Page 24 of Fragile Wicked Things
India then focused her attention on Rochester, discussing matters I knew nothing about and people I didn't know. She showed no interest in what I had to say; her intention was only to point out my inappropriateness. For a while, I said nothing more to anyone.
The appetizer was a panko-crusted eggplant topped with crabmeat and smoked tomato hollandaise and although I had watched it prepared earlier in the kitchen, I didn't bother to consider how to eat it. I stared at the forks to the side of my plate. Deep in conversation, no one had picked up their forks yet either.
"Is there something wrong, Jane? You're not eating," India said.
Rochester turned to me and picked up the fork farthest on the outside without hesitation.
"Everything is fine," I said, picking up the appropriate fork.
The courses continued to be served, and the wine was poured by staff hired for the evening. Lis and Katya were offered the extra hours but both adamantly turned down the offer. Rochester spent most of the dinner in deep conversation with India; Mrs. Roth looked on and commented to Catherine about a 'desired' coupling. At one point, India spoke to her mother in what resembled perfect French, for she said it fluently and with all manner of pride. It seemed to me that one of her greatest achievements was taking pleasure in showing off.
Isabelle, on the other hand, appeared quiet with softer features, not an extrovert like her younger sister. She listened as her husband spoke with such earnestness about his college days and I wondered if she only pretended to enjoy his stories.
"...of course, some Wellesley girls were there also. Do you remember that Izzy girl?"
"I was there that night, but we hadn't met yet. I wasn't with your party."
"Oh, yes, that's right. That was the night I was set up on a blind date with that awful girl from your school."
"Eva something." Isabelle's eyebrows knotted as she tried to remember.
"More like Eva Nobody. Her father owned a hardware store somewhere in the Midwest, and a friend thought her a good match for me."
"He owned a few stores. They were successful," Isabelle said in a low voice.
I had seen this before, another Christmas long ago when I met Mrs. Brocklehurst.
"You went to Wellesley? What did you study?" I asked.
Isabelle looked at me and blushed, but she seemed happy that I should ask her. "Art mostly and English literature. Some law."
"It must have been an incredible experience to walk the grounds of a place full of great knowledge. What employment did that degree provide?" I said.
"Her most important job, taking care of me!" Lewellyn joked.
Too engrossed in the topic, I didn't pick up on the cue. "Well, what did you want to do? What did you want to become?"
Isabelle sat quietly for a moment, then she said, "I pictured myself working at a gallery in New York."
"I miss New York. Remember when we lived there, Edward?" Catherine said, and he nodded.
"Do you work for a gallery here in New Orleans?" I wanted to know so much that I never stopped with the questions. She shook her head. "You should try," I blurted. "With your education, I'm sure they'd hire you. We've only just met, but I'm a good judge of character, and I know you'd excel at it."
"And where did you study, Jane?" India asked me.
"Lowood," I said in a faint voice.
"I never heard of it. Where is the college exactly?"
"It's not a college. Lowood is a school...just a school."
"I assumed with your enthusiasm over my sister's education, that you'd be, well, more like one of us. Not educated? Yet Edward hired you," said India.
"Catherine hired her." Rochester corrected her, taking no credit for my employment.
"Public education? Oh, dear. At least you weren't subjected to what those poor children have been going through of late. Appalling. I can't condone the desegregation of the schools. Why, it could lead to interracial marriages," India said.
"I quite agree," Mrs. Roth said. "What is your view, Edward?"
