Soliloquy

I was informed the next morning that Lily and I would be attending a small gathering in Hunstville of some of the other families in the area. Lily felt that I should meet some of the other girls my age in town, and I was not going to object. I was not exactly excited to meet more young females, for even in London I had only a few close friends, but I hoped that they too, would share my pain of being alienated by the Morgensterns. It was to be in the afternoon, however, and so I was left to my own devices for the entire morning.

It was just as foggy as it had been for the past two days, and it even dampened my spirits a little. I was determined not to let that bother me, though, and decided I would do a little poking around in the library. I remember Mother always saying, "A book is like a garden carried in the pocket," which she said was an ancient Chinese proverb. It didn't really matter to me where the quote came from, all I knew now was that books reminded me of my mother. She was the type of person who read books the way drunks consume liquor, she always had something else to read. It didn't matter to her what she was reading, all she needed was any book to make her happy. I grew up with a great respect of books, but I never was able develop the same appetite for books that my mother had.

The library at Deathcreeke was even larger than I could have imagined. I had not seen the two rooms that split off from the main area. In those two rooms were even more books and a plethora of couches and chairs. I wandered through the two side rooms and then came back to the main room. A fire was burning at one end and a chaise and two large chairs surrounded this cheery scene, and I noticed that the chairs were worn down, so I knew that the Wainwrights must be a family of readers. For some odd reason, this comforted me.

I sat down at one of the chairs and pulled my feet underneath me and watched the fire glow. I felt safe here, and I liked feeling that way. Closing my eyes, I could almost taste Mother here with me. And after so much pain, it was a relief to feel a certain lightness in my heart.

My breathing became slow and even and I opened my eyes. Outside, the world was grey and brown. The library was warm and colorful. Looking next to me, I finally noticed something I hadn't before. One a small side table next to one of the chairs sat two books.

Picking up the first one, I saw that on the cover it had a green filigreed indentation of what looked like a serpent. It was in a circle, and the serpent had its tail in its mouth, as if it were eating it. I flipped open the book and saw that it was written in Ancient Greek, a language that I only had a little knowledge in. Flipping some pages forward, I saw that there was more writing in what looked like Arabic, and figured that whatever had been written in Greek must have been repeated in Arabic. Skipping those pages, I saw that it was again repeated in English. My eyes flew over the sentences. The book was confusing, and was obviously written a very long time ago. It was a story about a man, who had dreams of other men being burned and boiled alive. It was strangely eerie and I shut it before finishing the entire thing.

I set down that book and picked up the second one. It was newer than the other book, but still looked at least a hundred or so years old. On the cover were the words Mutus Liber, which, even though I only barely knew Latin, I could decipher as meaning "The Mute Book", or maybe "The Silent Book." I opened it and true to its name, it was simply filled with different pictures. The pictures were fairly intricate but not exactly beautiful drawings of people doing a number of different actions. After looking over the book briefly I closed it and wondered why I'd spent all that time reading two books that had absolutely no meaning to me whatsover.

"Ah, I should learn to put my things away," came Charles's voice. I looked up and saw that he was walking towards me.

The Mutus Liber was still in my hands and I looked from it to Charles. "Oh, were you...reading these?" I asked. Charles grinned and nodded. I cocked a smile. "They're not exactly light reading, I must admit."

At that, Charles laughed. "No, my dear, I confess not. And to you, they probably seem like absolute nonsense."

"I cannot lie and say they do not. Would you care to explain them to me, then?" I asked him.

"Well," he started. "To put it simply, it's alchemy." His voice had no hint of humor in it, but still I laughed.

It made me think of my Grandfather on my father's side. Even though the ancient practice of alchemy had long become obsolete with the Scientific Revolution and Newton's Laws and all that, my Grandfather still clung to the old ideas. He would tell me of the basics of alchemy quite often. There were four basic elements in the world, according to alchemy: Fire, water, air and earth. Everything in this world could be created by combining these elements. Alchemy was the art of breaking things down and putting them back together in different ways. However, with the introduction of chemistry, the ideas became regarded as nonsense, and Father had always scowled at Grandfather when he would talk about the Philosopher's Stone. To the ancient sorcerers, the Philosopher's Stone was the pinnacle of alchemy. The mythical stone could apparantley turn water into wine, lead into gold and could make the bearer immortal. My grandfather believed it all, but I'd just like listening to his stories, even if I didn't understand it all.

"You really believe in alchemy?" I asked.

Charles smiled mysteriously. "Who knows. You see, The first book, the one written in Greek, that one is called The Visions of Zosimos. He was Greek alchemist who had these dreams that he wrote down here. His version of alchemy was that of a religious experience and he believed that humans, like water, could be purified. Some Christian ideas have their roots in these stories." Charles took the book from me and pointed to the front. "This picture of the serpent eating its tails is called the Ouroboros and represents the neverending cycle of life and death. And of course, Zosimos was the first man to think up the idea of the homunculus...the artificial man."

I stared at Charles. The story of the homunculus was one I had heard from my grandfather. At the time it was just a fanciful tale, he told me that there were places in the world where people actually grew people from the plant known as the mandrake. "So why were you interested in this?" I asked.

Charles looked at me gravely. "The other book you have, The Silent Book, is a book that illustrates the making of the Philosopher's Stone. Do you remember the legend that Lily told you about the family Morgenstern?" he asked me. I only nodded in response. "Well you see, the more detailed version of the story goes that Nathaniel Morgenstern was an alchemist who discovered how to make a Philosopher's Stone. Of course, this all was before the Mutus Liber was published, but that is besides the point. The legend was that he used the Philosopher's Stone to give life to the lifeless...he would reanimate the dead. He became a teacher, and although he did not reveal how he had made the Philosopher's Stone, he gained power and money. Then he was given a vast sum for a commission of a homunculus for a powerful and wealthy man who had no heirs. Nathaniel supposedly made this man, but when he came to life, he realized he was too perfect and that he defied the wishes of God. So Nathaniel killed the homunculus and ran away to America. His family, though, stayed here. The rumor is that he told his wife where everything was in case one day she needed it."

"So you believe that the Morgenstern family still has access to the Philosopher's Stone?" I questioned.

Charles faltered. "I am not sure. But it is odd, how they all live together like that with no other family. So I am apt to wonder sometimes..." He smiled at me then and was about to say something else when Lily came in.

"Ah! There you two are! Come along Faerie, it is time that we go into town to the Gardener's party. Charles, we will be home in time for supper," she informed her husband, who only nodded and smiled gaily.

"I have no doubt that you will be, my darling." With that he turned back to me and winked. "If you have the need to know more about alchemy, I do have a few other books on the subject buried somewhere around for you. I could ask Peggy to search around for them."

I shook my head at that as I departed from the warm chair. "No, that won't be necessary, thank you, though." Charles smiled and bowed his head a little. He met up with his wife, gave her a chaste but loving kiss on the cheek, smiled at her and departed through the library door. Lily turned on me with a beaming smile and took my elbow and we set off into town.

Huntsville's shops were small, but it had elegent town houses, and our carriage stopped in front of a very well kept, three story home. The maid who answered was polite and curtsied lowly and led us into the drawing room. A strange, nervous feeling that hadn't at all been present during the carriage ride suddenly appeared. What if the girls here were exactly like the Morgenstern girls? I doubted anyone could be that lovely and that strange could ever exist out of the Morgensterns. They seemed an altogether different race of humans, as if they were somehow more different than I could possibly imagine...

The young ladies and their mothers stop chattering suddenly at the sight of me. I wanted to run away, back to Deathcreeke and curl up into the chair by the fire. I would have even read The Visions of Zosimos over again if I could just leave this societal torture chamber. Thankfully, Lily gracefully overcame the suddenly crippling bout of shyness that had suddenly overtaken me. "May I have the honor of introducing the daughter of my husband's business partner, Miss Faerie Brighton, who is coming to stay with us for awhile," she said, beaming, and one of the women, I assumed the hostess, got up out of her seat and curtsied deeply.

I returned it as she spoke. "How lovely of you to come. I'm Elinor Gardener, and this is my daughter Victoria," said she. I curtsied to Victoria, who sat near to her mother. Victoria was a perfectly beautiful and perfectly boring young girl with flaxen curls and deep chocolate eyes. She had a fine figure and wore a dress that complimented her skin tone well.

She smiled at me. "Oh, Miss Brighton, I do hope you'll sit here," she said as I made my way over to her. I noticed that all the young ladies sat in a sort of circle sipping their tea and biscuits while all the mothers sat around in another circle. It was interesting. The young ladies were there to discuss gossip, flirtations and dances, while all the mothers were there to discuss marriages, dowrys and all of that sort of thing. I wondered what Lily would say. My parents had put together my large dowry a long time ago and I no longer had to worry about anything. Of course, maybe Lily could tell them all how I'd been paid attention to by Prince the previous night. Victoria turned to me as I sat down and the maid came over with a cup of tea. "Where are you from?" she asked.

"London," I told her.

Victoria gasped. "London! How very chic. I would love to go to London to have a Season, but the only relative there I have is my aunt Catherine who is quite a dreadful thing. But we all-" at this, Victoria motioned to the five other young ladies, who all looked my age or a little older, "must learn to make do with the young men in this region. It is hard, but we will find suitable husbands, I am sure."

I smiled. "Have none of you considered any one of the eligible Morgenstern males?" I inquired.

All of the girls, Victoria included, threw pained glances to each other. Then Victoria turned to me. "It is true, all the Morgenstern boys are all that is handsome and amiable, but the girls, especially Wren, are so awful, we can't be around them for fear that they'll murder us!" I looked around to the other girls, who were murmuring softly and nodding their heads.

"Yes well, they did not seem exactly friendly last night, but Prince was all that was friendly and obliging," I responded. Victoria didn't respond. "It is no matter. I was planning on staying out of the way of the females anyway. I don't think they liked me much, but I suppose they don't like anyone much." Victoria did smile at that, and the conversation seemed finished.

A dark haired girl with a plain face leaned forward towards me. "It is just nice to see you staying with the Wainwrights. Lily often comes alone and while she seems happy, we all know she is still devastated by the loss of her child..." My heart skipped a beat. So I had been right, the family had lost a child. That was why Charles had been so embarrassed when I'd asked if they had any children. Now I felt even worse, knowing it was true.

"Oh yes, poor Alphonse. You know, my mother said she was there on the day of his baptism. At least he died a good Christian. He must be up in heaven with all the other little angels by now," said a halfway pretty girl with mousy hair and freckles who wore a dress of unbecoming yellow. All the young ladies sighed and looked up to the ceiling, as if they were revering their god, which they were. I sipped my tea daintily, feeling awkward and embarassed.

"What did he die of?" I asked quickly, bringing the girls back down to earth. Victoria looked around to the group.

"I'm not quite sure, all I know is that it was awful. Some dreadful, dreadful disease. The strange thing was, after he died, they kept it very quiet. Lily didn't even go into mourning. They didn't talk about him, either. I suppose the pain was too much..." At that, I turned slowly and looked at Lily. She laughed along with all the other mothers and chatted. A surge inside my heart hoped that she was discussing my marriage. For some reason, I wanted her to think of me as a second daughter, and I wanted to think of her a sort of mother figure. We could never take the place of the ones we had both lost, but I hoped that I could give her a little happiness.

I looked at Lily very closely. Her mouth laughed, but I saw that her eyes were just a little far away. How long had they been like that? Sadness clutched at me and I turned back to my new friends. But I felt the farmiliar brush of cold air on the back of my neck. Death was close, I could feel it.