The Purpose of Miss Shepley

Chapter Two (part I)

A Poem
-- to the inestimable Miss Pearl Shepley from her humble servant DS

What sculptor carved these graceful iv'ry limbs
so skillful wrought from gleaming alabaster,
which makes my soul so glad it o'erbrims
and sets my longing heart to beating faster?

What jeweller set these sapphire gems for eyes,
gold threads for hair, and lips of coral pink,
which fill my wretched heart with want and sighs,
and happy dreams of love do make me think?

What luthier tuned this clear melodious voice,
so sweet its faintest breath brings untold pleasure?
It makes my admiring heart sing out, Rejoice!
Here is Beauty, wholly without measure.

And so your servant does his meager part
To answer your perfection with his art.

.:.

I did not faint entirely away, though for some time the world went completely black, and I heard nothing but a rumbling buzz. When I could hear again, the first words I heard were, "Give her air. Stand back."

I found myself cradled by a mousey-haired man I didn't recognize. He fanned my face and continued to command everyone to step back a few paces.

"Ah, eyes open again..." he said quietly. "Good." He took up my wrist and pressed it with two fingers. After a few seconds, he informed me, "Your pulse is still fast... Did you feel very warm?"

"Yes. And cold," I answered.

He nodded, seeming satisfied. "We should get you outside for a bit. Can you stand?"

My heart leapt with joy at this. "Yes," I said quickly. "Yes, I think I can."

He helped me up, which I found clumsy and bothersome. I resisted leaning on him at first, but I soon found there was no ladylike way to get my feet under me on my own -- not without ripping my dress, at least -- so I surrendered to depending on him in the end.

My grandfather came toward us, calling, "Doctor Brown, what's happened?" Miss Goodwin followed close in his wake with one dark eyebrow raised.

"Just the excitement, I think," the mouse-haired man said. "It's not uncommon for young ladies to be overwhelmed."

My grandfather grunted, "It's uncommon for her." I don't think he meant for anyone to hear him, but I did, and so did the doctor. As my head cleared, I began to feel acutely mortified.

"Yes, well... Not to worry." The doctor spoke with confidence, though he held onto me like I was an egg on a spoon, grasping me more firmly every time I shifted. "Fresh air will surely cure her."

My grandfather pursed his lips, then he nodded. "Very good, Doctor Brown. Thank you."

Miss Goodwin, all the while, watched me with questioning eyes. I flashed her a quick smile, and her expression turned politely blank again.

And thus, I escaped to the garden, after all.

Doctor Brown led me out to the balcony, gradually easing his grip on me as my steps grew steadier.

I leaned against the stone railing and sighed pleasure. Outside, in the cool air, away from the noise and the heat of too many bodies in too small a space, I felt wholly restored.

"Thank you," I said, fully in earnest. "I'm feeling much better."

Doctor Brown dipped his head. "Not at all."