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An Injurious Fall or, When Humor Strikes
By Anna Psitos
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“And so, Mrs. Musgrove, I’m sorry to say
that Louisa is unconscious, most likely at death’s door.”
“Oh, my precious girl!! Father, what are we to do?! Oh, I feel faint!!” The
shrieking woman fanned herself rapidly, causing the candles to gutter. As
she staggered, Anne Eliot lunged to save the sideboard, glaring at her erstwhile
lover.
“Couldn’t you have phrased that better?” she hissed.
“Alas, my unacknowledged love, it was not possible.” Mrs. Musgrove’s
volume increased. “If I had not been so slow, she would be here with us
today.” Upon Mr. Musgrove’s murderous glare (his wife had begun
thrashing about) Capt. Wentworth said, “Nay, good sir, you cannot convince me. Louisa’s
accident is my fault and I must stand here and brood over my ill luck.”
“Oh for heaven’s sake! This isn’t Wuthering Heights! There is nothing
in this book about brooding!” Anne’s exasperation was reaching new
heights. To think that she had once thought him a capable man!
“Indeed my heart’s desire that I must ignore? I can only reflect on
how, if she survives I am honor-bound to one I do not love.”
“If?! Honor-bound?! Oh, Father, my heart is turning somersaults!” Mrs.
Musgrove wailed.
“Listen, Captain. Perhaps you can go elsewhere and brood? There is
no way I can calm my wife down if you keep referring to this tragedy.”
Mrs. Musgrove’s wailing reached a keening pitch, causing the hounds to howl in
pain. As the hair-tearing and teeth-gnashing began, but before the rending
of garments, Mr. Musgrove poured a pitcher of water over his wife’s head. “Anne,”
he said, “I know I’m supposed to go to Bath, but do you think you might go
instead? If this keeps up you won’t be able to help, but if I succeed in
sedating her, I’d hate to miss the best part of hunting season.”
“But... I’m supposed to stay here and gaze mournfully out the window from
the piano bench thinking of the joy I lost when that slag looked at Frederick
cross-eyed!”
Capt. Wentworth sighed. “Louisa is so beautiful when she makes odd faces. Have
you seen her monkey face?” He glanced around at the bemused expressions. “I
mean, I cannot possibly return with Anne once again so close to me. I might
be forced to act upon my suppressed love and do something roguish!”
With alacrity Anne ran outside and jumped into the waiting carriage. “In
that case, what are we waiting for?”
“Oh, temptress of my soul, you are too much for me!” He dashed out the
door to remove her from the carriage. The melodrama was cut short by the
front door slamming.
Mr. Musgrove shook his head and turned to his wife. “Kids these days. When
I was young we didn’t talk half as much, did we, Mother?” His wife at
this point had fainted from the turmoil and was unable to respond to his
waggling eyebrows.
The next day in Lyme...
“Oh woe! How am I am ever apologize for my inconstancy towards my beloved
Anne?”
“Ah, so you do love her?” The sage Captain Harville nodded. “I
thought as much. We seamen may walk with a rolling gait and drink too much
when on land, but love? Love is as clear as a French privateer off the
larboard.”
“But my previous attentions to Louisa have made me hers, if she so desires. And
Anne still does not know I have realized what a fool I have been!”
“Not if what I heard her tell Mary is true. To be honest, I’m rather
jealous: Mary would never agree to half those things. You have picked up
the most unique tricks in your travels, Frederick. And where did you get
the tennis balls?” Charles Musgrove looked puzzled.
“I first learned of that trick when we were in the West Indies and the lady in
question used coconuts. But as there were no coconuts on hand and someone
had left tennis balls in the bench...”
“You got her to do the coconut trick?!” exclaimed Capt. Harville. “You
truly do have an exceptional woman, Frederick.”
Frederick ran a hand through his dark, tousled hair. “You don’t know
the half of it. Listen to this.” The men leaned in for a good gossip
session when Anne herself ran in. “She’s awake! She’s alive!”
and ran out again.
“Now, gentlemen,” said Frederick with a sigh, “my fate is sealed. I
must give up the amazing and talented Anne for the mediocre Louisa. Is
there no one who can save me and straighten out the plot?”
Trumpets blared. “Here I come to save the day!” Capt. Benwick
leapt into the doorway, hands on hips and chest puffed out. “I shall read
to her gloomy poetry in my soothing voice and she will soon be mine! For
though I loved another, whose name I have forgotten, I shall replace her with
Louisa of the pliable brain. Make quick your escape while my convenient
plot device distracts the others!”
Frederick jumped up, eyes wild with lust and freedom. He dashed past his
savior in search of his one true love. “Anne!” he cried. “I
love you! You pierce my soul! Tell me I am not too late, etc., etc. I
was a fool, have loved none but you! She was a mere toy, a distraction from
the burning passion I feel for you. I realize now that nothing can conquer
my feelings. Can you forgive me?”
“Yes!”
“Will you marry me?”
“Do you have more tennis balls?”
FIN
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When not entertaining the elderly with her
bellydancing, Anna dreams of one day touring the world with a musical group,
possibly as a roadie. If this fails, she will join the circus and train the
elephants.
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