She nodded and scurried away.
Meanwhile, the couples made their way to the dining room; darkly papered
and with a heavy, brooding fireplace, but lightened by a cheerfully glowing chandelier and a table set in a crisp white cloth. Miss Marsden had arrived ahead
of them and was setting two more blue and white plates along one side of the table as each husband escorted his wife to a simple, wooden chair.
A lovely smelling tureen filled with soup perfectly started the meal. Katerina
was so hungry she ate surprisingly well, and as she did, it struck her how unusual it was for her to have such an appetite.
Normally, she picked at her food, since dining with her father inevitably proved to be a stressful experience. As the wine flowed freely, weakening his already precarious control, the danger increased. Taking the time to savor a meal
had always been unthinkable. She could not remember a time when she had; instead, she tended to gobble just enough to stave off starvation and then bolt for
the marginal safety of her bedroom.
The Bennetts' dinner table felt almost as nerve-wracking; however, trying to
heal from her wounds, along with the turmoil of the hurried wedding and
physical exertion of her first sexual experience, she could not deny her appetite.
As she sat at the table, trying to make herself chew slowly and not devour her dinner, she realized the pain in her backside had significantly decreased.
Thank heaven. Bruises heal faster than cuts but sitting on them is deeplyunpleasant.
Her internal soreness was fading as well and was quickly being replaced by a
hint of curiosity. Those were the most interesting touches I've ever experienced.
Pleasant, even, most of them. I'd like to know more. He had mentioned having her on her back, and she imagined what it would be like, lying open under her
husband's body as he thrust inside her. The thought made her cheeks warm with
a combination of embarrassment and arousal. To cover it, she took a sip of wine.
She didn't say a word during the soup, nor the succulent beef roast that followed, but afterwards, Julia bounced from her seat, took Katerina's arm and
hurried her into the parlor for a cup of tea and some serious conversation.
Christopher and his father remained at the table for glasses of port.
“What have you done, son?” Adrian asked without preamble, his voice grim
with concern.
“What I had to do,” Christopher replied.
“Why did you have to?” Adrian pressed.
Christopher shook his head. “There was no choice. She might not have
survived another beating. The one she endured was bad enough, and it wasn't the
first by any means.”
“I know. Do you really think such a terribly abused woman is going to be a
satisfying wife?”
Father knows how to ask the difficult questions, Christopher thought . He responded with one of his own. “Do you really think I would be able to live with myself if she were murdered because I didn't act when I had the chance? Listen,
Father, I know what you mean, but she wants to heal. She has promised to try.
Do you think there is no hope?”
Adrian shook his head. “Hard to say. She's young. Hopefully, her fearfulness
is not set into her for life. Perhaps she can overcome it in time, with your help.”
Christopher nodded once. “That's my wish. I'm willing to work through this
with her.”
Adrian closed his eyes and pinched the bridge of his nose between two
