(Cross over with Around the World in Eighty Days 2021 (David Tennant version). In New York, instead of meeting Estella under the clock, Fogg meets another English lady. Don’t think too much about the timeline.)
“Aren’t you Mr Phileas Fogg? What are you doing still sitting here? The Henrietta sets sail in half an hour!”
Fogg turned to find, instead of the woman he was waiting for, sitting next to him now was another lady of at least eighty years, white-haired but with merry eyes, even if those eyes were currently looking at him in confusion.
“I don’t think I’ve had the pleasure, madam,” he said, even as his heart longed to look around, hoping against hope still that Estella would arrive any minute now. He did not wish to speak to this old lady, and the only way he could make his excuses now was if Estella showed up.
“Margaret Dashwood,” the old lady introduced herself.
“Mrs Dashwood – “
“Miss,” the lady interrupted, strong in her confirmation of her never married status.
“I do apologise, Miss Dashwood – “
“Never mind that, Mr Fogg,” the lady said impatiently. “As I believe I asked, what are you still doing here, instead aboard the Henrietta?”
“I – how do you know I am to board the Henrietta, Miss Dashwood? Indeed, how do you know my name?”
“Everyone knows your name,” she said, still impatient. “You are trying to navigate the globe in 80 days to win twenty-thousand pounds, are you not? And you are not in a hurry to catch your ship?”
“I – I am waiting for someone – “ he said, unsure why he was even sharing this with a stranger. The person he was waiting for still had not shown up.
“It must be someone important for you to risk missing your boat,” she commented. More sardonically, she added, “It must also be nice that you can be so calm when the loss of twenty-thousand pounds is at stake.”
Fogg didn’t answer.
“Mr Fogg, I sense that you are scared of something,” Miss Dashwood said when the silence stretched on between them.
“I don’t have the pleasure of understanding you, madam.”
“If you are waiting for someone to give you approval or encouragement to complete this extraordinary journey you have started out on, and are moments away from finishing, then I tell you, no one is coming to lead you onto that boat. You yourself must go on.”
Again, Fogg could not answer.
“I spent my youth in Sussex, and then Devonshire, Mr Fogg,” Miss Dashwood said, “and as the youngest daughter of a country gentleman, everyone thought they could see my life laid out before me. That was not what I wanted. So as soon as I was old enough, I started travelling, making my own way through the world. I have lost count of how many places I have been to, only that when my feet finally wearied, this city was here to receive me. But I only stopped because the longing for the horizon in my heart had been sated.”
She turned her deep blue eyes on Fogg, and asked with heart-shattering sympathy, “What about you, Mr Fogg? Are your yearnings for the horizon sated as well? Or are you here, waiting for a someone who might never come, letting that be the excuse for failure because the fear of success is becoming too much for you?”
no subject
(Cross over with Around the World in Eighty Days 2021 (David Tennant version). In New York, instead of meeting Estella under the clock, Fogg meets another English lady. Don’t think too much about the timeline.)
“Aren’t you Mr Phileas Fogg? What are you doing still sitting here? The Henrietta sets sail in half an hour!”
Fogg turned to find, instead of the woman he was waiting for, sitting next to him now was another lady of at least eighty years, white-haired but with merry eyes, even if those eyes were currently looking at him in confusion.
“I don’t think I’ve had the pleasure, madam,” he said, even as his heart longed to look around, hoping against hope still that Estella would arrive any minute now. He did not wish to speak to this old lady, and the only way he could make his excuses now was if Estella showed up.
“Margaret Dashwood,” the old lady introduced herself.
“Mrs Dashwood – “
“Miss,” the lady interrupted, strong in her confirmation of her never married status.
“I do apologise, Miss Dashwood – “
“Never mind that, Mr Fogg,” the lady said impatiently. “As I believe I asked, what are you still doing here, instead aboard the Henrietta?”
“I – how do you know I am to board the Henrietta, Miss Dashwood? Indeed, how do you know my name?”
“Everyone knows your name,” she said, still impatient. “You are trying to navigate the globe in 80 days to win twenty-thousand pounds, are you not? And you are not in a hurry to catch your ship?”
“I – I am waiting for someone – “ he said, unsure why he was even sharing this with a stranger. The person he was waiting for still had not shown up.
“It must be someone important for you to risk missing your boat,” she commented. More sardonically, she added, “It must also be nice that you can be so calm when the loss of twenty-thousand pounds is at stake.”
Fogg didn’t answer.
“Mr Fogg, I sense that you are scared of something,” Miss Dashwood said when the silence stretched on between them.
“I don’t have the pleasure of understanding you, madam.”
“If you are waiting for someone to give you approval or encouragement to complete this extraordinary journey you have started out on, and are moments away from finishing, then I tell you, no one is coming to lead you onto that boat. You yourself must go on.”
Again, Fogg could not answer.
“I spent my youth in Sussex, and then Devonshire, Mr Fogg,” Miss Dashwood said, “and as the youngest daughter of a country gentleman, everyone thought they could see my life laid out before me. That was not what I wanted. So as soon as I was old enough, I started travelling, making my own way through the world. I have lost count of how many places I have been to, only that when my feet finally wearied, this city was here to receive me. But I only stopped because the longing for the horizon in my heart had been sated.”
She turned her deep blue eyes on Fogg, and asked with heart-shattering sympathy, “What about you, Mr Fogg? Are your yearnings for the horizon sated as well? Or are you here, waiting for a someone who might never come, letting that be the excuse for failure because the fear of success is becoming too much for you?”