Henry Adam Wood is carried by his two footmen to the new chaise lounge recently installed in his library. His leather armchairs have been pushed to the periphery of the fireplace so that the chaise would get the last warmth and comfort of the hearth as it died like Henry Adam Wood intended to get the last word in every relationship in his life as he, too, died.
His footmen carefully deposit Henry Adam Wood onto the cushions, arrange the pillows behind his back, and wrap a blanket around his legs. Henry, meanwhile, looks on with the passivity of a pampered man. Their ministrations completed, the footmen start for the library door.
H.A. Wood [slightly annoyed, pointing carelessly somewhere above his head]: Table.
The footmen hurry back and bring around a tea table from behind the headrest of the chaise. On it is a neat stack of paper, a crystal bottle of ink, and Henry's engraved writing pen.
Footman 1: Apologies, Mr. Wood.
Henry Adam Wood weakly waves them away, his eyes closed in weariness.
After they're gone and he's alone with his thoughts, Henry turns towards the tea table and picks up his pen. He writes, 'Dear Miss Wilmington.'
The ink blots, and Henry tsks in annoyance. He crumples the paper up and tosses it carelessly onto the floor. He tries to begin again, but lounging on a chaise simply does not lend itself to writing letters. So Henry sighs like a man with the burden of the world upon his shoulders, pushes his blanket off as if it weighs as much as chain mail, and gets up. He walks slowly--for he really is sick--around the chaise and makes his way to a large mahogany desk. There he sinks gratefully into his great chair. After a moment of repose, he takes out another stack of papers from one of the drawers, picks up another engraved pen, and dips it into another crystal bottle of ink.
H.A. Wood [mental narration while writing]: [The thirteenth letter of Henry Adam Wood, up to the postscript]
Henry is about to put down his pen, but he pauses, a thought having occurred to him.
H.A. Wood [mental narration while writing]: [The thirteenth letter of Henry Adam Wood, the postscript]
Satisfied with his letter writing, Henry Adam Wood puts down his pen and reaches behind him to pull the service bell. A few moments later, Footman 2 enters.
H.A. Wood [glancing up briefly while preparing his letter for postage]: Some tea, Charles. Oh, and tidy up, will you?
He gestures in the general direction of the chaise.
Created: Mar 14, 2014hrmph Document Media