Coulson's Wife (The Coulson Series)

by Anna J. McIntyre

  “This is it!” William called out cheerfully, pulling into a long brick paved driveway. It led to an impressive three-storied mansion situated some distance from the street, which afforded the home’s residents a measure of privacy.

  Mary Ellen’s eyes widened at the sight. I’m going to live here? While her family did not live in poverty as did many of her neighbors in Virginia, and the Brownings were considered prominent members of their small community, seeing Coulson’s estate made her feel like one of her backwoods neighbors. She was terrified.

  • • • •

  William stopped the car and glanced in the back seat where Mary Ellen was sitting. Her expression of sheer terror momentarily stunned him. He couldn’t help but feel sorry for the poor girl. Within an hour, she would be married to Randall Coulson and her aunt would be taken back to the train station, leaving her all alone. He knew Randall would not hurt her, but he wasn’t confident the man would use much finesse claiming his marital rights when he was alone with his bride.

  Rachel immediately exited the car and wandered over to a side garden to admire the colorful blossoms while her niece continued to sit in the backseat. She assumed Mary Ellen was waiting for William to open the car door and Rachel wasn’t about to waste her day by sitting in the passenger seat a moment longer, since her time in Philadelphia was limited.

  William turned around in his seat and faced Mary Ellen, who sat quietly, staring at the intimidating estate.

  “It’s going to be all right,” William assured her, his voice soft and soothing. Mary Ellen’s gaze flashed up into his face; she hadn’t realized he had been staring at her. The two sat together in the parked vehicle.

  “Am I?” she asked, her voice low and steady.

  “I imagine you’re nervous. I understand this engagement was rather—sudden.”

  “No one asked me if I wanted to marry Mr. Coulson.” The moment she said the words she regretted them.

  “Please don’t tell him I said that!” she blurted, sounding frantic. William reached over the seat and patted her hand.

  “I promise, I won’t say anything. But I already suspected that. You know, if you really don’t want to do this, I can take you back to the station and buy you a ticket home.”

  “When you said it’s going to be okay, what did you mean?”

  “I know Randall can be a bit intimidating, but he’s not a bad man. I don’t believe he would ever physically hurt you, he isn’t like that. But I’ll warn you, he tends to say exactly what he thinks, even if it’s something that might hurt someone’s feelings and is best left unsaid.”

  Mary Ellen didn’t respond immediately. Finally she took a deep breath and seemed to relax.

  “So if I ask him how he likes a new dress, he won’t necessarily flatter me?” she asked with a shy smile.

  “No, I definitely would not anticipate much flattering from your new husband—even if he finds your dress attractive.” William chuckled. He opened his car door and got out, then helped Mary Ellen from the vehicle.

  “But I promise to shower flattery on you when I come to visit—and I am often here.”

  “Oh my, but what will my husband think?” Mary Ellen teased, too naïve to realize she was flirting with her fiancé’s attractive business partner.

  “Then we won’t tell him, it will be our secret.” William laughed, fully aware that he was flirting with the pretty, young and engaged Miss Mary Ellen Browning.

  Chapter Four

  “How 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 fi
ne 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—instead 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?

  Chapter Five

  “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.”