An Absent Wife (10 page)

“You would deserve it if I was,” he said, his voice low and coarse.  She wondered if he was affected by drink.  There were no visible signs, but it was the end of the evening.

“Are you?”

Turning from her, he placed a program he’d been holding on the dressing table.  “No,” he said after a lengthy pause.  “I don’t know.  The true answer is: I don’t know what to do with you.”

It was the first honest answer he’d ever given her.  It put her no closer to knowing what her future held, but it was something anyway.

“What do you think I should do with you?” he asked, looked back at her.  “An untrue wife.  An adulteress.”

“Oh please,” she said with anger.  She’d never before been angry with him present, but she couldn’t hold it back now; it came flowing out of her.  “You cannot claim that my lack of fidelity is what aggrieves you—you have been living with a woman for years.  What is her name, Miss Hamilton, I believe?”  She could see the muscles of his jaw working with displeasure and anger.  He might not like hearing it, but it was true.  “I spent years being loyal to you, preserving my chastity like a sacred gift belonging to you—it wasn’t something you appreciated.”

“Perhaps, my dear, it is your lack of discretion that offends.  Or are you completely oblivious of the embarrassment that you have caused me, my family—not to mention your own.”

“My own family?
  Are you unaware that I have none left?”

“You still need to
honor your family name, as you needed to honor my name.  You’ve made me the laughing stock of London.  The burden of you is never-ending.”

“If I am such a burden, I wonder why you felt the need to cross the world to retrieve
me?  You could have left me where I was.”

“Because we cannot just shake off our burdens—that is not our right.”  He was speaking in sharp angry tones.  She hadn’t meant for the conversation to go this way, but perhaps there was no other way for it to go.  “You can’t just shake it off like a coat and leave it behind.  It doesn’t work that way.   You swore an oath and you will keep to it.”

“And I did, for years, but you placed me in a position I could not bear.  I was suffocating—dying.”

“Don’t be melodramatic,” he said with distaste.

She went silent with anger, watching him.  She couldn’t trust herself to speak, she was so angry with him for completely dismissing the suffering she’d gone through.  “I want a divorce,” she said icily, feeling like anger was dripping off her.  “You care nothing for my happiness.”

“No,” he said, simply and decisively.

Adele thought for a moment he was agreeing that he didn’t care for her happiness, but it sunk in that he said no to the divorce.  Adele stared at him in disbelief, trying to think of some reason for why he would refuse her at this point—when they’d gone years without ever managing to even stay in the same room.  “You have every reason in the world—no one would argue the grounds.  I wouldn’t even challenge it—I’m even begging you.”

“I will not discuss this further, but while we are speaking frankly, there is an issue I need to address with you.”  His sharp eyes were boring into her.  “I will not have you touting your charms with men on this ship.”

Adele gasped at the blatant accusation, which was underserved.  She recalled how he’d called her a whore at one point, and was now accusing her of receiving the attention of other men.  Reaching back, she slapped him hard across the face.

Grabbing her wrist, he forced it around her back, which brought her body into full contact with his
.  His grip was painful on her wrist and he looked down on her forbiddingly as he held her in place.  As she whimpered with the pain, he let her go and stepped away.  There was complete silence in the room as she stared at him, trying to understand where they stood in relation to each other.  “You bring out the very worst in me,” he said.  “You always have.  I swear, you bring me to depths I didn’t know I had, and never wanted to know.”  Lysander turned his back on her.  “You are overwrought and have given yourself over to dramatics. You should withdraw to your room.”

“Do not treat me like a child,” she warned.

“Then stop acting like one.”

“You’re despicable.”

“Then it is a description that can be attributed to both of us.”

“I found a man that cared about me, who loved me.  In the short time I was with him, he was a better husband that you ever were.”

“But the point is that he wasn’t your husband, Lady Warburton.  There is a significant point of distinction.”

Marching out of his room, Adele slammed the door, feeling herself shaking with anger and resentment.  She was married to an absolutely impossible man—he always had been, so she wasn’t sure why she was surprised.

Lysander didn’t speak with Adele after that incident when she’d come into his cabin, accusing him.  In truth, she hadn’t spoken to him either.  They carried on as they had been, dining together; him walking her to the salon and then back to her cabin at the end of the evening, but they didn’t speak beyond the necessary practicalities.  Her distance from him was a little more pronounced, almost like she was a little unsure of him.  He couldn’t entirely blame her; he’d behave
d atrociously and he wasn’t proud of it.  She just drove him to distraction and he reacted to it, which he shouldn’t.  He had to reassert proper control of himself.  This was not the person he wanted to be.  Perhaps it was a good idea, decreasing the contact and increasing the distance between them.

Sitting at the table in the salon, he watched the mingling that evening.  His wife was discussing something with an Australian widow, returning to England to live with her sister, his wife tall in comparison and he noted other people saw her as compelling and handsome—not the gawky girl with huge eyes he always saw in his mind’s eye when he thought of her.  He realized that when he thought of her, he saw her as she had been and she clearly wasn’t that creature anymore.

Men found her attractive, and while he’d gotten used to the idea, it still annoyed him when men spoke to her, particularly the professor as he suspected Adele enjoyed his company.  Another man that had uncovered the passion in the woman that was his wife, having taken her from girlhood to womanhood, and it had happened while he hadn’t been paying attention.  But perhaps that was the point; he hadn’t been paying attention and he’d left her unguarded for other men to find.

The most uncomfortable aftermath of their row some nights back was the knowledge that her desertion of their marriage hadn’t been entirely about her being swayed by other men or her being driven by a defective character, but driven, to some degree, by her dissatisfaction with their marriage.  It was an uncomfortable idea, because it brought the culpability swinging back in his direction.

He wasn’t cowardly in the sense that he refused to accept his own responsibility in matters.  He knew he had been a terrible husband and on some level he accepted that his wife’s desertion was in some ways justified—morally, in some respects, if not legally. 

As he watched, the American geologist approached her and she smiled.  Frowning, Lysander realized that she never smiled when he approached her.  Clearly, his wife hated him.  He knew it was not an uncommon state in marriage; he knew few people whose marriages were actually successful.  Marriage wasn’t about success; it was about stability, family and securing the future—consolidating position.  He had grown to accept his father’s take on the institution over time—looking past his youthful naivety.

Taking a swig of his drink, he winced as the liquid burnt the back of his throat, numbing slightly as it went.  He didn’t usually drink this make of whiskey, but for some reason, he desired the burn it always gave him.  He still didn’t know what to do about his marriage.  She’d asked for a divorce and he’d refused.  His adamant refusal had actually been a reflection of his anger; he’d been spiteful when he’d refused her proposal.  He wasn’t proud of his spiteful reaction, but on the other hand, he did believe everything he’d said: marriage was a duty one could not just cast aside; it wasn’t about happiness, it was about duty.  But his marriage had also caused him a great degree of embarrassment and would continue to do so.  His reputation had been truly damaged by his inconstant wife and accepting her back would be perceived as weak character by the men in his acquaintance.

As he watched, Adele accepted a drink from the waiter.    It didn’t take long for someone to spot that she was alone and start engaging her in conversation.  A few months back, he’d have expected her to be hiding along
the edge of the room, where no-one noticed her—that had been his understanding of his wife.  In his absence, his wife had become a delightful woman.

Adele took a seat by her husband, soothing out the creases in her second-best dress. It wasn’t really of sufficient quality for the surroundings, but she couldn’t wear the yellow dress all the time; it’d be threadbare before she reached London. She had little choice but to utilize some of the dresses she wore as a schoolmistress, unsuitable as they were.

Sitting
next to her, Lysander spoke to the American banker—a man she knew he actually liked conversing with. The American banker, who was traveling the world with his wife, had many interesting topics of conversation, which Lysander had an appreciation for. Adele watched his face as they spoke, noticing the lines that were starting to encroach on his features. She watched as his eyes moved as he thought about the things he was being told. He was intelligent, she could see that now. She’d never actually spent enough time with him to know with any certainty. This was what he looked like when he was interested in something—not usually the look she received; his face would be much more tightly drawn when he looked at her and she could sometimes see suspicion in his eyes, as if he didn’t trust her.

“You must give it a turn,” Mrs
Callisfore addressed her from further down the table.  “It pleases us older persons to see a handsome couple dancing.”

“
Dancing?” Adele repeated with a moment of panic.  Not only had she been caught in a moment of absent contemplation, but also in a context with dancing involved.  Her eyes shot to Lysander.

“The dancing is about to start.”

Adele turned back to Mrs Callisfore.  “I’m not sure I should…” she drifted off, again returning her gaze to Lysander who coolly regarded her.  Adele had actually been hoping to return to her cabin early like she did most nights.  She wasn’t sure, but she wondered if she saw accusation in his eyes, exactly like he used to on the rare occasion they were together, when he’d felt she was tedious and dull.

The
accusation of their argument still hung in the air between them.  Nothing had been resolved, but they both now knew the depth of their regard for one another.

“Come now,” Mrs
Callisfore pushed.  “I am sure your Lord Warburton would love to twirl you around on the dance floor, my dear.  It would be such a handsome sight.”

Looking down, Adele felt Lysander’s accusation sting.  As much as she wanted to escape his judgement, she couldn’t quite achieve it. 
And it was an unfair accusation, especially coming from him.  Looking him squarely in the eyes, she held her head high.  “If Lord Warburton would be so inclined, I would of course dance with him.”

He turned his head slightly at the challenge.  She’d never directly challenged him
in public like that before—almost like she was challenging his perception of her.  “As you wish, my dear.”

The endearment felt goading.  He only did it in public, to keep up appearances, but it seemed that they were having a display of wills tonight and Adele was wondering if this was a good idea.  Adele remained quiet for a while, until the dancing started.  Everyone knew of
their indication to dance and were watching them expectantly when it started.

Lysander rose and approached her, looking exactly as arrogant and forbidding as he always did.  Holding out his hand, he expected her to take it.  Something in her warned against doing so, as if she needed to protect herself from whatever this
would intimate.  Guardedly, her eyes sought out his again.  The accusation was still there, even as she placed her fingers in his warm hand.

She rose as he
gently pulled her up out of her seat and led her to the center of the floor where the dancing had started.  Waltzing, of course.  Turning to her, his hand repositioned to hers bringing them palm to palm.  She never touched his skin and the feel was confronting; the touch radiating out through her arm, making her tingle.  His other hand moved around her back, settling at its base, warm and firm.  His mouth was close to her eyes, forcing her to see him much more intimately than she could remember seeing.  This dance alluded to intimacy without allowing the full contact between their bodies.  This was definitely not a good idea.

Lysander started moving, fo
rcing Adele to follow his lead and to place her hand on his shoulder.  In this dance, she had to follow him, just like she had to in real life.  This elegant dance also highlighted the true nature of control in relationships between men and women—the control he had over her—as if to say beautiful things happened when there was harmony between them.

Adele felt short of breath as he turned her around on the floor, more so when their t
highs would touch as they moved.  It was intensely uncomfortable, but she had to bear with this as she had so completely risen to the challenge he’d presented, while resenting herself for still caring.

Mercifully the dance ended and Adele was finally released from the embrace.  He had strictly kept the required space between their bodies throughout the dance, but it was confronting nonetheless. 

Returning to the table, Lysander turned to her.  “Do you wish to return to your cabin?”

“No, I’m fine,” she lied.  She really did want to return, but his goading still drove her.

He considered her for a moment, then nodded and turned to participate in a discussion as they neared a group.  Adele still felt assaulted and confronted by their recent physical intimacy.  Slowly, she drifted toward the conversation as well. 

“Would you care to dance again?” Professor Smith asked her.  Again she felt a moment of panic, but for different reasons. 
“If your husband wouldn’t mind, of course.”

Lysander looked tense with the muscles of his jaw twinging, but he nodded graciously.

Adele took the professor’s hand, but it didn’t have the charged feeling that it had with Lysander.  The professor led her to the floor and twirled her to him.  Lysander’s accusation that she encouraged the attention of other men flitted through her mind.  On one level it was true; she preferred the attention of other men over her husband; dancing with the professor was more fun than it was confronting.  There wasn’t the heavy bearing of meaning that it had with her husband.  This dance was just for the sheer joy of it and she smiled as he started turning her around, conscious that Lysander’s eyes were on her.  She actually did enjoy dancing, normally and the enjoyment of it seemed to be returning, and it ended much too quickly, returning her to the solemn and disapproving countenance of her husband.  Lysander nodded tightly as the professor returned her to Lysander’s care.  Adele almost regretted it; for a moment, she had been away from the gravity of their dealings, for a moment of carefree and light enjoyment.

“You are proving quite a popular dance partner tonight,” he said.

“So it would appear,” she said guardedly.

“I think it is time to retire.  The evening grows late and I know how much you dislike staying up.”

A frown fleeted across her face.  Lysander didn’t normally direct her comings and goings, but he was tonight, knowing it had to do with the professor dancing with her. 

“I will escort you,” he said.

“Thank you.”  She didn’t mind withdrawing.  The evening had been tense and uncomfortable.  Lysander’s presence at her side had been impossible to ignore.  Escaping would be merciful, even if being told to do so grated, but being away from his scrutiny made his overbearingness worth suffering.

The night was clearly humid and s
he would sleep badly that night, even with the more rigorous exercise that evening. She would toss and turn, trying to alleviate the ill-at-ease feeling brought on by this weather. But she knew it was more than weather. The fact that they had departed Australia and were now firmly on their way to Europe, only brought home the idea that she was returning to London and the life she’d lived before—the one she couldn’t tolerate.