The Winter Promise

by Rosie Goodwin

  The main course was beef bourguignon followed by a very light chocolate soufflé, and by the time she had finished, Opal felt as if she might burst. Henry had had two helpings of everything, which he’d washed down with copious glasses of wine, and she wondered if there was to be a repeat of the night before. Hopefully he would be so drunk by the time they went upstairs that he would fall straight to sleep again.

  While the maid cleared the pots from the table, they went to sit on a small veranda that led off the dining room while they waited for their coffee to be served and Opal instantly fell in love with the view. The chateau was perched on the side of a hill overlooking the sea and she was sure she had never seen anything so pretty. The moon made the waves look as if they had been sprinkled with diamond dust.

  Seeing her expression, Henry smiled. ‘You approve of my choice?’

  ‘Oh yes, it’s just beautiful here.’ She couldn’t lie and felt quite guilty when he looked inordinately pleased. Perhaps she was being too hard on him. After all, he had never shown her anything but kindness and he wasn’t a bad-looking man. Perhaps she should try a little harder to fall in love with him. Her thoughts were interrupted when the same little maid, who introduced herself as Sophia, appeared with their coffee on a tray.

  ‘Is very lovely here, yes, madame?’

  ‘Oh yes.’ Opal smiled at her and after bobbing her knee, which made Opal blush, the girl disappeared back the way she had come, leaving the newly-weds alone again.

  Opal fiddled with the cups and poured the coffee, and as she handed Henry his he caught her hand tenderly and told her, ‘You’ve made me a very happy man, my lovely Opal. I think we shall be very happy together indeed.’

  ‘I hope so,’ she responded, meaning it, but her heart was hammering again and she fell silent as she stared at the silver waves crashing on to the sand below. She had had two glasses of wine, hoping it would help her relax, and although she was far from drunk, thankfully it had certainly helped.

  ‘Perhaps you would like to go to our room and get changed before I join you?’ Henry suggested when they had drained the coffee pot.

  Blushing prettily, Opal nodded and made her way upstairs.

  Once in the privacy of their room she washed hurriedly in the warm water that Sophia had left for her and, pulling the pins from her hair, she brushed it and slid into the soft lawn, lace-trimmed nightdress that had been a wedding present from her mother-in-law, before jumping into bed and pulling the thin blankets up to her chin.

  The sound of the waves breaking on the beach below her was soothing, but when she heard Henry’s footfalls on the landing outside her heart began to race. The smell of whisky hit her as Henry entered the room and Opal realised that he had been drinking heavily again while she was upstairs.

  He stared at her for a moment, then began to undress, dropping his clothes in an untidy heap on the floor. Deeply embarrassed, she turned her head to stare at the window so she wouldn’t have to look at his flabby stomach.

  ‘Opal, come here.’ Reluctantly she sat up and blushed, as she saw him there with his manhood standing to attention. She had never seen a completely naked man before and she began to tremble. ‘Come here!’ he snapped, growing impatient.

  On legs that had turned to jelly, she slowly swung her legs out of the bed and crossed the floor to stand in front of him and, before she knew what was happening, his hand snaked out and tore her nightdress from the neck to her waist, exposing her breasts. She gasped in fear, but didn’t have time to react before he instructed, ‘Get it off!’ His voice came out as a growl and too afraid to do anything else, Opal slipped her arms free and allowed the ruined gown to slide to the floor.

  Humiliation coursed through her as she saw him run his tongue across his lips. His hand shot out and he grabbed one of her breasts brutally, making her cry out. ‘Turn around . . . I want to get a good look at you.’

  Opal slowly turned as his hands nipped and stroked at her body. She felt as if she were caught in the grip of a nightmare, but in fact, the nightmare was barely beginning. ‘Now get back on the bed.’ His hand was rubbing at his penis and tears burned at the back of her eyes as she slowly did as she was told.

  She tried to pull the sheet over her but he tore it savagely away and suddenly she didn’t recognise him anymore. ‘You’re my wife,’ he spat. ‘And if I want to look at you, I shall.’ And then he was on top of her, sucking and biting at her tender breasts like a frenzied animal. She could feel his penis, hot and erect against her stomach.

  ‘P-please . . .’ she whimpered, but it was as if he couldn’t hear her as he reached down and roughly threw her legs apart – and then he was thrusting himself inside her, and pain ripped through her as he began to buck and rear up and down. She was openly crying now. This was nothing like she had imagined it would be, and the pain was such that she was sure he was going to kill her.

  When she was sure that she couldn’t bear it anymore, he suddenly froze and made a feral sound deep in his throat, then collapsed on top of her. She lay quite still, terrified he would do it again. But he seemed to be spent, so she managed to push him off her and was horrified to see that he was asleep, his flaccid penis lying limp now.

  With a sob, she rolled off the bed and crossed to the washstand. She felt battered and bruised as she took a flannel and began to wash between her legs and every other inch of her that he had touched. Yet even as she did it, she knew that she would never feel clean again, even if she was to soak in hot water for a month. Already bruises were beginning to show on her breasts and she was so sore down below that even the cooling water stung. Again and again she washed herself. Then, crossing to the drawers, she took out another nightdress and slid it on, keeping a wary eye on Henry the whole time. She was too afraid to climb back into bed, so after hiding the torn nightgown in her valise, she crossed to the chair by the window and there she spent a restless night, alternately catnapping and keeping a watchful eye on her new husband.

  She woke when Sophia tapped on the door the next morning. She had brought the newly-weds breakfast in bed, so Opal hastily donned her dressing robe and made sure that Henry was decently covered before letting her in.

  ‘Good morning, madame.’ Sophia wheeled in a trolley, just as Henry made a loud snorting noise and opened his eyes.

  ‘Ah, excellent, food.’ He smiled as if nothing untoward had happened the night before.

  Sophia wheeled the trolley closer to the window and after bobbing her knee she left, leaving Opal to pour the tea.

  ‘Sleep well, did you, my dear?’ Henry clambered out of bed stark naked and came to sit beside her, making Opal blush and avert her eyes. ‘What would you like to do today? I thought we might do a little sightseeing?’ His hand snaked out to squeeze her breast through the thin material of her nightgown making her flinch away from him and he frowned. ‘What’s wrong? Are you not feeling well?’ he asked, beginning to load his plate with slices of a long baguette, still hot from the oven. There were dishes of butter, jam, honey and syrup to spread on it. There was also a jug of grapefruit juice and another of freshly squeezed orange juice, and Opal was surprised that the French breakfast was so different to the English ones.

  ‘I . . . I am quite well,’ she forced herself to say. ‘But last night . . . you were very brutal with me.’

  ‘Poppycock,’ he answered unfeelingly. ‘Sex is a normal part of married life.’

  ‘I agree, but does it have to be so . . . so rough?’

  He scowled as he rammed another piece of bread into his mouth, and she shuddered as jam ran down into his neatly trimmed beard. This was a side of him she had never seen before; had she have done, she knew she would never have married him, and already she was deeply regretting it.

  Suddenly his smile was back in place and, reaching out, he patted her hand. ‘I apologise if I was a little too rough with you, my love. I can only blame the fact that I was so intent on making you mine, I gave no thought to your feelings. It will be differ
ent in the future, I promise.’

  Opal stared bleakly out of the window, praying that he was telling the truth, for she knew that if he wasn’t there was no way she could stay with him, even if her leaving caused a scandal.

  After breakfast they dressed and left the house to stroll around and acquaint themselves with their surroundings. At the bottom of the lawned garden, there were deep, stone steps that led down to the beach and as Opal stared in awe at the rolling waves, she was happy again for a time. She had never seen the sea before and was as excited as a child. ‘I just never realised it was so . . . so . . . immense . . . and so . . . so blue!’

  He laughed as he tucked her arm into his, and they strolled along the beach with Opal bending now and again to examine the shells that the sea had washed up.

  ‘I have a carriage at our disposal for the whole of the time we are here, so we could perhaps go for a ride out into the countryside this afternoon, if you wish . . . Unless you would rather spend the time in our room?’ he added suggestively.

  ‘Oh no . . . no, a ride would be lovely,’ Opal told him, her words almost tripping over each other.

  He chuckled, and for the next half an hour they walked in silence, before climbing back up the steps to the chateau where they found hot chocolate and croissants waiting for them, and once again Henry ate like a pig.

  ‘Cook wishes to know if you will be requiring lunch?’ Sophia said when she popped her head round the door, but Henry shook his head.

  ‘Thank you but no. We shall eat out, but you could have the carriage brought round for us.’

  ‘I shall take you to visit a vineyard while we are here,’ Henry told her as they clip-clopped along in the carriage. ‘And there you will see how wine is made.’

  Opal nodded, smiling again and almost forgetting the indignities of the night before for a time.

  They visited a tiny town where market stalls were set out along the main street, and Opal wandered amongst them, stopping to exclaim over a little jewellery box that was made entirely of shells from the beach. ‘Oh, look, Henry, it even has a little hinged lid,’ she said, laughing as she examined it. The next second Henry was haggling in French with the stallholder and once they’d finally agreed on a price, he handed it to her.

  She was thrilled. ‘Thank you, I shall treasure it.’ She tucked it safely away in her bag, listening to the stallholders shouting their wares and revelling in the atmosphere of the place.

  At lunchtime, they visited a small restaurant where they enjoyed a light lunch.

  ‘Won’t you try the snails? They are a French delicacy,’ Henry encouraged, but Opal grimaced and shook her head.

  After last night, she was tired, as well as being sore, but she somehow kept her smile in place. She knew she had to try to make her marriage work. After all, she was lucky compared to many of the girls from where she had come from. Most of them were married at sixteen and had a baby every year, making them old before their time. They frequently had no money for rent or food, and yet here was she, married to a very wealthy man, honeymooning in France. She now wore fine clothes and would never have to worry about where the next meal was coming from again.

  Yet for all that, as she thought back to the tiny cottage in Rapper’s Hole where she had briefly lived with Charlie, Jack and Susie, she knew in her heart that she would have given up everything to be able to go back and have that time with them over again.

  Still, I am Mrs Henry King now, she told herself and a saying of her mother’s came to mind, ‘You’ve made your bed and now you must lie in it!’

  And lie in it she would, for better or for worse.

  The day passed pleasantly, but once they returned to the chateau for their evening meal, Opal began to dread the night ahead.

  By the time she went to their room to get changed, her stomach was in a knot, but she had made a decision. She had married Henry and even though she didn’t love him, she was determined to be the best wife that she could be. But that didn’t mean she would allow him to continue to hurt and abuse her, and she realised that if there was to be any chance of the marriage working, she must let him know how she felt. And so that evening when he followed her upstairs, he found her sitting in a chair at the side of the bed with a determined expression on her face.

  His eyes instantly glazed over with lust as he saw the outline of her breasts through the thin nightgown she was wearing, and he began to throw off his clothes.

  As he approached her, she rose and faced him squarely. ‘I’m sorry, Henry, but I feel I should tell you I have no intention of letting you treat me as you did last night!’

  ‘What?’ Shock registered on his face. ‘But you are my wife and you should do my bidding!’

  ‘And I shall,’ she assured him. ‘But I refuse to let you treat me like some street woman whose services you have paid for! As your wife I deserve a little respect.’

  An ugly scowl appeared on his face. It appeared that his innocent little wife knew more about life than he had given her credit for.

  ‘You will submit to my demands when and if I wish you to,’ he ground out. ‘Just remember I saved you from the gutter, girl. You’re just a nothing from Rapper’s Hole.’

  ‘I may well be, but I still have my pride,’ she shot back indignantly. Could he have known it, their marriage was doomed from that moment on, and she would never forgive him for what he had said. She climbed beneath the sheets and stared at him defiantly. ‘Now you may have your way, but I warn you, if you attempt to treat me like you did last night again, I shall fight you with every ounce of strength I have.’

  He was so flabbergasted that his mouth hung open for a moment – but then, snatching up his clothes, he began to dress. ‘I think I may go down and have a drink. And don’t worry, I shall not be troubling you tonight.’

  ‘As you wish.’

  He left the room, slamming the door so loudly behind him that it danced on its hinges – and only then did Opal give way to her emotions as she began to tremble. Tears slid down her cheeks and soaked into the pillow as she realised that she was clearly not the young woman Henry had thought her to be. He had obviously thought she would be so grateful to him for saving her from poverty that he could treat her any way he wished, but she had too much spirit to allow that to happen. She had hoped she would grow to love him in time, but now she knew this would never happen and she sobbed as she thought of the loveless life that lay ahead of her.

  She thought again of the family: her parents, Charlie and Jack were gone forever; all she had left were her memories of them now. But there was still a slim chance that one day she might find Susie again and this would keep her strong.

  Chapter Thirty-Five

  At last the honeymoon was over and, as the carriage pulled up in front of Henry’s house, Opal stifled a sigh of relief; at least she was back on home ground now. Thankfully, there had been no repeat of what had happened in the bedroom on their first night together, and although Henry had claimed his rights, he had been much gentler and she had been able to lie there submissively and bear it.

  Now he climbed from the coach and, after instructing the driver to unload their luggage, he helped Opal down the steps and to the front door.

  The staff were waiting to greet them in the hallway and Opal immediately noticed the set look on Mrs Wood’s face.

  ‘Welcome home, sir . . . madam.’

  ‘Mrs Wood.’ Opal inclined her head. It was obvious that she was not welcome there, at least not by the housekeeper, if her face was anything to go by; but as Henry had soon discovered, she wasn’t as subservient as he had thought, and Mrs Wood would have to discover that too. She was the new mistress of the house and the woman would just have to accept it.

  ‘Could you see that our cases are taken up to our room and unpacked, Mrs Wood?’ Opal said, as she took off her gloves and hat and handed them to the maid. ‘And then my husband and I shall have tea in the drawing room.’

  Mrs Wood looked so angry that
Opal feared she might explode, but she made no comment as she bobbed her knee and instructed the maid to do as her new mistress had asked.

  ‘Oh, and perhaps we could have some sandwiches too? We missed lunch travelling, so we’ll have our dinner early this evening. The sandwiches will keep us going until then.’

  The housekeeper gulped and hurried away to organise it, and Opal went into the drawing room, closely followed by Henry, who was grinning.

  ‘You might want to go a little easy on Mrs Wood,’ he suggested. ‘She has run this house for many years and may find it a little difficult to hand the reins over to a new mistress.’

  Opal shrugged. ‘Mrs Wood must know her place,’ she said shortly. ‘If I am to be mistress here, she must get used to taking her orders from me. If she cannot do that, then she will have to look for another position.’

  In the kitchen, the startled cook glanced up from the evening meal she was preparing as Mrs Wood stormed in.

  ‘Tea and sandwiches, if you please, Cook. By order of . . . Her Ladyship!’ Mrs Wood’s face was red with temper. ‘The jumped-up little trollop! Who does she think she is coming here into my house throwing her orders about!’

  The cook gave a wry grin as she lifted the kettle on to the range. ‘I take it they’re back then?’

  ‘Oh, they’re back all right.’ Mrs Wood thumped the table. ‘Though I wouldn’t like to hazard a guess as to how the honeymoon has gone. She’s as white as a sheet and there are bags big enough to do your shopping in under her eyes – though it hasn’t stopped her being bossy and throwing her weight around!’

  ‘Hm, well happen the lass is just finding her feet,’ Cook commented innocently. ‘The thought of running a big house like this must be a bit daunting for her.’

  ‘Huh! I run this house,’ Mrs Wood ground out through clenched teeth. ‘I have everything running like clockwork, so why should she want to interfere? The last Mrs King was quite happy to leave everything to me.’