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Book: The Strangely Beautiful Tale Of Miss Percy Parker by Leanna Renee Hieber
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Authors: Leanna Renee Hieber
Tags: Fiction
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moment, Percy realized his expression wasn’t one of disgust, mockery or even surprise; it was confusion. Odd.
He began a roll call, managing to steal just one more glance in her direction. Then he arrived at her name. “Miss P. Parker?”
“H-here, sir.” Percy raised her hand.
The professor looked up from his roster. All eyes were upon her. Percy squirmed. The professor nodded slowly, as if he were trying to decipher a riddle. Then he moved on to the next name, and Percy could breathe again.
Class began. Professor Rychman was ruthless with his subject matter, and he flew through what he considered background material and began scribbling unending sequences of letters and symbols in all manner of baffling arrangements. Percy attempted to take notes but was soon lost. Hypnotized by the stern yet melodic sound of his voice, she found herself swept away by the cadence of his speech. Every movement and sentence held impossible confidence. His eyes managed to stare down every student over the course of the lecture, and even when his back was turned, his presence gripped the room. And by the end…Percy had a page full of numbers, dashes and circles, but not a clue as to their meaning.
Over the course of his second class of the day, Alexi repeatedly found himself staring past the spirits that floated through his classroom, focusing instead on a living girl who looked like one of their number. He would never admit to his students that he saw spirits; it was not something a man of science or sanity admitted. Still, he could not help but think Luminous as he stared at Miss P. Parker, imagining her a body possessed, like little Emily. But this student seemed in no distress, other than her nerves, perhaps, and none of his internal alarms was raised.
He wondered at the age of this unmistakable Miss Parker, for while it was clear her smooth cheek was young, there was something that distinguished her from youth, her pallor notwithstanding. A timelessness.
It did not signify. The true Grand Work would not involve his students.
Percy and Marianna met again in the dining hall, a room with wooden rafters and low chandeliers with portraits ofdour men and women parading the paneled walls. Cliques of other young ladies sat chattering. Percy and Marianna sat near a bay window that looked out onto the courtyard, sharing their thoughts on various teachers and what they foresaw as potential strengths and difficulties. Marianna was particularly worried about a speech barrier in her last class, while Percy couldn’t forget Professor Rychman.
“I’m afraid I’ll be made a fool in mathematics, I’m dreadful at the subject. But, oh, the professor! He’s magnificent!” she breathed.
“Yes?”
“Oh, yes, Professor Rychman. I can’t say I’ve ever…”
“Ever what?”
Percy had to turn away and butter another piece of bread to hide her blush. “Seen anyone like him,” she finished, attempting to sound nonchalant.
Marianna leaned forward with a smile. “I would think he has never seen anyone like you, either.”
Percy bit her lip. Though she’d been tortured over Mr. Darcy as a girl, she was terribly unprepared for being smitten with a living man. A blazing bonfire deep inside now sent lightning flashes to wake dormant dragons all over her body at any moment she thought of him, pictured him or spoke his name. But she knew better than to relay this to her new friend, so she and Marianna finished dinner and returned to their respective rooms.
That evening, as Percy readied for bed, she was struck by a vision: a floating feather, something on fire, the flapping of great wings; herself running barefoot down a long and misty corridor…She could ignore it no longer. The visions were coming more rapidly than ever before in her life, perhaps once a week now rather than every few months. She thanked heaven that the images usually waited until she was alone.
Suddenly she was overcome by the first vision she remembered ever having,
He began a roll call, managing to steal just one more glance in her direction. Then he arrived at her name. “Miss P. Parker?”
“H-here, sir.” Percy raised her hand.
The professor looked up from his roster. All eyes were upon her. Percy squirmed. The professor nodded slowly, as if he were trying to decipher a riddle. Then he moved on to the next name, and Percy could breathe again.
Class began. Professor Rychman was ruthless with his subject matter, and he flew through what he considered background material and began scribbling unending sequences of letters and symbols in all manner of baffling arrangements. Percy attempted to take notes but was soon lost. Hypnotized by the stern yet melodic sound of his voice, she found herself swept away by the cadence of his speech. Every movement and sentence held impossible confidence. His eyes managed to stare down every student over the course of the lecture, and even when his back was turned, his presence gripped the room. And by the end…Percy had a page full of numbers, dashes and circles, but not a clue as to their meaning.
Over the course of his second class of the day, Alexi repeatedly found himself staring past the spirits that floated through his classroom, focusing instead on a living girl who looked like one of their number. He would never admit to his students that he saw spirits; it was not something a man of science or sanity admitted. Still, he could not help but think Luminous as he stared at Miss P. Parker, imagining her a body possessed, like little Emily. But this student seemed in no distress, other than her nerves, perhaps, and none of his internal alarms was raised.
He wondered at the age of this unmistakable Miss Parker, for while it was clear her smooth cheek was young, there was something that distinguished her from youth, her pallor notwithstanding. A timelessness.
It did not signify. The true Grand Work would not involve his students.
Percy and Marianna met again in the dining hall, a room with wooden rafters and low chandeliers with portraits ofdour men and women parading the paneled walls. Cliques of other young ladies sat chattering. Percy and Marianna sat near a bay window that looked out onto the courtyard, sharing their thoughts on various teachers and what they foresaw as potential strengths and difficulties. Marianna was particularly worried about a speech barrier in her last class, while Percy couldn’t forget Professor Rychman.
“I’m afraid I’ll be made a fool in mathematics, I’m dreadful at the subject. But, oh, the professor! He’s magnificent!” she breathed.
“Yes?”
“Oh, yes, Professor Rychman. I can’t say I’ve ever…”
“Ever what?”
Percy had to turn away and butter another piece of bread to hide her blush. “Seen anyone like him,” she finished, attempting to sound nonchalant.
Marianna leaned forward with a smile. “I would think he has never seen anyone like you, either.”
Percy bit her lip. Though she’d been tortured over Mr. Darcy as a girl, she was terribly unprepared for being smitten with a living man. A blazing bonfire deep inside now sent lightning flashes to wake dormant dragons all over her body at any moment she thought of him, pictured him or spoke his name. But she knew better than to relay this to her new friend, so she and Marianna finished dinner and returned to their respective rooms.
That evening, as Percy readied for bed, she was struck by a vision: a floating feather, something on fire, the flapping of great wings; herself running barefoot down a long and misty corridor…She could ignore it no longer. The visions were coming more rapidly than ever before in her life, perhaps once a week now rather than every few months. She thanked heaven that the images usually waited until she was alone.
Suddenly she was overcome by the first vision she remembered ever having,
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