An Absent Wife

by Oster, Camille

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 customary 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.

  Chapter 25

  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 envelope 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 parchment 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 to 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. You 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.

  Chapter 26

  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.