Keeping Katerina (The Victorians)

by Simone Beaudelaire

  But now, it was time for dinner. Two extra places were rapidly set and the couples headed to the dining room for soup followed by a succulent roast beef with vegetables. Katerina was so hungry she ate surprisingly well. Normally, she picked at her food. Dining with her father was always a stressful experience. As the wine flowed freely, weakening his already precarious control, the danger increased. Taking the time to savor a meal had always been unthinkable. She could not remember a time when she had. But not tonight. Trying to heal such serious wounds, along with the turmoil of the hurried wedding and physical exertion of her first sexual experience, there was no denying her appetite.

  As she sat at the table, trying to make herself chew slowly and not gobble her dinner, she realized her backside was significantly less sore. Thank heaven. Bruises healed faster than cuts, but sitting on them was deeply unpleasant. Her internal soreness was fading as well, and was quickly being replaced by a hint of curiosity. They would be trying it again soon, she was sure. Christopher had made it clear that he expected her to be willing. It would be no hardship. He had mentioned having her on her back, and she imagined what it would be like, lying open under her husband’s body as he thrust inside her. The thought made her cheeks pinken a little. To cover it, she took a sip of wine.

  She didn’t say a word during dinner, but after, Julia scooped her into the parlor for a cup of tea and some serious conversation. Christopher and his father remained at the table for glasses of port.

  "What have you done, son?" Adrian asked without preamble, his voice grim with concern.

  "What I had to do."

  "Why did you have to?"

  Christopher shook his head. "There was no choice. She might not have survived another beating. The one she endured was bad enough. And it wasn’t the first by any means."

  "I know. Do you really think such a terribly abused woman is going to be a satisfying wife?"

  "Do you really think I would be able to live with myself if she were murdered because I didn’t act when I had the chance? Listen, Father, I know what you mean. It is terribly daunting. But she wants to heal, to be well. She wants to be a good wife. She has promised to try. Do you think there is no hope?"

  Adrian shook his head. "Hard to say. She’s young. Hopefully her fearfulness is not set into her for life. Perhaps she can overcome it in time, with your help."

  "That’s my hope. There is a great deal of evidence to suggest she wants to be healthy, to be a happy wife and a well-loved one. I know it will take time, but I’m willing to work through this with her."

  "How on earth did you get to such a place? You barely know this girl."

  "I realize that. I didn’t want to do it this way. The initial attraction was… very nice, promising. I wanted to get to know her slowly, court her, marry her when the time was right, maybe in a year or so."

  "That would have been the better way."

  "It couldn’t be. I know she looks all right now, but you should have seen her yesterday. You should see what’s under her dress. He damn near killed her, Father. I’m not exaggerating that it was a matter of life and death. The beating she took to the belly alone could have been fatal, not to mention if one of the wounds on her back festered…" Christopher shuddered.

  "She does NOT look all right now. She looks injured."

  "She is. But she’s better than yesterday."

  "Well, I can see there’s no undoing it. You’re married. And, from the way you look at her, I would guess, fully consummated as well."

  "Yes."

  "So there’s nothing to do but move forward. How do you plan to turn a rescue into a marriage?"

  "I’m not really sure. I would appreciate some advice."

  "I don’t know if I have any to give. I’ve no experience with this kind of situation. It seems to me that gratitude is not enough of a basis for a vital relationship."

  "No. I don’t want to remain mired in this sorrow forever."

  "Right. She’s certainly not used to expressing her feelings, or asking for what she wants, so you run the risk of developing congenial parallel lives which really don’t touch each other."

  "How dreadful. I certainly don’t want that. How do I become… real to her?" He had been toying moodily with his glass, but now he met his father’s eyes.

  "It will be difficult. I think you’re going to have to spend a great deal of time observing her closely. She won’t ask for anything, so you have to figure out what she needs. It will be difficult, but if you don’t do it, I’m rather sure she will withdraw from you and just live inside herself for the rest of her life. You’ll need to draw her out, but gently, slowly, so she doesn’t panic. In short, son, you’ve undertaken a monumental task. I hope you’re up to the challenge."

  "So do I, father."

  ***Chapter 9***

  "You’re not upset, are you, Mrs. Bennett?" Katerina asked as she settled onto the bench of the harpsichord in the Bennett’s music room, facing outward. The blond instrument with its ornate carved legs and painted lid was a legacy from Adrian’s grandmother. This room was Katerina’s favorite in the house, the one in which she felt most comfortable. It was where she had entertained her new mother-in-law and Mrs. Turner only a few days ago on this very instrument.

  "Upset, Katerina? About what? And please do not call me Mrs. Bennett. It’s your name too now, my dear. I’m either Julia or Mother to you."

  "Mother, then." That made Julia smile. "About Christopher and me getting married without consulting you."

  "Oh, no. I’m upset you had a… crisis. I was afraid something like this might happen. I hate how hurt you’ve been. But I’m delighted you’re finally safe, my dear. I wanted this for you, for both of you. I think, once you’ve recovered from your ordeal a bit, that you and Christopher will be excellent together. I do wish there had been time for us to talk a little, before the actual… marriage took place. I assume you’re… fully married at this point?"

  Katerina colored. "Yes."

  Julia nodded. "Good. Did you know what to expect?"

  "Not at all, but Christopher got me through the process well enough."

  "Oh dear. I imagine that was awkward."

  "Yes."

  "Was it… all right?"

  Katerina nodded. "I didn’t hate it."

  "Good. That’s a good start. Husbands like it very much. It’s good if their wives do too."

  "This is a very uncomfortable conversation."

  "You’re right. But you don’t have a mother, and I want to be sure, since you’re embarking on married life, that you understand what is needed. Do you have any questions?"

  Katerina thought for a moment. "How do I fall in love with my husband?"

  Julia blinked in surprise, and then a wide grin split her face.

  "What an excellent question, love. Here’s what you do. First, don’t rush yourself. You have a lot to try and get past before you can be open with anyone. But while you’re healing, look at your husband. Every man has good and bad qualities. You need to understand the bad ones, how you feel about them, so you can remind yourself to let them go. And then you need to see what is good about Christopher, glory in it. Roll his goodness around yourself like a blanket until you feel warm and safe and happy with him."

  "I already do."

  "Do you? Excellent. Keep doing it. And if you sometimes have to retreat, to pull back, don’t fret. You can always return. A setback is not a defeat, and even the healthiest couples have them. Learning to make one out of two is difficult, but if you make yourself open to it, if you learn to trust, eventually you will succeed."

  "I feel like I’m taking terrible advantage of him."

  "You’re not. Every man wants to be his lady’s hero. He’s fortunate. He’s already yours. Isn’t he, Katerina?"

  "Oh yes. He saved my life," she replied fervently.

  "He did. Now you dedicate your life to pleasing him, and I’ll encourage him to do the same for you."

  "Oh, he can’t do any more for me. It’s too much
already."

  "And you really think this one kind act is enough to sustain you for a lifetime?"

  Katerina nodded.

  "It isn’t. He wants to give you more. Let him. Let him fall in love with you too. You really are worthy of it, you know."

  That was the end of the conversation because the men joined them. Christopher and his parents chatted easily for a short time. Katerina was content to observe, learning to understand her new family.

  "Well dear ones, I think we should host a reception in honor of this marriage," Julia said at length. "I understand why such a small wedding was necessary, but there should still be a celebration."

  Katerina swallowed hard. A party in her honor sounded like... a nightmare. She hated people staring at her. She looked at her mother-in-law with panicky eyes.

  "What, dear, don’t you want a party?"

  "No thank you. You needn’t go to all the trouble."

  "It would be no trouble. I enjoy planning parties."

  "Please. You don’t need to do that."

  "Mother, listen. She’s telling you no." Christopher said, "Kat, you can say no to my mother. No one will be upset. Tell her what you want."

  Katerina shook her head. This was already too much attention. She closed her eyes for a moment, blocking everyone out. Christopher noticed her increasing discomfort, and pulled her into his embrace, letting her hide her face on his shoulder.

  "Looks like we’ve had enough togetherness for one day. We’ll be back soon, I promise. Come on, love, it’s time to go. The cab should be back any minute."

  He escorted her outside. Their ride arrived a few moments later. As they headed back towards Christopher’s lodgings, a burning shame fell on Katerina.

  "I’m sorry," she said softly.

  "For what?"

  "I ruined your evening."

  "How?"

  "I’m such a rabbit. I have no courage. I can’t even hold a normal conversation."

  "I understood, and I’m not upset. Mother should have known better. You hate to be the center of attention don’t you?"

  "Yes."

  "Is attention a threat? If someone notices you, they might realize you’ve made some kind of mistake and tell your father?"

  "That may be. I’ve never thought about it."

  "But everyone was looking when you played. Why was that different?"

  "I’ve been playing for Father’s friends forever. I’m used to it."

  "I see. Well, we don’t have to have a party. There’s no great reason for it. If you don’t want one, that’s it. But it’s going to be important for you to work on telling people what you want. Don’t hint quite so subtly my dear. It’s hard to understand."

  "Sorry." Her shame increased.

  "No, don’t be sorry." He caressed her cheek, wanting to soothe her. "It’s not a judgment. Just a suggestion. One step towards your new life as the happy and confident Mrs. Christopher Bennett."

  She smiled ruefully. "That sounds good. Um, Christopher, do you think it’s too late for me to have a bath when we get back?"

  "No, it’s not that late really. Why?"

  "I’m stiffening. A hot bath really helps."

  "Certainly you may."

  "Thank you."

  "In the meanwhile, love, are you cold? Be honest."

  "Yes."

  "Then come over here and let me warm you."

  She scooted closer to him and he embraced her, his arm resting lightly on her back.

  "Does this hurt?"

  "No."

  "Truly?"

  "Truly. It’s fine."

  "Good. Would you like a kiss?"

  "Yes, please."

  He lowered his mouth to hers, touching her lips with the tip of his tongue, asking her to open. She did and he treated her to a long round of passionate loving inside her mouth. It was very arousing for both of them.

  The cab pulled to a stop outside the hotel and Christopher reluctantly released his wife’s lips, paid the fare, and escorted her back to his rooms, ringing for a bath. Soon a claw foot tub filled with steaming water and Epsom salt awaited Katerina’s sore body. She could hardly wait, but her borrowed dress had complicated fastenings, and she needed another set of hands to open them. Christopher, naturally, was delighted to undress her again.

  "You know," he told her, looking at the tub; "I would love to share a bath with you."

  "Is that done?"

  "Certainly, if you want."

  "I don’t know." Her dithering was wasting the heat, but what could she say?

  "Tell the truth. Do you want me to be here, or do you want some privacy?"

  She closed her eyes. "Privacy." Her voice was so little it was almost inaudible.

  He nodded, a little crestfallen but neither angry nor surprised. "That’s fine. You enjoy your bath. I’m so proud of you for saying what you want." He kissed her gently and left her in peace.

  Thank the Lord he was gone. At last she could do what she needed. Stripping off her borrowed chemise, she sank into the water. Heaven. The salt stung rather badly on her cuts, but it also soothed her bruises and knots and the dainty injury her husband had inflicted between her legs.

  As the pain and tension faded, her body relaxed, and it was a powerful relaxation, the likes of which she could scarcely remember ever feeling before. She began, in some small part of herself, to understand what safe meant. Safe. Without warning the cry which had been threatening for the last several hours breached her defenses and she sobbed. It felt marvelous to release it.

  "Kat?" Christopher knocked on the door, "Are you all right? Do you need anything?"

  Did she want his soothing? No. She wanted to work through this alone.

  "No," she called back in a wavery voice, "Nothing."

  "Let me know if you change your mind, you promise?"

  "Yes."

  And he left her be. She sank into the water until only her face remained above the surface and let herself cry, just gave herself over to it, let it happen, let the sorrow wash over her. It wasn’t enough to fix her for good, but it was enough for today. And finally it passed, and she felt… washed clean. She was embarking on a new life, with new opportunities. She could make herself into whatever she wanted to be, learn new reactions, new habits.

  This was a startling revelation. For a decade she had lived like an animal, reacting, hiding, trying to avoid being noticed. She had not lived, merely survived as best she could, but that was no longer necessary. She was not an animal. She was a woman, and she had the potential to think, to observe, and to choose her actions, her behaviors. Self awareness dawned like sunrise, bringing hope, a hope she had never expected. She could be more than a frightened rabbit. She could be Katerina, whoever that was, Mrs. Christopher Bennett…a whole new identity. She could tell her mother-in-law she didn’t want a party, if she truly didn’t. Or she could request something that suited her, or she could compromise. She could choose something uncomfortable to please others, but she didn’t have to in order to avoid danger.

  She thought about Christopher. He had asked a little while ago for the intimacy of sharing a bath. In order to avoid conflict, she had been inclined just to let him make the decision, but he had begged her to be honest. And honestly she had wanted to be alone. And he hadn’t been angry. He had been disappointed, but had acquiesced to her wishes. He had listened to her. He had listened in bed too, she remembered, taking her quickly to minimize the pain, just as she had asked.

  Affection towards her husband stirred within her. She had been attracted to him, because he was handsome and soothing and represented safety. But suddenly she liked him. She wanted his company because he was Christopher. These were very good thoughts, and she liked them. She felt content. Perhaps someday she would understand happy. But for today contentment was among the most pleasant things she had ever felt, like this warm soothing salted bath, like crying when one needed to, like the lovely pleasure she had felt earlier today when she had let Christopher touch her.

  S
he should let him touch her again, she decided. He wanted to. She was sure of that. She also felt again the shy curiosity about the act. He said that once her soreness faded she would enjoy him putting… that inside her. It was hard to imagine. It had stung, burned the first time, but perhaps now, since she was open, discomfort would end. She had been sore all evening, a lingering embarrassing reminder that she had taken all her clothes off and been naked with a man who had touched her intimate parts and then thrust himself inside her. But the ache was fading in the warm water, and the man was her husband. They had pledged their bodies to each other. He had promised fidelity. That meant she owed him her body, since he was forsaking all others.

  She sat up taller, her breasts breaking the surface of the water, the nipples hardening in the cool air. They had liked being caressed, liked it very much. And he had liked touching them. She hesitantly stroked one bud. Nice, but not really the same. And lower, was she ready to be touched there again? Her hand slid under the water, down her belly. The bruises hardly hurt anymore. But touching herself was too daunting, and she stopped. She would leave the intimate caressing to her husband. Was she brave enough to ask him? Not really. But her nightgown was out in the other room. She could emerge nude. That might be clue enough.

  Finished bathing, she stood, and was pleased to be able to bend over and pick up a towel. She dried herself quickly. It was cold since she was no longer in the tub, and her nipples hardened further. Good. She walked quickly through to the bedroom, before her nerves could stop her. As she had hoped, Christopher was there, reclining on the bed, reading a novel. He glanced up, and she was pleased to see his eyes widen, his jaw drop.

  "Did you have a good bath, love?" His calm voice was at odds with his stunned expression. Clearly, he had not expected a move this bold.

  "Yes. I really needed that. Perhaps, some time, we can do… what you suggested."

  "Let me know when you’re ready," he told her eagerly.