“I suppose we both have thing to apologize for.”
“I thought if I died, you would be free to find a marriage you were more suited to,” she said, pressing her napkin to her eyes to stop the tears that were pricking at their back.
“I acknowledge your intent—misguided as it was,” he said stiffly.
On some level, Adele felt for the first time that she had a common understanding with him. It was a liberating feeling, releasing some of the tension, confusion and anger. It may not address the future and all its uncertainty; he’d said he didn’t know what he was going to do, but she felt like it did address the past and many of the grievances they had. She didn’t want to fight with him, or be constantly at odds, tension gripping her every time he was near.
Leaning back, his gaze returned to the passing landscape outside. It even seemed brighter outside as the Italian countryside passed before them.
They passed into Switzerland and then into France, their slow progress back to London moving relentlessly on. Lysander dined each meal with Adele, and before long they were invited to dine with other travelers as well. Sometimes he wished travel wasn’t such a social activity, but everyone sought amusement and diversion from the tedious hours with nothing to do but watch the landscape change—a diversion that finished when the sun went down.
Adele spoke competently of current topics, sometimes things she wouldn’t have learnt at his country house at Devon. He came to realize that some of the things she knew where from keeping company with that man. Jealousy stole into him at those points—along with the knowledge that she would likely still be with him if he hadn’t been unfortunate enough to succumb to a tropical disease.
She’d stated that she’d been happy with that man, and she never had been with him. It wasn’t surprising; he’d never so much as tried to nurture their marriage, having been too distracted with how it came about and the things he’d lost because of it. Perhaps he had made a mistake all those years, ignoring her and refusing to develop any relationship between them. This was a new thought; he’d regretted the misery that his actions in this marriage had caused her, but he’d never considered the loss to himself.
As he sat watching Adele talking animatedly with a couple from Rochester, he wondered how this marriage could have turned out differently. He knew it was his fault; he saw that now. He’d had no intentions of changing the nature of their relationship at the time she’d chosen to abandon him; he would have continued in exactly the same fashion. He’d even been angry at her death for changing the continuity of his current life, which waited for him back in London—Harry, Evie and Isobel, along with his clubs and his schedule—the life of an unencumbered bachelor, without the tedious designs of matrons on his bachelor status. But he wasn’t a bachelor and he never had been. And now his life was confusing. He was dragging her back and there would be unpleasantness whatever he chose to do. He didn’t want to be cruel to her; he had fully admitted that he had been at some points, where his anger had focused on her as the cause for all his misfortunes—while she’d never been the cause for their marriage. She’d had even less choice than him. Her resignation and acceptance of the marriage used to grate on him and he blamed her for her lack of objection to any of it—just accepting it in her steadfast and unassuming way. But then her subsequent actions had proven that she hadn’t accepted it, but was opposed to his consistent rejection of their marriage, hers had expressed itself explosively with abandonment of station, marriage and propriety, all at once.
Chapter 15
Adele sat in the upstairs parlor of Lysander’s London townhouse, a delicate teacup in her hand, resting on her lap. The house was quiet. They’d arrived last night and she stayed in the bedroom she’d only spent the night in a few times during her marriage. Lysander had gone out after having been remote and distant this morning as she joined him for the morning meal.
She felt the oppression of the house weighing down on her. It wasn’t the house as such; it was their whole history. It was easy to forget when they were traveling and away from here, but now they were back. She drew a shuddering breath and let it go. She was back in London.
A knock attracted Lysander’s butler to the outer door.
“Is she here?” Isobel’s voice could be heard from downstairs. The butler directed her to the parlor and Adele heard the rustle of her dress as Isobel came up the stairs.
“Oh my dear, I cannot believe it. You are here. We were told you had died. It was so awful, but here you are.”
Adele rose to embrace her friend, feeling relief that Isobel hadn’t rejected her. She would understand completely if Isobel refused to see her ever again.
“It is so good to see you,” Adele said, her eyes speaking more than she could manage to say in words.
Isobel sat down. “I have so wondered if I told you the wrong thing,” she said. “I felt like it was my fault.”
“You only told me the truth and it was what I needed to hear.”
Adele felt herself tear up and she fought the tears. Isobel went to comfort her, but Adele turned her attention to the tea service, not wanting comfort to make her feel even more distraught. Comfort was not what she needed right now, she needed distraction. “How are the boys?”
“They are well; getting older like all of us. Andrew thinks himself in love,” Isobel said with an eye-roll.
“Does he? I would have thought he was much too young.”
“Yes, well, you would think so, but he insists. He really is too young. She is a nice girl, but one doesn’t quite know one’s heart at seventeen.” Isobel accepted a cup of tea. “I do hope he is treating you well.” The conversation turned back to Lysander and Adele felt her teariness return. She refused to cry; she’d done too much of it and had sworn she was done.
“We are civil,” Adele responded. “We’ve had a few spats, but on the whole, we are not ripping each other apart.”
“Have you decided what you are to do?”
“Lysander hasn’t informed me.”
“He is a brute. I will have words with him.”
“On the whole, he hasn’t been entirely brutish,” Adele said, and with the one exception she couldn’t quite explain, he hadn’t.
“Yes, he is, my dear. You have always been too forgiving of him.” Isobel took a sip and placed the cup down. “Is he to petition for divorce?”
“I have asked, and he says not.”
“He might simply be contrary. He is sometimes, when he doesn’t get what he wants. I think he must, dear. You are more than welcome to stay with me when he does.”
Adele looked over at her friend, amazed that she was taking this all in her stride. Adele knew that her actions would have caused gossip and conjecture that would have affected Isobel. “How did I get so lucky to get you as a friend?”
“Through the sheer bad luck of marrying my nephew.”
Isobel said farewell shortly after, leaving Adele to her musings—particularly Isobel’s belief that Lysander would have to divorce her. Her means and her status in society would be stripped back to nothing. Divorced women were hidden away in the remote countryside, ignored by even the local society. Isobel’s offer to take her in would be generous.
The shunning by society wasn’t, for her, the primary concern. She’d accepted that outcome when she’d left Lysander. But it was the loneliness she feared. She had suffered from it in Adelaide, even though her life had been her own. There were the other girls at the boarding house, but they weren’t family.
She knew she couldn’t go back to Adelaide. The fact that she had lied about being a widow and then been dragged away by her husband had ensured her acceptance back to Adelaide would be a long time coming. She had actually hated lying about her identity and wouldn’t want to do it again. If she was to be divorced, she wouldn’t have to—she would have freedom, but little to do with it.
Their days settled into a routine. They would dine together in the mornings, then spend the entire day apart. Adele would stay in the
house and Lysander would spend every waking moment away from it. Isobel visited every other day, providing an hour of distraction to the long tedious days. Each day Adele expected Lysander to come and inform her of her fate, but the end of the day inevitably came and there was no change indicated.
In early evening, Adele searched through the books in Lysander’s library, searching through the volumes that interested him. A few years ago, she would have gone through this entire library to learn what topics drew his attention. There were more books on adventure and discovery, a few which must have been boyhood favorites. She ran her hand down the spines of the well-worn books from his childhood, trying to imagine what he would have been like.
A noise distracted her and she turned away. Lysander was coming down. She knew he was in the house, dressing for the evening. He’d hardly spoken to her since they’d got back. Book in hand, she moved to the stairway to started ascending, passing him in the process as he headed downstairs to leave the house. He nodded slightly as they passed.
“Lysander,” she said, turning to him. He stopped his descent further down the curving staircase and turned back to her. He looked well in his dark formal evening wear and she wondered where he was going, but dismissed the thought—it didn’t matter.
“Have you decided what is to be done?” she asked, needing an answer one way or another. He had said he wouldn’t divorce her, but Isobel was sure that he would. “Am I to stay here in your house? Are you to send me back to Devon?”
Lysander looked uncomfortable. “As I have told you, I am unsure how to proceed.” She suspected it was a substantial thing for him to admit uncertainty, going against his pride. “I am not being cruel by my lack of action. If I were to send you to Devon, I have no assurance you would stay there. Can you give me such assurance?”
Adele moved uncomfortably from one foot to the other. She wanted to give him assurance, but she also knew that life in the large empty house would be unbearable—soul-destroying.
Lysander saw her uncertainty and his features drew together in a frown. Turning to leave, he started descending the stairs again, but Adele wanted to stop him, to discuss this further. She still had no end to her situation.
“Lysander,” she called again. He stopped at the base of the stairs, looking up at her.
Adele wrung her hands in front of her. She started talking, but it came out as a mumble.
“I cannot understand what you are saying.”
She cleared her throat. She was shaking like a leaf and tried to steady herself. “I cannot stand this emptiness,” she said. “I understand that you will do what you must. I made choices and I am prepared to deal with the consequences. But I cannot be placed in a box and forgotten.”
“What do you want me to do, Adele? If there is some way I can make this more bearable, I would.” he said, losing a bit of the control he showed most of the time.
“I want...” she started. “Please give me a child.”
Shock registered on his face, then his face darkened. He went to say something, but stopped.
“I need something to love,” she said in a rush. “Whatever is to come, a child would make anything bearable.”
The silence stretched on and Adele searched Lysander’s eyes, but he turned abruptly and strode out the door. Adele didn’t know if she had offended him. She wasn’t sure she cared—they were beyond cordiality and needed to speak of basic needs at this point. It was a necessary topic. This might be the last chance she’d ever have to have a child, a family. From his perspective, it didn’t matter if they divorced—a child was his. There was always the possibility that he would keep the child from her, but she didn’t think he would be that cruel. She could raise the child, and he would have his heir—unless, of course, he wanted his children to be borne by his future wife. The idea of a woman replacing her was confronting, but she also wanted him to be happy. She wouldn’t begrudge him happiness.
It didn’t look as if he took the proposition well, but then again, he hadn’t said no. At the very least, she’d made her desire known. It was now the one aim she had, but she needed him to give this to her.
Chapter 16
Lysander sought out Harry in the reading room. He’d headed straight to the club after Adele’s request, which had been so unexpected, he hadn’t known how to react—sending his mind spinning and leaving him with an uncomfortable rush in his veins. He didn’t know what to make of it; he couldn’t quite grasp the implications. He needed to think.
Harry’s displeasure at the news that, despite clerical errors, his wife was indeed still alive and currently residing in his house, had been obvious when they’d met a few days earlier. Lysander had entirely skipped the part about Adele knowingly letting the clerical error stand and absconding to Australia with the intent of deceiving everyone. It was an additional strike against her and Harry had quite enough as it was.
“And how is the strumpet today?” Harry asked over the top of his newspaper as Lysander sat down. Lysander bristled at the reference, even though he understood Harry’s disregard and disrespect—driven by his judgement of her actions, but they were not an apt description. She was complicated, but she wasn’t a common strumpet.
“When shall you divorce her?” Harry asked.
Looking away, Lysander ran his nail down a seam in the armrest leather. The idea of divorce was whirling through his head, along with her proposition. An heir—it was an important issue.
Harry was watching him. “You must divorce her,” he said and Lysander sighed. He knew Harry was set against her and would probably never change. Infidelity in women was unforgivable in his book, no matter what the preceding situation was. In all honesty, Harry wasn’t the greatest enthusiast of the gender, with the exception of his own wife, whom he loved more than he’d ever admit, but he was still the only person Lysander could discuss his issues with.
“She has asked for a child,” he said, straightening in his chair.
Harry folded his newspaper, placing it on the table and intertwined his hands together in his lap. Harry was silent for a moment, likely as shocked as he had been.
“I suppose the idea of an heir has some merit.”
“I have waited longer than most.”
“But is she the person you want to breed one on?”
“I certainly don’t want to rush into another marriage.”
Harry rubbed his chin and then sighed in a similar fashion as Lysander had a moment earlier. “If you had an heir, you wouldn’t need to marry again.”
“I would go as far as to say I lack certain talents in the wife management department.”
“Yes, well, this time, she would be your choice.”
Lysander wanted to shake Harry sometimes; tell him that there was nothing wrong with Adele; that it was just the situation that was bad. Not that it mattered; Harry wouldn’t change his mind once it was made up. And he had determined to despise Adele.
Harry sighed again. “If you must breed an heir on her, you have to be seen with her. Otherwise people will suspect that you are passing off one of the by-blows of that man.”
Lysander took onboard what Harry was saying. It would be hard for him to present them as a reconciled party to all of London. It would damage his reputation further, but he had a duty to his name to produce an heir, and he also felt as if he had a duty to Adele to provide her with an outlet to her motherly instincts. Why must everything related to this whole situation be so difficult?
If he was honest with himself, and he succinctly refused to be, there was a certain excitement about the process involved. The need for an heir would supersede his obligations and he could lie with his wife. As much as he refused to admit it, there was a heady excitement about the prospect. She was in essence the most forbidden woman. He almost wished this would have occurred to him back in Venice; it would have made a much less depriving few days. Venice had brought his youth back to him, and the freedom he’d felt then. His young self would have put all the consequences and implicatio
ns aside, and would have succumbed to his wife’s charms, probably have spent the two days in bed with his wife—likely wouldn’t have let her see any of Venice at all.
Still, the idea felt dangerous. There was a certain danger to her. She had a gift for putting him in awkward positions, whether it be the public embarrassment she caused him or the highlighting of his own shortcomings. In the end, he always ended up feeling uncomfortable and disconcerted. He didn’t know how exactly, but he would end up paying for this, if he did it.
“An heir now would give you complete control of your life. You could marry or not at your own leisure,” Harry said. “I think the idea is growing on me.
Lysander had been afraid of that, because he’d hoped Harry would tell him a concrete reason not to do it—that the costs would be too high, but if he couldn’t convince Harry, he would have trouble convincing himself.
Adele sat by the window watching the shifting weather outside. It was rainy today, so she couldn’t even spend some time in the garden. She wished she was able to go for a walk, but Lysander hadn’t been keen on the idea when she’d broached the subject one morning. She did understand his reticence, but equally, the benefit of having been hidden away in the country for years was that she had almost complete anonymity in London. She could walk around Hyde Park without stares and whispers. Although she knew that she wasn’t inherently interesting; her actions had made her so, particularly if it became known that she’d tried to fake her own death. That would make her the gossip of the town. It was a topic Isobel had avoided.
If she was going to stay here, she needed to do something with her time, but this didn’t feel like home; she felt like she was an unwelcome guest in Lysander’s house. And for that reason, she couldn’t settle, which unfortunately left her with little to do on a rainy day.
The familiar feeling returned—waiting for Lysander. She was waiting for him to return without having any idea when he would. She was waiting for him to answer. Waiting for him had been the norm, the central pivot of her life, the point her world was structured around.
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