Amanderella Gottsnobbler and the Bangolin Tree Chapter 5

Chapter 5.

 

The Lecture.

 

Amanderella looked at her lecture notes and slides. “I need a map of the Amazon. My own maps, though accurate, are muddy, torn, and annotated with comments such as ‘avoid this bit’. I need a clean version to sketch a simplified diagram for my lecture,” she said to Mrs Gaffletter, who was polishing the brass umbrella stand, which had never held an umbrella in its life, but was cleaned as if it were made of solid gold.

Mrs Gaffletter did not look up as she said, “There is a very good Library in the High Street, Lady Gottsnobbler. I have always heard excellent things about it, though I have never felt the need to go inside myself.”

Amanderella stepped into the library’s quiet foyer, heading towards the geography shelves, when a small notice on the community board caught her eye.

Lecture Hall Available
Reasonable rates
Tea urn hire optional
Enquire at the desk

It was simple, practical, and exactly what she needed. She took the notice to the librarian, who confirmed that the hall belonged to the Society for the Advancement of Natural Curiosities, who rented it out to anyone who promised not to damage the furniture.

The Society owned a modest lecture theatre attached to its headquarters, used for talks, demonstrations, and the occasional emergency meeting about beetles. It was respectable, well maintained, and, most importantly, not far away.

Amanderella walked in, asked whether the hall was available, and paid the fee without fuss.

The clerk on duty, who had never met a woman who spoke so concisely, booked her in for the next free slot and wrote her name down. Following routine, she submitted the event to the local newspaper’s “Upcoming Talks” column.

Amanderella thought no more about it.

On the evening of the event, she arrived early. Her new clothes had been delivered precisely as promised, and she wore them with the calm assurance of a woman who had survived monsoons and Miss Hemstitcher’s tape measure. The ankle length skirt moved with dignified purpose. The jacket sat squarely on her shoulders. Her boots gleamed.

She arranged her notes on the lectern, aligned her compass with the edge of the table, and placed plates of biscuits beside the tea urn she had hired for the occasion. She believed in hospitality. She also believed that audiences listened better when they were not faint with hunger.

The doors opened. A few early attendees drifted in, murmuring politely. Then more arrived. Then more. Then a great many more.

Word had spread. “Free tea,” someone whispered. “And biscuits,” someone else added.

Within minutes the hall was full. Within ten, it was overflowing. People stood in the aisles. People stood in the doorway. People stood on tiptoe in the corridor, craning for a glimpse of the refreshments.

Amanderella regarded the crowd with mild surprise. She had expected perhaps twenty people. Thirty at most. This was a small army.

She cleared her throat. The room fell silent.

She began with the Amazon. She spoke of humidity that could flatten a hairstyle at twenty paces, of vines that behaved like opinionated snakes, of Whistling Blue Monkeys whose calls resembled badly played flutes. She demonstrated the correct method for removing a leech without losing one’s dignity. She explained how to navigate by moss, stars, and the behaviour of insects with poor tempers.

The audience listened, rapt. Occasionally someone reached for a biscuit. Occasionally someone reached for a second. The plates diminished steadily.

By the time she concluded, not a crumb remained.

The applause was enthusiastic. Several people attempted to shake her hand at once. One woman asked whether the Whistling Blue Monkeys could be trained to fetch slippers. Amanderella said they could not.

She packed her notes, straightened her hat, and left the hall with the quiet satisfaction of a woman who had done a job well, and who had not needed to remove a single gold coin from her vest to do it.

It is perhaps fortunate that neither she nor Mrs. Gaffletter read the local newspaper which reported on the lecture the following day.

From The Burkminster Gazette, Saturday Supplement

EXPLORER LADY WARNS CITY ABOUT GIANT AMAZONIAN PARROTS

By T. P. Wibberley (who was present)

“A lecture of considerable excitement took place this week at the Society for the Advancement of Natural Curiosities, where Lady Amanderella Gottsnobbler (recently returned from the Colonies) delivered an address on her travels in the ‘Amazons’, a region believed to be somewhere near Portugal.

The hall was filled to capacity, largely due to the promise of free tea and biscuits, which were consumed with such enthusiasm that several attendees missed the beginning of the talk while attempting to secure a second helping.

Lady Gottsnobbler spoke at length about the dangers of the jungle, including giant parrots capable of whistling in several keys, and a species of vine which, she claimed, “has opinions”. This reporter assumes she meant that the plant is poisonous, though she did not say so directly.

She also demonstrated a method for removing a “leech”, which appears to be a kind of tropical button or clasp that attaches itself to clothing. The audience watched with interest, though some expressed concern that such fastenings might become fashionable.

A map was shown, though it was difficult to follow, as Lady Gottsnobbler had drawn it herself and included several alarming annotations such as “avoid this bit” and “monkeys hostile”. It is unclear whether these warnings apply to Portugal as a whole or only to certain districts.

Her boots were notably shiny.

The Society confirms that no parrots escaped during the lecture, and that the furniture remains undamaged.”

in the village nearest to Gottsnobbler Hall, Mrs Thimblewick was standing in the doorway of the general store, reading the Burkminster Gazette with the slowness of a woman trying to solve a difficult puzzle. She had purchased the paper for the gardening column, but her eye had been caught, and then firmly seized, by the report on Amanderella’s lecture.

She read it twice. Then she read it aloud to Mr Pottle, who was sweeping the step. Mr Pottle listened with the expression of a man who had not asked for this information but knew resistance was futile.

“Well,” Mrs Thimblewick declared, folding the paper with a snap, “the Gottsnobblers ought to know. They won’t have seen it. They never buy a paper. Too dear, they say.”

Mr. Pottle nodded. Everyone knew the Gottsnobblers considered newspapers an unnecessary extravagance, along with new boots, fresh paint, and new clothes.

Mrs. Thimblewick set off at once, marching up the lane with the purposeful stride of a woman delivering both news and judgement.

She found Amanderella’s mother in the front garden, pruning a rose bush that had long since given up hope.

“I thought you ought to be informed,” Mrs Thimblewick said, producing the newspaper clipping like evidence in a trial. “Your daughter has been giving lectures. In the city.”

Amanderella’s mother  blinked. “Lectures?”

“On the Amazons,” Mrs Thimblewick said. “With tea and biscuits. A roaring success, according to the paper.”

Amanderella’s mother pressed a hand to her forehead. “Tea and biscuits? In the city? She will exhaust herself.”

Mrs Thimblewick nodded gravely. “And there were parrots. Very large ones, apparently.”

Amanderella’s mother swayed slightly. “Oh dear.”

“And vines with opinions,” Mrs Thimblewick added, because she felt the full picture ought to be presented.

Amanderella’s mother sat down abruptly on the nearest garden chair. “She has only just returned,” she murmured. “And already she is overdoing it.”

Mrs Thimblewick patted her arm with the air of someone who had done her civic duty. “At least she looked respectable. The paper says her boots were very shiny.”

Amanderella’s mother  closed her eyes. “That is something, I suppose.”

And thus, the news of Amanderella’s triumphant lecture reached Gottsnobbler Hall, through the village gossip, which travelled faster than any train, and never failed to deliver information, whether wanted or not.