III.

"I'm all right, everything is fine," Victor repeated the words like a mantra as he reached the top of the stairs. Squinting in the feeble light, Victor could make out the doors on the opposite wall. The bedroom doors. He knew from his and Victoria's earlier tour of the house that the door on the right was his, the one on the left hers--and there was an adjoining door inside.

Wonderful. New dilemma: which door? Should he go into his room first, and then go through the adjoining door to Victoria's room? Or perhaps he should visit his room first, perhaps put his nightclothes on, then come back out into the hallway and knock on the outer door? No, no. What if Victoria was still dressed, and Victor showed up in her room with his nightshirt on? Whatever would she think then? Or what if he found Victoria...undressed? At that thought the ice block that had been resting on Victor's chest plopped down into his stomach. He shook his head a little to clear it. Surely, surely it wasn't normal to be this terrified--although he really didn't know, since his father hadn't mentioned it. What was wrong with him? It wasn't as though he didn't find Victoria attractive--he did, very much so (and perhaps, he thought, deep down, that's part of what's scaring me so much). It was just...Victor had to stop and think. What was the matter with him? Well for heaven's sake, I love Victoria, he thought. I find her attractive, and most of all, I respect her. How in the world can I do...well, that with a clear conscience? He really and truly hoped that Victoria wasn't feeling the same way he was. Victor wouldn't wish this kind of fear and trepidation on anybody.

Enough. This was getting ridiculous. The longer he waited, the worse it would be. He was a married man now, and he had to stop being so...so...spineless. Perhaps it was best to just forge ahead, knock on Victoria's door, and see what happened. Never mind getting prepared for bed just yet, never mind trying to analyze motives. The last thing he needed was an excuse to delay further. I will do what I am supposed to do, Victor thought to himself. No more excuses. Besides, it's Victoria--I love her. And she loves me. Victor gulped. I hope she still does in the morning...

Quickly, so that he didn't have a chance to think twice about it, Victor strode over to Victoria's door. He raised a fist, bit his lip, and knocked gently. Immediately he dropped his hand and took a step back. There was no sound from Victoria's room. Evidently, she hadn't heard him. Or else she was asleep. Well, if she's asleep, I really shouldn't disturb her...No! Stop that! No more delays! Victor sighed. He'd have to knock harder.

Just as he was raising his hand to knock again, Victor heard soft footsteps on the other side of the door. Before he could compose himself, the door opened, and there stood Victoria. Victoria. In her nightgown.

"Hello, Victor," she said, smiling as she pulled her wrap a bit closer around her shoulders. She pulled the door open a bit wider, and Victor was bathed in the yellow glow of the lamplight coming from her bedside table.

"Hel...Hello, Victoria," he said. He ran a hand nervously through his hair, and immediately felt like a fool. He should at least attempt to be suave. So Victor dropped his hand from his hair and tried to put it nonchalantly in his coat pocket. Victoria continued to gaze at him as he tried to find his pocket without looking away from her. What happened to my pocket? he asked himself. And then, Oh, that's right--this coat doesn't have pockets.

Victor coughed and settled for putting his arm behind his back. He was trying to think of something to say that wouldn't make him sound like a complete ninny when, as though sensing his discomfort, Victoria came to his rescue.

"Have you come to say goodnight?" she asked, folding her hands in front of her. "I was just preparing for bed. Well, actually, I've already prepared for bed, I was just doing some embroidery while..." Victoria didn't finish her sentence. Instead, she looked down at the floor. What had she paused for?

"While...?" Victor asked, trying to prompt her. Then it dawned on him. "Oh! I...You were waiting for, er, me, then?" Perhaps this was a good sign. She hadn't locked the door on him, for one thing. And it was rather heartwarming that Victoria had sat up waiting for him.

Still looking at the floor, Victoria replied, "Yes, of course. I supposed that you'd be in to..." she paused, while Victor drew an anxious breath. How much did Victoria know, anyway? It wasn't as though Victor had shared with her what his father had said. Had her mother explained to her...No. Victor didn't want to venture down that avenue of thought. Besides, if Victoria knew what was supposed to occur tonight, there wasn't a chance that she would have willingly opened the door for him.

"Be in to say goodnight," Victoria finished. Inwardly Victor sighed with relief. But his relief didn't last long--if Victoria thought he was just here to say "goodnight," she was in for an incredibly rude awakening. Oh! Victor thought to himself, disgusted, Did I honestly just think that? How dare I? He looked at Victoria's face, trying to read her expression. She didn't look frightened, which was good. She looked happy to see him, which was very good. But Victor also thought he saw a bit of nervousness in her eyes. Victor didn't want her to be nervous, but how could he help it? Perhaps he could reassure her...somehow...Then it occurred to him that he hadn't answered Victoria yet.

He must have made quite the sight, standing there in the dark hallway holding a candle and staring into the middle distance as he argued with himself. Again, Victoria took matters into her own hands, for which Victor was grateful.

"Would you like to come in?" she asked. Victor was a little surprised at her tone. She sounded welcoming, if a little shy; but she also gave the invitation as though she too had been standing there warring with herself. There was an air of finality to it, as though Victoria was aware that she was taking what might prove to be an...interesting step.

It took Victor a moment to respond. Victoria was inviting him into her bedroom! He wasn't quite sure how he felt about that. Victor had been in Victoria's room before they were married, but that had been under completely different circumstances--it hadn't even occurred to him where he was.

Afraid that nerves would cause him to actually giggle or do something equally unman-like if he tried to speak, Victor simply nodded. Victoria stood aside a bit, and Victor took a couple of steps forward before he had time to second-guess. And there he was. In his wife's bedroom. Just like that.

It's a bit cozier than mine, he thought, taking a look around. There was a lot of crocheted lace--on the bedspread's ruffles, along the edge of the curtains. The lamplight helped as well. Victor wondered why there wasn't a fire lit, before he recalled that he and Victoria had told the servants not to worry about lighting the upstairs fires, as they didn't know when they'd be retiring. As Victor surveyed the room rather inquisitively, Victoria softly closed the door behind him.

The sound of the door swinging home made Victor jump slightly. He turned to see Victoria standing at his elbow.

"Here, let me take that for you," Victoria said, indicating the candle. Victor thanked her as she took the almost-dead candle from him and blew out the weak flame. Victoria's hand had brushed his when she took the candleholder, and when she blew it out her breath had landed on his wrist. Victor gazed at Victoria's back as she placed the extinguished candle on her bedside table and shivered a little. Why was he suddenly so aware of accidental touches?

As Victoria turned back to him, he noticed that she looked a little different. When she'd opened the door, Victor had vaguely registered that she was in her nightclothes, but he hadn't taken a good look. It wasn't exactly polite, after all. But now he wondered. What was different? Trying not to be too obvious about it, he shyly looked Victoria up and down as she stood before him.

The nightgown went down to the floor, hiding her feet. The sleeves reached her wrists, and the neckline...Oh, that was it. Victor, for the first time, could see Victoria's neck. She has a very pretty neck, Victor thought before he could stop himself. He felt like a bit of a rake, standing there staring at his wife's neck, but he couldn't help it. He could even see a bit of her collarbone. As he stared, Victor felt a deep flush start to creep up his own neck. He looked at Victoria's face to find her looking at him curiously. He quickly cleared his throat, and put his arms behind his back. It's now or never, he thought, and, steeling himself with a deep breath, began, "Victoria..."

"Oh, how rude of me," she interrupted, taking a step forward. "I haven't asked you to sit down." Victoria gestured at the pair of wingback chairs near the windows. "Would you like to have a seat? It would be more comfortable, I think, then standing here in the middle of the room." Before Victor could respond, she had passed him and was already halfway toward the chair she had apparently abandoned earlier. For no logical reason that he could discern, Victor found himself smelling the air after she had passed. Is that lavender? It's rather nice, he thought. No, no, he admonished himself, stop that. Even if she is your wife, it's hardly proper. Clearing his throat again, Victor followed Victoria to the chairs, taking the seat opposite her.

He fidgeted a little, trying to decide how he should sit. Finally, while Victoria watched him with a small smile, Victor settled for leaning toward her with his elbows on his knees. Still, he couldn't quite figure out what to do with his hands. They seemed like separate creatures as they wrung themselves together. Just as he was working up the nerve to address Victoria again, she spoke.

"Are you quite all right, Victor?" she asked, sounding concerned. Perhaps a little perplexed as well. Victor looked at her and hastily tried to fix a calm expression on his face.

"Oh, yes, Victoria, I'm all right," he answered in a voice that only broke a little. "Erm...Why do you ask?" Victor rested his chin on his hand and smiled at her, before thinking that he must look quite foolish. He dropped his hand and looked at his shoes instead.

"Only that...Well, you seem..." Victor looked up again as he tried to guess what she was about to say. Foolish? Idiotic? Absolutely abhorrent, and please get into your own bedroom immediately? "A little nervous," Victoria finished. Victor let out a little sigh of relief. He looked into her eyes, and felt something that could only be described as a curious kind of warmth. I really am in love with her, he thought yet again. Victor didn't believe he'd ever tire of thinking that. He decided to just have out with it. Perhaps it would ease his fears a little. Or at least do something to lift the distinct air of awkwardness that seemed to be pervading the room. And maybe it was better for Victoria to have some forewarning as well. Yes. It was the right thing to do. Now if only he could get his mouth to cooperate...

"Victoria," he began again, wondering how to put it, "I don't suppose you know what, er, to expect. Tonight, I mean. Um..." Victor was beginning to flounder. Was this such a good idea? He looked down at the weaving of the chair's upholstery, as though he would find an answer there. But the upholstery was predictably silent. Victor was on his own. He began to pick nervously at the armrest as he continued, "Well, I was considering it, and I thought it only...fair to, um, talk to you before...er..." Oh, this wasn't going well at all. Victor rubbed his forehead, trying to think what to say.

"Before what, Victor?" Victoria sounded truly curious. Her head was tilted to one side as she looked at him fidgeting about. When Victor didn't answer right away, she sat back in her chair a little. "I suppose it has something to do with what goes on between married couples, is that right?"

"Why yes, actually, that's exactly..." Wait, what? Victor looked at her, completely confused. Did she know? If she did, she didn't look very worried. Have I been giving myself a near case of apoplexy for nothing? he wondered. His unspoken question was answered soon enough.

"No, Victor, you're quite right--I'm not sure at all what to expect," Victoria said, looking at her hands folded in her lap. She looked toward the shuttered windows. "I confess, I was actually in quite a state before you knocked on the door." Victoria smiled a little, still looking at the windows. "I am...quite nervous." She finished quietly.

Victoria's sudden confession made Victor feel a bit better. Not a lot, but a bit. Enough that he could say, "Oh, Victoria...I'm rather" (terrified)"nervous as well."

They smiled at one another briefly before both looking away. There was a silence, but not quite as awkward this time. It was almost companionable, as though sharing their nervousness had lifted some kind of curtain. Still, the evening was hardly over yet. Swallowing hard, Victor decided again to just have out with it.

"Victoria," he said quietly, looking at his knees as he spoke, "the very last thing I want to do is...frighten you." He paused.

"You do not frighten me at all, Victor," Victoria said kindly. But she also sounded as though she were sitting on pins, waiting for him to say whatever it was he wanted to say.

"I'm...glad to hear that," Victor said. There was another pause, and then, "Oh, Victoria, I do love you."

"And I you, Victor."

"And I hope that, well, we can do...um, what is to be done without any...ill feelings," he finished lamely. Victor realized that he wasn't making all that much sense, but Victoria seemed to understand. Or else she was extremely good at pretending to understand. She was also extremely adept, Victor noticed, at taking over when he needed her to. Such as now.

"I will be honest," Victoria said, leaning forward a bit, "I really don't have the slightest idea what it is you're trying to tell me." She smiled again, and Victor managed to smile back at her. "But," she continued, "I trust that you know what is supposed to go on." She tilted her head as she looked at him. "Otherwise, I don't think you'd be quite so anxious."

Victor let out a small, slightly embarrassed laugh. He decided to go for honesty--it seemed to be working well so far. "I do have a...vague idea," he admitted. Victor looked Victoria in the eye at last. "My fear has been that once we've...er..." Victoria nodded slightly, sparing him from trying to find a suitable euphemism. So he said, "I do not want to cause you any discomfort or anxiety, Victoria. I love you."

If Victoria minded that he hadn't really explained anything to her, she didn't show it. She simply leaned forward and placed her hand on his.

"I love you as well, Victor, and I trust you completely," she said seriously. "I don't know what it is we're going to do, but I promise that I won't hate you come morning."

If you did know, you might not say that, Victor thought, then shooed the idea from his mind. He wrapped his fingers around her hand, and they sat together quietly for a moment.

"Well then," Victor said, breaking the silence. He was a bit shocked at how business-like he sounded. Probably the wrong tone to use in this situation, but at least he had the comfort of knowing that Victoria wouldn't run screaming from the room. Hopefully.

"Shall we...I mean, go to...bed, then?" Victoria asked slowly. There's that word again, Victor thought. The warmth of the past few minutes suddenly fled from him, replaced by the sheer terror of earlier in the evening. He was really going to have to get over his sudden aversion to the word "bed." Maybe after forty years or so of marriage, he supposed.

Strangling the nervous squeak that was crawling up his throat, he tried to sound in control as he answered, "Yes, Victoria, perhaps we should." They seemed to have come to the unspoken decision that they would stay in Victoria's room. As if to prove it, both of them rose and walked over to Victoria's bed. Victoria had already turned the covers down on the left side of the bed, so she made her way over there. Standing next to the lamp on the bedside table, she hesitated. Victor stayed where he was, glad that he didn't have to force himself to take too many steps. He wasn't absolutely sure that his legs would carry him all that far. Finally, Victoria said,

"Victor, please don't think me forward..."

"Oh no, no, never!"

Victoria smiled as she shyly continued, "I noticed...I mean, you're...You're still dressed."

Was he? Victor looked down at himself. Oh yes, Victoria was right. He was still dressed. It occurred to him that it was hardly fair for Victoria to have to be in a nightgown while he was allowed to be dressed. Victor stopped and thought. For some reason that didn't make a whole lot of sense...

But never mind. "Er, yes, you're right, Victoria. Um...Shall I...er..." Victor's words seemed to be getting stuck halfway between his brain and his mouth. He stood there next to the bed, yanking nervously on his cravat and trying to finish his sentence. "Shall I un-d-dr...mmph...Un-un..."

"Oh no! No, you don't have to," Victoria said quickly. Perhaps a little too quickly, because she added, "I just mean...Are you, um, supposed to? I mean generally, when people go to bed, they...get undressed." Victoria carefully avoided his eyes.

Stop acting like a gibbering dolt! Victor said to himself. What's Victoria going to think?

"Perhaps," he began, "Perhaps I could go put my nightclothes on..." He trailed off. Victor had suddenly realized that if he left now, he'd probably never come back. And there was no way, none at all, that he was going to change into his nightclothes in front of Victoria. He'd probably frighten her to death. I'm probably going to frighten her to death anyway, Victor thought almost sadly.

"Actually," he finally said, "I suppose I could just take my shoes off."

Victoria looked terribly relieved, or so it seemed to Victor. "Yes, all right, Victor," she said.

"Because really, shoes don't belong in bed," Victor said, sitting down on the edge of the bed and leaning over to unbutton his boots. As soon as the words were out of his mouth, Victor wished he were alone so that he could smack himself in the forehead again. What an idiotic thing to say!

"No, shoes don't belong in bed," Victoria agreed. She seemed thankful to have something to talk about, so Victor decided to continue. If it would help to put Victoria at ease, Victor didn't care how moronic he sounded.

"They would bring in dirt, I suppose."

"Yes, they would."

"And that wouldn't be very clean."

"No, it wouldn't, Victor."

They smiled at one another, and then Victor went back to trying to get his shoes off. His fingers didn't seem to be working all that well. Behind him, he heard Victoria draw a breath. He stopped. This is when she changes her mind and orders me out of her room, I just know it! Victor didn't look at her; he stared down at his shoes, cringing in anticipation.

Victoria gave a little cough. Does she want me to turn around? Victor thought. He yanked his right boot off, waiting for Victoria to say something or do something.

"Um, Victor?" Victoria asked quietly, as though afraid she was disturbing the careful operation of his shoe-removal.

"Yes, Victoria?" Victor answered quickly. He finally turned to look at her. She was standing beside the table on the far side of the bed, the side that she had turned the covers down on earlier. Her hands were clasped, and a slow blush was starting to crawl up her neck.

"What..." she stopped, took a breath, and started again. "What am I supposed to do?"

Victor let out a little "erp" sort of noise. His father hadn't prepared him for that. What was Victoria supposed to do? Victor answered with what he hoped was a sensible response.

"Well, er, Victoria," he said, fumbling with his other shoe (he was rather desperate to have something to do with his attention rather than look at his wife), "I suppose you could get into...into..." Victor had trouble with the next word. "Into b-b-be..."

Luckily Victoria understood. Victor felt the mattress move as Victoria climbed onto the bed. Finally he extracted his foot from his shoe, and placed his boots carefully side by side on the floor. He turned around slowly.

Victoria was under the covers on the other side of the bed, reclining on the pillows. She had the coverlet pulled up almost to her shoulders. Her arms were free, however, and she had them almost crossed over her chest, clutching at the blanket.

Victor stared. Victoria stared back. Victor swallowed over and over again, trying to compose himself. What now, what now? was all that he could think. Of course he knew (vaguely) "what now," but he hadn't a clue as to how to begin.

"Victor," Victoria said, her voice hardly above a whisper. She cleared her throat softly and held the coverlet in a death-grip. She looks awfully pale, Victor thought with sympathy. How in the world was he going to do this? Before he could respond Victoria continued, visibly trying to keep her voice level. "What now?"

Victor felt as though he'd been struck dumb. A few seconds went by before he dimly realized that his mouth was hanging open. He regained control of his jaw, and, with a feeling of panic rising in his chest, said nothing. What could he possibly say? Victoria looked at him with nervous expectation.

"Maybe...Maybe we should put out the lamp," Victor said slowly. If he didn't speak slowly and quietly, he was afraid he might scream from anxiety. Turning out the lamp seemed to be a good idea--if he couldn't see Victoria's look of horror (he was sure she'd be absolutely horrified in a little while), maybe it would be easier.

Victoria seemed to agree. Probably for the same reasons, Victor supposed. Being in the dark would be easier. He tried to keep his panicked breathing under control as he waited, still sitting on the edge of the bed and half-turned in Victoria's direction. She seemed a bit puzzled as to what he was waiting for. After a few seconds Victoria said, "Oh!" as she realized. The oil lamp was next to her side of the bed. She leaned over with a slightly trembling hand and turned the wick down, plunging the two of them into darkness.