A White Room by Stephanie Carroll Read Free Book Online

nearly black wood. The white and mother-of-pearl statuettes and elegant wall hangings were also lovely. I tried to go in, but John closed the door before I could. “Let us get the rest of our things.”
    “Oh. All right.”
    We walked down the hall back to the stairs.
    “Well?” John asked as we crept down the stairs. He probably expected me to join him in his ravings.
    I forced a smile. “It’s…unique.”
    “That is why I chose it.”
    “It’s just not to my tastes. I’m sure I’ll feel better once I redecorate.”
    “Redecorate?” John stopped in front of me in the middle of the stairwell.
    “Yes. Redecorate.” I felt hot and uncomfortable halted in the cramped space.
    He turned around, scrunched his face, and shook his head. “No.”
    “Pardon me?” It felt as if the walls were creeping closer.
    He folded his arms. “I don’t think you should redecorate.”
    “But why?”
    “We were lucky to find a home furnished and decorated. That is why I bought it.”
    “But it’s—it’s awful.” I regretted saying it as soon as John’s expression wilted.
    But then his features hardened into a look of stern resolve. “I am sure you will come to like it with time.” He continued down the stairs.
    I felt the weight of disappointment. Not only was John forcing me to live uncomfortably in every way, but he was also wrenching away the one thing I controlled. We had descended all the way down the stairs and entered the hallway when I finally dismissed my mother’s warnings to keep complaints to myself. “John?” I stopped next to the dining room.
    “Hmm?”
    “I don’t think I will like it with time.”
    He turned at the end of the hall and rubbed the back of his neck. “My father and Mr. Coddington went to great lengths to find a home that would require little from us, as a wedding gift. We should be grateful.”
    “I am grateful, but decorating and making a home a sanctuary is a wife’s duty. I want to create a sanctuary for you.”
    “I’m already happy,” he said. “I don’t need you to do anything. You should be thankful to get so much when you hadn’t even a dowry.”
    My muscles stiffened and my mouth fell open.
    He motioned for me. “Come on.” He disappeared around the corner, and the hall went dark except for a tiny glow reflected on the wall where he’d just stood. I remained. I wanted to resist, refuse, but I had no dowry and nothing to stand on. He had accepted me when I had nothing to offer. He did me a favor. I had no right to make demands—a slave to circumstance. I never wanted to leave that spot and face reality, but I feared the sound of him calling for me when he noticed I wasn’t behind him. I missed my family. I wanted to go home. I blinked and fanned air toward my eyes. I couldn’t be upset by this, I told myself. My mother was right. I shouldn’t have objected to him. He was right—the house was finished, and I would be grateful. I would be happy with time. I would show John my thanks. From this point on, I was going to be a perfect wife.
    I swallowed hard, forced my feet to budge, and quickly rounded the corner. “Forgive me?”
    “Of course,” he said cheerfully while swinging the front double doors open and letting in the stinging white light.

    We spent our first night in our new house silent and awkward. John had purchased a few provisions, but I needed to visit the general store. We ate dinner in silence, probably because we felt so tired from our trip. I gave up trying to start conversation after one or two questions were answered with only a single word. I wasn’t in a mood to talk, either. John would feel more inclined toward conversation tomorrow. After dinner, John stood and I collected our dishes. He picked up the snake lamp from the table and moved in his stately manner toward the door.
    “Where are you going?” I asked.
    He turned back. “To the study. I’m meeting with Mr. Coddington in the morning, and I want to be prepared.”
    “But—”