An Absent Wife (17 page)

When things changed, she would miss this.  She wasn’t sorry for having experienced this or her own reaction
to him, but she would miss this a great deal.

Adele was on pins and needles
, unable to sit still.  Her bleeds were supposed to have started yesterday and yet there was nothing.   Now that her hope had built up, she would be devastated if it turned out to be false. 

She would wait another day, she told herself.  In the meantime, she needed a distraction to keep her mind from worrying, except she couldn’t really settle on anything.  It was too rainy for taking a walk and she was too agitated to do anything sedate
, like embroidering.  She didn’t think she’d ever experienced time moving so slowly.

It was true that she was afraid of letting her mind wander to the joys and requirements of a
baby, or even the pregnancy, to be disappointed after making extensive plans for a new life with a baby.  She gave a silent prayer yet again, hoping it was true.

Lysander was out of the house.  She wanted to share her worries with him, but would refrain
from it until she was a little more certain—one day overdue didn’t constitute confirmation of any kind.  Her thoughts turned to him more generally.  It was possible that they had achieved what they’d set out to do in a surprisingly quick time.  Adele would miss the nights they’d spent together in the attempt to bring this about—but they had also wreaked havoc on her peace of mind.  She hoped her body would readjust and she could focus her attention on this child.  This child meant that she would finally be leaving this marriage behind and she was glad.  It had been nothing but trouble for both of them and now it was over.  She’d been sad about that state of her marriage for much too long—now she would be excited about this baby and the future filled with joy and childhood.

“Please, please, please be true,” she whispered to herself as she paced back and forth.

Lysander had just sat down to breakfast when he heard Adel
e bound down the stairs like an over-excited girl.  A spike of concern flashed through him, that something was wrong, but it wasn’t a distressed and crying woman that greeted him, it was Adele looking not far off an over-excited child.  Her cheeks were rosy and her eyes were bright, and she was smiling widely.  He hadn’t seen her like this since he agreed to take her around Venice.

She marched to him and he felt slightly confused as he rose from the chair.  She marched straight into
his arms, in an unexpected embrace and he almost had to brace himself against the force of it.

“It’s been four days,” she stated as she stood against him.

“Four days since...?”

She cast a wary eye at Jamieson, who stood in the corner overseeing the breakfast service.  His man discreetly cleared his throat and went to check on something in the kitchen.  “Four days since... my bleeds were supposed to start,” she said in a whisper.

“Oh,” he said with his eyebrows rising.  The news had taken him completely by surprise—not that it should.  “Oh, I see.”  He placed his hand gently on the small of her back, noting how slight she felt.

“Thank you,” she said, reaching up to kiss him.  The kiss was also unexpected and lasted perhaps a little longer than it should.  Then she pulled away from the kiss and from him.

“Isn’t it the most exciting news?”  She walked over to the side table where breakfast was being served.  “Apparently, I must eat well.  I should consult with Isobel if there is anything I should eat that will be strengthening for the baby.”

“Have you spoken to Doctor Petersen?”

“Not yet.  I thought I would have him call today.  I wish it wasn’t raining.  This rain is driving me to distraction, keeping me cooped inside—on such a day; I want to tell the world.  I don’t mind telling you that the wait over the last few days have been absolutely excruciating.”

Lysander realized that she’d been holding this news for several days; waiting for the veracity of it.  He’d had no idea.  Adele dropped some
ham on her plate, along with two eggs, a slice bread and some asparagus stalks.

“I shall eat fruit, lots and lots of fruit,” she said.  “Perhaps not fish ... unless it comes from good, clean waters.”

He had never experienced Adele quite like this—excited and distracted.   She was chattering.

“There is so much I need to do,” she continued.  “I need a
perambulator, and a feeding chair.  I need toys, and clothes.  The list is endless.”

“And a miniature traveling trunk,” he said, referring to the conversation they’d had at the Br
itish Museum.  Adele gave him a confused look and returned her attention to eating.

“Perhaps even a dog,” she said more quietly.  She
didn’t pick up on the reference to the discussion they’d had about her wish to travel with the child—show it the world.  She was too distracted with the future.  Lysander felt a bit like she was sweeping the past away, including the discussions they’d had.  He was clearly not in the picture of her musings, because she wasn’t asking his opinion—she was planning for herself, which had always been their intent.  It was just difficult to witness, he discovered, being set aside—exactly like he had done to her.

“If we shall live in the country, we could even have a pony,” she continued, her eyes sparkling with a mischievous smile.  His eyes rolled that her idea of mischievous included getting a pony. 

Lysander needed a drink, something strong—even if it was only eight in the morning.  Her ‘we’s’ didn’t include him—he was to stay here in this empty house, with his club, his evening entertainments—and Evie.  The thought of Evie made him feel despondent.  No, he didn’t think he could abide Evie’s company anymore, no matter what happened.

“I think I will go to the club this morning,” he said.   Adele gave him a passing nod in acknowledgement, but her mind returned to her musings.  He wasn’t even sure she’d actually absorbed what he’d said.

Stepping out on the street, he noted how stifling he had felt in his house.  Although he was glad for Adele’s excitement and enthusiasm, he also felt confronted by it.  At least Isobel wouldn’t be accusing him of making her suffer now, because she clearly wasn’t. 

There was hardly anyone out this time of the
morning, he rarely saw the world outside his bedroom this time of the day either.   When he arrived, the club was practically deserted as well—just the odd sprinkling of elderly gentlemen for whom this was likely midday.  So he was conferring with this set now, he thought grimly.  Taking a seat in a deserted group of chairs, he grabbed a newspaper and ordered a whiskey.  The butlers at the club were discreet enough not to bat an eyelid as his request for hard liquor this time of the morning.

He tried to read, but he couldn’t seem to engage his mind properly.  After a few moments of trying, he set the paper
aside and crossed his fingers in his lap.

When Adele had come bounding down the stairs this morning, his marriage was effectively over.  This had been the event he’d wished for, coming up to a decade.  Yet somehow, it didn’t feel like the celebration it was.  With this child and a simple petition and he would be free—free not to have a wife.  A
s for the child, a boy would be preferable, but a girl wasn’t a disaster in this day and age.  And he would return to the life he wanted, finally free of Adele.

He would also be free of a woman who waited for him in the evenings, who gave so sweetly of her body.  He had to close his eyes as the thoughts of their night
s together washed over him, making him tense and tighten.  He would miss the evenings in Adele’s company.  He’d never experienced the like before, and he suspected he wouldn’t again.  He’d even started preferring spending the evenings at home, instead of seeking entertainment and diversion amongst London’s society.  And now she was leaving.

“The harpy’s driven you to drink this early in the morning?” Harry said as he sat down heavily in the chair across from him.  Lysander had been too absorbed in his own thoughts to notice his friend’s arrival. 
Smiling grimly at his friend’s comment, he acknowledged that it was true; she had driven him to drink, but for the exact opposite reason to what Harry thought. 

Lysander held up his glass and took a swig.  “What’s she done now?”  Harry’s derisive tone didn’t even attempt to hide what he thought of her, and Lysander had to take some responsibility as he’d cultivated his friend
’s disregard for his wife long before she ran off and deserted her marriage.

“Adele is pregnant,” he said.

Harry gave a quick nod.  “Congratulations,” he said.  “In that case, I will join you.”  He attracted the attention of one of the butlers and ordered himself a glass as well.  “Now you can divorce her.”

“Yes,” Lysander said, but it clearly didn’t hold the level of enthusiasm that Harry was expecting.  “But should I?  If she is with child, she needs protection.”

“Protection?  We’re not exactly living in the dark ages—besides, she is a grown woman, capable of taking care of herself.  And if you are to worry about her comfort just because she is breeding, then what is the difference then to worrying for her comfort when she is nursing, or has a young child.  When will it end?”

Lysander rubbed the smooth skin of his chin as if there was stubble there.

“No,” Harry continued.  “Better to do this now.  Set her up in comfort if you wish—if it makes you feel more at ease, but there is no reason to extend this horror of a marriage.  You are a good man, but you have suffered long enough.  Divorce her now, have the petition prepared.  I knew she would be trying to ingratiate herself with you.  This is a ploy, Lysander.”

Frowning, Lysander took yet another swig of his whiskey.  Harry’s opinion of Adele was unjustly harsh, but he knew Harry wouldn’t change his mind if he tried to explain, and would cite it as further evidence of her atte
mpts to manipulate him, when that truth was the Adele likely wanted this divorce as much as Harry did.

“Have the petition prepared today,” Harry said firmly.

After supper, Lysander retreated to his study, feeling pensive and restless.  He wasn’t entirely sure he was ready for this change that had come on so quickly.  He tried to tell himself that he should be glad that he was now free and released from a burden that had held him for a very long time, but it left him feeling agitated.

He couldn’t sit here and
sulk, he decided.  The house had that stifling quality again and it set his nerves on edge.  He wasn’t sure where Harry was that night; he hadn’t thought to inquire earlier.

Lysander headed out of the house.   He didn’t quite know where he was headed, but any entertainment would do.  After arriving at his club, he fell in with the group of an acquaintance—a young, ambitious man
freshly from Oxford, who had tried to befriend him in the past—impressed with his title and wealth.  Lysander didn’t normally associate with the younger, unmarried and carefree men, but he needed diversion and their high spirits were appealing.

After consuming a few whiskeys, mellowness set in and the agitation that had stolen into him started to give.  The young men were raucous and before long they ended up at an establishment with women, drinking and gambling—the trifecta of the gentleman’s distraction.  This particular establishment was French and they made every effort to create merriment, from raucous dancers on a stage with
colorful ruffled skirts and undergarments, to bright lights and sumptuous decor.  The music fast and loud enough to prevent one from hearing one’s own thoughts.

The drinks were flowing and Lysander gave himself over to the atmosphere o
f the place, forgetting the dour mood he’d left home with.

The house was quiet once Lysander had left, leaving Adele to sort out her competing emotions.  The baby’s existence was possibly the most exciting news she’d ever received, perhaps even competing with the day when she’d been told she was to marry.  Thoughts had been racing around her head all day; there was so much that needed doing—needed preparing.  She had her whole future to establish.

But there was also
a sadness as well, because this was the closing of one chapter, to bring on the next.  It wasn’t a chapter she was strictly sorry to see closed, but there were years of convoluted feelings involved—most of them negative and detracting, but not all.  After convincing herself she had done so, she needed to finally let go of Lysander, which was proving more difficult after the intimacies they’d developed out of necessity just lately. 

Their communion, while having the intent of creating this baby, had also had the effect of letting her explore the emotional intimacy she’d always craved.  She’d tried to keep it at bay, but had to give up on that idea rather quickly.  She lik
ed to think of it as an exorcism to finally deal with the ghost of the man who had inhabited her life in spirit for so long.  As for the real man, the man who had come to her each night; she couldn’t really afford to think about him.  She didn’t wish him harm, but it was time to end it all.  And that felt right.

Laying
down on her bed, she let the sadness of the moment take over and began crying hot, heavy, sobbing tears, knowing she needed to shed these tears.  The tension and longing of years filled those tears.  Now she needed to let go; she needed to make room for this baby and to clear away the past.  She would mourn the passing of that phase in her life for one night, along with the unfulfilled hopes and dreams she’d carried for so long, but then she will put it aside and focus on the bright future.  She cried bitterly for a few hours then fell asleep, feeling she’d released a burden from her soul.

Lysander returned to a quiet house.  He was drunk—not as drunk as he had been, but still drunk—and bitter.  The only thing he really wanted was to go up to Adele’s room and be welcomed into her arms, to revel in the sweet peace and acceptance he’d received there.  She’d never accept him in this state, but his concerns weren’t exclusively or realistically for this moment—but perhaps he needed to be in this state to be honest with himself.  He’d found something in his wife’s urgent touch—something he hadn’t quite found elsewhere.  And now it was being taken away—its purpose achieved.  He had served his duty, and now he was being put out to pasture like an old horse.

That wasn’t entirely true, but it was how he felt, even though he was the one divorcing her.  Yet again, she was causing strife and trouble in his life and consciousness—he should be glad to be rid of her.  

Leaning back, he undid the cravat that stifled his movement and free breathing.  He longed to be touched, longed to be accepted into her room and into her bed.  The heady desire had been there all night, underneath everything, running through from moment to moment, like the mist of smoke that clung to everything in the gentlemen’s establishment he’d been to that night.

But his reason for access into her bed and her body was moot now.  The very practical reason for it in the first place, was gone and now he was left with burning desire in his loins, which he couldn’t successfully drink away.  Everything about Adele was cruel
, and the fact that she’d never intended it made it crueller still.

Running his fingers along the glossy wood of his
desk, he let the sensations of touch reverberate up his fingers.  This desire would drive him mad.   Pulling his fingers back, he tightened his fist, trying to dissipate the feel of the touch.  Whenever he closed his eyes, his desire gave him images to torture him.  He drank some more—at some point, the drink would take over and he would feel nothing.

The stark and painful morning arrived with suddenness.  Having slept in his chair, Lysander’s neck ached.  His body was tense and sore, and his head screamed its protest at the way he’d treated his body the previous night.  The sun shone straight into his eyes through the window and he tried to find an effective way of blocking it out, but failed. 

Eventually he had to heave himself out of his chair and
labored upstairs to flop down on his bed.  He slept a few hours longer, still dressed, before waking again and grudgingly sitting up.  His head still ached; the world was still intent on his punishment.

After washing and shaving, he dressed in a fresh shirt.  As had become custom
ary of late, he would leave the house again, seek out his club and the comforting surroundings of the all-male establishment.  He needed distance to get a better perspective, being driven by desire at the moment, knowing it would lead him astray if he let it.  He wouldn’t be the first man for whom it had happened, although he’d guarded well against it until now.  It was like a beast had been let loose in him and it was screaming for what he wanted—irrespective of what was prudent and logical.  Prudent and logical didn’t include developing a sharp desire for his wife just as he was divorcing her—the one who had deeply embarrassed him, played havoc with his reputation, not to mention his peace of mind, and made him travel across the world in a ruse of deceit.  He needed to step back, let a cooler head emerge—he needed to get perspective.

Breakfast was long gone by the time he finally made it out of his room and he left the house without much delay.  It was a sunny day outside, just to annoy him and his aching head with its infernal blinding sunshine.

Harry was at the club, sitting in their usual place—the creatures of habit that they were.

“Christ, you look awful.  What is she doing to you?”

“Driving me to distraction—literally.”

“And it seems you were distracted.”

“Severely.”

Lysander ordered tea, but didn’t bother to attempt the newspaper with its small print and uninteresting stories.

“Have you had the papers drawn up?” Harry asked and Lysander tsked in annoyance to which Harry noted his disagreeableness.  He had sent a letter requesting the divorce petition papers, but he didn’t want to talk about it.  “None of this is my doing,” Harry pointed out.

“Then don’t speak about things you know nothing about,” Lysander snapped.  Harry was surveying him now.  Lysander
had been downright rude and he knew it, but what he’d said was true to his feelings—Harry’s constant negativity and misconception wasn’t helping.  Lysander wondered if he should leave, but he really didn’t have anywhere to go.  “I’m sorry,” he said after a while.  “I am out of sorts today and my head aches like there are imps hammering on it.”

“Yes well, we have all suffered from the effects of over-indulgence.”  Harry returned his attention to his paper and Lysander felt both ashamed and glad
, knowing his friend was watching out for his interests, and to some extent he needed it, because he was getting lost in the intricacies of the situation and his rather powerful and unfortunate desire for his wife.