Read Online Coffins by Rodman Philbrick - Free Book Online Page B

“Emerson, yes, yes. The Sage of Concord, isn’t that what he calls himself?”
    â€œOthers do. Emerson himself is a modest man, despite his genius.”
    â€œI know him as a friend to the cause of women’s suffrage, and of course as a poet.”
    â€œAnd?” I prompted.
    â€œAnd what?”
    â€œWhat do you think of his poetry?” I asked, wanting to steer clear of the whole delicate matter of women’s suffrage, as it was not an easy topic for first meetings.
    Lucy sighed. “Poetry. Ah. No doubt Mr. Emerson is, as you say, a genius of some kind. But I find him rather dry. I’m more partial to the English poets. Byron, Shelley, Keats. Though I don’t care a fig for that man Tennyson,” she added.
    I was not startled to discover she was a woman of strongly held opinions—her confident poise suggested as much, and her mention of suffrage had indicated a certain fervor for the cause—but to dismiss Tennyson with a slight wave of her hand, it was somehow breathtaking, and made me admire her all the more, though I myself held Tennyson in high esteem. “Did you not appreciate ‘The Princess’?” I asked tentatively.
    â€œWhy? Because it speaks of women’s emancipation? Do you fancy me an emancipator, Dr. Bentwood? One of those modern harridans? The keening suffragist?”
    There it was, the subject I’d thought best avoided, until we were more thoroughly acquainted. And clearly she expected a reaction from me. “I would describe you as a modern sort of woman,” I said tactfully. “Never a harridan. And if you are a suffragist, you do not keen.”
    She liked that, and rewarded me with a smile. “If I admitted to a previous interest in suffrage, Dr. Bentwood, would you flee the room?”
    â€œCertainly not. But why do you say a ‘previous’ interest?”
    She shrugged prettily. “Before my father’s illness I did support the cause. Since that sad event I’ve retired from it, although still believing that I and all my sisters should have the vote.”
    â€œAnd so you would, were it mine to give,” I offered gallantly, but without the slightest confidence that such a thing would ever truly come to pass.
    â€œI think you are jesting with me, Dr. Bentwood.”
    â€œOh? I didn’t mean to offend.” I was glad of the gloom, or she might have noticed the blush upon my face. To cover my embarrassment I decided to change the subject from suffragists and poets to something more prosaic.
    â€œI understand you have a fondness for pinochle.”
    That earned me a lift of her lovely eyebrows. “Apparently my reputation precedes me,” she said. “Which leaves us with the question, does a ‘modern woman’ play pinochle? For all I know, emancipation and games of chance may be mutually exclusive.”
    â€œSurely pinochle involves skill.”
    â€œNot much. It’s all in the cards, as they say. Are you suggesting we play a hand? And what stakes do you have in mind, if you’re not, as you claim, a gambling man?”
    I was trying to think of a witty reply, something worthy of this intoxicating young woman, when Jebediah returned with the news that the Captain was “amenable.”
    â€œAh!” I turned to make my apologies and could not help but notice the look that passed between Jebediah and his cousin, as if they were both privy to a discomforting secret that could not be revealed in my presence.
    Before I could do more than bid her a hasty farewell, Jeb was hurrying me along a dark hallway deep within the interior of the great house. “He seems to be himself today,” he said. “And of course he’s greatly relieved that Charley survived.”
    â€œCharley?” I asked, racking my brains to think if there was a brother by that name.
    â€œYou’ll see,” Jeb said mysteriously. “Father is eager to meet you by the way. I