A Country Marriage

by Sandra Jane Goddard

  Despite what had happened between them in the days before her wedding, he realised then that he had never seen her entirely naked, but from what he could see now she was even more shapely than the improbably curvaceous pictures he frequently summoned from the fragments in his memory. But then, of course, he was comparing her now with the slim, girlish shape of his wife and by nobody’s definition was Annie’s figure either slim or girlish. As he lay there, mesmerised into immobility by the sight of her generous breasts, he suddenly understood why she aroused him in the way that Mary didn’t; of course it was her body but just as importantly, he realised then, it was her confidence.

  When she dropped to her knees beside him and looked into his eyes, he was unable to look away. Conscious that his heart seemed to be trying to break out of his chest through his throat he held her gaze. And when she leant over him, he felt how the feathery tendrils of her hair that came tumbling forward caressed his cheek and then how, without moving her eyes from his, her lips were on his mouth, brushing with the merest of touches against his own. Something akin to a lightning strike exploded the length of his body, seeming to tense every single one of his muscles, and when in his shock he made no move to push her away, her next kiss was less tentative. All he could think in that moment was that her mouth tasted of Mary’s strawberries and that the longer she kissed him, the more he felt as though his mind was separating itself from his body to watch from one side in dismay. Yes, it was plain even through his turmoil that his head wanted no part in where this was leading and expected him to make her stop. But he also knew that it was only part of him that did.

  When, for a moment, she pulled away, he thought that perhaps she had sensed his disquiet, only to read from her eyes that in fact she seemed hardly able to believe her luck. And he couldn’t trust his own eyes either, since as was their habit, they had settled on her lips, always so dark, so luscious and so enticing and forever destined to get the better of him.

  Apparently taking his immobility for acquiescence, she was now lifting herself across his thighs and bending to kiss the side of his neck, and at the jolt that ran the length of his spine, he flinched. How on earth was he supposed to resist her? Clearly, she was the devil come to test him. But why, if his head knew that much, did his body pay no heed? An image of Mary – hugely pregnant Mary – flashed through his mind but still he let Annie continue kissing him. Then he had a vision of Tom, his face contorted by rage. Still, though, he didn’t stop her and at that precise point, he knew for certain that he wasn’t going to, either. Even in his state of confusion, he recognised that the last time he had been this aroused it had also been with her, there never having been even a single moment with Mary – diligent in her duty but only ever lying inert beneath him – to rival the exhilaration of being completely at this woman’s mercy. He could feel her now, reaching to unbutton his breeches, and as though having no say in the matter, he raised his hips for her to slide them off. Then he felt her pinning his wrists firmly into the grass by his sides, an action he knew to be delusory because with a mind to he could easily overpower her, except, of course, that he didn’t want to. And clearly it was something that she also knew, choosing the perfect moment to lay claim to what she wanted.

  *

  When George opened his eyes, slowly and uncertainly, his first observation was simply that the storm still hadn’t broken, and it was only as he pulled himself upright and experienced a flash from what he was sluggish enough to hope might just have been a dream that he recalled what had happened. He risked a quick look down at her face. Lying beside him, her eyes appeared to be closed, and grateful for a moment to compose his thoughts, he lowered his head back down onto the grass, noiselessly exhaling a long breath as he tried to understand how he felt. Had he been asked to imagine this moment beforehand, he would have pictured it filled with remorse and regret – and of course, there was ample time yet for that to be the case – but the sensation that seemed to have overtaken him felt more like relief, as though the source of a persistent ache had finally been excised from his body to leave him feeling soothed and tranquil. And, if he was completely honest, he also felt ever so slightly pleased with himself.

  His contemplation, though, was brought to an abrupt end by a fork of blue-white lightning tearing open the dark sky, to be followed moments later by the first lumbering roll of thunder to reverberate across the valley. With a murmur that to George seemed the very embodiment of gratification, she stretched awake beside him, and with apparently no concern for either the clamour breaking out above them or the indefensible nature of what they had just done, she raised her head to say, ‘George, do you think we’d have made a good couple if we’d wed?’

  ‘What?’

  Apparently undaunted by his terseness, she repeated her question. ‘Do you think we’d have made a good couple if we’d wed?’

  ‘No, I don’t.’

  ‘Why not?’ We’re good together. I just showed you that.’

  ‘Because, for heaven’s sake, Annie that’s all we’re good for.’ Good God: need he have made that sound quite so brutal? ‘Forgive me,’ he said quietly and turned to face her; at the very least he owed her honesty. ‘No, I don’t think we’d have made a good couple. I’ll admit there’s summat that draws us together but then I’d be hard pushed to deny it after what we just did.’ Vexed, he exhaled a stream of air that sounded like something between a sigh and a groan. ‘But—’

  ‘What? But what?’ She was sitting upright now, looking at him more intently.

  ‘Look, Annie, I don’t pretend to understand any of this and Lord knows I’ve tried. Indeed, many’s the time I’ve pondered that very question but I don’t think—’

  ‘But you said it yourself, we’re drawn to each other.’

  ‘Aye an’ like I said, I don’t deny it but you asked about bein’ wed and that’s different. To my mind, a good marriage is based on something more, ain’t it?’

  ‘How should I know what makes a good marriage?’ she asked, her tone curt. ‘All I can tell you with any certainty is what don’t.’

  He raised his head to look at her.

  ‘No. I seen that.’

  The feebleness of his answer was underlined by the snort she gave in response.

  ‘Mighty sharp-eyed of you.’

  ‘Annie, look…’ but unsure what it was that he wanted to say, he watched as she bit her bottom lip and cast her eyes out across the blue-black valley.

  ‘Your brother’s an animal, George. All he does is take pleasure from making me suffer. He don’t love me and he never has, which is summat I discovered a long time ago. And in truth, I sometimes think he only wed me to get the better of you.’ The astuteness of her observation made him feel treacherous but he remained silent, telling himself that there was no need to compound her woes by letting her know that it was, in part at least, true. ‘He don’t even desire me, least, not in the sense any normal man would. He just uses me to sate his perverted needs. And it ain’t as though he ever made any pretence of the fact, either; he was like it right from the start. Granted, when we were first wed, I was able to keep him entertained. I mean, it weren’t like I didn’t know how to distract a man from summat I didn’t want to do but since then, well, his true nature’s come out and nothin’ I do works any more. You know summat?’ Slowly he shook his head. ‘He baits me. He baits me to provoking him just so that he can… well, I’m sure you can fancy how he likes to dish out the punishment. But what sort of man riles his wife just for the fun of it? Eh?’ He watched as she briefly closed her eyes and then resumed in a voice that was barely audible. ‘I don’t know any longer which is worse; that he’s filthy or that he’s evil but with every new day that dawns, I wish I’d never met him. I hate him an’ I wish he was dead.’

  ‘Annie, I don’t know what to say—’

  ‘No, well…’

  ‘Although I hope you didn’t do this just to spite him.’ It was bad enough to have his suspicions about his brother confirmed but even wors
e if he had been lured into betraying him for some petty gain on her part.

  ‘And I hope you didn’t.’

  ‘Look, I’m not the one who came up here with only one thing in mind,’ he said, suddenly resolute that most of the guilt should be hers.

  ‘Fair enough.’ Goodness she was quick to concede. ‘I won’t lie. I knew you’d be alone up here but I make no apology; I saw this as my one and only chance. And given that my husband long since destroyed the last of my pride, I reckoned on having nothing to lose.’

  ‘Annie…’ He looked at her, his chest heavy with what he knew to be regret; regret that he had let go the opportunity for both of their lives to have been so different. ‘I never realised he was so cruel. What he does…’ Perhaps if there was guilt to be shouldered, then all things considered his ought to be the larger share.

  She shrugged.

  ‘Why would you? There’s nothing to be gained by talking about it. No one would believe even the better half of it, anyway – certainly not your ma and pa – although I’ve long fancied they know what he’s like but prefer the blind eye.’ She paused for a moment and he watched as she bit absently at her bottom lip. ‘You know, there’s many a time I’ve thought serious about running away. But with no family to go to and a five-year-old son, what would I do? And it don’t help that I can picture all too well what would happen if he came after us.’ He saw her shudder as though suddenly cold. ‘It’s all my fault anyway. Just lately I been thinkin’ a lot about that day me an’ Ellen met the three of you at the fair. It was always you I wanted, right from the very first moment I seen you. So why did I take Tom’s arm? Why did I have to try an’ make you jealous? I could have just waited for you to come around to me but no, I had to ruin it, didn’t I? That one tiny mistake. My life would have been so different, wed to you.’

  He held himself rigid, struggling against the teetering feeling inside; against the need to let her know that it wasn’t only her fault; that every day for the last five years he had rued his backwardness that night. But something was locking his tongue in his head; something was telling him that this was no time for a confession that would change everything, forever. He looked across at her. She was running her hand backwards and forwards over the grass but still staring out over the meadow.

  ‘You can’t be sure how it would have worked out, Annie or that I would have made you happy,’ he answered, opting for partial honesty over an outright lie, something he had a feeling he might not be able to deliver convincingly.

  ‘Oh but you would have,’ she said without a moment’s hesitation and turned towards him. ‘For a start, I know for certain that you wouldn’t demean me like he does. All your worst habits together wouldn’t add up to a single one of his. I see how you treat Mary; you’re kind and gentle with her. You ain’t got a cruel bone in your body. I would have been happy wed to you even if you hadn’t loved me… but I know you would have. Here, let me show you,’ she said, pushing his shoulder back down onto the grass and settling herself across his thighs.

  ‘No, Annie—’

  ‘I’m begging you, George, don’t deny me the feeling of how it can be, of how a man is supposed to make a woman feel. Please.’ As she bent low over him, he looked back at her. In his heart was dismay, regret, guilt – all of them there in abundance – but all of them overshadowed by the most powerful feeling of all: desire. ‘See, I know what you like. I understand you,’ she was saying, her lips hot and moist on the side of his neck, then the top of his shoulder, ‘I can give you what you need,’ the base of his throat, under his chin, ‘…what you don’t get from…’ and then his mouth, ‘so please, let me do this for you.’

  ‘Annie, don’t. This is unfair—’

  ‘When… was any of this… ever… fair…?’

  ‘I…’ In the end though, what difference did it make? He could protest all he liked but they both knew that he was never going to be able to resist. And in any event, it was already too late for fears of regret. She was leaning forward, her dark tresses swaying in time with the movement of her body and as he looked back at her, he noticed how her pale skin had taken on a luminous sheen against the baleful sky. She was right, of course; she did know what he wanted; exactly what he wanted and she was the only one who ever had.

  ‘So tell me now, George,’ she said a little while later as she lay panting at his side, ‘that we wouldn’t have been happy together.’

  ‘No,’ he replied, breathing equally heavily. ‘I don’t deny what you do to me Annie. How could I? But we should at least be honest with each other, since this ain’t what you’d like to think it is; it ain’t love, not real love. This,’ in frustration he waved his hand at nothing in particular, ‘is lust and most certainly a sin of thought even had we the strength not to give in to it.’ But barely had he finished speaking when he was bewildered to see her spring to her feet and in one movement snatch up her skirt, step into it and pull it up over her hips. Hearing her curse as she fumbled to fasten it about her, he sat up, trying to fathom the abrupt change in her behaviour, while avoiding looking in his direction, she plucked her blouse from the grass, pulled it arbitrarily over her head and wrestled with the ribbons at the front. In a panic, he leapt to his feet and grabbed her by the wrist, ‘Annie… ʼtis but the truth.’

  Struggling to pull herself free, she looked at him defiantly.

  ‘No, George, don’t. You made yourself perfectly clear. I opened my heart to you but I see now that you don’t feel the same. And that makes you almost as bad as him.’

  ‘Oh no you don’t,’ he started to say, tightening his grip on her wrist as she shook her arm to be free of him. ‘I may well be weak where you are concerned but I’m nothing like him. And you know that for the truth, otherwise you wouldn’t have come up here.’

  From very close by, another clap of thunder made her jump but without answering him, she wrenched her wrist free from his grasp and turned quickly about. Feeling shame for his carelessly flung words that said more about his own guilt in all of this than hers, he let her go. He may well have spoken the truth but on reflection, he could have been less blunt about it, especially after what they had just shared. He turned back down the garden, frustrated by the way they had parted, another flash of lightning bringing his attention back to the present. The breeze was carrying the smell of rain, and sensing that it wasn’t far off, he darted about to usher in the hens. Then he untied the cow and led her up to the outhouse, where he closed the bottom of the door behind her before going to the pump to douse himself with water and retrieve his breeches. More thunder reverberated in his ribs but as he dashed across the yard to go inside, he heard her voice yelling breathlessly and spun around to come face to face with her.

  ‘George, George!’

  She looked ashen and shocked and his heart skipped a beat.

  ‘What?’

  ‘You better come quick. ’Tis Mary. The baby’s coming. Tabitha was sent for you. I met her coming across the ford.’

  ‘Tabitha?’

  ‘Go. Quick. Run.’

  In one, swift move, he grabbed his shirt and pulling it on, ran up the bank to the lane just as giant drops of rain started to splash all around him. Quickly the rain became torrential but it didn’t slow his pace, even as he reached the ford and a vivid image came to mind; they had sent Tabby to get him. Thinking about it made him shudder; even if she had knocked at the front door – which few of the family ever did – then finding no answer she would have come around to the back. Common sense also told him that having been sent on such an urgent errand, she wouldn’t have simply walked off without finding him, no matter how unreliable she could be at times. At the very least she would have walked down as far as the vegetable plot and looked around… where she would clearly have seen or heard them. Picturing the scene sent gooseflesh over his wet skin. It had been a very narrow escape, since there really would have been no earthly explanation as to why Tabitha might have stumbled across him and Annie, entwined and naked on the grass.
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br />   *

  Pacing about in the mugginess of the parlour, bedraggled and anxious, George winced and looked helplessly to Will for reassurance as Mary’s cries became more frequent and more terrifying. Then, abruptly, they ceased altogether. With a panic-stricken glance to his brother, he sprinted along the hallway hoping that the silence signalled the baby’s arrival rather than something that he couldn’t even contemplate. Beside the door, he hovered uncertainly and then felt a wave of relief as he heard a jumble of congratulations being pierced by the shrill cry of a newborn. With his breathing rapid and shallow, he stood in a turbulent whirl of emotions, clenching and unclenching his fists. Perspiring excessively, he felt for a moment as though he was going to be sick but somehow, through his turmoil, he became aware of Will putting a hand on his arm.

  ‘I think it’s all over.’

  It was as much as he could do, though, not to shake him off.

  ‘Aye,’ he replied, grateful that no one could read his thoughts; in truth it was far from over. This moment – this very moment that should be the proudest of his life – was beset by unconscionable guilt. How was it even possible to go from the most unbelievable euphoria to the deepest pit of regret in such a short space of time and on account of two such miraculous but utterly conflicting events?

  He wanted to ask himself why he had surrendered to her but it was a question without purpose; he knew full well why. He had needed to remind himself of what it could be like, of how alive she made him feel. But he also realised now that he had been fooling himself if, for one moment, he had thought that giving in to his desire would somehow cure him of it. That was the problem with an obsession; it always remained just that, an obsession – and he could see now that all he had done was to simply reignite his desire and fall even further under her spell. Standing with his fists clenched at his sides, a mixture of helplessness and anger washed over him but feeling the wariness in Will’s look, he stopped pacing back and forth and uncurled his fists. How was he ever going to face his wife, though? And more to the point, how on earth was he going to live with what he had done?