A Study in Temperance (The Adventures of Ichabod Temperance Book 4) (12 page)

“So, ye finally come home after gallivanting all over God’s creation have ye?”

“For the moment, yes. I am addressing Thurston Purrington, am I not? And this, I assume, is Beaulah Purrington?”

“Yeah, what’s it to you? What’s the matter? T’is the Manor Hoose not to your pleasing, your highness?”

“I think I like it very much, thank you.”

“You’ve got a funny way of showing it, little Missy. You have no thought nor love for the Manor nor land. Get on with ye, back to your running about the planet.”

“No thank you, Madame. Not until my business here is complete. Thurston Purrington, your name sounds familiar to me. Should I know it? Perhaps you worked for my father upon a time?”

“Perhaps I worked for him! I carried the very weight, and brunt of his namesake and livelihood. If it weren’t for me, there would be no Plumtartt legacy! I did more for that man than has ever been done by one for another. Who do you think led the Egyptian expeditions to the Upper Nile that he financed. It was Thurston Purrington, that’s who!”

“I can assure you that I am indeed grateful on behalf of my late father for any service you may have provided. If its not too much trouble may I ask if the phrase “Hope is in the House” has any meaning to you?”

“Sounds like some kind of maudlin sentimental nonsense.”

“Of course, I’m sure you’re right.”

“Move along and quit wasting our time.”

“Certainly, Beaulah my dear, and so we shall, my friends. We are so sorry to have bothered you and wish you both to enjoy a splendid afternoon. Toddily-Ta-Ta!”

Mary is happy to speed us away from that address.

“Mr. Temperance, do you ever have the feeling that you are being followed?”

“I’m not sure, Ma’am, why?”

“Because we are being followed right now.”

I turn and look. Sure enough, about a hundred yards behind us, a gentleman in a brown suit, derby, a full beard and wearing very dark lensed glasses is indeed giving the impression of following us.

“Looks like a lone bicyclist, Miss Plumtartt.”

I rein Mary to a halt to allow our fellow traveler the chance to catch up with us. Instead, he too has stopped his conveyance. He appears to be waiting for me to proceed.

“Ain’t that something, Miss Plumtartt. I’ve gotten a pretty good handle on most of the inhabitants around here, and I can’t place this fella.”

“Nor I, Mr. Temperance. He looks to be of average, if lean, build. I can say nothing for his features other than to say he is most fully bearded. Those Bohemian lenses give him the look of a Russian anarchist to my eye.”

“HUH-LOW!” I call and wave my arm for him to join us, but he stands motionless astride his bicycle, just watching us. With a shrug and a sigh, I encourage Mary to get us going again. Once we are in motion, so too is our cyclic companion.

“Miss Plumtartt, did something about Mrs. Purrington look familiar to you?”

“You know, I think that there was a little something in her appearance that reminds me of someone we may have met recently.”

“I think it was her eyes. They seemed to favor somebody, but I’m not sure of who.”

“By Jove, Mr. Temperance, I knew there was something in her face that I felt I recognized, but I could not quite put my finger to it. I think you are on the correct track, sir.”

“Speaking of being on the right track, which way do we go now?”

“Please turn left onto the Ill-BeGotten ByeWay, Mr. Temperance.”

“Yes, Ma’am.”

After about a hundred yards I look back. Sure enough, our bicyclical solitairian has turned in our direction.

Some distance down this lonely road we approach a handsome set of open, iron-barred gates set in a smart, red brick wall.

“Let us now pay an unscheduled visit to the WroughtteAufulle Estate. Shall we, Mr. Temperance?”

“Yes, Ma’am, Miss Plumtartt, Ma’am.”

We enjoy our first glimpse of a primary color in fauna since our arrival in Crimpenmestylenshire as the clever horticulturist of the WroughtteAufulle Estate has managed to coax many rose bushes into bloom. Traveling up the clean white stones of the gently curving drive, we are taken with the serenity of this lovely English Home, bits of which peek out from an amazing amount and variety of happy fauna that threaten to strangle the home with invasive fragrant love.

Mary brings us to a stop before the front doors. I secure Mary and together, Miss Plumtartt and I trot up the three broad steps leading to the main entrance. We pause at the top on the spacious front porch, turning to look back across the landscape. The sun has availed itself of this timely opportunity to burn through the heavy gray masses of sad, dun-coloured clouds to warm our hearts and faces. Mary actually jumps and skips with a happy whinny of joy in the heart lifting sunshine. The clearing mists quickly dissipate into nothingness, granting us an unexpected expansive panoramic vision. We can see all the way to Plumtartt Manor, though she is probably almost a mile away. In this glorious view, she becomes framed in a sharp and vibrant rainbow that magically forms over the now picturesque valley. Dozens of birds burst into song at the joyous surprise of light and warmth.

Flowers, rainbows and cute, happy little ponies give way to an opening door that does not even wait to be knocked upon. Instead, a bright eyed young maid pops out.

“Hello! The WroughtteAufulle Estate has visitors! Ho, ho! I saw you through the window and beat you to the door, ho, ho! Come in, come in, my dearies.”

“Hullo? What’s this then? Do we have visitors, Lillie?”

A funny little fellow has wandered in to the chandelier enhanced foyer from within the house at the same time that we enter from outside. He is befuddled and bemused. Pausing at a glorious display of gladioli and phlox, he lazily stirs his tea and gives Miss Plumtartt and me a curious one sided smile from beneath his half lidded eyes but above the tiny pince-nez, clinging to his nose.

“Ho, ho, I think we, that is, you and the Signora, have visitors, you funny man!” Lillie laughs at her jolly employer. “But I have not even asked them their names or business! Ho, ho! Hee, hee! I shall go and fetch the Signora now and allow you to make your own introductions! Ho, ho, ho, hee, hee, hee!” Lizzie continues her giggle fit as she runs off in search of her mistress.

“Sorry about our girl, Lillie. She really is such a dear that we simply can’t bring ourselves to bring her in line. No harm done, with the silly thing though, I do hope you are not offended. My name’s Sforza. Actually my name is Persnicitus Snooteepahntz, but my wife is of such a strong willed nature that I felt it easier to assume her name as she was not as fond of my name, so much, so to speak, as she was, and is, in fact, you see, of me.”

“Howdy there, Mr. Sforza. My name’s Temperance and this here is Miss Persephone Plumtartt.”

“Not
the
Persephone Plumtartt! Isn’t this a surprise! What brings you to our door...”

A storm is heard moving through the house with strident velocity. The rustling of many layers of sumptuous fabrics fill the air as much as they fill the hallways, pushing a volume of air before them in a rising, perfumed wind. Building with intensity and charging the atmosphere with electric current, a loud, strong and vibrant woman’s voice makes itself known. The turbulent excitement quickly crashes on us as a side passage expels its hurricane hostess.

“Hey! Hello! What’s a this? I am-ah sitting in-ah my wonderful conservatory, how I loves that glass-paned, ornamental iron built domed circular room. It is like-ah the birdcage for-ah the-ah singing bird, but I am the singing bird and I sing not because I am sad like the caged bird of harsh reality. No! I sing-ah because I am so happy! Si! But then our little Lillie, she-ah comes to speak-ah to me. She says we have the guests. I say, ‘Who are these guests?’ and then she answers, ‘I don’t know?’ ‘I don’t know!’ Lillie, you welcome peoples into the house and you don’t know who they are? Maybe they are some tax collection service and I need to run them from the house with a riding crop? Henh? No? Are they the invaders from the Mars, maybe? But our silly Lillie, she just laughs, ‘hee, hee, hee,’ and says she-ah does not know! Bah! That impossible girl! It is a good thing I love her so much. Sometimes my-ah temper, she-ah gets the best of me-ah some-of-the-ah-times-ah. So I come and I look and what do I see? It is two wonderful little peoples-ah come-ah to see the beautiful Lady of ah the house, henh? The funny little chap in-ah the hat with-ah the goggles. And-ah the lovely girl! Oh! You are so pretty! Si! I must rush forward and grab you both up-ah in-ah the warm embrace? Si? Eezint dattah nice, henh? I must kiss you both. Ah-Smooch-Ah! Ah-Smooch-Ah! I just-ah got-ah hugg-ah you both some more, henh? My high heeled boots-ah grant me additional height and lever-ah-gey to my already delectable proportions! Si! In my great, voluminous dress, cinched waist, with corset worn on the outside allowing me to wear a very daring off the shoulder style of dress top, I am thinking I want-ah to hug these lovely peoples! I feel as if I have acres of flesh on display! Such wanton freedom! I am a happy woman! Come here my new little friends! I must crush you to my bosom in expression of my love! You two are so funny! Why do you struggle so? Resistance is futile! Ha, ha! I have you in my emphatically amorous embrace! Ha, ha! Ah--Smooch-Ah! Ah-Smooch-Ah! Ciao! my little English muffins, my name is Signora Francesca Angelina Marianna Sforza! Hello!”

I manage to wriggle my face free enough to draw breath and impart, “My name is Ichabod Temperance, this is Miss Persephone Plumtartt...”

“
PERSEPHONE PLUMTARTT!!!
” bellows Signora Francesca Angelina Marianna Sforza as she drops me to the floor and focuses her attention on Miss Plumtartt. “Oh! This is the girl for me, to be sure! She is-ah so smart! She is-ah so BEE-youteefull! Si! Oh! You and I, we are gonna be the good friends I think, si!”

With these words, Signora Francesca Angelina Marianna Sforza tucks Miss Plumtart into a cozy position under her arm and shoulder to sweep her into the parlor.

Mr. Sforza gives me a sleepy eyed shrug and nonchalantly strolls along after his volcanic bombshell of a wife. His multi-button rowed vest strains to contain the regally paunch pot belly upon which he balances his tea cup and saucer, as he eases along after his wife and Miss Plumtartt in a swaybacked pseudo-squire saunter.

Lillie gives me a disapproving look and shake of the head, then follows the others.

“I reckon I better get up off the floor and see where everybody went.”

Signora Francesca Angelina Marianna Sforza has Miss Plumtartt on a red velvet settee with her. Mr. Sforza has slumped into a peacock patterned wingback chair. I take the wingback opposite of Mr. Sforza.

“Oh Persephone, aren’t you the pretty girl, enh henh? You and me, sister, we are the full-figured girl, henh? I am happy to see corsets coming into the popular fashions.”

“I say, the effect is endearing to behold on the men in our lives, eh hem?”

“Ha, ha, you got that right, my Persephone! Maybe if I walked by that leaning tower in Pisa wearing the right outfit, it would straighten up, enh henh?
~sigh~
That reminds me of my second husband, I think.”

“Oh, darling, behave, you precocious thing.”

“Ha, ha, I know what outfits you like, my little Snic-Snic!”

“I thought the tower of Pisa reminded you of your fourth husband, dear.”

“No, that’s the Eiffel Tower.”

“Ah, of course, darling.”

“Hee, hee, here I am, your Lillie, with the tea and crumpets. I hope you like them!”

“Lillie, crank up the Victrola for us please, dear.”

“Okay, Mr. Sforza, hee, hee!”

“I say, you have had much experience with matrimony, Signora, eh hem?”

“Ha, ha, oh yeah, sure, I knows all about marriage! Early and often, ha ha! I’ve been married more times than I can count! What number are you, Snic-Snic?”

“Officially, number five, but technically, number six.”

“Ha, ha, there you go!”

“Darling, look at the condiments with which this chap Temperance embellishes his drink. Tell me, do all Americans apply butter to their tea, old boy?”

“That’s-ah not-ah the all! He-ah puts the salt in there, too!”

“It’s just a little thing I picked up in the Himalayas, y’all. It’s kinda a local habit up there. The butter an’ salt make it easier to take in oxygen at high altitudes. Somehow, the habit kinda stuck.”

“That’s-ah very cutsey wootsey I thinks, you funny little U.S.A. man. I likes you. No! Signora Francesca Angelina Marianna Sforza tells the big-ah fib! Signora Francesca Angelina Marianna Sforza, she-ah loves this funny little guy that she can’t remember the name of, but she just-ah loves his funny little face! You and me, we have been around the world my friend, but you must ah-gree with me, there’s-ah no place, likes-ah the homes, eh henh?”

“Heck yeah, Mrs. Madame Signora Francesca Angelina Marianna Sforza, Ma’am, why Miss Plumtartt was just commenting how one of her father’s favorite sayings was, “Hope is in the House.”

Eee-
Aye
-rRoark!!!

Screeches the Queen of all Monsters.

A Milanese Mortar launches herself skyward. When the Red Angel of Naples reaches apogee, she extends her deadly talons to descend as a Tuscan Pterodactyl. I am as a mouse, transfixed by the awesome vision of my demise. Rapt by her terrible beauty, I am unable to move before the bloodlusty onslaught of the scarlet, Roman raven.