Part 3: Like Wax Before Fire

He found his wife waiting for him, standing in the centre of the dimly lit room, between the imposing four poster bed and the dressing table. The light from the fire cast her complexion with a healthful peachiness, complimented by the soft ivory of her nightgown and silk robe. Though she did not come to him, she gifted him a smile that reminded him, in every fibre of his being, of his great fortune to have the woman that he loved, this woman that he loved, as his own.

But the smile he returned was quickly replaced with a look of severity that Margaret had, fortunately, come to know belied a great level of concentration, rather than disapprobation. She straightened her spine in response, standing a little taller and crossing her pale, round hands over her front in anticipation. John mirrored her posture, setting his feet together and folding his hands behind his back, lest they should be tempted to wander prematurely.

"Are you well?" he asked gallantly.

"Yes, I thank you. I am quite well. And yourself?"

"I am, yes, very well, very well indeed… And yourself?"

Margaret smiled, quizzically. She had not seen him so decomposed in a long time.

John cast about for a moment, his eyes rolling at his own ineloquence, before taking hold of himself once more.

"Margaret," he began, "have you, that is, are you acquai... have you any..."

He shook his head, exhaling an expletive just low enough that to Margaret, it sounded like a rumble of complaint.

"John, are you unwell? I can call for a serva…"

"Do you understand what we are about to do, Miss Hale?"

"Miss Hale?" said she, struck by his sudden, and quite incorrect formality.

"Forgive me," he said, scrubbing his hand across his face, "I am overcome. I simply do not wish to cause any offense..."

"I cannot imagine any more offense taking place between us now, John Thornton, not now that we are man and wife!"

"Aye," said he, thoughtful, "and yet as I stand here before you, I the man, and you the wife, I have seldom been as aware of the difference between the us as I am now. You a fine, London lady and I, nowt but a great, rough fellow," he added, apologetically.

"I see..."

She turned back on herself, turning over the implications of his words in her mind. Suddenly aware he was slouching, he retook his military-like stance, and waited for her to face him once again.

"Margaret, I would like to be sure that you understand what is to take place between us. There are instincts in me, male instincts, that I do not believe we men share with the opposite sex. I would not want for you to be caught unawares."

She smiled at his kindness.

"Well?"

"I believe I am aware of what is to take place," she began, after a moment gathering herself, "just not of the, er, particulars. I am aware that we are to join in some way, and that children can be hoped to come from such a union. But I confess," here she lifted a hand to brush away a lock of hair that was not there, "I am unsure as to how we are to go about it."

John nodded, forcing himself to look past her loveliness to a spot on the wall in order to think. Her talk of joining, and the feminine blush that accompanied it had put him back into a state of mounting arousal, and for a moment the pragmatist in him considered simply displaying to her the part of his body that was to enter her, and indicating with his hands where it was to do so. But he quickly disposed of that notion.

"When you were in Helstone," he began again, "there were animals, yes? In the wild, and also livestock?"

"Yes... we kept none ourselves except a cat, but our home was surrounded by farmland."

"Quite. So you must have seen, that is, in the spring? You might have come across two sheep, or cows perhaps? A male and a female?"

"I... I suppose I must have..." she replied, her response a question in itself.

"It is not dissimilar to that, the mechanics of the union between man and wife. We are, after all, male and female, joined together as one."

"What, like beasts in the field?! On all fours?!" said Margaret with a giggle that shut her eyes long enough for her to miss the feral look that took possession of his features at the thought.

With a shake of his head he cast about for a different idea. One that would leave her truly informed.

"Margaret," said he, folding his hands behind his back, "forgive my impertinence, but did your mother never tell you of such things?"

At the mention of her mother, Margaret sighed, and sat down gently on the plush stool of her dressing table.

"No. Well at least in no great detail. She said that the duties of the marriage bed would lead to children, which would atone for their discomfort. Aunt Shaw said much the same, and your mother..." she cast a glance in his direction, "was of the same mind, though she did say that her son, that you, would be gentle. That you would never hurt me."

"Never, my love," said he, from his heart.

"Edith, however, said something, or rather implied that she found her marital duties quite, that is, that they could be, not all together so... unpleasant?"

John raised his eyebrows. Margaret misunderstood.

"Please John, do not let this colour your opinion of her! I suppose she is very in love with the captain, and to service a husband's needs must bring every loving wife some degree of satisfaction."

"No, my dear, such information would not make me think ill of your cousin," said he rakishly, "quite the reverse. I am glad for what she has told you. For I too wish to please you, but it would prove a difficult task, should you be indisposed to receive pleasure."

"Perhaps you might ask me questions," he suggested, after leaving her to consider his words a few moments, "if you have any. Anything at all. I will not have any shame, any discomfort between us."

"I thank you. Do you understand the particulars of how we are to join tonight?"

Surprised at her alacrity, John tore his eyes from her earnest expression, and exhaled deeply, his eyes tightly shut.

"Aye, that I do."

"And how do you... or rather... John, have you..."

"I have never joined with a woman, no." He replied, relieving her of the discomfort of having to ask such an awkward question, "I have been in intimate circumstances with women, I have seen women, but I have not loved with a woman as we are to love this night."

He frowned a moment at her shocked expression, which quickly dissolved into one of deep thought, as she considered that the rules for men and women on this matter must be quite different, particularly in the north.

"And could you, I suppose, I wonder John if you might..."

"Yes, love? Anything."

"Could you explain to me what it is that is to happen? Mechanically, I mean, between us..."

"Mechanically?" he repeated, an amused look lifting his features as he ran his hands through his hair, "like the day I explained the workings of my machines in the mill?"

"Exactly like that. Remember, when you demonstrated the inner mechanisms of a loom, or the extraction wheel to me, at the beginning of our engagement? You certainly were a most capable teacher." she added encouragingly.

He let his eyes wander down the silk clad length of her body, right down to her soft, silk slippers, then up again to her mouth. He could see the outline of her breasts, and her hips, where her dressing gown gathered, then flared out gracefully from where it was cinched about her delicate waist. Her hair was undone, tumbling in loose waves, almost reaching the small of her back, and John longed to run his fingers through that dark, silken cascade.

Suddenly, John was disinclined to speak any longer. He had thought of another, better way.

Stepping towards his bride, he kept one hand behind his back as he took her hand gently in his and held it, rubbing his thumb across her fingers. The motion held her attention long enough for him to make his (scandalous) proposition:

"Any skill I demonstrated as a teacher was not in the explaining, but in the showing. Margaret, my love" he said, his voice dropping to a low thrum, "would you permit me to show you?"