Life Transitions and Stalls Sometimes

Ici: Bruxelles
Maintenant: Je ne sais pas…

Comfy and cosy in my Eames chair in Brussels. Jonathan just phoned. Of course. And of course he knows where I am. More than that: of course he asked how Washington was. As for him, he, too, is home: New York City. Manhattan. Upper East Side. I remember the Upper East Side back in a different day. When those townhouses were nearly new. When wealth and family names ran even wilder than they do today. Jonathan lives in a sleek apartment, though. Nothing elegant and timeless like my townhouse here in the middle of it all. The heart of Brussels. Sometimes…when I am far away from Jonathan, like now…he annoys me. But it is an annoyance born of a disturbing amount of affection. An affection, in fact, that I have not felt in a long while.

That discussion is not for Now, though. It’s for another Time because I should continue my Tale.

I found myself sitting, once again, in a stiff chair in front of M Durant’s large desk in his dusty office. It seemed, at least to me, to be dustier than when I’d last been in it. He frowned a great deal and rubbed his chin constantly.

“They’re all dead?” he repeated for about the hundredth time.

“Yes. All.” I answered with the same even tone in which I’d attempted to conduct the entire encounter. “I am here, Monsieur Durant, because I desire to know what you will have done with me. And I desire to know when I may come into my inheritance.”

“Done with you? What’s to be done with you? Well, you’ll return to school, of course. You still have your things, I presume?” --Of course, I did, they were in the carriage. “Well, then you will return to school immediately.”

He packed me up and shipped me off, muttering about what was to be done with the family home and property. I didn’t stay at school long though. I was not met by Anne. No, Anne had gone, graduated, and left the Academy. Madame met me with surprise, I then realized, because she had been certain that I, too, would perish of illness. My last weeks at school were quite tense.

However, my first task when back in my old room was to write to Anne and beg her to call me to her in England. I told her how I’d lost all my family, how I had a bit of money, how I could finance my own way and buy my own dresses if she would just please let me share her roof, or her father or uncle’s roof, I did not care… I waited for those weeks, at school, sullen in my lessons, for Anne’s reply. And at last, it did come. She answered my call and said that not only she, but all of London society would await my arrival. She told me things that would have sounded magical had I not felt nearly so dead inside. Bows to the Queen, champagne soirées, gowns, balls…gentlemen callers… I was simply ravenous to leave though. So with all the lady-like command I could muster, I returned to M Durant for the final time. I wore my most somber mourning dress. And I held my head higher than even my family name warranted. I told him that I was leaving: that I would hire a servant girl for myself, take the Mail Coach to Calais, the boat to Dover, and from there hire a chaise to London. I demanded my full account, my full inheritance. I looked my guardian in his face and told him that from then on he need neither concern himself with my person or my affairs.

I doubt I was either as cold, or as harsh, as I retrospectively report, but I was certainly bold to approach him thus, and he was clearly stunned enough to let me have my way. That, or he really had no desire to be responsible for my life and whereabouts. He was, after all, a little young to have a charge such as me. And as I was displaying a rebellious streak, he’d probably rathered to have washed his hands of me.

The travel portion of this journey does not exist in my memory anymore, nor does arriving at Anne’s family townhouse. There was bustle and excitement and I was cooed and shooed over ridiculously. I was told I would be a charmer in the Season with my quaint French accent and fashionable Paris clothes. This much, remains in vague recall. Anne, though, remarked that I was much changed from when she’d seen me last. By the time I made it to her it had been close to five months, and that is a worthy amount of time for a body and mind to change. Although…perhaps not as much as mine actually had.