A Blue Mountain Memory

XLIV

Henry and Cora's routine for the following month maintained a steady but relaxed pace. Each morning, the couple sat down for breakfast, exchanging pleasantries then discussing their day's plans. Henry's plans often consisted of his work. Cora's consisted of nothing.

Although a married woman with her own house to run, Cora found herself sitting in Edith's drawing room most days, reading to her, or playing cards with her. Sometimes Cora even got to see Lee when he was not too busy studying.

In the evenings, Cora returned home, placing herself beside the fireplace in her own drawing room. It was quaint but poorly decorated. The large bay window looking out onto the street provided beautiful lighting– especially in the morning– but the room wholly lacked character.

Only one or two paintings ornamented the plain, eggshell wall. A couple of plants sat scattered about the room, allowing a hint of color to distract the eye from the rest of the room's dullness. The furniture, too, seemed to bore anyone whose eyes fell upon it. So, during these lonely evenings, Cora flipped through catalogs, writing down ideas to improve her home. My home, Cora thought to herself, my very own home. Not a cabin nor a room in the attic, but a real home.

Although she had been married nearly three months, Cora still struggled to comprehend her new position in the world. Despite her ongoing weariness towards Henry, Cora found herself slowly warming to the man– but only as a man, not a husband. They engaged in pleasant conversation, made each other laugh, and shared interests, ultimately providing one another with suitable company.

The vague details of Henry's past kindled Cora's reluctance to trust him. She understood that her past remained vague to him as well, but she knew herself not to be a murderer– only a victim of poor chance and selfishness. Cora, though, could not confidently say the same about Henry.

While Cora remained curious about the death of Henry's parents and his possible role in it, she found herself more curious about his patience in their marriage.

Cora admittedly knew little about men, but what she did know contradicted much of Henry's own behaviors. Her encounters with Lawson Lew and Kelly Brooks illuminated men's propensity towards ill tempers and short patience. Her encounters with Elwood and Elijah made it clear to Cora that men were often more physically motivated towards women, seeking only what they considered a holy prize. Their entitlement and inability to maintain their manners in the presence of a woman made Cora weary of the gender as a whole.

Men like Richard, Lee, Johnnie, and Wills were different, of course. Cora inherently knew they were good. She could feel it deep within her chest. But when she observed Henry, she could not locate that feeling. She only felt the pit in her stomach growing wider and darker as she contemplated him killing his parents for money.

In an alarming way, Cora understood that Henry essentially owned her. He had won her when she accepted his proposal. So, what prevented him from taking the spoils of his conquest?

Legally, he was entitled to. Societally, he was more than encouraged to. Religiously, he was obligated to. Yet the man had given Cora a wide berth in their new home, not invading her personal space– not even once. Did he not find her as beautiful as he did before they wed? Had his praises of her beauty been empty compliments? Did he now find her unbearable to touch or kiss? Perhaps he had no interest in the physical aspect of a marriage... But that option did not make sense to Cora.

She had tasted the desperation in men when she kissed Elwood and Elijah. She had felt the automatic shift in their hips as an invisible magnet seemingly pulled them towards her own. She had seen the look in Elwood's eyes when he beheld her in her most natural form, the smirk on his face, the tremble of his hands, the strength in his lips. Cora knew what desire was, but she saw no sign of it in her own husband.