And then movement of the crowd as they bore the strange girl away.
Some went then. Shevlok. The bon Maukerdens. Gustave and his Obermum. Others stayed. Of those who stayed, it was the bon Damfels who stayed longest, who went over and over the story Eugenie had to tell. Sylvan, particularly, who asked again and again, “Did she say anything, Madame Le Fevre? Ever? Any word? Are you sure?” To which Eugenie could only shake her head no, and no, and no. Pet had never said anything at all.
It was only later that Marjorie realized why Sylvan had been so intent. Dimity bon Damfels had vanished in the hunt as Janetta bon Maukerden had vanished. If Janetta had emerged in this fashion, might not Dimity still be found alive, somewhere, somehow?
Though there were no physicians among the bons, there were doctors in Commons. None of the aristos had ever lowered themselves to study the professions, but no such pride had prevented various commoners from flying off to Semling for a few years, returning with extensive educations. There were also no architects or engineers of any kind among the bons, but most kinds of technical expertise could be found in Commons. So it was from Commons that Lees Bergrem came to examine Janetta bon Maukerden—Dr. Lees Bergrem, head of the hospital.
A maidservant saw it all, heard it all, told a brother who told someone else who told Roald Few.
And Roald told Marjorie. “Dr. Bergrem put a thing on her head, to measure what was going on in her brain. And there was nothing, no more than a chicken.”
“Will she be able to learn again?”
“Dr. Bergrem doesn’t know, Lady. It seems so, for Miss Eugenie had taught her to dance, you know? Taught her to hum a song, too. It seems she will be able to learn. Dr. Bergrem wanted to take her back to the hospital, but Geraldria bon Maukerden wouldn’t hear of it. Foolish, that woman. Dr. Bergrem studied on Semling, she did. And on Repentance, too. She’s written books about her discoveries here on Grass. There’s those who’ve been through here who say she knows more than many doctors, even those back on Terra.”
Marjorie, ever mindful of her duty to learn everything possible about Grass, ordered copies of Dr. Bergrem’s books to be facsimile transmitted from Semling Prime.
The tell-me hummed with the story. Janetta bon Maukerden, found alive. Of all those who had vanished over the years, she was the first to be found alive. First and only, and yet what hope this sparked among certain aristocratic parents and lovers and friends.
Rowena bon Damfels came to call, alone.
“You must not tell Stavenger I was here,” she said, whispering, her face swollen with fear and grief. “He and Gustave have spent hours on the tell-me, bellowing to one another. He forbade me to come.”
“I would have come to you,” Marjorie cried. “You had only to ask.”
“He would have seen you and driven you away. We are still in the lapse, and there is no Hunt. He would have seen you.”
But it was really Eugenie that Rowena wanted to see, Eugenie she wanted to question, because she could not go to Commoner Town without Stavenger finding out. Marjorie stayed with them, and it was she who suggested, “Rowena, I will ask the man and the woman to come here. The man and woman who had her, in Commons. I will ask them to come here, since you say they cannot come to your estancia, and you can come here to talk to them yourself.”
A fragile bond. A little trust. After Rowena left, Marjorie sighed, shook her head, sent for Persun Pollut.
“See if you can get the order officer and his wife to come out here tomorrow. The Jellicos. Tell them the Obermum wants to talk to them, privately. Secretly, Persun.”
He laid fingers on his lips, over his eyes, noting that he said nothing, saw nothing, and then departed. He returned to say yes, they would come tomorrow, and Marjorie sent an enigmatic message on the tell-me which only Rowena would understand. While he was there, she asked Persun to explain something to her.
“At the reception, Sylvan said we would all be throwing dead bats at one another, Persun. What did he mean?”
“The Hippae do it,” he said. “At least, so I hear. Sometimes on the hunt they do it. They kick dead bats at one another.”
“Dead bats?”
“They are everywhere lady. Many dead bats.”
It made no sense to Marjorie. She made a note in her book for later inquiry. There was no time now. “Rowena will talk to me,” Marjorie said to Rigo. “I think we may find this has opened a door.”
“Only while she’s in this state. When she grows calm, she’ll close us off again.”
“You don’t know that that’s true.”
“I believe it is,” he said stiffly. He had been stiff with Marjorie ever since the reception, since he had seen her dancing with Sylvan with that look on her face. She recognized his stiffness as barely withheld anger, but she believed his discomfort had been caused by Eugenie. Long ago she had chosen not to notice how matters went between Rigo and Eugenie, so she did not seem to notice now. Because she made no response to his evident annoyance, he believed she did not care, that she was probably thinking of someone else. So he grew more angry and she more silent; so they danced, a blindfolded minuet.
Something in his manner, however, declared a decision had been made.
“Rigo, you’re not—”
“Yes,” he said firmly. “I have hired a riding master.”
“Gustave was just being—”
“He was saying what all of them feel. That we are not worthy of their attention because we do not ride.”
“It isn’t riding,” she said with loathing. “Whatever it is they do, it isn’t riding. It’s loathesome.”
“Whatever it is they do,” he growled, “I will do it as well as they do!”
“You won’t expect me … or the children …”
“No,” he blurted, shocked. “Of course not!
