Oh, I know, I sort of took a long time doing it, but here's the second chapter. I tried very hard to pay attention to my editing this time.
I won't TELL you the tale of woe about the day the power went out and I lost almost two pages of work.
Apple needs to get with the program and add 'auto save' to their word processing software.
Are you listening Apple Corp.?
I'll bet not.
I learned my lesson though. I am now composing with paper and ink and only using the computer for transcription. It's working better for me too. So I suppose old Mac did me a left handed favor.
Anyway, I hope you enjoy it. :-)
Chapter Two
Violet clutched the fat envelope, unaware for the moment that she was creasing the paper violently with those lilac netting gloves, and ascended the stairs methodically, much like an urbane drunk trying desperately to appear sober.
She endeavored to wrap her mind around the fact that she was known here, apparently a visitor, who had a routine that the staff were familiar with, and had the pleasure of a correspondent of unknown origins. When just half an hour ago, she had been minding her own business in a used book store. She was beginning to regret the lemonade as her stomach churned a bit thinking about the entire situation.
She reached the landing and made her way down the hall to her room, and fumbled in her reticule for the key, juggling her brown paper packages tied up with string. Those very words ran through her mind, which unfortunately caused her to think of Julie Andrews swinging her arms around on top of a Swiss mountain somewhere. This of course increased her disorientation and she fairly fell into her room as the door swung open.
She took in the yellow and white striped wallpaper, honey colored wainscoting, and pale green drapes before sinking down on one of the two chairs that were arrange on either side of a table that was pushed up against the windows. Her room looked out onto the street. She could hear the sounds of horses and carriages, footsteps and voices below.
Looking around the room, she saw a wardrobe on one wall and a washbasin stand with clean towels and soap on the other. A twin bed and nightstand completed the furniture. Picking up her parcels, Violet opened the nightstand drawer and tucked them away. She went to the wardrobe and when she opened the door, saw her reflection in the full length mirror. She reached up and fumbled around trying to find out how to get that silly hat off her head and finally found the long hat pin that was holding it fast to her hair which was piled up in a simple bun. In the ‘other’ time, Violet’s hair was cropped very short. She undid the pins holding her hair up and watched as it cascaded down, well below her shoulders. She blinked. This was going to take some getting used to.
Violet spent several minutes working her way out of her outfit. Tiny buttons, hooks, stockings, garters, petticoats, and a corset later, she stood in her bloomers and camisole staring at the wardrobe wishing with all her heart to find her flannel jammie bottoms and comfy T-shirt somewhere in its recesses. But no such familiarity greeted her. She settled for a high waisted rather elaborate dressing gown of pale pink. She left the top three buttons undone in protest of overdressing.
There was a knock at her door, which caused her to button them right back up.
She opened it to find two hotel workers. One with linens, one with a large tray of covered dishes. With a short, “Good evening, Miss Winslow.” they set to work on her table by the window, laying out what looked like enough food for three people. Violet thanked them politely and they stepped smartly out the door.
She sat down and stared at the food. Sliced roast beef swimming in gravy, piped mashed potatoes that had been browned on top, and glazed carrots rested on a gold rimmed plate. Two large fluffy dinner rolls, a generous square of molded butter and pot of what looked like apricot jam sat tastefully arranged in the formal manner. Alongside her water goblet sat a glass dish with raw celery and several radishes that had been trimmed to look like roses, and finally, there was a china dish sitting in ice, covered with a silver lid. She lifted it to find a large scoop of sorbet with two cookies tucked to one side.
Violet wasn’t sure she was going to be able to take even one bite of this regal spread. She picked up a roll and split it open, spread on some butter and took a bite. It was delicious, but her throat sort of closed up when she tried to swallow it. She sipped some water to get it down. She stirred the potatoes around a little and speared a round of carrot and ate that without too much trouble. But truly, she just could not eat this kind of food at the moment. However, the sorbet looked soothing, so she took the bowl over to the bed and propped herself up and slowly ate the whole thing, thankful for something cold and smooth going down into her jittery stomach.
As she was spooning the last melting bite into her mouth, she heard a sharp rap on her door. Are they back so soon she thought? I could not possibly have finished this meal so quickly.
When she opened the door, there stood a short man in a light brown suit with a rather shocking yellow waistcoat, holding a cane with a metal knob on it.
“Hello Miss Winslow.” he said, “May I come in?”
“Do I know you?”
“Not yet. Did you receive the letter I left for you?”
“Yes, I have.” She said, “But I haven’t opened it yet.”
“Good, good. Just as well.” He said, cheerfully. “May I come in?” he repeated, this time with a bushy eyebrow cocked and his head tilted.
“Yes, come in.” Violet stood aside as he walked through and was about to close the door, when he turned and said, “You better leave that open if you want to keep your reputation intact.”
She stared at him.
He walked further into the room and eyed the table full of rapidly cooling food.
“Lost your appetite have you? It happens.” He said with a slight smirk. “Mind if I?”
“Be my guest.” Said Violet. “But first, would you mind telling me who you are?”
The little man straightened up a bit, and made a slight bow. “Cornelius Dunbar, at your service.”
Violet doubted that he would do her any kind of service whatsoever. She was developing a powerful dislike of the man in the brown suit. No doubt fueled by the lack of nourishment after recent inexplicable events, exacerbated by the burden of being draped in way too much clothing. A frown was forming on her forehead, that had Mr. Dunbar known her better, would perhaps have put him off his feed, but he was too busy forking slabs of roast beef into his mouth and buttering up the untouched dinner roll, to heed the warning.
Violet plopped down onto the bed and watched him make short work of her meal.
“Do you have the book?” he mumbled, with his mouth full of radishes.
“Yes, I do.” Said Violet, her eyes narrowing. Another clue missed by the diner.
“Good, good.”
Finally, with a sigh of satisfaction, he pushed himself away from the table and pulled a toothpick out of his waistcoat pocket and stretched his legs out in front of him, leaning back in the chair.
“Would you mind closing the door?” he said.
“What about my reputation?” Violet said with feigned shock.
“We’ll have to chance it. We mustn’t be overheard.”
“Oh all right.” She got up and closed the door with rather more vigor than was strictly necessary.
“Well, Miss Violet Winslow, I am here to inform you that you are hereby conscripted into the Vade Mecum Society.”
“The what?” Violet snapped.
“The Vade Mecum Society.” Cornelius said patiently.
“I’ve never heard of such a thing. What are you talking about?”
“There are a great many questions I won’t be able to answer right now, Miss Winslow. What you need to know is that we are short on time, and you are in grave danger.”
Mr. Dunbar had no idea how much danger he was in as he sat so confidently in his chair.
Violet took a deep breath and slowly let it out, then gathered another. “Listen here Mr. Dunbarton...”
“Dunbar.”
“All right, Dunbar, I’ve had about enough of this whole thing. I realize you don’t know me very well, but I do not join organizations that I know nothing about. I don’t like to be rushed, and I haven’t done anything to put myself in danger. I’m a cautious person by nature. I avoid drama. So you can take your mysterious letter and your snarky attitude and march yourself out that door right now!”
Violet had no idea how non threatening she looked, dressed in the overly feminine, pink dressing gown, pointing her finger toward the door.
Dunbar seemed supremely unmoved by her emotional state. In fact, he made himself more comfortable in his chair and locked his fingers together over his recently filled stomach.
“What about the book? Are you going to let me take the book also?”
Violet opened her mouth, then closed it, took another deep breath and glanced at the bedside table.
“No. That’s my book, I paid for it and I’ll keep it thank you very much!”
Mr. Dunbar let an oh so brief look of disappointment pass over his face. “Aren’t you a bit curious why you are so attached to a book you just bought, and you don’t know anything about?”
Violet looked at him squarely. “I’ve always been looking for a book just like it. It’s perfect. I don’t really care what it’s about. And, I want to keep it.”
Dunbar sighed. “It’s funny, that’s what they always say.”
“Who always says?” Violet demanded.
“All the Travelers. Every one. It’s so predictable.”
Violet decided to sit down and take another tack. “Listen, I have nothing against you personally, and I don’t mean to insult you or your organization, but I’m really not interested in joining you.”
“Oh, I’m not a member.” Said Cornelius, his face this time carefully concealing his inner disappointment.
Now Violet was really confused.
“The book chooses the Travelers, Miss Winslow. I’m just the errand boy. But, I do have a job, and my job is to get you and your partner on the road before anything can happen to you. We usually have a few days of relative safety, then things can get dicey.”
“Partner?”
“Questions, Miss Winslow, questions. Too many questions. I suggest you put them aside for now and let your instinct for self preservation take over, because I cannot stress enough, that you are in danger.”
“Listen sir, we are in Bogwillow. Nothing dangerous happens here. It’s a quiet town.”
“When you opened the book in the bookstore Miss Winslow, what did you see?”
Violet remembered the last words she had read... ‘They were coming.’ She sat glaring at Cornelius with her mouth set in a very unattractive frown.
“Exactly. He said. “Listen to me, I have to leave now. You need to know two things. One. Don’t read the book. There is a proper procedure for reading it and if you don’t follow that procedure, you may be given unreliable information. Two. Open my letter, and do what it says. Exactly. You only have a short time to get ready. If you choose to ignore me, I will not be responsible for the events that follow.” He said the last words with a serious tone that was not lost on Violet.
“I will take my leave now Miss Winslow and call on you in a few days.” He stood up, found his walking stick and hat, and let himself out.
Violet sat on the bed, staring at the closed door. Her poor brain flitted from one thought to another in such rapid succession that she felt in danger of experiencing her second time shift of the day.
She looked at the nightstand. Out came the envelope and the book. She opened the envelope first and found a stack of money. She flipped through the old fashioned looking notes and saw there were hundreds of dollars. Enclosed was a long list:
One sturdy pair of boots.
Two blouses (subdued colors please)
Two riding skirts.
Small clothes
Warm jacket
Gloves
Etc, etc.
There was an additional one for foodstuffs and supplies that read like a list for summer camp.
Then Violet picked up the book and undid the string. She spread out the paper and gazed again at its “just so” beauty of form. As to function, well... She opened the book to a random page in defiance of Mr. Smug Dunbar, and began to read.
Cornelius sauntered down the hall, pleased with himself for getting such a fine free dinner. ‘I give her one chance in a hundred. What a snappy little female. No sense of adventure, and, none too bright either. Sigh. Worst Traveler since... let me see what was her name?... Gloria something. Dreadful woman. She didn’t last a week.’
Violet snapped the book closed in alarm and anger. She turned it over and over in her hands. What was this thing?
She nearly jumped out of her skin when there came a knock at the door. She opened it to find the two waiters. In they came to clear away the dishes. If they had any thought about the fact that there was barely a crumb left on any of the plates, they kept it to themselves.
As they were leaving, Violet suddenly thought of something.
“Would the hotel happen to have a dictionary I could borrow?”
“Why yes Miss Winslow, I’ll ask the desk clerk right away.”
A few minutes later the clerk rapped on the door and delivered it. Violet thanked him and hauled the rather large tome over to the table and in the waning evening light looked up ‘Vade Mecum’ and read these words:
- Something a person carries about for regular use.
- A book for ready reference: manual, handbook. A handbook or other aid carried on the person for immediate use when needed.