  "You mean Moliere?"

  "Yes. She said that she would like me to join."

  "Really?"

  "Of course. Well, she said as long as I do not drink any wine while I am there." He forced a laugh. "It was a joke, you know; she is in good humor with me now, so we can joke again. She is very..." Unable to complete his thought, he suddenly said, "Yes, I thought Ms. Archer looked different somehow."

  With that, he abruptly left.

  With a chuckle, Imogene took Thomas's hand and said, "As I was saying, you are a very good, normal brother."

  CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE

  Imogene looked in on her father every day, insisting to the servants that she take his meals up to him. His meals consisted only of dry toast and orange juice, and he would only eat a very small portion of each for her sake. She knew not whether he was able to keep the food down, and he never discussed it. To the best of her ability, she would read aloud from Henry IV: Part Two until he fell back asleep. The doctor came by every day to bleed Mr. Cartwright, which Imogene could not abide being around for, and so Anthony was obliged to be with his father for those moments. Emmeline only had the emotional constitution to visit her father once a day, with Thomas holding her hand all the while. Imogene was not certain how often her mother visited, as she made certain to cross her path as infrequently as possible.

  A week after Imogene's return home, Mrs. Cartwright was good to the promise she had made, as related by Emmeline. Imogene was just finishing up reading a scene to her father when a servant announced the arrival of Mr. Cole, who was waiting for her in the drawing room. Imogene reluctantly closed her book, and with a suppressed whimper, followed the servant to the drawing room. On the way, she asked to have Mr. and Mrs. Butler brought down also, but the servant informed her that they had gone to town with Mrs. Cartwright and Mr. Anthony.

  When she arrived in the drawing room, Mr. Cole stood rigid, staring out the window. Imogene wondered if she could sneak out without his knowing, but decided to get it over with, and gently cleared her throat to get his attention. He turned around, his face firm with determination.

  "Good afternoon, Ms. Cartwright," he said, his voice a method of business.

  "Good afternoon, Mr. Cole," Imogene said, going through the motions. "Would you care to sit down?" In spite of her resolve to let things play out, she stalled: "Perhaps you would like to..."

  "I have some things which need to be said, and I ask that you sit and hear them."

  The determination in his voice almost frightened her, and forced her to sit in silence. She watched him pace in quick, pronounced steps.

  "Your mother had brought to my attention that you are ready for marriage, and as I am of good fortunes and connections, and you yourself are respectable, our alliance would be beneficial to both sides."

  Imogene wondered if he was speaking of marriage or a trade treaty. He ceased his pacing to approach her and regard her sincerely.

  "I understand the importance of a young lady making a good match so as to secure her well being, and as it is my belief that I can provide you with such security, and as my family is rather fond of you, it is advisable that we marry." When Imogene made no reply, he added, "Do you consent?"

  For a moment, Imogene sat in fear of the man, as he seemed fiercely set on the idea, and so much so, that she could not account for it. "I...I thank you, Mr. Cole...Your proposal is no small compliment to me...however, I cannot consent to it."

  His only change was a slight furrow of his brow. "Your mother assured me of its legitimacy."

  "I have no doubt of that, sir, but..." A scoff escaped her. "I cannot think that you would truly prefer me to be your wife." He did not respond. "And...to be perfectly honest, sir..." She tried to maintain appropriate composure. "I cannot meet your caliber, and though I do not doubt that you are an eligible man, you could not quite meet my caliber."

  He started slightly, his head suddenly drawn to the fireplace. He seemed about to say something, but only turned his eyes back to her, his furrow deeper.

  Imogene continued to press the end. "You cannot tell me with sincerity, sir, that you genuinely care for me to any degree."

  Yet his determination seemed unbroken. "Would it not be enough that I would care for your comfort? Would it not be enough for you to receive comfort?"

  She could hardly remain suppressed now. "It might be enough, were I able to feel comfort in your presence, but every time I am near you, I feel nothing but unease. If even my eyes accidentally wander to yours from across the room, I feel like an intruder." She felt her hands shake, so clasped them tightly together. "Quite frankly, sir, I feel in fear of my very life even now." Though truthfully, it was said with rather more anger than fear.

  As soon as she wondered whether his brow could plunge any deeper, his eye
s grew almost frantic, and he mumbled, "Forgive me; I will remove such fear right now," and barely got all the words out before he was out of the room, and soon after, out of the house.

  Imogene released her tensed breath, and let her hands freely tremor. "It is over now," she told herself. "At least it is over now."

  However, Imogene once again underestimated her mother, who upon hearing of the refusal, would not stop scolding her for a full ten minutes before leaving time for her daughter to speak up.

  "He never wanted to marry me, mother, I assure you," Imogene insisted. Then, with sarcasm, she added, "If it would pacify you, you might as well complete the humiliation and pawn me off to his brother Phillip." Though as she finished the statement, she rather hoped to hear her mother consent.

  "I would, were Phillip a choice."

  "If you think I am good enough for Henry, then why not his brother?"

  "His brother is engaged to Ms. Butler, though that is of little matter, as I am beginning to wonder if you are good for anyone at all!"

  Imogene forgot how to breathe for a moment. "Jane? And Phillip? But she never said anything to me; why would she not have written...?"

  "She was waiting until your return," Thomas confessed. "She wanted to tell you in person. But...with your father's illness...she thought it would not be quite so important. She is postponing everything to make you maid of honor."

  Imogene inhaled some air back into her lungs, and breathed out the best smile she could. "That is so sweet of her to think of me. Of course I would be...I would like to visit her. I..." She was again forgetting how to breathe. "I will take a walk out to see her now. After all, I have not been out on a walk since I arrived here; I would rather like some fresh air."