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edenfallingThis is another snippet of my alternate American novel, "The Summoner's Tale." Here, Catherine gives Colin the tour of her house that Mrs. West refered to in Quiet, Before.
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Legacies
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Cousin Catherine's house -- which was named Sans Souci after the Prussian King's summer palace, but generally called Rose Manor after her mother's gardens -- was a fairly modest affair for a country manor, built mostly out of brick and stone. The bricks, Catherine told Colin during his tour, had been imported from France in the days before the Prieur family had married the Whitcombes and formally brought St. Paul into American possession. This house was the oldest remaining structure in St. Paul, all the other early houses having been made of wood and long since decayed or rebuilt.
Despite the manor's long history, it was simply furnished in these days. All the riches had been bartered or sold to support the family's crumbling finances, or Catherine's alchemical research. "Once we were rich from the fur trade," said Catherine, "and then we were rich from river fees, but now we have little left but the farms and a share in the steamboat works my father was building before he died. Still, we get by, and the house remains in the family."
Rose Manor's grounds, still extensive, spread down to the Mississippi shore in front of the house, and east to the woods in the back. The north was reserved for outbuildings and pasture, while the south held kitchen gardens and the beginning of Mrs. Roxburgh's rose gardens. Those flowers wrapped around the house into the small courtyard garden on the east wall, where they spun in careful geometric patterns around a sundial.
"That," Catherine said, pointing at the foot of the sundial, "is where my mother died. She froze to death with a rose petal in her hand."
She snapped her mouth shut and walked quickly around the southeast corner of the house, leaving Colin to hurry after her.
The two rose gardens were separated by a small rise and a wrought iron fence, which broke into a decorative gate for the walkway that circled the manor. Two tall windows shone in the midday sun just past the house corner.
"This," Catherine said, "is the chapel garden. Those two windows -- the stained glass edging was imported from Paris before the Revolution -- are on either side of the altar. My mother designed this facet of her gardens to reflect the glory of God in nature, the way the glass shows the glory of God in men's works."
Colin looked around, interested. A small statue of the Pieta stood on the east side of this enclosed garden, and a Nativity stood opposite against the western fence. Both statues were nestled under low arbors of climbing roses. The centerpiece, however, was not a statue. Instead, Mrs. Roxburgh had coaxed roses, through time, care, and a bit of magic, into forming a bleeding cross crowned with gold.
"It's beautiful," he said.
Catherine nodded. "Yes. Mother was always good with roses."
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Inspired by the 5/23/04![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-community.gif)
15minuteficlets picture #13
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And that's that.
Back in my real life, I was at Pat's for two and a half hours, and while it's good to see her again, she isn't doing as well these days. She's just more scattered than before, and it takes her longer to do things than it used to. Consequently, she gets annoyed a bit more often. *shrug* I'm sure I would too, if I were in her place.
---------------------------------------------
Legacies
---------------------------------------------
Cousin Catherine's house -- which was named Sans Souci after the Prussian King's summer palace, but generally called Rose Manor after her mother's gardens -- was a fairly modest affair for a country manor, built mostly out of brick and stone. The bricks, Catherine told Colin during his tour, had been imported from France in the days before the Prieur family had married the Whitcombes and formally brought St. Paul into American possession. This house was the oldest remaining structure in St. Paul, all the other early houses having been made of wood and long since decayed or rebuilt.
Despite the manor's long history, it was simply furnished in these days. All the riches had been bartered or sold to support the family's crumbling finances, or Catherine's alchemical research. "Once we were rich from the fur trade," said Catherine, "and then we were rich from river fees, but now we have little left but the farms and a share in the steamboat works my father was building before he died. Still, we get by, and the house remains in the family."
Rose Manor's grounds, still extensive, spread down to the Mississippi shore in front of the house, and east to the woods in the back. The north was reserved for outbuildings and pasture, while the south held kitchen gardens and the beginning of Mrs. Roxburgh's rose gardens. Those flowers wrapped around the house into the small courtyard garden on the east wall, where they spun in careful geometric patterns around a sundial.
"That," Catherine said, pointing at the foot of the sundial, "is where my mother died. She froze to death with a rose petal in her hand."
She snapped her mouth shut and walked quickly around the southeast corner of the house, leaving Colin to hurry after her.
The two rose gardens were separated by a small rise and a wrought iron fence, which broke into a decorative gate for the walkway that circled the manor. Two tall windows shone in the midday sun just past the house corner.
"This," Catherine said, "is the chapel garden. Those two windows -- the stained glass edging was imported from Paris before the Revolution -- are on either side of the altar. My mother designed this facet of her gardens to reflect the glory of God in nature, the way the glass shows the glory of God in men's works."
Colin looked around, interested. A small statue of the Pieta stood on the east side of this enclosed garden, and a Nativity stood opposite against the western fence. Both statues were nestled under low arbors of climbing roses. The centerpiece, however, was not a statue. Instead, Mrs. Roxburgh had coaxed roses, through time, care, and a bit of magic, into forming a bleeding cross crowned with gold.
"It's beautiful," he said.
Catherine nodded. "Yes. Mother was always good with roses."
---------------------------------------------
Inspired by the 5/23/04
15minuteficlets picture #13---------------------------------------------
And that's that.
Back in my real life, I was at Pat's for two and a half hours, and while it's good to see her again, she isn't doing as well these days. She's just more scattered than before, and it takes her longer to do things than it used to. Consequently, she gets annoyed a bit more often. *shrug* I'm sure I would too, if I were in her place.
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(no subject)
Date: 2004-06-04 02:58 pm (UTC)(no subject)
Date: 2004-06-04 03:59 pm (UTC)