Elizabeth and Zenobia by Jessica Miller

Author:Jessica Miller
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: The Text Publishing Company
Published: 2016-07-25T16:00:00+00:00

7

TOUR MALINE

I was sitting at the dinner table, looking at a plate of stringy cabbage stew, but in my head I was still at the cemetery. I was still kneeling before the headstone, staring at the words etched across it.

‘Tourmaline,’ I had said softly to myself. ‘Adored sister of Henry. Tourmaline. Sister of Henry Murmur. But Henry Murmur is my—’

I had felt a light hand on my shoulder. ‘Did you know your father had a sister?’ asked Miss Clemency.

I had shaken my head. I didn’t know.

And yet I wanted to know—there was so much I desperately wanted to know.

Who was Tourmaline?

How had she died?

And why had she been kept a secret?

I remembered the dedication at the front of Father’s book. I remembered the nursery with its two narrow beds. One for Father and the other, of course, for Tourmaline. I remembered, too, the uneasy feeling that had stuck to my skin ever since I first went in there.

Was it Tourmaline that was giving the nursery its haunted feeling?

Was Father haunted by her, too?

I looked down the table to Father. His cabbage stew sat uneaten. He was too busy talking to raise the loaded fork in his hand to his mouth.

‘A very productive day,’ he was saying to Miss Clemency. ‘My fieldwork has yielded gratifying results, and I am pleased to say I will shortly be able to add several new species to the Caryophyllaceae family.’

Mother had never tolerated Father’s talk about plants. But Miss Clemency nodded eagerly and, talking with her, father looked happy.

But I couldn’t feel happy for him.

I didn’t know that my father had a sister. He had never told me. He never told me anything. Never paid any attention to me. Hardly noticed me at all.

Suddenly, everything about Father—the way he was talking, the way he was waving his fork about—made me angry. I had never felt anger like this before. It rolled over me like a wave. It left my knees wobbling and knocked the breath out of my lungs.

Before I could think about what I was doing I slammed my knife against my plate. Hard. Cabbage stew spattered the tabletop, and the ringing sound of silver on china made everyone around the table jump.

Father placed his fork, quite deliberately, next to his plate and looked up at me.

He had noticed me now.

Miss Clemency had, too. And, from her darkened corner, even Mrs Purswell was staring.

They looked at me expectantly, like they were waiting for me to say something.

I turned to Zenobia, feeling panicked. Now that I had Father’s attention, I didn’t know what to do with it.

‘Go on,’ she said. Her voice was almost gentle. ‘Ask him.’

‘Tell me about Tourmaline,’ I said. My voice came out louder than I expected it to.

Father didn’t ask me to repeat myself and he didn’t lean forward in his chair to hear me better.

‘Not now, Elizabeth,’ he said.

‘Not now,’ I asked, ‘or not ever?’

‘I said, not now.’

‘I may be speaking out of turn, Dr Murmur,’ said Miss Clemency, and

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