Kay's Story pt 9 - Sylvia's Shock

The next day fair weather made everyone’s spirits brighter.  There were more children’s games, which Elianna eventually joined, being much less timid when it comes to young creatures.  Meagan Anderson, a girl of eight years, took to Elianna quickly, and before the afternoon she had introduced her to her parents Susanna and John Middleton.  The Middletons had four beautiful daughters and one son.  Susanna invited her to share the evening meal with them.  Elianna and she soon discovered that they shared much in common—a love for nature and drawing, and a desire to be immersed in the beauty of God.  They both were rather clumsy and awkward in large gatherings.  Their upbringings were also similar, rich with Christian tradition from the stream of Puritanism, strict but full of grace, staunchly conservative yet not legalistic, full of life and warm laughter and close family ties.  Susanna marveled that Elianna had been brave enough to venture so far from home on her own.

            “You’re in love, aren’t you?” Susanna said with eyes glimmering certainty.  “That’s why you’re doing this.  I can see it in your face and hear it in your voice.  It’s as though there is a note of distant longing in every sentence you utter.” 

            Elianna could not have been more taken aback.  She shook her head and cast down her eyes with a demure blush.

            “No…no.  I…I suppose you might say that a man is involved in my reasoning, but…”

            “I knew it!” Susanna reached across the table and grabbed Elianna’s hand.  “What’s he like?  Oh how I love a good international romance!  How did you meet a Scotsman?”

            “Now, hold your horses.  David is a good friend—that is all.  Besides, he is already devoted to another…woman—the very woman I will be working for and living with…”

            At this moment they were interrupted by John saying, “Let’s make some more room at this table for the Mültmanns.  Elianna, have you met Ferdinand and Jasna Mültmann yet?”

            Elianna found herself looking up at the mysterious handsome man and his princess companion, both of whom did not smile welcomingly as the Middletons presently were.  Introductions were made formally, Elianna exchanging polite nods with the man and woman.

            During the next hours Elianna discovered that Ferdinand and Jasna were brother and sister, and they were not overly eager to converse or share personal information about their lives.  What she heard, however, was that they had both emigrated from Germany to England with their family when they were young.  There the Mültmanns had gained considerable wealth by building and running a clothing factory, as well as exporting and importing textiles.  They had always wished to visit America, and had finally done so for Jasna’s twenty second birthday.  Ferdinand spoke slowly and methodically when he did speak, but Jasna most often answered for him with a little more fluidity and grace.  Still, these two foreigners struck Elianna as detached and lofty in their auras, and although she could hardly drag her eyes away from their unmitigated beauty she found it challenging to find much of anything of interest or fascination in their company.  Their personalities wore on her until she was too tired and vexed to continue.  After excusing herself courteously and with focalized, half-true regrets, she retired to her room wondering how much more of the Mültmanns she would see during the remaining ten days of the voyage. 

            With much hesitancy and trepidation, Elianna finally forced herself to open Sylvia’s book again.  A sigh escaped her lips as a pained expression stole its way across her features.  She needed to finish this journal—this accursed and foolhardy journal—before she reached Scotland’s shore.  She needed to know but hated to know the truth behind all that had transpired.  Thus far Sylvia’s cavalier words had only drawn blood from her soul as with a dagger, opening old wells of anger and regret.

            The next entry was from the 9^th of December, 1909.  Sylvia had just gotten word from home that her parents wished for her and her brother to spend the winter in Virginia instead of returning for Christmas as had been the original plan.  Her parents needed time to travel to the Continent to take care of her grandmother in Spain who had fallen very ill. 

I am still in shock from this news.  My heart was set on leaving.  I have had my fill to the brim of what this primitive land has to offer.  I shall surely perish from boredom.  Even David provides little stimulation for me.  His charms have become rather simple and not in the least entertaining.  Am I pouting?  Yes!  This damn turn of events has me more vexed than a miserable pen can express!  There now—I have gone and sworn; this miserable country has torn the refinement away from my womanhood, along with my patience.  Oh, how shall I bear these months, trapped against my desire, with these ridiculous Americans?

As incensed as Elianna felt by this entry, she pushed the rising indignation down and struggled for the calmness to advance further.  The next entry that followed was from the 11^th of December, only two days later.  Sylvia was complaining again, bemoaning her lot, not even able to enjoy the first snow.  She was homesick and lonely (Who would want to be her friend anyway? Elianna thought harshly), and hated the religiosity of the town.  All she wanted from church was to get the sacraments, feel better about herself, and get out.  The church was useful to plug her into the salvation system, but she wanted it to stay out of the rest of her life.  These old fashioned puritan ways were irksome to her.  She had had enough.

            As Elianna continued to read, something strange and comforting happened.  Sylvia began to endear herself to her somehow.  As the entries became more frequent, and the fires of “trial” burned hotter, Sylvia fell into desperation.  She was so overwhelmed that her façade fell, her coolness melted, her false insouciance collapsed.  A broken, desperate girl began to emerge in those pages—a girl who finally seemed more real and less insipid.  Like a whimpering puppy on the roadside in the rain, how could Elianna help the subtle rays of compassion that slowly began to glow within her?

            For Christmas Lady Ashmore gave Sylvia two books.  Elianna was surprised that she had never known about this.  The first was a small work by Henry Scougal, The Life of God in the Soul of Man.  The second was a more recent volume of selected sermons by Charles Spurgeon. 

            Sylvia’s comment was, “She must not know me well as I thought.  When have I ever hinted a penchant for reading, especially books of God.  Even my Bible is seldom touched.  Perhaps she seeks to reform me in my tastes.  My hope is that she is not holding her breath to see the day when I read the likes of Spurgeon.  Even father despised his fanaticism.”

            “That ungrateful snippet!” Elianna said aloud.  Then she yawned and looked at the clock.  Nearly midnight.  She needed to take a walk in the fresh, moon-drenched air.  She needed to pray.  Sylvia would have to wait until tomorrow.