Isabella_Bride of Ohio Page 8

  Sitting on the dressing table stool, Isabella blushed beneath his gaze and her eyes dropped to the carpet, suddenly feeling shy.

  “Nervous?” His voice had a different tone tonight.

  “Yes,” her voice came out almost in a whisper.

  He now stood before her and took a sip of his brandy before offering her one as casual as anything. As if she were not sitting in their room without a dress to cover her. “A bit of courage for you.”

  “Oh I don’t usually drink the stronger spirits and I’ve already had two glasses of champagne. There were so many toasts. I’m a bit tipsy, I confess.”

  Donald certainly had encouraged them in their toasting.

  Now he sat watching her. He held the glass out toward her. “Just this once won’t hurt you.”

  She took the glass from his hand and took a sip. The brandy was of course too strong for her, as she knew it would be, but she swallowed anyway. Anything to calm her stomach that was turning over and over again more than it had in the church.

  “You barely ate today. Like a bird.” His tone scolded her.

  Perhaps he was concerned.

  “I was too nervous to eat.”

  “That was quite noticeable. In the future I will expect you to eat whether you are nervous or not. I won’t have people saying my wife is wasting away. That she is unhappy.”

  “Yes.” She paused. “Donald.” It sounded so foreign on her tongue. She took another sip.

  He had not asked for the glass back and with his scolding her nervousness had increased. It was said consummation could be painful for the woman. Perhaps she should finish the glass.

  He stood watching her without speaking.

  Still holding the glass, her thoughts scattered, reaching for something familiar. Everything about her new home was new, as well as the way he was looking at her. She had to re-gather her thoughts. He expected her full attention this night.

  Oh, why did I agree to marry a man I did not know? This is so much harder than I thought it would be. He is handsome and I should want this. Any woman would be lucky to be married to him and I do want to have children.

  “I might need more time,” she spoke, her voice low, ashamed to show her nervousness.

  “More time.” He sat in a chair directly across from her and leaned back, his legs wide, his glass resting on his right leg. Even seated in a chair and not towering over her, he had a commanding presence.

  What would he do?

  Her stomach did another flip.

  “I am not the sort of husband who will wait weeks for his new bride to come around to the idea of being bedded. The first time is best dealt with quickly, that the difficult part should soon be over for the woman and then the difficult part is past and done. Delaying will only build fear in your mind, my dear. And I won’t have that.” His voice brooked no argument.

  Wide eyed, she took another sip of the brandy, hoping it would settle her nerves.

  He nodded at her glass. “Now drink up. Until you finish it.”

  She raised it to her lips for another swallow. The strong spirits were making her feel warm now and perhaps this was best. She needed to settle her nerves.

  “When you have finished, go lay down on the bed.”

  It did not occur to her that she had any choice but to obey. This was what good wives did and she had just vowed to obey her husband as they took their vows before God.

  He sat quiet in the chair watching her with intensity as he sipped from his own glass.

  Once she had emptied her glass she did exactly as he said. He did not speak, but set his glass down and walked over to where she lay on the bed and began unbuttoning his sleeves as he watched her.

  Chapter Eight

  One of those little red birds sat on a branch outside the bedroom window singing with the rising of the sun. Isabella did not want to wake up this morning and flung an arm over her eyes.

  The day is too bright. The sounds are too loud.

  Pulling the covers over her head, she wished she could stay here in the warmth of the bed for as long as possible. She ached. Not only in her body but in her heart. Dried streaks of her tears still lay upon her face.

  Before last night, there had been a general awareness that marital relations might be painful. It was understood that after the first night things would improve. She need only bear through it and then they could build an intimacy of love and devotion as they worked upon improving their time together. All women went through this.

  Even with the brandy to relax her, intimate relations with her new husband had been much worse than she could have imagined. Impatient, Donald had pressed and persisted, not waiting for her to relax and let him in.

  His callous comments had wounded her deeply. The implication she was not a good wife. He was not satisfied with her. And it was somehow her fault she could not respond to him as he wished. Her lack of response was a fault of her womanhood in his view. She was to give him what he wanted upon command. Yet her body did not work that way. She could not will it to do the things he wanted.

  She could not relax. He had been too rough, too much in a hurry. Even his kisses were rough as he became more excited and his desire grew.

  At first she had thought it was desire for her that made him say, “Go lay down on the bed. Lay back. Remove your clothing. I want to watch.”

  While she had complied, she waited for Donald to touch her tenderly and kiss her. To show her that he loved her. That touch, that kiss had never come. Instead he had roughly taken her virginity, not caring when she cried out.

  When he was done and had stepped away from her, leaving her there on the bed, she had remained still, stunned by what had just happened. She had expected it to hurt some, perhaps a lot. But she had also expected afterward he would be kind to her and show her some sort of tenderness.

  For one moment she had held a last bit of hope and with her heart crying out she had reached with her hand as she spoke in a low soft voice, “Please, hold me.”

  He turned away.

  She caught her breath, tears forming.

  He flung on his robe, grabbed his glass of Brandy and the decanter and headed downstairs, leaving her alone.

  She had not pleased him. And he had far from pleased her.

  Curling onto her side as tears fell upon her pillow, she vowed never to beg to be held again. She pulled the covers up over herself and slept.

  Oh why did I drink all that brandy last night after having champagne? I feel positively awful this morning, as if I’d been poisoned.

  She did not even want to get out of bed this morning, so she stayed beneath the covers hoping she would fall asleep again. Even the cheerful cardinals could not cheer her today. Though she could hear movement and voices downstairs, no one came upstairs to disturb her.

  Mid-day when she finally arose and dressed to go downstairs in search of some bread and cheese to eat, she met Mrs. Blevins coming up the stairs. “If you were waiting for Dolcinda to help you dress, she has been let go,” she said. “You will have to tend to yourself now for I am no lady’s maid.”

  “I am used to tending to myself,” Isabella answered, remembering Donald had hired her for one day. “I have no need for a lady’s maid.”

  Mrs. Blevins turned to go down the stairs.

  “Wait, please,” Isabella said.

  The woman stopped and turned back to look at her.

  “The cake yesterday was delicious,” she said. “Everything was. And you did it on such short notice. I can’t imagine how you put everything together with just a few days notice.”

  “Not at all,” Mrs. Blevins answered. “Mr. Jenks has been planning this wedding for a over a month.” She gave Isabella a strange look and then continued on down the stairs.

  A month? But I didn’t even say yes until a few days ago. He must have been very sure of himself to make plans before I did.

  Donald was in the parlor reading. He closed the book when she entered. “Ah. You are up. Good.” He nodded. “Bef
ore supper I shall take you for a walk.” He smiled, his eyes kind. “If you are up to it, my dear.”

  Gone was the uncaring man from last night. In his place was the charming handsome man she had married who was looking at her in a caring way. It was most confusing.

  “Yes,” she nodded. “I am up to it.”

  She was sore and tired but it was nothing that would get in the way of a good healthy walk. The idea of being outside in the fresh air appealed to her. It would help her clear her head.

  Mrs. Blevins entered the room and addressed him. “Shall I serve the meal now, sir?”

  “Yes.” He rose and walked toward Isabella. “I am sure my new wife is hungry after last night.” He winked and continued past her into the dining room. “I have been waiting on you. And I have a huge appetite.”

  Isabella followed him into the dining room and sat, wondering how she would ever be able to eat.

  The cook served a hearty beef stew and rolls which settled Isabella’s stomach and her nerves. There was something about a good stew which made one feel at home and Isabella wanted to feel at home.

  But watching her new husband across the table, it felt as if she did not know him at all. So hard was it to reconcile the one side of the man she had seen with the other. How could this be the same man who had turned away when she had reached for him, begging to be held? She said little as she ate, her mind still grappling with the events of last night. She did not know what to say to him nor was she comfortable looking at him directly. He did not speak to her until Mrs. Blevins brought in a bowl of hot biscuits.

  “Well, Mrs. Jenks,” he asked in hearty voice that nearly made Isabella jump, “are you enjoying your stew?”

  “Yes,” she answered quietly. “It’s very good.”

  “Mrs. Blevins, we both approve,” Donald said. “You must make this again for us.” He nodded at her.

  Mrs. Blevins smiled. “Yes sir.”

  “The biscuits are good and hot.” He handed the bowl to Isabella. “Try one.”

  She took the bowl from him and quietly said, “Thank you.”

  When he finished his stew, Donald pushed back his bowl and said, “I know just the place for your walks. It is the most scenic in the area.” He stood and held out his arm. “Come. I have been waiting to show you.”

  Watching Donald’s expression, she hesitantly rose, threaded her arm through his, and placed her hand on it.

  He closed his other hand over hers as they walked outside. “It is not far from the house and there are only about three miles of trails to walk but you can see the Clifton Gorge and the river. You will love the view, my dear,” Donald said as they walked down the street.

  The sun was shining, and the birds were singing. Isabella began ever so slowly to relax with each step. Crossing the last street they walked through a park. The trees at the edge only broke for a small foot path, which Donald seemed to know well.

  Walking beneath the canopy of trees, Isabella felt as if she stepped into a different world. This was more like the forests of her homeland. Though the sights were new, it felt like home. So caught in that feeling, she barely heard what Donald was saying.

  “The gorge is just up ahead. Watch your step,” he said.

  Suddenly, they reached one of the overlooks and stood looking down into the gorge.

  “Oh,” she gasped as she looked down into the rushing waters below. “It is beautiful. And so far down.”

  “Yes, it is.” He smiled. “Very.”

  She held onto his arm a little tighter, her stomach getting that fluttering feeling again and a squeamishness.

  He patted her hand as if to reassure her. “This overlook has a history. Allow me to tell you the story of Darnell’s Leap.”

  “Oh yes.” She smiled up at him. “Please. I do enjoy a good story.”

  “As you wish.” He nodded and then began. “Darnell was a member of Daniel Boone’s outfit. He was captured by Indians.”

  “Oh no,” Isabella said. “How dreadful. Indians.” She shivered. She had never seen an Indian but she had heard stories about them and how they scalped people.

  “Yes, Indians. But soon after being captured, he escaped. They discovered his escape quickly and hunted him down until they caught up with him near this narrow part of the gorge.” He paused for dramatic effect.

  “Yes? What happened then?”

  “Legend says that he miraculously leapt across the chasm to avoid being recaptured.”

  She looked across the chasm and looked back at her new husband. “Truly?”

  “Yes, truly. According to the legend.”

  “My goodness. That was quite a leap.”

  “Indeed.”

  They stood looking at the chasm in silence until he finally said, “It’s time to go back.”

  “Yes.” She nodded. “Of course.” She had quickly learned he liked things to be precise and on time. “Thank you for bringing me here and telling me the story.”

  Perhaps he has started to care for me a little. He has made the effort to show me this walking trail and to share a story. Two of my favorite things. Perhaps he will join me in a walk again. It would be lovely to go for walks with my husband and enjoy the beautiful sights together.

  Lightened by her thoughts, she beamed a happy smile all the way back to their home. At the front yard he said, “I trust you will be able to find your way there by yourself from now on and won’t need someone to go with you.”

  Though her heart fell, she kept the smile on her face. “Yes, of course. I am used to walking alone.”

  I have been walking alone for so long.

  Though she had a husband now, it really felt no different. It still felt as if she were walking alone.

  ****

  The next day she was out of bed much earlier. Fortunately, he had not pressed her for more intimacy and had left her alone so that she could go on to sleep. Perhaps his behavior on their wedding night was a one-time occurrence and they could both move on from it. She hoped so. She did not want to go through another night like that again.

  At breakfast, Donald announced he had to go into town and collect the ledgers he needed in order to work at home. “You’ll have the day to yourself.” He smiled at her. “You and the cook can plan the menus for the week. Surprise me.”

  “Oh yes, of course. I will be happy to.”

  A whole day to herself. How lovely. They had been spending so much time together since she had arrived and a break from him sounded good.

  ****

  The beef roast had been dry and Donald was complaining to Mrs. Blevins, the cook.

  I would never speak to a servant that way.

  Perhaps she could have a softening effect on Donald now that they were married. He had agreed they would discuss the running of the household.

  I must speak to him about this when we are alone. I won’t contradict him in front of the servants, but he must understand that a servant can be corrected with kindness. Perhaps if I remind him that I too worked as a servant briefly and cannot bear to have them ill-treated in any way he will be kinder to them.

  He was still berating the poor cook who appeared as if she might quit any moment, when a knock came on the front door. He went to answer it as the cook fled back to the kitchen.

  Isabella laid her fork down, having finished her dinner and curious as to who had come to call, followed in his wake.

  Donald opened the door, saying “May I help you?”

  Isabella shifted so that she could get a better view, then froze.

  “Thomas Allenby,” Tom bowed.

  Isabella caught her breath.

  Tom? Here to see me?

  She clasped her hands together as she stood behind Donald watching and listening.

  I cannot believe he is here. Really here.

  “Donald Jenks,” her husband replied. Turning, he almost pulled Isabella forward. “And this is my new wife, Isabella.”

  “Oh we’ve met,” Tom grinned.

  Laughing, Isa
bella said, “Yes, we have.”

  Already her new husband was frowning and likely wondering who the man was and what he wanted. Donald briefly glanced back and forth between them

  Finally, Isabella said, “Tom is the man who saved me from those men at the train station. He saved my life.”

  “And now he’s here for a reward. I should have expected as much.”

  No. Thomas was not like that.

  But she held her tongue and kept back the words which wanted to rush from her lips.

  As if he had not heard Donald, Tom held out a bag of money. “I recovered Isabella’s purse with the money that was stolen from her.”

  Instantly, Donald’s demeanor shifted. “Come in, come in. We were just about to have dessert. Please, join us.” Suddenly he was the warm, welcoming host. He stepped aside with a flourish and a bow.

  Isabella marveled at how drastic the change was, and even more incredibly, how fast it happened.

  Why, watching him you would have thought Tom was a long lost friend. How quickly Donald changed.

  They moved into the parlor and Isabella called for coffee and dessert cakes to be served. She then settled on a chair, trying to hold back her excitement. Tom was her first company to visit since they had married.

  “So, you’re newly married?” he asked.

  “Yes, just two days ago.” She beamed at him, so happy he was here visiting with her. It was as if the room lit up when he had entered. “Here in the United Methodist church. All the guests were on Donald’s side.”

  “My friends are your friends my dear,” Donald said.

  “Where are you from Mrs. Jenks?” Tom asked. “Your accent is Scandinavian. Norway? Finland?”

  “Oh! Yes.” Her face lit with pleasure at the chance to tell him more about herself. “I am from Sweden.”

  “Ah!” he said with a grin. “I love it when I’m right. What part of Sweden are you from?”

  “Orby, Alvsborg. Orby is part of the town Kinna in Mark Municipality, Vastra Gotaland Country.”

  “Is it a large town?” Tom asked as he bit into a dessert cake.

  “Oh no. Orby is a parish as well as a town.” Isabella laughed. “There are fewer than two thousand people in my hometown.” Isabella gave him a smile. “I am not so fond of the big cities. New York City was much too big for my liking. I missed the trees.”