Chapter 3: Uncomfortable Conversations

They were staying with her cousin until the next day to rest for the journey back. However, this made it even more strange for Ruth. To consummate a marriage in her cousin's home bothered her. Ruth and Jean stood on their side of the bed and faced each other. She looked up at the ceiling beams and he pulled back the blanket. He tried to keep his focus. Her nightgown was distracting him. Apparently her cousin's wife thought it would be fitting to make her one but the cotton was too thin. She finally sat on the edge of the bed and and listened to the ropes creak as he followed. It seemed as if an eternity passed before she laid down and pulled the blanket over herself. They laid in the bed and stared upwards. Everything had finally calmed down below their room as people left and the Scott family settled in. Silence was all they could hear until the faint sound of Dan's snoring drifted through the walls. The candles were burning low and all the newlyweds could do was twiddle their thumbs. Ruth caught Jean awkwardly glancing at her for a few short seconds.

Ruth was incredibly nervous. Jean looked over at her hands. They were wringing the blanket. He knew that it would be impossible to do anything at that moment. He wasn't the type of man to force himself on a woman and he knew that, though she was only willing because they were married, she was secretly wishing it didn't have to happen. He tried to advance towards her to test the waters and placed his hand on her thigh. Her initial reaction was to stiffen up and she clenched the blankets. He let out a sigh of frustration and took his hand off of her. He laid down again and after a moment he rolled over, blowing out his candle before going to sleep. Ruth felt an odd relief but questions began to ripple through her mind. Was he incapable? Perhaps her aunt had lied to her about that too. Perhaps he was impotent and she was doomed to a life of a celibate marriage. Her mind rushed with endless possibilities and she didn't get any sleep that night. She was confused but didn't know her body language had discouraged him.

…

The next morning her aunt took her by the hands and looked her in the eyes, shaking her head. Ruth awkwardly looked away from her. She wished this wasn't the conversation she had to have.

"Sarah informed me there was no blood on the sheets this morning," her aunt chided her. Ruth uncomfortably groaned and tried to escape the clutch of her aunt, which had tightened.

"You need to consummate the marriage, dear," she was gripping Ruth's hands so tight, she swore she saw her skin turning whiter than it already was, "It isn't completely sealed until you are with child."

"It wasn't me," Ruth finally squeaked, "he didn't do anything."

Her aunt let go of her niece's hands and Ruth sighed in relief, rubbing them.

"Well, make him. Be quick about it," her aunt said as she smacked the tip of her cain on the wood slats of the porch, "it is your good Christian duty as a wife." They grew silent when Jean opened the door and came out onto the porch. He saw Ruth rubbing her hands and her aunt gave him a shriveling glare. He stood perfectly still, questioning why he was frightened of a little old woman.

"Are you alright?" he asked Ruth,trying to take her hands in his to look at them when her aunt had disappeared. Ruth didn't look at him and jerked her hands away from his, quickly walking away. He immediately knew it was about what had happened the night before. He had already read it in Sarah's body language when he watched her change the sheets in the morning. She had lifted the blanket and dropped it when she saw no evidence. She had looked at him in confusion and all he had been doing at that moment was shining his boots as he sat in a chair in the corner. It had had thrown him into a worried state.

…..

The Martin wagons were packed up with Ruth's belongings for their departure. It would be a two day's journey to the Martin farm. Both of Ben's wagons were also packed up with the children. They trailed behind Jean's small two person carriage and made their way home. After the first day, only five words had been traded between the newlyweds. The night they stopped to rest at an Inn, things began to pick up for them.

They sat at a small table in the corner of the Inn and watched as a group of men sang a tune about war and how the English had been crushed. Amongst the commotion Charlotte found her way to the chair next to the young woman. Ruth knew her aunt had told her what was happening. Ruth clapped her hands to the song and tried to ignore how Charlotte was struggling to find the words she wanted to say.

"Would you prefer a better place to have this conversation Mrs. Martin?" Ruth whispered over to her. She continued clapping. Ruth saw that Ben had planted himself next to Jean.

Honestly, do they anything better to worry about? Ruth wondered. However, she understood why they were concerned. An unconsummated marriage, at least in the eyes of everyone around her, was not truly a marriage. She felt Charlotte's delicate hand reach over and tap her arm. She motioned for Ruth to follow her. She winked at Ben, who tried to act like he didn't know what was happening.

Charlotte had pulled ruth upstairs into the room she was staying in with her family and sat Ruth down at a chair.

"I know this subject may be a bit-" Charlotte began.

"Uncomfortable," Ruth finished her sentence.

"I was going to say indelicate, but-" Charlotte stalled, "Are you alright? Do you know how to-"

Ruth pursed her lips together and nodded. She wasn't an idiot. She didn't know why she being treated as such.

"I was terrified on my wedding night with my first husband," Charlotte said bluntly.

"Why does everyone assume I am terrified?" Ruth defended herself, "I am not a delicate flower. I worked a farm for six years. During the war, I saw a men's legs taken off their bodies. I had to help the doctors hold them down. I've seen war, for goodness sake! and no one acknowledges that I am not this weak defenseless little-"

Charlotte shrunk back. That was the temper Ruth's aunt had warned her of, "no, I never questioned that."

Ruth calmed herself down and took deep breaths.

"I'm just inquiring as to what the problem may be," Charlotte finally spoke up after Ruth had gotten ahold of herself.

"I just wish that everyone would stop blaming the wife as if its her problem and not her husband's," Ruth muttered.

"I am not blaming you, dear," Charlotte offered her her hand to comfort her. Ruth obligingly took it.

"I am just uncomfortable with the situation," Ruth said as she released her hand from Charlotte's and left the room. She made her way to the room she and Jean were staying in and planted herself on the bed to cool her temper, waiting for her husband.

…

Jean itched the bridge of his nose and hung his head down when Ben finally said what he was thinking. The way his friend shook his head told him it was a useless conversation.

"I'm sorry I brought it up," Ben laughed, "my wife insisted."

Jean shook his head, "non, Ruth is just- she's terrified of me and I don't want to force her-"

"Well, I don't know what these women are so concerned with," Ben laughed, "listen to me, if Ruth is not receptive then take your time together. Perhaps your marriage is in need of courtship."

Jean looked over to see Charlotte coming down the stairs. She frustratingly plopped down in a chair next to Ben.

"Watch out for her temper," Charlotte muttered.

Jean looked over at her, "consider me warned."

He stood up, placed a couple coins on the table to pay for his drink and made his way upstairs. He was tired and the loud noise was frustrating him. When he opened the door of the room, he saw Ruth sitting up on the bed in her nightgown. Her eyes were wider than a doe's. She looked as if she had been through hell. Her red hair was undone. She hadn't braided it yet. Jean tried not to chuckle. Her massive amount of red hair was puffed about and made her look like a lion sitting in wait. It was incredibly curly and she found it difficult to tame.

She was sitting awkwardly as if she was trying to get his attention. He shook his head and took his boots off.

She's trying too hard, he thought to himself. She let out a massively frustrated sigh and smacked the bed before plopping her head down on the pillow. She sat up and watched him as he sat down and placed one of his boots over his leg, prepping his shining kit which had been laid out earlier that night. She noted how shiny they had been earlier that day. Not a spot was on them. They were incredibly immaculate but traveling had made them dusty.

"I've never seen a man shine his boots the way you do," she suddenly broke the ice between them.

Jean responded, "When you are called to court, you are expected to be perfect."

"To court?" Ruth was stunned, "To the Royal court?"

"Yes," he said, nodding his head. He picked up a brush and took it to his boot, taking off the dirt and mud of the day.

Ruth didn't know what else to say. She picked up the thick cotton dressing robe which she had also received from her cousin's wife and put it on, sitting on the edge of the bed. All that could be heard in the room was the brush as it cleaned Jean's boot.

"I know this isn't ideal," he finally broke the silence. Ruth was shocked. She suddenly looked him in the eyes for the longest she ever had.

"I agreed to it," she assured him, "I wasn't forced. The question is why did you do it?"

"I'm not a young man," he said bluntly motioning to the silver stubble growing out of his chin, "Most of the women my age are married."

"And they can't bear sons," she whispered. He barely caught what she said and looked over at her. Ruth smiled subtly. She laid down and rested her head on the pillow, looking up at the ceiling. She laid there for a few moments and felt herself slipping into the salvation of sleep, rescuing her from forced conversation.

…

Jean built a fine brick home a little over a mile away from the Martins. It took two years to finish. It had two levels, a large dining room, four bedrooms, and a fireplace in every room. There were nine windows perfectly lined up at the front of the home. The door was a bright red color and the porch was painted white. It wrapped around the home and provided good shade on sunny days.

When Ruth saw the house, her heart stopped. It was much more than she had expected and she knew why her great aunt had been so bent upon the union. The wagons stopped and she heard the younger Martin children shouting as they hopped out and ran about, playing. Jean helped Ruth out and she opened the gate of the white picketed fence. She tried to offer to help with the trunks but Charlotte took her arm in hers and walked with her to the front door.

Ruth stood on the front porch of her new home, looking in. She rested her hand on the frame of the door and stepped over the threshold. It was time for her to run her own home. It felt strange. She looked about to see books piled on tables, furniture was still covered in sheets, and it looked quite desolate. The sun shining into the dark entry hall showed the dust floating about. She looked up the grand staircase but before she could head upstairs, she was distracted by a loud crash. She ran into the parlor to see Nathan and Samuel Martin looking down at the box they dropped. It was Ruth's box full of porcelain tea cups which she had inherited from her mother. Two were broken on the floor. The young men's faces were paler than chalk as they looked at her. Jean stooped down and picked up the box carefully. Ruth looked as if she was ready to cry. He thought he could console her by saying he could replace the pieces, but he caught himself, realizing how irreplaceable those cups were. There had been ten but now there were only eight. He carefully placed the box on a nearby table.

Nathan and Samuel were completely silent and watched as Ruth crouched down to pick up the pieces. She sighed and placed them beside the wood box the boys had dropped. She decided to move on and not to worry about it. It wasn't the only thing she had inherited from her mother. She still had eight cups, she reminded herself. That was plenty.

She continued to walk about the house and inspect it. She noticed the furniture hardly had a place in the home. It was very ornate, she thought. It wasn't like the style she knew. The clean lines of the furniture she had grown up with were not present. There were curves and carvings on the armoires and chairs. The furniture in the parlor was upholstered in a fine silk fabric. She had no idea where it had come from and it was alien to her. It was so fine of quality, she was afraid to touch it.

Jean could see his bride looking about the house with a look of confusion. She was examining the gilding on an old armoir Jean had sent for from his old manor. He had sold most of his belongings in France but had held onto a few pieces. He imagined that she was in shock to see it.

Charlotte flicked a sheet off a settee in the drawing room and dust came flying about. She coughed and shook her head at Jean. He didn't know how to respond.

"Thankfully for you, this will stop," Charlotte said as she fluffed the cushion of the settee. Jean smiled and left the room to help with setting things up and Ruth found her way into the room after he left. Charlotte motioned for her sit down and rest. Margaret Martin, Ben's twenty year old daughter, was sitting in a chair nearby. It was a rocking chair her father had made as a gift for Jean when his home was finally finished. She was rocking gleefully back and forth. Ruth joined them. She was not used to resting. She hadn't had the luxury to do so for years.

"So, is it to your liking?" Margaret asked. Ruth smiled but she didn't know what to say.

"It's bigger than I expected," Ruth stated bluntly. Charlotte chuckled as she watched Ruth's eyes jut about the room as she took it in.