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She inched away from the door. She came into the light ever so slightly, and he decided to open the champagne and enjoy it, even if she would not. The cork gave a satisfactory pop, and he quickly tipped the bottle before the foam could overflow onto the table. He shot her a questioning look, holding up the second empty glass. “Would you like some? It is some of my father’s finest vintage,” he offered.
She took another few steps toward him, looking like a frightened deer in fear of being caught in a trap. “Perhaps a little bit,” she conceded. Pleasantly surprised, he poured her a glass and held it out to her. She came the rest of the way and snatched the glass away, careful to keep the settee between them.
He could not help but notice how beautiful she looked in her white silk gown, sparkling in the firelight from what must have been thousands of tiny gems that had been sewn into the fabric. Her long blonde hair had started to fall out of the many pins that had held it in place all day, a fact he was sure she had not noticed yet.
Ellen looked around the room. The only light was the orange glow from the hearth and a few candles placed about, reflecting off her ivory-white skin. On any other occasion, it might have seemed romantic. However, he was exhausted from the long day, and his mind was far from romantically bent. All he wanted now was to have an honest conversation with his wife, to try and find some common ground—if it was possible.
“Would you like to sit down?” he asked. She hesitated, and he sat in a chair at the far side of the little sitting area. She came around the settee and sat down after he was settled.
“This is a lovely room,” she said. He could tell she was uncomfortable but was at least trying to make conversation. What could he say to put her at ease?
“Thank you. And you look very lovely in it,” he replied with a smile. As soon as the words were out of his mouth, he knew they had been the wrong thing to say. Ellen again tensed and scooted a couple of inches away until her hip was pressed against the settee’s arm. He let out a sigh.
“I apologise. I did not mean anything by that statement. I only meant that you looked beautiful today. I am not sure if I had the chance to say so before.” He lifted the glass to his lips and took a sip, the popping bubbles tickling his nose. The scent of pears and sourdough bread wafted to his nostrils. It was indeed a delicious vintage.
“Well, thank you,” she said haltingly. “You did as well. Handsome, I mean,” she blurted.
He allowed a smile to cross his lips. “I thank you,” he said and lifted his glass as if to toast her. Just then, the clock on the mantel began to chime. Silence pervaded the room with the exception of the chimes, twelve in all. He sighed and leaned forward as the last chime’s echo dissipated.
“Well, it has been a long day. I suppose we should head to bed?” he suggested. She stood up hurriedly as he started to rise. She downed the champagne in one fell swoop and placed the glass on the end table.
He raised a brow and straightened. “Ladies first,” he said, motioning to the screen. She looked at it and only seemed to register his meaning after a few seconds’ pause.
“Oh, yes. Thank you,” she said. She looked around for a moment and spotted her trunks near the end of the bed. She opened them and dug for a moment to find a nightdress and dressing gown. She then hurried over to the screen and disappeared.
While she was changing, he loosened his cravat and took off his vest, slinging them over the back of the chair. He settled himself on the settee, closing his eyes while Ellen changed. He felt his body relax within a few moments and soon began to doze.
Chapter 11
Ellen stuck her head around the screen, relieved to see that Simon was dozing on the settee. She inched out from behind the screen, clutching her clothing to her chest. She tiptoed past the sitting area and over to the bed. However, she was at a loss for a moment. She looked around and finally decided to deposit her wedding gown and underthings on the trunk at the foot of the bed.
She then stood there for a moment, glancing over her shoulder at Simon. Which side of the bed should she take? Simon shifted, and she decided to take the right side nearest the hearth. Ellen climbed into the bed and pulled the covers up to her chin.
Only after a few seconds did she realise she was still wearing her dressing gown. With a huff, she flipped the coverlet off herself and stood up, taking the dressing gown off and placing it at the end of the bed.
Simon coughed, and her head shot up, realising that he had been watching her with an amused look on his face. She jumped into the bed and covered herself with the sheets.
“As I said before, you have nothing to fear from me, Ellen,” he said gently. He stretched, letting out a breath as he raised his hands in the air. She peeked over the covers, noticing for not the first time how well-built he was. However, the thought did little to calm her nerves. She lay down, gripping the sheets with both hands. She heard him shuffle over to the screen and lay there for a moment, listening.
Out of instinct, she reached for the pillows under her head and began making a sort of wall in the middle of the bed. “There, that should do,” she mumbled. She looked once more at the screen, from which Simon had yet to emerge, and lay back down. Staring at the ceiling, she began to relax.
Simon was right. It had been a long and taxing day. Her mother had cried at the ceremony, as all mothers should. And her father had given a very moving speech during the wedding breakfast. However, she still did not feel married. She felt as if she were trapped with a strange man she did not know anymore.
She turned over on her side, staring into the fire. Golda had advised her to give her new husband a chance, that he had not been the monster Ellen had painted him to be. Her mind wandered back to their childhood, and she was reminded of the warm spring day when he had offered to teach her to ride.
She had expected him to play a trick on her, perhaps to make the horse rear and buck her off or to lead her out into the forest only to try to find her way back on her own. However, during that instance, he had been almost charming and gallant. At least as charming as a ten-year-old boy could be.
She smiled to herself, remembering how attentive he had been as he had helped her climb into the saddle. He had very nimbly hoisted himself into the saddle behind her and had done his best to make her feel at ease on the spirited animal. In his careful hands, the horse seemed more like a Shetland pony.
Suddenly, she heard movement behind the screen, and Simon came out dressed in a simple pair of worn breeches and a long white shirt. He padded over to the bed, and her heart began to race until she thought it might explode out of her chest. She clamped her eyes shut, hoping he would leave her alone if he thought she was asleep.
She chanced a glance in his direction through the narrow slits of her eyelids, saw him look at the middle of the bed where she had built her “wall,” and shook his head. He then snatched a thin blanket from the end of the bed and walked back to the sitting area. She knew she had made a terrible mistake.
Chapter 12
Simon halted mid-step, turning around to face her. They were barely twelve hours into their marriage, and he was already sorely frustrated. Shaking his head, he gave a derisive laugh. “I know how odious my attentions must be toward you, non-existent as they are. Rest assured, from this moment forward, I will no longer try to get in your good graces. Indeed, I wonder if anyone is ever in your good graces.”
Ellen sat up in the bed, allowing the coverlet to fall to her lap. She looked upset and stuttered for a moment, no doubt trying to explain. It was a struggle not to stare at her, with her long blonde hair hanging loose about her shoulders. He had never seen a woman in nothing but a night dress before, and while she was covered from throat to wrist, it was a strange experience for him.
