This scene was a bit too different in length and tone to fit in with the other honeymoon vignettes, so I've posted it as a standalone chapter. Chronologically, the following scene takes place between the fifth and sixth vignettes in the previous chapter.

XXX

As the librarian and the music professor were to discover, not even couples in their first flushes of marital bliss were immune from the occasional upset. Yet in this case, their discord did not arise from a difference of opinion, but rather from a series of innocent misunderstandings.

It began when Harold, in his haste to make love to his wife before they were late for their post-wedding brunch, ended up tearing Marian's drawers as he rushed to remove them. To compound this indelicacy, alacrity inflamed his desire so much that his eager mouth ended up leaving behind a small but distinctly visible mark in the crook of her neck. Despite her carnal inexperience, Marian was not perturbed by either of these occurrences, and heartily assured her husband of this when he made profuse apologies for his less than careful handling of her person. For one, her drawers were ripped right up the seam, something that was easily fixable and could have happened just from regular wear and tear alone. As for the love-bite, it was late fall, so no one need see her bare neck but her husband. And the librarian found it quite thrilling to be ravished in such a passionate manner by the man she deeply loved and longed for. Not, of course, that she would have been so bold as to tell Harold this.

That was her first mistake.

Unsurprisingly, the brunch took up much more of the newly married pair's day than they would have preferred. At least, Marian felt that way – and she thought that Harold did, too. Because even though they were drawn apart by their respective circles – Marian by Mrs. Shinn and her ladies and Harold by Marcellus Washburn and the men – the music professor's gaze never wandered far from his wife. Marian, who was still far too elated by their early-morning tryst than she felt was proper even for a new bride, could not spare her husband more than the occasional sidelong glance as she struggled to maintain some semblance of equanimity. For even just thinking about being in Harold's arms caused her to fall into the most delicious of daydreams and hopelessly lose the thread of the conversation.

As this brunch was partly in Marian's honor and she was often the center of attention, her befuddlement was quite the noticeable faux pas. However, the ladies of the Events Committee were uncommonly patient with her, their smiles never fading no matter how little she'd grasped of the topic at hand. If anything, they looked upon her dazed demeanor with amiable understanding. The librarian reflected that such unusual sensitivity likely arose from their own nostalgia – after all, each of the ladies must have experienced similar afflictions of rapt dreaminess during their own honeymoons, when they discovered for themselves the joys of connubial bliss.

Yet Marian was also certain that once she and her husband returned home, there would be some dissection of her demeanor and, even though it wasn't likely to be malicious, the idea of her private matters being discussed in such a sordid manner irked her. It was bad enough that her own mother was regarding her with a beaming grin that was all at once proud, congratulatory – and smugly knowing! So in the interest of not exposing herself to too much gossip, the librarian did not allow her eyes to meet Harold's too often or overlong – especially as he wasn't bothering to conceal the intensity of feeling radiating from his own countenance as he looked at her.

That was her second mistake. Later, Marian would reflect that if she had paid closer attention to her husband, she would have noticed that the besotted desire in his expression was gradually being replaced by pensive uncertainty.

But the librarian did not observe Harold's oddly subdued mood even when they were finally able to go home late in the afternoon. Although her husband held her hand as they walked, he was much quieter than usual, and his expression, though nonchalant, lacked its usual cheerful brilliance. Yet he seemed to share her anticipation to return to the charming Victorian, and charted a brisk pace for the two of them down River City's streets. Heedless that anything was amiss, Marian enthusiastically kept up, recalling the heated promise Harold had whispered in her ear that morning as she was putting the finishing touches on her chignon and he was tying his bowtie…

But when they were safely ensconced behind closed doors once more, Harold helped her out of her coat as carefully and politely as if they were still in public – though he did make a rather grouchy remark about certain River City-ziens being too obtuse to understand why a man and his wife might not welcome a social obligation only two days into their honeymoon. Marian laughed and sympathized, although duty also led her to point out that it was an invitation they could not have refused, especially since the Events Committee had generously paid for a good deal of their wedding.

At Marian's mirth, Harold relaxed enough to pull her into his arms. But he simply held her and didn't try to make additional advances, not even when Marian nestled closer and brushed his hips lightly with hers – almost as if by accident. At her coy but brazen hint, he flinched and stepped back from their embrace and, in her embarrassment, so did she. While the librarian was used to being unsure of herself when it came to expressing physical affection, Harold's being awkward in return made her mortification unbearable. In her distress and confusion, the librarian found herself retreating to her usual mode of response whenever something unsettled her. Drawing herself up to her full height and adopting an expression of impeccable poise, she coolly suggested, "Shall we read in the parlor for a little while? I'm not hungry for supper – but I'd be happy to prepare something for you, if you'd like."

For a brief moment, Harold's eyes flashed with so many emotions – disappointment, regret, longing, irritation – that he was quite inscrutable to Marian. But then he gave his wife a conciliatory smile. "I'm not hungry, either – reading in the parlor suits me just fine."

So husband and wife did just that. Although they'd contentedly passed the previous evening similarly occupied, the atmosphere was much different between them tonight. So much so that Marian had to repress a nervous giggle as she pretended to be absorbed in perusing Pride and Prejudice. Little did any of the River City-ziens suspect – least of all her – that the music professor and the librarian would be engaged in such a prim and unromantic activity on the third night of their honeymoon! But the librarian's amusement was soon replaced by annoyance – why was Harold being so inexplicably distant? He'd looked at her with unabashed yearning all day; he ought to be making passionate love to her, now that they were alone again. Something was preventing him from acting upon his usual carnal inclinations, and Marian wasn't sure what it was. Did their first time displaying themselves to the public as husband and wife unnerve him too much? Perhaps it had been too early for Harold to leave their cozy dream-bubble of a honeymoon; perhaps the Events Committee's enforced brunch was too jarring a reminder of the entirely of what he'd committed himself to, and at a crucial juncture when he wanted nothing more than to revel in their long-awaited, heated rendezvous between the sheets…

Or perhaps she was simply worrying too much. Barely fifteen minutes had gone by when Harold closed Great Expectations with a decisive snap, stood up from his chair, and suggested they retire for the night. Although neither his voice nor his expression was lascivious, Marian felt relief flood through her. It was only six o'clock – far too early for even the primmest of people to go to sleep – so it seemed he was planning to make good on his promise, after all. In her growing frustration, the librarian had actually been pondering the possibility of initiating their prelude herself, but such forthrightness was still a bit too bold for her comfort. Thankfully, it was water under the bridge now. Harold had tenderly taken her by the arm and was now leading her up to their bedroom; all would be well again soon enough.

However, when they reached the landing at the top of the stairwell, the music professor tersely excused himself and headed to the washroom. A tad miffed by her husband's rather abrupt departure from her side, the librarian nevertheless continued down the hall and entered their bedroom by herself. Although it was only three days into their marriage, she reasoned it wasn't practical or even desirable for Harold to disrobe her every single evening. And as Marian retrieved a fresh nightgown from the armoire and slipped into it – she'd consigned the hopelessly wrinkled "Marie Antoinette" nightgown to the laundry basket that morning – she further reflected that seeing to her own evening ablutions was not necessarily a death knell for lovemaking. So without further ado, Marian reached into the armoire for her softest pair of flannel drawers, which she liked to wear beneath her nightgown in the colder months (in the summer, she donned cotton drawers instead) – and was struck by a sudden thought. Now that she was a married woman, she might want to consider putting aside such garments. After all, her nightgown was flannel and, despite its low, scalloped neckline, it should be cozy enough to keep her warm. And given Harold's propensity for passionate trysting, it would be a downright economical course of action for her to remove all extraneous clothing from the equation, saving both time and mending!

Thus decided, the librarian discarded her drawers and got into bed, feeling delightfully wicked as she waited for her husband to join her. But as the minutes passed, Marian once again grew uneasy – what was taking Harold so long to return from the washroom? The warmth of the blankets and softness of the mattress getting the better of her, she began to doze off. When Harold finally crawled into bed next to her, she immediately stirred and opened her eyes, but the impish smile she was planning to greet him with had been forgotten in the fog of slumber that now dulled her senses. As the librarian blinked at her husband in a drowsy daze, he leaned in and gave her a tender but chaste kiss before rolling over to go to sleep, himself.

At that, Marian's faculties fully returned to her, and she stared critically at Harold's back. Although his breathing was level, the stiffness in his bearing betrayed him; this was not a man who was about to settle into a long and cozy repose. If she hadn't fully realized it before, she knew it now: something was definitely the matter. And since Harold didn't seem inclined to broach the subject, she was going to have to open the discussion. The librarian's stomach flip-flopped unpleasantly at this notion. After their first wonderful night together as husband and wife, she'd happily and naively thought they'd passed the final hurdle to intimacy; now they were truly united in both body and spirit. But somehow, Marian was finding it much more nerve-wracking to pry into the music professor's affairs after they'd been so close, physically. Her stomach gave another disquieting lurch, as did her heart. If Harold was indeed having second thoughts about marrying her, she didn't know what she was going to do…

It was extremely tempting to leave the matter alone, to simply roll over and seek refuge in slumber. But such solutions would only be temporary and, in any case, Marian could no longer fall asleep tonight. The final matrimonial counsel her mother gave her on her wedding morning kept ringing in her ears:

"If you can help it, me girl, never go to bed with anything unresolved between you and your husband."

It was sound advice. Little did she know she'd be heeding it so soon! Marshaling her determination to bravely face whatever might come, Marian reached out, placed her hand squarely on her husband's back, and went right to the heart of the matter:

"Harold," she said softly, so her voice wouldn't tremble too much, "why haven't you made love to me this evening?"

Harold shifted around to face her, stunned. "You mean… you wanted me to?"

Likewise, Marian was flabbergasted – of all the responses she'd steeled herself for, this hadn't been one of them. "Of course!" she blurted, then blushed and lowered her gaze. But she forced herself to continue, "Why wouldn't I want my husband to make love to me… especially after the sweet words he whispered into my ear this morning?"

"Indeed… and my tearing your drawers and bruising your neck didn't give you second thoughts about that?" The normally bombastic music professor sounded skeptical… and ashamed.

At the phrase second thoughts, the librarian's eyes snapped back to her husband's. "Did I seem to you to have second thoughts?" She couldn't think where he'd gotten such a ludicrous idea; she certainly hadn't acted bothered that morning, not even in jest! In fact, before Harold had finished speaking, she'd let out a small moan and turned to meet his mouth with hers – and they subsequently lost several more crucial minutes they didn't have to spare before being dreadfully late to brunch.

What's more, Harold hadn't seemed troubled in the least about his behavior – when husband and wife finally let each other go, he caressed that love-bite on her neck and regarded his handiwork with a triumphant grin. And when they left the house, there was a definite strut in his step that only intensified as they neared the stately Shinn abode. Normally, Marian would have made some flirtatious but cutting remark to blunt her husband's display of such excessive smugness. However, the besotted look in his eyes when he gazed at her added such a gratifying dimension to his demeanor that the librarian could only beam at her cocksure husband in return; this was a man who took great pride not only in conquest, but also in the fact that he'd brought her great joy.

But this evening, the music professor's smoldering confidence had all but vanished. Harold looked searchingly at his wife, and then asked an earnest question of his own: "If you weren't bothered, then why could you hardly bring yourself to look at me all day?"

Before she could stop herself, Marian blushed furiously and lowered her eyes once more. "Oh – that," she said lamely, trying to think of how best to explain her behavior before deciding that complete honesty was the only way to go. "I wanted to look at you, but every time I so much as glanced your way, all I could think of was the things we'd done together. Then I'd turn warm and feverish right in front of all the ladies, and they'd smile knowingly at me – it was all so embarrassing! But you mustn't think I'm ashamed of loving you," she quickly added, still not able to look at Harold. "It's just that some feelings are too private – too sacred – to reveal to anyone but you."

"I understand, Marian," her husband said gently but wearily, slipping an arm around her waist and dropping a kiss on her forehead. "I really do – that's why, as difficult as it was to restrain myself, I left you alone this evening."

Marian felt a lump come into her throat – she had made a terrible mess of things, and only two days into their honeymoon! Fortunately, something had happened earlier that day that gave her just the opportunity she required to smooth things over with Harold. Swallowing both the lump and her maidenly modesty, she raised her eyes to her husband's. "Darling, remember how just as we were getting ready to return home, Ethel Toffelmier drew me aside for a private conference?" At Harold's nod, she continued. "Well, as you know, she's about to become a bride herself. And like any first-time bride, she's a bit nervous about her wedding night. So she asked me, very delicately, how I was finding married life."

"And what did you tell her?" Harold looked entranced, as if his whole heart was hanging on her response.

The crimson finally fading from her countenance, Marian raised a hand to cup her husband's cheek. "I told Ethel that knowing the fullness of love's joy was one of the most wonderful things in the world."

Harold pulled Marian to him, kissing every part of her face and neck he could reach. Soon his hands had found their way beneath her nightgown, tracing her thighs and stomach, desperately fumbling to untie the string of her drawers. When he finally realized she wasn't wearing any, he broke their kiss and gave his wife a bewildered grin.

The librarian blushed again, but only slightly. "I thought that from now on, it would be best for me to stop wearing pants to bed."

"You thought it would be best to make it easier for me to ravish you?" the music professor marveled, looking absolutely floored. He groaned and tightened his grip on her naked hips. "You really do want this… you want me… "

"Of course I want you," Marian averred, pressing against her husband as he pulled her even closer. "As I told you the first night we were together, I look forward to being your wife… and I anticipate, both eagerly and joyfully, being your wife in every sense of the word."

Harold was so flustered he stumbled in his speech. "Yes, but I need to be careful – there's so much you don't know – and I mustn't overwhelm you – " Yet he continued to pull her to him, pantomiming lovemaking out of sheer need. "As your husband, I can't just be your lover – I must be your friend and protector, as well – "

Marian lifted two fingers to his lips and gently silenced her rambling husband. "Harold, I may be a maid, but I'm not a delicate flower. I can't tell you how disappointed I was when you made no overtures once we came home – "

When her fingers slid aside to cup his cheek, Harold's mouth caught hers in a fervent kiss. "My dear little librarian," he gasped when they parted for air, "you have my solemn promise that I won't let you down the next time we come home from an outing that interrupts our honeymoon… "

Then his mouth was on Marian's again, and his hands were tugging her nightgown higher, and his bare leg was nudging itself between hers. Although there was no tearing of clothes or bruising of necks, they made love with the same passionate urgency as they had earlier – a heated tryst that left them panting and clinging to each other beneath tangled sheets until they finally collapsed into a sated slumber. And because husband and wife had fulfilled all their social obligations for the time being, they slept as late as they wanted to the next morning.