Mostly, however, I am surprised at how pleased I am to have the girl’s company again. As a schoolteacher, I often longed for a single afternoon to myself, and have always enjoyed solitude, but I see now how much I have come to appreciate Charlotte’s friendship. I believe she shares my sentiments. “I like your house,” she said, “cause it’s mostly quiet and we talk about interesting things.”
I showed her the camera and handful of plates I have developed so far, and she was wonderfully delighted. She is also eager to learn more about the chemicals, so I shared with her my notebook. I had not noticed until then how much it takes on the appearance of a mad man’s ravings?—?formulae and chemical recipes and mathematical calculations, aperture to focal length to time of exposure. As I ventured an explanation, I at last understood the considerable task undertaken by the author of the “ABC of Photography,” and do not judge him so harshly as before.
June 3
Rain! Cursed, damnable rain! I am sorry to write such words, but this country tires me with its weather! One cannot hope to take a photograph with buckets of water poured over one’s head, and so we are confined to the house with little to do.
We spent some time cleaning the dark room?—?I have asked Charlotte never to sweep, as that will only stir up the dust. Instead we must wipe everything down with wet rags. She also filled my water buckets.
As Charlotte now prepares our afternoon meal, I have wrapped myself in a blanket by the front window and am finding unexpected pleasure in the catalogue that Mr Redington provided me. I doubt I would have found it so appealing a month ago, but now every page holds a new delight. Expensive lenses. Drop shutters. Even camel hair brushes for cleaning glass plates. I mentally budget, trying to determine which items I might afford.
June 4
A brief break in the rain this afternoon. Four photographs taken among a flock of pine siskin not far from the house. I can only hope one might appear on my plates.
Miserable weather again this evening.
June 5
I offended the women, but it was not my intention, and I believe they must have some share in the blame.
Mrs Connor and her visiting younger sister, along with Sarah Whithers and Louise Bailey, took it upon themselves to walk through the rain with their umbrellas today and present themselves unannounced at my door. I was at work in the dark room and had just finished ruining a plate by leaving it too long in solution (though the photograph was so poor, it hardly mattered). The appearance of unwanted guests was of no help to my already nettled temper. When Charlotte saw them approaching the house, I joked that perhaps now was the time to fetch her sling-shot. Not that I would want anyone injured, but only chased off my porch.
From the dark room, I heard Charlotte welcome the women into the sitting room, put water on for tea, and say that I would be out in a minute. And then came Mrs Connor’s commentary?—?“Mrs Forrester has been about with her camera a great deal. It cannot leave her much time to tend the household, such as it is.”
What desire could I possibly have to venture into this conversation? It was wrong of me, but I began to develop another plate, with hopes that they might leave out of boredom, but then I heard Charlotte.
“Oh no, miss. Leave that be, miss.”
And with that, Mrs Connor’s insolent younger sister began to pull back the curtain of my dark room. It is not an easy task, for it is made of several layers of heavy wool and quilts, so as to completely block out the light, but the young woman was tugging and fighting her way through the fabric.
“What is back here?”
“Oh miss! She won’t be happy at all!”
And with that, a cascade of natural light was let into my dark room, and the image in my hands dissolved away into a smoky blackness.
“What is this place?” Soon, all the women were gathered about to gawk into the red glow.
Mrs Forrester, what have you done to your pantry? I really don’t know think the General would approve. Why is the lamp red? Oh, but it has the look of hell to it. For this, you have given up all polite society?
The rest of the visit went no better. After Charlotte had ushered them all to the table and I joined them, my eyes eventually adjusted to the daylight, and I began to notice certain things I hadn’t before. For one, it had not occurred to me how inconvenient it is to have all of one’s dry goods piled on the table, if one happens to have guests. There was little room for the teacups.
Mrs Connor began to sniff and wrinkle her nose, as if struck by an unpleasant odor. Mrs Whithers, who was sitting closest to me, stared wide-eyed at my arms, and then I remembered that my dress sleeves were rolled above the elbow like a laundry woman. As I began to unroll them and try to right myself, I saw that all my fingers were stained and dirty from the solutions, but there was nothing to be done about that. I asked Charlotte if she would please pour the tea so I would not smudge the porcelain.
“You have been missed at croquet and literature club,” said Mrs Bailey as she took up her cup of tea.