Aftermath

Cora spent the carriage ride home sobbing in Mother's arms, just like she'd done when Harold was a year old and had yanked on her pigtails until her hair almost separated from her head. How could she have believed that man so easily? How could he every touch and every look have been so fake? How could her heart still be beating in her chest when it is so shattered?

Fresh tears fell on Mother's dress again as she pictured the expression on Samson's face when they had danced last weekend. Mother handed Cora her handkerchief to blow her nose since Cora's was clearly soaked.

"Cora, we are home," Mother said suddenly into her ear, and Cora's watery eyes saw their townhouse through the carriage window. Could their driver have flown home, as she hadn't cried nearly long enough.

"What's wrong Miss Levinson?" said Jenny as they arrived home, to see Cora's red face.

"I…" she said trying to find a way to explain this impossible situation.

"Go into the washroom and clean up a bit, Cora," Mother said, immediately taking charge as usual. "We would like a bit of tea in the drawing room, Jenny."

"Yes, ma'am." Jenny said, disappearing while Cora went into the washroom, as if she were Mother's puppet. Just last week she had been excited to be grown-up enough to make her own decisions, but now it was clear Cora made terrible ones.

She'd better do everything her mother said.

OOOOOOOOOO

"I'm so sorry, Mother" Cora said several moments later as she sipped her tea. The blend was more comforting than she'd expected and drinking it allowed her to speak without sobbing. Perhaps she didn't need to behave like a five-year-old, balling on her mother's lap, after all. "I should have never accepted his proposal. You tried to warn me, but I wouldn't listen." From the early days, Mother had wondered if Frank Samson "was too much of a flatterer." And then there were her suspicions that he wasn't courting, much less proposed, in a proper manner.

All it took was a stroke of his hand or a kiss from his lips for Cora to agree to almost anything. And the worst part about it was that even now, a part of her wanted him to press his lips against hers again and feel the resulting explosion. How could she want to kiss that snake after everything he'd said this afternoon?

The drawing room appeared blurry as Cora's anger at herself grew. She tried to drink more tea, but it didn't work.

"I admit I was a bit suspicious of him, but even I never suspected Samson would do something so underhanded as try to convince you to steal from your Poppa," Mother said with a sigh, but her voice was bitter. "He obviously knew exactly what he was doing to fool all of us. I wish I had never let him in this house." Her teacup smashed into the end table in a way Cora hopped didn't break the porcelain.

"It's not your fault, Mother," Cora said, more tears running down her face. "I'm the one who," she sniffed. "Accepted his proposal. I'm the one who convinced Poppa to give us his blessing." She remembered his love and pride she had of her father that morning, and she felt sick once again at what Samson had wanted her to do.

She couldn't tell if she had more rage toward herself or Frank. But either way, it made her cry again. She'd never thought anger could cause tears until today. At least this time she didn't sob in Mother's lap, like a five-year-old.

OOOOOOOOOO

By dinnertime, Cora had managed to keep her eyes dry. But even after washing as Mother told her, Cora knew her eyes still looked ugly. Harold would tease her about it.

"Hi, Cora," her brother said with that stupid mischievous grin. "You look like a raccoon." He sat down at the dining table, and she fantasied about burying her head in Mother's chest again, or running upstairs, rather than dealing with Harold on top of everything else. "Mother, why is she allowed to sit in your perfect dining room with racoon eyes?"

He rolled his own eyes, as if that was unreasonable. Cora swallowed some wine, so not to cry again.

"Harold, your sister has had a difficult day," Mother said sharply. "Leave her alone."

As always, Harold found what Mother told him not to do irresistible. "What did you do, Cora?"

The safety of her bedroom was just upstairs. Would Mother fault her for leaving? "I ended my engagement to Frank," she said, bitter with anger. "He was only pretending to be interested in me for Poppa's money." She prepared to leave, but to her surprise, Harold didn't laugh.

"I always said he was a dud, but I never expected him to be that foolish," her brother said. "Good thing you got rid of him."

Just then, Jenny arrived with plates full of juicy steak and Cora decided she could wait a bit.

"I know I always have the last piece of pie, but you can have it tonight, Cora," Harold said when they were halfway done with the main meal. His eyes focused directly on her.

Cora almost dropped her wine goblet. When was the last time Harold had done something that selfless? Her brother always had the last piece of pie, claiming he was growing and needed as much food as possible.

"Thank you." Her heart warmed a bit, despite her heartbreak. Mother and even Harold were trying, even though Cora didn't feel she could ever recover from this.

OOOOOOOOOO

The next few days seemed to blur, especially as Cora spent so much time crying in her bedroom, wondering why she'd ever accepted Frank Samson's proposal. Sometimes she'd pick up her special porcelain doll, as if it had the same answers, it had when she was struggling whether to elope with Samson. Other times she lay on her canopy bed as the agony in her heart overwhelmed her. Then there were the times where she almost punched the stuffing out of her pillow, as her rage filled her anew.

Mother kept giving her an extra hug after meals, and Harold continued to offer Cora his dessert, but their effort didn't help as much as either of them thought it did.

Until the evening Poppa came home for dinner instead of staying late at work. "Happy seventeenth birthday, Cora," he said, giving her a hug before sliding into his seat at the table.

Cora nodded, distantly. How could she have forgotten her own birthday? Had she truly been that focused on her heartbreak that she'd forgotten a date she looked forward to all year?

"I thought Frank would be joining us today," Poppa said, his eyes on an empty chair used for guests.

"Frank is worse than a sewer rat," Harold said with an unusual straight face.

"Now Harold, that's not a nice thing to say, especially on our Cora's birthday," Poppa said, and Cora's widened in horror that her father thought to defend the man that wanted to steal from him. She had to tell him, but Jenny brought in the wine first.

"The dining table is unusually quiet," Poppa said several moments later, when Jenny brought in the main course. Cora sighed, supposing that was true. Mother and Harold hadn't spent dinner arguing over some prank Harold had pulled since Cora had broken her engagement. She hadn't noticed until now, having been so caught up in her heartbreak.

Shame filled her stomach, and the roast looked unappetizing. Cora had never been one to focus only on herself.

"Shouldn't we have more to say on our girl's birthday? Are you going on another outing in central park soon?" He had no idea how his words shattered her already broken heart. She blinked back tears.

"Well, Isidore, actually we have a situation," Mother said, breaking the silence after taking a drink of wine.

"No, Mother," Cora said, taking a deep breath. "This my fault. I've ended my engagement to Frank Samson, Poppa. He wasn't a good man, just as Mother tried to warn me. He tried to convince me to steal from you." She sighed with relief that she'd gotten through saying that clearly. When she'd tried to tell Mother, she'd ended up sobbing in the middle, before she'd dissolved into tears completely.

Perhaps she was recovering, after all.

"He what?" Poppa said, lowly and dangerously. When Mother and Harold grew angry, they became loud. When Poppa grew angry, he grew even quieter and more still than normal. When Poppa hadn't moved a muscle in five minutes, they all knew he was livid.

"Well, he no longer has a job at my factory," he said when he finally moved his lips, but his voice still much slower than normal.

And Cora was shocked at how disappointed she suddenly was at that. She'd never have the chance to see Frank again at one of Mother's parties or visit him at the factory or…why would she ever wish to see him again anyway? She had wanted nothing more than for Frank to fall off Earth for the past few days. And yet now she longed to see his melt-worthy grin or share another dance with him?

Cora hadn't recovered at all. In fact, she dabbed her eyes with her napkin while Poppa outlined a plan to prevent Frank Samson from working anywhere in New York City.

She'd barely touched her roast when Jenny took away their dinner plates. Even worse was when Jenny brought out a large, round cake with vanilla frosting. "Happy birthday, Cora!" Everyone said as if the words would suddenly put her in a good mood.

Cora forced herself to smile as Jenny cut her a piece of cake. Her family were all trying to help her, after all. "Thank you."

As they ate their cake, Poppa pulled a long jewelry box out of his pocket. "I almost forgot; I got this for your birthday." Cora opened the box, trying to still grin a bit, and saw a beautiful silver necklace with diamond bells dangling at the center. "I was thinking…wedding bells," Poppa's voice was slow again, showing his anger. "Foolish idea, I know now."

"No, Poppa," Cora said. "You've just given me a beautiful necklace because you thought I was engaged. I am the foolish one for thinking marrying Samson was a good idea." She couldn't manage to smile at that last sentence. Cora would give anything to back in time and say "no" to Frank Samson.

"Speaking of that Isidore," Mother said with a sigh as she swallowed another bite of cake. "We need to decide what to do about Cora's prospects soon. I haven't been out much in the past couple of days, but I know gossip will buzz soon enough about her broken engagement, especially considering we've had an engagement party."

"Mother, I'm sorry," Cora said, wishing again she could have done things differently.

Mother shook her head. "It's not just your fault, you are young and far too naïve, but I should have seen through him. But now we need to decide what to do next." She directed the last sentence to Poppa.

"You're worrying too much, Mother," Harold said anyway. "Frank was a horrible man but gossip never lasts. Sooner or later some other idiot will do something worse, and New York City will focus on that." Then he stuffed his face with a large mouthful of cake.

"Harold, you have to learn to think more," Mother said in the same exasperated voice she used on him constantly. "It's true that New York society is always finding something and someone new to talk about, but your sister will never find another match, society or not, in New York now that she'd ended her first engagement."

Cora opened her mouth to say she didn't wish for another match. But the words wouldn't quite form.

Meanwhile Poppa looked at Mother and said, "We could take her to another city, where she could find someone new. Boston, perhaps, or Chicago."

Mother immediately shook her head. "There are too many Bostonians who know New Yorkers, especially with how many of us have cottages in the Massachusetts area. And Chicago?" She wrinkled her nose in disgust. "There are no society people there."

Poppa sighed. "Martha we've been through this; Cora doesn't care about marrying a society man."

"You mean she thought she didn't." Mother's voice grew louder as her anger grew obvious. "And look how well that has turned out." She sighed. "But I suppose taking her out of New York is a good idea. I've heard some newly rich families are taking their daughters to Europe to find husbands. Great Britain is apparently particularly interested in wealthy heiresses."

Cora stayed silent as they discussed her future. Distantly, she wondered if she should be angry, but none of this mattered to her in the face of her heartbreak. She nibbled on her cake, wondering why it tasted like sand.

Poppa took several bites of cake before he said, "I hate to have her marry so far away, but it might be prudent to give her prospective husband money in advance. If we know she's going to attract men who are interested in my money, we can play into that."

Martha nodded. "We'd best put her name in soon, though. From what I've heard you have to petition a young lady's name before she can be presented in London. The 1887 season should be over by now, so we could try for the 1888 season."

Poppa sighed again. "I suppose so." He finished his cake.

A part of Cora admired the way they made decisions for their family. They may not be in love anymore, but they adored their family and worked together towards fixing problems. Neither Mother nor Poppa would consider manipulating the other the way Frank had done to her with his touches and kisses.

Hadn't she already decided to follow Mother's decisions, considering Cora made terrible ones? "All right. I will go to London next year."

OOOOOOOOOO

Mother diligently planned their trip to London for the next couple of months and boasted for days when Cora had been accepted by the committee to be presented to Queen Victoria next year. Cora, meanwhile, seemed to have lost all her joy since realizing what a snake Frank was. At least she no longer cried or daydreamed about the man's kisses or longed to visit him at the factory as fall approached.

Emma Crawford dropped by for tea one afternoon, after returning from vacationing on the Vanderbilts yacht. "It's good to see you, Cora," she said with her typical bright smile as she sat down in the drawing room. Her light blue dress almost bounced at her shoulders as she sat.

"It's good to see you, too, Emma," Cora said honestly, as she appreciated seeing her bubbly friend. But she struggled to smile. "Did you meet any suitors on your trip?" An image of Emma dining and dancing with foreigners appeared in Cora's mind, and although she was no longer certain love was real, the idea was surprisingly pleasing. She hoped her friend could find a much better match than Frank Samson.

Emma shrugged. "There were some nice men I spent time with, but no formal courtship was established. My parents were disappointed." She sighed and lowered her voice. "But what about your suitor, Cora? I've heard the most outrageous rumors since we've returned to New York. That Frank threw you over for another woman. That he decided you were…damaged. That you eloped with a stranger. That your father decided Frank wasn't good enough for his daughter. That the New York City churches refused to marry any Levinson, so your engagement is cancelled. What happened?"

Cora didn't answer for several moments, overwhelmed by the rumors, some more silly than others. It felt almost as if Mother were speaking through Emma's mouth, reminding Cora of the consequences of her foolishness, although these days, her mother seemed too excited about their upcoming trip to London to care about New York City gossip.

Yet as Cora could almost see Mother's red hair peeking through the doorway, it was clear that she still cared about such news.

"I made a huge mistake, Emma," Cora said, shaking her head. "I should never have accepted Frank Samson's proposal. He was pretending to be interested in me so he could use me to steal from Poppa." Although the words no longer made her cry, she felt her face redden at her foolish behavior toward that man.

"Oh, Cora," Emma said, immediately standing up to embrace her briefly. "That's worse than all the rumors combined! What a horrible man. I'm glad you got rid of him."

Cora and Emma immediately released each other and sat back down as Jenny came in with tea.

"I suppose I should be glad that I got rid of him before we were married," Cora said as she mixed sugar in her tea. How much worse could it have been if Samson had revealed his plans to her after their wedding? "But I hate how easy he allowed me to agree with everything he said."

A flash of his words, touches, and kisses entered her mind again and she shook her head. "A touch…or…anything," Cora refused to tell Emm how often Frank had kissed her, now understanding why kissing before a couple was engaged was so discouraged. "Was all he needed…."You should wear red dresses, Cora." "You must accept my proposal, because my opinion is more important than your parents." She sipped her tea, hoping the comfort of the warm drink would envelope her, but Cora still felt more foolish than ever.

Suddenly she was fueled by a desire to burn all her red dresses. Why had she kept them for so long, anyway?

"Mother has decided to take me to next year's London season to find a match," Cora said, finally, still having better faith in her mother's ideas than in her own. "The idea is to provide a dowery in exchange for a title, so we know in advance they're interested in our money. She's actually becoming very excited about it." Mother's red hair disappeared from the doorway, apparently satisfied with Cora's explanation for what has happened to their family.

Nodding, Emma sipped her own tea. "Aunt Alva will be much more interested in you finding a match in Europe than your previous one. And I can tell you that many foreign men are rather interesting, with their cultures and accents. Almost like princes." Emma's eyes and smile turned dreamy, and Cora knew she was remembering the different men she'd encountered sailing to Europe on their family yacht.

Handsome princes riding on couches danced through Cora's mind for a moment before she shook her head. "There was a time I thought Frank Samson was almost like a prince, Emma, but now I know he was anything but. How can I believe man who touches me doesn't have ulterior motives? Is love possible?"

She couldn't say so, but knowing her parents no longer loved each other made Cora wonder if she could believe in love just as much as what had happened with Frank.

"No, Cora, don't think like that," Emma said firmly, putting down her tea to stare her friend in the eye. "Love is what makes life worthwhile. I know my parents are still in love with each other, and I have no doubt we'll find that as well."

Cora hoped so, but the more she thought about it, the more she decided it was time to get remove all her red dresses from her closet and even this house. Surely not all her ideas were bad, if it meant removing Frank Samson's influence from her life?