False Southern Gentility

Christine married Mr. James Henry in a whirl-wind afternoon, two months after being 'terribly ill and on the brink of death", she was up, ordering a servant down from the small room that she now shared with her intolerable husband.

An almost silent knock at the door; Christine rolled her eyes. "Come in." she said, venom dripping from her words.

The door creaked open and James entered slowly. "Your...your hair is very becoming like that." he said as he walked up behind her and stroked the silky coil lightly; Christine tried to look pleased.

"Do you like it? I just couldn't get that silly little girl to pull them tight enough, but I think they look appealing, don't you?" she asked as she ran her hand over her chin and then dug in her small jewelry box for her diamond ear-trinkets.

"What...what are you...you doing?" James managed to squeeze out his question amidst the sputtering as he walked to the other side of the room, looking through the dresser-drawers that held Christine's night clothes and other things she didn't want to keep in the closet.

Christine ignored him as she lifted small diamonds into her ears. "What?" she asked over her shoulder as she stood and smoothed out her skirts with a light hand.

"Hm?" he asked quietly as he turned around and looked at her, his hand clenched around a small picture of her brother-in-law, Gabriel Luke, grasped behind his back in the same quiet way that racked through Christine's nerves.

"Why in God's name are you going through my things? Are those any of your business? Now if you don't mind!" she exclaimed as she tromped across the room, and slammed the drawer shut.

James shook his head nervously as he slid the picture back through the small crease that she had left open. "Are...are you ready?" he asked as pulled open their bedroom door for her.

Christine's eyes lost the queer glimmer of a foreseen battle.

"Yes, quite." she said as she raised her head high, a sweet smile on her face; she stopped and turned back to her husband. "I didn't mean to snip, darling." she said as she stood atop her toes and kissed his cheek; James blushed.

She tried very hard to be polite and loving to her husband. James couldn't help the way he was, it was exactly that. Who he was. She did not regret marrying him, for their plantation had been saved and kept out of the grasps of the Yankees.

But the nights that she spent with him. Christine bit into her lip as she rolled her eyes. He was such an intolerable lover. He wasn't even a lover, per-say, he was more of...of a...well Christine wasn't sure what in the Hell he was when it came to that.

His demeanor never changed. Quiet and still. Quiet and tired. Quiet and steady. He would not argue with her as Christopher and Peter had done, the two of them were so infuriating that they had entertained her. James was a different matter entirely.

"Yes...well...I do understand..." he said as he helped her down the staircase and talked nothing but his boring old law-firm. The same thing that bore Christine to tears everyday, until one specific word hit her ears.

Money.

She turned her head sharply to him, swallowing everything that he said. There was a client that had done some bad dealings with a few of the wrong people, he was looking to sell, and quickly.

"Do you remember his name?" she asked in a tone none to nice for a supposed young lady and new wife. She made a quick note to be extra nice to James later and then brushed off the tone her voice carried.

Many of the 'notes' that she made herself always seemed to find their way into her mental furnace.

James looked over slowly, "Oh no, I didn't catch it--why?" he asked as he lifted her hand over the tall banister of Meredith staircase.

"You know James, you can be so incompetent!" Christine yelled as the large black servant man opened the front door, exposing the tall and lean Christopher Rudd, standing there in all his dark glory.

Christopher chuckled to himself as he walked into the house and bowed before Christine. Her eyes went wide at the sight of him, standing there in-front of her, his eyes laughing, how she hated him!

"Mrs. Henry." he said as he leaned over her hand and kissed the top of it gently. Christine snatched her hand back as if her skin had been burned from the mere touch of him. He laughed again, a coy, slick smile spreading over his face, "I've brought you a little wedding gift. I'm sorry Mr. Henry, it is more for your wife than it is for you." he said with his most dashing smile.

James cocked his head to one side, "Wha--what is it?" he asked as he looked at the square shape wrapped in a light pink satin woven cloth, tied evenly with a deep red ribbon.

"Oh, just a novel for her, I picked it up from a very good friend of mine." he said with a laugh as he took Christine by the elbow pulled her lightly into the small study and slid the doors closed behind them with a smile towards James that, for some reason, calmed James' nerves.

Christine stared out the window from the other side of the room. "What do you want? Have you come to prowl on the small break that I had before this?" she asked in an almost spiteful tone.

"Oh, lets leave all that alone now. Why should we worry about such things? Here, open your gift from me." he said as he flashed the small square package before her eyes. Christine's face sparkled as she took the package and leaped onto the small high-back settee.

Christine laughed as she pulled the dark ribbon from it's bow and flung it to the floor as she lifted the corners of the fabric. "It's a book." she said as she touched the corner, looking at the small gold writing on the spine.

"Yes, a lovely little novel for you. I thought you might like being able to...get away for a while, go somewhere that you would rather be, somewhere that isn't here, something that isn't your life for a day." he said with a laugh.

Christine nodded as she pulled the pages apart, touching them gingerly as if they were her only way to leave herself. "What's it about?" she asked quietly.

"I believe it's about a woman, very strong, very noble and wise," he smiled at her, "I've read through it, and she seems a lot like you, she's willing to do everything and anything for her family and what she believes in, like you." he said with a smile as he opened his large carpet bag at his side.

"Here," he said as he withdrew a large red velvet satin, draped exquisitely over it's self a few times.

"Oh, Christopher, it must have cost a fortune, all of those lovely colors, or just this one color, how lovely it is." she exclaimed as she touched the fabric easily and then smiled at him, "How sweet you are, thinking of me." she said as she sat down the novel and busied herself with the cloth.

"Yes, well, I thought that you might like it, or I hoped that you might like it, but then again, I have never been very good at figuring out what a woman needed or wanted, I have always given what I thought should be given. You're lucky I didn't come back with lace pantaloons." he said as he shrugged off her sweet remarks.

Her face turned red as she continued to look over her cloth.

Christine looked back over at the novel, "A Woman's Choice," she said aloud, "what choice? We're women, we haven't a choice?" and with that, her smile fell away.

Christopher observed her face, the smooth edges that were her cheeks, the sound ovals that were her eyes, and the ivory skin that held it all, she was beautifully intoxicating.

Intoxicating...that was how he saw her...and all she saw was her own misery.

"Do you love him?" Christopher asked suddenly; the walls of her smile had fallen and the old walls came up.

"What would you mean by that? Love who?" she asked as her temper flared up again, and she threw the book back onto the top of it's wrappings.

"Your husband. I'm quite sure that you don't." Christopher watched her face harden, her eyes returning to the same angry featureless being she had been before.

"That's none of your business, and I'm sure you know it!" Christine exclaimed as she leaped to her feet and marched across the room to the tall windows that now sat quietly, solemnly.

"Of course I know it's none of my business, but I want to hear you admit it, hear you say those words." He said as he stalked across the room and jerked her around by her shoulder, forcing her to face him, to look him in the eye.

"Leave me alone!" she cried as his hand flew over her mouth to silence her cries.

"Don't you tell me to leave you alone, don't!" He whispered in a harsh raspy voice, his breath was warm on her face; Christine melted in his arms.

She looked up at him, seeing his dark black eyes, following her eyes, the rugged curve of his lips, the slight tan of his skin; his hand dropped away.

"Do you love him? I'll ask you again, do you love him?" Christopher bore holes into her face; Christine glared back at him, ignoring the strange feelings she had had a moment before.

"No. There, I don't love him, why should I have to? There are plenty of women that don't love their husbands, and even more men than don't love their wives. Why should I have to be any different?" she asked as she jerked herself out of his grasp and leaned luxuriously on the window frame.

"The difference between them is that they don't say it out-loud, but you, my sweet insolent child, haven't the decency to even lie about it." he didn't say it with anger, nor resentment, nothing but this small creeping sound that made her a tad-bit uneasy.

"Well why should I lie? They may like lying, but I don't see why my truthfulness surprises them all! I see these women happily bearing children, smiling as they walk with their husbands and families, but I know that I will never be able to achieve that, but then again, I don't really want to." she shrugged as she pulled the satin lace from underneath the book and tied it neatly into a bow.

"Wouldn't this just make the most wondrous little bow for the bottom of a bustle?" Christine asked as she sat it at the bottom of her skirt in the back, and then raised it up to right atop her rump, "Not enough if you ask me."

"Have your folly with the blasted lace, I'm leaving, have a nice day, MRS. Henry." and with that, he stormed out of the house, leaving behind a startled James and a fuming Christine standing in her parlor, staring at her new book.