----------------------------------------
The next morning, as Mr. McPherson prepared to leave for his office, he suggested to Evelyn that they go to town together to explore new fixtures for the library.
“I don’t think we need new fixtures, Léonce. You tend to be extravagant. Saving isn’t part of your vocabulary,” Evelyn replied, her tone carrying a hint of reproach.
“The key to wealth is earning, my dear Evelyn, not hoarding,” he countered, disappointed that she didn’t share his enthusiasm for redecorating. After bidding her goodbye and expressing concern for her well-being, he left. Evelyn, unusually pale and quiet, watched him from the veranda, absentmindedly picking jasmine sprays and tucking them into her gown.
Meanwhile, the children played outside with their toy wagon, and the quadroon maid followed, feigning enthusiasm. A fruit vendor’s cries echoed in the street, but Evelyn seemed detached, lost in her thoughts, viewing her surroundings as foreign and indifferent.
Back inside, Evelyn contemplated addressing the cook’s recent errors but was relieved when Mr. McPherson took it upon himself, a task she felt ill-suited for. She hoped his persuasive arguments would yield a better dinner that evening.
Turning her attention to her old sketches, Evelyn acknowledged their flaws but couldn’t muster the mood to work. Gathering a few sketches she deemed acceptable, she prepared to leave the house. Dressed elegantly, she walked with a certain grace, her seaside tan fading, revealing her smooth complexion with freckles and moles.
As she strolled, thoughts of Taylor consumed her. Despite trying to forget him, his presence lingered like an unshakeable obsession, both fading and intensifying, leaving her yearning and perplexed.
Evelyn’s destination was Madame Rogers’s residence. Their friendship, forged at Grand Isle, remained strong, and they often met since returning to the city. Madame Rogers lived nearby, in a charming house with a French touch, where her husband owned a successful drugstore. Their fortnightly soirées musicales were renowned, featuring musical talents from the community.
Reading on Amazon or a pirate site? This novel is from Royal Road. Support the author by reading it there.
Upon arrival, Evelyn found Madame Rogers sorting laundry and was welcomed warmly into her presence without formality.
“Cité can handle this just as well; it’s really her responsibility,” Madame Rogers explained to Evelyn, who apologized for the interruption. She then called for a young black woman, instructing her in French to be meticulous in checking off the laundry list. Madame Rogers emphasized the need to look for Monsieur Rogers’s missing linen handkerchief from last week and to set aside items requiring mending.
Arm in arm, they strolled to the cool salon scented with roses. Madame Rogers looked particularly radiant in her negligee, showcasing her graceful curves.
“Maybe one day I’ll paint your portrait,” Evelyn mused, unfolding her sketches. “I feel the urge to create again. What do you think? Should I study with Laidpore?”
While knowing Madame Rogers’s opinion wouldn’t solely determine her decision, Evelyn sought encouragement.
“Your talent is immense, dear!” praised Madame Rogers.
“Nonsense!” Evelyn demurred, pleased nonetheless.
“It truly is,” insisted Madame Rogers, admiring the sketches with enthusiasm. “This Bavarian peasant is frame-worthy, and the basket of apples feels so lifelike. You can almost reach out and take one.”
Despite her modesty, Evelyn couldn’t help feeling a touch of pride at her friend’s praise. She kept a few sketches and gave the rest to Madame Rogers, who cherished them and proudly showed them to her husband at lunch.
Mr. Rogers, known for his cheerful disposition, joined them. His kindness and common sense endeared him to everyone. The Rogerss spoke English with a slight accent, contrasting with Evelyn’s husband, who spoke without any accent.
As they dined, Evelyn appreciated the simple yet delicious meal. Mr. Rogers, noticing her less vibrant appearance, suggested a tonic and engaged in lively conversation, covering politics, local news, and gossip.
Leaving their home, Evelyn felt a tinge of sadness rather than comfort. Witnessing the Rogerss’ domestic harmony didn’t evoke longing in her; instead, she felt a compassion for Madame Rogers’s seemingly uneventful life. Evelyn pondered the concept of life’s delirium, a fleeting thought that left her intrigued yet unsettled.