toward Vicky touches me. I would like to reward you, if I may.”
So saying, Lady Cornwall grabbed Cowperthwait in a grip of iron, tilted him backward and kissed him in the Continental manner, thrusting her tongue deep into his mouth.
Cowperthwait’s cane discharged thunderously into the floor.
5
THE FATAL DANCE
F OR SEVERAL DAYS after the visit to Lady Cornwall’s Lyceum, Cowperthwait moped about like a love-sick schoolboy. The surprising denouement to his visit, in which Lady Cornwall had revealed the passion which lurked beneath her competent exterior, remained vivid in his mind, obscuring all other matters. Even the notion of finding the missing Queen was cast into shadow.
Cowperthwait had for years dreamed of marriage to a perfect companion. The woman would have to be smart and amiable, literate and lusty, free-minded and foot-loose. Truth to tell, his creation of Victoria had been something of an experiment along crafting the perfect bride he could not find.
Now, in the person of Lady Cornwall, he was convinced he had found her. Smitten by her soul-kiss, he could think of nothing but joining their fortunes and estates together. A woman who could appreciate “Sexual Dimorphism Among the Echinoderms” was not to be found every day.
Seeking McGroaty’s opinion of the woman, Cowperthwait was somewhat dismayed by the manservant’s undisguised disdain of her.
“She puts me in mind of a sartin Widder Douglas I knew, back in Hannibal, Moe. Always a-trying to reform and change people, which in my book is about as pointless as tossin a lasso at the horn o’ the moon. Plus she’s all-mighty bossy. You mark my words—if’n you two get hitched, she’ll have you scrubbin’ her knickers on washday faster’n spit dries on a griddle.”
Cowperthwait would have liked to have McGroaty endorse Lady Cornwall, but it this was not to be the case, then McGroaty would have to simply lump it. After all, an opportunity like this came along only once in a lifetime. . . .
The lone difficulty in Cowperthwait’s view lay in how best to broach his proposal. It would have to be handled just right. . . .
When scarred Vicky visited shortly thereafter, for her first treatment with growth factor, Cowperthwait entrusted her with a note for her mistress.
Dearest Otto,
Our adventure is etched in flames upon my cortex. If you could possibly see fit to entertain me again, I would like to consult with you upon making our alliance a permanent one, so that we may offer each other mutual aid and comfort.
Your earnest admirer,
Cosmo.
The reply he received with Vicky’s next visit was rather brusque.
Dear Sir:
I am not at present of a mind to agree to any such permanent and exclusive arrangement as, if I read you aright, you are tendering. Let us submerge our feelings for the nonce, and remain simply friends.
Otto.
This cold water dashed on his marital hopes threw Cowperthwait into a blue funk. He spent the next few days homebound, reading and rereading a passage in Blore’s Exceptional Creatures about the Giant Rat of Sumatra. Eventually, however, he realized that such behavior ill-suited him. Thrusting aside all consideration of personal happiness, he plunged once more into his quest for his vanished sovereign.
Every waking hour was devoted to the increasingly futile search for the vanished Queen. Accompanied by McGroaty, the young natural philosopher combed the festering warren that was lower-class London; silhouette in hand, feverish, sleep-deprived brain alert for any trace of Victoria.
By daylight and gaslight, aboveground and below, amidst the noisy market crowds or alone in a rooming house with a work-worn suspect female, Cowperthwait pursued the mirage of Victoria.
From fish-redolent Billinsgate to the prison hulks at Gravesend, where convicts lay sickly in bilge-water; from Grey’s Inn law offices where pitiful petitioners pled their cases to tubercular sanitariums where angels like one named Florence
So saying, Lady Cornwall grabbed Cowperthwait in a grip of iron, tilted him backward and kissed him in the Continental manner, thrusting her tongue deep into his mouth.
Cowperthwait’s cane discharged thunderously into the floor.
5
THE FATAL DANCE
F OR SEVERAL DAYS after the visit to Lady Cornwall’s Lyceum, Cowperthwait moped about like a love-sick schoolboy. The surprising denouement to his visit, in which Lady Cornwall had revealed the passion which lurked beneath her competent exterior, remained vivid in his mind, obscuring all other matters. Even the notion of finding the missing Queen was cast into shadow.
Cowperthwait had for years dreamed of marriage to a perfect companion. The woman would have to be smart and amiable, literate and lusty, free-minded and foot-loose. Truth to tell, his creation of Victoria had been something of an experiment along crafting the perfect bride he could not find.
Now, in the person of Lady Cornwall, he was convinced he had found her. Smitten by her soul-kiss, he could think of nothing but joining their fortunes and estates together. A woman who could appreciate “Sexual Dimorphism Among the Echinoderms” was not to be found every day.
Seeking McGroaty’s opinion of the woman, Cowperthwait was somewhat dismayed by the manservant’s undisguised disdain of her.
“She puts me in mind of a sartin Widder Douglas I knew, back in Hannibal, Moe. Always a-trying to reform and change people, which in my book is about as pointless as tossin a lasso at the horn o’ the moon. Plus she’s all-mighty bossy. You mark my words—if’n you two get hitched, she’ll have you scrubbin’ her knickers on washday faster’n spit dries on a griddle.”
Cowperthwait would have liked to have McGroaty endorse Lady Cornwall, but it this was not to be the case, then McGroaty would have to simply lump it. After all, an opportunity like this came along only once in a lifetime. . . .
The lone difficulty in Cowperthwait’s view lay in how best to broach his proposal. It would have to be handled just right. . . .
When scarred Vicky visited shortly thereafter, for her first treatment with growth factor, Cowperthwait entrusted her with a note for her mistress.
Dearest Otto,
Our adventure is etched in flames upon my cortex. If you could possibly see fit to entertain me again, I would like to consult with you upon making our alliance a permanent one, so that we may offer each other mutual aid and comfort.
Your earnest admirer,
Cosmo.
The reply he received with Vicky’s next visit was rather brusque.
Dear Sir:
I am not at present of a mind to agree to any such permanent and exclusive arrangement as, if I read you aright, you are tendering. Let us submerge our feelings for the nonce, and remain simply friends.
Otto.
This cold water dashed on his marital hopes threw Cowperthwait into a blue funk. He spent the next few days homebound, reading and rereading a passage in Blore’s Exceptional Creatures about the Giant Rat of Sumatra. Eventually, however, he realized that such behavior ill-suited him. Thrusting aside all consideration of personal happiness, he plunged once more into his quest for his vanished sovereign.
Every waking hour was devoted to the increasingly futile search for the vanished Queen. Accompanied by McGroaty, the young natural philosopher combed the festering warren that was lower-class London; silhouette in hand, feverish, sleep-deprived brain alert for any trace of Victoria.
By daylight and gaslight, aboveground and below, amidst the noisy market crowds or alone in a rooming house with a work-worn suspect female, Cowperthwait pursued the mirage of Victoria.
From fish-redolent Billinsgate to the prison hulks at Gravesend, where convicts lay sickly in bilge-water; from Grey’s Inn law offices where pitiful petitioners pled their cases to tubercular sanitariums where angels like one named Florence
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