Last year, I started writing a series of stories called The Virtuous Feats of the Indomitable Miss Trafalgar and the Erudite Lady Boone (Trafalgar & Boone for short). Its focused on two formerly antagonistic archaeologists and monster hunters who are forced to work together in the 1920s. Sort of a Bering/Wells meets Helen Magnus thing. I liked the stories, readers liked the stories, but I couldnt help thinking they deserved a true novel, not just a collection of short stories. So Im rewriting it. This is the part of the prologue I managed to get out today. Sneak peek! Prologue 1899 The boys sat on the divan in the Boone family parlor, spines straight and hats resting properly underneath folded hands. Theodore Weeks, Esquire, and William Anderson the Second smiled politely and nodded as they waited for the girls they had called upon to arrive. Mary and Olive, the eldest two of the Boone girls, were preparing for their dates that evening. The family butler waited by the door to chaperone the happy couples. Clara Boone, matriarch, smiled as she interrogated the boys, never giving them any indication that she was seeking any reason whatsoever to send them away. It appeared that they were suitable suitors, as her husband Bernard was wont to say, and she was extraordinarily pleased at the prospect of their girls finding happiness. There was a clatter from the front porch. Both boys turned their heads to look so they missed the moue of irritation that crossed Clara Boone’s features. She looked at the butler, who responded without words that he understood the cause of the disruption as clearly as she did. He turned to step outside to quell the chaos, but something small and surefooted slipped past him into the house. He lifted his arms and jumped back to save his uniform from being dirtied by the ruffian that darted into the house. Clara shot to her feet. “Dorothy Boone!” The whippet thin child froze where she stood. Her shirt, an inheritance from her older brother, was untucked and smeared with dirt and grass stains. The bright red hair their maid had spent so long braiding that morning was a maelstrom around her head. She had a smattering of freckles across her brow and the bridge of her nose, but a stranger would never be able to tell due to the mud smeared there. Most offensive, however, was the girl’s lack of shoes and the trousers - also Bernie’s - that were rolled up tight above her bare knees. “What...” Clara looked her youngest child up and down. It seemed to be the only word she was capable of producing, so she repeated it. “What...” “Fierce creatures, mum,” Dorothy said. Her mother bristled, her eyes flashing anger at the improper speech. “Young lady...” She was cut off by another rude arrival, a small orange creature that bumped the ajar door and flashed up the stairs almost too quickly to see. Dorothy twisted to watch the cat and already forgetting her mother’s ire - or more likely deducing that she couldn’t get into deeper trouble than she was already in - and pounded barefoot up the stairs in hot pursuit. There was a screech and a yowl from the second floor, a flurry of screams from the older girls who had apparently gotten in the way, and then a door slammed. Clara, flustered, watched as the maid hurried upstairs to try and put a lid on the tempest in their teapot. The butler straightened his vest and looked at her, and then they both looked at the smears of mud that now marred their fine entryway. Crimson flooded Clara’s cheeks as she turned back to the boys and forced a smile. “That... was... our youngest daughter. Dorothy.” She smoothed her hands over the front of her dress and took a seat. “I assure you, Mary and Olive are quite docile in comparison to her.” The boys smiled, but shared a sidelong glance with one another. Both were wise enough to leave their mutual thought unspoken, that sometimes docile was nowhere near as fun as unpredictable. # Dorothy’s nemesis, an orange shorthair named Jasper, was curled at the foot of her bed fast asleep by the time Grandmother Eula arrived that evening. Dorothy had been bathed and banished to her attic bedroom to await her punishment. She didn’t mind missing dinner as she’d stashed a loaf of bread in her toy chest a few days earlier, and she welcomed the reprieve from socialization to spend more time with her books. She was dressed for bed when Eula knocked on the door. “I hear someone was a bit rambunctious today,” the older woman said as she came inside. Dorothy was seated on the floor in front of her bed, legs folded in front of her. She closed the book and puffed out her bottom lip. “I didn’t mean to cause a fuss.” Eula walked to the window seat and eased herself down. She patted the cushion and Dorothy got up to join her. Jasper opened his eyes to see what all the movement was about, then twisted his head upside down and went back to sleep. Dorothy put her elbows on her knees and pushed at her cheeks with both fists. Her grandmother patted the top of her head and smiled down at her. “You’re still reading the books I got you.” Dorothy immediately perked up. “They’re amazing. I can’t believe all the other worlds buried under this one. Thousands and thousands of years of history and we’re just looking at one tiny sliver of it. All these people who ruled the entire world and we don’t know any of them. Ozymandias.” Eula and Dorothy intoned together: “‘Look on my works, ye Mighty, and despair!’” Eula laughed. “And one day our world will be dust, and some rowdy little girl will read about it when she’s supposed to be getting punished. There are whole worlds out there waiting to be uncovered. Forgotten worlds to be dug up. Treasures to be gained. Monsters to be vanquished. They’ll wait until you’re old enough to go find them yourself. Don’t be in such a hurry to grow up, dear, and don’t antagonize your parents with your pretendings. You’ll need them to finance your real adventures.” She tapped the side of her nose and winked. Dorothy smiled. She threw her arms around her grandmother and held her tightly. “Thank you, Grandmother Eula.” “Of course, dear. Now your mother told me you were sent to bed without supper. That is only fair, I suppose. I hope you can survive your hunger until breakfast.” She reached into her bag and produced an apple, a banana, and a block of cheese. She tucked them under a pillow and shared a secret smile with her granddaughter. She kissed Dorothy on the forehead and patted her arm. “Be good, Dorothy. Or, if you cant do that, be bad cleverly.” “I’ll try, Grandmother.” When the older woman was gone, Dorothy retrieved the cheese and went to her bed to share some of it with Jasper.
Posted on: Mon, 11 Aug 2014 03:38:23 +0000
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