Coulson's Wife (The Coulson Series) (2 page)

“P
apa, please,
don’t make me do this!” Mary Ellen pleaded with her father, who silently packed
her trunk since she refused to do so.

In the adjacent room,
her mother sat quietly in the rocking chair, gently rocking back and forth,
staring blankly ahead. Since hearing the news of her eldest child’s death, she
had retreated into herself and refused to talk. Because of her self-imposed
isolation, Sally Browning was unwilling
—
or unable
—
to
speak up for her daughter. Instead, she silently mourned the loss of one child
while she was about to lose another.

“Stop this, Mary Ellen.
You’re a lucky girl that Mr. Coulson wants you for his wife.” Edward Browning
angrily shoved his daughter’s meager belongings into the opened trunk.

“Are you really trading
me for a house, Papa?”

Browning paused from
the packing long enough to reach over and backhand his daughter across her
face, sending her stumbling to the floor. In the other room, the rocking paused
for a moment and then resumed. Crouched on the floor, Mary Ellen began to sob.

“Your mother is no use
to me now, girl. How am I to take care of this family, with her just sitting in
there all day long?”

“I can help you Papa,”
Mary Ellen sobbed, rubbing her face, which still stung from the assault.

“The boys can take over
your chores. It’s time for you to marry anyway, and even if Mr. Coulson didn’t
so generously offer to move us into a better house, I would still insist on
this match. Good lord girl, he’s a rich man. Do you really think you can do
better finding a husband on your own? What’s wrong with him; isn’t he good
looking enough for you?”

“I don’t even know
him.” In truth, Randall Coulson was a very handsome man. That she could not
deny. He was tall, even taller than her papa, with dark brown eyes and darker
hair. He didn’t have a bulky physique like her father, but was lean and trim. A
stylish man typically clad in snazzy silk suits, he wore his hair slicked back
and she imagined the cost of his leather shoes would feed her family for a
year. But he wasn’t an approachable man, not someone who she might engage for
small talk; much less share a lifetime with.

In fact, she had never
had a real conversation with Randall Coulson. She understood why she should be
flattered. He and William Hunter owned the plant Ed Browning had been working at
since it first opened eight years earlier. 

No longer crying, Mary
Ellen got to her feet and faced her father.  An inexplicable wave of guilt
washed over her. She regretted the careless accusation about trading her for a
house. Not for a moment did she doubt her father would insist on this match
even if it did not include a new home for the family. Mary Ellen Browning felt
like a very ungrateful girl, especially considering the current condition of
her mother.

“I’m sorry Papa,” Mary
Ellen mumbled, tears filling her eyes again.

Edward Browning studied
his daughter. For the past week, she’d been fighting against the marriage, and
now it seemed she’d finally acquiesced.
Perhaps I should have smacked her
earlier,
he thought. He would be sorry to see her go, considering she’d
faithfully attended to her mother the last few weeks. He wasn’t sure how he
would handle Sally, but he imagined having a new house
—
one that was paid for
—
would certainly help, and he could then afford to
hire someone to tend to his wife.

Fortunately, he managed
to keep Coulson away from Sally on his last visit. If Coulson suspected there
was some mental illness in the family, he certainly would call off the match.  Browning
hoped his wife would soon snap out of the depression, as it was wearing on his
nerves.

“Good girl.” Ed gave
her a smile and reached over and patted her right arm. “Now you finish up
packing, we need to leave for the train station within the hour.”

“Yes, Papa,” Mary Ellen
said dully, watching her father leave the room. Silent tears streamed down her
face. Sitting on the edge of the bed, she heard a door shut and suspected her
father had gone outside. Perhaps he was going to pick up her aunt, who would be
travelling with her to Philadelphia. Mary Ellen had never been to Philadelphia.
She had never been outside of Virginia. Her only adventures and travels were
through the books she read.

“Mary Ellen?” came a
small child’s voice from the doorway. She looked up to see two of her younger
brothers standing at the entrance to her bedroom.

“Billy, where are your
brothers?” Mary Ellen asked as the two edged their way into her tiny room.
Being the only girl, she was afforded her own bedroom, which doubled as her
mother’s sewing room. The brothers had long since learned they were not allowed
in without an invitation, something they seemed to have forgotten; yet just
this once, she did not mind.

“In the barn, finishing
morning chores. We just passed Papa and he said you’re really leaving today. I
thought he was just fooling us. Do you really have to go?”

“I guess so,” Mary
Ellen said sadly as her two young brothers moved closer, standing by her side.
Although the boys were both the same height, Billy had just turned eight, while
Johnny was a year younger.

“But who’s gonna take
care of Mama?” Johnny asked.

“Or cook for us?” Billy
wondered aloud.

Instead of answering
their questions, Mary Ellen stared at her two brothers.
Aren’t you going to
miss me?
she silently asked. Her brief moment of self-pity ended when
Johnny climbed onto her lap and gave her a hug, insisting he was going to miss
her
—
Mary Ellen Browning,
his big sister.

Her other brothers, those
who hadn’t gone off to war, finished their chores and came to say goodbye
before she was taken to the train depot with her Aunt Rachel. There were tears,
even a few from her mother who seemed to finally grasp that her only daughter
was leaving home. Yet aside from giving Mary Ellen a brief hug and kissing her
on the cheek, Sally did not ask her daughter to stay and seemed accepting of
the girl’s fate.

 At the train station,
Edward awkwardly patted his daughter’s shoulder, kissed her forehead, and told
her to be a good and obedient wife and to attend church every Sunday.

“Will you write me,
Papa, and let me know how you all are?” Mary Ellen asked as she started to
board the train.

“I suspect I’ll be all
too busy to write, considering your mother’s condition. But I imagine you
mother will write when she’s feeling better.”

• • • •

“Are you alright dear?”
Aunt Rachel asked Mary Ellen a half hour later. The two women sat side by side
in the train car as it rolled bumpily down the tracks.  Neither woman had
spoken since boarding the train, each lost in her own personal thoughts.

“I’m just nervous, Aunt
Rachel. I don’t really know Mr. Coulson, yet I’m to be his wife.”

“Has your mother talked
to you,” Rachel lowered her voice so the other passengers wouldn’t overhear,
“what goes on between a husband and wife?”

“Yes, Mother explained
things to me when Gertrude got married last spring.”

“Your mother’s niece?”

“Yes. Aunt Bertha and
Uncle Harvey’s oldest daughter.”

“Oh, I remember. Bertha
was a sweet girl, looked a great deal like your mother.”

“Yes, I’ve seen
pictures of her. Uncle Harvey’s last wife died a few months before Gertrude’s
wedding.”

“Harvey did have bad
luck with his wives. She was his third, wasn’t she?”

“She was, which is why
it fell on my mother to explain things to Gertrude.”

“Makes sense. I can’t
imagine Harvey having
that
talk with Gertrude.”

 “Mother decided to
tell me at the same time, I guess she figured she’d get it out of the way all
at once.”

“So you understand
then, what is expected of you?”

“I
—
I suppose so. But it all sounds
so strange, and mother says it will hurt at first. It all seems very
embarrassing.”

“It’ll help if you
close your eyes,” Rachel suggested.

“Close my eyes?” Mary
Ellen didn’t want to admit she was rather curious about what a grown man looked
like with his clothes off, yet suspected the lights would be turned off so she
probably wouldn’t see anything anyway.

“And I have something
that might help you. I prepared it after Edward told me you were getting
married,” Rachel confided. She reached into the handbag sitting on her lap and
pulled out a small glass mason jar and handed it to her niece. Mary Ellen took
the jar and looked at it curiously. It appeared to holding some sort of thick
liquid.

“Before you go to your
husband, to
—
you know
—
you’ll want to wash up and put
on your nightgown,” Rachel whispered. “Don’t wear anything under the nightgown,
instead—well apply this, well
—
down
there. It will make it all less uncomfortable.”

“Mama never told me
about this before.” Mary Ella frowned, then slipped the jar into her own
handbag.

“Well dear,” Rachel said
as she patted Mary Ellen’s knee, “there are a few things I know that would
quite shock my dear brother and your mother.”

They were silent for a
few moments when Mary Ellen asked, “Do you think Mama will get better? It’s
like she isn’t even there.”

“Losing Ed Junior was
quite a shock for the poor dear. I do believe he was always her favorite.”

“But Papa and the boys
need her. She has to get better.”

“Give her time, dear. I
promise to look in on her frequently when I return home. And I’ll write you.”

“I’d appreciate that,
Aunt Rachel. And I also appreciate you coming with me. I don’t know what I’d do
if I had to make this trip alone. Will you be staying long?”

“I’m afraid not. From
what I understand, when we arrive in Philadelphia we’ll go directly to your
fiancé’s house.”

“Fiancé
—
that sounds so strange.”

“The ceremony will take
place when we arrive, and I’m to be a witness.”

“You mean I’m going to
be married today?”

“Of course, didn’t your
father explain?”

“No, not really.”

“I’ll be taken back to
the station after the ceremony, and head back home.”

“Can’t you stay a
while?” Mary Ellen pleaded.

“I’m afraid not, dear.
Edward made it very clear that I must return this evening.”

“Then that must mean
—
tonight
—
Mr. Coulson expects me to perform my wifely duties
tonight.”

“Yes dear.” Rachel
patted her niece’s knee again. “Just remember to close your eyes and use the
ointment I gave you, and you’ll get through it with minimal discomfort.”

“I think I’m going to
be sick,” she said dully.

“Nonsense. Women have
been performing their wifely duties since the beginning of time.” Rachel
studied her niece for a moment.

“Dear, by any chance is
it your time of month?”

Mary Ellen blushed at
the question and shook her head no, and whispered the date her menstruation had
last stopped.

“Do you understand that
if you chart such things, it’ll help you determine if you’re with child, when
that time comes?” Rachel asked, not certain how much her niece really
understood about these delicate matters.

“Yes, mother
explained.” Mary Ellen studied her folded hands that fidgeted nervously on her
lap.

“And you have been
charting yours, I assume?”

Mary Ellen nodded in
the affirmative, still looking down.

“Are your cycles fairly
regular? Do you start about the same time each month?”

Mary Ellen nodded
again, wishing her aunt would cease asking such embarrassing questions. However,
Rachel Browning Spencer had a reputation for saying what was on her mind,
regardless of social protocol. In some ways Mary Ellen was a little surprised
her father had asked his sister to accompany her on the trip, considering there
was no guarantee Aunt Rachel wouldn’t say something that might offend Mr. Coulson.
Yet there was really no one else he could ask.

“I’ll tell you a little
secret,” Aunt Rachel whispered.

“What is that?”

“If you allow yourself
to grow fond of your Mr. Coulson, you might actually find pleasure in the act.”

“Really? That certainly
isn’t how my mother explained it.”

“Yes dear, but your
poor mother is married to my brother.” Aunt Rachel patted her niece’s knee
again, leaned back in the seat, and closed her eyes to take a short nap,
satisfied she’d given the young bride all the tools necessary to successfully
start her new life with a man she barely knew.

P
ulling the gold pocket
watch from his vest’s pocket, William Hunter flipped open the timepiece. The
train had already arrived and passengers were unloading. Glancing down at the
face of the watch, he calculated when he might make it back to Coulson’s
estate.  
Randall should be the one meeting his bride
, he told himself.
Yet somehow, Randall had convinced William to pick up the women and bring them
back to the estate for the brief ceremony.

Shaking his head in
disgust, William closed the watch and tucked it back into his vest pocket while
watching the passengers unload. Either the bride wasn’t on the train or she
wasn’t anxious to get off the car. Passenger after passenger walked down the
steps, each clutching onto the iron handrail to avoid a misstep.

After watching
countless passengers disembark, an elderly man slowly made his exit from the
car and William expected to see Mary Ellen and her aunt behind him. Yet there
was no one. It appeared that all passengers had gotten off the train. William
wondered if Mary Ellen had convinced her aunt to get off at another stop, for
he knew she had boarded the train that morning.

About to turn away and
return to Coulson’s estate to inform Randall the bride had fled, he paused when
he spied two more passengers emerging from the train. It was Mary Ellen and her
aunt. Instead of rushing to meet them, he took a moment to observe the pair as
they made their way down the car’s steps, each carrying a hat and handbag in
one hand while using the other to hold onto the handrail.

Randall was correct, William
begrudgingly admitted to himself. Mary Ellen Browning no longer looked like a
child. The blue-gray ankle length skirt accentuated her tiny waist. He imagined
he could easily wrap his large hands around her middle, with his opposing
thumbs touching on her belly side and the tips of his fingers meeting at the
base of her back. The thought intrigued him and he felt something stir under
his britches, causing him to shift his weight in an attempt to dispel such
unwanted bodily responses.

She wore a pale blue,
long sleeved blouse tucked neatly into the waistband of the skirt. Dark blue
lace trimmed the cuffs and neckline of the fitted blouse. Her figure was trim,
yet did not lack curves and he found her generous bust line a surprise. She had
definitely changed since the last time he had seen her.

Her long dark hair was
not cut to accommodate bangs. Instead, that portion, with strands along the
side of her face, was pulled back and secured with a bow. The length of her
hair fell at least six inches past her shoulders. The hairstyle was almost
girlish. He wondered briefly if she would take to wearing her hair up in a bun
once she was married. He hoped not.

The moment they stepped
completely from the train, both women placed their hats atop their heads,
adjusted the fit slightly by wiggling the headgear to and fro, and then looked
around for whoever was there to greet them.

It was the first time
he’d seen her aunt, and he again agreed with Randall; she was a handsome woman.
He estimated she stood about five-feet-five-inches tall, several inches shorter
than her niece did. The two looked nothing alike. Rachel Browning Spencer was a
voluptuous widow in her mid-forties, with blonde hair worn stylishly in a bun
atop her head. Although her ankle length dress was a conservative cut, it could
not conceal her shapely figure.

Taking a deep breath,
he decided it was time to approach the women and get on with the unsavory
arrangement. Mary Ellen looked his way as he started walking in her direction. By
her expression, it was obvious she recognized him. Her full lips curved into a
welcoming smile and he wondered what it would be like to kiss those soft lips.

Where did that thought
come from?
William wondered. He told himself that was a
shameful thought to have about his best friend’s fiancée, even if said friend
was not in love with the girl. Instead of mustering a sufficient amount of
regret for his inappropriate thought, he cursed himself for not coming up with
Randall’s idea first. It was time he married, and he could certainly afford to
buy old man Browning a new house.

That girl is just seventeen!
he reminded himself.
A seventeen-year-old woman, ready for the marriage bed.
William groaned.
You are as bad as Randall!
he silently cursed
himself.

“Mister Hunter, hello.
I didn’t expect to see you here,” Mary Ellen greeted sweetly, offering her
hand. William accepted and gave it a brief squeeze, then released it and gave a
nod of greeting to the aunt.

“Miss Browning, it is
so nice to see you again. I assume this is Mrs. Spencer?” William said, tipping
his hat in greeting to the older woman.

“I expected Mr. Coulson
to meet us,” Rachel said. “You are here for us, I assume?”

“Yes, Mr. Coulson had
some last minute business he had to attend to. I’ll be taking you both to his
home. I assume you have luggage?”

“Yes, one trunk,” Mary
Ellen said, looking up into his face. William froze a moment, captivated by the
innocent blue eyes staring up at him. The impulse to steal a kiss from her was
almost impossible to resist, but he managed to do so.

• • • •

Mary Ellen recognized William
Hunter immediately. He’d left quite an impression on her when he came to the
Browning home for supper the previous year. Taller than Randall Coulson,
Hunter’s shoulders were broader than his business partner’s and she wondered
briefly how he might look without a shirt. The scandalous thought made her
blush. Like his business partner, he did not wear a mustache.

His eyes were blue like
hers, yet a deeper color, she thought. While both business partners were
handsome men, William Hunter always seemed to be smiling, which Mary Ellen
liked. Randall Coulson rarely smiled. She recalled how William gently teased
her when she helped her mother serve dinner. It was as if he wanted to put her
at ease. Randall Coulson seemed to be constantly inspecting her person, as if
he was looking for some flaw. But Randall Coulson wanted to marry her, so
perhaps she had misjudged him.
Would a man wish to marry a woman that he
felt was lacking?
she asked herself.  

Within a half an hour,
they had retrieved her trunk and loaded it in the back of the motor car that waited
to take the three to the Coulson estate. Mary Ellen said very little, lost in
her own private thoughts while her aunt and fiancé’s business partner chatted
away making small talk, as they got into the vehicle and began driving toward
her final destination.

I am getting married
today!
Mary Ellen reminded herself as she looked out the car’s
window and watched the sights of Philadelphia whiz by. She’d never been to the
city before, yet she was paying little attention to the scenery. Under other
circumstances, she would be eagerly soaking up the new sights. Instead, her
stomach churned and she prayed she would not vomit when she arrived at Randall
Coulson’s doorstep.

I am getting married to
a man I don’t know,
Mary Ellen told herself. For days, she
had been resisting this fate. She had cried and pleaded with her father, and he
would not budge. She did not finally acquiesced because her father slapped her,
but because she eventually realized she had no choice in the matter. Her fate
was inevitable. Growing up, she had been taught her duty as a daughter was to
obey her father, and as a wife, she must obey her husband. Yet for some reason,
the thought of obeying a man she barely knew troubled her.

Maybe moving into a new
house will help Mama.
Ultimately, it all came down to her
mother, who seemed to be lost in grief. Mary Ellen told herself she would obey
her father’s wishes to ease her mother’s burden.

She remembered how her
mother cried when her older brothers went off to war, and how the family prayed
every night to keep them safe.

“This is it!” William
called out cheerfully, pulling into a long brick paved driveway. It led to an
impressive three-storied mansion situated some distance from the street, which
afforded the home’s residents a measure of privacy.

Mary Ellen’s eyes
widened at the sight.
I’m going to live here?
While her family did not
live in poverty as did many of her neighbors in Virginia, and the Brownings were
considered prominent members of their small community, seeing Coulson’s estate
made her feel like one of her backwoods neighbors. She was terrified.

• • • •

William stopped the car
and glanced in the back seat where Mary Ellen was sitting. Her expression of
sheer terror momentarily stunned him. He couldn’t help but feel sorry for the
poor girl. Within an hour, she would be married to Randall Coulson and her aunt
would be taken back to the train station, leaving her all alone. He knew
Randall would not hurt her, but he wasn’t confident the man would use much
finesse claiming his marital rights when he was alone with his bride.

Rachel immediately
exited the car and wandered over to a side garden to admire the colorful
blossoms while her niece continued to sit in the backseat. She assumed Mary
Ellen was waiting for William to open the car door and Rachel wasn’t about to
waste her day by sitting in the passenger seat a moment longer, since her time
in Philadelphia was limited.

William turned around
in his seat and faced Mary Ellen, who sat quietly, staring at the intimidating
estate.

“It’s going to be all right,”
William assured her, his voice soft and soothing. Mary Ellen’s gaze flashed up
into his face; she hadn’t realized he had been staring at her. The two sat
together in the parked vehicle.

“Am I?” she asked, her
voice low and steady.

“I imagine you’re
nervous. I understand this engagement was rather
—
sudden
.”

“No one asked me if I
wanted to marry Mr. Coulson.” The moment she said the words she regretted them.

“Please don’t tell him
I said that!” she blurted, sounding frantic. William reached over the seat and
patted her hand.

“I promise, I won’t say
anything. But I already suspected that. You know, if you really don’t want to
do this, I can take you back to the station and buy you a ticket home.”

“When you said it’s
going to be okay, what did you mean?”

“I know Randall can be
a bit intimidating, but he’s not a bad man. I don’t believe he would ever
physically hurt you, he isn’t like that. But I’ll warn you, he tends to say
exactly what he thinks, even if it’s something that might hurt someone’s
feelings and is best left unsaid.”

Mary Ellen didn’t
respond immediately. Finally she took a deep breath and seemed to relax.

“So if I ask him how he
likes a new dress, he won’t necessarily flatter me?” she asked with a shy
smile.

“No, I definitely would
not anticipate much flattering from your new husband
—
even if he finds your dress attractive.” William
chuckled. He opened his car door and got out, then helped Mary Ellen from the
vehicle.

“But I promise to
shower flattery on you when I come to visit
—
and I am often here.”

“Oh my, but what will
my husband think?” Mary Ellen teased, too naïve to realize she was flirting
with her fiancé’s attractive business partner.

“Then we won’t tell
him, it will be our secret.” William laughed, fully aware that he was flirting
with the pretty, young and engaged Miss Mary Ellen Browning.