Coulson's Wife (The Coulson Series) (3 page)

“H
ow is your
fish?” Randall asked, glancing up from his plate.

“It is very good, thank
you.” Mary Ellen answered, feeling both awkward and shy. 

Aunt Rachel had
departed immediately after the wedding ceremony
—
which took place within thirty minutes of their
arrival. The young bride had only enough time to be seen to her new bedchambers
where she was allowed to freshen up before hurriedly returning downstairs to
exchange vows with Randall Coulson. The Justice of the Peace departed
immediately after performing the service, with William and Rachel saying their
goodbyes minutes later.

Mary Ellen understood William
was taking her aunt back to the station so Rachel could catch the next train
back to Virginia. While she regretted her aunt’s hasty departure, she
especially hated to see William Hunter leave, as she felt less anxious in his
presence. He made her feel safe.

The cook prepared a
wedding supper for the couple, which was served in the formal dining room.
Instead of sitting on the opposing ends of the long table, as the host and
hostess might do for a dinner party, the newlyweds sat on one end of the table,
facing each other. The width, instead of the length, of the table separated the
couple.

Mary Ellen noticed her
new husband did not seem a bit nervous, yet she reminded herself she had more
than enough nervousness for the two of them.

“I assume you found
your room acceptable?”

“Yes, it’s very lovely,
thank you.” Mary Ellen reached for her glass of wine and took a sip. She had
never had wine before, yet chose not to point that out to her new husband.

“My room is down the
hall from yours but I enjoy my privacy, so I would prefer any marital visits
take place in your room. I’m a very busy man and need a good night’s sleep,
therefore I expect you not to disturb me when I’m in my room.”

Does this mean we don’t
sleep together?
Mary Ellen asked herself, yet was too
nervous to voice the question. Her parents shared a bed, and she assumed most
couples did. Of course, the people she knew didn’t have the luxury of having
extra rooms
—
or extra beds.

“Certainly,” Mary Ellen
responded, somewhat confused.

“I think it best if you
spend the next few weeks getting acclimated to your new role as my wife. I
understand this was all very sudden for you, and considering your age, I think
it best if we ease into this arrangement.”

Does this mean he will
not come to my bed tonight? Oh, please mean that!

“Mrs. Parker has been
running this household for a number of years now, and I see no reason to trouble
you with its management, since it’s already in capable hands. Perhaps in a
month or so, when you settle in, you might make some menu suggestions. But for
now, I think it best for everyone if you simply observe.”

“Whatever you say, Mr.
Coulson.” Mary Ellen took another sip of wine.

“While there is
something charming about a wife calling her husband by his surname, I suppose
it would be best if you call me Randall.”

Mary Ellen nodded and
flashed him a weak smile, then took another bite of her fish. She wondered
exactly what was expected of her. They ate in silence for the remainder of the
meal.

“I’m feeling quite
positive about this arrangement, Mary Ellen.” Randall announced as he finished
his last bite of food and dabbed the corners of his mouth with a linen napkin.

“I’m pleased to see you
aren’t a chatty type. Had you felt the need to make annoying small talk
throughout the meal, I’m afraid I’d choose to dine alone in the future. A wife
capable of holding her tongue
—
giving
her husband peace
—
is a very
desirable trait. Yes, I’m quite pleased with my choice.”

He tossed the napkin on
the table and stretched, his eyes focused on his nervous bride.

“Are you going to cry?”

“Excuse me?”

“When I come to your bed tonight, will you
cry? Did your mother prepare you for what’s expected of you?”

“I…I thought you wanted to wait?” Her
queasiness returned.

Randall let out a laugh
and then said, “No dear, I was referring to managing the household. Personally
I’d like a son by the year’s end, and a baby will keep you occupied.”

Mary Ellen did not know
what to say, so she just sat there, staring blankly at her husband.

“I’ve a big day
tomorrow, so I don’t imagine it’ll take long. I’ll come to your room in let’s
say,” he stood up, took out his pocket watch and looked at it briefly, “one
hour. It would probably be easier if you prepare yourself for me and wait in
your bed. If you wish to turn the lights off, that’s fine with me. I imagine it’ll
make it easier for you, especially the first time.”

Mary Ellen said
nothing, but continued to stare. Randall moved away from the table and looked
down at his frightened bride.

“Do you understand,
Mary Ellen?” Randall asked in a stern tone.

“Yes, sir. I’ll be
ready in one hour.”

“Good girl.”

• • • •

Shafts of morning
sunlight spilled through the lace curtain and woke Mary Ellen the next morning.
Groggily she opened her eyes and for a brief moment forgot where she was. It
came to her quickly, and without a hesitation her right hand reached beneath
the covers and touched the spot under her nightgown that felt battered and
bruised from the previous night.

She had been too
embarrassed to apply the lotion before Randall came to her which she dearly
regretted by the time he was finished. Tonight she would definitely rub the
lotion on the injured area before he climbed into her bed.

The darkened room eased
her embarrassment, even though it did not relieve her discomfort.  There were
no sweet words or tender kisses before, after or during the consummation of
their marriage. While she did not really know exactly what to expect,
considering her mother’s description of the marriage bed was the condensed
version, she had expected something slightly different.

Her husband of a few
hours simply walked into the darkened bedroom without saying a word and pulled
back the quilt covering his wife. She lay motionless on the mattress looking up
toward the ceiling, wondering if she should be doing something.

Without saying a word,
Randall pulled up the hem of his bride’s nightgown, exposing her skin to the
night air, shoved a pillow under her bottom and climbed atop her. It was then
she realized he was nude. Roughly, he pushed her legs apart and seemed quite
intent on finding the opening between her legs. Once he located the spot, he
forced his way in before repeatedly ramming his hard member inside her body.

It seemed to go on for
hours, yet had she checked the time, she would have known the act took less
than fifteen minutes. When he was done, he told her to expect him the following
night at the same time. He left the room without saying another word. She saved
her tears for when she was alone.

She was awake for less
than ten minutes when one of the housemaids barged into the room and opened the
curtains, letting more sunlight into the room.

“Mr. Coulson says you
are to get up, you have a big day ahead of you,” the young girl chirped. “My
name is Lily, and I’ll be taking care of you.”

“A big day? I’m afraid
I don’t understand.” Mary Ellen sat up in the bed and pulled the quilt up
around her.

“He’s ordered you a new
wardrobe, and you’re to go to the fitting. But that’s after you get your hair
styled proper-like. Then of course there are your classes with Mrs. Hanover.”

“Mrs. Hanover?” None of
this made sense to Mary Ellen.

“From what I
understand, Mrs. Hanover will help polish you up a bit.”

“Polish me up a bit?”

“You know, teach you
all the things a lady needs to know, such as the proper usage of knives and
forks, and how to walk like a lady.”

Mary Ellen frowned.
I’ve
been effectively and correctly using knives and forks since I was a small
child. And guess what, I can even handle a spoon!
Walk like a lady? Is
she serious? He didn’t snatch some backwards hillbilly.
Before she could respond
a second house maid entered the room carrying a tray of food. Both women wore
matching uniforms and crisply starched aprons.

The new bride didn’t
feel like the mistress of the house the way the two young maids were ordering
her around, pulling her from her bed and shoving her to the small table with
the tray of food. Reluctantly sampling the breakfast, she warily watched the
two maids remove her bed linens, giggling as they did so. By the time she
finished breakfast they had remade the bed and were turning their attention to
her. It was obvious they intended to dress her as if she was a small child.

“Stop!” Mary Ellen
shouted as one maid started tugging on the nightgown, attempting to remove the
garment. The two girls jumped backwards, away from the obviously agitated
bride.

“While Mr. Coulson as
my husband may have some say in my daily schedule and wardrobe, I assure you—the
household staff does not. I have been dressing myself for as long as I can
remember, and unless I specifically request your help, do not presume to take
it upon yourselves to dress me, drag me from my bed or force feed me breakfast.
Do you understand?” Mary Ellen no longer sounded like a timid seventeen-year-old
girl, but more like the determined lady of the house.

The two young maids,
who were each at least eight years older than the bride, nodded their heads
nervously, taken aback by their mistress’ authoritative tone. Neither knew Mary
Ellen’s furor was stoked by days of frustration. She did not want this
marriage. While she might have submitted to the will of both her father and husband,
as she was taught a good daughter and wife must do, she did have her limit and
she had just reached it.

Growing up as the only
girl in a house with ten boys, she’d become a surrogate mother to her brothers,
hardly a task for a timid soul. To survive, she learned to take a firm hand
with her younger siblings and refused to take any nonsense from the older ones.
Maybe she hadn’t taken a firm stand with her father and her husband, but she
definitely would with the household staff.

Mary Ellen wasn’t sure
if the two girls told their coworkers about the dressing down the new mistress
gave them, but the rest of the staff treated her with respect befitting a woman
in her position and did not presume to assert their control. Even Mrs. Parker
came to her the next day
—i
nstead
of waiting a month as Randall suggested
—
asking for her input on the next week’s menu.

During the first week
of her marriage, Mary Ellen saw very little of her husband. He joined her for
dinner each evening, and together they silently ate what the cook prepared for them.
Each night at 8 p.m. he promptly came to her room, climbed atop her body and
tried to make a son. After the first night, Mary Ellen began applying the
lotion between her legs, and if Randall ever noticed, he didn’t say anything.

She didn’t see William
Hunter that first week; they had no visitors. None of the household staff were
chatty, particularly not the two young women who greeted her the first morning.
They silently attended to their tasks and only spoke to their mistress when
absolutely necessary. Mary Ellen began to feel a little guilty for being so
harsh with the two, and told herself she would need to talk to them so they
could stop acting so frightened all the time. She knew how painful it was to be
constantly frightened of someone. That was how she felt about her husband.

On her week’s
anniversary, she sat down and wrote a letter to her Aunt Rachel.  In the letter
she asked,
Would you please send me the recipe to that lotion you gave me
?

“I
can go instead,”
William suggested. He sat alone with his business partner in the study of
Randall’s home, waiting for dinner to be served.

“You hate Chicago, and
this deal is really my baby. It’d be best if you stay here and take care of
things at the plant.” Randall handed William one of the two glasses of brandy he
held, then sat in the empty chair next to his friend.

“You’re going to leave
your bride alone for over a month? You’ve barely been married that long.”

“No reason to stay
here. Mary Ellen’s with child.” Randall raised his glass in toast as he made
the announcement, then took a sip of his drink.

“Congratulations,” William
stammered, surprised at the announcement. “But are you sure?”

“Do you remember when
Mary Ellen’s aunt asked to speak with me privately, before you took her back to
the train depot?”

“Yes.”

“The woman urged me to
give the girl time to adjust to her new home and to me, before consummating our
marriage.”

“Really?” William doubted
Randall took the aunt’s suggestion.

“I wondered briefly if
Mary Ellen was in the midst of her woman’s monthly. I could see how that might
prove embarrassing for the girl. But the aunt assured me that wasn’t the case
and even told me when I should expect my bride to start again, which was two
weeks ago.”

“How would her aunt
know something like that?” William could not imagine engaging in such a
conversation with a woman he barely knew. Even if he knew the woman well, it
would be an awkward topic.

“I have no idea. I
suppose women discuss these sorts of things. But the point is, Mary Ellen has
not started her monthly, therefore she is obviously pregnant.”

“Has she seen a
doctor?”

“Whatever for? Women
have been having babies since the beginning of time. She can see a doctor when
she’s farther along.”

William wondered what
Mary Ellen thought about being a mother. He hadn’t seen her during her first
week of marriage
—
aside from
the wedding day. But on the second week he fell into old habits, which brought
him to the Coulson estate every evening for supper.

Each night he and Randall
enjoyed a brandy in the study before joining Mary Ellen in the dining room for
the evening meal. The young bride was silent throughout the dinners, and
Randall made no effort to bring her into the conversation. William would
typically greet her with a compliment
—
you look very lovely tonight
—
that dress suits you well
—
that color brings out your
eyes
, and then ask her a question or two about her day’s events. In spite
of his effort, her conversation was minimal. However, she never failed to blush
at William’s compliments.

“Well, if you’re going
to Chicago, I suppose I’ll have to make other dinner arrangements”

“Don’t be ridiculous,
William. There’s no reason to do that. Staff will continue to set a place for
you at the dinner table
—
as usual.”

“I don’t think that
would be proper, Randall.”

“Proper? I’m counting
on you to keep an eye on my bride. You’re the one constantly reminding me of
her youthful naiveté. I’m not really sure I can trust her to take proper care
of herself in my absence.”

“You want me to babysit
her?” William chuckled.

“Of course not. But
continue to have dinners here, and keep an eye on her. If you notice anything
that needs attention, I trust you to take care of it. I also think she likes
you and she may need your company while I’m away. She doesn’t converse with the
staff much
—
which of course
is not a bad thing
—
but
women can get emotional during this time. I’ll just feel better knowing you’re
keeping an eye on things for me.”

“Okay, Randall. I’ll
babysit your child bride for you.”

“Oh, stop calling her
that!”

• • • •

Mary Ellen stood at her
bedroom window and watched as her husband prepared to get into the motor car
with William. Just as he got into the vehicle, he glanced up to her window and
gave her a brief, impersonal farewell wave. He got into the car quickly and did
not glance back up to the window, therefore he didn’t know his wife failed to
return the gesture. She watched as the car pulled away from the house. William
was taking Randall to the train station. Her husband was on his way to Chicago.

Still looking out the
window, watching the car disappear down the drive, Mary Ellen brought her right
hand to her belly, holding it there for a brief moment.  She smiled, glad to be
free of Randall’s nightly attentions for a month, and wondered how he would
react when he discovered she was not pregnant.

Turning from the
window, she walked to the bed and sat on the edge of the mattress. It had been
three nights since Randall announced he would be going to Chicago for a month
—
three nights since he told her
she was carrying his child. She didn’t argue with him, in spite of the fact she
knew he was wrong. Once he believed she was pregnant, he stopped coming to her
at night and for that she was grateful.

While her period was
late, she was experiencing morning cramps, which she normally had a day or so
before her monthly cycle. If she told him she wasn’t pregnant, he might cancel
his trip and send William instead, meaning she would again be forced to endure
his nightly visits.

She understood those
visits would resume when he returned from Chicago, however, she desperately
needed a temporary reprieve. She hated the way he touched her
—
used her. There was no
tenderness, no softness.

Their conjugal visits
changed slightly after their first week of marriage. He continued to come to
her bed each night, at precisely the same time. The room remained dark, lit
only by whatever evening light managed to make its way through the bedroom
curtains. But after Randall pulled down the bed sheets to uncover his wife, he
gently turned her over onto her stomach, pushed a pillow under her belly and
took her from behind.

She found the
experience humiliating. He never offered tender words, kisses or caresses. Each
night, unseen tears slid down her face as she clung to a pillow, her cheek
pressed against the mattress as her elevated bottom received her husband’s
repeated thrusts.

She wondered if it was
like this for her mother
—
for
all other women. Then she remembered what Aunt Rachel had said. It could be
enjoyable. Mary Ellen didn’t know how that was possible. She hated everything
about her marital duties, including her cold husband.

That evening, an hour
before supper was to be served, Mary Ellen started her period. It was obvious
her husband had shared his misinformation with some members of the staff,
considering how the housekeeper and cook were clucking around her, delighted
with their master’s news. Since she was not the one who spread the falsehood,
she decided it would be Randall’s duty to tell them he had been wrong. While no
one came out directly and discussed pregnancy, it was obvious they all believed
they were sharing some grand secret.

But Mary Ellen had her
own secret and she was determined to conceal the fact she’d just started her
cycle, even if that meant burying the bloody rags in the wooded field behind
the property.

“Are you feeling all right?”
William asked that evening as he sat down at the dinner table with Mary Ellen. The
cook had just served the potato soup. Mary Ellen and William sat across the
width of the table from each other, alone in the large dining room.

“You look a little
pale.”

“I’m just tired,” Mary
Ellen explained as she brought a spoonful of soup to her lips and gently blew
on the hot liquid.

“Well, it’s not
uncommon for a woman to be ill during these early days.”

Mary Ellen’s eyes flashed
up and looked across the table to William.
He told him. William thinks I’m
pregnant
. She closed her eyes briefly and took a deep breath.
Did I
expect he wouldn’t?

“I’m sorry, did I
embarrass you?”

“No, I…well…I’m just
surprised Randall has been so…so vocal with his news.”

“How so?”

“Apparently he
mentioned it to some of the staff. I assume so, considering how several are
hovering.”

“He’s just excited.”

“Is he?” she snapped. William
set his spoon on his plate and looked across the table at Mary Ellen, who was
clearly agitated.

“Randall has always
wanted children.”

“Sons, you mean. Sons.
How will he react if I give him a daughter?” While she was not pregnant now,
she imagined he would eventually impregnate her and there was no guarantee she
would give him sons.

“I would adore a
daughter. I’m sure Randall would too.”

“Have you ever heard
him mention daughters?” She no longer sounded like the timid seventeen-year-old
bride who’d married his business partner, but an angry woman who might be fully
capable of throwing a punch if someone said something she disliked.

“Umm, no…but that
doesn’t mean he wouldn’t love her.”

“Like he loves me?” Her
comment took William by surprise and he sat there speechless for a few moments.

“Are you that unhappy?”
he asked in a soft voice.

“You told me once your
friend wouldn’t hurt me.”

“Has he hurt you?”
What
had Randall done to his innocent bride?

“I hate it. I really
hate
it!”

“Has he hurt you?”

“I suppose not. No more
than husbands have been hurting their wives for eternity, I suspect.”

“You’re saying you hate
the intimacy a wife must share with her husband?” William knew he had no
business asking such a personal and inappropriate question, yet he couldn’t
help himself.

“We share nothing. He
just takes!” Mary Ellen snapped, then she took a deep breath and told herself
to calm down. “I’m sorry, that was very improper of me. Please, don’t tell
Randall what I said.”

“No, of course not. But
it was really my fault. I should never have asked such a personal question.”

“In fairness to Randall,
he’s not cruel to me. And he has been most generous in providing me with a
comfortable place to live, and I have beautiful clothes. But...well…I’m lonely,
William. I have no friends…no family here. I have no one to talk to.”

“You always have me.” Reaching
across the table he patted her hand as she was about to pick up her water
goblet. She blushed at his words.

“You have been very
kind, and I thank you for that.”

“Randall did say I was
to look out for you. I think a car ride in the countryside would be good for
you. Get you out of this house. How about I pick you up in the morning, after
breakfast?”