Page 21 of The Ambiguous Enigma of the Hunted Lady
Leah peered past her knees at the title of the discarded book. She smiled a bit at the title.
“Short stories concerning Christ.” she read, her head turned sideways.
“Do you have a preference? We have a healthy collection, and I am sure we could find something more suited to your tastes. Please, tell me, what would you prefer I bring you?”
“Do you deliver books to the bedsides of all of your guests, Your Grace?” she asked suddenly, disarming Kenneth. His mouth hung open without a word for a moment before kicking his brain back into action.
“No.” He coughed. “Only the injured ones.”
“Well said.” she smiled. Kenneth assumed she was trying to make the most of her situation; she was on bed rest, healing slowly in an unfamiliar place. Kenneth had seen plenty of soldiers in the same position with half the heart that she now possessed.
“So, what shall I bring you?”
“You'll have anything I want to read?”
“Or very close to it.”
“What aboutFrankenstein? I never got a chance to read it, but I have heard all about it.”
“Beg pardon?”
“Frankenstein. I do not know the author’s name, but she became very famous.”
“Shelley, I think,” Kenneth said. “but it was rumored to be a false name.”
“So intriguing.” Leah exclaimed joyfully. “I must read it.”
“I–” Kenneth stammered. He had not ever read the work by the unknown Shelley, but he had heard his fair share about its evils and horrors from his mother. Once he had been to see an adaption on the stage, but he had drunk a bit too much in his box seat and fallen asleep within twenty minutes of the play's beginning. In turn, the only opinions he had of her were formed by his mother's rants about morality and common decency, and of course, godliness. “I would.”
“Well bring me that then.” Leah clasped her hands together and smiled. “And we shall have something else to talk about.”
“That is one book,” Kenneth admitted, “that is not in our library. My mother saw to it.”
“That's a shame.” Leah's face fell. “Anything like it?”
“I'm afraid not.” Kenneth bit his lip. He had entered with the intent of making this woman more content, and it seemed he had only done the opposite. “But I shall find it for you, that I promise.”
“You will?” Leah's eyes sparkled. “You have no reason to do so. Forget the matter.” She leaned back to glance out the window.
“I shall not.” Kenneth accepted the challenge. “For no one's sake but my own satisfaction, if it well pleases you.”
“That would please me most.” Leah grinned. “In the meantime,” she poked at the book of short stories with her toes. “bring me something Greek.”
“Greek?” Kenneth was stunned. “Like Homer?”
“Yes.” Leah cocked her head. “Greek like Homer.”
“Very well.” Kenneth jumped to his feet and exchanged a sideways look with Beatrice that caused him to blush. It was if he had been caught being honest, seen outside of his adventurous image of armor. For some reason that embarrassed him, as if he had never been truly honest at home in the first place. The feeling swirled up quickly, as his face became red, and he ducked out the door as quickly as he could.
Who is this woman that reads Homer?Whoever she was, she had set events into motion that Kenneth could not foresee.
Chapter 7
Dr. Fowler's coach arrived at the house about two in the afternoon. The day had turned into a fine one, and light wisps of clouds drifted about overhead without a care in the world.
A fine ocean breeze wafted over the southern hills and tugged at Dr. Fowler's hat as he disembarked with his medical bag. He was a short man with spectacles and overall a kind demeanor, but at times his hawkish nose could be considered ugly by conventional social standards. Kenneth met him in the parlor as Daniel took his coat.
“Dr. Fowler.” Kenneth said, walking up with his hand outstretched. “It is good to see you, my friend; it has been some time.”
