For as little sleep as I managed to get, I woke quite early, just as dawn light was slipping in through the curtains. I assumed it was Brom’s presence, the unfamiliarity of having someone in bed with me, that woke me. The one night I shared a bed with Ichabod I had not slept much, either, though that had very much been by design.
I squeezed my eyes shut to hold back the tears. How many times must I say goodbye to these memories before they would leave me?
Beside me, Brom stirred with a groan. I stifled a laugh again. No doubt the drink that had made him unable to perform had left behind a mighty ache in his head as well.
He caught me looking at him. “If it isn’t my wife,” he mumbled.
My stomach turned at the word, at how it sounded coming out of his mouth.
“My wife,” he went on, becoming more alert with each word, “in name, but not yet in deed, if I recall.”
I went still, not answering him.
“Drink can do that to the best of men, I’ll have you know,” he told me, sitting up halfway. “If I recall, I promised to show you what a real man is capable of.”
Somehow I found my voice. “I shall have no basis for comparison,” I said, hoping there was a flirtatious note in my voice instead of the deadness I felt, “so I shall have to take your word for it.”
I had thought I would have a reprieve until that night at least, but—good. Get it over with.
Then the child will be safe, no matter what comes after.
Moving with more swiftness and purpose than I would have expected of a man in his state, Brom drew me against him, his body half covering mine as he kissed me deeply. This time, I knew with both disappointment and relief, would be much different from the night before. His mouth moved hungrily, confidently over mine, and his hands moved surely up my body. “You are overdressed, wife,” he murmured against my mouth.
How rude of you to remain dressed when a lady is unclothed. The words I’d spoken to Ichabod before we’d first made love sprang unbidden to my mind, and I gasped aloud at the pain of the memory striking at that moment, like a knife slid between my ribs by a friend.
Brom mistook my gasp for one of pleasure. “Yes,” he said, pulling me up into a sitting position and yanking the shift over my head. “All in good time.”
His touch was foreign, alien, and every part of me wanted to recoil in shame and disgust that it was not Ichabod. And though I had no reason to feel guilt, it was present nonetheless.
Brom positioned himself above me; there would be no repeat of last night’s trouble—his member, hard and erect, was pressed against my leg. He lowered himself atop me, and I tried to relax as much as I could as he pushed into me. At the last moment, recalling Charlotte’s advice, I remembered to cry out as if in pain at the loss of my maidenhood.
“Oh, Katrina,” he growled, his breath hot against my ear as he began to move within me, thrusting deeper each time. Jaw clenched, I waited for it to be over.
Finally he groaned as his pleasure came upon him, and I felt him shudder, then lay still against me. I opened my eyes; he was still inside me and I had to fight the urge to push him off, to get away from him as quickly as possible so that our bodies no longer touched. Tears seeped out of my eyes. I am sorry, Ichabod. I am sorry and I hate you for leaving me behind to make this choice.
Finally, Brom withdrew. Noticing the tears on my cheeks, he bent down to kiss them away. “Do not cry, my love,” he said cheerfully. “It shall hurt less each time. And I am told some women come to enjoy it in time.” His eyes hungrily took in my naked body. “God knows I shall enjoy teaching you to please me, and bringing you pleasure in return.”
I turned my face away.
He rose from the bed and collected his clothes and shoes from the floor. “I shall leave you to dress, wife,” he said, smiling, “and then I believe we are expected downstairs for breakfast. I shall see you soon.” With that he went into the smaller, adjoining bedchamber.
Moving quickly, I took the vial of chicken blood from the drawer and, with shaking hands, removed the stopper. I tipped the vial over the area of the bed where I’d been lying and watched the viscous liquid drip out and stain the white sheets. I replaced the stopper and stowed the vial back in the drawer. I’d get rid of it later.
I retrieved my shift, pulling it back on over my head before calling out to him. “Brom!”
The door to the adjoining room opened and he stepped back in, tucking his shirt into his breeches. “Yes, wife?”
I smiled at him as sweetly as I could. “When you go downstairs, will you be so kind as to send Nancy up to help me dress?”
“Certainly,” he said. His eyes caught on the bloodstained sheets, and his smile widened. “I shall tell her to come up directly.”
“Thank you,” I said, voice dripping with honey.
Once he left again, I let myself sag against the bedframe. God bless Charlotte and her foresight.
Minutes later, Nancy knocked. “Good morning, Miss Katrina,” she said, coming in. “And how was your night?”
“As well as could be expected, I suppose,” I said dully.
I saw her eyes flit to the stains on the sheets as well. “Well, let’s get you dressed, then,” she said. She’d brought in a fresh gown and underthings.
I saw her frown briefly as I undressed, but she quickly helped me into the clean things. “Did you wash this morning?” she asked. “I didn’t know if anyone had brought you water.”
“What?” I asked. “Why do you ask?”
“I figured you must’ve washed. Cleaned the blood off, anyway,” she said, nodding toward the sheets.
There was blood on the sheets, but not on my thighs, where there would have been had I really bled. “Oh … yes,” I said quickly. “There was water in there,” I said, nodding toward a pitcher on the washstand opposite the bed. I had no idea if there was truly any water in it or not. “I … I wanted to clean myself up, of course. I will take a full bath later.”
“I see,” Nancy said. Clearly she did not believe me, but I felt no panic. I had suspected for some time that Nancy knew the truth, though how much of the truth I still was not sure. But whatever she knew or did not know, she would never betray me.
Once I was dressed, Nancy braided my hair and pinned it up. I touched the weight of it at the back of my head as I headed downstairs. I was a married woman now, and so could no longer wear my hair about my shoulders like a girl. It was heavy, my hair, and so too was my married state.
Brom was already seated at the table with my parents. When I entered, he rose from his chair. “My bride,” he said, kissing my hand. Surely I was mistaken, but was there … reverence in his voice, his eyes? He must be mocking me, I decided, settling into the chair beside him that he pulled out for me.
“Now then,” my father said. “I trust you both enjoyed the day yesterday?”
“Very much,” Brom said, taking my hand and squeezing it. I smiled tightly and nodded.
“Good, good,” my father boomed, taking a sip of his tea. “I am delighted to hear it. I am indeed overjoyed at the union of our two families, so I am glad yesterday was such a wonderful celebration.” He cleared his throat. “Now, to business. My wife and I, together with your father, Brom, have taken the liberty of purchasing some new furniture for your house. It is already there, waiting for you.”
“Truly, sir?” Brom asked. “That is most generous of you, and of my father as well.”
“Most generous,” I echoed.
“Think nothing of it, my dear boy,” my father said. “All that remains to be done today is for you both to move your personal effects into the house and get settled.” He took my mother’s hand where she sat beside him. “I have no doubt you will soon discover all the joys of married life. Although, hopefully,” he added with a grin, “it will not be just the two of you for very long.”
“I confess I am excitedly anticipating grandchildren,” my mother said, with a pointed look at me.
Brom chuckled. “We shall do our best to oblige you both. Indeed, we have already made a start on that task.”
I blushed at his mention of such a thing in front of my parents, even as he and my father laughed jovially together. But the smile I gave my mother was not a false one. If it is a grandchild you want, I wished to say, I can promise you shall have one sooner than you might think.
* * *
After breakfast, I drew my mother aside before we went upstairs to finish packing up my things. “May I have a word, Mama?” I asked.
“Of course, dear. What is it?”
“I was hoping I might persuade you to release Nancy from your service. That she might come work for me.”
My mother paused, clearly surprised by this request. “I would miss her, truth be told,” she said. “But if she wishes to work for you and Brom, that is entirely her decision.”
“I have spoken to her, and I believe that she does,” I said. “Not that she is not content in your employ, of course,” I added hurriedly. “But she was willing to come work for me.”
“Very well, then,” my mother said. “Yes, I think this is a fine idea. It is a big change, adjusting to married life. It will be good for you to have Nancy there with you.”
My mother embraced me, and I returned the embrace wholeheartedly. “My daughter,” she murmured. “It seems I looked away for but a moment, and then you were a woman.”
I laughed as we separated. “It did not seem to happen quite that quickly for me.”
“It never does,” she said, smiling wistfully. “Someday, when you have a daughter of your own, you will understand.”
I blinked back sudden tears at these words. If only I could have told her that I was at that very moment carrying a daughter.
“In any case,” I said, brightly, “you can come to visit Nancy whenever you wish.”
She laughed and hugged me again. “I shall come often, to see both Nancy and my daughter,” she said. “And hopefully soon, my grandchild as well.”
I smiled at her, already anticipating eagerly the moment I would finally be able to tell her that her wish had come true. It was the first time in a very long time that I had eagerly anticipated anything.
* * *
Brom and I loaded our belongings onto my father’s farm cart, and the men drove it into the village to our new house with Mama, Nancy, Nox, and myself sitting awkwardly in the back among the trunks and bags. We brought everything inside, and then Brom and I went from room to room, exclaiming over all our new furniture. Nancy, excited and pleased at her change in employment, offered to cook us a fine dinner, and Brom went with my parents to take the cart back and to invite his father for the meal as well. When Nancy departed for the market to see what could be had fresh, suddenly I was alone in my house for the first time.
I should have begun putting away my clothes and books, no doubt, but I found quickly that silence and solitude were not what I needed just then. So I donned my cloak and walked the—happily—short distance to the Jansen cottage.
When I knocked, Mevrouw Jansen opened the door. “Why, Katrina,” she said. “Or neighbor, as I suppose I should now call you.” She ushered me inside. “I am surprised to see you. I would have thought your new husband would not let you out of his reach for several days.”
I forced a smile, holding back my shudder. The only thing worse than being alone would have been being alone with Brom, and sadly I had a lifetime of that ahead of me. “He has gone to invite his father to dinner tonight,” I explained. “Is Charlotte home?”
“Yes, she’s in the stillroom,” Dame Jansen said. “Fear not, I shall not disturb you as you gossip of marriage and all related matters.” She gave me a wink.
I turned away and went into the stillroom, where Charlotte was grinding up some herbs, an apron tied about her waist. “Katrina,” she said, looking up. She blew a strand of red hair that had escaped her braid out of her eyes. “I did not expect to see you today.”
“Oh, I … well, you are busy,” I said, feeling awkward, as though now that I was wedded and bedded, my betrayal was somehow made manifest and corporeal between us. I turned to leave. “I can come back some other time…”
“No, no,” Charlotte said, setting down her mortar and pestle. She wiped her hands on her apron. “I am glad to see you, it is just … unexpected.”
“Did you think Brom would keep me in bed all day?” I asked, before I could think better of it.
She regarded me evenly. “I thought he might try,” she said. “I am glad for your sake that I am wrong.”
I was silent for a long time before I spoke again. “Charlotte, do you…” I bit my lip and looked away. “Do you truly forgive me?”
“It would do me no good to bear a grudge against you.”
I glanced up, hurt at her noncommittal words, but she wore a teasing smile. “Oh, Katrina, of course I forgive you. I do not pretend to understand your decision, and my heart breaks for you, above all else. I know this was the last thing you wanted. Certainly I would be a fool to take any personal offense from any of this.”
I breathed a sigh of relief, and some of the tension knotting my chest seemed to loosen. At times like this I was reminded that Charlotte was a much better person, and better friend, than I. “I … thank you. I was just afraid—”
“I know,” she said, cutting me off. “I understand. But I will always be here for you.”
“Good,” I said. “Because I need you. I will always need you, but now I … I would ask your help again.”
She met my gaze levelly. “What is it?”
“Ichabod,” I said. I raised a hand at the look of surprise on her face. “I know he is never coming back. I have accepted that. Obviously. But I…” I took a deep breath and struggled to put into words the swirling, nebulous thoughts and decisions that had come upon me over the last few days, as memories plagued me at every turn. “I must know what happened to him. I cannot live not knowing the truth, and someday … someday my daughter deserves to know what became of her father. Whatever that truth may be.”
Charlotte held my eyes for a long time before she finally nodded. “Very well, then,” she said. “We will find out. We will find the truth. I swear it, on my very soul.”
“And I swear it on mine,” I said.
“And may the truth, when we find it, bring you peace.”
Her words sounded part promise, part benediction, and part warning.