Pricilla – 7SeasonsAgo

The fog was wet and thick. It blanketed the university bringing with it – mystery. Things that were once familiar seemed now to have secrets. The world you thought you knew blurred into a world unexplored. Occasionally (as well as mystery) the fog also brought loneliness and solitude isolating you from the ones you love. And, sometimes, it just made you cold and wet and unwilling to venture outside.

Today the fog brought the latter two to Doctor Professor Daniel Charles Bartholomew Asclepius. He was cold and lonely. Specialization took you farther and farther from the mainstream where there were fewer and fewer people to relate to, he pondered. He set about building a fire while he waited for the arrival of his student Gentry. Cold he could solve.

Daniel was a leading professor in the study of Pneumatology. His focus was the spirit world and its interactions and influences (both direct and indirect) on the natural world. However, he was rattled this morning on the subject. He had been to dinner with a dear friend and colleague. They had met in the seminary and then parted professional paths, his friend going on to be a priest and him a scientist. They were catching each other up on their respective lives, when the evening took an unpleasant turn. As Daniel started to explain the details of what his studies were about, he couldn’t help noticing his friends face getting darker and darker.

“The study of Pneumatology, dear professor, is for the exclusive study of the Holy Spirit – not heathen superstitions,” He had said rising and throwing his napkin down. “I am afraid this dinner has left a bad taste in my mouth. I cannot thank you for the company”. And then he left the restaurant.

Daniel was shocked. He paid the bill and left. On his way out he was in time to see his friend preparing to get into a cab.

“Father Esposito, I did not mean to offend you.” Daniel said gently using full formality in honor of the grave situation they found themselves in. “Please accept my apology.”

“Apology accepted. However, I’m afraid our path ends here.” Father Esposito retreated into his cab and unceremoniously left.

The scene had repeated itself in Daniel’s head over and over all morning. He found himself pondering it again in front of the fire as it cast illumination. Had he found himself guilty of “cultural appropriation”? Was this the sole property of the Church? Did he have no right to interpretation and exploration? Was this study not his as well? Did he have no rights to it?

In Daniel’s mind these were ridiculous questions. Of course he had as much right as anyone else to personalize these ideas. He had advanced and influenced the science tremendously. He had taken dusty ideas and breathed new life into them. What did not evolve died.

As equally offended as he found himself, he also knew it was important feedback. Father Esposito was not the only one to feel this way he was sure. He had given an honest and emotionally charged response. Daniel needed to respect that and incorporate it. It shook him because he had never considered this prejudice and he was not sure how to proceed forward or what damage he had exposed his work to. This argument would need to be thoroughly considered. He had important work to do and he did not need the Church to develop undo interest or stand in his way claiming a copy write they did not own.

There was a knock on the door. Gentry had arrived. Daniel gratefully put these thoughts away. He had a brilliant and distressed student to address. This was a real concern with immediate implications.

He had discovered Gentry in a “trap” he often used to discover talent. His was not the sort of curriculum that could welcome just any student. For his use they needed to be gifted. As such the Professor “employed” a nasty spirit that resided near the bell tower on campus. The bell tower was fortunately on a frequently used path connecting many classes. It also had a lovely little park with a bench just across from it. Daniel would sit across and watch the many students of the university pass the bell tower on their way to class.

He was enjoying a cup of tea while sitting on the bench and reading a paper, when a young man walking past with his friends suddenly became very visibly upset and started looking around declaring to his friends “what the hell is that?” And that’s how Daniel discovered Gentry.

His friends of course had felt nothing and supposed a bee sting or some other physical ailment. Before the conversation could get too informative, Professor Asclepius interjected himself reassuring Gentry’s friends that he was a doctor and that they should continue to class without their freind.

“Come sit next to me young man,” invited Daniel taking a seat on the bench and patting the place next to him. “So, you wanted to know “what the hell was that” I believe.” “It is a malevolent spirit” said Daniel casually “But, I suspect you are not surprised by that. I suppose what surprised you are the strength of emotions it imparted to you. Tell me, what did you feel?”

Gentry looked at him with skepticism and relief. There was a pause like he was waiting for permission from himself and then he spoke “I felt horror… Not terror, not grief, not sadness, but absolute horror”.

“Yes, that’s consistent with what people with your gifts feel. I’m Professor Asclepius,” he said offering his had to shake.

“Asclepius? Any relation?” asked Gentry jokingly. “I’m Gentry,” he said taking the professors hand sheepishly. “How funny I never thought of it as a Gift”

How that gift had manifested, thought Daniel remembering that first meeting as he showed Gentry into his study and seated him next to the warm fire. Gentry’s mother had threatened to pull him from the school and the program and had ordered his return home which was why he was here. Daniel provided him some nutrition, they discussed some pleasantries, and then Daniel got right to the point.

“I wish to accompany you and speak with your mother directly. I hate to impose, but the Duchess would never grant me an audience so I mean to ambush her. While this department may be obscure, it is not underfunded. I will offer you a full scholarship, a small stipend, and travel expenses.”

“I’m sorry professor, but I don’t think you understand. My mother means for me to take over the family business. My education is no longer important to her.”

“No, my dear Gentry, I understand completely. I mean to make a business proposition with her of my own – one I feel will be mutually beneficial. Will you agree to let me treat with her?”

And so it was decided. Daniel would accompany Gentry to see his mother.

“Thank you Professor. I’m so relieved. I feared this was the end.” Gentry confessed as Daniel showed him to the door.

“That’s normal for your age,” reassured Daniel repeating a tag line he often used with patients. He patted Gentry’s shoulder, “to expect the end when it’s only the beginning in disguise. Remember that I am old and wise. Trust in that”.

The request for money had left her seething. She had been so mad that she had actually called the school herself for more information. To her horror she had discovered that not only was the school asking for more money for expenses for a “special outside the curriculum opportunity” but that her only son, Gentry, was majoring in a field with no career prospects. Pneumatology, who had ever heard of such a study? She had sent him to school to increase his (and her) prospects in life, not waste away as an academic. To find out that he was foolishly throwing away his money on an education with no practical application was the absolute edge.

The Duchess Pricilla of Aggrandizeland had long since come to the end of her fortune. Upon her husband’s death, their only son and heir had inherited his father’s title and a small income that came with it. It had been enough to pay for his education and provide her with a small allowance which provided a modest flat, a maid, a chauffeur, and a cook. The Duke had died defending their remaining plantation in a bloody revolution overseas. It had been the last financial prospect of the estate. The duchy had been sold and absorbed by the city hundreds of years ago. Today it had been reduced to the block they lived on which provided rents they received distributed from a corporation they heard from once a year – a corporation that also managed intangible investments. While the income was stable, it grew by incremental percentages.

It had taken her years to learn to budget. It was not in her nature. The first year she had almost ruined them. She had been living her “life extravagant” as usual when she chanced upon her dear friend, Candace, while at a lecture they were both attending.

Candace was a self-made woman who managed and owned several clever investments and enterprises. They had very quickly become fast friends after an incident involving a flower girl at a wedding they had both attended. Candace had heard Pricilla tell the girl after whispering in her ear (when the child had asked if she had ever been a flower girl) “That’s everything I know”. For some reason this solemn and sage delivery had amused Candace causing her to shoot red wine out of her nose all over her dress. Pricilla had come to her rescue with the loan of a long wrap.

They had run in similar circles for years, but the incident had bonded them. It had been soon after on a night out at the opera that Candace had revealed the source of her capital. She disclosed it over a nightcap as they caught up and discussed the highs and lows of the opera. This opera (like so many) centered around the tragedy of a young woman who had been routinely beaten, raped, and then eventually murdered by her lover after he had impregnated and abandoned her to a career in prostitution. After one to many, Candace had boldly revealed that she too had engaged in a career as a prostitute to wealthy gentlemen while overseas – luckily more profitable and less tragic. Properly invested it had become the source of her independence. Pricilla had been delighted. What a scandal! “of course I was known as Candy then”, she had remarked which had sent Pricilla into peals of laughter. The memories of friendship were bountiful and pleasant.

Pricilla had been lost in reminiscences embrace when Candace had leaned in and whispered before the speaker could start “I’m so pleased to see your husband left you so well cared for.” She pressed her hand quickly before turning their attention to exposing themselves to the great thoughts their clever lecturer would impart.

But it was Candace’s remark that had set Pricilla to thinking and not the speaker she had paid to hear at all. How cared for was she exactly? After a few days of careful looking, she had found her late husband’s office. He had kept it at the flat she would eventually reside in. She supposed it was because it was technically the heart of the original duchy – the last 13 acres to be exact and the land with which the titled depended. Without this parcel of land (too close to downtown to be fashionable) they had no peerage and were just wealthy landowners. She spied a stack of bank paper on his desk, called for a cup of tea and settled in to explore her limits. What she found was her time was nearly up. The bank account showed a mere thousand. That can’t be right she thought. Why she knew she had spent three times that just finding the office in the past few days. Apparently none of the transactions had cleared yet. Then it hit her. When they did arrive the account would be overdrawn – the first time in six-hundred years.

Pricilla had no idea what to do. In desperation she called on her friend whose comment had started her down this path. After exchanging a few pleasantries Pricilla came to the point.

“I don’t suppose you would be in the market to provide a loan would you?” she had asked with harried exasperation turning (she was sure) quite red.

“My dear Pricilla, how much?” Candace asked with shock and concern.

“Ten thousand perhaps?…”

“My darling, is this a joke?” she asked unable to keep the incredulousness from her voice. She began to suspect a prank. What a ridiculously small amount.

“The account is in danger of overdrawing for the first time in six hundred years. I don’t even know what will happen if it does. I dread finding out. We aren’t due for an installment until the end of the month. I’m so humiliated…” she announced with panicked laughter wiping tears from her eyes.

Candace looked at her with genuine relief and suppressed a smile. “Oh, you silly girl. I will write you a check for ten thousand. In exchange, you must let me help you sort yourself out”, she said reaching for Pricilla’s hand to hold it.

Pricilla was relieved to find that they were still rich but with no new income – a situation that left unchecked would drain the estate dry within her lifetime. With Candace’s help, she sold all the properties with the exception of the duchy (a mere thirteen acre city block), released all but three of the servants, and helped her bundle the cash they had generated into a rainy day fund. They also dismissed her accountant who it turns out would have profited a great deal had Pricilla gone under, and Candace showed her the joys of a stable budget and a well-run house as well as how to save a small portion every month for future extravagances.

While Pricilla would no longer be the great lady she once was, she would not be destitute. “Perhaps I could get a job”, she remarked upon learning of her meager allowance. “Don’t be silly”, shushed Candace “you don’t know how to work”.

And so when Gentry came of age, he went to the prestigious schools their title and his allowance still accommodated. With him she sent her hope that he had inherited his father’s gift for making money and that an education would expose him to opportunity. She, who had once toasted the continent, settled into obscurity and modest comfort.

Knowledge of his academic achievements had dashed her hopes and she knew it was up to her to increase their prospects and impart what knowledge of business his father had left her to Gentry directly. The school had informed her of his location and so she had sent a letter to Japan.

In its contents were a simple directive – Gentry was to come home immediately and assume his role as Duke of Aggrandizeland. Candace was going to help them convert the remaining 13 acres to a skyscraper and this would require a great many signatures from the Duke.

Category: Pricilla

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