The Greatest Obsession

Chapter Twenty: Church for the Sinner

Sundays were typically early mornings in the Snow household. Elijah was awoken by Preston at seven, scrubbed down, and left to dress in his finest quality clothes by a quarter to eight. Walking past his fiancée's room on his way to the dining room, still groggy from the abrupt start of the day, the young master realized she had it far worse. Irina would be up by five-thirty and washed before curlers were shoved into her hair to tighten whatever looser curls she had. She'd have to have her nails filed and polished, her brows reshaped, and her makeup applied. Elijah thanked God that masculine dress was no longer an equal spectacle to that of women and sat at the table with his soon-to-be father-in-law at the head.

The old man smiled at his extended family while reaching across the table for sugar. "Good morning, my boy."

"Good morning," Elijah yawned, glancing down at his sausage. Elijah still wasn't used to eating before mass. His family raised him on the belief that on the Sabbath one should take the body and blood of Christ before consumption of the everyday meal. However, Elijah lived in the Snow house, now, and would follow Abraham's rules.

Just eat light, he thought, nipping off the tip of the meat with his front teeth. It's what you did last week and the fortnight before and so on.

In the mornings, the candelabras were not lit nor were any manmade light such as lamps. Elijah kept his eyes on the silver candle holder, watching bits of sunlight speckle in and out of focus in its polished reflection. It reminded him of Haydn. Elijah figured the ancient beauty was tucked away somewhere in the Monahan estate sleeping, hiding from the very rays of light he peered at, now.

"How are you feeling?"

Quickly, Elijah turned to his superior. "What do you mean?"

"I only mean to inquire about your mood, son. I wouldn't dare to attempt to psychoanalyze you so early in the morning," Abraham said, followed by a smiling chortle.

Elijah grinned back. "I appreciate it. I don't think you'd like me psychoanalyzed."

"No one would like anyone."

"Yes," laughed the boy, "but I am feeling tired, which boggles me a tad because I slept like a babe for the first time in a long while."

Abraham shrugged. "It happens to us all. Pass the honey, would you, Elijah?"

The exchange took place without a word, only a nod in thanks from the old lord. A heavy breath puffed out of Elijah as he held a cup of coffee between his fingers, one that he found waiting for him when he joined the table. He liked sugar, but not cream. Abraham must have told Margaret to make the cup before Elijah's arrival for it was already sweet. He could have moaned as the steam pressed into his face.

Irina arrived in a sweet, golden dress, one that was a quarter length in the sleeve, and propped by a slimmer bustle. The skirt beneath was a pale shade, blue perhaps. Her long red curls were pulled into a waving and curling bun, and the hair nearest her forehead was purposefully frizzed as decreed by society as attractive.

The family of three finished their meals with little conversation, wanting to be off to church before nine.

Abraham, being the gentleman he was, set for two carriages. Of course, one was for Abraham, Elijah, and Irina. The second was for Margaret and Preston, who were devout Catholics, themselves. They would be meeting their respective spouses and children for mass.

Upon arrival to The Church of the Immaculate Conception, the servants were lost to a sea of individuals both well-dressed and not. Elijah was saddened by the loss of daylight he'd seen while in the dining room. The grayness clouded the youth, draining him of whatever energy he had as he huffed towards the steps on Farm Street with Irina's arm wrapped around his elbow.