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Category Archives: Proserpina

Someday, perhaps, I will stop writing stories about dangerous little girls.

Radiane

Radiane is breathless and pale outside the headmaster’s door when they emerge.

“Ah, Miss Theodorakis,” he says. “Did you need something?”

She hands him a note.

“Withdrawn?” says the headmaster. “Hold on here, Mrs. Macnair.”

“What?” says Proserpina’s mother.

“It’s notarized,” says Radiane, her eyes never leaving Proserpina’s face. You have betrayed me, they say. I can’t do this alone. I took everything you gave me and it isn’t enough and I’ll kill you, don’t go–

Proserpina’s eyes are silent.

“Your daughter,” says the headmaster, “is being removed from this school.”

“By whom!”

“My husband,” says Proserpina, quietly and at last.

Proserpina

“I won’t permit this,” says Proserpina’s mother, who is scared and worried and upset and has nothing else to say.

“You can’t prevent it,” says Proserpina. They’re waiting at a train station: almost a year ago (only a year ago?) she arrived here for fall term. She remembers her steeled jaw, her buried fear.

“You’re my daughter–”

“You wanted me to take up with the Buchanans, to secure our future. Well, I have.”

“I wanted you to be safe!”

“None of us is safe,” says Proserpina, as Dacelo walks in with hope on his face, and his father follows with hunger.

Proserpina

The Lees’ rooms are small and bright. Madeleine Havisham is not large, but she barely fits on Elijah’s mother’s little mattress, curled up with a hand at her mouth.

“Thank you for this,” says Proserpina.

Elijah says nothing.

“She can’t stay here,” says Proserpina. “They’d just–I’ve talked Mr. Buchanan into taking her on as my tutor. On the steamer with us. I think she’ll accept.”

“Don’t you,” says Elijah, and his voice shakes. “Don’t you need a porter? Me fetch carry very good, Miss Lady. Only two dollar–”

“Elijah,” she whispers, and tries to kiss him. His lips are cold.

Proserpina

Two trunks from school, full of socks and Greek tragedy. Proserpina owns very little. Train to the station, carriage to the dock. Tension at the gate, checking tickets; Madeleine Havisham is, after all, a wanted woman.

But no. Above the ramp, clouds are gathering. Proserpina catches an upside-down headline under someone’s arm: EXCLUSIVE! ABDUCTION, ABUSE AT ST SEBASTIAN SANITARIUM. Iala told her father after all.

The great ship casts off with a bellow. Proserpina stands at the rail, watching her mother dwindle. People begin to murmur and gasp around her as, from the darkening May sky, snow begins to fall.

Proserpina

“It was a grift to begin with, on you and your ma,” says Buchanan, spitting seeds off the stern.

“I know,” says Proserpina.

“But you turned it right about on me.”

Proserpina waits.

“I don’t think you respect me; I know you don’t trust me. That’s good. Don’t start. But you’re what I need, gel. I think you and I can do things that my son’s too gentle to learn.”

Proserpina keeps her eyes on the wake, leading back to the world she knew.

“Let me teach you,” says Ganymede Buchanan, “to be dangerous,” and holds out a strange red fruit.