The Horrifying Tale of Mrs. Trollope: Chapter 4, Part 1

?It?s funny how things simply seem to happen,? the old woman said while at the stove preparing dinner. ?On a whim and only yesterday, I fixed my dear departed Henry?s favorite meal. And though company drops in all but never, yet I had the feeling that someone soon would come knocking on my door. Sit down, children. Henry?s dinner will be ready in a moment.?

?I haven?t had stuffed cabbage since I was a little girl,? Clara said, surprised at the delicious aromas rising from the food so elegantly laid out before her. ?Dad used to fix it; my mother?s favorite, he used to say.?

?What a remarkable coincidence,? said their hostess. ?I hope this measures up.?

?I?m curious,? Jack said, studying his steaming hot dinner, ?how you were able to heat this up so quickly. You couldn?t have been in here more than a minute.?

?There?s that cat again,? she said, giving him a smile that would have sent a snake crawling out of its skin.

Jack took the hint; and with a swift change of the subject, he asked?for she?d made herself comfortable at an empty place setting?if she weren?t having something to eat tonight as well.

?Alas, no. My diet, I?m afraid, can include none of what you see before you. But there?s no need to concern yourselves on my account. Watching others enjoy that which my culinary skills have wrought is food enough for me.?

While Jack warily eyed his dinner, Clara, having realized she was starved half to death, dared brave a nibble or two.

?It?s ?Mrs. Trollope,? right?? Jack said, feeling it incumbent upon himself to raise the curtain on the evening?s performance.

?If truth be told,? she said, ?it?s ?her ladyship, the Countess Constance Trollope,? with whom you?re breaking bread this evening. But I?m not so finicky as once I was. Tonight ?Mrs. Trollope? will suit me just fine.?

For a moment Jack thought about extending his hand in friendship. But decided he?d just as soon forego that experience. ?I?m Jack Gallagher,? he said, holding firmly to his fork, ?and this is my wife, Clara.?

?Enchanted, children. And may I take this opportunity to formally bid you welcome to my home??

Jack gave her a polite nod; and Clara, attempting to leave out the sarcasm, voiced a semi-pleasant ?thank you.?

?I continue to be struck,? the old woman had turned to Jack, ?by what a charming young man you are. May I ask?from where do you children hail??

?New York,? Jack said. ?The city, to be exact.?

?My, my,? she said. ?My, my, my. Such serendipity doesn?t occur every day of the week.?

?Why?s that serendipitous?? Clara inquired.

?Because I?m in the midst of moving there; into a splendid apartment in lower mid-town. Which means that in a few short days the three of us will be as good as neighbors.?

?You?re right,? Jack said. ?Pretty serendipitous.?

Clara, not having been struck dead by the cautious few nibbles she?d taken, had set about devouring her food. She swallowed what she?d been chewing on, looked Mrs. Trollope square in the eye, and said, ?I just had a wonderful idea. Once you?re settled, why don?t I throw you a housewarming party? With all the friends we?ve got, you?ll practically be assured of never having to go through the loneliness of the newly transplanted New Yorker.?

?Thoughtful as well as lovely,? Mrs. Trollope said. ?I believe I mentioned something to that effect earlier, even before I?d heard her speak two words together, didn?t I, Jack??

?You?re too kind,? Clara said. ?Now what?s the address??and as soon as we get home I?ll get everything started. Oh gosh, I just can?t wait to show you around.?

?Number One Fifth Avenue is where you?ll find my penthouse suite. A place I hope you?ll make your own as much as I shall make it mine.?

?That?d put your apartment right where Fifth Avenue starts,? Jack said. ?I?ll bet you?ve got a great view of Washington Square Park.?

?You?d win that bet, for the sights from my living room window are stunning; and, I imagine, never more so than at this time of the year when the fall colors set my incurably romantic heart to racing. Gazing down upon yon Romeos and Juliets, whilst beneath the trees they speak of love, I?m reminded of a time?more years ago than you?ll get me to admit?when I and one suitor or another strolled arm in arm through verdured countrysides, whilst pastel shades of autumn leaves made carpets of themselves beneath our feet.?

?Why Mrs. Trollope,? Clara said. ?You have more than a bit of the poet in you, don?t you??

?My Henry?s sentiments as well. ?Constance, my dearest darling,? he used to say to me; ?Erato?s gifts were never so generous as on the day she placed them at your feet.??

?Erato??

?One of the nine muses, my love. From nigh on Mt. Olympus?s summit, she showered inspiration down upon all mankind, resulting in such wondrous bards as Keats, Shelley, Byron; and my favorite of them all, Elizabeth Barrett Browning.?

?She?s mine too,? Clara said, astonished that she should have had something so personal in common with the witch.

?Why am I not surprised? And what a picture I?ve just now conjured up?of Henry reciting her poetry for you; how utterly he?d have enjoyed it. You?d have liked him, Clara. And oh, how he?d have adored you. It was his greatest regret, you see, that we?d never had a daughter of our own.?

?My father?s got two daughters,? Clara said, smiling, for she?d forgotten she was just a player in a play. ?He?d have been glad to disabuse Henry of his regrets.?

?Child, how you speak. But I know you are joking, for how could a father of yours feel any other than boundless pride with such a daughter by his side??

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If you'll go to rembrandtpublishing.com, you'll find the start of what's been called one of the finest vampire novels since Dracula. You'll also find the location of the next chapter posted there.

Brought to you by Jim Humble's Miracle Mineral Solution. For without it I doubt I'd have stuck around long enough to tell the tale.