THE BED SPRINGS SQUEAKETH
William couldn't stall any longer. Julia had arranged for dinner to be served in their suite at the Windsor House Hotel at precisely 7pm. William prided himself on leading an orderly life. He was nothing if not prompt.
He ceased circling the block and coasted his bicycle to a halt at the rear carriage entrance of the hotel. To his surprise, a valet hurried to his side to offer to secure his vehicle for him. William started to reach into his pocket for a tip, but then he remembered that Julia had assured him that he would not have to worry about extortionate bellboys here: long-term guests added gratuities to their bill at the end of the month.
As William crossed the glittering lobby, nodding and half-bowing at other esteemed guests of the hotel as appropriate, his trepidation mounted. He was a plain man, accustomed to a simple life. This amount of luxury was almost obscene to him. Of course he realized Julia was raised to finer things, and he had a beautiful vision of building her a house as grand as any in Rosedale, but lavished with every modern wonder of electricity, gas, and steam. It would take time for William to realize that vision with his bare hands, however. In the mean time, they had to live somewhere, and multiple parties had averred in no uncertain terms that Julia would not be happy at Mrs. Kitchen's boarding house.
Julia had sold her own house and moved into the Windsor House Hotel shortly after he proposed. Her motives had been many: to finally cut ties with her disreputable life as Darcy Garland's divorcee and the shadows of his death, to divest herself of properties associated with her former marriage to make sure that Leslie Garland no longer had the least claw-hold on her life, and perhaps even to hint that William should begin to look for a house where they could start their married life together afresh. But William hadn't taken that hint. Or any of the numerous hints she dropped as she redirected their strolls through Toronto's lovely residential neighborhoods.
Finally, a week before the wedding, Julia invited William for tea. She wore her most fetching mauve dress, which she knew William adored, unbuttoned the top three buttons, and all but sat in his lap as she gently made the suggestion that they should trade her room up to a suite at the Windsor House Hotel after they got married - at least until they found a house. Before William could protest the cost, Julia reassured him that the rates were most reasonable for long term guests. And the conveniences were almost necessities considering that they both led professional lives. William didn't expect Julia to start cooking for him or ironing his shirts did he? No William didn't expect that. At the Windsor House Hotel, their rooms would be cleaned, their meals would be prepared, their linens would be bleached. Everything would be done by professional staff - they wouldn't have to deal with hiring servants. Since the thought of hiring a servant hadn't even occurred to William, conceded her point.
Then Julia tossed off that one might even consider staying at a hotel a sort of permanent honeymoon.
Ah, she could be quite the vixen when she wanted to be.
William was an old-fashioned man who still held the traditional rites of wedlock in holy esteem, and he was desperately aching for their conjugal union. The more union the better. She had him.
Julia of course realized William's desire to please her would be warring with a lifetime of frugal middle class habits. So while they were in Manhattan she somehow casually arranged for Nikola Tesla, a man William very much admired, to run into them at Delmonico's. Tesla himself lived at the Waldorf Astoria in Manhattan, and he sung the praises of how the amenities of the hotel made the rest of his life work in invention and engineering possible. If living in a hotel was good enough for William's hero Nikola Tesla, surely it was good enough for William. It was probably not a coincidence that Julia was again wearing William's favorite mauve dress, with the top three buttons unbuttoned, and again almost sitting in his lap. Except this time William didn't have to suffer over it.
After dinner they went back to the hotel room, and William showed Julia just how inventive he could really be when he set his mind to it. Unfortunately, the mauve dress did not survive the remainder of that night.
So that was what led to William now riding a brass-gilt elevator up to his hotel suite like a toff. Julia had come directly to the hotel after their train arrived from Manhattan that morning to oversee the unpacking of their luggage and final arrangements for their suite. William had wanted to check in with Inspector Brackenreid and the status of his cases at Station House 4 first: and once there he found plenty of work to keep him there for the day. The Inspector practically had to push him out the door when shift ended at 5pm.
The first rule is never keep the wife waiting at dinner, his Svengali of the Uxorious Arts warned him.
William checked his pocket watch as he stepped out of the elevator. 6:45pm. He was still a responsible husband, leading an orderly life. Very good.
A few seconds later he found the door. Even though he had his own key, he knocked. Perhaps Julia was dressing. Perhaps the "staff" was still setting out dinner. How was he to know how to behave as a permanent hotel guest. The whole thing was terribly uncomfortable.
Julia opened the door, wearing little but her red oriental evening robe and a frilly wisp of negligee underneath.
"Julia!" William scolded, looking both ways down the hall as he pushed her back into the room, "It's only 7pm. Anyone could see you-"
Julia engaged him for a kiss before he could continue to fuss, draping herself around him, and encouraging him to enjoy himself as much as she was. "This is our home William. We can do as wish."
"What about dinner-?" William looked around wildly, as if he expected the staff to pop out of the patterns in the wallpaper.
"You just missed them."Julia reassured him. "Prawns D'Oree over melba toast awaits us on the table."
"Beef stew would have been fine for me." William frowned, wondering what the billing implications of French cuisine would be.
"Don't make that face, I know you love seafood swimming in butter sauce." Julia ushered him to the table, "Just think of this as preparation for that journey to Europe we're going to take some day. Pretend we're already in Paris, the city of romance."
William blushed: the way Julia was dressed, it didn't take much for his imagination to go there. He seated her at the table, and poured her a glass of wine before he sat down himself. Everything seemed so strange and dream-like. William suddenly had the vague impression that he was living out a story from a childhood book of fairy tales. By day he lived a normal life, but at night he was the consort of a princess in the enchanted castle. Yes, that's where he was - an enchanted castle.
After dinner, Julia gave William a tour of the suite. He was not sure whether to marvel at or worry about the care with which she had seen to his comfort. His suits hung neatly in his own armoire. He had his own book case, where the books were already arranged by the Dewey Decimal System. An alcove which would normally serve as a breakfast nook would provide a work table for any ad hoc chemistry or mechanics. Neatly labeled trunks, boxes, and toolkits were stashed beneath the table.
Best of all was a leather-upholstered club chair, which Julia dubbed "William's chair" by the fire. Beside the chair resided a basket brimming with Scientific American, Popular Mechanics, and other magazines for edifying evening reading. William settled into his chair and began to read an article about how magnetic fields could affect the wavelengths of light, but before he could get comfortable Julia pulled him into the bedroom.
There was nothing that thrilled William more than the feeling of Julia peeling off his clothes, and carelessly flinging them about as they ravished each other with kisses..He chuckled to himself about the Inspector's well-meant advice about nothing good coming from women being in charge. Not only had the Inspector misjudged William's "experience" with Julia, he had no idea how letting a woman take charge could invigorate the virile passions. Ever since Julia had come to him in a bowler hat and tie, pushed him into bed...well, try as he might, he couldn't suppress the cravings for a repeat performance.
Julia slowly backed away from him, letting him imbibe the full picture of her body bound only by flimsies and corset, white stockings-and garters: "Ready to do your duty as a husband?" She beckoned as she backed toward the bed.
William smiled, loosening his tie - the only item of clothing she had left him and followed her, "It would be my honor and privilege to consummate our union."
Before he could remove the tie, Julia caught it and pulled him to her. Then after a tempestuous kiss, she pushed him on the bed. William could feel his whole body flush as she climbed on top of him. And then-
...then there was a squeak. Not a quiet squeak - a very loud, distracting squeak, coming from the general vicinity of the bed springs.
William tried to ignore it and soldier on. But he could not. Their every movement elicited more squeaks. The accurate way it reflected their rhythm began to seem perversely conspiratorial.
Whatever the cause, William couldn't concentrate on matters at hand.
"I'm sorry-" William finally said.
"I know." Julia agreed sadly, dismounting.
William held her arm, hoping she needn't move so quickly. Julia stayed, leaning forward to rest on William's chest. The motion caused the bed to rock gently, with squeaks in time.
"I could ask the concierge for an oil can and oil the springs." William proposed.
Julia snorted with laughter. William pushed her mop of hair of the way trying to discern what was so funny. Weren't they in a bit of a hurry to get on with things?
"Or we could just call the concierge to change rooms."
"That would involve moving our luggage and disrupting our current activities."
"We don't necessarily have to stay on the bed." Julia started to look around. "What other furnishings do we have-"
"Julia!" William cried. "This is the first night in our married home! We're consummating our union here in our marriage bed!"
Julia hopped out of bed, gathering half the sheets as a makeshift robe. "Let's lay some blankets before the fire." She smiled mischievously as she turned and leaned against the door frame. "It might not be the traditional first night of marriage you were planning for, but with a bit of experiment I'd wager we'll hit upon something even more interesting."
"Yes, experiment always does turn out well for us." William agreed, and followed.