Looking back, looking forward. on At Home

Cynthia Elphwick

April 30, 2020 4:16 PM

Looking back, looking forward. by Cynthia Elphwick

Oregon was not one of the hotter places in the United States, much less the hottest, but it was hot enough just the same. Midsummer was only a day past; somewhere, Cynthia supposed, her sons were on their way back from Arizona right now.

She had thought about going to the transportation center again this year - veiled, discreet, just to see them with her own eyes for a moment - but she had finally decided against it. It was too painful, especially if Nathaniel recognized her despite whatever disguise she put on, which she for some reason that he would. That would be painful for her, for him, and it would make it all the harder for them both. Better to endure the now familiar pains, she thought. For now.

As she stared, melancholy, out of the window at the childrens' old treehouse, she lifted a glass of iced tea to her mouth and then looked around when she heard the door to her boudoir - now a far cozier space than her sons had ever seen it, with more color; she had considered taking some photographs of her own, to hopefully help her convince Nathaniel that she was in the right between them, but had not done so yet - open and close. She smiled at the sight of her second husband, who had a letter in his hand.

"For me?" she asked.

Franklin nodded, his face clearly very deliberately neutral as he walked across the room to hand her the letter, addressed in a narrow, slanting hand - somewhat shaky, as though the writer were using his left hand - to Cynthia Mordue in emerald green ink. On the back, the letter was sealed with a blank, nondescript blob of green wax. She broke the seal and began to read.

Dear Mother,

I suppose this will be my last letter for a while. The Ball is just over; I will post this in the morning, and then I will have to return to Uncle's.

The event went well. I was neither engaged nor in disgrace by the time I left Miss I. Brockert - Cynthia stifled a laugh at this description - and Jeremy also behaved in a perfectly decorous and gentlemanly manner with Miss Priory. I would have told you about her before, but Jeremy didn't tell me about her in advance - I think he may not have had a plan for the evening when he arrived?

Since I assume you do not intend to stop being stubborn yet, it will please you to hear that Miss Priory and her brother both associate freely with their inferiors, for no particular reason (and no, I don't agree with your position that Mr. Mason counts as me doing the same thing; I am a prefect, and he seems to have adopted me as something of a patron, which is proper; it seems he is a half-blood of illegitimate birth anyway, a proper enough position for a client to come from). I do not think, however, that Jeremy thought of this, and we can agree that he did well. He also spoke to me of his own accord later, and asked how I did; it was most unexpected. I hope he may have finally begun to grow up - that we may not need to worry about him so much - though of course I will look after him, as always. I don't forget my promises.

Summer is a long stretch - to think I used to look forward to it! I will do all I can to help Jeremy and look out for him. Don't worry about that.

Nathaniel

Then, beneath this, in pencil, there was an addition - I will write again as soon as I get back to school, but if you are in trouble I will find a way. All my love, and Jeremy's, if he would only admit it - NM.

Cynthia pressed the letter to her lips for a moment, then handed it to Franklin.

"Does he know you show me these?" he asked, reading.

"I have told him that we don't have secrets," said Cynthia. "But not that I show you his letters, in so many words."

"Hm." Franklin folded the letter and handed it back to her. "And you're - stubborn, he says," he added, with a brief flash of an amused smile.

"Where do you think he gets it from?" she asked with a laugh. "Certainly not his father - Nicky was as changeable as the weather."

"And you the poor rock, in wind or sun or rain," said Franklin. He looked her in the eyes. "But if he's just as firm in another direction, Cynthia...how does this end?"

Cynthia shook her head, partially to avoid his eyes, and partially in pure negation. "Don't you see?" she said. "He's already halfway out of their grips - if he still really believed it all, he wouldn't write me at all. And how long has it been since he even mentioned you? He's less concerned with protecting me from you, than in protecting Jeremy from Alexander - yes, I know, it's silly," she added quickly. "And it's my fault - I never should have told him I needed him to help me with his brother, when Nicky left," she acknowledged. "I didn't realize how...affected he was, but...it's going to be all right," she said stubbornly.

Franklin sighed and sat down in the window seat with her, wrapping an arm around her waist as she settled back against his shoulder. "I hope you're right," he said into her hair. "You pure-bloods, you're too subtle for me. I just hope you're right."

She was, Cynthia told herself. She was. It could not be otherwise. She had to be right about this, and that was all there was to say about it.

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