A Blue Mountain Memory

XXV

Cora's first month in the Carlyle house was easy, but lonely.

Each morning she woke just before dawn and met Susan in the hallway. Although she had warmed to Susan rather fast, their only time spent together was in those early mornings as Susan dragged herself through her tasks, fighting to keep her eyes open.

Cora then went on to clean the top and bottom floor of the home. The top was simple, for she only had to clean the hallway and the water closet– a luxury she had still not grown used to.

She normally found herself isolated upstairs, mopping the floor, listening to the bustling movements below. Everyone was always busy with their own work, so they never ventured upstairs while Cora was there. Thus, she was left to her own thoughts for company—a dangerous arrangement for a girl such as herself.

In the first week, Cora found her mind wandering to thoughts that racked her body with worry. Elwood, the baby, Elijah, her late father, her poor mother back home. By the second week, Cora felt as though she would go mad trying to battle against the demons occupying her weak mind. Yet by the third she adapted.

As she scrubbed the porcelain tub or dusted the corners of the hallway, Cora simply thought of the book she had nearly memorized by now. Sometimes, she allowed her eyes to close, transforming the black abyss into the picture of a wide-open field in the moors. She would look down to see her maid's dress transformed into a pearl-colored gown, trimmed with lace and silk, fanning out all around her and sweeping against the pale grass. Sometimes she would look up to see Elwood, but all she had to do was tell him to leave, and she would be left alone once again, safe in her own company.

Her imagination, however, could not protect her from the terrors of the basement. Once she finished cleaning the top floor each day, Cora had to venture deep into the dungeons of the Carlyle home. She grabbed her equipment, took a deep breath for bravery, and scurried down the creaky stairs. Luckily, Cora had timed everything perfectly so that by the time she descended into the basement, Johnnie Bones would be out in the city and would not return for at least another hour or two.

By the third week, Cora did not feel nearly as frightened. She grew used to the damp, hot air that hovered around the lower kitchen. If anything, it reminded her of July in Lake Ren. Hot, thick, and sticky. The animal blood, too, provided Cora with a nostalgic inspiration that she longed to abandon. She wished only to move on.

Sometimes, Cora ran into Retty and Isla. She could have sworn they were twins if it were not for their eyes. Tall, stick-thin girls around her age, with raven black hair peeking out from their caps. Retty's deep brown eyes were wide, and seemingly accusatory, as if she always suspected you of some wrongdoing. Isla's hazel eyes were almond shaped and closer together, always squinting and angry.

"So, you're the new girl, huh," Isla spat, eyeing Cora up and down with her furious gaze upon their first meeting.

"Yeah, I'm Cora," Cora replied, offering a hand to shake.

Retty and Isla looked at each other and burst into laughter.

"What kind of accent is that?" Retty hissed, "Did you come straight from the Appalachian or something?"

"I'm from-" Cora began but was immediately interrupted.

"Yeah, great story," Isla interjected, "Listen, stay out of our way and we'll all be 'peaches 'n cream.' Got it?"

Cora simply nodded and watched as the pair strut away, walking in sync with one another. Cora might have been hundreds of miles away from Mount Baylin, but Retty and Isla made her feel as though she was standing in front of Birdie Call once again, taking bullets of insults and getting burned with vicious glares.