Fanny by Erica Jong

Author:Erica Jong [Jong, Erica]
Language: eng
Format: epub
ISBN: 978-1-4804-3886-6
Publisher: Open Road Media
Published: 2013-09-06T20:44:00+00:00

CHAPTER XI

Containing a most curious Exchange of Letters thro’ which our Fanny learns more concerning the Capriciousness of Destiny than all her Adventures have taught her until now; after which she is summon’d by her one True Love, as the Reader of this most stirring epistolary Chapter shall shortly see.

AND SO I WAITED, as I had promis’d, for Word from Littlehat, wond’ring when I should be summon’d to join Lancelot’s great Sailing and feeling considerable Anxiety for Lancelot’s Fate and the Fate of his Historick Rebellion. Tho’ the Merry Men would scarce speak to me of it, ’twas clear enough that the Rebellion might misfire and Lancelot might swing once more at Tyburn. This Time, the cursed Beam could well dispatch his Soul with Speed, and ne’er again would Lancelot’s lovely Form and Face be seen upon this Globe!

In the Days that follow’d my Meeting with Horatio, Puck, and Francis Bacon, I was nervous as a Cat, awaiting Letters. The other Girls went about their Business, ne’er noticing my Condition, but Kate, with an Enemy’s Attentiveness to all my Griefs (as well as Envy of my Joys) watch’d me most closely. She perceiv’d that I waited for the Post as if ’twere for an Annunciation from an Angel, and she smil’d sourly to herself when a Letter came for me.

Many Letters came, i’faith, but all from Bellars, not Littlehat nor Lancelot. Indeed, Bellars sent me sev’ral Letters each Day—one more pitiful and pleading than the next. It took all my Courage to ignore ’em since they touch’d me to the Core. But Kate, for her part, still had not been summon’d by her mysterious Tradesman, so she conceiv’d a Fear that I would leave the Brothel before her (tho’, in truth, I’d been there so little Time compar’d to her) and this Apprehension made her most grievously envious.

Oft’ she herself would snatch a Letter from Coxtart’s Hands, and carry it up the Stair, then wait at the Door slyly, hoping I would open it in her Presence. I ne’er did so, but her Slyness caus’d me Grief. I worried lest she steal the fateful Letter and I miss Lancelot’s Sailing. But no; she was too much a Coward to play such Pranks. She would rather linger and smirk by my Door than take Fate into her own Hands. Tho’ harden’d by Life in the Brothel, still she was a cowardly Enemy—more inclin’d to hope for Ill-Fortune to claim me, than to be the Author of my Ill-Fortune herself.

“Another Billet Doux, Fanny,” says she, handing me a Letter with Lord Bellars’ Seal.

“What a curious Post-Boy you are, Kate,” says I. “Pray, have you nothing better to do with your Time than deliver my Letters?”

“’Tis the least Service I can perform for me dearest Friend,” says she, mockingly; whereupon she gives me the Letter and flounces away.

I lockt the Door of my Chamber and sat down upon the Bed to read:

Adorable Creature,

Pledged as I am to await the next Costume Ridotto at

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