Night on the Talbot

by Arline Chase

In 1912 a woman plans to leave her husband for a charming neer-do-well, while her spinster sister and 12-year-old daughter conspire to frustrate her intentions. When she leaves to meet the Other Man on the steamboat, TALBOT, her whole family shows up to take a hand in the action.

ISBN 978-1-59431-887-0 Romance

Also available in RTF and HTML formats.

CHAPTER 1

Cambridge, MD October 11, 1912

I may be no more than a young girl, but I knew when something was wrong with my family. And something was very wrong. It felt to me as if everyone in the house was in an evil mood. I just couldn’t put my finger on why.

I carried the paper into the front hall, now crowded with trunks and boxes packed for our trip to Baltimore. It hadn’t yet occurred to me that there was much more luggage than we would need for a few days shopping trip and I was happy and excited when I ran straight into Mama’s younger sister, Aunt June. She grabbed me by the nape of the neck (I hate that) and spun me around to face her.

“I’ve put Raymond down for a nap, and I want you to lie down too, Leslie. You know the steamboat won’t leave the wharf tonight until eleven o’clock. You’ll be up far past your bedtime and you’ll be asleep on your feet if you don’t rest now.”

“But I’m not sleepy, now! I can stay awake, I’m no baby.” My brother was only five, but I considered myself quite grown-up. After all, I’d be twelve on my next birthday. “Let Raymond go to bed, but I shan’t!”

I protested so loudly that Mama came out to see what the commotion was all about.

Mama was as beautiful as Aunt June was plain. It was hard to believe they were sisters. With her hair in ringlets, fresh from the curling iron, and her lace-trimmed chemise peeking out the open, but tightly-laced bodice of her morning dress, Mama looked as fresh and pretty as a young girl.

Aunt June’s hair was pulled severely up into a knot on the top of her head, though little curls escaped around her face, no matter how tight she poked in the pins. Her brown woolen dress was chosen because it was what she called ‘serviceable,’ rather than for fashion. Shortsighted dark eyes that appeared too big for the rest of her face always looked at you so hard they seemed to be searching your soul. Indeed, Mama often chided her, “Don’t stare so June! It makes people uncomfortable.”

But I think she was really just trying to see. Papa once remarked that there wasn’t anything to her except eyes and backbone. I don’t know what he meant by that, unless it was because she was so skinny.

Of course I loved my Aunt June, but sometimes she got on my nerves something terrible, an attitude that was not mine alone.