The idea of travel both terrified and excited her. She would never have done
it without Christopher. He makes me bigger and braver than I am. He's a creature I never expected to find… a good man.
“'Porphyria's Lover,'” Lord Gelroy announced, retrieving the folio and
leaning against the wall near the fireplace .
I do not want to listen to this poem. It's too visceral, too graphic, and nonumber of re-readings has softened the blow. When Colin started to recite, she turned her attention to the hand she was holding.
Christopher might be the cotton mill's part-owner, but that hasn't stoppedhim from working with his hands. He has the strength of a laborer, the mind of
an engineer and the body of a god. He's glorious. How could he be for me, for
timid Katerina? It makes no sense. A reward this great must surely be for some
colossal act of good, but I've done nothing, not one thing in my life to helpothers. I've been too isolated for that, living in self-centered terror.
She thought back over their marriage. It had only been a short time, but already she was learning him. She knew what he liked to eat for breakfast, and
which newspaper he preferred to read, and that he would rather drink coffee than
tea, and she knew his touch. Ah, it's lovely, in his arms, in his bed. As he had promised, the more they came together, the better it felt. He offered affection with the sex, and she took it greedily, never having realized a touch could heal
and please, not merely harm and frighten.
She stroked his fingers, feeling calluses from both work and writing and
scars from the wild things children did, like the time he had chased a bird and actually caught it. The beak mark would remain in his palm for life. Those were
good scars, the marks of living a full and interesting life.
She too was permanently marred, but not with the marks of living. She bore
the scars of the half-life of slaves and criminals. Fiercely, she reminded herself,
An unsmooth back is hardly the most horrible disfigurement a woman canendure. Vanity serves no purpose. Let it go. No one knows how bad I look there
except my husband, and if there's a silver lining, it's that the sight of thosewounds spurred him to marry me.
Would I trade my husband for smooth skin? No, I would not. Marriage was better, so much better. Every day was subtly better than the one before. Already
she cried less, laughed more, not because she was trying to force herself, but because it just felt right to do so.
A sweet smile broke over her face. I'm getting closer to understanding safe
and even happy. Tonight, I will ask my husband to make me feel those goodfeelings again. I know he will be agreeable. Her body tingled at the thought.
Colin finished the poem and tossed aside the folio as if in disgust of his own
recitation, and the discussion broke out almost instantly, voices overlapping in such dizzying disarray she could not distinguish one speaker from another.
“What a dreadful thing.”
“Is this a poem or a women's liberation propaganda piece?”
“Are you sure Robert wrote that and not his wife? It sounds like a woman's
writing.”
“Not really. No woman would write something so inelegant.”
“I think it's horrible. I don't want to think about things like that.”
Katerina, against her will, found her voice speaking into the din. “How
convenient to be able not to think about it. Those who endure it do not have that
option. The Duchess of Ferrara is fictional, and so is Porphyria, but real women
and children are treated with violence in our city every day. Mr. Browning wants
us to be aware, so we can help, be good Samaritans, not cross the road like the
Pharisees.”
The room fell silent at her unexpected comment.
“But, Mrs. Bennett, how can we help? The law says a man has a right to discipline his wife,” Reardon demanded in a gentle, not sarcastic, tone.
