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In Kingsbury
14 January 2007 02:10 pmIt's a terrifying thing having to introduce a piece of one's present to a critical piece of one's past and deep down inside, he knows he can't possibly fool the inimitable Mrs Pentstemmon... but he's going to try. He's either got the bravery or foolishness to believe if anyone can fool her, it's him and Sophie.
But not really.
She's dressed in all her finery with the exception of her horrid old stick, but Sophie insists on taking it with her for moral support. Still, she does him proud, grumping about in a long-suffering way and dressed to the nines. He too is dressed even more beautifully than normal; he's come out of the bath smelling of roses, of faraway flowers, of things most people could only dream of. Catching the snooping look on Sophie's face as they walk through the castle door and into the streets of Kingsbury, he kindly confesses that the castle entrance there is simply a disused stable. It sets them all a bit at ease knowing the details; he and Sophie and Michael make their way through the horridly hot streets of Kingsbury looking as fine as any of the other passers-by.
"By the way, Mrs Pentstemmon will call you Mrs Pendragon. Pendragon's the name I go under here." He does it for disguise, and also because when push comes to shove, Pendragon's a much better name than Jenkins. Quite befitting the man trying to slither out of being the King's royal wizard.
"I get by quite well with a plain name," Sophie mutters.
"We can't all be Mad Hatters." It's a simple statement of truth; they near the stately gracious tall house at the end of the street flanked with orange trees in tubs. An elderly footman in black velvet leads them both into Mrs Pentstemmon's marble hallway. He knows the footman; they're old friends from the days Howl studied here and he's not so high and might that he's above a joke, a friendly exchange of words ("Hullo, Hunch, have you heard the one about the wizard and the cranky old ogress?"). Besides, it should all help set Sophie more at ease. When Hunch passes them along to a page boy, Howl simply smiles: this is good practice for the palace.
In Mrs Pentstemmon's drawing room, everything is blue and gold and white, small and fine. when she holds out her gold-mesh-mitten-encrusted hand, he bends and kisses her hand, motioning for Michael to join the page boy at the door: this is his role today since appearances are everything. "Mrs Pentstemmon, allow me to present my old mother." A few more words of introduction, and he finds himself dismissed so that Sophie and his former teacher might discuss him in private. There's nothing to do but take Michael to the terrace with him, knowing full well that Hunch will bring them something nice and cool to drink.
The rest of it is in Sophie's hands. He knows intimately that if there's a single person alive up to the task, it's his Sophie.
But not really.
She's dressed in all her finery with the exception of her horrid old stick, but Sophie insists on taking it with her for moral support. Still, she does him proud, grumping about in a long-suffering way and dressed to the nines. He too is dressed even more beautifully than normal; he's come out of the bath smelling of roses, of faraway flowers, of things most people could only dream of. Catching the snooping look on Sophie's face as they walk through the castle door and into the streets of Kingsbury, he kindly confesses that the castle entrance there is simply a disused stable. It sets them all a bit at ease knowing the details; he and Sophie and Michael make their way through the horridly hot streets of Kingsbury looking as fine as any of the other passers-by.
"By the way, Mrs Pentstemmon will call you Mrs Pendragon. Pendragon's the name I go under here." He does it for disguise, and also because when push comes to shove, Pendragon's a much better name than Jenkins. Quite befitting the man trying to slither out of being the King's royal wizard.
"I get by quite well with a plain name," Sophie mutters.
"We can't all be Mad Hatters." It's a simple statement of truth; they near the stately gracious tall house at the end of the street flanked with orange trees in tubs. An elderly footman in black velvet leads them both into Mrs Pentstemmon's marble hallway. He knows the footman; they're old friends from the days Howl studied here and he's not so high and might that he's above a joke, a friendly exchange of words ("Hullo, Hunch, have you heard the one about the wizard and the cranky old ogress?"). Besides, it should all help set Sophie more at ease. When Hunch passes them along to a page boy, Howl simply smiles: this is good practice for the palace.
In Mrs Pentstemmon's drawing room, everything is blue and gold and white, small and fine. when she holds out her gold-mesh-mitten-encrusted hand, he bends and kisses her hand, motioning for Michael to join the page boy at the door: this is his role today since appearances are everything. "Mrs Pentstemmon, allow me to present my old mother." A few more words of introduction, and he finds himself dismissed so that Sophie and his former teacher might discuss him in private. There's nothing to do but take Michael to the terrace with him, knowing full well that Hunch will bring them something nice and cool to drink.
The rest of it is in Sophie's hands. He knows intimately that if there's a single person alive up to the task, it's his Sophie.
