Chapter Text
Enid grunted as she pulled a bucket from the old water well. The water splashes as it sways from being lifted. Behind her, three full buckets await to be carried. It was a laborious task, one she does not look forward to every morning. Her brothers could have been a huge help if it weren’t for their mother’s insistence that they focus on their academic task, which had been more of lazing around their room and pretending to write reviews of lessons they had not cared to listen to.
The grass tickled her ankle as the wind blew west. Sun rays infiltrate the moving clouds as the morning starts bright. Oh, Jericho, Enid thinks sleepily. If only she too were granted to spend her nighttime as freely as her brothers, she would have spent it walking in the fields, haunted by fireflies just to free her mind of the torment of boredom. Instead, she gazes at her windows at night, writing herself a journal of her day that she had always found fun to do since she was young. Last night, Enid had written a letter for Agnes, which had taken her more hours than her usual writing time. She had it handed for the mailman this morning, hoping it would reach her friend quicker before the season of spring ends.
If Enid were more creative with her words, she would be a poet. But she was not, she knows that to herself. She only does plain, casual writing, and she admits to it (having read real poems from the discarded newspapers and formal letters from her father’s desk, she is far from qualifying to be a great writer), and even if she is to be a great writer, she would not be considered great, for she is a woman.
Enid had just laid the last bucket and heaved a tired breath before she turned and saw her friend hopping her way. Divina, in her long dress, held a newspaper in her hand. “Oh, this is such a beautiful day! It is going to be a beautiful day!” Divina happily sings.
At last, Divina’s early enough to be asked for help with the four buckets.
“It is going to be a better day if you—”. Enid was cut off as their arms intertwined in a swift motion. Divina takes Enid for an excited spin, almost tripping in their long dress and sudden pressure. “Whoa! Stop—Divina, we might hit the buckets!”
“Enid, it is going to be a good day!”
“Yes! You’ve repeatedly said it will be!” Enid plants her foot firmly for them to stop in the loop of dizzying circles. She held Divina’s shoulders to steady both of them. Lifting her hand off one shoulder when she was sure her friend was calm enough to listen. “Okay, and what brings you joy? A new dress?” She tries. Divina shakes her head, offering a glint in her eyes that promises something even better.
“There’s a family that is to stay for a few weeks here in our town. The Addams. My father had mentioned their coming since Monday.”
Enid ponders if she heard the same from her father, Murray. He's a man of a few words, but he never fails to tell Enid some of what he manages, seeing as how she pays heed.
“What exactly is exciting about them?” She frees her arm and resumes by putting a cloth on the handle of the bucket, cushioning her palm as she pulls the weight. Her shoulders protested from the strain. “I remember you hated a visiting family back then. What is it now that gives the opposite of a response?”
“For one, they’re rich!” How exciting, Enid sarcastically thought. She tried not to paint an uninterested expression so as not to dim the elation in her friend’s voice. “They own vast lands in different countries, well known in affluent society, and…” Divina’s smile gradually widens. “Their son is said to be pleasing to the eyes and has the manners of a gentleman. They will host an assembly tonight!”
“An assembly?” There was an increase in interest at the mention. Enid loves to dance. It had been a while since they had been invited in one.
“Yes! And we have been invited!” Divina shoves an envelope that had been covered by the rolled newspaper. “My father had sent a request earlier for whatever conversation he plans with them. We didn't expect a quick reply, actually, considering their overall status and how the whole town had been buzzing with the news for the later evening. Here, take a look.”
The reply message was direct, written in elegant handwriting on thick, high-quality paper. Enid hands it back with a curious thought of whether her father had done the same and if she’d be one also to convince him if her mother’s predictable insistence on it is something she could already smell from this distance of their home. And—she was right. The sound of Enid’s brothers chattering regarding the daughter and who would be taking her hands for later was the first that she heard as she entered their house. Divina bid her goodbye near the doorstep after carefully laying the two buckets she helped Enid with, and dropped a brief, excited message about her preparation for later.
Enid feigns no interest and puts on her energy to finish her task. And then flops on the solo cushion, too tired to match the energy of her brothers on the long sofa. Her head thrown back as she rested all of her muscles. “Murray! We must be there in the evening. It is too rare, too rare, are you listening to me?” Esther follows behind her husband as the two enter the living room. It was obvious that the conversation about the matter had already started for hours. “Your children are aging day by day, and just think for a moment how their future matters. Enid, too, oh our Enid. There are no suitable suitors for her here in Jericho. Pugsley would be great for her! She must be able to dance with him.”
Murray smiles as he notices Enid on the sofa, and Enid smiles back. Esther motioned for everyone to come to Murray’s office, and her brothers stood in quick strides. Enid followed reluctantly. Murray can also be quite stern when he has decided. “Is he single? How come you've easily concluded that he isn't?”
Esther scoffs at Murray's question. “It is his marital status that has first been opened up for discussion in the talks of their coming. In fact, both of the children are single. One of them has to at least be married to our children,” she speaks with determination. “I must be sure of it. But first, it is you that is—”
“The Addams are not here to look for partners, my dear.” His hand dismissively waves. “They are here for a vacation, and if they are to form any sort of relationship, it would most likely be left here as well. It will end before they move back into the ownership of their vast lands from different countries than this small town.” Murray sat on his chair, and Enid on the window as her brothers whispered disappointed phrases. “Besides, I have heard and met their daughter before. She would not like our sons—in fact, she would not like anyone at all. She is a smart woman who prefers solitude and would be of great surprise if she even attended the ball.”
“But Enid is still in the equation, might I remind you of that. Thein son Pugsley, I have heard of him so much from my friends this morning, and how much of a young gentleman he is, and how perfect it would be if she could just get the chance to meet our daughter.” Esther smiled widely. “He is to inherit all of their lands as well, no? Women are less likely to be passed the inheritance from.”
Murray shakes his head. “Not to that family. It will be fairly shared, and when it comes to finance, their daughter invests way better. Their son is too young and carefree, and although he is a gentleman, Enid’s preference would still be of greater importance than their money.”
“You are still not giving them a chance to meet!” Esther exasperatedly walked towards the settee and fell dramatically into it. “This family is about to bury itself from a lack of action for the betterment. We are forever going to be miserable from keeping all of the chances at bay and pushed aside.”
Enid chuckled silently. Murray merely shakes his head and dips his pen into the ink, busying himself with important matters, his hallmark move of indicating he would not listen for more.
Enid takes the moment to look at their neighbors near the open window of the room. In there, she’s seen Mrs. Weems outside talking with others.
“It is great weather to walk in the fields,” Ralph says. Enid's eldest brother leaned on the border of the wall and the window. His eyes squint as he watches the green outside. “Would my sister be a great company for a walk?”
“Your sister has walked a long distance for the water,” Enid frowns at him. She might love walking, but too much of it is far from tempting. “You don't even like walking. You like your horse.”
“Then should we ride my boy?” He offers instead. Boy, his name is for his elegant, beautiful dark horse that Enid thinks he does not deserve much. He even gave it a stupid name.
Enid takes her time to think. “I want to ride my own horse.”
Which would mean wanting for her brother to use his eldest privilege with his younger brothers, but also kind of giving a heart attack from both of their parents, who are immensely opposed to Enid ever riding a horse.
“I guess it is not good weather to ride,” he says, jokingly. Enid kicks his shin and huffs.
"You're no fun."
“If we get caught, I'm going to get you kicked by my boy.”
“Are you serious?” Enid gasped, turning to see if they were heard. “Was that a yes?”
“Come now, before I change my mind,” Enid tried not to appear too excited; she’d rather not get into the hot blood of her sulking mother. Her lips were twitching for a smile that she tried to keep as they carefully exit the room unnoticed. This day might be as good as Divina said. “You are going to use my horse. I'm sacrificing my boy for the risk of you using it.”
“You do acknowledge that I have never fallen from riding a horse and could actually race, no?” Back before Enid got caught riding a horse by her mother, she raced with her brothers fairly every random day and had won more than she could count. “Just because our parents decided I should be dainty and fragile as a woman, doesn't mean I've become a lesser good rider.”
“You are putting words into my mouth.”
“Putting words is different from interpreting the implications of words,” Enid bumps his shoulder purposely before they parted to guide the horses by the reins. Rounding the house to use the path of their backyard so as not to be seen in the windows of Murray's office.
“If you could respond to our parents the same way as you respond to me, maybe you would be able to get help for the daily waters,” He offers his hand to help Enid hop on the saddle. Enid takes it and steadies herself, breathing in the gust of wind that ruffles her clothes and hair. “Have our other siblings help with the chores in the house. Since it offends our mother highly to hire a housekeeper.”
“Maybe, you do the honors and actually help. It's quite performative and contradictory to speak so well if your actions don't match.”
Ralph patted the horse and then led their way at a calm pace. “Unlike my younger siblings, I actually use my morning productively.”
“All I'm hearing is an excuse.”
Ralph shrugs, dismissing the topic by asking. “What do you think about the ball later?”
Enid fixes the strand of hair that the wind unclasped from her pins as it continues to blow and brings off the smell of the leaves. “What use of my thoughts, if our father would not agree to send them a request?”
“Father would fold to mother's demand. He needs a conversation with Gomez Addams regarding his advice for reselling papers. Newspapers are big in business.”
Enid almost yawned at the topic. “The world has turned complicated ever since society decided to construct money,” she says uninterestedly.
Ralph amusedly laughs at her. “If you were a man, your way of thinking would lead you to being quoted in books.”
“Being a man is not desirable; it is their freedom that is,” Enid chews the bottom of her lip. “If I were a man, I would buy acres of land.”
“And what would you do about your acres of land if you were to have it?”
A lot. Enid thinks to herself. Just the thought of owning a vast pool of empty greens and transforming it by her hands into a paradise of colorful flowers gives an ache in her chest. How disappointing it is that nothing in the world can truly be hers. “It is more for my amusement than anything else. I would love a huge garden with fountains and to walk in it every season. I know not a single man with the same reason for purchasing lands.”
“Ah, well, you have yet to meet the Addams. They are unique with their reasons,” He says, and he pauses his horse, his gaze afar. “Their daughter is the owner of their land in this town, did you know?”
“No,” Enid answers, almost in a whisper. It is rare to hear a woman own land, own anything. “It seems then that our father meant it when he said the Addams have divided their fortune fairly for their two children.”
“Of course, Father would not lie. He is a very observant man. They—the Addams are often referred to as peculiar, and I do agree that they are. In different ways, such as their family dynamic and their fashion of remarkable preference for dark clothing. Their unusual take on things in this world of following trends has been one of their strengths for recognition.” Ralph turned his horse to face Enid. “I have met them before with Father. I have also conversed with their son.”
“Pugsley?”
“Yes. He is a lot younger than I and you. His manners are adequate.”
Enid laughs at his words. “Adequate is not enough, you have said so yourself.”
“He is younger.” He reiterates. “And it has been years ago and I could only imagine how better he is now. Taller, maybe.”
Enid hums suspiciously, eyeing his expression. “What makes you talk about him so much?”
“They say that a man of great wealth must be looking for a wife.”
Enid wonders what exactly is on his mind. “I do not see the issue?”
“I think that you ought to attend.” He says earnestly. “You deserve to at least give a decent man with decent wealth a chance for your heart.”
“I am not exactly looking for a man to marry,” Enid slumps. “To be bound in marriage is a prison in disguise.”
“Pugsley is different.”
“You do not know him at all.” Enid straightened her back and patted the horse to walk again. “You met him one time and concluded that he is adequate for your sister.”
“It is not what I meant,” He defends, following her path. “But mother is right, there is no suitable man for you here in Jericho.”
“There is no suitable man for me anywhere.”
“That I do not argue of,” Ralph keeps up with her pace. “If I am to be with their daughter, I guess I can also give you a fair share of land.”
“You mean their land? No, I would rather not. To marry is such an odd concept and is greatly mismatched with women’s rights. If my husband is to give my land to her sibling, I would not be happy.” Enid throws him a glare. “If you are to treat your woman abominably, I would have you fed by the pigs.”
“I shall be very careful then,” he replies without defense. “It would be very controversial to have my own sister plot my death. Anyway, it is very unlikely for me to be acquainted with her. There is a higher chance of you getting with her brother than us men in the family combined ever holding a conversation with Wednesday Addams."
“How so?”
He tilts his head, trying to remember his only interaction with the other family. “Miss Wednesday does not talk much, or at all. She speaks only when necessary and does not cower from speaking her mind straightaway without regard for whether it is offensive. She may come off as prideful to some.”
Enid paints a picture of a woman her age who is rich enough to be spoken ill of but with respect. “I do not know what to think of her based on how you and Father describe her.” Pugsley seems to be easier to project into thinking. “All I hear is a woman who does not entertain and is highly intelligent to handle her riches. Which is apparently harder to obtain for men.”
Ralph grins at Enid’s observation. “Men are seen as providers, and it takes a huge slice of our pride to be with a woman who could—”
“Stand by themselves? Be their independent person?” Enid asks despite the exasperated sigh of her brother.
“It is a social construct as much as the concept of money is,” he explains.
Enid looks at him, and silence engulfed them along with the rustling of leaves. They roamed the nearby forest and talked about other things until they reached noon and decided that they must be back for lunch. When they were back, Esther remained slouched on the sofa with no cooked food. Murray motioned to the bread he bought and continued reading one of his papers. Ralph shook his head and sat at the dining table while Enid was about to walk towards her room.
“Enid,” Murray calls. “You must eat for later. Shame your mother has not readied you for the ball.”
“There is no ball. You refused to send them a letter, and we cannot enter their mansion without an invitation.” Esther responds.
“There is no need for me to send them a letter when Mister Gomez has already given his invitation.”
Esther sat instantaneously, her face masked in a surprised expression. “He did?”
“Of course, the ball is merely one of the things the night beholds for the Addams. Mister Gomez is to hold a meeting with other businessmen of this town to encourage them to invest in some of his nearby businesses.” Murray drank from his cold tea, brewed since the morning, only to wince and put it aside. Esther was on his side in an instant, her hand snatching the container of tea.
“I must get you a hot one with a pot of your favorite soup! How come you concealed the information! How silly of you,” Esther immediately danced to the kitchen. “Enid, go bathe yourself! You must smell of flowers for the night!”
Murray appear amused and satisfied with the astonishment in the expression of his sons and the excited glee of his wife.
Meanwhile, Ralph laughs at Enid’s expression. “What are you standing there for? Mother wants you to reek of daisies.” Enid threw him a glare for it.
“A man could reek of alcohol and smoke for the night, and they’d still be considered decent,” She mutters distastefully and marches to her room. Divina would be delighted by Enid coming to the ball this evening, and Enid marked it on her mind to go to her friend after preparing herself. She immediately rummaged through her cabinet, her hand hesitating over which dress to wear, only to remember that Mistress Weems had gifted her one recently.
She crouched to pull her lower compartment, revealing the dress at once, smiling at how beautiful it was. It would be perfect to wear for the night. Enid excitedly walks to her mirror and watches herself, turning her head side to side as she thinks of the perfect way to wear her hair with the dress.
The hours went by slowly, affected by everyone’s anticipation for the clock to hit six. When it finally did, Enid, accompanied by her brothers, filled the carriage. It was not too cramped as their parents and other siblings filled the other carriage. There was a slight drizzle outside, and the clouds did not seem too dark to indicate a downpour.
Ralph, beside Enid, begins humming, then leans forward to catch the attention of their younger brother Thomas. “Do not play your sad melodic ballads later,” he says to him sternly. “We might drive the guests away.” Knowing Thomas, if he really prefers to play a tune that many do not fancy, he still would not care.
“For what more can I do than to please the ears of my crowd?” Thomas crosses his arms. Clearly displeased with having been forced to play genres that he liked least. “Mister Dort promised that I can play any songs during the feast.”
“Only during the feast.” Ralph nodded, not caring if he plays for the dead during the feast so long as it is not during the dance. “Yes, of course. Just make sure you also fill your stomach, for our mother would surely be the cause of our late return home.”
It was not a long ride to the venue. Ralph assisted Enid to get out of the carriage once they had reached it, and Enid thanked him. Inside the house were familiar faces of the people of Jericho dressed in clothes that were far more glamorous than their daily wear. Thomas parted from his family early, eager to replace the musician playing his instrument.
Mister Dort, who apparently is very closely acquainted with the Addams, has organized everything and is the first to approach them with a wave of his hand as he fastens his steps. “I am delighted to see your family attend this evening, Mister Murray.”
“Good evening, Mister Dort,” Murray smiles warmly at him. “It is of great pleasure to see you again. It has been a long time since we last had a proper drink.”
Dort beamed at the mention. “We shall soon talk about this, along with the head of Tanaka. I am sure Enid is aware that her friend Yoko is to come back soon.”
“Indeed,” Enid politely agrees. “She has sent me a letter. However, she has not explicitly stated what day she’ll be back in town.”
“The Tanakas never announce their coming,” Murray replies, and Ralph beside him agrees, adding, “It is likely next week during Jericho’s founding anniversary.”
“Whenever it will be, Murray and I must spend it with her father,” Dort taps Murray's shoulder, sharing a fond smile. “I shall introduce you to the Addams.”
“My family and I are thankful for being sent an invitation by Mister Gomez himself. I must thank him personally.” Murray said and turned his head around, trying to find Gomez.
“Mister Gomez is yet to come here with his Family. They might be here in a few more minutes. They had told me that they would be running a little late as they had to convince their daughter to come."
Enid locks eyes with her brother, who bites back a grin and an "I told you so."
The song changes when Thomas takes charge and switches it into the request of his brother Ralph, mentioned in the carriage. Some people have started gathering in the middle, and some are already asking women for their hand.
Divina appears by Enid’s side just then, a bitten cupcake in her left hand. “You should have just joined our carriage. Kent has merely said anything from the nervousness.” She bites into the sugary delight as if to compensate. “I have been indulging myself with their unending appetizers and snacks because of their odd chef. I do not know if he jests about the ingredients involving Australia’s best parasites."
“Why was Kent nervous?” Enid inquires, allowing herself to be pulled on the side.
“The Addams came along with their friend Ottinger, the main supplier of beeswax in the country, including the store near our house. And then, he invited the Addamses since he was close to Pugsley. You have heard of him, right?”
Enid hums. “My brother met him once years ago,”
“I hope I get to dance even just one of them.”
“You still haven't answered my question?” Enid reminds her friend. “It is rare for Kent to be nervous.”
Divina leans close to Enid’s ear. “Mother pressured him to dance Wednesday Addams." She reveals. "It seems that every man tonight knows how big a deal it is to dance with her.” Around them, a rare view of men are fixating on their presentation. “I’m not going to blame him if he wasn’t able to. The chance of Ms. Wednesday entertaining any man in Jericho is less than zero.”
The creaking of the door as it opens wasn’t loud, but the music faltered as one by one, people dressed in fancy dark clothing, which Enid remembers is the trademark of the family that has homed the minds of the town’s people, entered the room. People parted to make space for them to walk into. Enid looks at each of the members, momentarily locking eyes with their only daughter—Wednesday, her eyes holding no emotion—a void of pitch black that reflects nothing but emptiness. Coldly, she breaks their eye contact as she keeps up with the stride of her family members.
Enid felt a hand on her wrist and a slight tug from her mother as she gathered her family back in one place, while the others gave way to the Addams, whose members humbly thanked the people before settling to the side and being stopped first by Mistress Weems. The people began dancing again as the music’s volume increased.
“Which one of them is Mister Ottinger and Mister Pugsley?” Enid whispers beside her brother.
“The shy curly-haired guy is Mister Eugene Ottinger, and the taller one is Mister Pugsley,” he points subtly. The two men are obviously younger than every man present inside the room. “Shall I introduce you to them?”
“I do not like men younger than I,” Enid winced. “I did not expect them to be so young. Especially Pugsley.”
“He is not too young? He is an adult.”
“He seems like he experienced adulthood yesterday,” Enid shakes her head in further disapproval. “The case sits the same to his friend—Mister Ottinger.”
Ralph’s face is twisted in disappointment. “You are to grow old alone with your standards so unfitting for men. You have introduced one time to our family with Bruno, and he turns out to be a married man—And no, we are highly aware you were merely victimized by his charms,” he pauses and calmly looks at Enid. “But it is one of your many encounters with failed relationships with men that they could never be perfect.”
“I am not striving for a perfect man. I would not take my past encounters with men of appropriate age to lower my standard. I know that in the eyes of the people, men can still be desirable even if they are single in the age where they appear to draw their painful last breath, whereas women are undesirable after blowing a candle past the age of fertility. But I would not, by any means, settle for spending my future in complicity in par for the course.”
Esther stalks towards them, and Enid stops herself. “What is it that you are talking about for both of you to so rarely wear a serious expression of?”
“Ralph is plotting how he will introduce himself,” Enid lies.
Esther nods his head to him, proud of having his son show the most courage. “You can already tell, Miss Wednesday, can’t you?”
Standing in the far end corner of the room is the current talk of the town. The elder Addams eyes the crowd with affliction, a strong distaste evident even with her abiding neutral expression. It was starting from this behavior observed in her by the ever-wary crowd that began a new circulation in her already blooming popularity.
“Well,” Esther delightedly clasped her hand, her eyes a twinkle of delight, before it flickered off when her gaze landed on her sons. “What an impeccable posture Wednesday Addams carries herself in. Proud. Elegant.”
Enid merely hums uninterestedly as she busies herself looking at other potential dance suitors. Her mother had been obsessed with talking about the Addams family and their… lavish lifestyle ever since the news of their visit graced the town. “You must approach her, Mama, before she leaves. She seems to find the evening tedious.”
“You are right, we must not waste more of the time,” before her mother could take a step, Dort approached the Addams and then glanced at Esther, who bowed her head eagerly when their heads suddenly turned to her. “How charming it is for Mister Dort to do it for us,” Esther says while fixing her dress that needs no fixing. “And your incredible father is nowhere to be found when it matters most.”
Wednesday and Pugsley stood behind their parents as they all approached. “Ms. Sinclair,” the woman with impeccable raven hair utters. “I am Morticia Addams,” she introduced herself, her merlot colored lipstick complementing the same shade of her choice of jewelry. Her husband, standing slightly shorter than her, introduced himself as Gomez. The married couple had a pleasant countenance. Their children are undeniably good-looking.
“My husband is yet to be here; however, he was most excited to personally relay his and our gratefulness to be invited this evening.” Esther informs them after formally introducing herself and her children.
“Do not worry about Murray, I am to talk to him later with Ralph if he is to join us,” Gomez looks at Ralph, questioningly.
“It would be my pleasure to have a conversation with you, Mister Addams.” Ralph agrees, his eyes casting to Wednesday, who did not bat him or his other brothers an ounce of attention. “After a dance with your daughter, perhaps?” He slips in. Everyone’s attention is drawn to Wednesday, who looks at him for the first time without much of a twitch in her skin.
“I would have to take down your request,” she says simply. Leaving it as it is and never speaking again.
“My little Tormenta detests to be touched,” Gomez reasons out, unbothered by his daughter’s lack of manners. “And she is not in her best mood after we disrupted her writing time.”
“Your daughter writes?” Esther questions. “Is it published?”
Gomez chuckles at the question. “She thrives in the privacy of her work, but if she so wishes the public to have the privilege of reading her works, I would have all the papers I can control to have it printed.”
“Our daughter said we could read it when society has collapsed from its inevitable doom along the bleeding of the moon as it watches from above.” Morticia seemed elated by her own words. Enid carefully looked at her side to make sure she heard the odd phrase correctly.
“Mister Pugsley,” enters Dort. “This is Enid Sinclair, one of Jericho’s finest women.”
“Good evening, Miss Enid.” Pugsley greets and Enid greets him back. Awkwardly, none of them said more to fill the expectation of a conversation expected of them. Gomez and Morticia had to leave them early because they were asked by the other families, and the rest were left with a tight tension.
“The two of you are such a lovely sight! Do tell, surely sir, you would want to dance and have not asked any lady for tonight?” Esther convinces. Pugsley alternated his gaze to his sister and then to Esther.
“Pugsley is not to dance your daughter, Mrs. Sinclair,” Wednesday says. It was unexpected by all of them.
“Why not?” Esther was evidently perplexed. She turns her head to look at her sons, muttering to her eldest to fix his hair and then to Enid, whom she takes a second to stare at before her silence signifies that there's no need for any fixing. She has always been meticulous with presentation, and it has doubled for tonight.
“He had already asked for Pentley’s hand when Mistress Larissa introduced her daughter.” A lie. Enid caught that questioning look on Pugsley's face. “Haven't you, brother?”
“O-of course,” he agrees. “A while ago. Before I have even seen your youngest daughter, Madam.”
“Oh, but have you asked Ms. Pentley to dance with you all night? For all six sets?” Esther inquires. Her expression was ruined for losing her only chance to be acquainted with the Addams. Enid does not know if her mother has known about Eugene, and she hopes she never gets to know.
Wednesday left them without a word. Her retreating figure increases the bizarre air.
“I–I’m sorry for my sister,” Pugsley apologizes on her behalf. “She is not used to social interactions and was rather forced by me to attend this ball. Her mood is not pleasant. I must go to her. Again, I am sorry, especially to you, Mrs. Esther.”
“It is all right,” Esther gave a tight smile and a bow. Enid had never seen her mother more offended than she is now. Her face reflected a myriad of negative reflections of her thoughts. Pugsley offered an apologetic smile once more and had turned his back. Enid’s older brothers scattered as if the scene had brushed them like the wind. It was their mother who had taken the offense immensely, storming furiously to the crowd of her fellow acquaintances, ready to have a whispering campaign. It was obvious by then that she was going to tell them about the Addams. One in particular, specifically the woman who withdrew into a corner, and for some reason tortured herself to standing still.
The evening bountifully progressed. Except, the reputation of Wednesday Addams has turned like a boat in the tide, for she was considered to be too proud and above being pleased after she turned down every man that has asked for her hand. Not even her greatness in handling her fortune than her brother could save her from having a better reputation when Pugsley showed better manners. The ball had ended early, and the majority found their way to their seat at the tables as the feast started.
Enid sat next to her friend Divina. Unaware of how close it was to be able to hear a conversation between the siblings.
“There,” he hears Pugsley. She spared a glance to verify that he was indeed looking at Enid. “You stopped me from asking her for a dance, and what for? Shall you waste the precious time of a lady as well?”
Enid's neck is tempted to look at them once more to ogle at the perpetual null expression of the woman, unsure if it is the desire to see a slight twitch. However, she remained smiling and appeared interested in the conversation playing around her to disguise herself. Somewhere, she lost track of them and was genuinely confused when she heard about the topic of crops.
“You had been eyeing Miss Pentley ever since you set foot inside the room,” Wednesday replies accusingly. “Why must you waste the precious time of someone else if your attention had rather been stolen already from the beginning?”
“Ah, well, I am not pointing you wrong for that,” Pugsley chuckles, his hand raising on his abdomen as if to hold the butterflies inside of it. “Miss Pentley had caught multiple prey from her web, and I have been one of those deathly tangled, uncontested. I suppose, hadn't you intervened, I would not have gotten the chance to boldly ask her for two dances.”
The piano music ended, and the lack of additional noise stopped the two. They moved further back, their voice still within reach of Enid's. Wednesday’s neck turned in Enid’s direction as if sensing her gaze, and Enid subtly continued pretending to be immersed in whatever crops of land the businessman had been talking about.
“You are wasting your time on me, Pugsley.” On her periphery, Enid sees Wednesday cross her arms. “I am not one to participate in performative social interactions.”
“I would like to insist that you at least dance!” He persisted. “It is not uncommon for women to dance together here if you would like to ask the youngest Sinclair,” he says, in a tone that is hard to decipher. Enid's posture snapped straight. Her brow furrowed in confusion. Why would Pugsley insist his sister dance with her?
“I have not been tempted by finer men and women,” Wednesday says, having a little more tint of emotion that broke her monotonous streak. “She's not handsome enough to give me the desire to participate in such.”
Not handsome enough?
Wow. Enid rolled her eyes. A scoff stuck in her throat. Eyes are really a reflection of the soul, and Wednesday Addams' soul is as dark as the most opaque black to ever exist.
Pugsley shortly hums. His eyes once again set on Miss Pentley as a new melody is pressed on the keys of the piano. “Well then, enjoy the night. I shall be reclaiming the hands of the prettiest woman in this room.” He walks away and leaves his sister alone.
Enid stood from where she sat, offering a short excuse to leave the conversation she had barely comprehended. There’s a strong itch that triggers annoyance knowing Wednesday Addams stands in the periphery of her vision. Enid wishes to move to a different place. And as annoying as it is, her path requires striding towards where the prideful woman stood with crossed arms. Wonderful.
She began to take the appalling path only to be stopped by Mr. Dort. “Miss Enid, we cross paths afresh. I must redirect you for a moment.”
Confused, Enid was led by her arms and in front of the woman whom she was carefully trying not to encounter. Wednesday stared straight into her eyes. It almost brought a shiver down Enid's spine.
“Ah, I had already been introduced to Ms. Addams,” Enid politely replied with a smile on her face.
The man, oblivious still, didn't remove his hand from Enid's shoulder so as not to let her walk away. “How wasteful this night would be if you were not to entertain her company then!” He says, jolly.
“Do not obligate her to my dreary company, Mister Dort,” Wednesday replied. Enid couldn't agree more with her statement. “I am sure we are belaying her from other gentlemen.”
“Enid had been sitting far too long without an invitation,” he says, and Enid wasn't able to stop her eyes from rolling. He didn't have to hit her with a paraphrased version of no one asked for her hand. “Besides, you have been throwing too many glances in her direction the whole night! If that doesn't mean you are intrigued to have a conversation, I do not know more!” He says, far too enthusiastically. “Miss Enid Sinclair is a fun person to converse with, so I had been told. She is certainly one of the reasons you will find this town worth the stay.” He finally dropped his hand from Enid's shoulder, and Enid's foot hadn't been quicker to take a step back.
“Please, excuse me. I apologize for having to leave this conversation early. I have to talk to my brother about something,” Enid reasons out. She knew by the piercing gaze of the woman that she sees right through the lie, and even so, Enid does not make an effort to amend herself.
September 12, 1811
It was not, in fact, a good day as Divina had hoped it would be this morning.
The day’s event progressed too excitedly for such a climax to be so dull. I have never been led to the promise of a good night just to be crushed by a single woman who was too prideful because of her status, and for whatever it is that made her too proud of herself to talk about other people without respect.
Perhaps I have mentioned her pride too much because it is the only thing that she exudes. She, who holds an empty gaze and is painfully too pretty for her ill-favored mouth. I had never hated a woman before, and hate is too heavy as well to be labeled for my current sentiment for Wednesday Addams. I do not know what I think of her, but I wish not to encounter her much in this town where she temporarily stays.