I made my way to the shop the moment I received your letter.
How could Walter leave without so much as a goodbye? Most
peculiar. Not only had he promised me Mr Hawthorne’s latest (you know how I
relished the scandal of his Scarlet Letter) but I had good reason to expect an
invitation to the Poole residence for dinner. Or at least a cup of tea. Walter
was only a week or two more from suggesting it, I am sure. I can always tell
when a man has grown fond of me, Prudie. It is one of my many gifts.
This Mr Doe seems a harmless enough fellow, but I am not so
easily won over by a stranger, especially one who smells so strongly of dill.
You must borrow some of my rose water, Prudie, for I am sure your nasal
passages are in need of a good flushing out. How you could visit the shop and
not comment upon the smell immediately is beyond me.
Mr Doe does, however, seem to have adequate taste in reading
material if not his choice of cologne. Though I expressed a desire to read
about exotic lands and faraway places, he insisted that all the adventure I
desired could be found in a story set right in nearby London. I must say, I
doubted him immensely, until I saw the cover of his suggested title.
Flights and Chimes and Mysterious Times (such a quaint name,
don’t you think?) by a Ms Emma Trevayne has quite a dark and brooding look to
it. I was quite taken by the art of the cover; such detail despite the lack of
color. I will admit I would have passed this book had it been displayed on a
shelf, for there is nothing immediately appealing about its face, but upon
closer inspection the imagery is quite striking. A clockwork city! What lovely
nonsense.
Mr Doe said it would appeal to my child-like spirit. I was
most flattered by his ability to see my youthful nature. We are ancient,
Prudence, but all the more vain for it.
Perhaps you might shed some light on one mystery,
however: What is steampunk?
Do give Mr Pennylegion my love.
Yours,
Gertrude
Popplewell

No comments:
Post a Comment