by Bobbi Smith
“Don’t worry, I’ll try not to hurt you.”
“I trust you, Michael,” she told him, believing that he would be gentle with her. “You would never hurt me.”
Michael moved over her trembling body and nudged his way between her thighs. Elizabeth grew nervous as he probed at her, seeking to breach her innocence. When he positioned himself and thrust forward, destroying the proof of her chastity, she was stunned by the almost painful invasion. Tensing, Elizabeth held herself stiffly as she tried to adjust to the foreignness of having him deep within her. She wanted to enjoy this new intimacy, but it was impossible for Michael was no longer kissing or caressing her. He seemed totally unaware of her discomfort and confusion as he moved against her seeking his own pleasure. Elizabeth concluded that it was her own fault she wasn’t enjoying her husband’s lovemaking. In an effort to once again feel the excitement she’d known before in his embrace, she wrapped her arms around him and held him close.
“I love you, Michael,” she whispered as he thrust against her with ever-increasing intensity.
Michael didn’t answer, but continued his pace, building to his own satisfaction. As pleasure heaved through him, he groaned and collapsed on top of her.
Elizabeth believed she should be thrilled. Michael had just made love to her. This was the moment she’d dreamed of, the moment she’d waited so breathlessly for, and yet all she felt was empty. When he abruptly moved away from her to rest on his own side of the bed with his eyes closed, she was hurt. Tears welled up in her eyes. Weren’t there supposed to be tender touches and loving kisses at moments like this? Bewildered, her soul chilled, she drew a blanket up over her and huddled beneath it.
It surprised Elizabeth when Michael turned to her again a short time later. He murmured only a few words of affection before possessing her body once more. Through the long, dark hours of the night, he took her over and over again, until finally just before dawn he withdrew from her and fell into an exhausted sleep.
Elizabeth lay stiff and sore beside him in their marriage bed. The blood of her lost innocence stained the sheet, but she had lost more than just her physical innocence. As she stared out the window at the first pale light of dawn, a single tear escaped and traced down her cheek. It was a new day . . . the beginning of her life with Michael. She’d thought she’d feel beautiful and loved this morning; instead, she felt alone, so very alone.
Unbidden, Angel’s words from that night so long ago slipped into her thoughts. He’s not nice. Elizabeth banished the memory as quickly as she could. She told herself firmly that things would get better, that it was her fault she had not enjoyed the night. They were married now, and when you were married you cared about each other and took care of each other. You put each other’s happiness before your own. She loved Michael, and he loved her. Everything would be fine.
In the Windsor mansion, Angel awoke after a night of fitful rest. Her first thought was of Elizabeth, and she prayed her sister was all right.
Ten Months Later
It was late, well past midnight. The spacious Marsden abode was dark except for the light shining from the window of the master bedroom on the second floor. Though in daylight, one could see that the lawns of the manse were perfectly tended and the house itself was in perfect condition, there was an eeriness about the place at night. It seemed to have no warmth . . . no love . . . no soul.
Sitting alone in the master bedroom, her hands resting on the swollen mound of her stomach, Elizabeth wiped away the tears that refused to stop. Where was Michael? She felt abandoned.
A dull ache in her lower back tormented her, and she shifted uncomfortably in the upholstered wing chair, trying to alleviate the misery. Nothing seemed to work, though, and she sighed her vexation.
When the mantel clock chimed the hour of two, Elizabeth glared at the offending timepiece. She knew it was late! She didn’t have to be so sorely and regularly reminded of the hour and of her husband’s absence!
Pushing awkwardly to her feet, Elizabeth moved to the window to look down at the street below. It was deserted. There was no sign of horse or carriage. She was still alone.
Elizabeth rubbed the small of her back as she wandered to the bed to lie down. Thoughts of Michael filled her as she settled in. She missed him desperately. He’d been gone since before she’d wakened this morning, and he had left no note for her telling her of his plans for the day. Not that that was unusual anymore. Ever since she’d told him she was expecting the baby, he’d changed. Before her pregnancy, he had come to her bed and made love to her almost every night. For the past six months, though, he’d rarely touched her. In fact, once her pregnancy had begun to show he’d moved out of the master bedroom completely. He’d told her that it was in deference to her delicate condition. She would have accepted that, if he’d continued to spend time with her, but with each passing day he’d grown more and more distant and spent more and more time away from home.
Elizabeth could only conclude that it was her fault he didn’t want to be with her anymore. She had driven him away from her somehow, but just as soon as she’d had the baby and her slender figure returned she intended to win him back. Rolling to her side, Elizabeth pulled the covers over her and silently prayed that Michael would come home soon.
It was nearly nine the next morning when a knock sounded at her door and Rose, her maid, peeked inside.
“Miss Elizabeth? Your aunt and your sisters are downstairs. They said you were expecting them. Oh, my . . .” Rose stopped abruptly as she saw her mistress lying pale and terrified in the bed.
“Rose. . . . I think I’m having the baby. You’d best send for the doctor.”
“Yes, ma’am.”
She rushed from the room to do as she’d been instructed, pausing only long enough to tell Aunt Blanche, Sarah, and Angel of her mistress’ condition. Moments later the three of them came hurrying into the bedroom to be with Elizabeth.
“Elizabeth! Are you all right?” Angel asked as she ran to her side.
“I think so.”
“Are you in pain?” Sarah worried.
“It’s not too bad yet. It comes and goes. That’s why I wasn’t sure for a long time that I was really in labor.” As a contraction seized her, Elizabeth grimaced and bit down on her lip.
“Oh, dear . . .” Blanche swooned weakly and staggered across the room to collapse in the wing chair.
“Where’s Michael?” Angel asked.
“Does he know?” Sarah put in.
“No, not yet. He’s at work.”
“Shouldn’t we send for him?” Sarah encouraged.
“Yes, please. I’d feel better if he were here. I need him.”
Angel didn’t like the idea of seeing Michael, but she was anxious to do whatever she could to make Elizabeth feel better. Hurrying off, she told the maid to summon her hated brother-in-law home.
When the doctor arrived, Angel, Sarah, and Blanche were ushered from the bedroom. They waited excitedly in the study downstairs for news that the babe had been born.
Michael finally arrived a little past eleven. He greeted them all with a kiss on the cheek and a celebratory hug. Sarah and Blanche were thrilled to see him, blinded as they always were by his charming demeanor. Angel, however, had the strangest urge to wipe off her cheek where he’d kissed her; and she did, the first time nobody was looking, scrubbing at the spot as if something vile had touched her there. She kept her distance from the man, taking the chair farthest from him and staying quiet as a mouse to avoid drawing his attention.
It was just past noon when the physician finally came downstairs to tell them the good news. Elizabeth had had a boy and the child was in perfect health. They were all ecstatic. No one more so than Michael.
“Thank God!” he practically shouted, pouring himself a double-shot of whiskey and downing it with gusto. In just a few years, the Windsor fortune would be his! Life was wonderful! He’d known this was going to work!
“How’s Elizabeth?” Angel was the first to a
sk.
“She’s fine. A little weak and tired, of course, but fine.”
Recovering himself, Michael spoke up, “Yes, I must see my wife.”
He set his tumbler aside and followed the physician from the room. He looked to all to be the delighted new father, and, in fact, he was. Elizabeth had given him the son he’d needed, and he was thrilled at the thought of the money that would be his in just ten short years. He entered the bedroom and fawned dramatically over her.
As desperate as Elizabeth was to reclaim Michael’s attentions, she allowed herself to believe his tender declarations. She convinced herself that he did love her and that he would soon return to her bed.
After watching Michael and Elizabeth together with their son, Blanche and Sarah were certain that their marriage had been made in heaven.
Elizabeth’s recovery was an easy one; yet, days passed and Michael made no move to return to their bedroom or her bed. The christening was held six weeks later, and the boy was named Christopher. He was a beautiful, happy infant, and Elizabeth’s life would have been perfect if only she’d had her husband’s complete devotion. She couldn’t bear to let her family know that all the love seemed to have gone out of her marriage. Insecure as she was, she believed she was to blame for the fact that Michael seldom came home at night and that, when he did, he sometimes carried the scent of another woman’s perfume on his clothing. Once Elizabeth had stopped at the bank to withdraw some funds and had found her account balance to be far lower than it should have been. Michael was spending the money her father had left her, but on what . . . on whom?
Again the memory of Angel’s words had returned to haunt Elizabeth, but she’d refused to admit she’d made a mistake. She still believed she loved Michael. She worked twice as hard at trying to please him, but met with little success. He came to her bed occasionally, but his lovemaking was almost mechanical. He was so coldly indifferent that she became more and more desperate to be loved.
Filled with so much love to give, Elizabeth sought fulfillment in loving her son. She devoted herself to the tiny babe, lavishing on him all the attention she longed to give her husband, all the love he didn’t want. Christopher became the center of her life. He meant the world to her. There was no one alive she cared about more. She would do anything for her child.
Nine Years Later
April, 1858
It was three in the morning. Unable to sleep, Elizabeth sat before the mirror on her vanity table staring at her reflection as she waited for her husband to come home. Her mood was somber as she studied her features. Lingering shadows of sadness haunted her eyes, and she knew why.
Elizabeth had long realized that Michael was not faithful to her. Recently, she’d heard the rumor that he was having a passionate affair with Mary Ann Warner, a woman she’d considered her best friend. The gossip hurt and reinforced what she’d already known—Michael was not the gentle, loving man she’d believed him to be when she’d married him.
At the thought of her dashingly handsome husband, bitter bile rose in Elizabeth’s throat. She’d learned through the years that he was heartless and vicious and totally self-serving. Though in public he played the part of the adoring husband and father, in private, he never showed any warmth or affection.
Elizabeth thought of his lovemaking and wondered what Mary Ann saw in him. Their marital encounters had been nothing more than cold, clinical matings. There was no tenderness involved when he came to her, and Michael always left her immediately after achieving his own satisfaction. He’d never cared about pleasing her. Many was the night that she’d cried hot, frustrated tears into her pillow.
Elizabeth had remained with Michael for the past ten years because she’d always hoped things would improve. It had taken her until now to realize that they never would. During the first few years of their marriage whenever she’d accidentally annoyed him, he’d actually been brutal in his response. Frightened, she’d tried even harder to make him happy, but she’d never succeeded. It seemed she could do nothing right.
Caught up in this vortex of misery and spinning ever downward and out of control, Elizabeth had seen no chance for escape. She had lived her life one day at a time, always striving to please, but always failing. Michael dominated her with savagery. His constant browbeating and belittling left her in a state of complete subjugation. She lost herself to his brutality, both physical and mental. She lived in fear, cowed by blows that were carefully placed so they would never show. Only her love for Christopher kept her sane. He was her life and her one joy.
Elizabeth stared at her mirror-image and, seeing the fire of determination burning in her eyes for the first time, knew that today had been the turning point in her life. What had happened that morning had been the final straw—the breaking point—the moment that forced her out of her prison of terror and into action. Until now, she’d been the only one physically hurt by Michael’s cruelty. But today, for no reason, he’d hit Christopher. Seeing her precious child abused cracked the pitiful, numbing shell she’d erected around herself. No one was going to harm her son. No one. She’d made up her mind then and there that Michael would never have another chance to hit him.
Firm unwavering resolve shone in Elizabeth’s eyes. She was going to break free of Michael’s strangling web of terror. She was going to take Christopher and they were going to leave him. They would walk away and never look back.
Righteous anger filled Elizabeth, and she clung to it for strength. The battered shreds of what little self-respect she had left filled her with an inner power she’d never experienced before. She hadn’t had the strength to save herself from Michael, but she would save Christopher. When Michael returned tonight, she was going to tell him that it was over, that they were leaving. She was going to insure her son’s happiness. In less than a year, Christopher would have his inheritance and everything would be fine.
The sound of someone coming up the walk brought Elizabeth to her feet. Michael! He was back! Taking a deep, steadying breath, she turned toward the bedroom door. She stood frozen with fear for an instant. Terror quaked through her. It took her a moment to get a grip on her emotions, but she finally did. Drawing heavily on her inner resolve, she prepared to face her misery and put an end to it. Terrified but determined, she went forth to save her son.
Michael was more than pleased with himself as he entered the house. He had won handily gaming at his club tonight, but the few hundred dollars he’d gleaned were nothing compared to the fortune he was going to come into in less than twelve months when Christopher turned ten. With the Windsor inheritance under his control, he would have everything he’d ever dreamed of—untold riches and a young, beautiful, passionate mistress. Michael smiled.
Thoughts of Mary Ann, his latest conquest, sent heat surging through him. She was a firebrand in bed, and he’d just spent the evening buried in the molten depths of her lithe body. It didn’t bother him in the least that she was his wife’s best friend. He thought women were put on Earth to be used by men as men saw fit, and he took great pleasure in doing just that. When he tired of them, he discarded them, and it was going to please him immensely to be rid of his bothersome wife as soon as the money situation was resolved. The past nearly ten years of marriage to her had been tedious in the extreme.
Michael considered that he might have enjoyed married life more if he’d waited and married Angel. She’d grown into one very beautiful young woman, and he would have greatly enjoyed tasting of her long-legged, full-breasted charms. She’d always been standoffish with him, too, and her attitude intrigued him. He liked a challenge in his carnal pursuits and she certainly presented one. Money, however, had always been his main goal, and while Angel might stir his blood, he hadn’t had the time to wait for her to grow up. He’d made do with Elizabeth; and she had, of course, provided him with the male heir he’d desired.
Michael let himself into the house and moved silently across the foyer into the study. After lighting the lamp on his desk top, he opened the liq
uor cabinet and poured himself a tumbler of his favorite whiskey. He still felt invigorated from his hours with Mary Ann and he knew sleep would be long in coming. He’d had only enough time to take one drink of the potent liquor when he heard someone at the doorway. Michael glanced up, frowning slightly at the intrusion. He was surprised to find Elizabeth standing there watching him, a strange look upon her face.
“You’re up awfully late, aren’t you?” Michael asked curtly.
“I’ve been waiting up so I could talk to you.” Elizabeth was so nervous that she kept her hands hidden within the folds of her dressing gown so he couldn’t see how badly they were trembling.
“Why didn’t you go to bed? You certainly look like you could use the rest. Besides, anything we have to say to each other could be said over breakfast.” He had no desire to speak with her—now or later.
“That’s true enough—if you were ever here at breakfast. But since you’re never around, either at breakfast or any other meal . . .”
“Don’t start that again.”
“You don’t have to worry, Michael. You won’t be putting up with me for much longer.”
Michael glanced up, his eyes narrowing in suspicion. “What are you talking about?”
“The reason I stayed up half the night waiting for you is because I wanted to be face-to-face with you when I told you—”
“Told me what?”
The white-hot memory of his striking Christopher gave Elizabeth the courage to go on.
“I’m leaving you, Michael,” she declared, boldly overcoming her own personal terror.
He stared at her in disbelief for a second and then laughed. It was a chilling sound that echoed evilly through the stillness of the house. “No, I don’t think so.”