By The Pricking Of My Thumbs

VC: "By The Pricking Of My Thumbs"
Janeway216 — 28 Aug 1999, 10:57 PM

Another chapter in the Miss St. Claire story, and still subject to the "Tempus non fugit" syndrome (Forgive me for the mauling, but my Latin is bad.) I'll work on making the story move forward, I promise.

Officially, nobody knew how the story of Marsh Tuvok's encounter with Marguerite St. Claire became general knowledge. However, everybody knew that it was because a) Marsh Tuvok had told Miss Kathryn, who told Chakotay, who told B'Elanna, who told Annie, who told the Doc the next time she was in town, and the Doc told everyone he saw, and b) because Deputy Neelix told everyone he saw.

More rumors sprang up about Marguerite. It couldn't be helped: when you had a mysterious stranger who closeted herself in a hotel room and never came out for anything, people started to wonder, and speculation became fact, baited around the town. Anything she did became instant gossip, down to the fact that she went to the Nemesis for breakfast and had toast.

And the town gossips were given even more to yak about on the day that Miss Marguerite St. Claire finally emerged from her hotel room. What Miss Marguerite did was not so unusual; it was simply the fact that people got a good look at her that fueled the fires of speculation.

When Miss Marguerite did come out of her room, she was arrayed in navy blue silk and wearing the little black glasses that everyone had heard about. Her errands were simple. She went to Garak's Millinery and Hosiery and bought a pair of leather gloves, and then went to Larson's Buggy Rental and Chauffeur Service and borrowed Sacajawea for a period of time.

At least, in theory her errands were simple. But in reality, they were much more than that, and they were Marguerite's first steps to being able to tell the truth.

Marguerite's day began early. She put on her navy blue dress, and double-checked her hair in the mirror. Had to look good. Couldn't stand to have people calling her names because she looked bad.

Her first stop was Garak's Millinery and Hosiery, and during the entirety of the short walk she could feel eyes on her. Okay, so maybe the glasses were overkill. But she really did need them; she'd been telling the truth when she said the fever ruined her eyesight.

As she entered the door, a bell rang. A man looked up from a book and looked her over. "Size two," he said.

"Close," Marguerite acknowleged. "Four. But I'm not here for a dress."

"Oh?" the man asked.

"I need a pair of gloves," Marguerite said.

"Oh," the man said. He began pulling gloves out of a display counter.

Marguerite stopped him. "No, no," she said. "These are all lovely, but I need leather gloves. Work gloves."

The man sighed. "What would a pretty lady like you need leather gloves for?" he asked, but he produced a pair of mens' work gloves.

Marguerite accepted them. "So my hands don't get all dirty while I work," she said.

"Why-ever would a pretty girl like you need to work?" the man asked.

"For what-ever reason I please," Marguerite said. "And I'm not going to tell you what my reason is, because you'll blab it to everyone you know."

"Touche, young lady," the man smiled at her. "And the gloves will be a dollar-sixty- cents."

Marguerite frowned. "I didn't come out here with a suitcase full of money," she grumbled.

"Some people think you did."

"Some people think I'm working at Provencal. That's just as false. Never believe what other people say."

"I didn't say I believed them."

"You didn't say you didn't believe them, either," Marguerite said reproachfully.

"Touche, again," the man said, "and you'd best leave before I end up full of holes."

"Too late for that," Marguerite said, "as there's already seven in your head, at least." And with that, she swept out in a rustle of navy silk.

VC: "By The Pricking Of My Thumbs" part 2
Janeway216 — 28 Aug 1999, 11:02 PM

Her next stop was Larson's Buggy Rental and Chauffeur Service, a glorified livery stable. Marguerite entered cautiously, not spying anyone who could help her, but soon someone popped up to meet her.

"Yas'm, can I help you?" the creature said.

"I, ah, need to borrow a horse," Marguerite requested.

"Ah, so you need to borrow a hoss," the man echoed. "What kinda hoss?"

"One that can tolerate someone who's hardly ever ridden before," Marguerite laughed self-deprecatingly.

"Ah, then you'd need Sacajawea," the man said. "Right over here. Got the absolute sweetest temper you ever saw, and don't give a flip about who's riding her."

Marguerite surveyed the strawberry roan mare. "I guess she'll do. Can you have her ready for me here tomorrow?"

"I can have her tomorrow," the man said, "and the next day and the next. Dollar a day ought to do her."

"Thank you," Marguerite said, and then departed hastily, scurrying back to the sanctum of her hotel room. Tomorrow was her big day. Tomorrow was the day everything was going to be set into motion.

tbc sometime