BOOK THREE
Of The Amazing Adventures of Emmeline Page:
Revolutionary Librarian
Editor's Notes
From Jacqueline Hackworth-Bowen, Ed:
After delving through the notebooks left by my sister, Josephine Hackworth-Bowen, she seemed to have defined the upcoming chapters as a separate book entirely different in scope and style as well as meaning, flying free from all previous entries.
While all former chapters have dealt with various topics all dear to Josephine's heart such as equal rights, worker's rights, unionization, women's sufferage, ecology, sustainable farming and economy, free energy, alternative energy sources,racial and gender equality, peace action, family planning and many other worthy concerns of the day, she took pains to deliver her small 'morality plays' as she jokingly referred to them, in a manner which she made clear was to be read by pre-teen and young adult readers, and so wrote her 'delivery' in an easily 'digestible' format.
Until now. The following chapters she noted, were for more adult readers. Whoever, wherever they are;here and beyond the Dog Star.Siriusly.
Herein, she warned, she was boldy going, -& split infinitives be damned!- into material much closer to the marrow, the meat, the intrinsic WHY behind, well, shoes, ships and cabbages and kings the universe, and everything.
Seekers of truth, fear not to enter here, but leave all
preconceptions at the door. What my sister believed to have discovered in her many ramblings both in and beyond this world of ours, she was not faint of heart to divulge.
You have been warned...
--Jacqueline Hackworth-Bowen, Ontario, Canada, 1927 CE
Chapter One:
Emmeline awoke to the sound of a distant fog horn.
This seemed at first, to be such a humble, familiar sound that she gave it no particular notice in her dream-addled state. As her consciousness slowly ascended past Theta on up through Alpha and into Beta, cries of seabirds and clangs of a trolley bell at last informed her senses that, indeed, she was not in Sonora any longer.
Her eyes flew open, while she remained dead still. As she gazed about her, she saw she was in a single white bed, with white fluffy linens and quilts, in a white wood-paneled room. A window beside her bed was open a crack and salt-tinged cool air blew gently through the billowing white curtains.
She froze. She now tried to come to grips with the certainty that she was, somehow, she believed, in San Francisco.
The artefact!
...Was her one thought as she sat up suddenly, then felt a wave of dizziness. She slumped back against the pillows.
Slowly, now. Her heart began to race as she tried to put her thoughts in order. Daryl. She remembered that much; he'd taken her to Esperanza's and forced her to show him the artefact, and then...
...she awoke in San Francisco.
Slowly, she rose to a sitting position. Shakily, she tried standing, and found herself more or less able. Where is the artefact? She opened the drawer in the small night table beside the bed. There it was, still swathed in it's silken
cocoon. She sighed, relieved. Only then did she notice that she was wearing only her shift and undergarments. She looked to the closet and saw her skirt, and the new purple blouse, both hanging therein. Her boots were cleaned and
sat neatly upon the floor beneath them. Hm.
One thing at a time, Em.She spotted a pitcher of water and basin upon a white chest of drawers. As she poured water and washed up, she noted her left ring-finger, still showing the slightly jagged cut of Josephina's krys knife.
She felt a pang, and a sense of deep loss. To have found such a sweet friend, only to lose her minutes later! Along with the rest of her former life...
The cut was red, but seemed to be healing well. The oil! She searched her skirt pockets then and, diosa be thanked!-- Josephina's oil was still wrapped in her scarf within. Relieved, Emmeline removed the bottle, and uncorked it, sniffing the intoxicating scent that would ever mean the mystery of night, of moon and stars, of music and laughter and spice and flamenco guitars and her gypsy sister...now lost to her...
Em sniffed back her tears and dabbed a tiny drop of her precious oil to the cut on her finger, and touched it behind her ears. At least she had some tangible memories of Josephina, and the others to keep with her and give her courage. She felt so adrift, and caught up in some web of intrigue beyond her control. Thus far...
She looked out the window. Yes, had to be the City. You don't see hills like this in Pankhurst at least. Em's smile was wry as she tried to find which way to the bay and so orient herself. Looked to be morning still, by the sun's position...wisps of fog lingered over the hills beyond.
Nob Hill, perhaps? A hotel, maybe?
And the door...was it locked...? She tried it. No, it swung open without even a creak. She took a quick peek into the hallway, no one there. Closing the door, she dressed quickly and pocketed the artefact. Hm. Apparently she was on the 2nd or 3rd story. No climbing out the window, it seems. It's the door or nothing.
Taking a deep breath, Em went into the hall and sallied forth to meet the challenge of the new day and new world.
New and old mysteries.
. . . .
Emmeline followed the fine Turkish rug framed by the wooden corridor which led down the hallway ending at a staircase descending below.So it seemed she was upon the third floor then. Bending over the balcony made her dizzy, observing the nautilus shell of stairs which curved round to rest at last upon the foyer parquet floor.
Slowly, then.
Hearing nothing but the ticking of a clock echoing somewhere within these walls, Emmeline was drawn to the parlor where she found a fire burning in the hearth. No one about;so far so good. She passed through the room to the hall beyond and tried the front door. It didn't budge.
'Good morning.'
Em whirled about, to find Daryl standing before the fireplace in the parlor, holding a book before him. He looked up at Emmeline, regarding her with a slight frown.
Glancing in the corner at the grandfather clock he remarked, 'Well, for another 15 minutes anyway. You slept late.'
What to say to that? Em's lips tightened as she thrust her hands in her skirt pockets, grasping Josephina's oil and the artefact tightly as if they were the only things anchoring her to the planet. And, indeed, it felt thus to Em.
She strode into the parlor,prepared to do battle.
'It is an exhausting pastime, apparently, being abducted against one's will,' ventured Emmeline. She stopped and stood across from Daryl, taking in his tall measure.
Daryl looked up at her over his book, which he closed then. "'We are such stuff, as dreams are made on, and our little life, is rounded with a sleep.'" Daryl smiled slightly at her, a small curve to the lips. 'Shakespeare's 'Tempest', quoth he.
"'One may smile and smile, and be a villain!'" Em countered, 'Hamlet.'
Daryl dropped his smile like a hot poker then and frowned at Em in earnest.
"'Reputation is an idle and most false imposition; oft got without merit, and lost without deserving.'" He quoted, his fine lips in a hard line. 'Othello.'
Emmeline sighed and sat without invitation upon an armchair facing the fire. 'Has the Bard any quotations perhaps regarding those who lack the manners to offer their abductees even a glass of tea?' she remarked, crossing her legs and leaning back in her seat, her fingers drumming upon the arm of her chair. Lord and Lady! Not only a madman, but one lacking in civility as much as he is bloated beyond measure with unmitigated arrogance. Worse than Jack, she decided.
'My apologies, mistress...' Daryl pulled a bell cord near the mantle and Emmeline heard a rustle of skirts heading up the hallway. A robust woman appeared in housekeeping livery. 'Sir?' She enquired.
'Tea for two, please, Rosa,' Daryl raised a single eyebrow but otherwise regarded Emmeline with mild sangfroid. Rosa turned and bustled out.
'Forgive my perceived parsimony with respect to your comforts. I do try to be most accommodating to those under my...aegis.' At last, Daryl consented to lower his looming presence to the chair across from Emmeline. '...in case you are wondering, it was Rosa who saw to you last night and put you to bed.Later, we may make such changes as you deem necessary to your accouter.'
'My accouter is just fine the way it is, thank you.' Emmeline's ire was rising at this display of self-satisfied
despotism. She managed to contain her wrath but barely. Keep a cool head, Em, she told herself. There has to be a way out. We're only in San Francisco, not the moon, or even Massachusettes.'But let us dispense with all this rococo periphrasis, shall we?' Em wished to have done with this pretentious plutocrat already...She then recalled that Daryl was a playwright. As well as some sort of self-styled magician. Oy. Not only tiresome but seriously addled. Nothing worse than a playwright with a mandamus from the center of the universe for edifiying the masses...
Daryl looked at her, long fingers of one hand playing slowly over his lips,Em believed, to hide a smile. She found nothing to be amused at here.
Rosa appeared, setting a tea tray upon the table next to Daryl. 'Anything else, Don Diego?' she enquired, turning the handle of the porcelain pot to Daryl.
'That will be all for now, thank you Rosa,' Daryl answered to Emmeline's wonderment. He then turned his attention to the tea service, pouring for Emmeline and himself. 'Sweet, with lemon, I believe?' he asked, handing Emmeline the fine Limoges saucer and cup.
Em cleared her throat and nodded, rather nonplussed, as she accepted her tea, which was delicious she had to admit, and just as she liked. 'Don Diego?' she enquired.
'Aliases are most convenient, I find. Don't you, Josephina?' Daryl answered, sipping his tea.
Em's patience was suddenly at an end. She set her tea down.
'What is all this about, Daryl? You have the artefact. What role am I to play in this little...charade of yours?'
'Impatient, are we?'Daryl looked at her closely, still holding his tea. He tilted his head slightly sideways then.
'You do resemble your mother.'
This hit Emmeline like a brick. 'What do you know of her? Who are you, to speak of my mother?'
'I am free to travel through time, as you might have guessed.I knew both your mother and father well.'
'Much good it did either of them,' Emmeline started to rise.
'Emmeline...'Daryl set his cup down. He leaned toward her clasping his hands before him. 'Don't you wish to know, at last, what 'all this' as you call it, is about? Why your father, and Frank as well, went missing in time? Why Jack is so enraptured with you? Why he and Aleister came back from the future, to find you and Alice? Why you are here with me now?'
Naturally, the answers to many of these questions were exactly what kept Emmeline awake nights for years, tossing and turning and traveling down labyrinthian thought-paths til she became utterly lost, worn in mind and spirit. 'Why,' she asked, looking at him intently, 'Would I believe anything you, my abductor, whom Jack also despises,not without reason, I would think!--Why should I or anyone believe anything you have to tell me?'
Daryl sighed and hung his head, staring at the rug, seemingly. His head had fallen forward into a stray ray of sunshine. Emmeline noted that his hair wasn't altogether black like Jack's... but a dark brown, thick still, and shot with golden lights. Jack must have his mother's jet locks then. She thought of Jack, of his anger at the loss of his parents, all due to this man, presumably.
Daryl sat back against the chair, and regarded Em. 'Pax vobiscum, Emmeline.' He ran a hand through his thick hair, a gesture so like Jack's she felt an involuntary tug at her heartstrings. 'I will not keep you here against your will. You are free, to go. However....'he looked at her with a steely grey gaze, 'You will leave as you came, never knowing the answers you seek.'
He stood then, went to the front door, and leaned upon it. Em heard a 'click' somewhere within the door's panel. 'It's open. I'll be here, waiting. If you decide to return. You are free to go, or to stay here, as long as you wish. As I tried to tell you before, I am not your enemy. But, remember this:' he looked at her earnestly, 'I do know who is.' He opened the door then, and turned away from her. 'There are many tales I could share with you Emmeline that would make some order, if not sense, of all your midnight musings. Believe me, I've researched all in fine detail, both your family secrets, and my own.' He turned and regarded her with a solemn look which carried a challenge still. 'You would be surprised, I think, to find how the two came to be intertwined.' He stared at the floor once again. 'I'll be in my study,' So saying, he gestured toward the front door and with a casual shrug, took his exit , Em nearly thought: 'stage right'--
he was so practiced at this! How she would have liked to see him playing opposite Morgana.
Tatiana and Oberon, truly.
...cabrone...
'Wait!' Em stood, flustered now. Daryl stopped. 'What is your full alias, should I endeavor to reach you?'
He spared a glance her way, and answered, 'Rivera. Diego Rivera.' Daryl then, sadly it seemed, went into the room at the end of the hallway and shut the door.
Em regarded his departure. And the open front door. Without so much as a moment's hesitation, she bolted through and ran down the steps, her feet taking her unerringly down the high hill toward the bay, the ferry, and the train, beyond the grasping machinations of men.
Or so she thought.
. . . . .
It was a long walk to the waterfront, indeed. Emmeline hadn't eaten since the night before,when, she must admit,she had partaken of abit much cider, and jack.Neither did Timewalking agree with her...she was weak and dizzy still. But it felt good to be free, out in the cool sea air, and to walk off some of her frustration.
So, now what, Em? She had abit of the money Jack had given her in the bank, but lacked identification. Would the authorities still be looking for her? Or at all? She didn't
know if she was implicated.
She'd also given some of the cash to the Guevara's...wanting to make certain that they would reach Mexico City safely. Anything else she'd left with Esperanza, for household expenses. She smiled wryly to consider hopping a freight...to where? She was better off in the City here, than Pankhurst, that was certain...why bring trouble to Jack and Aleister's door...?
Emmeline strolled to the docks and wandered out to gaze at the ships and sea lions lounging on the rocks near shore.
She thought back to the not-so Long Ago,when she was here with her old Captain, Alice and Alejandro...such carefree days then, it seemed. How quickly one's life can turn into something altogether unrecognizable.
...Hard to think, she was so weak. She sat upon a wooden bench and sighed. Diosa...what to do...? Well, she wasn't heading back to Jack, that was certain. It galled her to allow him to see her come crawling back, in such dire straits.
Think, Em, try...! She gazed out across the bay, trying to clear her mind...well, she could endeavor to learn what Daryl...'Don Diego' ye gods! the hubris! she mused...what Daryl was up to.
And, somehow,get something from him she could sell or pawn for money...something to ensure her independence for a short while anyway.Then she could send word to Jack and Aleister to meet her somewhere in the city, She felt she owed it to them to let them know what Daryl was up to at least.
Well then. It was the best plan she could think of for now.
At least she'd given Daryl the firm idea that she wasn't keen on staying about, any more than she absolutely had to...
Rigghht.
She gazed up the steep grade heading back to Nob Hill. Ugh.
That'd be no fun on an empty stomach and feeling faint. Wouldn't Daryl just love that, to see her return defeated and bedraggled. At his mercy... Uff da...the things one had to endure these days.
As Em would soon find out, it was nothing compared to what lay ahead.
. . . . .
'Get the stick, Dylan! Here boy! Fetch!' Aleister tossed a short stick of kindling across the yard, hoping his new German Shepherd pup would figure out why. Dylan was nothing if not eager, he just wasn't too sure about what.
Leaping madly about, he ignored the flying stick, chasing
in all directions, seeking a scent.
Jack stood and watched from the porch chuckling. 'He'll get it one of these days, Al...young still.' They'd spent the morning at a kennel which came recommended by the Kahlo's, They had decided upon Dylan, or rather the pup decided upon them, as he'd bounded out to greet them whilst the rest of the litter milled about one another, uninterested in the visitors. Aleister and Jack knew right away they'd been chosen.
Al bent down and clapped his hands. Dylan ran up, tail a-wag. 'Sit!' Al commanded. Dylan sat! He sprang up again a second later and tore off after Alice, however, having spotted her as she endeavored to sneak about the corner of the porch and escape into the relative safety of the house.
'Hold on!' Jack caught the precocious pup by his new collar. 'No! Dylan. No chasing Alice. Alice is your friend.' Alice didn't think so, as she growled and slipped past them inside the screen door. Jack petted the little guy, hoping that Alice would eventually warm to him. Eventually.
Al joined Jack on the porch, grinning. 'They'll work it out, at some point,'he declared. 'Well, it's been a productive morning, Jack! I'm for a bit of lunch, what say?'
'Stay here, boy! You run off some of that energy now...' Jack instructed Dylan as he tossed a red rubber ball his way as distraction. The men followed Alice inside. 'He should be alright in the yard, I don't think he's old enough to go wandering far as yet.'
While Jack dished up some stew and cut the cheese and cornbread, Aleister tried to make amends to Alice with an offering of choice chicken tenders from the stew which Alice condescended to accept neatly. They were chowing down and perusing the morning Courier when Dylan set up a great row barking madly.
'Ah, what now...' Aleister rose and headed for the door.
'Lord and Lady!' Jack heard him exclaim. 'Jack!' Al called then.
Jack frowned and quick-stepped it to the porch where he beheld a sight he'd not seen in over a month. 'Yeats!Ah, sir!' he amended, 'We'd about given up on any notion of when you'd return!' Yeats was on the porch, staring at a bounding Dylan who eventually sat at his feet. 'Hm.' was his only comment.
He looked up at last and regarded Jack and Aleister. 'I have news. It's not good.' And he went past them into the house. Jack and Al looked at each other and followed within.
They found Yeats in the kitchen. 'Any tea about?' he enquired, characteristically, as he sat down and sighed, taking off his hat and rubbing his forehead. Jack set the water on to boil while measuring out the Earl Grey. Aleister sat across from Yeats, concern writ heavy upon them both.
Yeats said nothing, only stared at the table top, running his long fingers through his hair as he ruminated silently.
At last, Jack set a tea tray down and poured for all. When
Yeats had taken a sip, he deigned to speak at last.
'The news, is just this: Emmeline went missing from Sonora.
Gone. Disappered. It took long and long to find any trace of her...' he paused, looking at Jack.
'...yes?' prompted Jack, barely able to contain himself.
Yeats took another sip of tea, sighing. 'She is now in San Francisco. With Daryl.'
. . . .
No comments:
Post a Comment