9781250816214

He is tall, taller than her husband even, but so skinny, a riot of golden
hair tangling up from his skull like a crown of buttercups. His eyes burn
into her, staring, staring, looking for something he cannot find in the very
cellar of her being. Oh, she hates them! She hates his eyes instantly and
forever. They are blue and green and brown all at once, fringed with long
lashes, so bright Sophia looks away. An ungovernable shyness cripples her.
She does not want to look at the stranger. His gaze peels her open like an
unripe green almond. He should not look at her like that. Sophia does not
want to look at any man but her husband. She does not want any strangers
in her life at all. She crosses her arms over her chest to keep him out. He
frowns at this gesture, as though it is not entirely his fault.
“Mr. Semengelof, come in!” purrs Mrs. Lyon. “Mrs. Minke, Mrs.
Fische, this is Mr. Semengelof, he is a most extraordinary musician, just
back from travels abroad—you will tell us all about your journeys through
all those thrilling foreign climes, won’t you?”
“If you wish.” He bows slightly at the waist. His voice isn’t like the
voices of the women. Sophia hardly thinks she hears him at all. She feels
his voice, sawing over her heart like an unresined bow.
“Where did you go?” Sophia says softly. What a strange name. What a
strange man. She wishes he would just turn around and leave again,
immediately.
But he does not. Mr. Semengelof turns to fix her with that every-colored
stare again. He does not say one single merciful word for a long time. Far
too long for any sort of manners.
“Far,” he answers, as though that suffices.
Sophia wants to scream. She can feel the scream trying to claw up out
of her belly.
“Well, I’m sure I can’t imagine anywhere better than our own Arcadia
Gardens!” Mrs. Lyon sniffs.
Mrs. Minke’s small eyes narrow even further with gossipy delight. “He
was tracking a criminal, Sophia. Can you imagine? A criminal, just outside
our gates! It’s positively thrilling. She could have descended upon any one
of us, at any moment! Snatched our babies in the night or ransacked our
homes! Oh! Too horrid! It makes one feel just terrifically alive.”
Sophia can hear the scream in her head, echoing off the walls of her
skull. She tries to speak normally. Is she speaking normally? Is her voice
too loud in this suddenly small room?