Disclaimer: Again,I don't own anything related to "Corpse Bride" or its characters.

II.

Poor Victor, Victoria thought to herself as she walked back into her bedroom. He's just as nervous as I am. In a way, that realization made her feel a bit better--she wasn't alone. In another, the knowledge that Victor was nervous enough to start accidentally breaking china (that's what it had sounded like, at least) worried her a little. She had just assumed that Victor would know what to do...if anything was to be done. If he didn't, then it was the blind leading the blind. Or rather, the completely inexperienced leading the completely inexperienced.

Perhaps she was being unfair. After all, Victor was even more shy than she was. And really, whoever was more shy than Victoria was a very shy person indeed.

She closed the door to her room, and wondered what to do next. She was tired, but she didn't know whether she was supposed to go to sleep right away or not. What was the etiquette for wedding nights? Victoria hadn't a clue. It wasn't as though her mother had ever given her much advice. The topic of wedding nights was hardly one that could be openly discussed, even with one's mother--especially with Victoria's mother. And of course it wouldn't have been proper for Victoria to bring up the subject herself. All Victoria knew about wifely duties was that she was supposed to run the household, support her husband in whatever he did, and hopefully be his partner. And love him, Victoria thought to herself. Not that love was a requirement, according to her mother. But Victoria considered herself lucky. She happened to be very much in love with Victor, and wanted so much to make him happy. That evening in the parlor had been wonderful. Reading aloud, Victor's arm about her shoulders...their first kiss...

Victoria smiled at the memory. Yes, she was incredibly lucky. She was rather surprised that she and Victor had been able to marry at all, considering all that had happened. After all, Victoria was technically a widow. Etiquette required that she would have to wait at least three years, or more, before marrying again. Disloyal as it was, Victoria was rather glad that her father and mother had been reduced to gibbering messes that night the dead had walked in the town square. Proper protocol had been the last thing on their minds. Yet they were still very aware of Victor's money, so of course the marriage had been allowed to go ahead.

Sitting down on her bed next to her unopened travel case, Victoria thought back to the evening after she had married Barkis. She could hardly repress a shudder. She had married a murderer. Maybe she was lucky that she wasn't quite sure what to expect on a wedding night--whatever it was, it certainly wouldn't have been enjoyable with him. It was very likely she wouldn't have lived to see the morning. Victoria didn't even want to consider what might have happened to her had not Fate, in the form of poison, intervened. She probably would have wound up like that poor corpse woman Victor had married.

The corpse woman Victor had married. She said the words to herself a few times. Victoria wondered vaguely why it didn't bother her. Perhaps because everything had turned out for the best. She hated to think what Victor must have felt when he learned that she had married someone else. They hadn't talked about it, about any of it--at least not yet. It was all so...bizarre. That night, after Barkis's death, she and Victor had simply walked back into the village, their arms about each other. They hadn't needed to say anything. Victoria was sure that once they'd had a bit more time, she and Victor would be able to discuss what had happened. It took some time to get over, however.

Heaven knew that neither set of parents were quite over the events of that night. Everyone except Victor and Victoria (and perhaps Gertrude, the widowed neighbor lady) seemed quite inclined to forget that the whole ordeal ever happened. Victoria knew that Victor wouldn't forget, though, and neither would she. Secretly, Victoria had promised herself that she would honor the memory of that woman. It was the very least she could do--after all, the other bride had been selfless enough to give her Victor back. A noble action. Victoria admired her for it. She hoped that the woman would rest peacefully, knowing things were set right. And that Victor would be well cared for.

Victoria decided that for the time being, she would be content with that knowledge. After all, she and Victor were husband and wife now--they had a lifetime in which to discuss what had gone before. What mattered now was the present. Their wedding night. Speaking of which, where was Victor?

Again Victoria wondered what she should do. She only had the vaguest idea of what went on between married couples behind closed doors. What little she knew came from a book she'd found among her late Aunt Lavinia's things two years ago. Victoria had been looking for a spare embroidery hoop in the attic when she'd come across the book. Out of curiosity she'd opened it and begun to read, sitting among the dusty boxes. Soon enough she realized that this was the sort of book that would get her strung up by her toes from the rafters if her mother caught her with it. It was a romance, set in the days of the knights. Silly, nonsensical fluff was Victoria's final pronouncement on the story. Yet it was intriguing nonsensical fluff. There were love scenes, for one thing. Kisses Victoria knew about, but this book went into a bit more detail. Of course the chapter always ended before anything...untoward happened, but Victoria got the idea. There were a lot of twinges, carresses, and racing heartbeats. And kisses. But that was about it. While she'd learned several synonyms for "heaving," Victoria was still pretty much in the dark about what came next. If anything came next. She just didn't know.

It wasn't as though her mother had been much help. The closest Lady Everglot had come to informing her daughter about wedding nights had been one sentence of advice on the morning of her marriage. Victoria was to "close her eyes, and just try to think of something pleasant." What that meant, Victoria had no idea--and she had had no desire to try to question her mother further.

Well, what will happen will happen, Victoria told herself. Somewhat comforted, but still battling what felt like a nest of snakes in her stomach, Victoria decided she might has well prepare for bed. It might take a bit longer than usual--Hildegarde, her old nurse, wasn't there to help anymore. Slowly Victoria began to undress, stopping about every five seconds to glance at her bedroom door, making sure Victor didn't come walking in on her. Oh, but surely he would knock, Victoria thought, shaking the wrinkles from her nightgown and keeping a steady eye on the door. Or would he? She suddenly remembered that there were two entrances to her room. There was the door she was standing guard at, and then there was the one behind her--the door that opened directly from Victor's room into hers. What if he'd walked in already! He'd catch her in nothing but her petticoats and corset!

Victoria spun around, expecting to see Victor standing there in the doorway of his room. But no. The door was still closed.She let out a sigh of relief, and cautiously began to attempt taking off her corset. As she did so, she backed into the far corner of the room. Inconvient and dark, as the lamplight coming from her bedside table didn't throw itself that far, but at least she could keep an eye on both doors at once.

For at least two minutes, Victoria struggled vainly with the corset. Hildegarde had always tied her into it in the morning, and then assisted her in taking it off at bedtime. How in the world did she manage it? The thing was impossible. Eventually Victoria gave up, and decided she could stand sleeping in her corset until she learned how to negotiate it for herself. Or perhaps Victor will help me with it, she thought. Immediately she blushed. That couldn't be proper, not at all. Although...although her mother had said that marriage was a partnership, hadn't she? Perhaps if I helped Victor with his cravat and waistcoat, he could help me with my corset. Teamwork. Victoria let out a high-pitched giggle before she could stop herself.

Oh perfect. She was becoming absolutely giddy with nervousness. What a way to greet her new husband, if he ever showed up; as an inane, giggling mess of nerves. Ashamed of herself, Victoria quickly slipped her nightgown over her head. Walking back over to her bed, she was halfway through turning down the covers on one side before she stopped. She didn't feel very tired anymore.

I'll give him an hour, Victoria thought, and then I'm going to sleep. She picked up her travel case and carried it to the wingback chair near the window, well inside the circle of lamplight. Taking out some embroidery, Victoria settled herself in the chair. She tried to focus on her sewing. Yet her eyes kept moving toward the doors, and she realized that she was keeping her ears keened toward any noise. Was that a footstep? Is that Victor? Such thoughts kept interrupting her work.

And yet she wondered...Was she keeping such sharp eyes and ears out of nervousness, or out of expectation? Expectation certainly wouldn't be very proper or ladylike. But the fact was (and Victoria was a little shocked to admit it), she very much wanted Victor to come into her room.

To say goodnight, at the very least.