11:15am || Library, Eastwell Hall || 6 January 1800
“…a far more majestic creature than most think, for is it not the simple things that enrich our lives? And it is exactly the grouse’s simplicity— of behavior, aesthetic sensibilities and mind — that plays an ab-so-lutely critical role in that vibrant order we call Galliformes. Now, there is far more to cover than our meager allotment of time will allow for, but we will endeavor, my covey of friends— that is some Tetraonini humor for you — to traverse the underbrush together and uncover the true spirit of the country grouse in winter. Now, let us begin….”
“Oh yes, please,” Frances muttered sardonically, adding shading to the sketch in her lap with a vicious scribble of her pencil. The taxidermy grouse set at the front of the room was serving as a useful model, if not as their lecturer intended. There was something off about the left eyebrow in her drawing. Frances squinted at it, a rather exaggerated caricature of the head and face of the lecturer, combined with the rotund body and twiggy legs of the grouse. She was no great artist, but the likeness was there. Sundays spent at church may not have done much to hone her religious spirit but they had been ever-so helpful in improving her creative eye.
Maybe it wasn’t the eyebrow but the proportion of the nose. Another bit of shading here and there until– snap, the overly sharpened tip of her pencil broke.
Well that was her plan to pass the time shot.
Frances looked up from her lap to the speaker. There was some enthusiastic gesticulating underway that was entertaining at face value but did little to capture her interest when the words accompanying the gesture were considered. This wouldn’t do at all.
Frances turned to the occupied chair to her right, affixing a smile in place. “Pardon the intrusion, but do you happen to have a spare pencil?”
@wimbcrly