Love Stories

9

I survived a swordfight armed only with a fork, Victor reminded himself. I've been to the land of the dead. I nearly married a dead woman. I almost died. I can handle owning a house.

Victor closed his house key in his fist. He stood on the circular gravel drive, staring up at his newly completed home. Victoria stood beside him, taking it all in.

"It's certainly different from the other houses in town," he said.

"And it's lovely," she replied, taking his arm.

Their house sat on a large piece of land just opposite the church. The village walls were about a mile or so distant. There was room for a garden off to one side, and the carriage house sat beyond. All this space just to themselves.

They'd chosen to paint the house dark green, with cream trim. A few dark red accents here and there. The turret was modest, he had to admit. It was a modest sort of house all around. It looked much nicer in person than it had in the catalog. The turret wasn't so bad at all, and the porch was welcoming. Now that it was here, complete, it looked like theirs.

Together they walked up the porch steps and stopped at the large front door. Victor opened it and let Victoria go inside first. He heard her breath catch as he walked in behind her, closing the door as he did so.

"Oh," she breathed, looking around, eyes enormous. "It's perfect."

"And this is just the entry," he said with a grin.

Victor had seen the house more recently than Victoria had. He and his father had done one last walk-through after the furniture had been moved in and the wallpapering completed. This was all new to her, though, because she'd wanted to be surprised. The delighted look on her face made him happy. Here was the home he'd wanted to give her, and her happiness in it pleased him.

For his own part, he was still a little nervous about the new responsibility. But Victoria's enthusiasm was catching. And the colors and furnishings she'd chosen were quite nice. He slipped his house key into his pocket, and resolved to save his worries for later and enjoy exploring his new home with Victoria.

The front hall had been completed in honey-colored wood. To either side were sets of pocket doors leading to the parlor and the dining room. Straight ahead was the foot of the wide staircase, and beyond that the hall to the study.

A thought suddenly struck him as he watched Victoria taking it all in. He all but put a palm to his forehead.

"I was meant to carry you inside, wasn't I?" he asked. She turned from the parlor doorway and smiled.

"It isn't mandatory," she told him, and stepped into the parlor, saying, "The wallpaper looks wonderful. I'm pleased I decided on the violets. Oh! And the sofa! It fits perfectly…"

Such the tour went. The dining room, done up in cream and blue. The kitchen and pantry, much smaller than the ones they'd grown up with. Down the hall to the study, with its simple green wallpaper. Victor's desk and books had already been moved in, and already had a comfortably shabby sort of look to it that suited Victor fine.

Upstairs the rooms were a bit starker. Only Victoria and Victor's bedrooms actually had beds in them. They both admired the bathroom, with the deep claw-footed tub Victoria had chosen. She glanced into the spare rooms, and then paused an extra moment at the room they planned to be the nursery. When she smiled up at him, her eyes were shining. Victor couldn't help but smile hugely back.

As they strolled and admired and daydreamed, it occurred to Victor how empty the house would feel until they filled it with children. Someday. In the future. When he felt more prepared. He patted at his pocket again.

"Oh," said Victoria, peering into the room which was to be Victor's. "This is smaller than I expected."

The room had looked much bigger on the plan. In reality, it was more of an antechamber to Victoria's room. The door separating the two spaces was thin and had no lock. Not that he'd ever dream of locking it. Just enough room for a narrow bed, a dresser, and a wash-stand. He didn't mind the size. He didn't plan on spending much time in here.

The master bedroom was light and airy, with the same honey-colored wood as the rest of the house. Victoria had chosen a dusty rose for the walls, echoed in the curtains and the quilt on the four-poster bed. There was a wardrobe and a vanity table, all purchased as a set. They stood in the doorway, at the end of their tour.

"This is lovely," said Victoria. "It's just as I wanted."

"It is a nice house," said Victor. "I'm glad you're pleased."

She squeezed his hand. "Very pleased," she assured him. "We'll be very happy here, I'm sure."

Victoria made to step into the bedroom, but Victor, struck with an idea, stopped her with an arm around her waist.

"I'll carry you over this threshold instead," he said, scooping her up in his arms before she had a chance to demur. And with only a little bit of a stumble, he delivered his wife into her room.

10

"I often wish that we'd met sooner," Victoria remarked.

Victor smiled. "That would have been nice," he replied.

They were in each others arms in bed, snuggled under the covers. They'd been a few months in their new house. Long enough that the house was beginning to feel like home. As Victor had assumed, "Victoria's" room was actually theirs. He hadn't slept in "his" room once. The room was dark, the fireplace gone cold. They'd been up for a while.

"It would have been nice to have a friend," she added. "I've never had any."

"Neither did I," he said. He twined a lock of her hair in his fingers. "We might have spoken after church, perhaps."

"I wish we had," Victoria said warmly. She ran her fingertips up and down his arm, and he felt goosebumps rise on his skin. "All those years, in such a small village, and we never spoke once."

"I don't think your mother would have approved," he said.

"She would have made certain we had a chaperone."

Victor smiled in the dark. "You didn't have a chaperone when you met me for the first time," he reminded her. How it had frightened him, being alone with a girl for the very first time in his life. A girl he was set to marry. He'd been counting on having more people around to hide behind. Victor put his hand to his wife's face, ran a thumb over her cheekbone. How young and silly he'd been. He'd done a lot of growing up since that afternoon.

"That was different," she said, now running her fingers along his back. "We were engaged. If we'd courted properly, we'd have been chaperoned."

There was a silence. Victor continued stroking Victoria's hair, enjoying how soft it was. For a moment he was sure she'd drifted off to sleep, but then she spoke.

"What do you think it would have been like?" she asked. "If we'd courted?"

Victor thought about it. A proper courtship. Heavily chaperoned walks and teas. Parties at his mother's house. At Victoria's house. He'd have loved her company, he was sure, but the ritual of it all, the expectation, might have proved overwhelming. He remembered how sick with nerves he'd been over getting married. To have had to present himself, under his own power, with the intention of courting...he somehow didn't think he'd have been able to handle it. To have had to figure out whether Victoria desired his company would have been difficult, impossible, since he naturally would have assumed she wanted nothing to do with him. So a courtship was hard to imagine, as he couldn't even imagine getting one off the ground.

Or maybe...He looked down at her now, nude in his arms in their very own bed, in their very own house, and he couldn't imagine any other outcome to their relationship than this. He remembered how sweet she'd been when they'd first met. How she hadn't cared that he'd acted like a fool. She'd probably have been just the same had he clumsily attempted to woo her. And she would have made her feelings about him clear.

"I think it would have ended up just like this, in the end," he told her. "I think I'd have felt that I should be with you always, no matter what the circumstances."

Victoria reached up and kissed him gently on the cheek. "I feel the same," she said. "Though I would have loved to go walking with you. To write letters. Take tea..."

"We do all of that now," he pointed out. "Every day. Except the letters. And you needn't wait for days until you see me again. I'm always here."

"It's as if we saved the courting for after our marriage," she said, kissing him again. With soft and gentle fingers she touched his face, where she'd kissed. "You make me very happy, Victor. It makes me happy just to be with you. If we'd met sooner, there would have been even more happiness to spread out."

Victor grew warm, touched in the tenderest place in his heart, that place reserved just for Victoria. "You make me happy, too," he said. "And we have the rest of our lives to make up for all the years we didn't know each other."

He hoped there would be many such years, filled with many evenings in bed, just like this one.