Into the Suffering City by Bill LeFurgy

Author:Bill LeFurgy [LeFurgy, Bill]
Language: eng
Format: epub
ISBN: 9780578618784
Publisher: High Kicker Books
Published: 2020-04-14T22:00:00+00:00

Sarah stepped into her entry hall, closed the front door, and felt some of the tension racking her body lift. Home—the familiar, solitary domain where she was safe from the world.

Her father had the house custom built and installed all the modern conveniences, including electricity, telephone, and central furnace. He also filled it with fine artworks and furnishings. Just after her father died, her stepmother had a chandelier dripping with garish red crystal installed in the main entry hall. The only change Sarah made after moving back was to have the chandelier removed.

She mounted the grand staircase and went to her dressing room, where she undid her high-button shoes and stripped off her jacket, skirt, shirtwaist, petticoat, and corset cover. Unpeeling her stockings, she noticed they had holes and runs everywhere, as usual. Sarah’s body thanked her as she undid the front laces of her new “long line” corset, which extended awkwardly down the thighs and up the bust. The only good thing about the garment was that it was an improvement over the old swan-bill corset that used steel boning and tight lacing to bend the body into a contorted S profile. Just the thought of it made her back throb even more.

Unpinning her hair, she thought about what Macdonald had said. It was devastating. He was a renowned expert in mental disorders, and his opinion carried great weight.

She knew that she was different, that other people regarded her as odd. But was she slipping into madness? Macdonald had originally shown interest in how her mind worked, but now he believed she had invented an imaginary detective to help her with a deluded investigation. Why? Perhaps the why did not matter. As a well-educated, assertive woman, she was familiar with negative male attention. She had to avoid giving the man any further reason for thinking she was insane.

She slipped out of her drawers and undervest and put on the outfit she always, without exception, wore at home—a flannel nightdress, soft dressing gown, and ankle-high slippers. Then it was down to the library to nibble on the cheese, bread, and fruit her housekeeper had laid out for dinner.

This was the room where she spent her time, reading, writing, and thinking—the one place she felt comfortable, where pleasant childhood memories blended with her adult life. Everything was in exactly the right spot. The wooden bookcases glowed with reassuring oaken warmth; the table had the perfect waxed sheen; the air smelled wonderfully of leather bindings and fine paper pages; even the nymphs carved into the marble fireplace were like old friends.

Sarah ran her hand over the books she’d lined up on the writing table and stopped at Alice’s Adventures in Wonderland. As a child, the Knave’s trial for stealing tarts had fascinated her with its utter absurdity. The more she learned about the world of adults, however, the more piercingly allegorical the story became. While Alice found the trial nonsensical, the other characters behaved as if she were the mad one. Yet Alice had the advantage of knowing that the queen and her followers were merely a pack of cards.

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