The Bluestockings: Chapter Six
In which Eleanor finally meets the infamous Ruby Hurst and they bond over Little Women.
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Catch Up On Previous Chapters: Prologue | 1 | 2 | 3 | 4 | 5
Ruby
“I can’t wait for Eleanor to get here,” Maggie groaned from the door to the parlor. Ruby was seated on a tufted Louis XV sofa that had seen better years, knitting a burnt orange scarf. The pain in her joints was growing, a sure sign that the wintry weather off the coast was about to sour, but she ignored it and continued working.
“I’m so bored.”
Ruby placed the scarf in her lap and looked up at Maggie. Dressed once more in a sweater that appeared to want to swallow her whole, her niece looked the part of a prepubescent boy as she slumped against the door frame and frowned. It might have endeared her to Ruby had she not also spent the majority of the afternoon scrolling ten-second videos on her phone until Ruby felt certain to form a tick from the repetitive assault on her senses.
“Boredom is good for children,” Ruby replied in a dry tone. “It helps you stretch your imagination.”
Maggie shot her aunt an exasperated look. Ruby set her knitting aside and rubbed her tender joints. “She’ll be here soon enough, Margaret. Now wipe that expression off your face.”
Her niece sighed wearily. “I already told you a thousand times, it’s Maggie, and don’t you ever get tired of being in this house, Aunt Ruby?” she asked. “There’s, like, a whole big world out there, you know.”
“Yes, I’m aware.”
“Did you know about the bakery’s pain au chocolats?” Maggie asked, pronouncing the first word like a pain one would get in the elbow. “Because you need to get out and try those if you don’t.”
“I think you mean ‘pahn,’” corrected Ruby. “Yes, I do. I’ve had them several times. Marianne picks up pastries once in a while when she goes into town.”
“I want to get them from France,” Maggie said with a swoon, falling onto the mauve Queen Anne wingback chair. “And eat them under the Eiffel Tower.”
Ruby couldn’t help the corners of her mouth from turning up. “They are quite delicious.”
Maggie shot up in the chair. “You’ve been to France?” she asked, eyes wide.
“When I was young,” Ruby replied. “My father traveled here and there on business. Sometimes, I was able to go with him.”
“What was it like?” Maggie asked. “Did you wear a beret and speak French and drink lots of espresso?”
Ruby picked up her knitting again and looked away from the dreamy expression on her niece’s face. “On the contrary,” she replied, needles working the yarn, “I only knew a few phrases in French, and I’ve never much cared for espresso. But I did wear a black beret once. It had a lovely red bow on the back, and I felt like a movie star when I put it on.”
Maggie sighed again. “I wonder if Eleanor has ever been out of the country,” she mused. Ruby looked up sharply at Maggie, who had fallen back against the chair and was tracing circles on the arm, lost in her own world. The room fell silent, except for the click of Ruby’s needles. After a few minutes of quiet, she cleared her throat.
“How much do you know about Eleanor?” Ruby asked, careful to keep her voice neutral.
Maggie shrugged. “Just that she’s cool, and her dad owns a bookstore.”
“What else?”
“Oh, she also told me that she loves the Harry Potter books but has never seen the movies,” Maggie amended. “Which, how.”
Ruby swallowed hard. Eleanor Black had a story not unlike her own, and if the girl had shared it with Maggie, then surely her loquacious niece would have said so by now.
When Vera Black disappeared, Marianne had kept Ruby filled in on the latest updates for weeks, much to Ruby’s chagrin. The story was in The Savannah Daily News, and Ruby could recall with startling clarity how it felt to read the headline one Sunday morning at breakfast. It brought her back to that day on the beach with her mother, another lifetime ago. Ruby remembered how confused and frightened she had felt as she stood there in the surf, tears falling down her cheeks. Her mother couldn’t be gone. She was just there, holding Ruby’s hand, reading a book. Telling Ruby how much she loved her. How does a person who’s so adored, who takes up so much space in the world, suddenly just cease to exist?
Reading the report about Vera Black’s disappearance conjured up the same questions for Ruby more than seventy years later. What would Eleanor’s life be like now without a mother to love her in the way only a mother can? Ruby had felt a sudden pang of gratitude for her stepmother, who had been endlessly patient about her new daughter’s repeated micro-rejections of her. At least Ruby’d had such a woman in her life, however little she’d shown her appreciation. Eleanor didn’t even have that option.
Ruby decided to leave well enough alone. If Eleanor wanted to confide in Maggie, she would make that choice in her own time.
The sound of tires on gravel launched Maggie from the chair. “They’re here!” she squealed and tore across the room.
Ruby’s stomach did a cartwheel as she set aside her knitting and rose from the sofa to greet their guests. She had hoped to be stowed away in her bedroom for this part of the evening, but she would never make it up the stairs in time. It was just as well. Ruby would have to meet the girl at some point. Better to do it now and be done with it.
Maggie threw open the door. “Hiii!” she sang. Into the warm light of the foyer stepped a tall, gangly girl, chestnut curls long and frizzy down her back. She wore a cautious smile as she peered around and visibly started when she caught sight of Ruby in the parlor, staring at her. Just behind Eleanor, his dark hair sprinkled with gray, entered a man who could only be her father. He smiled at Maggie, who grabbed Eleanor’s hands in her own and started talking a mile a minute.
Ruby’s throat had gone as dry as a bone.
“We’re going to have so much fun,” Maggie said to Eleanor, who looked a little dumbstruck at Maggie’s enthusiasm. “We can watch movies and eat all the junk food Marianne bought for me yesterday, and—“
Ruby cleared her throat. Everyone turned to stare as she took a few tentative steps towards the foyer. Her hands shook, but she clasped them together to disguise it. “Hello, Eleanor,” she said with an abrupt nod. Eleanor’s face broke into a wide, relieved grin, and the sight of it was as if someone had turned on the sun.
“Hi, Ms. Hurst,” she said in a bubbly tone. “Thank you so much for having me over! Your house is gorgeous. I’ve always wanted to see what it looks like from the inside, and—ohmigod!” Eleanor broke off as she peered to the left and noticed the library for the first time. Maggie crossed her arms and put on a faux expression of hurt.
“Great,” she said with a pout. “Now she’s seen the library, and there’ll be no getting her back after this.”
Eleanor jerked back to face Ruby with her mouth hanging open so much that Ruby could see a silver filling on her molar. “That is the most amazing library I’ve ever seen in my whole life,” she said with such wonder in her voice that Ruby smiled before she could think better of it.
“I’m glad it meets with your approval.”
Eleanor’s dad put both of his hands on his daughter’s shoulders. “Make sure you ask permission before you touch anything,” he said with a grin at Ruby. “If she goes in there at all, you’re going to have a hell of a time getting her out.”
Ruby offered James a curt nod. “Noted,” she said, unable to offer anything more than that. Her jaw clenched with anxiety as she stood stock still, wishing Marianne would come and rescue her before she passed out cold on the floor.
“Thank you for having Eleanor over,” James continued, his eyes kind. Then he pressed a kiss onto his daughter’s head and turned to go. “Have fun! I’ll be back sometime around lunch tomorrow to pick you up.” To Ruby, he added, “Please call if you need anything. Eleanor has my cell number.”
Ruby made no effort to reply. James’ smile faltered for a moment, and then he tipped an imaginary hat and closed the door behind him. Maggie pulled Eleanor towards the stairs, and the two of them raced away, the sound of giggles trailing after them as they went. Ruby let go of the breath she didn’t realize she’d been holding and steadied herself on the wingback chair.
Five minutes down. Less than twenty-four hours to go.
~~~
Marianne made a veggie pizza for the girls’ dinner, but Ruby wasn’t hungry. She retired to the library with a cup of decaf coffee and sat on the sofa adjacent to the fireplace. It crackled with warmth and soothed Ruby’s raw nerves. She had long since lost her ability to interact comfortably with new people. That skill had gone the way of her pageant crowns and sashes stuffed into old trunks in the attic. Most of the time, she didn’t miss it.
As she watched the flames flicker and spit, Ruby admitted to her- self that the discomfort she felt was about more than having another virtual stranger in the house. It was because Eleanor Black was the only person she’d ever met with a story like her own, and Ruby didn’t like what her presence conjured in the safe, protected bubble she had lived in for so long. Ruby felt haunted. Watched. The hair on the back of her neck prickled.
She glanced about the room then and let out a yelp. Her coffee sloshed into her lap, scalding Ruby’s thighs. Eleanor and Maggie were standing at the library's threshold, staring, their faces filled with nervous hope.
“Sorry!” Eleanor cried as Ruby wiped at her pants and ran over to take the coffee cup from the woman’s hands. She placed it on a coaster and gave Ruby a once-over. “Did it burn you?”
Ruby wiped her damp palms onto her even damper trousers. “Just a bit. I’m quite alright.”
Marianne heard their shrieks and came running. “Girls, you should be upstairs,” she chided as she strode into the library. “Not down here bothering Ms. Ruby.”
Maggie crossed her arms. “We weren’t bothering her, Marianne. We just wanted to ask a question.”
Eleanor nodded in agreement. “That’s right, but we need a towel now, too, since we scared Ms. Ruby half to death, and she spilled her coffee all over her lap.”
Ruby met Marianne’s exasperated gaze with one of her own. “I’m fine. Just get me a towel and ask your question,” she replied, unable to hide her irritation.
Eleanor chewed her bottom lip and looked to Maggie, who pulled back her shoulders and turned to Ruby with a determined set of her chin. Ruby’s palms grew damp again, but this time, it wasn’t the coffee. She glanced at Eleanor, who looked less than confident, and inwardly groaned. Not this, Ruby thought, beginning to stand. Anything but this...
“Girls, I’m not—”
“We wanted to know if we could look at your books,” Eleanor blurted, clasping her hands under her chin like a prayer.
Ruby plopped back down, biting her tongue against the retort she’d been prepared to throw at them. Relieved, she answered, “You could.” She cocked an eyebrow in their direction, waiting.
Maggie rolled her eyes. “Oh em gee, Aunt Ruby. May we look at your books, please?”
Marianne returned with a towel and offered her arm to Ruby. “Yes, you may,” Ruby replied, taking Marianne’s elbow to stand. “Just be careful. Many of them are old and rare, and I would be quite upset if they were damaged.”
Eleanor’s eyes grew wide in earnest. “We would never do that, Ms. Ruby. Never. I’d rather die.”
Ruby glanced at her niece’s friend and scoffed. “That won’t be necessary, but I appreciate your enthusiasm.”
After a quick change of clothes, Ruby returned to the library to find the girls seated on the forest green carpet. A pile of books sat nestled between them, and each girl held a thick volume in hand. It was the first time Ruby had seen them quiet. They were lost, as Ruby had been lost so many times in her life, in the pages of their books. Her books.
Ruby watched them for a moment, unseen, and could not account for the tears that sprang to her eyes. Surprised, she swiped at them furiously, betrayed by their presence on her cheeks. Eleanor noticed the movement and darted to her feet. Her expression was open and happy, a wildflower unfurled in the summer sun.
“Ms. Ruby, have you read all of these books?” she asked.
Ruby chuckled, a sound that made Maggie’s eyes widen in surprise. “Not even close. There are thousands of volumes in this room.”
Eleanor gaped. “But I read one-hundred and twenty-seven books last year, and I’m only twelve. You’re way older than me!” Then, as if remembering her audience, Eleanor squeaked and clamped her lips together.
“Indeed,” Ruby replied. “I’ve had much more time than you, but I haven’t always spent it as wisely as you apparently have.” Maggie elbowed Eleanor in the side as she preened under Ruby’s praise.
Ruby clasped her hands together and gazed around the room. Each wall was covered by built-in bookshelves brimming with literature from the last century and a half, much of which her great-grandfather had brought with him from Germany, plus a couple thousand other books that her father had purchased over his lifetime. The luscious carpet, oak-paneled fireplace, and quaint, mullioned windows, which cast a rainbow of colors across the room when the sun shone through the glass, added to its charm. What a pleasure it was for Ruby to see the library appreciated as the small marvel it was. She had quite forgotten what it looked like through the eyes of other people.
Eleanor took quiet, careful steps around the room, head titled upwards in reverence as if she were in a church. Maggie cast a thankful smile to Ruby. Perhaps she could allow this space to be enjoyed by others, too. Just this once.
“I’ve always loved vintage books,” Eleanor said. She stopped in front of a shelf loaded with German romantics—Goethe, Mereau, Schlegel—and gently fingered the spines. “Goethe,” she said, the word awkward and halting on her lips. Ruby tilted her head, eyebrows drawn upward.
“I’ve never heard anyone around here pronounce ‘Goethe’ correctly. Except my father, of course.”
Splotches of pink appeared on Eleanor’s cheeks. “Jo says it to Professor Baer in Little Women. I tried to read one of his books in our store the day after I watched it, but Dad had to help me find it first because I didn’t know the spelling.”
“And what did you think of the great German poet?” Ruby inquired, genuinely curious.
Eleanor wrinkled her nose. “I didn’t get past the first page.”
“That’s to be expected, I suppose,” Ruby replied. “But I hope you’ve actually read Little Women. Please tell me you’re not relying on film to tell the whole story.”
Maggie stood up and crossed her arms. “Aunt Ruby, have you even seen Little Women?”
Ruby matched Maggie’s petulant expression. “Which one?”
Maggie frowned. “Greta Gerwig’s, obviously. The only one that matters.”
“Oh, I love that version,” Eleanor sighed. “Florence Pugh is the moment.”
“I only understood half of what you just said,” Ruby answered, looking back and forth between the girls. “But it doesn’t matter be- cause the novel is infinitely more stunning, I don’t care what Greta’s ger-wig does.”
Eleanor and Ruby collapsed into a fit of giggles. Ruby stood there, nonplussed. “Aunt Ruby,” Maggie wheezed, clutching Eleanor’s arm. “Greta doesn’t have a ‘ger-wig,' whatever that is. Her name is Greta Gerwig. She’s the director of the movie.”
Ruby swallowed down her embarrassment. She wasn’t used to getting things wrong. “Oh,” she said.
With an apologetic smile, Eleanor gathered herself. “Yes, I have read the book. And you’re right. Nothing compares, not even—“
“—Greta’s ‘ger-wig,’” Maggie finished, choking out her words around a half-escaped howl. “Gosh, Aunt Ruby. That was good.”
Ruby ignored her. “So it’s a favorite of yours?” she asked Eleanor.
“Little Women?” Eleanor replied with an incredulous glance. “It’s the best. What girl doesn’t want to be Jo March?”
Maggie raised her hand. “I’ve never read it,” she confessed with a grimace.
Eleanor gave a mock gasp and poked Maggie in the ribs. “You’ve never read Little Women? And you call yourself a bibliophile. I don’t know if we can be friends now. We have three copies at our house alone!”
“Well, it’s a good thing we’re not in your house, then, isn’t it?” Maggie poked back.
“Oh, I don’t know if we can be friends now, either,” Ruby added, a note of humor in her voice. Maggie and Eleanor turned to her in uni- son, shock written on both their faces.
“Aunt Ruby,” Maggie said, “did you just make a joke? I had no idea that was possible.”
Ruby snorted and sat back down with her book. “Your teenage years will be an absolute delight for your mother.” Then she opened the cover to block the girls from view.
From behind, Maggie whispered to Eleanor, “That’s more like it.”
