Emmeline of Cambridgetown
Chapter 4
It is two weeks since Emmeline’s rejection of Dante Corvette. Much has transpired for the Baxters of Cambridgetown, and the short lived burst of excitement for Emmeline and her suitor has been forgotten by all. All, but, of course, Emmeline.
While Anja and Madame Uptop tend to the wounds of Upchamp Baxter, their father, Emmeline sullenly scratches sad poetry into the stairs with a jagged piece of charcoal. Alas, stilted and unappealing as she, Emmeline’s poetry is not a welcome addition to the immaculate mahogany staircase.
“Emmeline, can you not dirty the house? Why, if you’re not willing to help father then at least don’t make more work for Madame.”
Emmeline draws in a breath and prepares a response, but before she can speak Madame Uptop whirls around and hisses at Emmeline. The warmth in her eyes that Emmeline caught a glimpse of those weeks ago has been replaced with a defeated, sad, stare. Emmeline is awash with regret but Madame has already turned her attention back to Upchamp Baxter, who is propped up in the corner, atop a Christmas tree blanket.
You see, Upchamp was given early leave from the Royal British forces in India. His premature dismissal was due to the unfortunate tragedy of having all his limps painfully crushed by a cannon.
“Tis the quaintest of miracles you survived!” The doctors cheerfully observed.
To which Upchamp could only respond “Oh my God kill me please, I’m in so much pain.”
Of course, Upchamp is no longer in the fetid jungles of India, instead back home: tending the family fortune, shucking corn, and spending time with his daughters. In his youth Upchamp had been quite the active chap, even playing varsity football for Oxford University. It was then quite a shock, for Emmeline and Anja, to see their once robust father return legless, armless. Each of the sisters had fond memories of father strutting into the front yard, triumphantly presenting two, sometimes three, plump rabbits.
“We’ll be having stew tonight!” They would clamour.
Instead, the sisters are subjected to the grim spectacle of the man who raised them, now legless and armless, vainly trying to walk through the front gates, only to topple over. He then proceeds to roll onto the estate lawn, bearing a tragic resemblance to a juicy ham being poked along a cobblestone street by a boy playing “hoop and stick”. To furthermore humiliate him, Bruno, the estate Daschund, happily trots over and proceeds to pin down, and vigorously rape him.
So now, Anja and Madame scrubbing Upchamp’s sores, and Emmeline skulking in the rear staircase, Upchamp opens his mouth to speak.
“Now ladies, Emmeline merely wishes to express herself, drawing on the stairs. Anja, you best treat your sister with respect. Why, as the oldest, Emmeline will carry on the Baxter fortune”
Anja lets out snort, “if she were to wed! Father, I’m sorry, but Emmeline just cannot seem to attract a suitor.”
Emmeline’s head lowers in shame, the greatest pain is that Anja is right.
“Why, then who is that fellow?” Upchamp waves his right stump in the direction of the window, leaking puss and blood onto the carpet.
The ladies eye each other in confusion and Madame Uptop goes to the window.
“Why Emmeline!” her eyes glowing “Tis Dante! He must never have left! ‘tas been weeks!”
Madame, Anja, and Upchamp all excitedly look to Emmeline. Surely she will admire this devotion!
Emmeline slowly stands up, Dante Corvette! Incorrigible!
“I will inform him… that he is wasting his time” Emmeline raises her chin high and goes to don a jacket, such cold autumn weather.
The three remaining in the room exchange glances. Upchamp Baxter goes to wink at Anja but instead his already mangled eyelid falls off and settles like a snowflake on the red and green Christmas blanket.
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