A Blue Mountain Memory

XXXIV

Henry's presence in the house put Cora on edge.

He spent most of his time at a small desk in the drawing room, looking over papers, writing notes, or reading from one of his medical books. Meanwhile, Edith sat in her chair, glancing over to her nephew every few minutes just to make sure he was still there.

Cora, on the other hand, avoided looking at Henry.

When all three sat in the drawing room, Cora kept to herself, burying her face in a novel, or appearing focused on her embroidery. Though, when curiosity occasionally tempted her eyes to wander over to the mysterious man, Cora sometimes directly met his gaze. His eyes would immediately dart away, leaving Cora to feel violated– as though he had been observing her for some time.

When the two met each other in the hall, neither said a word. Instead, they both watched the floor as they brushed past one another. Cora would hold her breath, wishing her body could simply disappear from his perception.

Henry only addressed Cora occasionally. Often in the presence of his aunt, the man would ask simple questions– ones which concerned the present discussion, as though he was addressing Cora just to be polite.

"Miss Davis," he would say in his deep, tired voice, "what have been your thoughts on the South's efforts of reconstructing their economy in the last few decades?"

Edith had been discussing economic policies with him, and having briefly mentioned the South, Henry must have found it necessary to address Cora on the matter. Though, Cora held suspicions towards his motives. Surely, he did not expect an impoverished young girl to understand the system that had kept her family poor. She knew that he was testing her, but she could not conclude why.

"All I know, sir, is that farmers continue suffering and the North offers no help."

Cora felt herself smile. Short, sweet, and honest. She did not want to grant him the pleasure of making her flustered, appearing unintelligent and ignorant.

Cora's eyes directly met Henry's. Although they appeared warm and inviting, she knew there must have been something cunning and calculating behind them. He remained still in his chair, simply staring back, offering no response to her answer.

"Well, said child," Edith chimed in. "But, do please refer to him as Henry, dear. He is not your superior," the old woman laughed.

"Am I not?" Henry asked earnestly.

Cora watched him. His face remained unchanged with his inquiry, yet his eyes appeared to stare deeper into Cora's soul. She found herself angered by his question. She could hardly believe someone related to Edith would have the audacity.

Cora felt her breathing getting harder to control with each passing second. Her shoulders tensed as she focused on the movements of her chest. She did not want him to observe her discomfort.

"Of course not, dear boy!" Edith said unapprovingly. "I hardly consider myself the girl's superior. She is far more a relative than an employee," Edith reached over her chair and lightly patted Cora's hand.

Cora's anger immediately washed away as a warm, loving sensation tingled through her body. Edith had never referred to her in such a caring way, but Cora sensed truth behind the old woman's statement.

The pair had grown even closer in the last few months, and Cora did indeed feel like Edith's daughter most of the time. Occasionally, when Cora found herself in the reverie of the old woman's company, she thought of her own mother back in Mount Baylin. At one point in Cora's life, her mother was the most important woman to her. But after everything that happened, she needed someone who would support her– someone who could support her. She and Lee had yet to hear from their mother, which was truly a blow. Although she could not speak, surely, she was still able to write.