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Charlotte 1883
This material is copyright, 2004, Uther Pendragon. All rights reserved. I specifically grant the right of downloading and keeping one electronic copy for your personal reading so long as this notice is included. Reposting requires previous permission. If you have any comments or requests, please e-mail them to me at anon584c@nyx.net. All persons here depicted, except public figures depicted as public figures in the background, are figments of my imagination and any resemblance to persons living or dead is strictly coincidental. |
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Charlotte 1883
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"So?" "He's young. And single. And he looks dreamy." Charlotte wondered what a single preacher would do in the parsonage. It was larger than the house which accommodated her family of six and their maid of all work. Rev. Woods had shut up some rooms; and he had been married, though his children were long grown. Charlotte waited until Sunday to see the preacher. Daniel Osborne was young, and he preached loud sermons. He concentrated less on sin than on salvation. After harvest was in, she found what he planned to do with the parsonage. He asked the young people to visit him Sunday evenings. A few families, like the Browns, actually lived in the village, but most of the children would have to borrow the family buggy to get there. The evenings were fun, though. Rev. Osborne started them off with a prayer and some hymns, but he felt comfortable with secular songs after that. He served (soft) cider or hot chocolate depending on the weather. Only for the worst weather of winter did he cancel those evenings. Some boys took to giving rides to girls. Rev. Osborne said that this was generous of them, and made no other comment when he performed weddings for two of those couples. Charlotte, however, had no special boy; besides, the Larson buggy usually held her younger brother, Will, and sometimes her sister, Alice, as well. John was too young. At first, Rev. Osborne played his own piano for those evenings. When the Deetman children came down with chicken pox, Dr. Jenkins quarantined the whole family. Since Mrs. Deetman couldn't play the piano for church, Charlotte was pressed into service. She played for Sarah Deetman's funeral, too; Mrs. Deetman couldn't be expected to play then. George and Hannah recovered, though, and Mrs. Deetman took her usual place at the piano. "Charlotte," Rev. Osborne said that Sunday evening, "I think I have inflicted my playing on this group enough times. I didn't know you played so well. Could you play for us?" So she played for the youth group. Some of the songs were chosen by those in attendance, but Rev. Osborne took to consulting her after service about what would be suitable and what various people liked. "Lucky Lottie," said Minnie. "I wish Rev. Osborne wanted to talk with me. Don't you think he looks dreamy?" Charlotte blushed. She thought Reverend Osborne looked dreamy, and sounded dreamy -- especially when he sang. For that matter, he sometimes appeared in her dreams, but she couldn't talk about those to Minnie. She couldn't talk about them to anybody. In those dreams, Dan Osborne sometimes kissed her. Minnie could talk about her pash for Reverend Osborne; she had talked a dozen times about her pash for one boy or another. Charlotte daren't mention her emotions concerning Daniel Osborne. They were exclusive to him, and deep, and totally hopeless. For he was going away that summer. He was a Methodist traveling preacher, and they would never see him again. She was close to crying over that every day, and she did cry the first time one of her friends played James Kerrigan's new song, "Bright Mohawk Valley." She took the sheet and read the words until they burned into her mind. "There is a new song out about our valley," she told her father. "Can we buy it?" "Maybe some time. Let's see how we stand after harvest." "Now. Please, please." "You have more than enough piano music," her mother said. "If you have to play more songs, learn some more from the hymnal." "I know many hymns already. I played for the church when Mrs. Deetman couldn't." "And we were proud of her, Charles," her mother said suddenly. "Could we afford the new sheet music now?" "If both of you are determined." The lyrics were every bit as appropriate as she had thought it was, and every bit as sad. "From this valley, they say you are going," she sang when her chores were done. "I shall miss your bright eyes and sweet smile." Then she cried. "Crying when you are singing ruins your voice," her father said suddenly. She hadn't heard him come in, but dusk was showing outside the windows. "Train yourself to sing without crying." How she could sing that song without crying, she couldn't imagine. Only her brother, Will, helped her father with plowing, but all of them worked the land during planting season. Once the potatoes were safely in the ground, Charlotte's chores included hoeing and weeding. She had less time to practice the piano, but she took what time she could to practice singing "Bright Mohawk Valley" without crying. Reverend Osborne's time was coming to an end. "One more Sunday between this one and Annual Conference," he told her while her family waited in the buggy after church. "I want the last youth fellowship to be something special. Can you think of a favorite song for each of your friends?" She felt daring. "Or maybe one song for Margaret and George." He laughed. "That's a wedding my successor will perform. You know, being a minister provides many pleasures, aside from serving the Lord. But it provides sorrows as well. Every year, a minister leaves people he cares about dearly. It is even worse on his family." It was no easier on the congregation, either. She would never see him again. She took the bit in her teeth. "Next week will be special for everybody. Could I play a special song tonight?" "If you wish. A hymn?" "A popular song." She took the sheet music for "Bright Mohawk Valley" with her to the parsonage. Even though they knew the next week would be special, all the young people were in attendance. They sang hymns and then popular songs. "The last song," Reverend Osborne announced, "is 'Auld Lang Syne.' Before that, Charlotte has a song. Do we sing along, or is this a solo?" "A solo, if I may." "You may." She fumbled the music onto the piano and blushed, but it was too late for second thoughts. "From this valley, they say you are going," she sang, "We will miss your bright eyes and sweet smile...." She managed to keep any sob out of her voice, but she was afraid to turn around at the end because she could feel the tears on her cheeks. "Well," Reverend Osborne said, "Charlotte and I have something to discuss. Peter, could you drop Will and Sarah at their house on the way to yours?" "Yessir." Nobody mentioned "Auld Lang Syne." Everybody went out. "Charlotte," he said. "Reverend Osborne." Now her voice did show that she was crying. "'Dan,' please." "Dan," she sobbed. She had dreamed of calling him "Dan." "Please look at me." She turned around on the piano stool. He went down on his knees in front of her. "I think I told you that the life of a minister's family has difficulties. They leave friends every year, and the minister's wife learns that the women in the church all know precisely how she should act -- sometimes different groups of women know she should act in contradictory ways. "So I'm asking you to take on a hard task, but...." "But?" Did he mean what she thought he meant? "But would you marry me?" "Yes. Oh yes." He stood and lifted her into his arms. His kiss was every bit as exciting as she had dreamed it would be. His hug was even more exciting. He stepped back from her sometime afterwards. "We should tell your parents," he said. He drove the buggy back. She sat beside him looking totally proper, but her mind was churning from memories of the kiss. "Reverend Osborne," her mother greeted him as they walked in the kitchen. "Charles, Bertha," he began. "Just a moment Reverend," her mother said. "Will, go up to bed." "But...." said Will. "Now!" said her father. Will scooted upstairs. He'd be listening by the grillwork which let hot air from the kitchen warm the rooms. Charlotte had done that often enough. "Charles, Bertha," Dan began again. "I have asked Charlotte to do me the honor of becoming my wife." "Are you sure," her father asked, "that the asking went in that direction?" Charlotte was shocked; nobody else seemed to be. "I am quite sure," Dan responded. "However, she has done me the signal honor of accepting." "When do you two plan to have the wedding?" her mother asked. "We haven't progressed to that question. I must, however, go to annual conference in a little more than a week. After that I will go to a new church. I will prepare a place for her there, and return for the wedding." "There is no hurry, then?" her father asked. "Well," Charlotte said. "I am in a hurry." "I am, too," Dan said. "But there are constraints. I expect the bishop will want to perform the service. If he isn't able, then the new preacher here will do that. But I would like to give the bishop the opportunity. That means letting him set the schedule. I'm sorry; but, as I told Charlotte, being a preacher's wife means letting others set your schedule." "That," her father said, "is fine." "Charles," her mother said, "would you drive the preacher back?" "I can walk," Dan said. "If you did," her father said, "I would hear about it for a year, and not only from Bertha. Come out with us Charlotte, and wave us good bye." On the porch, he continued, "Excuse me for a moment." He disappeared in the direction of the outhouse. Dan swept her into another kiss. It was exciting as before, but they were merely holding hands when they heard the outhouse door slam open. The sound surprised Charlotte, because the only time she had heard a similar sound was when there was a high wind from the West. The wind that night was slight and, if anything, from the northeast. When she had waved them good bye, her mother was standing on the porch beside her. "Come with me," she said. They walked out to a fence and sat on the bottom rail side by side. "I don't want Will and the others overhearing this." Then she laid out the duties of a wife. Charlotte wasn't totally innocent. She had seen animals, after all, and she knew about girls who had needed to get married. "Anyway," her mother finished, "you might think it strange, at first. But it grows pleasant later. And it is part of being a wife, part of being a woman." "Very well, mother, I will do my duty." Actually, if the kisses were part of it, she thought that it might grow pleasant quite soon. Not soon enough, of course. The wedding would be months away. "Would Charlotte Larson come forward," Dan said at the end of the service Sunday. When she did, "I want you all to know that Charlotte has done me the honor of accepting my proposal of matrimony. I thought that I would never see any of your faces again, but -- God willing -- I shall see most of you one more time. And I shall see Charlotte as long as we both shall live." He took the train out the next day, and kissed her in broad daylight on the platform in front of a dozen people. She had that memory for the next months, that memory and a few letters. But she didn't have time to moon over either. She was busy on the farm by day and finishing off her trousseau by lamplight. Dan's new church was way over in Cortland. He wrote a full description of the parsonage. The wedding was scheduled for after the harvest. Finally, the day arrived. Dan came on the Tuesday night train and lodged with the Browns. She would not see him until the evening wedding. The bishop arrived Wednesday morning; Reverend Springer, the new preacher, put him up in the parsonage. The wedding was lovely, and Dan spoke his vows with a strong voice. She choked hers out through tears. Her mother was crying worse than she was. "You may," the bishop finally said, "kiss the bride." This kiss was even more thrilling than the previous ones had been. When Mrs. Deetman came to congratulate them afterward, Dan fished in his pocket. "I want to thank you for your fine playing," he said and held out a five-dollar gold piece. "The charge," Mrs. Deetman said, "is the same as the charge for Sarah's funeral." She put her hands behind her back. "Funerals are different," Dan said. "I charge for performing weddings." "Sarah would come back from her grave to haunt me if I charged for playing at Lottie's wedding." When Dan put the coin back in his pocket, Mrs. Deetman hugged Charlotte. "You were not supposed to deal with the congregation after I was appointed," Reverend Springer said. "And here I am taking the loveliest one away." Dan laughed with Reverend Springer. Then she and Dan had to hurry to the train station. The trip took all night, including an hour waiting for the connection. Dan asked her about her summer for the first part of the trip, but -- when she ran out -- he soon fell asleep. They had breakfast on the train while it was still moving. This felt strange to Charlotte, but Dan and the other passengers seemed to accept it as normal. When they got to Cortland, a Mr. Ward, one of Dan's new parishioners, was waiting for them with a cart. He and Dan loaded it with Dan's valise and her trunks. The seat was crowded with three in it. She was more and more conscious of Dan's body next to hers. Her mother's description of the behavior of married men had sounded delightful when she'd heard it, and she had wished that it could have been sooner. Now, with it approaching at the same pace that they approached the parsonage, she was apprehensive. Mr. Ward helped Dan carry her trunks up the stairs to a room. It was the room, the bedroom, she and Dan would be occupying. "Thank you, Mr. Ward," she said. "You have been a great help." "You are welcome, Mrs. Osborne," Ward said. "And welcome to Cortland." Dan walked him to the door and gave his own thanks. When he came back upstairs, Charlotte blushed. Her mother had described the wedding night, but it had started with the couple in bed together. Would Dan undress her? Would he expect her to undress herself in front of him? Would he expect her to undress him? He began by kissing her. This was less exciting than the earlier kisses had been; she was too nervous. "I echo Ward. Welcome to Cortland. I could tell that you didn't sleep well on the train. Why don't you get some rest? There is bread and ham in the kitchen, but we are invited to a supper this evening. I will come back for you before then." She did go to bed, a luxurious, wide, bed with a feather mattress. This reminded her of periods of sickness when she had been younger. Only when she was very ill did her mother allow her to sleep in broad daylight. She unpacked much of one trunk, and remade the bed with the fancy sheets and pillow cases she had embroidered herself. Two pillow cases, the thought was somehow exciting. She explored the house. Much of the upstairs was empty. All the utensils in the kitchen were in different places than where her mother kept them, and they were fewer. Well, she had brought some in the other trunk. Her nervousness had disappeared during her sleep, and Dan's kiss after he came home was much more exciting. The supper was both to welcome her to the church and to celebrate their marriage. There was something of the teasing that she had overheard directed at other newly-married couples, but it was a church group; everyone was quite discreet. The evening broke up early. "I have to open the store at dawn," said one of the guests. "And you can go right to sleep," another responded. The company chuckled, and then laughed harder at seeing her blush. When she and Dan had got back to the parsonage, he lit the gas lamp in their bedroom. She had never seen one inside a home before. Even the stores in Oriskany did not have gas yet. Dan kissed her again. "Why don't you change in here?" he asked. "I'll use the room across the hall." She did as he suggested, and remained standing until she heard a discreet knock on the door. It was his room, after all. Still, she was grateful; what if she had not finished changing yet? She opened the door for him, and he looked at her in her newly embroidered linen nightgown. He was wearing a plain cotton nightshirt. "Very lovely," he said. "The gown, and the woman. You were always lovely, of course; but you look even lovelier this way." She hid her blushes in his hug, and then blushed more. With only two layers of soft cloth between them, she felt every inch of his body against hers. Her breasts pressed against his chest, and she felt against her belly the organ her mother had talked about. He led her over to the bed and helped her in. When he lay down beside her, he kissed her again. This kiss seemed to go on forever. Meanwhile, his hand caressed down her left arm. When he did leave her mouth, he kissed her forehead and eyebrows lightly. When their mouths met again, his hand moved to her breast. His kisses trailed down from her mouth to her neck. She had only thought that his earlier kisses were exciting; these were bliss. Then he was kissing her through the cloth of her nightgown. "This is so lovely," he said. "We don't want to spoil it, do we?" "No." "Maybe you should take it off." Well, they were married. She sat up and removed the gown. Then she burrowed under the covers, hiding herself. He kissed her again, kissed her mouth, really, since she was discovering that he could kiss her other places. This time the trail of kisses led down her neck to her breast. "Oh, Lottie," he said. "Oh, Charlotte!" There was nothing between his hand and her skin as he stroked down her side and leg. When his hand returned upward, it stroked the inside parts of her legs. This tickled; it embarrassed her; it also excited her. Then he sucked at her nipple just as his hand reached the juncture of her thighs. Nobody had ever touched her there; she had rarely touched herself there. He kissed her left breast, soon concentrating on her nipple. Competing with her excitement was a worry. She could feel dampness, as though she had wet herself, less than an inch from his hand. When his fingers parted her lower lips, touching that dampness, she feared some expression of disgust from Dan. Instead, he said "Oh Charlotte!" He stroked her there while kissing and sucking on her breast. Worry lessened, she concentrated on the new sensations. They were getting better and better when he suddenly stopped sucking on her breast. He need not stop, but she could never say that. He kissed a path down her left breast and up her right to that nipple. When he sucked there, he resumed the gentle strokes of his fingers between her lower lips. That was a delight. She was too embarrassed to say so, but she felt herself clasping his head against her breast. Then the sensations, delightful as they had been, became more delightful. The feelings spread warmth through her, and she pressed down with arms and legs to raise her body toward Dan's caresses. She luxuriated in the glory of those feelings. Until the warmth turned to fire and the glory into agony. She gasped as every muscle tightened into a knot. For some unmeasurable period of time, all these sensations pulsed within her. As suddenly as the tightness had come, it left. She collapsed into the bed, unable to move except for her gasping lungs. Dan let her rest there, and she was vaguely aware that he was sitting up beside her and removing his own nightshirt. Then he lay back down beside her and kissed her shoulder. They touched in only a few places, but she was acutely aware that those touches were skin to skin. After a little while, he asked, "Are you all right?" All right? She felt better than she had ever felt before. "Yes." He said nothing else, but he moved over her and between her legs. This was what her mother had told her about. His hand went back between her legs and spread her lower lips. "This might hurt," he said. That's what her mother had told her. "Yes." She braced herself. She felt more touches on those lips, and some of the touches remained when his hand moved away. He kissed her mouth, quite gently. Then she felt him press against her and into her down there. "Charlotte!" he said. There was a brief pain, and he was sliding into her. "Are you all right?" he asked again. "Yes." She had hurt worse. "Tell me when you are ready for me to move." Move? But she was ready for anything now. "I'm ready." He moved inside her as well as above her. She still felt discomfort, if not actual pain. He moved back and forth more rapidly. Then the strangest expression crossed his face. He pushed into her more deeply, and more forcefully. Then she felt a throbbing where they were joined. A moment later, he was lying on her and gasping in her ear. She put her arms around him. The weight was comforting while it was uncomfortable. Soon, though, he moved off her to lie beside her. He hugged her, and they touched everywhere. "I am sorry that I had to hurt you," he said. "The hurt was small compared to the joy of being married to you." Indeed, she would trade it for lying next to his warm skin any day. She awoke still naked, still next to a naked man. And his organ was pressing against her side. "Good morning, Charlotte," Dan said. "A very good morning, Mrs. Osborne." Feeling strange to be naked in front of him, she rose and dressed rapidly. Of course, dressing in front of him also gave her a strange feeling. She made a fire in the kitchen stove and cooked breakfast. There was only one egg left when she had finished. Dan heated water on the stove for his shave. She enjoyed watching him shave, remembering watching her father when she was little. He gave her some coins, and she went shopping after breakfast. Large as the town was, people seemed to know who she was. She spent the next few days settling into her new kitchen and her new life. Friday and Saturday, different families invited them to supper. Supper seemed to be a heavier meal than dinner in Cortland. She was both a new bride, welcomed into the circle of married women by those more experienced, and the preacher's wife. She'd seen many women perform in that role. She found herself imitating the ones whom she had regarded as doing the best job. At least, coming into the church after Sunday School classes and Women's Society of Christian Service offices were filled, she wasn't expected to take any of those responsibilities. Sunday, she sat in a front pew and listened to Dan's sermon. Afterwards, he was appreciative of the full dinner she had cooked. It was the first dinner in their new home. The members of the church had been hospitable, but it was nice to be by themselves. They walked around the town after dinner. Everybody seemed to be out, either on foot like them, or driving in carriages. Most of the men were smoking cigars. When they returned, Dan kissed her. One tiny part of her pleasure was thinking how much better the taste of his kisses must be than those received by the wives of the smokers. Supper was light, and afterwards they sang some songs together. As the room darkened, she expected Dan to light the gas lamp. She was still nervous about doing so. Instead he yawned. "Are you ready for bed?" he asked. "Certainly." Actually, it was early even for a farmer. Upstairs, he began to undress in the room. She was hesitant. "We are married," he said. And so they were, but she was unused to that condition. She changed into a plain nightgown and they knelt across the bed from one another. After their prayers, they got into their own sides of the bed. Dan leaned over to kiss her. As the kiss went on and on, she realized that sleepiness hadn't been his reason for going to bed so early. The thought excited her as much as his kiss did. Soon, the caresses of his hand were more exciting yet. "Raise yourself," he said suddenly. When she did, he moved the hem of her nightgown up nearly to her armpits. His hands were all over her body, concentrating on her breasts. Then his hand surrendered her left breast to his lips. "Oh, Lottie," he said before resuming his sucking. Although his mouth was gentle on her, she felt like she were burning under it. The fire spread lower into her belly. When his hand stroked down her torso, it was almost as if it were following the fire. His hand went where even her hand only went when she was wiping herself. For a moment, that embarrassed her, but the sensations were too pleasant. And, as he had said, they were married. Then the fire burned hotter and she forgot all about embarrassment. She even missed his caresses when his hand and his mouth left her at the same time. But then he was kneeling between her legs. He kissed her lightly on the lips while his hand felt her and placed his organ. She braced herself, but there was no pain as he slid smoothly into her. "Oh, Lottie," he said again before kissing her forehead. His motions were right where the fire had been, right where it kindled again. Soon, he was moving faster and she was moving against him. When he drove forward, she pressed upward; when he moved back, she sank down. Somehow, her body knew to do that without her mind having the least idea why. And then the fire burned more fiercely yet. "Oh!" she said as her feelings exploded. She wrapped her arms around Dan, who was moving more rapidly and more forcefully than ever. He pressed her down in the feather bed and went all rigid in her arms. Then she could feel him pulsing deep within her. He relaxed, lying heavy on her. "Darling," he said, "darling Charlotte, darling wife." A minute later, he moved off and lay beside her. That made breathing easier, but she missed his weight. Then he wrapped an arm around her. That gave the closeness without interfering with her breathing. When her mother had told her that it grew pleasant later, Charlotte hadn't anticipated this much pleasure, nor this soon. She was glad she had married Dan. "Mrs. Osborne," she said suddenly. "Hmm?" Dan asked. "Mrs. Osborne. That's who I am. I'm happy to be Mrs. Osborne." "Well, I am happy that you are Mrs. Osborne, too." |
The End Charlotte 1883 Uther Pendragon anon584c@nyx.net 2004/05/29 Thanks to Denny for editing this. For another story of another couple starting Married life in another century: "Oh Canada" This story is indexed under: WL, wedded lust The index to almost all my stories is: Index to Uther Pendragon's website |