An Absent Wife (18 page)

A large envelope arrived from the solicitor a week later.  Lysander knew what it was.  Placing it down on the desk in his study, it felt heavy in his hands.  He pinched the bridge of his nose, trying to rub away the ache in his head.  His body was aching as well, from the constant evenings out drinking.  When the sun came down, he just couldn’t stay in the house.

Annoyed at his own hesitance, he reached for the solicitor’s envelop
e and ripped it open.  The parchment inside was crisp and the writing neat.  He read through the petition and everything was as he expected.

The space at the bottom requiring his signature stared blankly at him.  Slowly he picked up his pen, placed it in the ink well and brought it over to the paper.   His hand shook as it hovered over the paper. 

If he signed this, it would start the process—a process that would probably go quite quickly.  Adele’s actions were known far and wide, so it wouldn’t take much convincing to have a judge sign it—unless Adele contested it, which he doubted she would do.  She seemed too distracted to worry about the dissolution of their marriage.  She hadn’t even discussed the provisions he would give her.  Technically, he didn’t have to give her anything—being divorced meant she only had non-marital income or wealth to rely on, which was practically nothing. 

Lysander would provide her with sufficient funds to live and raise the child.  As opposed to some other divorced husbands, he didn’t wish to see her suffer and destitute as a consequence of the ending of the marriage.  He wasn’t entirely sure what her plans were, but he could afford almost any circumstance she chose. 

The pen still hovered over the space where his signature was to go.  He felt intense pressure and his thoughts whirled around as to the implications of signing the petition.  He needed to sign this to achieve what they both wanted.  He would also be signing away the intimacy they’d had and the desire that still gripped him with enough force to drive him out of the house every night.

A drop of ink fell from the hovering pen, spreading like a spider’s web across the paper.   His hand just didn’t seem to want to lower.  There was such
a finality in the act—signing his marriage away.  To his own surprise, he just couldn’t bring himself to sign it at the moment.  Perhaps he was just feeling a little off-color from his nights out, and a little sentimental.  This is what they both wanted; he should just sign the petition and let this pass without fanfare, complying with everyone’s expectations.  No-one, not even himself, would understand why he wasn’t signing it.

“I am going to go out for a while,” he heard Adele’s voice from the doorway.  Quickly and discreetly he shoved the p
archment under a pile of documents, hoping that her attention wasn’t drawn to his action.

“Oh?”

“There is a perambulator maker in Marylebone that is very respected.  I know it is early days, but he apparently requires much notice.  I thought I would go see what samples they have available.”

“Pardon?”

“A perambulator—a small carriage for talking a small child for walks.”

“
I see.  Of course.  I will escort you.”  He hadn’t meant to offer his assistance; it had just come out.

She nodded in acknowledgement, obviously not expecting company either.  “
Jamieson is having the carriage brought around.”

“Good,” Lysander said, standing from his chair.  He suspected that part of the reason why he was eager to
take his wife to see this perambulator-maker was to alleviate himself for the moment of the unpleasant task confronting him.  He clearly wasn’t in the mood to deal with it and sign the petition.

When the carriage pulled in on the sidewalk outside the house, Lysander helped Adele and joined her on the opposing seat.  Her hands were neatly placed in her lap and she was watching out the window.  His eyes
traveled to her flat stomach, stiffly braced by a corset.  “Should you be wearing a corset?”

“It is not as tight as I normally have it.  But I will stop wearing it after a month or so.  I may not be fashionable, but then who will see me?”  Lysander frowned.  Adele’s statement indicated her own intent, and it was obviously living reclusively to some degree.   Once he signed the
petition hiding on his desk and it was approved, he had no say in what she did.  It was a challenging notion as he’d had complete say and an expectation that she would comply with his wishes; although that had to some degree been negated when she ran off to India.  He wasn’t a man who derived satisfaction from enforcing his will, but it had become an expectation.

He wanted to ask her what she was planning, but he couldn’t bring himself to do it, making him
wonder at his own inability to face the future.  Perhaps because the future that was coming his way didn’t now seem like the light and carefree time he’d used to envision.  The truth was that he would worry about Adele, even though it would no longer be his right or his concern.  But his child would also be in her hands, which meant he would worry more.  It was his right to insist he keep the child, and the law would support him, but he couldn’t do that to her—and what would he do with a child? His life as a carefree bachelor would hardly be conducive to raising a child.  Adele would be in the throes of motherhood and child-rearing and he would be...  He couldn’t even really image his own future—days reading the newspaper at the club, afternoons going over his investments and evenings in the arms of some woman of Evie’s ilk.  That had been his life before and what he’d worked definitively to defend, but somehow it seemed to have lost its appeal.

“Shall you go to Egypt?” she asked, breaking into his disturbing thoughts.  Lysander jumped at the chance for distraction and was also pleased that she remembered part of the discussion they’d had during their day at the British Museum.

“I haven’t thought further on it.”

“I think you should.”

“And shall you?”

“Go to Egypt?”

“With the child.”

“Maybe,” she said
, smiling.  “The child will be too young for a few years yet, but when it’s old enough, I would like to do a few trips.  Perhaps not somewhere as exotic as Egypt, but maybe France—possibly Spain or Italy.”  Her gaze returned to the window and he felt a moment of impatience losing her attention.  “Do you think you shall remarry?”

“No.”

“No?  Why not.”

“I will have my heir.”

“Is that the only benefit of a marriage?” she said, watching him intently.

“I have been married if you recall,” he said.  “Technically I still am.  I think we can both agree that I have certain deficiencies as a husband.”

“But you cannot judge all marriages by the failure of ours.  Our marriage had too many strikes against it to ever have been successful.”

He used t
o believe so, but of late, he’d started to wonder if things couldn’t have been different if he’d released his anger earlier.  “Did it?  Isn’t the construct of our marriage typical?”

“Perhaps it was just the nature of the two people involved that did not match.  Y
ou cannot judge the institution by the failings of this one.  You should find someone you’re happy with.  I wish that for you.”  It looked like there was something else she wanted to add, but was holding back.

“How disparate are our natures though?  When we are in the same space, we deal quite well together.”  He looked out the window
for a moment.  “When we were intimate, we dealt extraordinarily together.”  Didn’t she know that?  Was her experiences with Mr Ellingwood just as profound?  He felt a wall of anger rush through him at the thought.  He wanted their intimacy to be as unique to her as it had been to him.  He cleared his throat.  “The point being that perhaps we were never that badly matched.  Perhaps I am not well-suited for marriage.”

“I don’t believe that.”

“You are the one who has suffered most from my lack of matrimonial suitability.  I have come to realize that it was not you that was the shortcoming in this marriage.  You never did anything wrong.”

“Except to run off to India,” Adele said in an attempt to lighten the conversation.

“After so many years, who would truly say it wasn’t understandable.  I left you alone.  Eventually a man would come along; turn your head.”

Adele felt concern wash over her features.  She’d always wanted to hear him say those things, but now that he was, she wasn’t sure she wanted it anymore.  Perhaps they were better off not clearing this all up and continuing as they were.  This analysis in the aftermath may not serve either of them.

“Will you marry again?
” he asked.

“I have no intention to at the moment.  I think my attention will be with the child for quite a while to come, but eventually, if I have the opportunity, then yes.”

Lysander looked away; she saw the muscle in his jaw tensing.  She wasn’t quite sure where his thoughts were at right now.  He seemed to be analysing the past and the things that had made their marriage the disaster that it was.  If she were completely honest, she didn’t want to think about it anymore; she’d spent too much time in her life doing so and she just wanted to leave it behind—yet again. 

They arrived at the street where
perambulator merchant had his facility.  It was a busy main street with many shops.  Adele spotted a store across the street which sold fine soaps that she wanted to visit as well, but she might not have the chance now that she had company.  She didn’t begrudge him coming along—he would be paying for these purchases after all.  They hadn’t discussed the appropriateness of her purchasing these things for the child while she was still within the confines of this marriage and under his responsibility, for paying her commitment to merchants.  Discussing it would mean a broader discussion on the means she would have later.  If he was to provide her with means, then it didn’t matter if it was spent now or later.  If he was not providing her with means, she could likely not afford a perambulator of this quality—but he was here, which meant he was obviously willing to provide these things.

Adele walked into the store, which was more of a workshop than a store.  There were a few samples of
perambulators, one beautifully crafted contraption in deep mahogany and rich velvet.

“That one if for the
Duke and Duchess of Summervale,” a man said as he approached them.

“It is quite magnificent.”

“Some would say ridiculous, but it’s all down to taste,” the craftsman said, wiping his hands on his apron.

“Perhaps slightly more than I require,” Adele
admitted.  Lysander walked ahead of her, surveying the workshop and the child-carriages they were building.  “Do you have something that is more suited to the country?”

Lysander turned his attention to her, his eyes dark and brooding.  She couldn’t quite make out if he was giving her a harsh look or not.

It was raining again and Adele hated the limits it placed on her.  Now that she was pregnant, Lysander would never let her go for a walk in the rain. 

Perhaps she had grown accustomed to the country over the years, seemingly having lost her enthusiasm for living in the city.  They seemed to have stopped their evening excursions, which honestly wasn’t a great loss.  She’d been to the opera; it had been a rather traumatic experience and she wasn’t exactly hopping to get back in that saddle.  Perhaps
her agitation also stemmed from the fact that her future was away from here.  She supposed it was natural that one started to detach from one’s old life when such a drastic change was expected.

But this baby was going to take a long time to grow and she had to be patient.  The rain just made it a bit harder.

“He doesn’t want me to go, but I am not sending him off somewhere sight unseen,” Isobel said from the seat behind Adele’s back.  Isobel had come to call a short while earlier and they’d taken tea in the parlor.

“Of course you must go.”

“Isn’t he getting too old to be embarrassed of his mother?”  Andrew’s securance of a place in Oxford was cause from celebration.

“Does he resent having to leave behind the girl he’s developed an attachment to?”

“I suppose, but he is also excited about the things ahead of him.  But since I forced him, I suppose he is obliged to act surly.  But no matter, off he goes.  He can write to the girl and if their attachment survives the separation, then perhaps it is a good match.  At least this way, I won’t be a grandmother for a few years yet.”

“You would make a wonderful grandmother.”

“With a young child of my own,” Isobel said with a tsk.  “You must come over for dinner this week.  We must celebrate Andrew’s placement.”

“Of course.”

“I will ask Lysander too.”

Adele’s smile didn’t falter, but it was true, their dealings were a little strained of late.  Lysander had become surly as well, and he was away from the house most of the time—to her own relief, admittedly.  “I’m sure he would love to.”

Preparing
for the evening at Isobel’s, Adele hoped that it would be a nice evening without the awkwardness that had developed between her and Lysander.  She could hear him waiting impatiently downstairs through her open bedroom door.  He was pacing.

Securing her earring, she rose to leave, taking one last look in the mirror, wondering how long it would take before her belly actually started to show the signs of pregnancy.  She hadn’t stopped wearing the corset just yet, but it was loosely drawn.  It was just so very obvious when she wasn
’t wearing it, almost indecent—but the child needed space to grow, so the corset had to go.

She smiled at Lysander when she walked down the stairs, but he didn’t return the smile.  She would have rolled her eyes if she’d been completely unobserved.  He changed so very much; they’d gotten on really well for a while, but now they were back to distance and surliness—she supposed she shouldn’t be surprised.

The carriage ride over to Isobel’s house was silent with the few exceptions of when he enquired about her wellbeing.  Isobel was waiting at the door and greeted them both warmly.  The familiar traits were evident when Isobel and Lysander stood next to each other, making Adele wonder what traits her child would inherit.  She wished this pregnancy would just progress so she could meet her child—this waiting was awful.

“Well, luckily, she doesn’t seem to harshly affected, but that might change.”

“Sorry?” Adele asked as she realized they were talking about her.

“With nausea.”

“No, nothing yet.”

“Then you are lucky, but it might still come.” 

They walked into the house and through to the salon, where a footman provided glasses of sherry.  Andrew waited for the guests’ arrival on one of the sofas, standing as they entered the room.

Lysander and Andrew talked for a while about Oxford and some of Lysander’s experiences there. 
Even though Andrew was attending another school in Oxford, he was nervously absorbing all the information he could.  Adele felt a little sorry for him, being sent off to the venerable institutions that represented higher learning at Oxford, with all the tradition and expectations that went with it. 

“He should do quite well
,” Isobel said.  “He is not ill-suited to study, but it needs to be topics that interest him, and his interests run to the more practical, like architecture or engineering.  He has an endless fascination for the Underground Rail System.”

Adele thought back
to Lysander’s fascination for explorers, a topic that still engaged him if he gave it opportunity to—although far from his actual life now.

“How is Lysander?” Isobel asked as if reading her thoughts.

“I don’t know.  We seemed to have returned to more tense dealings.”

“That is unfortunate.”

The supper bell ra
ng and they all moved to the dining room, which was handsomely laid out with silver, porcelain and bouquets.  Lysander had never really held dinner parties as his wife had never been around to perform the role of hostess.  It should perhaps have been something they should have done, but he hadn’t thought of it.  He had no idea what her skills were, but she seemed to know wifely duties well.

“So when are you departing for Oxford?” Lysander asked.

“On Friday.”  Andrew said, coloring slightly at the prospect.

“Excellent.”

“As Andrew will not be using his room for the next year, I thought Adele could occupy it for a while,” Isobel said with cheeriness, watching Andrew to see if he objected.  It wasn’t Andrew she should be watching, Lysander thought with a frown.  His eyes moved to Adele, who was watching between him and Isobel.  He didn’t like the idea.  “As you are divorcing, the idea that Adele live under my roof seems entirely appropriate.”

Lysander’s eyes narrowed, wondering if Isobel was trying to coerce him by bringing this topic up in front of other people.  “I don’t think that is necessary.”

Isobel’s gaze moved squarely to him, a look of concern in her eyes.  “Come, nephew.  I could use the company and Adele will need calm as the baby grows.”

“Our house is much calmer, besides, you are running after a child all day.”

“Skills she will have to learn.”

Lysander’s mood had darkened considerably once the soup was brought in, ending the conversation.  He didn’t like Isobel’s interference, particularly stated in such a public and challenging way.

The meal continued, but Lysander had lost some of his enjoyment of the occasion.  Isobel and Adele were discussing the merits of the latest fashion, and even the ice-cream couldn’t meet with his approval.  Something seemed to strain against the idea of Adele leaving and taking up residence here.  On some level it felt like an insult, but he couldn’t quite place the reasoning behind it.

As the dinner finished, Andrew had gone upstairs to collect a book he wanted to discuss, while Adele retreated to the privy.

“Why are you standing in the way, Lysander?” Isobel asked him directly.

“I just don’t think it is appropriate that you suggest where my wife should live.”

“And as you are getting divorced, perhaps it is not yours to speak for her.”

“She is my wife.”  Lysander temper flare
d.

“You are getting divorced.  You have to let her go now.”

Lysander had no response; he just felt anger and entrapment.  He couldn’t quite explain why the idea of her living here strained so much.

“We are not divorced yet.  She is still my wife.”

Isobel was watching him in the way she did when she was suspicious of his motives.  “Why must you insist on making things difficult for her?”

Again he had no answer.  “I don’t appreciate interference in my marriage.”

“I am trying to prepare her for what is to come, for her life when you are no longer there—not that you ever were, but she needs to start being independent.  Can’t you see that I am trying to help her?”

Lysander felt
trapped.  His reaction was extraordinary and, frankly, baseless, but he couldn’t help it.  He wasn’t ready for everything to proceed so quickly and without his initiation.

Adele returned to the room, looking slightly confused.  “Alright, maybe I am feeling a little nauseous,” she said.

“That is all very normal,” Isobel smiled at her. 

Andrew returned as well, starting a discussion on theories around the construction of taller buildings.  They all retreated to the salon again, where Lysander asked for a whiskey, wondering if he should perhaps seek out more male company once this was over and he had returned Adele safely to the house.  He had lost his appetite for discussion and bitterly wished for another whiskey, maybe three.

The evening ended shortly after and Adele moved to the vestibule to dress in her cloak, when Isobel pulled him aside.

“I want her to come
and live here, Lysander.”

“I am not obliged to take orders from you regarding my wife and child.”

“You are being unreasonable and cruel.  At some point, you need to start considering the welfare of others ahead of your own, but Adele’s shift here is a reasonable course considering what is ahead.  If you are seeking to punish her, then you need to stop.”

“I am not seeking to punish her,” he said against gritted teeth, resenting the accusation.

“Then what are you doing?”

He dismissed her question, tired of having to explain
himself.  They were not divorced yet; everyone needed to stop trying to force his hand.  Things would develop when they were supposed to.  What was the point in rushing ahead?