“I myself appreciate punctuality,” I said. “And do forgive me for intruding upon your family. If I could have waited until tomorrow, I would have done so, but unfortunately I must be back at Thrupp for my classes.”
“You teach at the college.”
“Yes.”
“Your business must be urgent,” she said, in another attempt to ascertain the reason for my call.
I was silent.
“I am sure the college is quite wonderful, but Thrupp is a dreary little town,” she said.
“I think a town may be dreary or not depending upon its inhabitants, Mrs. Keep,” I said. Miriam Keep bristled, and I hastened to amend my reply. “But Thrupp is in no way equal to the charm of this village,” I added.
“No,” she said, and smiled thinly. “I hope that my sister shall rediscover this charm for herself shortly,” she added.
“And I have hope that she will not remain long enough in Exeter to test its charm,” I countered boldly.
“Really, Professor Van Tassel,” she said, surprised but also intrigued, “you reveal yourself at last.”
“It is a joyous revelation, I assure you.”
“You have strong affection for my sister?” she asked.
“The strongest.”
“And does she know of this?”
“She does.”
“I am surprised, then, that she did not mention this to me. You are aware, are you not, that Etna did not put up any impediment to leaving her uncle’s household?”
The slight had been meant to wound, and it did. “Perhaps she felt it her duty to return with you, however briefly,” I said. “Or perhaps she thought the change of venue might bring a swift and happy conclusion to her deliberations.” Then I hastily added, so as to defuse the mild tension between us, “And, of course, I am certain that she has missed her sister a great deal.”
Miriam Keep did not yield at the compliment. “My sister is deliberating a proposal?” she asked. “A proposal of marriage?”
“Yes, she is.”
“How extraordinary,” she said, examining me so thoroughly this time that she actually narrowed her eyes. Perhaps she was short-sighted. “I had no idea. And how doubly extraordinary that she has remained silent. Well, I cannot say whether or not I wish you to succeed, Professor Van Tassel, since I do not know you at all.”
“No.”
“But I can assure you that I have the greatest desire for my sister’s happiness,” she said.
“And why should your sister not have happiness?” said a voice from the hall.
Josip Keep’s sudden and massive presence in the doorway matched the rich baritone with which he spoke. The man was nearing forty, I surmised. He had a head of silky black hair that had been richly oiled and waved back from a slightly receding hairline. It was a handsome face, one used to entitlement.
“Dearest,” Miriam said, rising at once, which seemed an odd reversal of manners. “This is Professor Van Tassel, who has come to see Etna.”
“At this hour? On a Sunday?”
“Forgive me,” I said.
“We are off to worship,” he said (somewhat rudely, I thought; he had not even introduced himself ). He drew on his gloves. “Are you a man of faith?” he asked.
“Of some faith,” I answered carefully.
“And where do you worship?”
In fact, I was not fond of worship at all and did not do so as often as I ought to have. Consequently, I had attached myself to a Presbyterian parish some five miles from the college on the theory that few men of the faculty would be drawn to such an inconvenient venue. (Though one day I was surprised to see Moxon in a pew opposite; but since he was as irregular as I in attendance and as loath to expose his laxity further, we did not greet each other after the service, nor speak of this coincidence, much in the way that men who have frequented the same brothel will fail to recognize each other at a place of business some days later.)
“I am a Presbyterian, sir,” I said.
“I see. We are Unitarians.” Somewhat dismissively, Keep turned away from me. Presbyterian had failed to impress him. “Miriam, where is your sister? We shall be late.”
“She will be here shortly, dear.”
“I hope this is not indicative of her habits,” he said.
“I’m sure not,” Miriam, who seemed somewhat cowed by her husband, said.
“And the children?”
“Etna will bring them.”
“It will be crowded in the pew,” Keep said. “Perhaps Etna might sit with the children?”
“If you think it absolutely necessary,” Miriam said, with a quick glance in my direction.