by Sarah Winn
As if he’d been waiting for Gerald’s arrival, Mr. Moore appeared, carrying the cane. “Thought you might be needing this, Captain.”
Gerald nodded, and reached for it. He thanked Jim for taking care of Phantom and hobbled into the house. Ellen waited in the hallway with a censoring look on her face. “I have a hot bath prepared, if you can make it up the stairs.”
The idea of having his wife assist him with a bath gave Gerald the determination he needed to limp up the stairs. But by the time he’d gotten to the bathing room and started removing his clothes, Mr. Moore arrived with buckets of hot water, and Ellen carried Gerald’s clothes from the room, leaving Mr. Moore to help Gerald into the tub. When it came time to lift the right leg into the tub and support his weight on the left one, Gerald had to admit he was glad to have Mr. Moore’s stocky figure to lean on, but Ellen’s continued absence, dashed his hopes for a bit of husband and wife playtime in the tub.
Then she re-entered the room, carrying his nightshirt. Mr. Moore stepped away and Ellen knelt beside the tub, lathered a wash cloth, and began to rub it over his back. If Gerald had been a cat, he would have purred. She continued soaping and rinsing his body and arm and stump and legs and even between his toes.
The soothing effects of the bath soon blurred into excitement over her nearness, until she suddenly dropped the cloth over his now protruding cock and said, “If there’s anything else you want washed, you can do it yourself.” She tilted her head at an odd angle to remind him that Mr. Moore was waiting in the hallway to help him out of the tub.
Gerald could not suppress a throaty chuckle as he said, “Yes, ma’am.”
Ellen left his side, and Mr. Moore returned. In a short while, Gerald was in his nightshirt, back in his room, and stretched out on the freshly made bed. He was relaxing his way toward a nap, when pounding footsteps indicated Toby had finished his dinner and was coming to say goodnight. The boy bounded into the room and climbed onto the bed without an invitation. He politely asked Gerald how he was feeling, but as soon as possible, Toby launched into a description of his riding lesson with Mr. Sam. The older man had obviously impressed the boy with how many things there were to learn about riding and had made him eager to do so.
Toby finally took a deep breath before saying, “And Mr. Sam says I can have a lesson any day that he is not busy with other students, if you will let me.”
“I think that’s a good idea,” Gerald said.
Toby beamed at him.
Ellen spoke up, “Time for you to go to bed, young man. Kiss the Captain goodnight.”
Gerald held his breath, thinking it was too soon for a show of affection from the boy, but Toby leaned toward him with a smile and lightly pressed his lips against his step-father’s cheek. Thankfully, Ellen fastened her attention on getting Toby off the bed and into his room across the hallway, so Gerald had time to blink away a threatening tear.
There was much more to being a father than he had thought—more than just the responsibility. Caring about a small child could bring a parent pleasure and fear. Could Gerald met the challenge and give the child all the advantages he deserved in life?
And what of the mother? Their first time in bed had not been a resounding success. While Gerald had achieved his sexual release, he did not think Ellen had. Was her limited reaction due to first night jitters, or did her love for Philip make it impossible for her to react fully with another man? Had Gerald been a fool to think he could be an adequate substitute for the man she really loved?
But what could he do about it now? Good or bad, last night they had consummated their vows. They were legally and morally bound to each other. Maybe Ellen didn’t care. Maybe marriage to him was just a way to assure her son and herself a secure home, so they wouldn’t have to live off the charity of relatives. But he cared. He didn’t like the idea that sex with him would be nothing more to her than paying rent.
Was he being too hasty about this? As a young man about town, he’d been with experienced women who did not hesitate to tell him how to improve their experience. In fact, now that he thought about it, those women had not been in love with him either, but those unions had been pleasurable for both parties. He should not give up on his relationship with Ellen without giving her his best effort.
* * * *
As she tucked Toby into his bed, Ellen thought about how moved Gerald had seemed by Toby’s goodnight kiss. He must truly care for the boy. Did he have genuine feelings for her, too? Of course, there were a variety of relationships that could exist between a grown man and woman. A physical relationship added a high degree of intimacy that could seem almost like love.
After listening to Toby recite his prayers, Ellen kissed him goodnight, and went downstairs to prepare a dinner tray for Gerald and herself. The kitchen was empty, and the soft buzz of voices came from the back-dining room, but the tray for the bedroom stood on a table in front of the stove, ready except for adding the hot food. It seemed her feud with Mrs. Moore was over.
Back upstairs, she found Gerald sitting at the table in his room and looking out the window with a pensive expression. “My goodness, your active day must have made you hungry.”
“Actually, I got up so I wouldn’t fall asleep. Seems I’ve gotten lazy from my few days of bed rest.”
She began to ladle food onto their plates. “You were working very hard before the accident. Maybe your body needs a rest.”
“Are you saying a crippled man can’t do as much work as a whole one?”
She paused with her a serving spoon in mid-air. “That’s not at all what I meant.”
He immediately looked contrite. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have said that.”
She sat down across from him, wondering what had caused his apparent bad temper. “Did you have trouble riding today without the artificial arm?”
He shook his head. “I only rode Phantom. We’ve been together for so long he tolerates all of my peculiarities.”
After a deep breath, that sounded almost like a sigh, he turned his attention to his food. They ate in silence for a few moments, and Ellen was glad to see his appetite was not dampened by his ill mood. Finally, he looked up from his plate and asked, “Why have you stopped playing your violin?”
“What?”
“You used to play at night to put Toby to sleep. I haven’t heard you play at all in a week or more.”
Was this what he was upset about? “I broke a string, and I don’t have a spare.”
“Why didn’t you tell me?”
She shrugged. “There’s no music store in Hemsley, and it’s certainly not important enough to warrant a trip to London.”
His frown deepened. “We could have written to my mother. Told her what you needed. I’m sure she would have been glad to send it.”
“A violin string is hardly a priority right now.”
“What does that mean?” The tone of his voice had a sharp edge.
She didn’t know how to talk to this Gerald. “I—I mean it’s a needless expense. It’s not like I can give lessons or preform anywhere.”
He threw his napkin on the table and stood so suddenly that he swayed. Fearing he might fall, Ellen jumped to her feet and reached toward him. He drew back as if offended by her gesture, so she let her hands fall back by her sides. “Why are you so angry about this, Gerald?”
“I’ve seen you play, Ellen. I know it gives you pleasure, but you’re ready to give it up because you think I can’t afford this slight expense.”
“I’m not giving anything up,” she said. “I’m delaying—postponing—until it’s more convenient. You’ve done so much for Toby and me, surely I can do this to make your life a little easier.”
He reached out to her, and she stepped closer so he could encircle her body with his arm and pull her up against his chest and rest his cheek against hers. After a long moment of silence, he said, “I thought consummating the marriage would make things easier between us, but it hasn’t. Has it?”
“This is a
big change. It will take time for us to learn to each other’s likes and dislikes.”
“How long did it take you and Philip to make that adjustment?”
Ellen pulled away from him. Shocked by his question. “Surely you don’t want me to compare those two experiences?”
“Was last night so repugnant to you?” His voice sounded hollow.
“Of course, it wasn’t repug—being on top was unfamiliar. After you turned me it was better.”
“Better but not great.”
She stepped back from him and took a deep breath, as she sought for the right words. She did not want to hurt his feelings. She didn’t want to lie. Finally, she said, “We rushed things last night. We should have waited until your knee was better, so we would have been more relaxed and not worried about re-injuring it.”
He looked away from her as he said, “If you find having sex with me distasteful, please say so. I don’t want to force myself on you.”
His bleak expression tugged at her heart. “Oh, Gerald that’s not what I meant, and you know it.” She moved back to him and placed her hands on each side of his face, forcing him to look her in the eye. “I’m sure we can have a very satisfying sex life, if we just allow ourselves time to relax and learn each other’s ways.”
He studied her face so intently that she found it difficult to meet his gaze but dared not look away as he said, “I was a bit rushed last night. First time excitement—that sort of thing. If we try again, I’ll experiment more.”
“Experiment?”
“More touching, with the hand and the lips. Trying different positions.” He leaned closer and started sucking on her ear lobe.
“Don’t you want to wait for your knee to heal?”
“Waiting will just give the doubts more time to grow.”
Ellen knew that statement was true, so even though she really thought it would be better to wait, she began to unbutton her dress.
* * * *
Gerald stood and watched as she removed her dress. She wouldn’t meet his gaze, showing that she was still self-conscious about undressing in from of him, but at least she was not insisting on hiding behind the screen. He took that as a good sign. With a quick jerk, she undid the strings that held her petticoat and that garment floated down around her ankles.
Then she did look at him. “Am I the only who’s going to disrobe?”
“This night shirt is difficult for me to remove. I thought you might help me.”
She smiled, apparently amused by his obvious ploy. Moving closer, she placed her hands on the sides of his thighs, took handfuls of the nightshirt’s fabric and began to edge the material upward. As she did this, she looked him squarely in the eyes as if her shyness had been overcome. Her boldness encouraged him and he leaned forward, so their lips could touch. Light touches only, and then he gently sucked her lower lip. She leaned closer to him until the tip of his cock brushed against the soft cotton of her drawers and jerked to full attention. A surge of heat warned him to slow down. Tonight had to be for Ellen.
He pulled away from her lips, realizing she had stopped raising his nightshirt about half way up his chest. He raised his arm and the stump. She stared at him for a moment, as if she could not remember what she had been doing. Then she blinked and continued to raise the shirt over his head. When it was completely free, she bent over to pick up her petticoat and took several steps away from him, so she could drape both garments over the back of a chair. Was that hesitancy on her part or just a woman’s instinct to be neat?
She continued to stand near the chair as she efficiently removed her drawers and chemise. Then she started walking toward him, every inch of her smooth, creamy skin available for his inspection. His first instinct was to grab her, throw her onto the bed, and fall on top her. But he reminded himself of the night before, and vowed not to make that mistake again.
He tore his eyes away from her and stared down at the bed. What could he do to give them more time? He picked up a pillow and placed it lengthwise against the headboard. Then he sidled onto the bed, rested his back against the pillow, and stretched his legs out in front of himself. Ellen was watching him with a curious expression, but when he held out his hand, she took it and crawled onto the bed.
He led her until she straddled his legs and started edging toward his body. His attention became fixed on her full breasts that bobbed and swayed as she moved forward. She tried to stop as her female parts approached his cock, but Gerald had a new target and pulled on her hand and then placed his arm around her back and led her up and against the front of his body until he could dip his head and take a rosy nipple into his mouth. A breathy, “Oooh,” escaped Ellen’s lips as Gerald sucked the nipple and felt her skin tighten against his tongue.
Once she understood what he wanted to do, she presented her breasts to him by stretching her body upward and arching her back. He switched to the other nipple and she groaned her gratitude and he could feel her belly begin to pump against chest. His cock was not happy that it had been bypassed, and Gerald could not stop himself from making ineffectual lunges up against the space between her legs. Evidently, Ellen received his message because she pulled away from his mouth, so she could settle herself onto his cock. With a groan of delight, she slid onto him easily and began to pump her hips back and forth. He realized what was wrong.
“Go up and down, Ellen! Use your legs!”
He felt her movement faltering, as if she were confused. “You’re going back and forth with your hips. Go up and down!”
A muscle in her thigh twitch, as she tentatively tried to follow his instructions. On the down stroke, as his cock pushed more fully into her, she gasped, and then her movements became eager and rhythmic, and his groans joined hers, and he pushed up as she came down. He told himself over and over to hold back—to wait for her. Then her groans became a sharp cry and her body tightened around him, and his control melted, and for a frenzied moment they were one.
He cradled her against his chest as their breathing slowed, and an easy feeling replaced his former insecurities. While she was not madly in love with him, he now felt sure she was not repulsed by his attentions. They could get on well together.
* * * *
The next morning, Gerald strapped on his artificial arm and had Jim drive him over to his father’s farm to meet three men in the neighborhood who were interested in part-time employment. After Gerald explained what he wanted done, and how much he would pay, the men all agreed to report to his property the next morning.
While the men were still gathered around him, Gerald asked if any of them knew of a business nearby that sold violin strings. As he had expected, most of the men looked at him with blank expressions, but a fellow with two missing side teeth smiled broadly and nodded. “Me grandpa does a bit’o fiddlin’, and he gets strings from da bookstore.”
After making sure the man meant the bookstore in Hemsley, Gerald thanked him and bid everyone a good day. He had Jim drive him into the village. The bookstore was on Main Street. Once inside, Gerald rather hesitantly asked the middle-aged man behind the counter if he carried violin strings.
The man nodded pleasantly. “Yes, sir, and they’re pure cat gut, not one of the substitutes some people try to pass off.” The man brought out a cardboard box from under the counter and opened it to display little packages wrapped in waxed paper.
“Oh, well, that’s good.” Gerald had not known what violin strings were made of.
“Would you like a full set, sir?”
Gerald hesitated. “These are for my wife, and I don’t know exactly what she requires. Let me take one, so she can start playing again, and if it meets her needs, she can send for more.”
The man nodded and removed one of the little packages from the box. “Does your wife play by ear or does she read music?”
“She reads it. Her father was a professional musician, and he left her his sheets of music.” The clerk’s expression brightened. “We have a string ensemble here in Hemsley that prac
tices during the winter and gives a concert in the spring. Perhaps your wife would be interested in joining us.”
“It’s not all male, is it?”
“Oh, no. In fact, we have several women in the group, and Mr. Wilber, our leader, is a vicar. It’s quite respectable, sir.”
Gerald had not meant to imply it was not. He had just felt Ellen would be uncomfortable joining a group of strangers who were all male, but then he remembered the last group she had played with and felt a bit foolish. He smiled at the man behind the counter. “I shall tell my wife about the group. I know she misses playing with other musicians since leaving London.”
The man seemed pleased with Gerald’s response. “Let me give you the name and address of Mrs. Palmer. She is one of our long-time members. Your wife could make inquiries of her, if she is interested.”
Gerald counted out coins to pay for the string. The clerk hurriedly wrote the information on a scrap of paper. As Mr. Wilber handed him his purchase and the address, Gerald said, “By the way, my name is Gerald Osborne I run a horse farm east of town.”
“I know, sir, the old Jamison estate. I’m Lester Pine, the owner of this shop. Welcome to Hemsley.”
Of course, the man would know who Gerald was: That was the way things were in villages. And Gerald needed to meet more of his neighbors. Maybe he could learn of other activities Ellen might take part in to make her feel more at home here.
Gerald rejoined Jim, who had waited for him in the front of the shop, and they were back at the horse farm by noon, so Gerald told the young man to park the gig behind the house and have his lunch before going back to the stables. They entered through the side doorway, and met Ellen coming into the hallway with a large tray of sandwiches.