The car ride from the hospital was quiet. James was a man of few words, which suited me fine, as I was too anxious at the moment to hold a conversation anyway. I watched through the car's passenger window as the sun began it's descent across the western sky. It was almost nighttime. I chewed the inside of my jaw nervously as I comprehended what that means.

Trying to keep my apprehensive thoughts at bay, I observed James through my peripherals, taking in his features and trying to decipher who my new husband really was. The man was at least ten years my elder, but I wasn't fazed by this realization. Age differences weren't an uncommon occurrence in a binding ceremony. I cringed as I remembered the couples I'd seen walking the streets of Grayson, the man wrinkled and gray, perhaps using a cane or sporting a wheelchair, with a woman on his arm the same age as I was now. James being in his late twenties was nothing in comparison.

The silence stretched on as we ventured to a part of Grayson I had never been to before, the houses growing increasingly larger the further we drove. My family wasn't poor, but we were middle class at best. We would have never been able to afford a house on the east side of town where the wealthy flocked together like birds. But it appeared that my husband was of a higher affluence than my parents were and could accommodate such a luxury. Most girls would probably be impressed by this, but it didn't matter to me if I lived in a mansion or a shoebox as long as my husband was kind.

James turned off of the main road and onto a small drive with an ironclad gate. He punched a sequence of numbers into the keypad and the door swung open, allowing us to enter. As the gate creaked shut behind us, I was overcome with an ominous feeling of imprisonment. I tried to brush it off as tension about the things to come.

We drove up a small road that twisted and turned through a backroad, fresh spring foliage sprouting on either side of the road. Ancient trees hovered high overhead, thick bunches of flowers cushioned delicately between the massive trunks. It would have been a beautiful and scenic drive, had it not been for the sense of claustrophobia the towering plants created.

A few minutes later, the car pulled into the cobblestone driveway of a massive home. It was far larger than any building I had ever set foot in before, and I had to bite my inner jaw to prevent my mouth from falling open in shock. The closer we drove, the larger the house became. It could easily fit ten of my childhood homes inside with room to spare.

The home was constructed of red brick with a large chimney on one side of the building, and a turret extending into the air on the other side. I gaped at the fixture, having only pictured such things in storybooks.

In the front yard, the Grayson flag flew high and proud. I stared at the red and blue striped fabric, the large white cross centered in the middle. The flag represented all that I detested about Grayson, the way we blindly followed Zachariah's teachings without hesitation. The small square of fabric was the epitome of a perfect Grayson citizen and all that they embody. Seeing it flying in James' yard- in my yard- made me even more hesitant of James than I already was.

Beyond the large house was a yard of rolling green hills that stretched for as far as the eye could see, interrupted only by a reddish brown barn, a large cement fountain that propelled water high into the air, and row after row of apple and cherry trees. Farmyard animals foraged in the distance, but they were just small dots on the horizon, too far away for me to make out what sort of animal they were.

As I gaped at the massive lawn, James put the car in park. He walked around the car and opened my door, leaning down to offer me his hand. I smiled and murmured a quiet "thank you", hoping his show of mannerism was a good sign of things to come.

I climbed out of the car, stifling a gasp as the pain from my surgeries made an appearance. I ground my teeth to muffle my yelp, not wanting James to think I was weak, but all the while I was quietly contemplating the best way to ask him for one of the pain pills Dr. Winthrop had given him.

We walked up the large, slate steps leading to the front porch, then into the house. The daunting oak door gave way to an enormous foyer, complete with elegant marble floors that were so shiny, I could see my shoes in their reflection. The walls were covered with gold foil wallpaper, and crystal vases sat on every table and shelf, filled with fresh flowers. I felt like I was a child in a store of breakables, terrified to touch anything for fear of shattering it.

The entryway was vast, extending all the way to the third floor, where an oversized empire chandelier hung from the ceiling. My eyes blurred from the intensity of the crystals as they sparkled in the setting sun, reflecting the pink and purple hues from the enormous bay windows on either side of the front door.

When I blinked the bright orbs from my eyes, I was startled to see that several people had appeared from some hidden location. They stood before me in a uniform line, greeting me with small smiles.

"Mrs. Moberly, this is house staff," James said, pointing toward the group. "Stephen is our driver and will take you to and from town when needed." The middle-aged man gave a curt nod. "And Caleb here takes care of the grounds and tends to the horses." The young, light-haired man smiled politely.

Horses! I thought to myself. I'd always wanted a horse as a little girl.

"And this is our maid and cook, who will be at your service when needed," James said, pointing to the young red-headed women at the end of the line.

Her dark cloak and the small red "x" branded onto her cheek were clear indicators that she was a No Name woman. She didn't say anything and refused to make eye contact- the epitome of subservient behavior- but she gave a slight bow of acknowledgement when James motioned toward her.

"Err, hello," I mumbled, feeling a blush creep into my cheeks.

The idea of someone waiting on me made me slightly uncomfortable. I was perfectly capable of cooking my own meals or cleaning my own home, though looking at the sheer size of the place, it might not hurt to have another set of hands. Still, I felt guilty knowing this woman's sole purpose in life was to tend to my needs. I made a silent vow never to ask her for help.

After telling the house staff a quick hello, James gave me a tour of my new home. It was so spacious that it took nearly an hour just to reach each section of the house, and I quickly found myself disoriented as we traveled from room to room, and floor to floor.

"These will be your quarters," James said when we reached the final wing of the house. He opened the door to reveal a moderately sized bedroom with a thick, cushiony bed and a sitting area in the corner next to the window. "Occasionally I will ask you to spend the night in my bed, but any other time, you will remain here unless I request your presence."

I was quiet as I walked into the room, unsure what to say. I had assumed once we were bound, I would be sharing my bed with my husband each night. Though it was unorthodox, a part of me was grateful that I would have space to call my own, even if it was just on occasion.

"I'll give you a few minutes alone. I'm sure you'll want to clean up after the hospital," James said, shuffling his feet. "Meet me in my bedroom in fifteen minutes."

I nodded and James left the room. The moment the door closed behind him, I started hyperventilating. Growing up I had always heard the horror tales of your consummation- about how some men had no regard for you or the pain they inflicted upon you during your first time. About how you just had to lie there, submissive, as your husband did his bidding with your body, biting back any discomfort because a good wife never complained or questioned her husband.

The notion increased my trepidations and I soon found myself huddled on the floor in tears, terrified of what the night might bring. Sweat formed on my forehead and soaked into my hair, dripping down my back. My stomach did nervous flips, and I prayed that I wouldn't be sick.

The minutes ticked by, counting down like the timer on a bomb that was set to explode. Finally, when it was almost time for me to meet James, I climbed to my feet and went into my private bathroom to splash cool water on my face to wash away the tears.

"Get it together, Mia," I muttered, looking at my new face in the mirror. "You're a married woman now. Time to grow up."

With a deep breath, I walked into the main corridor and wandered down the hallway in search of the master bedroom. The house was so large and there were so many passageways leading in different direction that I soon found myself disoriented.

"Mrs. Moberly?" a soft voice asked.

I started, turning to see the No Name woman standing behind me with a load of laundry in her arms. It took me a full minute to realize she was speaking to me.

Mrs. Moberly, I repeated the name in my mind, unsure how I felt about it.

"Are you okay?" the woman asked with furrowed brows.

I honestly wasn't sure.

"I'm sorry, but I'm not sure where I'm at," I admitted, gesturing to the massive hallway with a dozen doors. "I'm trying to find Mr. Moberly's bedroom."

My voice shook with panic. Getting so disoriented had made me late, and that was sure to set a bad precedent my first night of married life.

"Come with me, ma'am," the woman said, setting down the laundry basket.

She led me through three different hallways and down a flight of stairs before we finally reached the large mahogany doors of the master bedroom.

"Thank you," I said with a sigh of relief. I would have never found my way without her.

"My pleasure," she said with a small nod. She hesitated, her face apologetic, her mouth opening and closing as though she wanted to say something. Then, with a small shake of her head, the No Name woman was gone, disappearing down one of the many dark corridors as quietly as she had appeared.

Odd, I thought to myself. But I didn't have time to dwell on her peculiar behavior. Not when I had already wasted so much time trying to find James' room. I took a deep breath to steady myself and knocked on the massive bedroom door three times.

"Enter," a deep voice said from the other side of the thick wood.

I turned the large brass knob and treaded lightly into the oversized bedroom. When I closed the door behind me, it made an intimidating boom that caused me to jump. I walked further into the dim chamber, eyes twitchy and my heart thrashing like I was being hunted by a serial killer.

The large windows were drawn with thick lace curtains, and a small fire crackled in the stone fireplace, doing little to illuminate the room. Even in the darkness, I couldn't miss the oversized four poster bed sitting dauntingly in the corner of the room, a reminder of what was about to transpire. I glanced away, refusing to linger on the walnut frame for fear of coming undone. I needed to be strong now more than ever, despite the foreboding knots in my stomach.

"Good evening, Mrs. Moberly," I heard a deep voice say from the shadows of the room. Mr. Moberly walked into the light, his face serious. "Are you ready to spend our wedding night together?"

"Yes," I lied.

There was no point in telling him that I didn't want to do this, or that it felt wrong to be with him in this way. Our consummation was unavoidable, something that was expected of me now that I was a wife. I would do what I needed to do to avoid being banished from his home.

James motioned me forward with his index finger, and I came to stand beside the ominous bed, chewing the inside of my jaw to keep from crying. I unbuttoned my wedding dress with shaking fingers and allowed it to fall to the floor, stripping down to the sheer slip underneath. James eyed me slowly from head to toe, his face full of a primal hunger as he took in my body. I had to fight the urge to cover myself from his invasive stare, but managed to keep my arms firmly by my side.

James came closer, his heavy footsteps against the hardwood matching the thumping of my heart. He placed his hands on my shoulders and pushed me gently onto the duvet as he towered over me. He hiked my slip above my waist and I leaned back on the bed, staring at the delicately patterned ceiling above me as I yearned to be anywhere else but there. I rarely prayed, but at that moment, as I gazed at the heavens above me, I found myself pleading that it wouldn't hurt, that I would be okay, that it would be over before I knew it.

The next thing I knew, James was inside me. The sharp pain in my groin was almost too much to bear as he took my innocence. I fought the urge to pull away from the ache, reminding myself that it was against the law for a woman to deny this of her husband.

My hands balled into fists, gripping the bedding as I tried to focus on breathing through the discomfort. I closed my eyes tightly, vaguely aware of a small tear slipping down my cheek as I counted down the minutes until James was finished.

Thank you for reading! What does everyone think about Mia's new home and life? What about her horrible wedding night? Don't forget to vote if you're enjoying the story so far! :)