Mother Knows Best

Chapter 4

Gingerly, I retrieve the nightgown Rosemarie has draped over the seat of my vanity and tiptoe behind my dressing screen. I'm still shy about undressing in front of my husband. Although Charles and I have been married for several months now, he's away so often that I still feel like we're newlyweds. And as this marriage was arranged out of necessity rather than love, we still tend to interact as strangers. He has certainly made great efforts to make me comfortable here, but our personalities and age difference have made it difficult to truly unite. We may share a house, a family, even a bed - but we do not yet truly share our lives.

I can hear Charles on the other side of the screen, shedding his clothes and dropping them into what I can only assume is a wrinkled pile on the floor. For being such a dignified and proper man, I'm always amazed at just how much of a slob he is. But then, he's never needed to be neat; he has never stepped outside of his world of maids and butlers.

I slide my nightgown silently over my head and fold my dress neatly over the dressing screen before stepping out from its protection. I stand awkwardly beside the comforting structure for a moment and survey the dark room. Only then do I realize I had no reason to be self-conscious after all. Charles is already in bed, reading, with only his bedside lantern lighting the room. He doesn't even glance up from his book as I make my way swiftly to the bed and slip under the sheets beside him.

Charles still does not so much as acknowledge my presence. He just continues turning pages in silence. I pause, expecting him to finish reading momentarily to engage in at least a little conversation, but it becomes clear he has no plans to put his book down anytime soon. Sighing in resignation, I pick up my own book from my nightstand and turn to the place I left off.

But just as I find myself immersed in the mystery within the pages, the room goes black. I look abruptly to Charles, who has just extinguished the lantern beside him. Realizing that he interrupted my reading, he looks at me apologetically and mutters, "Sorry dear, I didn't realize you hadn't lit your own lantern."

"I didn't think I needed to," I respond, replacing my bookmark and closing my book passive-aggressively. We continue to lie silently in the dark, separated by mere inches, yet worlds apart.

Without warning, there is movement under the sheets and I feel Charles's warm breath on my neck. I freeze as he kisses me, softly at first, working his way down my collarbone. As his affection begins to turn to passion, I interrupt.

"You haven't told me about your trip yet, dear," I mutter, squirming from his touch.

"It can wait," he says absently as his hands find my waist. He tries to pull me closer, but I resist.

"Why can't you just tell me now?" I unravel his fingers from my nightgown to get his attention. He sighs and rolls onto his back.

"What do you wish to know, Margaret?" He covers his eyes with his hand, attempting to hide his annoyance.

"Well..." I hesitate, not really sure how to answer. I still have only a vague understanding of what my husband does to provide for us. "Was it...successful?"

He lowers his hand and looks at me blankly in the dark. I try to pull back my question, wishing I'd never broken the awkward silence. It was more comfortable than this.

"Well I just mean...I was wondering...well..."

For all the emotional distance between my husband and myself, he is a kind man, and he rushes to save me from my embarrassment.

"Not as 'successful' as I would have liked," he says with a small smile. "I took several bolts of that new red velvet from the Oxfords, but the other merchants weren't as interested as I expected them to be. I returned with more than half of my supply."