Smoke And Mirrors ***completed***

Chapter 5.

If it walks like a duck, swims like a duck. Its probably a duck. It was a saying that would have served Henry St. Trenton well at least years ago before he had made the worst mistake of his life. Like all St. Trenton before him  and probably others to come, Henry believed they were cursed. It was an tacit  knowledge that all males of the family were well aware of. For his part, Henry had considered castration but by then it was already too late for his wife had already gotten pregnant with yet another male. In truth, he wasn't the first one to consider such an option.
All St. Trenton seemed to have one thing in common: they had the misfortune of marrying I'll tempered vile women who had a low opinion of them and went on to make their life's hell.
On his part, after witnessing it all first hand from his dad who had once tried to kill his wife he had made sure never to marry himself. It was just not worth the headache but while frolicking in France enjoying his youth he had met a svelte French lady.
Women, as he had been taught and come to learn for himself were created to fuck up with men's mind. He had sworn never to marry but he had also found out you couldn't run from your destiny.
Forgetting his life long stand and resolution and against all common sense he had seduced the lady and like a fool he was and she had made sure to remind him of that every single day of his life or their life instead of leaving her where he had found her after getting what he wanted and he could say it wasn't easy which had made it more appealing and bolting in the cover of the night like any reasonable male he had taken her back home happily oblivious to the decades of family history.
How was that for folly?
He had married her leaving him the rest of his days to Wonder why he had done such a stupid thing. The action was self defeating in itself.
He couldn't divorce her because another thing about this women  they never left  they held on like leaches. Even after his father tried to kill his mom she still stayed and for all he knew they were still driving each other mad in the home he had put them in. But if there was anything he had learnt from his forefathers before him was he could take the easy way out and kill her. He could be serving the world a greater good by getting rid of the menace that was Cora De Sauniere. The bitch wouldn't even take his name. To her it was too American but to Henry he knew that wasn't the only reason. At least not entirely.
Decades down the line and he was no closer to taming her than he had been during their honeymoon.
She was now a nerky, grumpy willowy old hag and that was mincing words. Just looking at her you would see she had never been a classic beauty which was another mystery of what had drawn him to her.
He was in harmony with his marriage or maybe she had beaten him into submission but what kept him going was that what stood between himself and his freedom was a price of a very good gun and hundred of bullets just to be sure he wouldn't want her lingering or coming to because she was resilient if nothing else.

The stretch of limousine had just pulled up in the drive way of their son's new home. Luck, as it seemed wasn't on his side - as he would have preferred to be at home tending to his grave vines - anymore than it was on his daughter's in law side who hated Cora as much as anyone else if not more.
Cora, it seemed loved to make Barbara's life hell instilling a fear only she could manage. He knew, of course she did this without a moment's thought. How she did it was anyone's guess.
He wasn't a weak man as such or as Cora liked to portray but yet again he had conceded to her demands against his will. He hadn't mastered the fine arts of wife beating yet but you could still teach old dogs new tricks.

"It isn't too late to change your mind, " henry said without much hope, "and from what I have heard she has bought a nice shotgun and it isn't for hunting."
Cora barely looked his way or gave any indication she had heard him. He begun again but she cut him short with a flick of her boney hand.

"I heard you the first time," she said in her thickly accented English her words curving richly around the French accent, " and I also haven't fed Roi in days."
She added smiling thinly petting the small fierce white dog. Henry's eyes found the ugly marks and wounds on his hand thanks to the dog and grimaced.