All He Ever Wanted(13)

“Just so,” I said. “You have been feeling confined?” I asked disingenuously (I who would liberate her only to possess her).

“My aunt and uncle have been exceedingly kind, and I couldn’t wish for better company, but as I am new here and have not yet had opportunity to make acquaintances of my own, I have had few occasions to venture out.”

“I’m sorry to hear that,” I, who was not, said in reply.

There were not many persons on the street, and the going was messy and awkward. I felt then the slight embarrassment that attends a foolish decision, as we had sometimes to part and then come together again. Occasionally, the path had been cleared of snow by an industrious Yankee, and we were able to walk normally for a time.

“It’s awful,” she said, “to contemplate the ordeal of the victims of the fire.”

“One cannot imagine,” I replied.

“I was surprised by the fire’s speed. It’s a wonder more did not die,” she said.

“A wonder.”

“Shock is a strange reaction in the body and in the soul, don’t you think?” she asked. “I was calmer the night of the fire than I was when I woke the next morning. My hands were trembling then, and I had to lie down again in my bed.”

“It is common,” I said, distracted by the thought of Etna Bliss in bed. Was she wearing a silk nightgown? Were her sheets rumpled with sleep? Was her hair in disarray?

She stopped walking. “Professor Van Tassel,” she said suddenly, pausing in her journey. “I should like to see the hotel.”

“It is a disastrous ruin,” I said.

“Nevertheless.”

She stood her ground, and I had the distinct impression she would not be moved. I gently turned her in the opposite direction, and we walked on in an uncomfortable silence. While I thudded corporeally over the muddy ruts and snow, Etna seemed to glide just above the surface, a feminine trick of walking that no man can master. Significantly, as we passed the Bliss household, neither of us glanced in its direction.

“What classes do you teach at the college?”

“A bit of everything. English literature from Chaucer forward.”

“Then you must spend your days in the company of Spenser, Milton, and Jonathan Swift,” she said, and from that comment, I deduced that Etna Bliss had some education (an academy? self-schooled?).

“I fear I spend my days in the company of too many dull and restless students,” I said.

“Oh, surely not, Professor Van Tassel. Surely the students of Thrupp are well above average.”

“Perhaps so, Miss Bliss. Perhaps it is only the professors who have grown dull and restless.”

“I’m certain you would never be considered dull,” she said politely; and how my heart leapt at this first compliment to my person, however much manners may have dictated her reply.

“Do you anticipate swift settlement of your mother’s estate?” I asked as we walked up Wheelock toward the village center and the college quadrangle, myself scarcely able to think for the pressure of her gloved hand upon my arm, an exquisite sensation even through layers of clothing.

“No, I don’t think so. I have two married sisters whose husbands are — how shall I put this? — perhaps excessively protective of their wives’ financial interests in the matter.” I heard in this forthright reply the suggestion of herself as the sole unmarried sister.

“Are you close to these sisters?” I asked.

“I was close to my mother,” she said in half reply.

“Couldn’t you have remained at your house until the estate was settled?” I asked.

“The estate is being settled for debts. The largest creditor, my sister’s husband, Josip Keep, has taken the house for himself.”

“I see,” I said, beginning now truly to see. I steered her out of the way of a passing carriage.

“I envy you your freedom to live alone, in a room of your own, to study in your chosen field and thus be of service to your community by teaching,” she said suddenly.

How did she know I had rooms of my own? I wondered. Had she asked her uncle for details of me? And might I take this as a sign of some interest on her part?

“Freedom, Miss Bliss, is entirely relative. Some religious believe, for example, that true freedom lies in perfect obedience.”

“I should like, for once, to be obedient to myself!” she said quickly in the way of someone who has spoken a thought before it can be edited. I must admit I was taken aback by this remarkably forthright statement.

“Then why haven’t you?” I asked.

“I have remained too long under the loving protection of my mother and sisters, and now, like many of my sex, I have forfeited certain necessary skills to go forward on my own.”