Tuesday, February 12, 1884
WÜRTTEMBERG’S FRAUGHT HISTORY FUELS NATION’S CURRENT TURMOIL
Calvin Archer, New York Office
In order to understand the escalating homeland conflict within the Germanic nation of Württemberg, one need only consider the polity’s complicated past, say sources close to the crown. Württemberg’s history of exploitation by its more powerful neighbors has created a culture of wariness concerning future military or economic alliances, as well as ignited the current growing nationalist movement to protect Württemberg’s resources.
Consider the polity’s historic relations with Prussia, the decisive Battle of Tauberbischofsheim...
Chapter 13
A Stroll Down Memory Lane
Cora tightens the collar of her borrowed coat, a beautiful yellow wool with wide, fur-lined sleeves and a matching stole. The wind has kicked up to an almost comical degree, an audiblewhooshsending dead leaves whipping across her high-heeled boots.
“Still keen to press onward?” Harry says, teeth chattering. “A fascinating reflex, shivering, is it not? Tiny contractions meant to manufacture the sensation of warmth.”
Cora resists the urge to roll her eyes, along with the urge to mention that she, too, is hard at work manufacturing an altogether different sensation, one of a mutually satisfying, blossoming relationship.
Somehow she defers to her better angels.
“I do appreciate the fresh air,” she assures him, using the excuse of the cold to nestle tighter into his side. “Let’s keep on. I am very grateful for your tour of Central Park.”
It’s probably the truest thing she’s said all day. Central Park still feels like a well-kept secret, a marvelous green oasis that astounds her every time she happens upon its grounds, even after all these months. Sprawling green meadows. Lakes and woodlands and babbling brooks. It’s as if God dropped Kansasright in the middle of Manhattan, unfurling plains tucked into the heart of the bustling city.
It makes it hard not to pine for Long Creek Farm, the old rolling pastures, the endless sea of wheat... and yet her goal has never felt so possible, so close. If Alice’s plans continue falling into place, absent the latest wrinkle—with four of the families intrigued and soon to be hooked, and Harry’s adoration building, hopefully, to the point where he simply must convince his father to finance along with them—Cora could be signing a purchase agreement for the farm come May. Dreams attained. Coraline O’Malley, victorious.
She swallows around the tiny lump in her throat, watching as Harry marvels at a group of squirrels parading around a nearby tree, all the while absently narrating the unlikely adaptive mechanisms of the city park vermin. He really is so absorbed, so sheltered, all the money in the world not enough to buy him any worldly shrewdness.
Then again, does any mark like Harry honestly stand a chance against the likes of a cunning woman such as Alice? Or against Cora and the rest of her team, for that matter? Not to mention months of careful orchestration, meticulous planning, schemes...
She hasn’t thought about her father in quite some time, but now Cora finds herself pulling out old memories, considering them from different angles, like prisms in the light. She always blamed Da for his foolishness—his credulity was the sole reason Cora lost everything; she was so sure of it. But there were so many people working and conning him, from all sides, weren’t there? Neighbors pressuring him to join the grain elevator. Friends warning he was falling behind. Those slick lenders from Ross & Calhoun, flipping lightning fastthrough their thick pages of legal jargon, promising him the world, and goading him to sign.
Maybe the story she’s been telling herself is a bit too simple.
“You seem far away, Miss Ritter,” Harry says now. “Thinking about home, perhaps?”
She startles, turning.
“Your pupils have expanded,” he explains excitedly, “a telltale sign of daydreaming.”
Harry, she reminds herself, is referring to dreaming of her fictional homeland.
“Indeed,” Cora recovers. “It’s been so long since I’ve graced Württemberg’s shores.”
Hell’s bells,focus, Cora—Württemberg is landlocked.
“That is an expression in my country,” she ad-libs quickly. “Württemberg’s magnificence seems to expand beyond its borders to the mountains, the seas, and the shores.”
Harry nods thoughtfully at that hogwash, as he tends to do, never too eager to press or venture too far out of the confines of his own little world. One minor blessing, as Cora has taken to wandering off script frequently these days, often out of necessity. Of late, Alice is off with Mr. McAllister more than she’s home, always claiming some emergency meeting about the new embassy or now, this latest complication about the emerald that they must address.
“Württemberg does seem a fascinating place,” Harry says. “Arabella relayed the contents of an article she happened upon the other day, discussing your nation’s history. I do support your cousin’s efforts, by the by. The national resistance. You ask me, a country should have autonomy over its own resources.”
Cora nods, straining for solemnity, but finds she has to bite back a smile. That story she cooked up for Cal Archer endedup gracing the front page of the latest World News section ofThe Herald.And true to the reporter’s word, there was no mention in the slightest about emerald mines.
Mr. Cal Archer may well prove an unforeseen asset, in addition to a nuisance.
“Let us hope, Mr. Peyton. Let us pray that our homeland’s future is as warm and bright as the sun.”
