An open meadow came into view, beautiful in the early morning light, and I thought it would made a romantic spot for a picnic someday.
"Is it safe to wander around?” I turned to face Nathan as I spoke. “I know you said you played in the woods as a child. Is there anything I should be wary of? I cannot wait to get out and explore later. I want to see everything."
I did a happy dance on the seat.
"You should be fine. Of course, even paradise has its snakes. Watch out for those. Water moccasins and copperheads love to be near water, and there is plenty of that around here, even during a drought. Very rarely, you might come across a rattlesnake. Just watch your step. Enjoy the beauty, but don't forget danger isn’t always in plain sight."
Chilled, I considered his words. Snakes did not sound like much fun at all. Perhaps I would stick to the beaten paths, and the driveway itself. I would save more adventuresome exploring for when Nathan could accompany me.
The driveway curved again. The oaks were even more prominent here, and spaced evenly, with purpose. Far in the distance, shrouded by the spooky morning fog, a three-story brick structure could be glimpsed.
At last, I was going to meet Peacock Alley. I had butterflies in my stomach.
Nathan continued speaking. "There she is! Hard to see in this fog, but no expense was spared in the construction. That was a time when architects and builders paid attention to the details, no matter how small. The front of the house faces west, towards the Mississippi River. You can't see the river from here, but I will drive you over one day. The oaks help shade the house from the stronger afternoon sun. The rear of the house faces east, obviously, so most of the gardens are back there to take advantage of the more gentle morning light." He pointed towards the east, helping me get my bearings.
His pride in his home was so evident; I couldn't help but feel proud, too. And to think this was also my home now! I had never been that interested in history in school. The stories the teachers told sounded so far away and long ago, but here history seemed like a living, breathing entity. The past definitely felt alive on this plantation.
I had never been one to believe in ghosts, but a place like this sparked my imagination. I couldn't help but wonder what spirits strolled the grounds at night, or wandered the halls of the stately building. I frowned at the fanciful thought.
Nathan mistook my silence for concern. "Don't worry, baby. The house is old, but it is more than comfortable. The architect added running hot and cold water, flush toilets, and gas lighting at a time when those conveniences were just a novelty. Later all the plumbing was updated, of course, and electrical wiring was added, although some of the gas lighting remains. I even have Wi-Fi."
His good mood was contagious. I smiled and hugged his arm close to me, shaking off my uncharacteristically dark thoughts.
“I can’t wait to see the inside. The outside is breathtaking!”
The car pulled to a stop at the impressive front porch. The driver opened the door to me, and I bounded out like an overeager puppy, tripping over my feet a little. Broad brick steps led up to a deep porch and double front doors. The doors opened, and an older woman with iron-gray hair dressed all in black stepped out.
"Good morning, Mother!" Nathan took my arm and led me up the steps towards the ominous figure in black. "I brought home an extra special souvenir from this trip."
His mother? Did she live here, too?
Another man came from the house and began collecting our bags.
"Mother, Maxwell, may I introduce to you, Darby Turner Randolph, my new bride."
I turned toward the man in greeting. Hadn’t he said Maxwell was his childhood friend?
The man with the suitcases was evidently Maxwell, and he and the driver stopped in their tracks and turned to Nathan with mild surprise. Maxwell nodded his head at us both, but Nathan's mother visibly flinched. She didn't look pleased at all to meet me. She toyed with her black pearls and looked me over from head to toe. If her pursed lips and upturned nose were any indication, she didn't like what she saw.
"Nathan, really, you and your odd sense of humor." She took a step closer and offered her cheek to him to be kissed.
"I assure you I'm not joking even the slightest bit." Nathan turned to me. "Darby, this is my mother, Penelope Wainwright Randolph. I'm sure she will expect you to call her Mother like I do."
I thought she looked more like Darth Vader than someone I would call Mother. Anyway, she appeared distressed that I might be brave enough to use that particular term of endearment, but I offered her a kiss on the cheek.
I inanely murmured, “It’s nice to meet you,” and I avoided calling her anything.
Why hadn’t Nathan wanted to call his mother and tell her about our wedding, the same way we called my mom?
We all started to walk into the house together, but Nathan surprised me by scooping me up again and carrying me over yet another threshold.
“Here you go, baby.” He set me down gently once we were inside, and I stood in the foyer gaping in amazement at the grandeur.
“Thank you.” My words were faint as the beauty of the house overcame me.
Two stunning staircases swooped with grace up to the next floor, one on each side of the entry. Marble slabs flowed underneath my feet, and a Baccarat crystal chandelier lit by gas illuminated the room in the weak morning light. I couldn't imagine just how much that chandelier weighed; it was incredible how massive it was in scale. Plaster frieze moldings made of mud, clay, horsehair, and moss covered the walls, depicting scenes from Greek mythology. The ceiling was covered with a beautiful, painted mural, showing a majestic river. Nathan noticed my gawking and pointed out these details and more.
I crossed the room and ran my hand over the fireplace mantle, admiring it’s beauty.
"Each room has its own fireplace, sometimes two fireplaces. The ballroom has eight. The mantles are all Italian hand-carved marble, the hearths are granite or brick, and most of the fireplaces still burn coal. A few have been converted to gas for convenience. The doorknobs are hand painted German Dresden porcelain." Nathan paused. His love for his home was evident. "I'm sorry. I'm probably boring you with a tedious history lesson."
"No, not at all. I love hearing you talk with such passion." My neck was starting to hurt as I leaned back to stare at the ceiling.
I turned to gaze up at him instead, and heat swept my body as I thought of other times he was passionate. Nathan cocked an eyebrow at me and grinned. I could tell by the glint in his eyes that he was having similar thoughts. For a moment, we were like two goofy high school kids in love.
Mother cleared her throat and somehow made the sound seem contemptuous. "I'm sure the child is familiar with tedious history lessons. After all, she appears to still be school aged."
Nathan laughed. "She's all grown up, Mother. I assure you."
Feeling awkward, I changed the subject back to the house. "I bet this place is magical in the winter with snow on the ground, and all the fireplaces blazing at once. I can't wait to see it for myself."
"Well, we get very little snow. Mostly just some ice once or twice a winter, with an occasional dusting of snow. However, it does get cold, and we do like to get all the fireplaces going to warm the house. It's not the only source of heat anymore, but it is the most romantic way to chase the chill away." He smiled down at me.
I was already eagerly looking forward to a winter hike in the cold, followed by hot chocolate in front of a fireplace with Nathan. I could see us, walking hand in hand over dead grass made crunchy by a thin coating of ice. We would walk until we were freezing and just couldn't stand the cold anymore. Then we go indoors and strip off our winter things, put on warm and cozy pajamas, and snuggle together with our hot drinks. Preferably, in private, with no sign of Mother.
I stepped forward and ran my hand over the smooth wood of the banister. "The staircases are so dramatic. It's easy to imagine two hundred years ago. Young ladies in flowing dresses descending to greet their gue
sts."
"I told you how the architect paid attention to the little details, remember? The stairs on the left were for ladies only. It wasn't proper for a man to climb the stairs behind a woman and maybe get a glimpse of her ankles, so men used the stairs on the right.” He pointed to a heavy metal object. “See? The boot scraper is on the right to indicate that the men should go that way."
Fascinated, I started to ask for more details when Nathan's cell phone began ringing. He looked down at it and frowned. "I'm afraid business is calling me back to reality. I'm sure Mother will give you a tour of the house. Make yourself at home, and I'll see you at lunch." He dropped an absentminded kiss on my lips and strode away to an unknown destination. His library, perhaps?
Mother looked at me with little enthusiasm. "I do not know what plan you orchestrated to get my son to marry you. Did you claim to be pregnant, perhaps?"
I recoiled, offended.
“We have only known each other a short time. I wouldn’t know if I were pregnant.” I tried to say that with dignity, but I was afraid all I did was call attention to the whirlwind nature of our romance.
She had such an oddly formal way of speaking, and ice dripped from each word. "It simply does not matter at this point. I doubt you will be here when the fireplaces are lit this winter."
And with that little stab at me, she walked out of the foyer in a different direction than Nathan. Stunned, I watched her walk away. What a terrible start for the two of us. I couldn't help but be disappointed by her reaction to me. She was no more thrilled to see me than my mother was to see Nathan.
I felt sad because she reminded me of an even colder version of my own mother.
A throat cleared behind me, interrupting my musings.
Maxwell, who seemed to be some sort of modern-day butler maybe, spoke for the first time. "It is a pleasure to meet you, Mrs. Randolph."
"Oh, just Darby, please." I smiled, grateful for his pleasantries. I was glad someone was making an effort to be welcoming.
He looked doubtful at calling me by my first name. "Let me show you around the house."
"Oh, that's ok. I will just wander around on my own. I don't want to be a bother to anyone."
Even though I had just arrived, I was starting to feel emotional overload kicking in. Mother's icy reception and the sheer scale of the house made me crave some time alone to reset. I would enjoy exploring the house on my own.
Maxwell stepped over to a small table by the front doors and picked up a brochure from a stack there. "We give tours of the house two days a week. Here is a brief history of the place, and it will give you an idea of the purpose of each room. It's a confusing maze if you don't have some sort of guide."
I took the brochure with gratitude. "Thank you, Maxwell."
"Well, if you are sure, ma'am, that you don't need a tour, I'm going to check that the pecan trees are getting watered this morning. It hasn't rained properly in weeks, and that doesn't bode well for our Thanksgiving pies." He winked at me as he turned to go.
He, too, disappeared from the foyer, going in yet another direction than both mother and son.
I guess I was alone for my tour. That was perfectly okay with me.
Nine
It did not take me long to get lost. The house was huge, with too many rooms to count, and twisting, confusing corridors branched off in all directions. The house was also incredible. Despite its massive scale and its formidable history, I fell in love with it. I could easily see how with just a few simple touches, I could make this my home forever. What it lacked was family photographs, and that sense of personalization. That was an easy fix.
I looked forward to taking selfies with Nathan, and maybe displaying them along with a few of my paintings. When I was little and my mother started working all the time, I occupied myself with coloring books. Later, I graduated to sketching, and then finally, painting. I didn't fancy myself a hugely talented artist, but I did like to paint, and I had one or two favorite pieces that I would have shipped here from Silver Falls. Maybe I could even find a cozy corner full of light and set it up as my art studio.
Maxwell's brochure helped me tremendously. I went from room to room, reading from the glossy handout and gawking like a tourist. I even took a picture or two with my phone to send to my friends. They weren't going to believe this place!
The rooms all had names, like the Long Gallery filled with old landscapes and portraits of Nathan’s ancestors. The Stag Room was filled with old hunting conquests, such as the dusty deer heads mounted all over. That room was little creepy, and I didn’t linger for long.
I made my way down the hallway to the next room. I quickly realized it was the formal dining room, and I fell in love with it on first sight. I turned in slow circles to take in the elaborate murals on the walls. Gardenias featured prominently. Apparently, it was some long-dead great, great grandmother's favorite flower, and was incorporated in the original furniture, paintings, and even on the banisters. Peacocks, too, showed up repeatedly in the design of the house, and I enjoyed finding those clever references in each room.
I wandered the first floor alone and hadn't yet made my way upstairs when I noticed a small, walled garden. I went out and found beautiful, fragrant flowers, and another door that led to a tiny chapel. A quick peek into the chapel revealed worn, polished pews, and numerous elaborate stained glass windows. I perched on one of the old pews, and ran my hand along the shiny wood. This would be a great place to just sit and be quiet with my thoughts.
Consulting the brochure, I found something called the Fountain Court that contained the formal rose gardens in addition to a massive fountain, and the Clock Court, which true to its name held a giant clock on one of its brick walls. That is where Nate found me.
"Are you having fun exploring the house, Darby?"
Jumping, I turned around, excited. "Oh, yes, Nate! This place is incredible. I've been exploring for at least an hour, and I don't think I've seen half the house yet."
"This is the Clock Court." He gestured around at the massive courtyard, with its brick pavers. "The Clock Court was for suitors to visit the ladies of Peacock Alley. The clock was a joke by the founder of the estate. He said he didn't want suitors overstaying their welcome with his daughters."
I laughed in delight at his story. “I can’t imagine any father wanting his daughters’ boyfriends hanging around.”
"We have lots of parties here. The formal ballroom is just over there, and my library has an entrance here." He indicated with his hand for me to walk with him.
We stepped from the heat into the much cooler library. It was even bigger than I had imagined, and books lined every wall from floor to ceiling. Nathan's desk featured prominently in the middle of the room. There were several seating areas containing dark leather furniture. A pool table was on one side, and there was a chess set, and a dartboard. Heavy oriental rugs covered the wooden floors. It was definitely a man's room, a highly sophisticated version of a man cave. I caught a faint whiff of cigar smoke and saw Nathan's favorite whiskey in a crystal decanter off to one side on a massive walnut sideboard. I could easily imagine him here, smoking and drinking with friends while having a late night discussion about politics.
I saw papers spread across his desk. "I didn't mean to disturb you while you were working."
"This room is never off limits to you. You are always welcome here, Mrs. Randolph."
I flushed with pleasure at his words. I liked being called Mrs. Randolph. He came closer and ran a finger down my cheek.
"In fact, you are particularly welcome right now." He was so bold that he squeezed my breasts with both hands, and I gasped.
"Don't be shy, Mrs. Randolph. I need you naked and ready to fuck." Nathan said these shocking words in a casual, off-hand kind of way.
"Now? Here?" My words were a little breathless in my surprise.
I was almost in a panic. I wanted to make the house feel like home, but I was a little intimidated about stripping bare in the middle of
all this majestic grandeur. I remembered the paintings of Nathan’s ancestors I had studied earlier. There were a couple of portraits in this room, too. I felt like the eyes of those long dead were watching me, and passing judgment on my actions.
"Yes. Definitely now. Definitely here." He raised one arrogant eyebrow at me.
"Nate, I don't think this is a good idea..." My voice trailed off.
Without warning, he snatched me up and carried me to the big chair behind his desk. He positioned me on my stomach over his lap. I knew what was coming, and I was scared and delighted all at once. He pulled my yoga pants down to my ankles, taking my panties down at the same time. Bare and exposed, I squirmed and braced my hands against the floor.
Smack! Smack! SMACK! The blows came hard and in quick succession. If ghosts were watching, they were undoubtedly scandalized.
"Nate, please! I'm sorry!" I protested. It hurt, but I had the urge to giggle, too.
"What did I tell you happened to bad girls? What happens in this library?" Nathan’s voice was stern, and his tone stopped my giggles.
"They get spanked, with their panties off." I sounded like a little girl.
I squirmed to get free, but I think I liked being his bad girl. From virgin to pervert, in less than one day.
"Be still. When you married me, you promised to obey."
He continued spanking me, and I was grateful that the size of the house would likely prevent anyone from overhearing. I grew wetter with every blow. Nathan stopped long enough to run his fingers between my legs. It didn’t take him long to discover how wet I was, and I blushed at my reaction. Nathan continued with his punishment without comment.
After twenty spanks, he pulled me upright into his lap. He was breathing heavily, and I was crying hard. He comforted me by rubbing my back with the same damn hand that spanked me. The gentle sensation curled my toes. Why did that turn me on even further? He then wiped my tears away before stripping me naked, and unzipping his pants. I was so aroused that I was shaking.
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