An Absent Wife

by Oster, Camille

  Adele walked back toward him. “She says the fashion runs to dark, heavy fabrics.”

  “I doubt anyone would know the fashion better than she.”

  “She is getting a dress,” Adele said, looking slightly uncomfortable. The woman returned with a dark bundle on her arm and waved Adele over to the curtained dressing area, where she disappeared into the hidden places only women went. Lysander looked around the store and out to the street. This dress would be dear, but he didn’t begrudge her—feeling slightly ashamed that his wife didn’t have the appropriate dress for such entertainment.

  He wondered what entertainment Lieutenant Ellingwood took her to and if he provided her with the dresses she needed. Perhaps they spent all of their time in bed. A mere lieutenant wouldn’t have the means to provide her with the entertainment and wardrobe that he did. He couldn’t help competing with this man, for which he had the compelling and unfair advantage of still being alive.

  The heavy curtain drew aside and Adele emerged, wearing a dress made of dark velvet. Her skin looked creamy pale in contrast and his breath drew as she emerged. She looked lovely as she took her place on the pedestal and women surrounded her, adjusting the dress to suit. The dress had short sleeves and her bare arms rested at her sides as she let the women do their work. The intention of the dress was that she wear long gloves with it, covering up her arms.

  “It pleases, yes?” the proprietess asked him. She was justifiably smug in her presentation and creation. He nodded slowly, not distracting himself for long from his wife’s form, feeling himself tightening. It was just a dress, but the effect of it was stunning—the dark color which countervened the prevailing brighter daytime colors in mode at the moment. The neckline at her back was lower, subtlety revealing pale skin on which a wisp of escaped hair lay, teasing.

  “It will do,” he said. “Will it be ready for this evening?” The woman made a wincing noise, which he knew was part of the negotiation process. Adele was measured, pinned and outlined while he finished the negotiation for the dress, for which the French woman drove a hard bargain, because they both knew he wasn’t leaving without purchasing the dress.

  He waited while Adele was taken to the back of the store to dress again, watching out the window where the weather was darkening.

  “I wasn’t aware a ready-to-wear dress would be of such quality, but it is a lovely dress. Thank you,” she said and he turned to her.

  “You are welcome.”

  “The dress needs some gloves,” she said and moved toward a display.

  “Yes,” he agreed following her to stand by her, to survey the selection. She picked up a set of long, dark silk gloves.

  “Do you think anyone will notice that these are not an exact match? A lighter green would also go well.”

  “Or these,” he said picking up the gloves that were a similar colour to her skin.

  “You think these are better?”

  “They are tempting.”

  “Tempting?”

  “The color of skin, but not skin. A representation of the skin underneath, of the hidden—showing what is there, but impossible to touch.” His thumb stroked along the silk of the gloves in his hand. “A bit of cruelty.”

  “We are not cruel,” she said and reached for the gloves with her already gloved hand hiding her skin away, forbidding accidental touch.

  “Aren’t you?” He didn’t relent his grip on the gloves as she made to take them. Her eyes sought his as they stood impossibly close in an innocent exchange. The amusement of their exchange shifted to something else, something more grave. “I never meant to be cruel,” he said quietly. Her eyes moved away from him and he yanked slightly on the gloves so they snapped back to him. “I do know that much of the responsibility lies with me.” His eyes moved lower. He wanted to kiss her and she was close enough that he could just reach down and kiss her. It might not be entirely appropriate, but she was his wife—except she was the wife he was divorcing, which meant he really, really shouldn’t.

  She broke away first, clearing her throat. “I appreciate you saying that,” she said, turning her attention back to the table. “I think I perhaps need some binoculars as well. I understand they are an encouraged accessory.”

  Lysander felt the loss of the moment, as it slipped away and the reality of the place and circumstance returned. “Of course,” he said, looking around to see if the appropriate accessories were available here or whether they had to go elsewhere.

  Chapter 20

  The dress arrived after supper. Adele had worried all afternoon that it wouldn’t be ready in time, but there it was. It had arrived in a large paper box and the maid had carried it up to her room.

  Adele was both nervous and excited for the evening. She also felt light because Lysander had essentially apologized to her and she had accepted his apology, believing him when he said he hadn’t intended on being cruel.

  The maid laid the dress out, then came and assisted Adele with her hair. Once on, the heavy fabric of the dress kept her firmly encased, the material feeling lush and rich under her hands. She looked beautiful, the darkness of the dress making her skin glow. She donned the long gloves and Kathleen helped with the little buttons at the wrists.

  Taking one last look in the mirror, Adele left her room, wondering if Lysander would be moved by her gloves, which he said teased and forbade. As much as she urged herself not to, she wanted him to be moved by her, for a dull ache for him had settled deep in her belly and she couldn’t shake it now. She hoped he would come to her tonight.

  “The dress suits you,” he said as she entered the parlor. She saw appreciation in his eyes and she flushed slightly, feeling breathless in the tight bodice. “Are you ready to leave?”

  Adele nodded and followed him as he walked to the door. He looked handsome in his formal evening wear, reminding her of the young man she’d met so many years ago—arrogant and confident, assured of his place in the world. He still was, she supposed; hers was a little less so, but she was content for the moment. She checked herself as he helped her into the carriage—she shouldn’t get used to this; it had a specific purpose and it wasn’t to pretend to be like this, because they weren’t merely a husband and wife out for an evening’s entertainment.

  The carriage was dark inside, with the only light intruding from outside as they passed.

  “Will Harry be there tonight?” she asked. She hoped not. Harry made her withdrawn and uncomfortable. Beneath his politeness, there was no doubt what he thought of her.

  “No, he has other plans.” Adele hid her sigh of relief and then pressed her hands together to hide her nervousness, which only escalated as they drew near.

  The theatre was brightly lit, with handsome couples walking into the building—and she was about to be one of them. The reception hall was covered in rich carpet, gold candelabras and murals on the walls depicting dramatic scenes from well-known plays. The ceiling was high like a church and there was a pervasive hum of conversation. She had never seen so many finely-dressed people in one place and had to stop herself from gawking as Lysander moved her into the space.

  She stepped closer to him as he stopped and greeted someone, suddenly feeling shy. These people would all know what she did and she knew Lysander was being judged on her actions. She suddenly felt the weight of the embarrassment and ridicule he’d felt, and appreciated that he would suffer this for the sake of the child they were hoping for.

  The man was saying something about a property he’d purchased. He had great big whiskers for his sideburns, giving an odd shape to his face. His wife was elderly, covered in a brown silk dress that was ill-fitting. She seemed kind though as she smiled at Adele.

  “Are you looking forward to the evening?”

  “I am,” Adele responded. “It is my first opera.”

  “Oh.”

  “I usually prefer the country.” That wasn’t strictly true, but she didn’t want to cause Lysander embarrassment by calling their history and relationship into q
uestion.

  “Understandable,” the woman said. “But the delights of the city do call on occasion. I hope you find the evening enjoyable.”

  “I am sure I will.” As far as conversations went, that had gone well enough. Whatever the woman thought of her, she hid it well; although she looked kind enough to perhaps overlook indiscretions. Adele liked to think so anyway.

  They were moving on, amongst the crowd of people. There had never been so much finery and jewels in one room, she thought.

  “Are you fine?” Lysander asked.

  Adele let go of her tight grip on his arm. “Of course, I’m sorry. It is very crowded. I am not used to such crowds.”

  “It always is. For most, it is the true purpose of these evenings—to greet and be seen.”

  “Do you know most of the people here?”

  “Yes.”

  “I only know you, I think.”

  He was going to say something, but another man’s presence interrupted him and he was drawn into conversation. Adele surveyed the room, watching the women and the men, all dressed to impress each other. In this dress, she didn’t feel out of place; she felt she was well up to standard. And then they moved again.

  “Lysander,” another man said. “Excellent evening. You know my wife, of course. Of course you do, you’ve known each other for years, haven’t you?” Adele’s attention was drawn to the couple, particularly the woman who seemed to have known Lysander a long time. She bore the confidence of someone who had always belonged in this society and who had never had occasion to question her station.

  “Alterstrong, you look well,” Lysander said.

  “And who is this?” the woman asked, turning her attention to Adele, her voice strong and crisp like a bell. This woman was beautiful. She had golden hair and blue eyes, all complemented by a dark orange dress; its material catching every light in the room. “Is this your wife?” The woman’s attention turned questioningly back to Lysander. “My word, I never thought we’d see the day. I am pleased to make your acquaintance. My name is Cassandra.”

  “Adele,” she responded, nodding slightly. The woman’s renewed survey make Adele feel uncertain. “Lys had always told us you existed, but we had started to disbelieve him, but here you are. And such a pretty face.” Cassandra threw another look at Lysander before returning her attention to Adele. “That dress is stunning, my dear.”

  Adele flushed slightly at the compliment and Cassandra’s attention returned to Lysander, and started talking about some event they’d held. She was animated and absolutely charming. She called Lysander ‘Lys’, Adele noted. The tension in Lysander drew Adele’s gaze to him. He watched the woman’s hands and when Cassandra placed her hand on his arm in a familiar fashion, he held his breath.

  Frowning Adele watched his reactions to this woman and then suppressed a gasp as she wondered if he’d had an affair with her. She watched them for a bit longer, watched as this woman turned her attention back to her husband. No, it didn’t fit. This woman was teasing Lysander.

  “It was good to see you, Lys, wasn’t it darling?” she said to her husband, who mumbled agreement, which Adele guessed he always did to his wife’s suggestions. “Perhaps it might not be a bad idea to have you over for dinner sometime, especially now that your wife has turned out to be more than a phantom.”

  Adele smiled at the comment, not really knowing what else to do. Lysander nodded awkwardly. “Of course,” he said. Perhaps Lysander agreed with everything she said as well. Her manner seemed to indicate that she expected her demands to be followed.

  The bell rang and everyone’s attention simultaneously turned to the stairs. Obviously they were being asked to take their places in the theatre itself. Adele didn’t feel like moving, there was something preying on her mind, demanding attention. She couldn’t quite identify it, but it sat in the back of her mind burning—something important.

  “Come,” he said and held out his arm for her, and they moved toward the stairs. When they started moving up, Lysander’s eyes moved to Cassandra’s form as she ahead of them.

  It struck her with certainty and finality. It was the only thing that fit. “You’re in love with her,” she said quietly.

  He ignored her or didn’t hear her, so Adele repeated her understanding again.

  “Don’t be ridiculous.”

  She stopped moving, her mind on fire with the implications of what she’d learnt. Thoughts were rushing around, competing for her attention. She tried to search for answers in his eyes. They were holding up the migration upstairs and Lysander urged her to move.

  “Please don’t lie to me,” she said to him.

  He looked around feeling uncomfortable. “It was a long time ago. Now come. This is an awkward place to stop.” She let him gently pull her forward and down the hall toward their booth, which was dark when they walked through the heavy curtains, coming out to a place with two gilt chairs and a view over the loud and vast theatre. Taking her seat, Adele watched as Lysander sat down next to her, a tight expression on his face.

  “Are you in love with her?”

  “Of course not.”

  “Were you in love with her when we married?” Adele asked, watching him intently.

  “Adele, please,” he said in low tones. He wasn’t looking at her.

  Adele gripped her hands tightly in her lap. He had been in love with another woman when he’d married her. So much of their history made sense now—his anger and rejection. It dawned on her that she’d never stood a chance at his affections. He must have hated her. Both of their lives had been wasted by this marriage and throughout he’d pined for another woman.

  The burning shock inside her gave way to sheer desolation. She’d caused him endless degrees of suffering and she’d had absolutely no idea. She had dashed his hopes and dreams, leaving him with a burden he couldn’t abide looking at.

  The lights were being extinguished and the stage was prepared. Adele pulled out the little binoculars she’d bought for the occasion and once the singing started, she brought them up to her face to cover the tears that had started flowing. She tried her best to remain silent.

  The truth was bitter, but it answered all the questions she’d had. It also confirmed that there had never been any hope.

  “Do you wish to leave?” Lysander asked quietly after a while and Adele nodded. She didn’t want to be there. She wiped her tears with her gloved hands, feeling the stains soak into her fingertips and tried to smile. “Come,” he said and rose.

  Chapter 21

  Adele woke up to a dark and cloudy day, which seemed to suit her mood. She wasn’t entirely sure what it was about the previous night that had shaken her so much, but it had. As much as she’d tried to convince herself that she was over her misguided loyalty to Lysander, the idea that he had been unavailable and suffering in their marriage had hurt tremendously. It felt like something had died—finally broken irreparably.

  But she couldn’t quite shake the melancholy of its aftermath; it clung cloyingly to her and everything around her. She would recover from this, she knew—she hoped. She wasn’t entirely able to see her future at this point, but she knew she would be fine—she just needed to recover from this. He had been right to hide this from her. If she had found out a year ago when they’d still had a live marriage, at least in her mind, she would have been absolutely devastated. It was hard enough to deal with it now that their marriage was effectively over.

  Adele’s thoughts returned to the woman she’d met last night—Cassandra. The woman Lysander had been in love with, and to whose presence he to some degree still reacted. She could see what would have attracted him; the woman was so entirely assured of herself and her position—two things Adele had never been. She’d never truly belonged to the society of her husband and he’d hidden her away. She’d always thought her origin in trade had driven his actions, but the answer was actually worse.

  Cassandra was married and Adele tried to turn the situation over in her head, to find a way for
Lysander to be with her, but the truth was that he’d lost the chance—she was married, and seemingly, happily so. Adele felt pangs of discomfort and guilt as she thought of it. As she knew from experience, living as man and mistress had some severe drawbacks, but a man and woman who belonged together sometimes needed to be with each other, marriage convention or not. It did hurt her to think that the Alterstrong marriage would have to disintegrate for Lysander to be happy, likely causing the misery of Lord Alterstrong in the process. Why couldn’t people just be happy? Why must someone always get hurt when love was involved?

  A knock on the door disturbed her. “Adele, are you there?” she heard Isobel’s voice. Adele tried to smile as Isobel entered the room. “What’s the matter?” Isobel rushed over to the chair beside her, taking her hand with a look of grave concern in her eyes.

  “Nothing,” Adele said with a quick smile she didn’t have the energy to maintain. “How are your children?”

  Isobel was watching her intently, unconvinced by the change in subject. “You look unwell.”

  “I just had trouble sleeping last night. I am a bit tired.” It certainly was true; she hadn’t slept at all. “I think I should go for a walk. I know it’s not the best weather, but I think I need some fresh air.”

  Isobel looked out the window with concern. “It’s drizzling, but we can go for a walk, I suppose,” she said with a tentative smile.

  It was definitely not walking weather, but Adele couldn’t sit here having her mind being picked apart at the moment. “I think I need to stretch my legs.”

  “I am sure Lysander has some umbrellas,” Isobel said and went downstairs. It was a mad idea going for a walk, but Adele would go mad if she stayed in the house right now—she needed to breathe.

  Lysander’s man managed to produce two umbrellas and a coat for Adele from somewhere. They stepped out onto the wet, grey street and slowly walked toward Hyde Park. The streets were completely deserted, with only the odd cart or carriage going past.