“It will say so much more than any of his paltry letters during the war. He’ll tell me they’re well. It’s either Philadelphia or New York they’ve landed in, I haven’t decided which. They’re employed at a hotel. A remarkable one. One of fashionable society. Caleb serves dinner to the patrons, roasts with champagne sauce and jelly, kidneys stewed in wine, and all through the night an orchestra plays classical music that keeps everyone’s spirits light. Prentiss, well, he works in one of the smoking rooms. There’s smoke in the air, of course, and you can hear the clack of balls from the billiards table. The place is populated by the greatest minds visiting the city and they talk of new inventions, of what the future might hold, and after months of quiet in the woods, Prentiss basks in the atmosphere, the invigorating intelligence, storing it all away in his mind for safekeeping. The boys have beds just like the patrons. Spring beds, not straw. Even the help deserves more than a straw bed in New York City. They’re allowed to eat whatever is left over from the extravagant dinners, and late, when everyone else is asleep, they might sneak into the smoking room with Prentiss’s key and play a game of billiards…
“I don’t know, Clementine. This is what comes to mind. I do wish there was more. Perhaps my imagination is limited, but with such a picture in place, who needs the words to make it all true?”
Clementine stirred, rapping her seat with the palm of her hand in delight. “Truly magnificent. I have no question it’s accurate. A mother has a sense of such things, and those boys have the determination and cunning to make it true.”
“Thank you,” Isabelle said. “That makes two of us, then.”
“I bet Landry would be ecstatic for his brother,” Clementine added. “For Prentiss to have made it so far in the world…”
Hearing the name was enough to make Isabelle seize. They had spoken of Landry once before, at the graves, that time Clementine came for dinner, but as with Caleb, he was never discussed with Mildred, and so Isabelle hadn’t talked of him with anyone since.
“I’m sorry,” she said. “I wasn’t expecting to hear his name.”
Clementine leaned forward in her chair, the dank smell of her overcoat reaching Isabelle as she drew near.
“I didn’t mean to upset you,” she said. “It’s just that from what Prentiss told me, he had a strong tie to his brother, and I can only assume Landry would be happy for him to be gone from the madness of this place.”
“Prentiss told you of Landry?”
“In his cell,” Clementine said. “I envy you for knowing him. How curious he came off. Prentiss told me about his fascination with water.”
This was news to Isabelle, for neither brother had shared such a thing with her, and she said as much. Then Clementine told her all. How Landry would gaze upon the fountain at Majesty’s Palace, seeking it out whenever he could. The way Prentiss had described him, it was as though it was a part of his build, this connection to its beauty, its inner workings. How something mysterious and fine lay under the ground and caused it to operate endlessly. On and on, just like life.
Perhaps Clementine noticed the pain on Isabelle’s face, the realization of an intimacy kept from her. Her tone shifted, her enthusiasm cooled.
“Of course, this is based on what little Prentiss told me under duress,” she said. “Between his words and the impressions you’ve given me, I’ve probably made something of a myth out of him.”
The wind returned, a frenzied, bitter gust, and even within her wool coat Isabelle wished she had a shawl. Her skin would be blotched by the end of the day.
“I’m not sure what to say.”
“Then say nothing,” Clementine said. “My interruption has been long enough already. If I can just find that girl of mine running about.”
As if on cue, a sharp cry of joy erupted behind the cabin. Isabelle called Mildred’s name, and although her friend didn’t respond, the door of the chicken coop shut with a thud.
Clementine was already standing. Her hair was buffeted by the wind, waving like the branches of a tree caught up in a storm. She gave Isabelle a hug and stepped down the stairs.
“Perhaps one day soon, somewhere along my travels, I will run into our two young men walking down the street as a pair, dressed to the nines as attendants for the greatest hotel around. Their day done, their ties loosened, perhaps. Hats in hand. Readying for a night on the town.”
Isabelle smiled, warmed by the idea. “There have certainly been greater coincidences.”