A Marriage Consummated

As I had dressed earlier that morning to prepare for my wedding, my grandmother explained to me the inner workings of the bridal chamber. "It doesn't have to hurt Elsy, if ye sing your song and make it yer hearts desire."

My troubles went far beyond the virgin pains of the wedding night. I could not imagine that I could ever love a child if I did not love the child's father. I was scared senseless to ever become a mother. I had no younger brothers or sisters to speak of; I did not think a speck of motherly instinct dwelled in any part of my being. I once witnessed a baby goat being born and I thought to myself, how on earth could anyone love that slimy looking rodent? I longed to have siblings but I knew it was never a possibility, because after my mother's death, my father never married again. I was his most prized possession, the product of true love. How could I dishonor the sacredness of my conception by conceiving a child with a man I would never love?

 A pivotal night in the memories of my childhood was during a raid of the Barbary pirates on our village. My grandmother and I hid in the cellar of the farmhouse; she knew that a child of my unique beauty would sell for quite a high price into slavery. In a calm and quiet voice she whispered to me "my wee lassie ye sing now. Think only ye heart’s desire and it will be so." Obediently I sang the familiar lullaby that my grandmother had sung to me every night from infancy, she hummed along with me. Grandmother kept both arms around me rocking me gently as I sang, comforting not only me but I imagine, herself as well. With each note, I imagined the Pirates simply turning around, walking back to their boat, and sailing far away. We could hear the horses fast approaching our barn, but all at once, the noise stopped. My grandmother and I waited in the cellar until dawn the next day. The small window above our heads where we sat crouched in the cellar finally let in the first light of morning. We went out of the house and were astonished to see six unfamiliar horses grazing, in front of our barn. 

We heard variations of what was witnessed that night from the villagers. Six Pirates walked back through the village toward the dock in a trance like state, walking directly into the sea and drowned themselves. My grandmother would tell me that my song had sung of them away, the sound of my voice carried on the wind in the light of the full moon. I chose to believe that this was how my grandmother comforted me that night, to distract me from the impending doom that awaited us. However, I could not deny the fact that for whatever mysterious reason, the Pirates had dismounted the horses and simply walked away to their death.

Six years later, while on a merchant voyage to the Mediterranean in 1803 my father’s boat was overtaken by Pirates. My father was murdered, as was the majority of his crew, some I heard, were sold into slavery, I was 11 years old.

My Grandfather, the Duke of Essex, made arrangements with Grannie for the two of us to come and live with him at Daffyn House.  Granddad was as Jolly and kind as Saint Nick, having softened in his old age. Grannie and Granddad made every effort to give me stability and love. Despite the odd trio we became, we laughed easily. Grannie and Granddad were completely opposite in almost every way, views on politics, ideals, their temperament – but what they had in common was their love for me. He doted on me, the exact replica of his beloved late wife and daughter. Granddad, deemed me in need of an advantageous marriage for his own reasons, He never forgave himself for cutting off his one and only child, my mother. In the event of his wife’s death he disregarded the iron clad rules of propriety. Over the past 10 years that I have lived in Essex, I had become the epitome of a proper English lady by my ripe old age of 21. My Grannie was the only glimpse that I had back into my former beloved life in Scotland, of who I truly was.

As my thoughts came back to the present happenings of the room around me I realized it was time. In my most convincing accent reflecting nobility I chimed my glass with the nearby spoon and clearly stated, "I have promised a song for my new husband and a song I shall sing."

The haunting melody began to flow from my lungs smooth and warm and inviting like the whiskey in my glass.

As I walked forth one summer’s day,

To view the meadows green and gay

A pleasant bower I espied

Standing fast by the river side…

Every eye in the room was upon me, I had them all at my beckoning. I began to feel my nerves push in; having this much power was terrifying. I had to stay focused in this moment…. My hearts desire, my hearts desire...I began to repeat it over and over in my mind...may my womb never be blessed with a child from this Union... May my womb never be blessed with a child from this union… Let it be so, let it be so… as the final words were sung the room remained quiet momentarily entranced.

When she had fill’d her apron full

Of such green things as she could cull,

The green things served her for her bed,

The flow’rs were the pillows for her head;

Then down she laid her, ne’er more did speak;

Alas! Alas! With love her heart did break.

What seemed like hours was only seconds before an uproar of clapping and cheering began. Frederick’s eyes were locked on mine, glazed from trance and drink. My mild shudder went unnoticed to our guests, the melancholy connotation of my chosen song went amiss to all but me. Grannie gave me a nod and a knowing smile as if to say, “Well done wee lassie, well done.”

My job was finished I could only hope that all of the myths and legends my grandmother told me were true, that my singing voice really did hold a magical power…and if it didn't I had better drink up.

It was three hours past midnight when Sir Frederick entered my room in his robe. He was a kindly enough gentleman albeit cocky and boisterous. A score and one year elder, marrying him would not have been my first choice, had there been any choice to begin with. A tall and gangly man he was, with a face so pale that under any sort of excitement the bright purple and blue veins in his neck almost seem to burst through his translucent skin. His reddish blond hair not quite as vibrant as my own and feathered with white as well was his impeccably groomed mustache. He looked like he could have been my father rather than husband. He was born of the most noble and advantageous circumstance. Growing up in the Kings court made him to be a quite the eligible bachelor with the money and connections he was born with. Frederick was the sole heir to the Daffyn House estate. Having met him at the young age of 12 I knew right from the start that he was quite infatuated with me. He was never inappropriate towards me, always a gentleman. I knew that my granddad and Frederick had planned our betrothal many years prior. They assumed me unaware of this arrangement and I gladly allowed this misunderstanding so that I could pretend as though it was not my fate. Nonetheless it was my duty, to honor my loved ones that had died and to provide for the one still living.

"Good evening my lovely wife I trust you have had a pleasant evening?"

"Yes Frederick thank you." I could feel my hand beginning to tremble as he walked closer to the bed where I sat.

"Mary Helen you must know that I will be gentle, and I will cherish you, every part of you."

I couldn't speak but I leaned over to blow out the candle on the table next to the bed. One candle remained lit on the dressing table but it was dark enough that I felt like I had a bit of a place to hide.

He leaned over and kissed me and I forced myself to kiss him back, it wasn't unpleasant. Frederick’s mouth was warm and smelled of Whiskey and tobacco. His mustache tickled my top lip, standing up he removed his robe and revealed his long and lanky body. His pale skin taught over his sinewy muscles. Not completely terrible to look at, but I had nothing to compare him to having never seen a naked man before. Looking down I could see that he was aroused. I blushed at the oddity and foreign shape of the male member.

"There is a way to get a woman ready for when she has not been with a man before. I'm going to put my mouth between your legs."

Slightly taken aback, I picked up my goblet of Whiskey from the bedside table and downed what remained. Fredrick chuckled. I allowed him to lean me back against my pillows and slowly opened my quivering legs, then gently slid up my nightdress. I was thankful that I didn't have to look him in the eye for a few more moments, I was so nervous. The sensation of his mouth was heated and enjoyable, I trembled as his tongue flicked back-and-forth and I felt myself becoming aroused. Using his fingers he entered me, massaging and loosening my virginity. I was breathless, but not in pain. Frederick decided after a few more moments his work had sufficed. He began to kiss up the side of my navel, stopping to caress my breasts and pay homage. I could feel his firmness as he breathed, “I'm going to begin.” I opened my legs and let them fall apart to give him my blessing. He entered and I gasped. It stung a bit. Slowly thrusting in and barely out. Once, twice, three times...

"I will go slowly just say the word and I can stop."

I couldn't say a word not even a peep.

Four times…five times…

I didn't realize I was holding my breath until the pressure inside me suddenly stopped. He had gone limp. He jolted upright to his knees grabbing his robe saying, "If you'll excuse me...I'm so sorry” muttering to himself as he left the room, he closed the door behind him. I was dumbstruck, sprawled across my marriage bed, deflowered and alone. I curled into myself and I wept for a long time.

~~~~~

My weeping turned to sniffling and soft hiccups as I began to consider the obvious. The song.

The flow’rs were the pillows for her head;

Then down she laid her, ne’er more did speak;

Alas! Alas! With love her heart did break.

The song I sang had done this. I thought it would make me barren but I suppose I didn't consider it would make sir Fredrick impotent. Was I able to conceive? I guess I would never know, for it was not likely that Sir Frederick would ever approach me in this way again having already taken a deafening blow to his ego. Too tired to think anymore I drifted off to sleep.