Chapter Two
The library was the only room in any house we had lived in that I was ever excited to enter. Physically, there were walls, a floor and a ceiling, but it was the most adventurous and limitless study. One can open a book and be a scientist in a laboratory or an archeologist discovering golden artifacts in Egypt. There was always something about life to be discovered in the binding of a book. No matter how old and dusty a book or its author may be, one’s mind will be broadened.
I was fully enthralled in a novel about a lonesome poet’s life in the country of Belfast somewhere amongst the plains of Ireland when someone entered the room.
“One day, you are going to pick up a book and it will suck you right in and we are never to see your precious face again.”
My father took a seat opposite me in a brown leather arm chair. A smile remained in the shadows of his face as light from the flames danced across the plains of Mr. Harrison’s cheeks.
“Only because they know the master of the house neglects them so.”
This brought out a deep chuckle from my father. Laughter is something uncommon in our family due to the seriousness of our situation. The sound brought lightness to my heart that I wished I could lock away and save in my heart forever. Feeling fully satisfied with my father’s new tender heartedness, I resumed my readings.
“Tell me,” said he. “What is it about books that fascinate you?” Mr. Harrison gestured to the ceiling high, wall covered book shelves. I smiled up at all of them. Each leather bound story carrying knowledge of the outside world.
“It’s an escape. When reading, you have no recollection of time or of the world around you.” I brought the book closer to my face to examine it. “Words on a page, able to create sentences that can either mend or break an aching heart. Words can make you laugh, even on some occasions make you cry. There is nothing like a good book to get one through a day.”
“If you practiced the pianoforte as much as you spend your time reading, you’d be an excellent proficient.”
I put down my book on the circular, wooden table next to my reading chair. “What good would that do me? I can fulfill my fantasies alone by reading. But playing would only curse me deeply.”
“How so?” questioned he who had a puzzled look on his face.
I smiled. “The pianoforte is of no use to me if no one will be able to hear me play. I suppose I may feel indifferent if I were to play at balls or if we ever held company. However, with only you and dear mama to listen to me, I fear you would tire of my playing within the first day.”
The puzzlement seemed to disappear from Mr. Harrison completely. “I suppose you are correct, on my part in the least. You do know how irksome silence is for your mother. She does not bask in it as we do.”
“A virtue, I am sure of it.”
We laughed a great deal on Mrs. Harrison’s behalf before a change of subject was brought up by Mr. Harrison. “Becky, your mother tells me the most disturbing news.”
“What is it, father?”
He paused before he said, “You would not come into our interview. She said you refused.”
“I did.”
“Why?”
“You cannot expect me to attend every interview you hold when you just turn them away anyway. You need no assistance from me, and I am sure that my presence would make no difference to the man’s behavior.”
Mr. Harrison nodded. “We have made a family decision without you, due to your absence.”
“Father?”
“Mr. Bennit begins his place here in a fortnight. I hope you will welcome him into the house warmly.”
“I will do no such thing!” I rose from my chair. “Have you spoken to Sarah about this man? We know nothing of him. According to her, he has a reputation in town for being a most promiscuous bachelor. We do not need that kind of extra attention on this family.”
Mr. Harrison laughed again as if there was ever a hint of humor in my voice. “Sarah says this?” I nod. “Well, then your presence was indeed a necessity.”
“You blame me?”
“Mr. Bennit deserves a chance, does he not? Do not give up your good opinion on him so quickly. Judging someone on another’s words is above you, Becky. Do not forget that.”
I could not pretend that my father had been entirely precise in questioning me. Being cruel to Mr. Bennit and his…compromising reputation was not agreeable or dignified; therefore my decorum had been discredited. My poor behavior previously with my father, I demanded of myself, would never repeat itself. Mr. Bennit would be given the chance to own up to such speculation or contradict it. If what my maid spoke of is true, then I must speak to my parents about his immediate removal from my contacts. I would not hesitate in the least bit nor would I show any compassion for the distasteful Mr. Bennit. However, if by some remarkable chance this malicious talk is pronounced false, I must live with him.
Truth be told, I was anticipating that it would be the first conjecture.
After we dined, we all sat in the drawing room to entertain the evening. Mr. Harrison was in raptures with his paper while my mother was pursuing her embroidery. My father sat in an armchair by the fire and my mother sat across from him on the rosewood couch that we shared. Not a one of us spoke to another while we spent the two hours together. We did not even move, as if we were merely a great painting hanging on a wall in a very rich man’s sitting room. We stayed in this one attitude until Mr. Brooke, our family messenger, entered the room.
“Message for you, sir,” said he. Mr. Brooke held out a silver platter with a letter placed on its surface.
Mr. Harrison hastily picked up the leave. He broke the deep green, wax seal. I knew from the authentic impression of our family crest whom it was from.
“My dearest, it is from my cousin. She wishes to come and dine with us tomorrow night.”
My mother did not look up from her work. “She did not give us much time to prepare. I will have to tell the cooks to prepare a meal to fit her exquisite taste, although we all know she cannot be satisfied.”
“I think it wise to say: that was her personal intention, for sending a message so near to her arrival.”
“I believe you are correct, Mr. Harrison. She wishes to torment me and my unsteady heart. Did she say in her letter what the sentimental reasons for her unplanned visit?”
Mr. Harrison reread the letter and shook his head. “Matters about Miss Becky.”
“No doubt she plans to bring her into society once more. Just because we are now in town, does not mean that Rebecca can go to all of the balls and parties that each family holds. It is improper to begin with to parade about. I never understood why such young ladies do so, just to get a husband.” Mrs. Harrison all but spat at the thought of me being in public.
Not only was I never to go to a ball, but I must sit through yet another dinner while my cousin, Lady Margaret Bullen of Norland, gives her monotonous drivel on the subject.
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