. . .
THE CRUCIVERBALIST COURTSHIP
Chapter Nine - Summer 1937 (part 1)
"I don't want to take it off," Amy whispered, her voice full of wistfulness, looking at her reflection in the full-length mirror.
Gazing back at her was another version of herself. There was the same dreamy expression, but everything else was different, new, more beautiful than she would have thought possible. The long white gown, narrow through the waist, the bodice and puff shoulders embellished with fine French lace, the silk skirt and train pooling around her like a waterfall. On her hand flashed the outrageous gray diamond and pearl ring, worn for the special occasion. Miraculously, Penny and Bernadette had found a way to coax her straight hair into the bouncy fashionable curls she always wanted. Falling over her hair was a diaphanous veil, the top fitted snugly in a Juliet cap. The lace trim was not so fine as that on her gown, but the veil had cost exactly three pounds. And there, crowning it all, was the Medford tiara. Amy had worried it would be heavy or wobbly, but it perched lightly and securely on her head as though it was made for her. It felt like a perfect metaphor for the day.
Even now it seemed like a dream, a gauzy dream spun of the same stuff that, after days of dark clouds, had opened the heavens this morning with sunlight, a beautiful early summer's day. She tried to recall it all, to commit every detail to memory: breakfast and dressing with her friends here in the newly remodeled master suite, enduring the visit from her mother, meeting her shy father at the bottom of the Medford grand staircase, the ride with him and Penny to the parish church.
Her rolling stomach stilled when the doors swung open over the swell of the organ and the tugs of Penny arranging her train behind her as she stepped over the threshold; for he was there, standing at the end of the aisle in a gray morning suit and striped cravat. He was just as tall and as handsome as she remembered, and she looked into his intense blue eyes and never glanced away. Amy didn't remember walking toward him. Rather, it was as though she was being pulled forward, everything in her relaxing from the stretch she'd been holding for as long as she could recall. Her lungs filled deep with the heady air of the church, the sweet scent of pink roses from the estate.
When her father passed her hand to Sheldon's, everything whirled for a second until he squeezed her fingers, and then her whole life settled into his secure grasp. She remembered nothing of the service. It was short; Sheldon had dictated it would be so, he insisted on nothing too religious even as they stood before the vicar in a church. They were supposed to face forward towards him, but they could not; instead their bodies angled toward the match they had found. Suddenly, she heard herself repeating vows, words that should have meant almost nothing as they had been used and abused by so many before. Yet she found they meant everything, and she recited them slowly, letting her brain visualize each one and all its meanings and hidden clues, letting each syllable form fully and clearly on her tongue.
At the last moment, Sheldon had ordered a change from the traditional order of things, and so, at the end, she said, her voice loud and clear, "Only for your presence, I make this vow."
Some things were too sacred to be shared with anyone else, even God.
The rest was a blur: the simple gold band on her finger, the sudden cacophonous but joyous ringing of the bells, running out under the rice, laughing and climbing into Rajesh's bright red roadster, decorated with flowers and tin cans, waving at the cheering villagers who lined the few short blocks to the lane up the hill. It, too, was lined but this time with the farmers from the estate: old men and young boys, the gaping hole in the middle filled by those strong land girls that Sheldon had invited back, all waving enthusiastically.
Amy had not cried, not a single tear, until they approached the broad circle in the front of Medford Hall. There, aligned in a perfect angle with their backs straight and their faces firm, were the servants. Only a handful, not nearly so many as there had once been, but all of them were dressed in their finest, even Mrs. Sparks, leaning onto her cane.
"What's this?" Amy asked Sheldon as Rajesh pulled to a stop.
"It's for you," Sheldon answered before he helped her out of the back seat.
Stuart bowed first, deep from his waist. "Your Ladyship. Welcome to Medford Hall. We are at your service."
One by one, they bowed or curtsied, each uttering the same formal and precise phrase, until, at the end, was Billy Sparks, stuffed into a suit that looked most unlike him, although one of the estate cats stood at his side and that seemed appropriate. It was he who added, "We're so happy you're going to stay now. It puts Master Shelly in a good mood."
Amy laughed and then someone, the footmen she thought, exclaimed "Here here!" and then some else cried, "Three cheers for Lady Cooper!" They all called out her new name three times, and it was then that tears of joy sprang from her eyes, just as other guests rolled up the lane behind them.
The wedding breakfast was served on the terrace, half-shaded by a white marquee. A picnic atmosphere filled the air, and Amy was so glad she had insisted on this type of breakfast and not a stuffy affair in the ballroom. There was a grand buffet and lemonade, and Rajesh's suggestion, over Sheldon's protests, of croquet and bowling on the lawn had proven an excellent ice breaker for the various guests from the assorted corners of their lives. The giant white cake was cut and then wheeled away to be shared with anyone who walked up the drive to get a slice in the great hall.
There was a moment when Amy leaned against Sheldon as they sat side-by-side, each eating their cake. They watched Penny and Mr. David Gibbs battle out a tie-breaking round of lawn bowling. Penny had removed her shoes for better traction, she claimed, and Amy's mother gasped at the sight of bare feet and said something about Americans. Amy merely shrugged and leaned against her handsome husband.
"Are you happy?" he whispered.
"So very happy."
"Me, too." He slipped his hand into hers and turned to press a tender kiss against her hair but then said, "Ugh! The tiara just poked me!"
Already, the memories filtered and refracted in the late afternoon light, and Amy smiled at her reflection. So very happy.
"I don't want to take it off," she repeated.
"You would rather have us take it off than Sheldon rip it up the back and scatter buttons all over the floor," Bernadette said, peering over her shoulder, breaking the spell of recollection.
"Ouch. That sounds like the voice of experience," Penny added, appearing over the other shoulder. "But she's right."
"But what if I want Sheldon to take me like an animal?" Amy asked.
"Not tonight, you don't," Penny answered, starting to remove the pins that held the tiara and veil in place. Amy saw her bite her lip in the mirror. "Sweetie . . . you do know what to expect, right?"
"Of course I do."
"I mean, I don't want you to be surprised."
Amy frowned at Penny's suddenly serious face as the tiara was lifted away. "Why would I?"
"She wants to know if you have any questions," Bernadette added, helping with the buttons down Amy's back. "Or if you want to know how something happens."
"I know how it happens!" Amy said. Suddenly she felt foolish, all dressed up like a lady, but her friends only saw her as a child because she'd never been with a man.
"Sweetie." Penny put a hand on her sleeve. "It's just that you read a lot of romance novels, even dirty French ones, and well . . . you know Sheldon's never been with a woman?"
"Yes, but I don't see -"
"She means it will not be enjoyable."
"Bernadette!" Penny snapped. "I said tactful and subtle, remember?"
So they had planned this. Amy took a deep breath and silently forgave them. They were only trying to be helpful because they cared. And she did wonder if she'd built it up too much in her head after waiting so long for it to happen. In truth, she wasn't exactly sure what to expect or how Sheldon would behave.
"Listen," Penny wrapped an arm around her shoulder and leaned her head against hers, in that overly-friendly way Americans had, "it's just that a man's first time, well, it's usually really fast and they're all thumbs."
"But not where you want the thumb," Bernadette offered, standing on Amy's other side.
Ignoring her, Penny said, "But it gets better, okay? Sheldon is not a physical guy and he's afraid of everything - I mean, he's never mastered croquet - so it will probably take some practice. I don't want you to be disappointed. But he is a good man and he really loves you and he wants you to be happy."
"And, maybe at first, do not look down," Bernadette offered. "The penis, it is ugly."
Penny burst out laughing and even Amy couldn't help but smile. "Okay, okay, it kind of is," Penny gathered herself, "but just roll with it in the moment because, well, it's useful."
Then they all started to giggle, a joyous, light-hearted break, and Amy wrapped her arms around both of them. When the laughter subsided, they helped her change into a pretty floral frock for tea, and they told her stories from their honeymoons. As Amy listened, she wondered if Howard and Leonard were somewhere with Sheldon, giving him any advice for the coming night.
After tea and conversation in the drawing room, their friends were all packed like tinned sardines into Rajesh's roadster, the cans and flowers having been removed. Amy and Sheldon stood at the front door to Medford Hall, waving to them as they roared down the lane. Once they'd turned from view, Amy lowered her hand and turned to go fully inside, but her toe of her new cream pump caught on the edge of the threshold.
"Oh!"
"What is it?" Sheldon asked as she looked down. "Did your shoe break?"
"No, it's fine." She smiled at him. "It just reminded me of the day I left Medford for the first time. My foot was on the threshold, just as it is now, and you stopped me from stepping over the edge."
"You wanted to be stopped, as I recall."
"I did. Very much so."
"Then why did you make it so difficult for me?" Sheldon shook his head.
Amy chuckled just as Mr. Bloom approached. "Your Ladyship, shall I set a cold dinner out in the dining room? Perhaps at seven?"
"Um -" She turned to look at Sheldon. "Isn't that where we eat?"
"You're the mistress now. We will eat when and where you decide," he explained.
"Well . . . " she glanced between Stuart and Sheldon's expectant faces, "that sounds lovely, but I'm not really hungry right now. I thought maybe we could - um . . ."
"Indeed, Madam," Stuart interrupted her just as her face flushed and she'd never been so grateful. "Shall I have Cook put some cold sandwiches on a tray for you and I'll just leave them . . . on the hall table upstairs? And, if it's all right with you, I'll tell everyone downstairs that we're done for the evening?"
Amy exhaled slowly. "Yes, that's sounds perfect. Thank you."
Stuart gave a little bow and left, and Amy noticed Sheldon's neck craned to watch him go.
"Amy, why would we eat in the hallway upstairs? There aren't even any chairs unless you count that old wooden throne in the gallery."
She reached for his hand. "I thought maybe we could go upstairs now."
"And wait for the sandwiches?"
"No, Sheldon." She leaned closer to murmur in a way she hoped sounded enticing, "I thought we could be intimate. It's our wedding night."
"But it's still light outside."
"We're above the fifty-second parallel and it's June; the sun doesn't officially set until after ten."
He swallowed, but managed to say, his voice more hoarse then usual, "Well, when you bring solar positioning into it, how can I resist?"
They held hands up the stairs and through the gallery and into the broad hallway that led to their new master suite. After Sheldon shut the door behind them, they turned to look at each other.
"Here we are," Sheldon said. "Upstairs."
"Yes." Amy gulped. "We've been alone in a bedroom before."
"Indeed. And this is just the sitting room. Strictly speaking."
"Of course." Amy looked around. Lucy must have come during tea as the room was straightened, all traces of wedding finery put away and even the full-length mirror was gone, probably back in the dressing room.
"Right. Yes." Sheldon snapped up taller. "I shall bathe and undress and meet you in your room? I assume you wish to, um, undress as well."
After agreeing, they went to opposite ends of the sitting room and into their respective bedrooms. Amy had wondered all along if they would sleep separately; she hoped not. Her heart pounded out a rapid beat in her chest as she quickly removed all her clothing in her bathroom. She didn't wait for the bath to fill; instead, she got in while it was still shallow and washed as quickly as she could, careful not to dampen her curls. Too nervous and eager to linger, she got out before the hot water even cooled. Then, taking deep breaths, she inserted her device just as she'd practiced. All that was left was to lower the flimsy white negligee over her shoulders. Although it gathered below her bust, it had no other shape, and when Amy went to her dressing room to look at herself in the mirror, it hid nothing, her areoles and the dark patch of hair between her thighs visible through the gauze. At least the matching dressing gown was solid satin, and she tied it firmly at her waist.
Returning to her bedroom, she noted the bed covers had been pulled back and there seemed to be extra pillows, fluffed high. The curtains had been drawn although enough sunlight seeped around the edges to give the room a warm glow. Her cheeks burned slightly at the idea of Lucy or one of the other maids preparing this bed, imagining what would be happening here. She heard a noise of rushing water and opened the door to the sitting room; it was clear Sheldon was just now running a bath in his bathroom. Anxious and seeking a way to calm herself, she went to her dressing table, fingering the beautiful set of silver brushes and such laid out there, before she ran her fingers through her hair. Much of the curl had come loose as the evening had progressed, and now it fell in soft ringlets around her face.
The sound of water continued and Amy remembered that Sheldon mentioned he preferred showers over baths; something about sitting in one's own filth. She decided to settle on the foot of the bed, the first thing Sheldon would see when he joined her. She arranged herself first one way and then another, and then she untied her dressing gown to allow a bit of flesh to peek out.
But the sound of Sheldon's shower continued and her arm ached after holding her up in the reclining position she thought made her look the most beckoning, and she sat up, kicking her bare feet like a little girl over the edge of the high bed. What was taking so long? Surely his skin would be as pink as a sunburn from all that scrubbing. She picked at the edges of the tie of her dressing gown, she smoothed down the two large ribbons that held the negligee up over her shoulders, she arranged her ringlets around her shoulders and she sighed. Was he really waiting for dark?
At last, the sound of the Sheldon's shower stopped but the silence that followed seemed interminable. Unable to endure the wait, she took off the dressing gown, tossing it at the foot of the bed, and pulled up the covers to slide under them on one side of the bed. Would Sheldon have a preference? But here, too, she felt awkward, after she smoothed the covers over her lap and tucked them under her arms to cover her breasts. The bed was so large and everything so billowy she felt small and she worried that made her appear timid. She did not wish to appear timid because she did not feel that way. Nervous, unsure, yes, but not timid.
Just then there was a soft knock at her bedroom door, and she called for Sheldon to enter. He was not so pink as to appear sunburned after all, and, in fact, looked quite dashing in what she imagined were a new pair of solid blue pajamas with a matching dressing gown.
"Hello," they both said at the same time, and for some reason it made Amy blush.
Sheldon padded to the other side of the bed, removing and folding his dressing gown. He paused and then removed and folded his pajama top, too, leaving just a plain white jersey shirt with his trousers. Amy watched him carefully, wondering how much he would remove, but then he lifted the blankets and got in next to her. Such was the size of the bed that there was still a gulf between them.
"Sheld -" Amy -" They both stopped and then smiled at each other. It was he who spoke again first, licking his lips, "As you know, I've never done this before."
"Neither have I."
"I just want you to know before I begin, that I am trying."
"I know." Amy reached for him, wanting to save him any more words. She kissed him, pulling him closer, wanting to let him know he had nothing for which to be embarrassed.
He pressed her back, not unkindly, and suddenly they were lying together, with his weight half on top of her. Already Amy could feel his arousal through his pajamas. Things were already moving faster than she expected. His hand reached up and cupped her breast.
Breaking the kiss, he whispered in her ear as he toyed with her nipple, "Like this?"
"Yes."
"You'll tell me? If you don't like something, if I do it wrong or if I should stop?"
"Yes."
But Amy could not imagine wishing him to stop, as he held her breast and kissed her at the same time. She squeezed her eyes as arousal pooled deep within her, hotter than she ever remembered when she touched her own breasts. Enraptured so, aching with desire, she did not notice his hand finding its way beneath the volume of the negligee and she gasped when she felt his fingers brushing her inner thigh.
"Amy," he let go of her breast and she managed to open her eyes to look at him. "Perhaps, now, I may touch you? It is not such a vague concept to me anymore."
"Y - yes. Of course."
The first hesitant brush of his fingertip caused an unexpected jolt of heat the flush up her body and she gave out a small whimper. Either he had stumbled upon the right spot or he had, indeed, studied well. His finger stopped. "Am I hurting you?"
"No - no. Right there."
One or twice, Amy had smacked a man's hand away from the inner edge of her knee but never once had she been touched there by another. And what another it was! She could not believe how different it felt from her own hand. It was not, she was able to reason out, exactly how she would have liked it. He was stroking, not circling, and, in his growing confidence, it had become almost too urgent and her body flinched.
"Gentle," she said.
Sheldon stopped and stared down at her. "I'm sorry."
"It's fine. Just . . . slower."
He nodded and resumed. It was better, still not exactly how she would have preferred it, but it was not uncomfortable anymore. Despite his lack of skill, she had never imagined it could feel this way, and, despite the firm rushing of his actions, she was surprised to find something else rushing at her -
"Oh!" Then she clenched her teeth shut just in time as a small cry threatened to escape her throat. It was not the longest or best climax she'd even had, but something had defiantly peaked within her.
"Amy?"
Opening, her eyes, she felt dazed, realizing she didn't know if it had been the reality of the situation or the just wait for his touch that had brought her to climax. But she smiled at him, grateful not just for the physical release but that he'd put the effort into doing this for her.
It was then she noticed the sheen of perspiration on his forehead, whether from anxiety or fear or the physical impatience he was trying to control, she did not know. She put her palm on his cheek. "It's alright. I'm ready."
Nature had made him eager, and in his enthusiasm there was no time to be worried about how silly for him to struggle to lower his pajama bottoms under the blankets or how it felt to rearrange themselves so and suddenly he was between her thighs, and she felt the tip of him poking her once, twice, and then, blessedly, he managed to find her and push in too quickly, stopping himself when Amy gasped. She took a gulp, not expecting him to feel so large.
"Am I hurting you?" he panted in her ear.
"Some," she admitted.
"I'm so sorry." He kissed her cheek gently, and it was only then she realized a tear had escaped. "I can stop."
"No. No. It must be done."
"Are you sure?"
She nodded, the pain receding. He lowered his head, burying it into her neck and pressed forward, sliding slowly this time. Amy concentrated on the bed canopy past Sheldon's hair, exhaling through the discomfort. He entered her at depth she had not imagined. He stopped again, breathing sharply into her hair. Knowing he was trying to give her time to adjust, she put her arms around him, feeling the sweat through the back of his white jersey shirt.
"Amy, I can't - I need - I don't - " he whimpered into the depths of her ear.
"Go ahead." She sealed her permission with a kiss to his damp hair. Then, he thrust quickly, three, four times, each burning a path inside her, before giving a strangled, groaning cry, something low and desperate and Amy knew he was emptying into her.
He collapsed onto her and she patted his back in time with his pants. "I'm sorry," he whispered. "As it turned out, that wasn't a very good effort."
"It was - that is, I'm glad it was with you."
Sheldon pulled up and away from her, and Amy found herself unexpectedly cold. Not just from the heat and weight of his body upon her, but from the new spaces within her that he had claimed and then left.
Suddenly he seemed shy, as he adjusted his pajamas beneath the covers, his eyes avoiding hers. Lying down next to her, Amy glanced over him. Only then did he meet her gaze. "Thank you," he said, patting her arm as though she'd brought him a cup of tea. Then his eyes darted off again, as he rolled facing the other way.
The bed was large enough Amy had to pull herself close, and she curled up behind him. With trepidation, she wrapped her arm around his waist, willing him to relax beneath her touch. She longed to know what he was thinking, what tumults lurked beneath the surface.
She wanted to express to him that it was not so unenjoyable as Bernadette predicted or as she suspected he felt it was to her. But she also wanted to tell him that Penny had promised it would get better. Unable to find a way to express such potentially conflicting concepts, she settled for whispering, "I love you."
His hand reaching for hers on his stomach, pulling it closer to his chest. "I love you, too," he murmured.
Maybe he already knew.
To be continued . . .
It is most likely Amy would have used a cervical cap for contraceptive purposes, as it was the most widely used barrier method of contraception in Britain at the time.
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