Love Stories

4

They always caught him by surprise, those little moments when he fell in love with his wife all over again.

Tonight, Victor was watching her from across their small sitting room. He'd just happened to glance up from the journal he was reading, and something about her caught his eye. Victoria sat in the armchair, a standing embroidery hoop before her.

She was very talented at handiwork. Most quiet evenings she had a project to work on. Already she'd knitted a small throw for the back of the sofa, crocheted a lace runner for their end table, and embroidered small designs on the edges of their pillowcases. It never would have occurred to Victor to make such home improvements. Her creations added to the coziness and personality of their rooms.

He didn't know what she was working on now, but she was toiling away diligently at it. Victor liked to watch her face while she worked. Often she wore a serene expression. When she hit a snag, as sometimes happened, her forehead would crease and her mouth turn down. And when the problem was fixed, she'd smile a little to herself. Watching her hands impressed him as well-she was nimble-fingered and confident, and the lovely things that appeared from under her touch were something like magic.

This project must have been going well, for though her brow was creased in concentration, the edges of her mouth turned up in a pleased sort of way. In and out went the different colored threads, each making a small hissing noise as they traveled through the fabric. She was always so still while she worked, except for her face and her hands.

Then she looked up and caught his eye. And he felt it all over again. That warm hand enveloping his heart. The light from the lamp was making her eyes twinkle. When she smiled at him, a small, private smile, his stomach dropped as if he'd missed a tread going downstairs.

She turned her attention to her work again, and Victor, suddenly warm all over, went back to his reading.

5

It was very early morning, the sky just beginning to lighten. Victoria, snuggled deep in the bedclothes against the chill of the room, opened her eyes. She looked at Victor there beside her, breathing deeply and evenly. Trying not to disturb him, she edged closer, so that she could feel the warmth radiating from him.

Eventually he stirred. "Good morning," he said, voice thick with sleep. He slid an arm around her waist and pulled her closer. He still hadn't quite opened his eyes yet.

"Morning," Victoria replied in a whisper. She studied his face, his eyes closed and his hair mussed.

"Did you sleep well?" she asked.

"I think so."

"No...bad dreams at all?"

Victor cracked an eye open. "No," he replied after a moment. "Not that I remember. Why?"

Should she tell him? Victoria caressed his arm and thought.

Last night, very late, she'd been awakened by Victor talking in his sleep. Just mumbling that she couldn't make out. She'd felt his hand on her hip, so she'd rolled over to face him. The room had been pitch-dark, so that she couldn't make out his expression.

"Victoria. You're still here," he'd said, with what sounded like profound relief.

"Of course," she'd replied, confused.

Then, much to her surprise, he'd embraced her fully. He put one leg over both of hers, wrapped her in his arms, and buried his face in her neck. Almost as if he intended to make love to her. Victoria's arms were pinioned awkwardly beneath his weight. She'd felt his breath on her, his hair brushing against her cheek. His tight hold loosened after a moment, his breathing became more regular, and she realized he'd fallen asleep again.

For a little while she'd just lain there, wondering. Eventually she'd nodded off again as well, and sometime during the night they'd separated, and slept undisturbed until now.

"Oh," she said now, inching closer so that she could put a hand to his chest, "nothing. You mumbled a bit in your sleep, that's all."

"I hope I didn't disturb you."

She recalled the way he'd held her, his tone when he'd discovered she was still beside him. She ran her hand through his hair, looked with fondness on his sleepy face.

"Oh no," she told him. "You didn't."

6

"Why does everything have turrets?" Victor asked, frowning at the catalog in his hands.

"It's the fashion," Victoria replied, eyes on her own booklet.

They sat side by side on the sofa in their little sitting room, each holding a catalog of house plans. Victor's father had pushed the pile of booklets on him after lunch that day. A house was to be their wedding gift, provided they chose from among these plans. So Victor and Victoria were searching for a home they could agree on.

Not very many were to their taste. These were all mansions, ranging from the sort that were just large houses to the sort that the Van Dorts had built, with enormous halls, tall ceilings, and so many rooms Victor didn't even know what they were all for. Most of these bigger ones were fronted with brick or stone and reminded him of banks or asylums. He'd never really given much thought to architecture, and wasn't really sure what he was looking for. He figured he'd know it when he saw it.

He'd found quite a few modest plans he'd been quite fond of, until Victoria had pointed out that he was looking at the section for carriage houses and outbuildings. Unlike him, she seemed to know precisely the kind of house she liked. All the designs that pleased her were of houses on the smaller side, but that somehow still managed to be rambling. They had enormous porches, decorative stained glass windows, elaborate shinglework, and chimneys going every which-way. And the turrets of all shapes and sizes, like little castles.

All a bit too busy for Victor. And still felt a bit too big.

But it surprised him, a little, how very much he wanted to build her a house. To then put her in it, live with her in it, see her enjoy it every day. When he imagined each room, he mentally placed Victoria in it to see how she would fit. Somehow it seemed an almost bird-like instinct—to build a nice, sturdy nest for one's mate, in hopes they'd remain year after year.

"What's funny?" asked Victoria, amused. "You've an enormous grin on your face."

"Oh, nothing," he replied, a trifle embarrassed by his sentimental thoughts. All the same he reached over and squeezed her knee.

"So many bedrooms," he mused, looking at a plan which boasted a second floor that looked like a rabbit warren. "Why do we need so many?"

"How many children would you like to have?" Victoria asked blandly, looking at him sideways. Victor fumbled and dropped his pencil, then had to fish for it in the chasm between the sofa cushion and the armrest.

"I don't...I'm not...a few?" he said. "I hadn't considered it."

Victoria just smiled. "We'll need adjoining rooms, of course," she said, turning a page. "So that would be two bedrooms already."

Victor turned to look at her, surprised. "Adjoining rooms?" he asked. He frowned. Right now they shared a room and a bed. She'd never complained about it. He certainly had no complaints about it.

"Well, yes," she said, sounding surprised herself. "It's what's done. Married people have separate bedrooms."

Well, maybe some did. His own parents did. He imagined Victoria's parents probably did. But the thought of not sharing a room with Victoria seemed so strange. He felt as if he were being kicked out into the cold.

"You don't enjoy sharing a room?" he asked tentatively, trying not to sound too hurt.

"Oh goodness, that isn't at all what I meant!" Victoria apologized, reaching to stroke his arm reassuringly. "Simply that it's the genteel thing to do. You'd at least want your own dressing room, wouldn't you?"

Slightly mollified, Victor toyed with his pencil for a moment. "You're sure I haven't been too...attentive?" he asked, thinking over their nights and mornings the past two months in their shared quarters. She'd never said anything, but then, Victoria was very kind and obliging.

Now it was her turn to blush and fumble. "No, no," she whispered, even though they were alone. "Not at all."

"Not attentive enough?"

"No! That is, it's...we're...it's fine. That's all fine."

"But you'd prefer adjoining rooms?"

"No, I wouldn't," Victoria said. Her cheeks were incredibly rosy, and Victor felt a little guilty for teasing. "I'd...you know I like...Oh, never mind. Please forget I mentioned it."

And she buried her face in her catalog. Victor grinned a little, then reached and put his hand on her leg again. This time he left it there.

"A dressing room might not be a bad idea," he said, by way of smoothing things over. She just nodded and turned a page. Her blush was beginning to fade, and he let the moment pass.

"This one," Victoria said after a while. She leaned over to show him a plan. "What about this one?"

At first glance, Victor only saw more of the features he didn't care for. This porch was a little smaller, but still large. More of the lacy, intricate gingerbread trim. The suggested color scheme for painting the exterior made him a little dizzy. And the turret, of course.

Victoria read his mind. "Those are only suggested details," she told him, pointing them out. "The trim, the shinglework, even the cupola. We can choose something simpler, if we like."

That in mind, Victor took the catalog from her and leaned closer to the lamp. He had a look at the floor plan and saw that it wasn't nearly as rambling as others. Quite modest and symmetrical. A decent entry. A parlor and a dining room of similar size to either side. A kitchen and study toward the back of the house.

"Not too many bedrooms," Victoria said, leaning against him to point at the page. "These three are all adjoining. A room for us, a nursery, a dressing room, and two extras besides."

Victor nodded, thinking. It was a coherent layout. There was a third floor, but it was mostly attic, and two tiny rooms that were marked as servants' chambers. A nice-sized bathroom. It didn't sprawl. It was cozy to look at, but would be big enough to be comfortable.

"It's a very modest turret," she said coaxingly. "Only two stories."

"It is a nice house," Victor admitted. Victoria smiled happily. "We'll set this one aside while we keep looking."

Victoria looked a little disappointed at that, but Victor wasn't ready to commit yet. Besides, the sooner they chose, the sooner they'd have to have a house built, and that meant owning and running a house, which he did not feel prepared for.

But then again, it would be awfully nice to give his wife a house to live in. To have a place that was really theirs. If only he could magic one into existence, complete with furnishings and a staff.

"I think that's enough for one evening," said Victor, and Victoria agreed. Though he noticed she looked rather longingly at the house plan he'd earmarked and set aside.

Somehow, in that moment, Victor knew the design she'd picked would be their home. He could take as much time as he wanted, could shop around as much as he pleased, but that look on his wife's face right then said it all. He put his arm around her shoulders and pulled her close.

"Shall we go to bed?" he asked. Then, teasingly, "Unless you'd prefer that I sleep out here."

"Oh, stop," she replied, standing up and smoothing her skirts. She looked down at him, a very small smile on her lips. "Come to bed with me."

He did not need to be told twice.