The Invitation



  by

  V.R. Christensen

  Captive Press Publishing

  Copyright 2012 by V.R. Christensen

   

  This is a work of fiction. Any similarities to persons living or dead are purely coincidental.

  Cover design by V.R. Christensen and Captive Press.

  Author’s note

  In preparing Cry of the Peacock for publication, it became evident that certain elements in the opening chapter were not necessary to the general arc of the story, that the book might, in fact, begin with an interview between the brothers, from whom the reader might get the bulk of the background. I made the difficult decision of cutting out the first five chapters (approximately 20,000 words) in the hope that it would be a more concise, quicker paced beginning, and one that cut to the heart of the true conflicts the characters were to face. It was, however, a sacrifice.

  In the spirit of preservation, and because at one time it did seem important to explain how these two sisters found themselves in their predicament, I offer those first few chapters, reworked into the form of a short story. The Invitation is not an excerpt, it is not intended to be a teaser, it is simply for those who wish to know what they might be missing in the original version of the story.

  August 1890

  —Hampshire, England—

  THE ENVELOPE LAY open upon the table. The seal had been broken and the letter read more than once. Abbie simply stared at it, while her sister watched, wringing her hands before her and uncertain what to say.

  “Are they in earnest?” Abbie asked rhetorically. “I cannot see how they can be.”

  “You can’t really believe they would make such an offer in jest?”

  Abbie looked at her younger sister and did not answer right away. “It is the polite thing to do, I suppose. They know—surely they expect—that we must refuse.”

  “Refuse, Abbie? You can’t mean it.”

  “Have we another choice?”

  Mariana picked up the letter and handed it to her sister. Abbie did not take it. There was no need to do it. She understood already what the letter contained. An invitation to take up residence with her landlords at Holdaway Hall.

  “Clearly we do, thanks to the Crawford’s generosity,” Mariana answered. “You cannot truly mean that we should refuse them? Who would pass up such an opportunity?”

  “I don’t see how we can accept it. You know how much our parents resented them. You have seen as well as I how they have left their dependents to suffer, while they sit comfortable in their grand house. Our father, as overseer, was powerless to help the laborers and their families without the cooperation of the landlords. As was our mother who served so faithfully and fruitlessly beside him, nursing them in their illnesses, delivering their babies. We have been more fortunate than most. Oak Lodge has been a comfortable home for us, not like the sties the laborers live in. But without Mother and Father, we cannot remain. You know this. We have always known it. Without Papa we have no money to pay the rent. This is surely their gentle way of prompting us to move on.”

  “By inviting us to live with them? Surely not! And it isn’t as if we have other opportunities waiting for us.”

  Abbie was not so certain about this. Her mother’s family had been as large and powerful as the Crawford’s at one time. They were gone now, having lost their fortune, their house and lands, to some terrible fate Abbie had never been able to understand. Had it something to do with her mother’s marriage to her father? She had married beneath her. A common tenant. And for it her family had disowned her. Soon after, they were all ruined. Every one. But so large a family as the Farebournes had been could not have disappeared entirely. Abbie had happened upon a name, tucked in her mother’s jewelry box. No jewels inhabited that spot now, merely small items of memorabilia. Amongst these Abbie had found the name of one aunt.

  “Abbie,” Mariana said, her voice and manner pleading. “All the wealth and privilege we have so long envied of the Crawfords might be ours now as well.”

  “You have envied it, Mariana, I have not.”

  “And so you do not want it? To live in comfort? To have fine clothes and to go to balls and society parties. To go to London and have the best of everything? To marry well and to raise your children in the security that station and wealth must provide?”

  “I will not be beholden to them, Mariana. Not when our parents died so needlessly. All this fever and illness about us, it is owing to the Crawfords’ neglect.”

  “You cannot know that. People grow ill and die every day without explanation. You cannot blame them for our parents’ deaths. Not really.”

  But she did. Just as her mother and father had blamed them for the deaths of so many others.

  Mariana was close to tears now. “You are determined to refuse them, then?”

  Again, Abbie did not answer. She had made up her mind—there was no need to argue the point.

  “Where are we to go? How are we to support ourselves? We have no training, nothing and no one to recommend us.”

  “We have an aunt.”

  “What?” Mariana said, stunned. “I know of no aunt.

  “Our mother’s sister. I found her address among Mother’s things. I should have written already. I was wrong to wait so long.” Abbie moved to go, to attend to the now necessary errand without further waste of time.

  But Mariana, suddenly cross, stopped her. “This is our home! I don’t want to leave it. And I can’t believe you do either!”

  “Of course I don’t want to leave Oak Lodge,” Abbie said, and meant it quite fervently. She would do almost anything to remain here. It was, after all, the only home she had ever known. She had lived a happy life here. Every memory ever formed, and now treasured, had been made here. But if to stay meant being indebted to her landlords, she simply could not do it. “To move to the Hall… To attempt to raise ourselves so high… I just cannot convince myself it is a good idea.”

  “And what of this aunt? How can you be certain she will accept us? She turned her back on our mother, did she not? Why should she not turn her back on us as well? Perhaps, after all, she has already done it. Is she not as good as a stranger to us?”

  “Whatever the differences between them, it happened so long ago. Who’s to say we might not be the ones to mend the breach? We have to try it, Mariana. You must see that. She is family, and that is a great deal more than the Crawfords can claim.”

  Mariana looked away as she clasped and unclasped her hands.

  “I’m sorry, Mariana. I know that for you this is invitation is the chance to have all your dreams come true. But this honor isn’t ours to claim. We will be much better amongst family. You will see.”

  “If this strange aunt condescends to recognize us. Which she might not do, you know.”

  “She will. She must.”