Questions After Dinner

Aboard this great vessel, on a journey to a new land (or at least, new to me), we sat as the ship rocked us into a doze. The nausea of the day subsided as we discussed our youths, our worlds outside of the times we spent in each other’s company. Looking back now, those questions told them all so much more of me than they’d ever asked.

I used to sleep with a tiny doll - Cleo, I called her, and I dragged her around everywhere with me until it was time to put toys away and be a woman. I have yet to dig through the trunk mother packed for me, and part of me hopes to find Cleo, who I admit I would leave secreted away in a torn corner of the trunk when I travelled. I have yet to look. I couldn’t bear the thought that I had escaped a loveless marriage only to leave my childhood friend in his care.

My thumbs are not green, though I do like to look at flowers. I have tried to raise flowers, but I often fall victim to overwatering. We never had pets beyond the hunting dogs…but I think…I think I could care for a child. I would dearly love to have children. Or would have loved them. I am old enough that I should already have borne them if I were able. Yet another reason for Nelson to find another…one who can give him what he wants.

Describe my love… they are tall and slight and soft and wonderful. He holds me as though I were the world, and every action is an offering, not a demand. O! For a world built upon invitation rather than expectation, for surely Albemarle is a Monarch among people.

I admit that I do indeed look good in red, though I have only worn so bold a colour once: one evening Nelson brought with him a silken robe and asked that I wear it. The soft drape of the fabric on my colouring pleased me, but both pleased and displeased him, I think, for he told me not to wear it again. In this, I disobeyed him - in his absence I occasionally wore that robe for the silken comfort it brought.

I do not think I could give a speech. I used to be very good at them, and would often pronounce them at dinner, or before the other ladies in church. There is little I feel qualified to speak on, for so much has changed.

Which brings me to advice: I will always take advice from my friends. Zainab and Amelia are older and wiser, and while I may question their behaviour as it pertains to themselves, their advice for me has often been of great comfort. Albemarle does his best to give good advice - indeed, I hung on their words from girlhood and lapped at them as nectar from a tree. I don’t think I could take more advice from Grahnt. I feel there is nothing more he can say that would be of help to me. Indeed, the advice he provided only served to muddy the waters and make me unsure of my intent, which is now perfectly clear.

I have been called naive, enchanting and problematic by some…I prefer to see myself as unsure, maturing and thoughtful.

I admit I am intrigued by complex puzzles - but only when they do not pertain to my own life.

Of course, worrying about Cleo as I am, I clearly am of the mind that non-sentient things deserve our empathy. It is also why I do not try my hand at raising plants any more. They do not need me meddling in their affairs.

I wish…somehow, that I could be a teenager once more…in the years before my mother made the match with Nelson. I wish I had had the courage to more firmly state then my preference for Albemarle…that I had encouraged them to speak with my mother…that I could have done something then to forestall all the heartache we must endure now.

If we could win a lottery and have all the money we need, I would…I would… I would give it to Albemarle. I would save it for us. So we might live on it and never need worry about what might be coming next.

I am a great lover of romance novels. I wished, always, to live in a sweeping romance, the kind where adventures take place and the lovers are finally together in a satisfying and blissful ending. Now I feel I may be in such a book and I am sorry I ever wished such things upon the characters.