Linnett wore a diaphanous nightgown of white silk, which kept sliding from her shoulders. It was newly made by Lottie as her wedding gift to Linnett. The material was of finest silk and, in the candle light, quite revealingly transparent. Lottie had sewn lace ruffles at the cuffs and neck. She was a good needlewoman, and although she had not had very much time to make the nightgown, she had made an excellent job of it.
Linnett lay abed, nervously awaiting the arrival of her new husband. She felt so nervous that she had to grit her teeth together to stop them from chattering. Yet there was an inner excitement, for at last she would share the secrets of the marriage bed. Linnett tried to relax, moving about only to still a moment later at the sound of the door opening. More candle light spilled into the room as John entered, softly closing the door behind him.
“Linnett?” John whispered into the shadowy room.
“Yes?” she queried softly.
“Lordy, but it is so dark in here! I shall light us some additional candles.”
Linnett could hear John as he rustled around looking for tapers.
“No, please don’t!” Linnett said, sitting up in alarm.
John went over to the bed and sat down next to her. He looked at her white face, and reaching out a finger, he stroked her pale cheek before letting his hand drop to her lap whereupon he took hold of her cold hand. He rubbed the back of her hand with his thumb while he watched her thoughtfully. “You are afraid.” He said it as a statement rather than a question, and Linnett nodded and hung her head. John reached out and lifted her chin with his finger.
“No, don’t pull away, let me look at you. You have no need to be afraid of me, Linnett. I am your husband, and as such, I shall love, cherish and protect you, until the day I die.”
Linnett started to speak, but John said, “Hush now. And hear me out,” reaching over and gently gathering her against his chest, his arms wrapped around her. “Your father wrote to me many months ago asking me to consider taking you to wife, but I could only remember you as a young child, and I worried about how an English girl gently bred would cope living in the Americas. The Colonies are quite unlike England; much of the land is wild, still untamed. Oh, it’s very beautiful, far more so, I think, than England, but it is not a safe and cosy country, no place for a delicate English rose. Anyhow, eventually under pressure, I came to look you over, more for your father’s sake than mine. I was very surprised to find I liked what I saw. You were strong, healthy and feisty!”
John paused. Linnett had suddenly gone rigid in his arms, and she was panting fast then she started to make a soft hissing sound before she said, “How dare you! Just as if I were some brood mare or... or a prize cow!”
She bounced off the bed, pulling away from him, her eyes blazing furiously. John laughed. “Your reaction now...it is exactly why I did marry you, courage and true fighting pioneer spirit!”
Linnett was completely nonplussed. John grinned and said, “I require that you grow out of your selfish and, if I may say so, somewhat childish behaviour; however, you are now my brave, beautiful and feisty wife, and I think you will cope with the rigors of the Colonies.” Whereupon he swiftly reached out and pulled her down onto his lap. John kept her arms pinned in, firmly, so that she would be unable to slap him if she was feeling so inclined; he lowered his head and kissed her.
Furiously, Linnett struggled. After all those unflattering things he had said about her, she just wanted to claw his eyes out! She needed to speak. She had things she wished to say to the beast! John’s lips were persistent and demanding. Linnett looked up into those silver grey eyes and saw his determination, and she quickly closed her own. After a while, all she could think about were the delicious feelings he was arousing in her treacherous body, which was responding to him despite herself.
Her limbs began to feel loose and languid, her breasts tingled, and she was acutely aware of her thinly clad bosom pressed against his open shirt front. His hand moved up to cup her breast and rub her pert nipple through the gossamer material of her nightgown. “My own darlin’ girl,” John murmured.
Linnett shivered. John rolled her over onto her back not breaking the kiss. When his tongue flicked at the inside of her lips, she sighed. He pulled up her gown, one hand on the firm swell of her breasts, rolling and squeezing her aching nipples. She arched her back and moaned inarticulately. She was softly compliant, open and trusting, and it was as if all that existed now were the wonderful sensations he created. She quivered under his questing fingers, his hands slowly exploring the soft slopes of her body, stroking, knowing. Linnett writhed under him as arousing shivers pulsed through her body. Finally, he slid his hand up between her thighs, his hand going to the heart of her newly awoken desires, that slippery cleft betwixt her legs.
John looked at his dark hand lying between those smooth thighs and at the golden mound of her sex and felt his shaft stiffen and fill to its fullest extent. It was a long time since he had been with a woman and never one as beautiful as his new bride. John hoped that he would be able to control the beast she awoke within him and take her as gently as she deserved on her wedding night. He let his fingers caress that sweet, wet divide, his fingers igniting an erotic rhythm within Linnett, who was overwhelmed by her body’s powerful response. Soon, she felt as though she was soaring, flying faster and faster.
John could wait no longer; the sight of his bride writhing with pleasure was more than his virile body could take. Slowly, he shifted Linnett off his lap and on to the bed, raising himself up until he was poised over her, his hands either side of her face, his thumbs caressing her soft cheeks. He whispered gruffly into her ear, “There is no way I can make this easy for you, my love; the first time is always bad for a woman, but next time... I promise will be different.”
The soaring sensation suddenly left her, leaving Linnett feeling confused and wanting. John’s weight pressed down upon her, replacing the sweet spiralling sensations with a forceful and intruding pain. “No!” Linnet cried out attempting to push herself up the bed and away from under him. “Stop, no, please no!” Linnett cried.
John held her shoulders firmly into the bed and with a powerful thrust from his hips he penetrated her. He felt her virgin flesh tear and pulled back, ready to thrust higher, pausing to allow her to become accustomed to the feel of his embedded shaft. Linnett gasped and dug her nails deep into his shoulders, not quite sure if she was pushing him away or pulling him to her. Nothing else , only the sensation of the two of them now joined at the hip with the alien feel of his swollen member embedded within her virgin flesh. John lowered his head and kissed her, waiting for Linnett to become accustomed to the feel of him, but in return she bit his lip deeply. With a quiet ferocity John pushed himself deep and hard within her, pounding towards his need to release.
For Linnett, it was a burning and stinging ordeal. It ended suddenly, with John stiffening as he gave a loud groan and slumped forward, lying still, his sudden dead weight a shock to her. Slowly, John relaxed and lay with his full body weight pressing down heavily on her. Linnett lay there sore, sticky and slightly sick…. how did women endure this? This was meant to be love? Those wonderful feelings that she had felt, they led only to this? She pushed at John’s inert body, wanting him away from her. She wanted to weep and to scold. John rolled off, murmuring her name sweetly, but Linnett turned on to her side and moved to the opposite edge of the bed. She pulled the covers tight up to her ears and curled into a ball.
John sighed heavily and moved so that he was curled around her stiff back. Putting an arm around her, he lifted the cascade of her hair and kissed her shoulder. “I know that I have hurt you, my love. I am sorry, but I can assure you, it will be different for you next time. It is always hard for a woman the first time. Sleep now, my sweet. We have an early start in the morning. Good night...Mrs. Foster.” John kissed Linnett’s unresponsive cheek, then yawned and settled himself; he promptly fell asleep.
Linnett lay curled into a ball, wishing her mother was sti
ll alive so she could go to her with her many unanswered questions. She lay silently weeping, listening to John’s deep, even breathing, until at last she too fell into an exhausted sleep.
When Linnett awoke, before she had even opened her eyes, she knew instinctively that she was alone in the bed. Rolling onto her back, she glanced around the room, and sure enough, there was no one there. It was early, dawn. Perhaps John had already left on his journey back to America. She hoped so. At least, unlike many other women, she would not have to endure THAT more than once or twice a year. There was a light tapping at the door and Lottie entered bearing a tray of breakfast things.
“Good morning, miss, I mean ma'am,” she said brightly. “Your husband bade me bring you a tray. Sir Thomas is up and dressed. He is going to travel to the port as well.”
She set the tray down on a small table, near a chair that was set by the fire. “I’ll just give the fire a rattle around and get it burning again, and you can sit here and get warm, it’s that chilly this morning!”
Linnett sat up in bed and shivered. So, her father intended to see John off from the port. No doubt he thought she would go to see John on his way and wanted to keep her company. Well, it was the least she could do; after all, he was her husband. After Linnett had breakfasted, she made her way to her own room to dress. She looked around her frowning. Lottie had tided everything away, and her room looked very bare.
“Lottie,” Linnett called. Lottie was in the little dressing room next door, fetching Linnett’s warm travelling dress. “Yes miss?” She came into the room carrying the heavy clothes.
“There was no need to clear my room; I won’t be staying in the Rose Room,” Linnett said, and took the matching cape from the top of the pile of clothes that Lottie held in her arms and laid it on the bed.
A deep voice called cheerily from the direction of the doorway, “What, not dressed yet? Your father is out in the coach waiting for us both! Incidentally, good morning!”
Linnett stood in her shift and looked sourly at her new husband. He leaned against the doorway with an odious grin on his face. John was dressed for travelling, in high leather boots of dark brown with tight fawn britches; a greatcoat was slung over one arm. Linnett, with outwardly cool demeanour, said, “Good morning to you, husband. If you would be so kind as to leave us in peace, I will be ready directly.”
John raised an eyebrow at her formality. “Very well, I will await you outside with your father.”
Hurriedly, Lottie arranged Linnett’s hair and dressed her. Linnett thanked her, kissed her briefly, and as she ran out of the room, called over her shoulder, “I’ll go riding later, Lottie, so leave my riding things out for me, would you?”
Lottie’s mouth dropped open, and she ran after her mistress, shouting, “Miss! Miss! What’s that? What d’you mean miss? Miss!”
What could Miss Linnett mean? She wouldn’t be going riding; she was off to America. After all, Lottie should know as she had supervised all Linnett’s belongings being packed in the trunks and sent onto the port. No doubt by now they were stowed aboard in their cabin. She tripped over Linnett’s discarded nightgown, the one she had spent so many nights sitting up and sewing. Lottie picked it up and began to weep. She held the soft gown to her face and rubbed her cheek against the smooth fabric.
“Oh my dear, I shall miss you so and no proper goodbye.” Poor Lottie sat down abruptly and wept.
Chapter 6
Climbing up the gangway onto The Tempest, Linnett clutched the rope support and looked down at the huge drop to the sea. The murky water of the harbour churned about between the harbour wall and the ship’s side. The ship swayed backwards and forwards, nearing the wall but never quite touching it. It creaked and groaned, moaning to itself.
Linnett shuddered. It was as if the ship were a live creature. She had never been to the port before; her father rightly supposed that it was not the place to take a young girl of gentle upbringing. The language and behaviour of the sailors were coarse and rough. Once on board the ship, Linnett looked around her with fascinated interest. There were men everywhere, scurrying around like ants, and each seemed to know exactly what he was about. Men shimmied up and down masts, others carried barrels aboard, and still others wound huge ropes, as thick as a man’s wrist; they called, swore and even sang to each other.
There was a sense of anticipatory excitement all around. Overhead, gulls wheeled, dipping and diving, their screaming calls adding to the noise and confusion. The captain was coming towards them and he waved jauntily, his progress somewhat hampered by men stopping to speak to him every few feet or so. Eventually, he reached them. He was a short man, with a large girth, and he was in his fortieth year. His face was clean-shaven, but he sported huge side whiskers, which looked startling not so much for their size as for their colour, a bright gingery red, as was the thick wiry hair on his head.
“My dear sirs, miss, excuse me, I mean Mrs. Foster! Captain Pettigrew at your service, ma’am, welcome aboard The Tempest! The weather is favouring us, yes indeed! Now, please, I insist you join me below. I have some fine brandy and a Madeira ready in anticipation of your arrival. Please do follow me! Follow me!”
He waved his arm expansively in the direction of the bridge and walked away from them in that direction, assuming they were obediently behind him. They all did their best to keep up but kept having to stop as the seamen ran across their path hampering their progress. They also had to avoid obstacles such as open hatchways, piles of rope, barrels of tar and supplies not yet stowed away.
The captain, obviously at home on his ship, leapt around these potential death traps with the grace and ease of a nimble but portly cat. Eventually, they arrived safely by his side, and the captain gestured to a small dark stairway leading down. “Ladies first!” he shouted genially.
Linnett took a firm hold of the rail and stepped down. She waited at the bottom of the stairs for the captain, whom she now recalled seeing at her wedding. He led them to a cabin, flinging the door open into a pleasant, if smallish, room. Linnett glanced around curiously. In one corner stood a large table or desk covered with charts, and on the side of this was a box with many rolled up maps, tightly packed together. Various strange brass instruments were dotted about on the table, along with quills and an ink stand. At the other end of the cabin, a table was laid with a white cloth. Set out on this were glasses and bottles, along with plates of small pasties and sweetmeats.
Linnett suddenly felt very hungry. The captain poured them all drinks and handed out round pewter plates. Linnett barely listened to the conversation so intent was she on eating pasties and sipping her Madeira wine. She realised that the men had all turned to look at her and that the Captain had spoken to her. “I am so sorry, Captain Pettigrew, could you repeat that please?”
“Of course, my dear. I asked if you had been to sea before.”
“Well, no, actually. Why?” Linnett asked curiously.
“Just wondered how your sea legs were, that’s all, m’dear. Still, we’ll soon know!” He winked and chuckled.
Linnett was surprised but not too concerned. Naturally, he assumes that I am returning with John to the colonies, she thought to herself. She was about to put him right on the matter when he suggested that he show them to the owner’s cabin. They all followed the captain out into the passage, and he led them down and away from the stairs. The passage was lit from oil lamps that hung from the ceiling; they swung gently to and fro with the ship’s gentle movement.
They turned right and came to a door. The captain stopped, withdrew a large key from his coat pocket and lent forward to unlock it. “Here we are, then. Now, anything you need, just let my first officer know, he’ll see to it. I will leave you to settle in. Dinner is early aboard ship; we eat at eight bells.”
He then turned to Linnett’s father, ‘Sir Thomas, your servant sir, we set sail in one hour so don’t get caught on board!” With another of his irrepressible chuckles the Captain bowed to Sir Thomas and left them alone. Jo
hn opened the door and they all entered the cabin. Sir Thomas coughed. “I think I shall leave you to unpack and get yourselves sorted. I’ll say my goodbyes now.” Alarmed, Linnett spun round to face her father. Had she heard correctly?
He said, “My dear, I wish you all the happiness in the world. God willing, we shall see each other again”
Her father took her in his arms in a great bear hug, holding her tightly against him. Linnett gasped, stuttering, “B-but, I am n-not leaving, Papa. I am coming home with you!”
Sir Thomas Wainwright gripped her arms firmly and looked into her face sternly. “No child, your place is at your husband’s side and that is where you will be….. now that is quite enough, Linnett!” he added, although feeling much pity as she started to protest. “You are married now and there is no more to be said, so kiss your father and let me remember you with pride. Stand bravely beside your husband and enjoy the adventure of a new life together.”
John stepped forward, placed his arm around Linnett’s waist, and solemnly said, “Be brave for your father, dearest, and do as he bids; you wouldn’t want his last memory of you to be a sad one.”
Linnett trembled and cried, “No, Papa, no! I cannot leave you! How can I leave? I may never see you again!” She flung herself forward into his arms, tormented and sobbing with disbelief, her hands clutching at his coat front.
Sir Thomas lifted his hand and stroked her hair, “My precious child, you know that you could return with me and I may die tomorrow. I am an old man, puss; if I should die, then what will become of you? John is a good man, and he will look after you, and God willing, you will give me many grandchildren who will come and visit their old Grandpapa! Life goes on my child...life goes on.”
His Spoilt Lady Page 6