by Kris Tualla
Dagny wondered how blunt she might be with her questions. She didn’t want to offend the older woman almost as much as she didn’t want their session to end until she understood everything that was happening between herself and Martin. She wanted her marriage with Martin to be a happy and fruitful one. For that to happen, she needed more female information.
Her marriage to Martin.
Captain Gilsen’s question shocked her. For a moment, she wondered if he was truly offering to act as if their vows never took place. That the wedding was merely a stage play and all of the participants would agree to deny its performance.
She wanted to say but we already consummated the union before she remembered that, according to Martin’s claim, that deed was accomplished much earlier. Her physical purity aside, the captain knew the ceremony was done to save her life. And if that was the only reason, he was offering to let her and Martin out of the bargain.
Dagny already knew she was content. God had given her a worthy husband, even if she was unworthy. Her girlish naïveté led her to dally with a dishonest man. That dazzling courtship pushed her into the foolish decision to abandon everything and follow him—with only empty words as her protection. She should have known better, but she was swept up in the tempest of romantic fantasy which swirled around Torvald.
Did Martin want out of their bond? Dagny gathered her courage and looked at him.
He sat on the trunk, staring at her. His expression was somber, his gaze intense. He did not look anything at all like a man who wanted his freedom, but rather like someone who was about to be handed a severe corporal sentence.
Her husband wanted to be married to her.
Unfamiliar emotions warmed her, ones she had not experienced before. This might be what love felt like. True love this time, not a frivolous crush.
I might be in love with my husband.
Dagny pondered the possibility so intently that she wasn’t aware that the meal had come to an end until Astrid touched her arm. She turned to face the older woman and plastered on a smile. The time had come to address another set of intimate questions.
“Would you like to stroll on the deck?” Astrid asked, as if she and Dagny had not already agreed to do so.
“Would you mind, Martin?” Dagny asked. In the event that he might, she added, “I would truly enjoy some female companionship.”
Martin leaned over and kissed her cheek. “I don’t mind at all. Enjoy yourselves.”
***
Dagny and Astrid strolled the deck arm in arm. The days grew warmer as the ship galloped south, and they had been blessed with sunshine for most of their journey thus far. This particular afternoon, distant clouds portended rain; above them the sky was as clear and blue as a glacier.
“I believe we might venture to sit in the shade if the day continues to warm, but doesn’t send us a breeze for some relief.” Astrid mopped her brow with a linen handkerchief. “Our privacy will remain intact.”
Dagny glanced sideways at Astrid. “You know that we need privacy?”
The older woman chuckled. “I assumed we would be discussing aspects of married life. What other urgent subject would I be of help with?”
“Thank you,” Dagny murmured. She steered them toward a pair of crates in the shade of the fluttering sails overhead.
“What do you wish to know?” Astrid asked once the two of them were settled.
Dagny shook her head. “I have so many questions I don’t know where to begin. And I do not wish to offend you with any of them.”
Astrid laid a hand on Dagny’s arm. “Be as blunt as you need to be. You didn’t have a mother’s guidance to prepare you for the marriage bed, and the sisters of the abbey most likely did more harm than good with their inexperience and rumors. You deserve honest answers.”
Astrid’s reference to her dead mother made Dagny’s eyelids sting with grief she hadn’t acknowledged in many years. She blinked and sniffed the tears away.
Astrid considered her kindly. “Tell me about your wedding night. Was there much pain?”
“No, nor much blood,” Dagny answered, glad for the opening query.
“Did he do anything to prepare you?” she continued.
Dagny’s cheeks prickled with added heat. “He touched me. I was… wet.”
“Good,” Astrid approved. “Did he have any difficulty entering?”
Dagny gave her head a little shake.
Astrid leaned closer. “And did you experience any pleasant sensations?”
That was the crux of her confusion. “I—I think so. But…” Dagny had no idea how to explain her body’s response. “Afterward, I felt as if something was missing. I was tender and swollen and…”
She grunted and threw her hands up in embarrassment. Saying such things out loud felt like a sin. She glanced at the distant storm clouds and wondered if the lightning they stored up was meant for her.
Astrid patted her arm again. “What about your intimate times since that night? Do you feel the same way?”
Dagny’s expression was apologetic. “He hasn’t entered me since.”
“Why not?” Astrid blurted her surprise.
“He said we needed to consummate so that no one could call our marriage a sham,” Dagny explained. “But when it was over he promised it wouldn’t happen again until I asked him.”
“And you haven’t asked him,” Astrid correctly stated. “Why not?”
Dagny rolled her eyes. “I was so frustrated after the first time. I couldn’t sleep. I don’t want to feel like that again.”
Astrid sat back, her air pensive. Her lips pursed as she considered Dagny. “Has he touched you in any way since your first night?”
Dagny nodded, her cheeks prickling again.
“Has that been pleasant?”
“Something happened,” she whispered.
“What sort of something,” Astrid asked in kind.
“I felt this… bubble… in my belly,” Dagny struggled with her description. “And then it seemed to burst, and I felt tingles.”
Astrid’s smile split her cheeks and pinched the edges of her eyes so tightly they seemed to disappear. “My dear girl, that was your peak. A small one, to be sure. But I’ll wager that the next time your husband loves you fully, you will not be in the least bit frustrated when the act is finished.”
“So nothing broke inside me?” Dagny pressed.
“No, not at all. In fact,” Astrid gave her a conspiratorial look. “You are more ‘intact’ than many married woman are.”
That statement made no sense at all, but Dagny shoved it aside in light of Astrid’s confidence that her frustration would be obliterated. She was still skeptical, to be certain, and needed to be assured she understood Astrid’s words.
“You sound like you are suggesting that I invite him to bed me again.”
Astrid’s grin hadn’t faded. “I am. And quickly. The act is a blessing from God.”
Dagny sat back and pondered the woman’s words. “I don’t know what he looks like,” she confessed. “Is it frightening?”
Astrid shrugged, her smile softening. “I believe surprising is a better word.”
The thing that Dagny gripped through Martin’s nightshirt was definitely surprising.
“You see, when it’s relaxed it’s soft and unassuming,” Astrid explained. “When it’s ready, it looks entirely different. But it isn’t anything you should be afraid of.”
Dagny heaved a resolute sigh. “I understand.”
“Men can’t help it, you know. That organ seems to have a mind of its own at times,” Astrid warned. “Just because it grows to a state of readiness doesn’t mean anything needs to happen between you.”
“I was told the opposite,” she admitted.
“Most women are. But once you live with it for a while, you will see,” Astrid assured her. “In fact, most men wake up in the morning with it swollen and stiff.”
“They do?” Dagny yelped her astonishment. She glanced around to see if any
one was close enough to hear her, relieved that they were still alone.
Astrid laughed. “Yes, they do. The poor creatures are constantly plagued.”
That was a revelation, and a helpful one. In fact, this entire conversation had been helpful in the extreme. Now all she had to do was work up the courage to ask Martin to swive her. That was a mountain to scale in and of itself.
A thought occurred and Dagny turned to ask one last question. “Men don’t want to have relations during a woman’s course, do they?”
“Some do,” Astrid said with a grimace. “But you have the right to refuse your husband during that time if it makes you uncomfortable.”
The two women sat in amicable silence for a while. Dagny felt as though a pair of huge anchors had been unchained from around her shoulders. First, the assurance that Martin wanted to be her husband and would not dissolve their marriage when given the chance. And secondly, that what was happening inside her body when he touched her was normal. Not only normal, but the beginning of a blessing.
Dagny smiled her contentment. Today was a good day.
Torvald was arrested. Her name was cleared in relation to the thefts. In addition, the captain gave Martin a valuable gift in exchange for his help. Now her husband would have less to worry about once they landed in Boston. Perhaps they might be able to travel through the colonies like he originally planned.
The journey she was on, which began so precariously, had moved into calmer waters. Everything in her life was going to proceed well from this moment on.
Dagny stood. Astrid followed.
“Thank you, Astrid,” she said and gave the woman a hug. “Your help means more to me than I could possibly say.”
Chapter Twenty Eight
June 25, 1749
Martin returned to the cabin after his second trip to the head in as many hours. The possibility of dysentery lurked in the back of his mind, but his stool had been solid.
He snorted. What a delightful subject to be pondering.
Martin forced his mind to another consideration. He decided to look for Oskar and ask his former cabin mate what he thought about giving the races another try. Martin had no interest in the wagering side of the activity; now that his entrance into American business was solidified by the pearls, he had no interest in taking any financial risks.
He found Oskar in the dining area. He didn’t look well.
“Oskar?” Martin sat across the table from him. “How are you doing?”
“I have eaten something that disagrees with me, I’m afraid.” Oskar’s face was pale. “My bowels are in rebellion.”
Martin recoiled without thinking about it. “Has anyone else fallen ill?”
Oskar shrugged. “I heard that several of the sailors are sick.”
“What’s being done for them?” Martin demanded. “And for you?”
He shook his head. “Nothing. I just need to wait for this to pass. Now, if you’ll excuse me…” Oskar jumped up and awkwardly ran to his cabin.
Martin stood, his hands shaking, and went to find Dagny.
“Oh my God in Heaven,” she moaned when he told her about his conversation with Oskar. “We must speak to Captain Gilsen immediately!”
Dagny strode toward the front of the ship so quickly that—in spite of his long legs—Martin had to trot to keep pace with her. When they reached the captain’s cabin, she pounded on the door with the edge of her fist. This was a side of her Martin had not yet witnessed.
Gilsen yanked the door open.
Dagny stepped inside without asking permission.
“May we have a moment of your time?” Martin smoothed their abrupt entrance.
“Why?” Gilsen tilted his head toward Dagny. “Have you changed your mind about the marriage?”
She whirled and glared at the man’s back.
“No. I’m afraid that my wife’s concern is much more serious than that,” he answered.
“Shut the door,” Dagny ordered.
Captain Gilsen did so, his expression thunderous as yester evening’s storm. “This is my ship, Madam, and I give the orders,” he growled.
“You have an outbreak of dysentery. I’m certain you don’t want the passengers to know,” she snapped.
“How do you know?” Gilsen demanded.
Dagny’s eyes flicked to Martin’s. She expected him to answer this one.
“Because my former cabin mate has been stricken,” Martin explained. “As of now, he believes he ate something that disagreed with his stomach. But when I asked him, he said several of the sailors are similarly ill.”
Captain Gilsen walked around his desk and sank into his large wooden chair. He appeared to have lifted the entire world onto his shoulders in the process.
“He’s right.” The captain’s confirmation turned Martin’s bowels to water, an effect which was not helpful at this moment. “If the passengers begin to fall ill we are ruined.”
“Captain, I would like to offer my services,” Dagny said. Her tone was strong and indicated that the only acceptable answer would be thank you.
“What does a gentlewoman like yourself know about dysentery?” he challenged.
Dagny approached the captain’s desk. “I was raised in the abbey. We cared for the poor and the ill. I probably know more about dysentery than you do.”
Martin pinched his smile between his teeth. Captain Gilsen was clearly outgunned.
“Captain, if I might offer my advice?” Martin ventured.
Gilsen flipped a hand in Martin’s direction giving his annoyed permission.
“Perhaps we should listen to Madam Hansen’s words before we dismiss her offer.”
Dagny turned around and gave him a look of extreme gratitude. His confidence in her leapt. She turned back to face the captain.
“First, we need a supply of fresh, clean water to be used for drinking only, nothing else,” she began. “Were the rain barrels refilled by yester eve’s storm?”
Gilsen nodded, withholding both his words and his judgment with obvious difficulty.
“Next, the cabin boys who empty the chamber pots must wash their hands after each and every one they empty. They can use salt water for that. The fresh water must be reserved for drinking.”
That was the second time Dagny mentioned drinking water. Martin knew she did it deliberately.
“Third, the healthy and the sick should be separated where that’s possible. I suggest that the sick be housed in the salon where I can tend to them.”
“Dagny!” Martin shouted. “Not you!”
She faced him again, her eyes as hard as the ice they resembled. “I am skilled at nursing. I have done this before. I did not fall ill.” She took a breath. “This will be my penance.”
“As your husband, I can forbid you from doing this,” Martin warned. “I do not care to lose my wife so soon into our marriage.”
Dagny tilted her head toward Gilsen. “We can be un-married, if that is what you wish.”
Her words sounded harsh, but her expression pleaded with him to let her proceed. Her eyes shone with unshed tears. She bit her lower lip.
Martin closed the space between them. He pulled her into his arms and held her as tightly as he could without breaking her ribs.
“That is absolutely not my wish. Not now or ever,” he whispered. “But you don’t have to do this.”
“I do, Martin. Please understand,” she begged.
He nodded into her neck and kissed the soft spot behind her jaw. “In that case, I will help you.”
Martin released Dagny and took her hand firmly in his. “Where do we begin?” he asked Gilsen as much as her.
“I’ll need a guard set over the rain barrels,” she stated. “Drinking water is essential.”
“Why do you keep saying that?” Gilsen growled.
Dagny pinned him with a stare so intense, Martin hoped it was never trained on him. “People die of dysentery when they don’t drink enough water. The other symptoms pass within a week. If you want t
o dock this ship with the same number of passengers you began with, then you will do as I say.”
***
The salon was commandeered as a makeshift infirmary for the passengers only. Captain Gilsen insisted that the crew members who fell ill would be treated on their own deck and by their own kind. Dagny lost the battle to train those caregivers, a fact which reduced her to tears in their cabin later.
“Dagny, you cannot save the world,” Martin had said to her. “Save those placed in your care.”
Determined to do exactly that, she set up her nursing station with pitchers of water for washing her hands. She procured separate pitchers of drinking water with a clean mug for each passenger—and insisted that the same was true for the dining area. Last, she ripped Martin’s sheet apart to create scarves for covering her face.
“Are you going about in disguise now?” he quipped.
Dagny chuckled. “It’s a habit from the abbey,” she explained. “Any girl under twenty-five was required to cover her face so that the men we attended wouldn’t be tempted by her youth and beauty to take liberties.”
She turned to face her husband, drape in place. “But to be honest, it also blocks some of the stench.”
“I understand that, but why are you so insistent on everyone washing their hands?” Martin asked.
Dagny shrugged. “That’s another abbey dictate. The nuns felt that by doing so we presented the blameless hands of Christ to those in their care, not carrying the filth of one man’s sins to another’s bed.”
“Well, I suppose it won’t hurt anything,” he conceded.
She pointed a stiff finger at her husband. “I told you I never fell ill, and I practiced these guidelines without fail. I expect God is pleased and He protects me.”
Martin’s features hardened. “And I pray that He will continue to do so.”
Dagny kissed him through the cloth, a brief but heartfelt press of her lips to his. “I’m going to see who has been moved to the salon.”
“I’ll check in on you later to see what you need,” Martin said as he rose to his feet. “Right now, I believe I’ll visit the head.”