Glinda placed her head delicately on her desk in defeat. Yet another missive from her parents and yet another enquiry into her social life. It was becoming increasingly hard to massage the fact that she now almost exclusively spent her time with Elphaba, Nessa and Nanny. That she occasionally went to the pub with the motliest of imaginable crews.
Pfannee and Shenshen languished unvisited down the hall. Without real effort Glinda's letters home would be a constant recital of 'Elphaba and I… Elphaba and I…'
Perhaps she ought to get out more. But she had very dramatically ceased to care about such things.
If only her parents would.
Every week they wrote and more than once had gone unanswered before the next arrived. While dining out on Glinda's academic success to their friends in Frottica they simultaneously seemed to suggest she do less.
Glinda was sure she was suffering some discombobulation from it all. She had been so convinced as to her own genius in arriving at Shiz. Since that day she had grown less and less sure, less and less capable. The world constantly unfolded anew, revealing her ignorance.
Elphaba said - Glinda threw down her pen and it skittered across the desk leaving smudges in protest.
Elphaba said! Again, Elphaba. Elphaba did little more than sit in judgement and dispense bon mots. Irritatingly they were off-the-cuff far better than anything Glinda put real effort into. These letters were in danger of being nothing more than The Collected Wisdoms of Elphaba Thropp.
Her parents ought to be careful what they wished for. Some girls' parents would be thrilled their child was getting an education and not fraternising with young men. Glinda considered that for a moment. On reflection that seemed unlikely. University was a bone tossed before marriage. A preamble, or, to really pay off on the investment, the prologue in the Happy Ever After story where the gentleman of good fortune met his cultivated bride-to-be.
Having now worked herself up into what Nanny would describe as "a right tizzy" Glinda fumed with righteous indignation, seized up her pen and added a final paragraph to the letter.
"In fact I have formed an attachment of great merit - to Elphaba. I hope you will be thrilled, she is after all the heir to the Thropp Eminency, of tall Munchkin stock and the strength of the green can be muted with sympathetic lighting. Your ever loving daughter."
She triumphantly signed off and rammed the letter into its envelope before throwing herself onto her bed and letting out a loud groan. Damn her parents for making her come here. She had been perfectly happy in her Pertha Hills ignorance of the world. And now, to top it all off, she would have to rewrite the whole letter just to erase that one childish flight of fancy at the end.
That could wait until tomorrow though, until she had calmed herself down and composed a more appropriate retort.
The next morning she woke fully dressed in much the same position she had landed in last night but was so busy getting ready for class she forgot the cause of it.
That evening the Buttery was host to a great disagreement over Unionist versus Lurlinistic iconography that must be so urgently resolved that Glinda and Elphaba followed Nessa back into her room next door and stayed there all evening until someone thumped on the wall in protest at which point Glinda returned to her room and again fell asleep fully dressed.
The morning after that Nanny came in squawking and harassing Glinda into readiness for a day that she was not at all ready for.
That afternoon Glinda blew off a study session in the library in order to manage her life better so that she did not once more fall asleep fully clothed. She sallied into her room with all the best of intentions for productivity.
Elphaba was in situ reading, watching the tidying and listening to the pronouncements with great patience and only the tiniest of smirks.
Presently Glinda turned her attentions to her desk and groaned at the remembrance she must write that letter all over again. At least now she could consult Elphaba on a suitable way to shatter her parents dreams that she would be getting married any time soon.
She moved a pile of books out of the way. Then she moved a pair of stockings, a bill of sale, an old Buttery menu, more books, her pens, more receipts, a shawl, blotting paper, notecards, more books, several newspapers, an illustrated Pertha Hills calendar of rural scenes… until she reached the bare wood of the desk top.
Then she went through this pile on the floor, replacing it on the desk, until she reached the battered rug. She stood, feeling a little queasy.
"Elphaba," Glinda said, grey and desperate, "where is the letter I had here?"
"I took it to the post," Elphaba answered, pausing in anticipation of thanks that was most certainly not forthcoming.
"Elphaba..." Glinda tried to extract a different outcome from a repeated question. "Did you post the letter to my parents that was on my desk?"
"Yes. I had some correspondence of my own to take to the porter. Which reminds me: you owe me for the postage."
Glinda sat down forcefully. "When was this?"
"Yesterday. You can be very forgetful."
Glinda lost sensation in her fingertips. "Where do you suppose it is now?"
"On your precious railway I should imagine. Is everything all right?"
On the very brink of an aneurysm Glinda forced a smile, teeth grinding.
Elphaba put down her book and leant forward across the bed. "What is going on? Are you unwell?"
"I will be unwell soon, have no doubt. Unwell enough to be removed from school and quietly married off to some poor unsuspecting dairy farmer."
Elphaba stood. "I think I shall fetch Nanny."
"No need. Nanny cannot help me. No-one can help me."
"Would you like to explain to me what is going on?"
"The letter you took was unfinished."
"Unfinished? It was in its envelope."
"Not unfinished, exactly. It contained an inaccuracy that I was going to amend today, before posting."
"Oh. Well, I apologise. Write to them now with your correction and I shall take it to the post for you. I will even waive the fee."
"Not so easily rectified," Glinda informed her. "You can do me a favour though and pass me down my valise from the wardrobe. I hear Quadling country is just lovely this time of year. The way the sun glints off the marshes. You spent some time in the Ovvels, would you like to show me around? On second thoughts, best you did not come. I don't suppose you know the protocol for being admitted to a mauntery? Oh, what am I saying, Nessa will know. I will ask her." Glinda stood to leave with a perplexed Elphaba floating in her wake. "My valise, if you would be so kind." She hurried from the room.
The first stop was in fact the porter's office to make sure the post had indeed left. It was long gone, and several more besides. Glinda managed to get herself admitted to look through the stack of letters herself.
"How efficient the post is now with the railroad!" she exclaimed weakly. "If a letter were sent from here yesterday is there any chance of my beating it to its destination?"
"Not if it is on the railway," the beleaguered porter answered. "Miss, you really ought to go."
Glinda left but wandered aimlessly without destination. She went around the gardens and sat on an obscured bench in a blank and distracted state. Only when the chill began to creep into her hands and feet did she realise how dark and late it had become.
Glinda slipped into her room hoping Elphaba might be out. She was not, in fact she remained in much the same position as Glinda had left her. Perhaps now with a touch of relief on her face.
"You haven't fetched down my case."
"Maunts are not permitted their own worldly goods," Elphaba said. It sounded almost like an apology. "Where have you been?"
"Nowhere."
"For six hours?"
"Has there been any message for me?"
"No. Are you expecting one?"
"Imminently." The panic had faded to a curious throbbing, the worst stomach ache, sinking down from in her throat, her lungs, to the pit of her gut.
Any minute now there would be a telegram, to her or - the panic rose again - to Morrible. Grommetik would summon her to the head's office.
There was a knock on the door. It even made Elphaba startle, the hysteria in the room so high. Glinda clutched at Elphaba's hand. "Will you come with me?"
Mystified, Elphaba looked at their hands, then up at Glinda. "Of course."
The door opened. Elphaba began an objection.
"Only me - checking you are decent -" And Nanny bustled in. "Seen my share of nubile young flesh and that was quite enough of that -"
Glinda shook. Elphaba was watching her closely. "Actually, Nanny, do you mind…"
"I do, as it happens. This is my place of work. You go elsewhere if you don't want Nanny rattling about but I am busy."
Elphaba squeezed Glinda's hand for a moment before letting go. "I'd take you to the pub except Nanny is clearly too busy to chaperone us effectively. So I am afraid the Buttery will have to do."
The Buttery, in fact, did not do at all. The chatter of the other girls was especially irritating tonight. Every time the door squeaked its way open Glinda's eyes were on it. And her crumpet was burned.
"It's because they use the cheapest flour," Glinda said.
Elphaba looked startled. "What is?"
Glinda indicated the crumpet.
"Oh, so that's not the reason behind your afternoon's absence and, frankly, alarming behaviour?"
"I am being ridiculous," Glinda freely admitted. "But then, I usually am."
"A great deal of the time," Elphaba agreed. "Are you going to tell me what is going on?"
"You will laugh."
"Good. I haven't laughed in a week."
Glinda smiled. "Do you mind if I don't? I just want to forget about it for a while." The incessant gnawing in her stomach made that unlikely, but she could try.
"If you like." Elphaba was always amenable to postponing the more emotional.
"I am going to miss you," Glinda said quietly.
"Really, now!" Elphaba was incensed again. "Just what is happening here?"
The nearest table turned to look. Once they realised who was causing the disturbance they were hardly surprised, looked down their noses, and continued their conversation.
Glinda and Elphaba watched them. Glinda felt immune to it all now. Not right now, but of late. Yet those insecurities were creeping back.
"Glinda, I insist."
She looked at Elphaba, resolved. "Give me a boost over the kitchen garden wall and I will tell you."
"Deal."
Glinda bought several rounds for Elphaba and herself along with a few new friends made as soon as she started buying several rounds - and they talked no more about the events of the afternoon.
Even staggering back to Crage Hall in the grey dawn light they made no mention. Glinda had no more of a plan than she had done when they entered the pub but she was at least drunk.
Elphaba broke her straightfaced streak and laughed when she toppled off the wall and landed askew among the turnips. Glinda tried to help her up with the end result that they were out of breath and covered in mud when they slipped in through the kitchen door. A scullery maid looked on. "I am dreadfully sorry for any inconvenience we may have caused. I shall of course reimburse Cook for the turnips," she promised.
They shuffled quietly along the halls though the sounds of first stirring could be heard. In an empty bathroom Glinda emptied her stomach of food and alcohol, allowing it to fill back up with fear and regret.
"I feel wretched," she told Elphaba.
"Little wonder," was all the sympathy she got.
At least that night she slept soundly, the panic mitigated by the not having slept in two days. Physical pains were something to concentrate on. They did not exactly take her mind off things, being as it was all connected.
While she did not immediately head off to the mauntery she did take some precautions in persuading the purser to release a little extra allowance. She went to classes in a vain attempt at normality but did no work as it seemed futile.
She did not confide in Elphaba.
Elphaba, who watched her carefully - more carefully - now. Who had been uncomprehendingly drawn into a scandal that was surely inevitably and imminently making its way down from Frottica.
Perhaps her parents were making some preparations, and that was why it was taking so long? Perhaps, oh, if only the Unnamed God were so merciful, perhaps her letter had become lost. Or merely delayed. The chance of beating it to her parents had seemed impossible. Now it looked as though it may have been worth a try.
More days passed.
Each evening Elphaba went to the steward to check for mail and returned empty handed, searching Glinda's drawn face for clues.
Until the evening she didn't.
She held the letter, recognising the script as Glinda's mother's.
"One last chance to tell me what this week has all been about."
"Depending on what that letter says."
"Are you going to open it now? Or are we back over the garden wall for another night of debauchery?"
"I'll let you know once I have read it."
"Should I go?"
"I would rather you stayed, if you don't mind?"
Elphaba nodded and sat down on her bed. Glinda sat too. A deep breath. "Actually, I think -"
She tried to get up but Elphaba seized her by the elbow. "Open it. You will feel better when it is all done."
Oh, if only, Glinda thought. But at least then she would know what was to become of her.
With shaking hands she opened the letter and scanned the preamble of the first few paragraphs.
"… and so your father's fishponds do well. As to your news, my dear, I am so very happy to hear that you have found companionship in Elphaba. Please do not worry that the romance may be a little unconventional. It may be atypical but not unheard of. You were only small at the time but did you know that your first governess left when her lady friend set up a school, and they went to teach there together?"
Glinda let the page drop. She looked up, not at anything in particular, perhaps fancying that she could see through the walls and all the hundreds of miles to her parents' house, into the parlour where her mother composed letters at the little desk, reminiscing about the inclinations of former employees.
"Well?" Elphaba prompted.
"I'm not entirely sure," she replied. Trepidation was replaced with curiosity.
"Of course it would be remiss of your father and I not to make enquiries as to the suitability of the match and to your own satisfaction with it. We propose to come to Shiz Friday week and will look forward to taking Elphaba and yourself out to dinner."
The trepidation ripped back into life.
"The thing is, Elphaba…"