An Absent Wife

Home > Other > An Absent Wife > Page 18
An Absent Wife Page 18

by Oster, Camille


  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 rang 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 flared.

  “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?

  Chapter 27

  Lysander’s foul mood stuck with him as he left the house early the next day. Isobel’s suggestion had been creeping around his mind all night. Things were just moving too fast. If Isobel had her way, the carpet would be ripped out from under his feet before he knew what was going on; actually, not the carpet, his wife. He still had some say in his own marriage and he just couldn’t understand what this sense of urgency was all about.

  He was also a bit disappointed in Adele. If she wanted to leave his house, she could have come to him and spoken her wishes. He wondered if Isobel and Adele had been colluding behind his back—leaving him completely in the dark as to what their intentions were. He didn’t like it one bit.

  It was too early for alcohol, even for the way he’d been drinking of late. He settled for ordering a tea service when he arrived at the club, joining the elderly gentlemen who frequented the club in the early hours of the morning, before most were even out of their beds. With a huff, Lysander sat down and opened the paper in front of him, but he just couldn’t focus. His mind didn’t want to seem to settle of late, making him useless in terms of surveying his investments.

  He recognized that he was deeply unhappy and unsettled at the moment. Divorce was not turning into the simple thing he’d expected—a celebration of freedom. Things were much more complicated. Then again, Adele hadn’t turned out to be the woman he’d though she was either. This hesitancy he’d developed was robbing him of peace of mind—as was the withdrawal of the welcome into her bed. The idea of making his barring permanent and irretrievable was uncomfortable. The divorce would rob him of a way back there if he chose.

  He was hesitating on the divorce because it forbade him from ever again sleeping with his wife, which was ridiculous, but there was truth in it. It sounded callous and immature even to his own ears, but he knew that it wasn’t just about the sex—the divorce would end any potential for establishing a relationship with Adele. He stopped himself from saying re-established, because they’d never had one. But they had rubbed along quite well for a while—maybe even to the point where it had been what he thought a marriage could be, and if he let it go now, he was letting go on the very idea of marriage. Contrary to the beliefs he’d professed to
Adele a few days back, in practicality, giving up on the institution wholesale wasn’t something he was completely embracing, it seemed.

  Harry’s arrival made Lysander realize that he had no idea how long he’d sat there, musing over his own troubles. “The fog has finally cleared,” Harry said as he sat down.

  “Has it?” Lysander hadn’t even noticed the fog when he’d walked over here this morning.

  “Pea soup.”

  “How is your wife?” Lysander asked.

  “Fine, I suppose. She wants to visit her sister in Bournemouth.”

  Lysander could tell by Harry’s tone that he wasn’t excited about the idea. While Harry didn’t readily profess his love for his wife, it was there, in sufficient quantities to make him apprehensive of her leaving him on his own for a month. “Perhaps the sister could come to visit her here.”

  “I’ve suggested that, but Lucinda came here last year and Clara feels it’s only right that she go to Bournemouth this year.” Harry surveyed his nails for a while. “Evie came to see me.”

  Lysander’s eyes snapped to his friend’s, utterly dismayed with this development. Evie had no right to seek out his friends to discuss the state of their affairs.

  “She’s worried that you are being manipulated.”

  “And seeking you out would not be an example of the behavior she is so worried about?” Lysander said icily.

  “It is just that you seem hesitant to do what is required.”

  Lysander was too angry to have this discussion. He couldn’t believe Evie felt it was her place to interfere in his marriage, particularly when he’d made his views clear. “How is it that everyone seems to think I am incapable of dealing with my own marriage?”

  “Because you’re not doing what needs to be done.”

  “Needs to be done in whose mind? Yours? Evie’s? Since when do you have a say?”

  “That tart is whispering things in your ear.”

  “She is my wife! I will not have you speaking ill of her!” Lysander roared, loud enough to draw the attention of everyone in my room. “What she whispers in my ear is categorically none of your concern. Is it my business what Clara whispers in your ear?”

  “It is if Clara behaves like your wife does.”

  “You know nothing of my wife.”

  “Yes, I do. You are the one who seems to have lost all perspective and everyone seems aware of it other than you.”

  “I’ve had enough of this,” Lysander said, rising from his chair. “Don’t ever speak of or about Adele again.” Marching out of the room, Lysander waited impatiently for his coat to be brought. He had to get out of there—not even his club was safe anymore. He was running out of places to go.

  He’d be damned if he was going to let anyone tell him what to do, and the idea of them sneaking around his back, colluding to force his hand raised pure fury in him. It felt it like a clear threat—a threat to his marriage.

  Lysander stopped dead as he walked down the street. He was fighting for his marriage, he realized—fighting Isobel, Harry, Evie, even Adele, to protect his marriage. Clarity finally struck: he didn’t want this marriage finished. It was obvious now; he’d been avoiding every step that would bring this marriage closer to its end—the petition papers, Adele’s movement to Isobel’s, the retreating of intimacy between them. It wasn’t just about choices; he wanted this marriage to realize the potential he’s discovered it could have.

  He had two choices in front of him, a future with a wife and a child, or a future alone with manipulative women like Evie for company, and Harry constantly telling him how lucky he was that he gave away his one opportunity to have a life with his wife and child.

  Turning his thoughts to Adele, he saw her in his mind with that rare smile she gave when he’d pleased her, and then to the even sweeter evenings they’d spent together. Looking back, they’d just about had what he’d wanted. He hadn’t known it at the time, but things had just about been perfect. Adele was the perfect wife; she was giving, somewhat independent, intelligent and willing to explore new things—her kisses touched places deep in him and her body sent heat flowing along his spine. Why was he giving that up?

  Turning toward his house, he realized he needed to talk to her. It was all just so simple. His step was light for the first time in ages, the heaviness that had weighed him down seemed to have lifted—and it solved all the problems.

  Adele wandered along a deserted path in Hyde Park. The day was finally clearing; the heavy wetness in the air lifting. The weather made for a solitary walk, which is what she preferred, especially now when her thoughts were heavy. Lysander’s vitriolic reaction to Isobel’s suggestion sat uneasily with her. She couldn’t understand his objection and why he wasn’t promoting it himself.

  Her thoughts were distracted by the sound of the gravel crunching behind her. Someone was coming, apparently in a bit of a hurry, too.

  “Adele,” Lysander said when she turned around.

  “Lysander. I wasn’t expecting you here. Has something happened?”

  “In a manner of speaking.”

  “I hope everything is fine,” she said with instant concern.

  “I went home, but you weren’t there. I wanted to have words with you.”

  “About?”

  He looked nervous. “The last few months, as we have spent a considerable amount of time together, it has shown us that this marriage can be tolerable to us both, and as you are now carrying our child, it seems natural that we carry on as we are.”

  Adele’s mouth opened involuntarily. “We have managed out of sheer necessity.” She watched him, trying to understand what he was implying, which seemed to be that they keep going like they have been for a while longer. It sounded like an awful idea to her.

  “Necessity often serves as a good foundation.”

  “No it doesn’t, particularly not for us, Lysander. I live as a guest in your house, in a city I don’t want to be in. I didn’t even want to return to England. Why would we extend this further?” she exclaimed. Lysander looked taken aback. “We’ve been married six years—.”

  “Seven,” Lysander interrupted.

  “...and in all that time, we’ve shown quite clearly that we are not well-suited.”

  “I don’t think that is true.”

  “I don’t know what it is that gives you sentimental feelings, whether it is the idea of a child, but let’s not fool ourselves—we do not belong together.” Adele felt tears threaten her, prickling her eyes. It was cruel of him to suggest that they continue, and to dismiss all the hurt and rejection she felt for years on end. “Whatever it is you’re feeling, it will pass; it is some kind of sentimentality that has asserted itself, but we do not fare well together.” Adele turned sharply and marched away. Her tears threatening and she needed to shed them in private.

  “Adele, stop,” he said to her retreating back. She wasn’t stopping; she needed to get back to her room and shut herself away. “I order you to stop,” he said firmly.

  She stopped where she was, taking a moment to calm before turning around. “You have no right exerting your authority over me.” It wasn’t true; he did have the right, but not the moral right.

  He ran up behind her. “Adele,” he said softer. “I know that I have been an awful husband.”

  “No, Lysander, we are awful together.”

  “That does not mean we cannot try to do better.”

  “Lysander, you forced me, in Adelaide.” She saw shock on his face; it darkened and crumpled.

  “You have not forgiven me,” he said in a stark, even tone. “I have apologized for it countless times. You are unable to forgive me.”

  “It’s not that, Lysander. I haven’t forgiven you because I never felt the need. You forced yourself on

  me and I didn’t mind, because it was the only time you would touch me. That is how pathetic we are. This isn’t a normal relationship and there is too much water under the bridge to pretend that it is, or even could be. For years I wished you
would acknowledge me and in my mind, it seems that I would accept anything, even force.” Lysander stared at her with shock written on his features, which only went to prove her point—he had no idea how she felt. Closing her eyes, she gave a slight snort. “Let’s end this now. I have tried again and again to move away from this, from all the misery that this marriage has wrought, and I do not want to be dragged back, yet again.”

  He didn’t object this time when she walked away. Tears flowed continuously as she made her way back to the house in short, sharp strides. A passing man tried to offer her assistance, but she moved right past him. It was rude, but she couldn’t deal with anyone at the moment. She knocked incessantly on the door until Jamieson let her in.

  Lysander didn’t return to the house. Adele wearily listened for him, but he didn’t follow. Shaking her head slightly, she took a seat in front of her mirror; her face red and puffy. Whenever she managed to gain some equilibrium, he could come along and smash it. She recognized that his intentions has been well, in his mind, but he was so completely deluded—they couldn’t just put their past behind them and forget about it; it didn’t work that way. There was too much there—hurt, anger, resentment, to ever allow them a normal relationship as husband and wife.

  Sighing as deeply as she could, she awkwardly grappled the ribbons of her corset, throwing the garment away from her onto the floor. The delusion went both ways, she admitted; she wore the damned corset so she would cut an appealing figure and there was only one person she would do that for, and it wasn’t Isobel. She’d been deluding herself just as much as he, trying to continuously be presenting herself in the best light, still seeking his approval and attention. This had to end now, before they let this run further.

  Chapter 28

  Adele had slept uneasily that night. Their conversation in the park had run through her head all night, even in her dreams. At times, she would have regrets in how she’d responded; she could have just said yes and try to forget everything that came before, but she wasn’t sure she could forgive herself in the end if it turned out to be yet another stop on this miserable journey—and chances were high that it would. Until the day before, Lysander had been adamant that he didn’t want to be a husband, and with the exception of this moment of doubt, his actions had consistently proven his statement true.

 

‹ Prev