MIST AND MIRAGE

Three days. Thats how long it took for me to realize I had made a mistake. Up until three days ago I was known as Princess Sophie of Falstone, England. Today I am the Duchess of Dumfries, and the wife of Oswald Eugene Huxley. The facade he showed while courting me worked well enough. We didn't spend much time together and never talked about anything of consequence. He was agreeable if not aloof during the process, not seeming to care if the marriage happened or not. I got the impression that he needed to get married, and that our marriage would be unemotional and transactional.

We traveled north to his home in Jedburgh immediately after my wedding. I had heard stories of Fulton Tower but had never seen it until that evening. I giggled when it came into view. It is just a tower; nothing more. As if the builders started with the tower and quit before building the rest of the castle. It sat alone in a clearing making it look tiny and frail. There was another building off to the side where the duke and his men lived, along with several smaller buildings. Fulton Tower was reported to be the symbol of strength. It was a fortress, the namesake, the pride of Dumfries. This marriage was off to an unpromising start.

I must confess that one of the reasons I chose him was the insinuation of distance. If our marriage was not based on love, then we could live separate lives like many others did. I knew he wanted an heir, and I was aware of my responsibilities. Our first night together was a bit rough, awkward, and expeditious. He never said a word from the time he entered my quarters until the time he left. He took advantage of his husbandly rights and did what he wanted, leaving soon after. I had a long talk with my mother last week and had been warned about the process. She told me it could range from joyous and wonderous, to painful and frightening. She also admitted the first time was usually the worst. She was right. The pain was bearable, but the coldness of such an emotional encounter for me was worse.

When Oswald entered my room the second night, I asked for one night of respite. I was sore from last night and wanted a day to recover. Oswald said 'no' and pointed to the bed. Even knowing what to expect this time, it was still worse. My husband left without a word, and I cried for the first time as his wife. On the third night of my marriage, Oswald arrived drunk and angry. He was more forceful this time and got mad when I tried to hold him. He got furious when I tried to speak and slapped me hard enough to ring my ears. In the silence I went slack and waited for him to finish and leave.

Why does God not see his children crying in the night? Where is his love when seconds seem to last hours? Where is his mercy when minutes feel like days? I prayed every night. My prayers feel like a candle of hope, battling against the crushing darkness of hopelessness. I have been snared by the devil and married to evil. I can feel it chipping away at my soul, seeking is ruin. I open my Bible to the well-worn page of Peter and read to myself. 'To this you were called, because Christ suffered for you, leaving you an example, that you should follow in his steps,'

I will endure.