Why Are You Weeping, Sister?

Chapter 3

          "Really, Mother. Must we have dinner with those farmers tonight?" Henry Linderman made the profession sound like a profanity. He adjusted his cuffs, making sure the links were secure. He was very careful about his attire, given his appearance was nondescript at best, with a figure that could easily run to fat.

"Honestly, Henry. You'd think your uncle didn't own a brewery. Besides, they're not farmers any more. Mr. Graham died last year. The wife sold up for a pretty penny, and now has a nice nest egg. She also has a marriageable daughter. You should pay attention."

"Mother, there's no need for me to marry a rich girl, or even marry at all. You know uncle..."

"You don't know anything of the kind. You continually get up your uncle's nose because he has the mistaken idea you should go to work in his brewery. I've told him no son of mine will ever juggle kegs on a beer wagon. That damned Brehm pride gets in his way, and he threatens to cut you off without a pfennig. Now, my brother is planning to marry that young tart, and he'll be spending all his money on her. So you need to find yourself some rich young thing who can keep us both up."

Henry Linderman leaned back against the parlor's door frame. He had seen the girl walking with her maid this afternoon. The maid was more of interest to Henry than her mistress. Oh, they both had blue eyes, trim figures, and about the same hair color. The maid would be more malleable to his desires. Oh, she'd plead and beg, but he'd have his way with her, first chance he got. Maybe tonight wouldn't be a total waste. "Very well, Mother. What time are we expected?"

*****

"Thank you so much for having us, Mrs. Graham." Henry spent far too much time kissing Zenobia's hand to be proper.

"We are so happy you could join us, Mr. Linderman. I don't believe you've made the acquaintance of my daughter, Gwendolyn. Gwendolyn, dear, This is Mrs. Elfrida Linderman, and her son, Mr. Henry Linderman."

Gwendolyn wasn't sure if she should courtsey or offer her hand. "Welcome to our home, Mrs. Linderman, Mr. Linderman." Her first impression of Elfrida was that she was a woman of great substance, of Wagnerian proportions.

Ever the opportunist, Henry grabbed Gwendolyn's hand and deposited a kiss that was all together too moist to be proper. He refused to relinquish his hold on her, finally tucking her hand into his arm when Zenobia suggested they await their meal in the parlor. He managed to pull her down on the settee, far too close to him for decorum's sake, and still kept his hold on her hand. Gwendolyn did not like this man in the least.

"Mother, if you will excuse me for a moment, I'll see what's keeping dinner." She had to get away from this man before she embarrassed herself. If she bashed him over the head with the big Chinoiserie pot next to her, she doubted her mother would forgive her. If he didn't stop pressing into her thigh, she may just have to risk it.

"Certainly, darling. By all means. Check on supper."

Gwendolyn had to wait until Henry stood to get up, as he had her rather effectively trapped against the arm of the settee. She allowed him to help her to her feet, then excused herself to hide in the kitchen until Mary Kathleen could announce their meal.

"Mrs. Malone, how long until the first course?"

The cook opened the oven. "As soon as Mary Kathleen can pour the wine and get the plates on the table."

"Give me the bottle." Gwendolyn took the bottle of Muscadet and carried it into the dining room, where she poured four glasses. She helped Mary Kathleen arrange the four small plates, each holding six baked oysters on a bed of hot rock salt onto larger plates, then held the door for her so she could get into the dining room. Before the maid could call the guests to dine, Gwendolyn had one last instruction. "Mrs. Malone, please see that the courses are served rapidly. If I have to spend any more time than necessary in the presence of that disgusting man, I'm afraid I won't be responsible for my actions."