“Oh,” I said, stung. I blinked back tears and stared, unseeing, at the trees and scenery we passed, and clasped Mam’s amethyst in my hand. How could I have been so stupid as to think they’d come?
Chapter 13
“Where’s the church?”
“There is no church, child. It costs time and money to a church build. And what for? We can talk to God in the comfort of our own homes. I’m not for a minister paying to tell everyone what to think. I’ll myself do that!” Jan laughed.
I tried to smile. I’d enjoyed the informal prayer time on Sundays that seemed to be the only way the van Eckens celebrated their religion. They’d been a relief after the solemn day-long worship at home, but I’d expected something more for my wedding.
In Massachusetts, life, and even celebration, was taken so seriously, a wedding was a simple statement sworn by bride and groom, at home, before a magistrate. I’d been envious of the stories I’d heard of other cultures and their big wedding services and subsequent parties, and had hoped for something like that now. But there was no one else here.
I took Hendrik’s hand so he could help me down from the carriage and offered a nervous smile to Klara, who jumped down from the seat behind me and organized the dress, preventing any part of the train touching the dirt of the square. I squinted at her; her eyes looked wet, but she turned her head away and I said nothing.
We climbed the steps to the largest brick building in Eckerstad, my arm on Jan’s, Klara following, and entered the town hall. I took a deep breath and tried to calm my nerves.
Jan led me to a door on the right and opened it. He stopped, standing still a moment to look at Erik sitting behind a large, ornate desk. He said something unfriendly in Dutch and Erik rose, then walked around the desk and stood before it. Father and son stared at each other a moment, then Erik looked at me. His eyes softened and he smiled. I smiled back. Maybe this won’t be too bad, after all.
We walked toward my almost-husband, and Jan dropped my arm to move behind the desk and take his seat. Klara arranged my dress, gave me a discreet pat on the arm, and retreated to the back of the room. I looked at Erik, then at Jan in expectation. I was ready.
Jan cleared his throat and spoke—in Dutch. My face fell. Not only was my Mam missing from my wedding, but so was my language.
Erik spoke. I couldn’t understand a word.
Jan told me to say, “Ja’. I did.
*
Fifteen minutes later, Erik walked me back out of the room and to the square. As we walked into the bright sunshine, a loud cheer greeted us. I blinked. The square was full of people wishing us well. I smiled and offered a small wave before I was ushered into the carriage.
Jan and Erik shook a few hands and exchanged brief words with people, but I wasn’t introduced. I supposed it was obvious who I was, but I’d have liked to know who was who.
With no other option I waited as patiently as I could until they both climbed into the carriage and we started for home. I stiffened with the realization that I’d thought of Brisingamen as home for the first time.
*
Jan had insisted I change out of the gown before dinner, and that Klara ensure not one speck of dirt or wrinkle remained on it by morning.
I smiled at her once we were alone in the safety of my room.
“Which gown would you like to wear to dinner, Mevrouw van Ecken?” she asked and I shuddered.
“The pale-gold silk, I think, Klara. And please keep calling me Miss Gabriella—I may be married to a Dutchman, but I’m not ready for Mevrouw yet.” I laughed and she smiled at me.
I sat down heavily as the realization sank in. I was no longer Gabriella Berryngton, I was Mevrouw Gabriella van Ecken. I thought of Peter again, then forced his image from my mind. It was useless to think of him, I’d never see him again.
I stayed in my room as long as I could, but when I heard a door slam downstairs, I knew I couldn’t put it off any longer. I rose, took a deep breath, and made my way downstairs.
The evening meal was awkward and silent. I was nervous about the night ahead. Erik barely looked at me, never mind spoke, and Jan soon gave up his attempts at conversation. It was still over far too quickly, and as we rose from the table, I thought I’d throw up what little I had managed to eat.
The men went to their study, as usual, and I stayed in the drawing room and tried to read, but could not concentrate. I had no idea what to expect from the marriage bed except grunts and screams. I was unclear about what caused them, though. My departure from Massachusetts Bay had been so sudden, and Mam so upset, we’d not spoken about my marital duties—we hadn’t expected my marriage to Peter for many years. I only had advice to do as my husband instructed, and the memory of guilty gossip from my friends, and I was terrified.
I rang for Hendrik and asked him for another glass of wine “to steady my nerves”, as Father used to say.
Chapter 14
I put down my empty wine goblet and book, and stood. I couldn’t put it off any longer. My head spun and I grimaced. I’d drunk too much wine. It was time to go to bed.
I went upstairs carefully. I’d heard no voices when I passed the library door, but knew the heavy door hadn’t been opened whilst I had sat alone in the drawing room. They were still in there: my husband and father-in-law. I giggled. My husband. Then hushed. Husband. I have a husband. I carried on upstairs.
I sat at my dresser and pulled the round enameled brush through my hair until Klara entered. She offered me a smile, but I was too nervous. I had no idea what Erik would expect of me. I wanted to ask Klara, but knew I wouldn’t. I was the mistress of the house and she my slave; I couldn’t ask her how to bed my husband.
She untied and unlaced until she’d removed all the pieces of my gown. She poured out some water and I washed my face, under my arms and—after a suggestive glance from Klara—between my legs.
I dressed again in my night shift—it hung to my knees, had pink ribbon decorating the neck line and sleeves, plus embroidery on the chest. Klara held up the looking glass and I stared. My face was turning brown from the sun and my freckles had doubled, at least. I looked like a child, not a married woman.
“Thank you, Klara,” I said, my voice betraying my nerves and fear. She looked as if she wanted to say something, but thought better of it, put the glass away and, with a final, concerned look in my direction, left the room.
I climbed into bed, smoothed the covers over myself and lay with my head propped on a bolster. I waited.
*
The door banged open and I woke with a start. The room was dark, but my husband held a lantern which he placed on my dresser. I could see him outlined by the light as he undressed. When he pushed his breeches down, I looked away, embarrassed, but curiosity got the better of me and I turned my eyes back to him.
I’d never seen a man without breeches before, although knew what they had down there. As a child, I and my friends had giggled at the boys when we splashed in the sea—naked so as not to spoil our clothes. Father would have flogged us had he known. None of those boys had anything like this, though. They’d been small and floppy, I’d never expected anything so . . . aggressive, and I shrank back against the bed. I didn’t want him coming anywhere near me with that thing.
He pulled the muslin tester to one side and climbed onto the bed, flung the covers back and knelt over me. I felt deeply embarrassed when he pushed my shift up, exposing me and staring in the dim light. I tried to cover myself, but he batted my hands away.
He leaned over me, bracing his weight on his hands, and looked at my eyes for the first time. I screwed my nose up at the smell of sour rum, but forced myself to stare back and tried to tell him through my look to be gentle. I couldn’t read anything in his eyes, and was sure he hadn’t understood.
I screamed as a pain tore through me from between my legs. Erik smiled and pushed into me harder. I bit my lip to keep my screams in. He’d enjoyed the first one, I wouldn’t give him any more.
He kept
pushing, over and over, until finally he groaned and moved off me. I stared at his back and was relieved when he immediately started to snore.
Is that it? As his wife, do I really have to let him do that to me whenever he wants?
I turned over onto my side, hugged my knees to my belly and let the tears come. I moved one hand to my mouth to quieten my sobs when they threatened to burst out of me. I didn’t want to wake him.
Chapter 15
I woke alone in the morning. The memories of the day and night before came back to me, and I couldn’t stop the tears.
I turned away when Klara entered, but by the pause in her step I realized she knew I was crying and didn’t know what to do about it. She put the armful of linen she carried onto the chest and left the room again.
By the time she came back, I had myself under control, my face dry. “Good morning, Klara,” I said, my voice steady.
“Morning, Miss Gabriella. Are you well?” I nodded and flung the covers back, then stood. I gasped when I saw the sheets. He’d made me bleed! He must have known, but he hadn’t cared!
“Don’t worry, Miss Gabriella, it’s normal the first time.”
I looked at Klara as she threw the covers back down to hide the red stains. “I’ll take care of it.” She nodded toward the pile of linen she’d brought to my room. I swallowed and nodded.
“Thank you,” I tried to say, but it came out as a whisper.
I crossed to the bowl of water she prepared and winced as I pulled my shift over my head. My body hurt. I washed carefully, then dressed in the pale-blue gown Klara had laid out whilst I was washing.
“Where’s the wedding gown? Am I not wearing that today?” I asked.
“Later, this afternoon,” Klara replied. “You’ll need to change after lunch, before the guests arrive, but this morning is your own.”
I let out a sigh of relief. After the surprises of yesterday, I didn’t know what to expect from today, but at least I had a few hours as Gabriella before I had to play the part of Mevrouw van Ecken again.
*
At the breakfast table, Jan was all smiles and full of congratulations, and I knew I was blushing as I carefully sat down.
“Good morning,” I said to my husband, refusing to allow him to ignore me.
“Morgen,” he muttered, then lifted his eyes and smiled at me. I dropped my own eyes, unable to hold his gaze with that expression on his face. There was no warmth or emotion in that smile—it was a simple stretching of his lips.
I stared at my plate and picked at the fruit, my appetite gone.
“Eat up, child. With any luck, you’ll be eating for two soon, you need to build up your strength,” Jan said.
I froze. I couldn’t imagine bearing them a child. I couldn’t imagine having Erik as the father of my child. I started at a discreet touch from Klara and glanced at her. She smiled. I wondered what she was trying to tell me.
Eventually, breakfast over, I could escape. I needed to get away from the house and everything van Ecken, and headed through the trees to the cliff top, then my beach. I didn’t move until the position of the sun told me it was noon.
Lunch was just as awkward as breakfast, but the fresh air had made me hungry and I wolfed down the spiced chicken. I’d barely finished when Erik sent me upstairs to change. I climbed the stairs slowly. I wasn’t looking forward to spending the afternoon and evening in the company of Jan, Erik and their friends.
Chapter 16
Klara had the white dress looking perfect again, and I congratulated her as she entered my room. She nodded at my words and held out a cup of steaming liquid.
“I saw your face, Miss Gabriella, when Mijnheer Jan talked about children.”
I looked at her, remembering the way she’d smiled and touched my shoulder. “I cannot bring a baby into this house, Klara. I won’t let those two men raise my child, but what can I do?”
“Drink this,” she said, and I took the cup. “It’s a tea made from plants that grow nearby. I and some of the other women drink it every morning. None of us have had a child since.”
I smiled at her, hardly daring to believe it. “You’re sure? I won’t have his baby if I keep drinking this?”
“I’m sure,” Klara said. I drank it, and grimaced—it was bitter.
“You’ll get used to the taste,” Klara said, smiling.
“Or you could add sugar,” I said, laughing with the relief I felt.
“Or I could add sugar,” Klara repeated, smiling. “Turn around.”
I did, and she untied the discreet ribbons holding my mantua in place, then removed it. Petticoats and stays followed, and I quickly washed then dressed in my wedding gown.
There was a knock at the door and we glanced at each other.
“Just a moment,” I called, but the door was flung open despite my words.
“You need to hurry up,” Erik said. “You’ve wasted the morning, you were nowhere to be seen when you should have been making preparations. Now our guests are arriving and you are still nowhere to be seen. This is not behavior I expect from my wife and the mistress of Brisingamen.” He accented his words with a regular thumping of his cane on the floor and I noticed Klara flinch every time he brought it down.
“Oh, I thought everything was already done,” I replied. “I didn’t know I was needed—if you’d told me, I’d have stayed at the house.” I noticed Klara’s fingers stilled on the ties of my bodice at my words.
Erik just looked at me.
“Pull those stays tighter, Klara,” he said, without taking his eyes from me. I stared back at him. I wouldn’t give him the satisfaction of protesting and gritted my teeth as the wooden slats were drawn into my flesh.
Klara draped the mantua around me and secured it, and I checked my hair and face in the mirror. I was ready.
Erik turned and strode out of the room and I followed. I glanced at Klara as I left and she gave my hand a little squeeze, then I was on my own. I followed my husband down the first flight of creaking stairs, my stays digging into me on every step, but I was aware of Erik standing at the bottom watching me and I wouldn’t give him the pleasure of a whimper or complaint. I glanced at the door nearest my stairs—Erik’s room. I knew now we’d keep separate rooms and he would visit me at his own convenience. I wasn’t welcome in his room—not that I could ever imagine myself wanting to visit him. I realized that I was effectively trapped. I wouldn’t be able to descend these wooden stairs without alerting anyone in that room of my movements.
“Hurry up, wife, our guests are waiting!” Erik tapped my back in impatience with his cane and I glared at him, then swept past him toward the main staircase. He caught up with me at the top and grabbed my arm, linking it with his own. I knew it wasn’t for my benefit, but for that of the crowd of people gathered in the hall and cheering.
I stretched my lips in a smile and stared at all the faces. I’d wished for a large party for my wedding day, and here it was. I knew nobody. Not one person was there for me. My eyes continued to sweep the room as we descended the stairs, and my smile became genuine when I recognized someone—Mr. Sharpe, standing with the Gaudies, Hornigold and Cheval. There was only one friendly face in this crowd of people, and he was a pirate. My smile faded.
Chapter 17
Erik led me around the room on his arm as he greeted our guests and introduced me. At least, I think that’s what he was doing—he spoke only in Dutch, but when he said my name, he and the others looked at me and bowed. I gave a smile and small curtsey back. If he told me their names, I was unable to pick them out from the stream of Dutch.
I couldn’t understand anyone here, so I watched them instead, trying to spot clues to the conversation in the way they held their bodies, crossed their arms or touched my husband. Also in the way they spoke—I couldn’t understand the words, but I could still hear the fear, the dislike, the flattery, and I found it fascinating. I realized I’d been doing exactly this since I’d arrived to try and understand the van Eckens when they
didn’t have the manners to speak English in front of me.
There were few women here, and all those present were on the arm of a husband—we seemed as much a rarity in the Caribbees as the Massachusetts Bay Colony—and I smiled at every woman I met, hoping to find a friend. The only smiles I received back were of pity or embarrassment, and I began to despair. Was anybody here happy for us or wishing us well for the future?
I looked around me for Klara—at least she’d have a genuine smile for me, but she was surrounded by the sailors.
Eventually we, or rather Erik, had greeted each guest and we re-joined Jan. Both van Eckens ignored me and, aware of everyone in the room staring at me and their lack of manners, I was grateful when Mr. Sharpe approached.
“You look beautiful, Mrs. van Ecken,” he said, and his eyes dropped to admire my dress.
“Thank you, Mr. Sharpe,” I replied and stared hard. His eyes had not yet risen from my cleavage.
“Mr. Sharpe?” I said, and his eyes darted up to mine. His suddenly pale face flushed.
“Oh, I do beg your pardon, Mrs. van Ecken.” His gaze dropped then rose again. “Forgive me, but your amethyst—it’s such a beautiful stone.” His hand moved toward it and I grabbed the pendant myself, cupping the stone in my hand to protect it from the pirate. His hand dropped.
“Where did you get it?”
I frowned at his rudeness, but decided to answer—up to now, he’d behaved well toward me and—after Klara—was the closest thing I had to a friend in the Caribbees.
“My mother gave it to me when I left Massachusetts to get married—it had been given to her by my true father.”
“Your true father?”
Yes. Some English earl who persuaded her he loved her, then put her aboard a ship to the New World rather than face the consequences of his courtship. He gave her the stone as a keepsake.” I wrinkled my nose in disgust.
The Valkyrie Series: The First Fleet - (Books 1-3) Look Sharpe!, Ill Wind & Dead Reckoning: Caribbean Pirate Adventure Page 16