Just North of Bliss by Alice Duncan

Woman,” she felt more like
a fish out of water than she usually did. And, since she’d taken to
feeling like a minnow in the midst of a herd of hungry cats on a
daily basis, the sensation was uncomfortable at best. But that was
one thing she had some say over. She would not pose alone
for pictures taken by Mr. Asher, no matter how “artistic” his
vision might be.
    Nevertheless, she sat still, back straight,
hands folded in her lap, feet set precisely together, an continued
to watch the process of photography unfold before her, and she
wasn’t bored at all. Occasionally Mr. Asher would glance at her,
but he didn’t say anything. Every time he looked, he appeared
slightly unhappy, although Belle didn’t know why. She certainly
hadn’t done anything untoward.
    She would never do anything untoward. The
most outrageous thing she’d ever done in her life to date was move
to New York. Granted, her move had been monumentally freakish, but
Mr. Asher couldn’t know that. Nor could he know that her move had
stunned her family and friends and frightened Belle nearly to
death. She wasn’t over it yet, as a matter of fact, and she didn’t
think she’d be doing anything else even remotely out of the
ordinary any time soon.
    Except pose for photographs. In a way, these
silly photographs were part of her job, though, and when Belle
looked at them in that light, they didn’t seem so unusual and
extraordinary.
    Win worked with the Richmonds for a little
over an hour, just as he’d said he’d do, taking six plates
altogether. Belle’s back never got tired, since it was so
well-supported by her corset stays, but she did finally get up and
move around from time to time, in spite of her fear that Mr. Asher
would get mad at her for doing so. Doggone it, her bottom got sore
when she sat on that hard bench for a long time. If he didn’t want
people moving around when he made them wait, he ought to supply a
softer bench cushion.
    She expelled a breath of relief when Win
finally said, “That’s it for today, folks. I’ll develop these
plates, and you can decide which ones you like best.”
    “Wonderful!” Mr. Richmond rubbed his hands
together in the gesture Belle had come to expect from him when he
was particularly pleased about something.
    She was glad the Richmonds were happy. She
was also glad the session was over, because she was getting a
trifle bored just sitting and watching and getting up occasionally
to gaze at Mr. Asher’s landscapes. They were quite lovely, but they
remained photographs and didn’t vary. No birds sang, no squirrels
chattered, no bears growled, no grass grew, and no flowers bloomed.
They were, ultimately, boring if they were all one had to look at
for an hour. She wanted to ride on the Ferris wheel and see the
sights.
    “Say,” Win ventured casually as the family
was gathering itself and its belongings together in order to take
in the rest of the fair, “I don’t suppose you’d let me borrow your
nanny for a couple of hours.”
    Belle, who had been helping Amalie on with
her straw hat, and who was eagerly anticipating getting out into
the fresh summer air, whirled around. “I beg your pardon?” She
didn’t want to be borrowed! She wanted to see the fair!
    “Well . . .” Mrs. Richmond glanced
doubtfully at her husband.
    George shrugged. “If Belle doesn’t mind, I
don’t suppose I do. What do you say, Miss Monroe?” He smiled at
Belle in a way that let her know he expected her to cooperate with
the nice photographer.
    Fiddlesticks. She didn’t want to
cooperate with the photographer, whom she didn’t consider nice at
all. But, she knew, she needed this job. However, she also
considered her job to be caring for Amalie and Garrett, not posing
for a blasted photographer. She decided to remind Mr. and Mrs.
Richmond of the latter. “What about the children? It’s my job to
take care of them.”
    Win looked peeved. Belle didn’t care.
    “But George,” Gladys said, “We want Belle