by Debra Diaz
“Thanks,” said Caroline shortly. “But I’m not going to settle for anyone but you.”
Upstairs, Genny gave a last pat to her hair and turned toward the door of Ethan’s bedroom. No, our room, she thought, looking around at the masculine furnishings with a vast contentment. Hearing a strange woman’s voice, she paused before she began to descend the stairs. It was dark where she stood, but the hall below was lit softly by gaslight. She saw Ethan and a tall, dark-haired woman walking together toward the front door.
“All right, you don’t leave me much choice,” she heard Ethan say. “I want to see you once a month, at least. More often, later on. But I don’t think it would be wise of you to come here again.”
The woman paused and looked up at him, the light falling full upon her face. Genny’s hand went involuntarily to her mouth as she recognized her. She moved back against the wall and watched as Caroline pressed closer to Ethan and murmured, “I, for one, never hold grudges. It’s charming to think that you’ll be there holding my hand, Ethan darling.”
Ethan took his wallet out of his pocket, drew out some bills, and gave them to the woman. She stared at him for a moment, then bent her head to push the bills into her reticule. She stood on tiptoe and kissed Ethan on the lips, drawing back before he could move.
“You will see me?” he asked. “You won’t change your mind?”
“No. I won’t change my mind, and maybe it’s better this way. And thank you for the pearls.” She looked up at him, smiling. “When you put them on me, it was as if — as if you were really giving me something much more.”
Ethan opened the front door and Caroline took her departure, pausing on the porch to turn back and give a coy little wave. “Until next month, darling!”
He shut the door, stood still for a moment as if in contemplation, and then walked back toward the parlor. He never saw Genny standing upstairs in the shadows.
CHAPTER FIFTEEN
Waves of cold fury induced a violent shivering in Genny’s body. She whirled and returned to the bedroom, where she sat down in a chair, waiting mindlessly for the shock to subside, waiting for the quick onrush of humiliation and hatred. And it came.
Oh, to be married so short a time and find out that one’s husband is a cad — worse than a cad! Tears of rage sprang to her eyes. She leaped up and began to pace about the room, going from corner to corner and staring wildly at the walls, as if she wished she could tear them down, claw them to pieces.
He had used her! Her mind went back over the words he had spoken. She couldn’t recall some of them — exactly — but it was all too clear what sort of relationship he had with that woman! He had married her, Genny, so that he could have a respectable wife, someone who could meet the requisites of society, but he’d kept his mistress. He had given her pearls, he had given her money. Payment for services rendered! The complacent, conceited rogue!
Genny sat down again, her mind spinning in circles. The angry tears continued to course down her cheeks. A memory came back to her, one she thought she had forgotten, of something that had happened when she was little more than a child.
She and her mother and Clarissa had been out in their open carriage one summer day. There had been a lot of traffic in the street, but Genny had seen another carriage, had seen her father inside it with another woman, a plump, blowsy woman with a heavily-painted face. Genny had been thirteen years old at the time, old enough to have some idea as to what kind of woman she was. Young Genny had been shocked, crushingly disillusioned, and it didn’t occur to her then, nor did it now, that there could have been some other purpose (such as a bank loan…) for their being together.
Were all men like that? Did they not know how to be committed and faithful to one woman?
She’d permitted Ethan to touch her, not only in the physical sense but in a much deeper and more lasting way; he had pierced through the wall she’d erected around herself when she was very young. He had broken through the bricks she had so carefully laid and reached a vulnerability, a tenderness. And he had betrayed her.
“Trust me,” he had said…
She felt as though something were going to snap inside of her. It was horrible, this feeling, as if her nerves and tissues had frozen into ice, and yet her blood ran hot and scalding in her veins. She rose and groped in a drawer for a handkerchief. She hadn’t known she was crying.
Gradually, her heart slowed its awful drumming and her limbs stopped shaking. Sanity returned to her benumbed brain and she began to think in a cold, calculated way. No, Ethan would never have the satisfaction of knowing that she minded in the least whom he consorted with. She would retain her pride and her silence, and someday she would get even.
She would be cool and polite — she would be the perfect wife in all respects, save one. He would never touch her again.
It seemed, as she stood there, that the world changed. It no longer seemed fit for habitation; life had no meaning. Inanimate objects could bring no comfort, and humans could not be trusted. It hurt so much to live…what was the purpose of it? A moment ago she’d been happy for the first time in her life, and now, at nineteen, her life was over.
The door opened and Ethan came in. The room was dimly lit, but he saw at once that something was wrong. He went to her and laid cool, strong fingers on her cheek and looked into her eyes.
“What is it?” he asked, with a concern she knew to be false.
“I — I’m ill. I’m coming down with a cold.” She noticed that her voice was hoarse, as if she’d been shouting. “I’m not going down to supper.”
“Genny — ”
“Please go ahead. I just want to lie down for a while.”
“I’ll stay with you.”
“No, please, Ethan. I shall probably go to sleep.”
His brows drew together in a puzzled way as she stood waiting for him to leave. “Can I get you anything?”
“No, thank you.”
He hesitated for another moment, and finally said, “I’ll have Agnes make you some soup.”
She nodded — anything to get him to leave. When he left the room she hurriedly disrobed, put on her nightgown and got into bed. Not long afterward she heard him coming up the stairs. The door opened, letting in a ray of light from the hall.
“Genny?” he said softly.
She didn’t answer. He came around and stood looking down at her for a moment, and touched the pulse in her throat. She could feel it beating rapidly. He straightened the blankets, kissed her on the top of her head, and left the room.
Her wall was going back up, brick by solid brick, and this time it would be impenetrable.
* * * *
Ethan seemed preoccupied the following morning at breakfast, as Genny observed him brittlely over her coffee cup. Valerie remained silent; Geoff was absent. A clank of pots and pans came to them as Myrtle Mae worked in the kitchen. Agnes was dusting in the hall, humming and occasionally singing the words to “Believe Me, If All Those Endearing Young Charms”. Agnes loved to sing and often did so with gusto, never quite achieving the right pitch. Any other time Genny and Valerie would have looked at each other and smothered giggles over the housekeeper’s musical outburst. Now Genny could only reflect on how tragic it was that she would never again find anything funny.
Genny watched as Valerie sent Ethan a cautious glance. Valerie knows, she thought, with a pang of mortification. And when Valerie looked toward her with an expression she could only interpret as pitying, it was more than she could stand. She got to her feet with a clatter of cup and saucer and marched from the room.
She was standing before the window in the office when Ethan came in. She whirled about when she heard him come up behind her.
“What’s wrong, Genny?” he asked quietly.
She turned away with a look of cool aloofness, walking over to stand beside the desk. “I — I’m tired of this job. I think you’d better hire someone else.”
He stared at her incredulously. “What has come over you?” he de
manded. “You’re behaving like a complete stranger.”
“Nothing’s come over me. I just don’t want to work anymore.”
“Genny — ” He began impatiently, but the arrival of a patient prevented him from any further inquiries. He gave her a penetrating look, which she ignored, and she seated herself behind the desk.
The remainder of the day was too hectic to allow further conversation between them. Late in the afternoon, Ethan was summoned to the hospital. At least, she assumed he went to the hospital. It certainly seemed possible that all those late nights he had not been working!
Genny wasn’t idle in his absence. She removed all of her clothes from the wardrobe in his room, which had only just been placed there, and carried them into her former bedroom. One by one, all her belongings disappeared from one room and appeared in the other. She felt a moment’s consternation when she considered what Ethan’s reaction would be. But then she stiffened her shoulders and sniffed, “Let him roar and rage all he likes — I’m sure he’ll find comfort elsewhere.” Then she sat in a chair to await his arrival.
She must have dozed, for she heard nothing until her bedroom door opened and his footsteps sounded across the floor. He was turning up the lamp on the table. His eyes were two dark flints of gray.
“I’m just home for the hospital and I’m not in a very pleasant mood,” he said, in a low voice, “so without further ado I’d like to hear your explanation of what you’ve done.”
“There’s nothing to explain. I want my own room, that’s all.”
“I see. But didn’t you think I might consider it rather odd? Did you not have a reason all prepared to give me?”
“Must I have a reason to choose where I want to sleep?”
“In view of the fact that you are my wife, yes, you do.”
“It’s just that — everything has happened so fast. I can’t get used to it. I need time.”
He stared at her during a lengthy silence. Finally he spoke, in a flat, wry voice, “It’s a little late for second thoughts, Genny. And definitely too late for an annulment.”
His words brought a thrust of pain to her heart, so great and unexpected a pain that she burst into tears. Now he looked bewildered.
“Is that it? You felt forced into our marriage, and now you want out of it?”
She shook her head helplessly and put her hands over her face. He reached out to touch her, and she leaped to her feet, backing away from him. “Please just leave me alone! I need to be alone.”
He stood there for a moment, watching her. She made herself stare back at him, because if she looked away he would come to her and put his arms around her, and then…
He turned and walked toward the door, but stopped as he reached it, and his voice was tight and exasperated. “You shall have your time alone, Genny. You have until the limits of my patience are met, but not even I know how long that will be. And on that day, madam, you will be required to give a full account of yourself, and prove to me beyond the shadow of a doubt that you do not wish to be my wife. And if you succeed, we will make our plans accordingly.”
* * * *
A light snow fell on New Year’s Eve. She and Ethan went to a party, but had to leave early because someone had slipped on the ice and broken his leg. She soon learned that the wife of a doctor had much to endure. There were constant interruptions, constant demands on his time. This was certainly agreeable with her, for the less she saw of her husband, the safer she felt. He had adopted an attitude of “I’m waiting for you to come to your senses”, and was polite but distant. His air of innocence infuriated her.
If only she had never known happiness with him — if only he hadn’t made her believe that he loved her! She remembered now that he had never actually said those words. But he must love that woman, if he had continued a relationship with her all these years. He was keeping his vow to give her time to sort out her thoughts, but she sensed that time was running out.
Geoff and Valerie moved into a smaller house, not far away. She was glad of that, too. She couldn’t stand their pitying glances. Of course, they knew all about Caroline Adams. Valerie had claimed she didn’t know much about the situation, but obviously she’d been lying, too. And Geoff had shown contempt for the woman that evening Genny had found her photograph.
A woman was hired to replace Genny in the office — a thin, forty-year-old spinster aptly named Miss Permelia Pickel, for she had a sour face and a sharp manner. She moved her meager belongings into one of the extra bedrooms and was rarely seen or heard from, taking her meals in her room, but she was efficient and apparently tireless. Nor did she balk at assisting Ethan when he was setting broken bones or stitching up wounds. However, she didn’t have the mind for mathematics that Genny did, and Ethan was always finding mistakes in the ledger.
An early spring made Genny restless and eager to escape the house. It was on a breezy March day that she and her friend, Josephine Hawkins, decided to spend the afternoon shopping. They ate lunch at an outdoor café.
“If only the wind would stop blowing,” Genny said irritably, snatching at her napkin. “I think we should have eaten inside.”
“But, it’s such a beautiful day — Genny, do you know that man?”
Genny peeked over her shoulder. “What man?”
“He’s gone around the corner. He looked at you and seemed rather surprised, as if he knew you.”
“Probably one of Ethan’s patients. They can be a nuisance, you know. Be smart and never marry a doctor.”
“Genny, you’re the luckiest woman in the world to be married to Dr. Carey! Why, half the women in this city had set their caps for him.”
“I daresay,” Genny replied, making a wry face. “Didn’t I hear that Jack Boone had called on you, Josie?”
“Yes,” Josephine said shyly. “I hope you don’t mind, since he’s one of your old beaus.”
“Of course not! I’m an old married woman now. But Jack is very nice. I’m happy for you, really I am.”
Genny looked down at her food lest Josephine see that she wasn’t really happy at all. They finished their lunch, and Josephine decided to go home.
“Mother hasn’t been feeling well. I worry about her sometimes. I’m supposed to go next week to visit my uncle’s resort in the mountains, but I don’t know if I should go or not.”
“Maybe your mother will be feeling better by then. It sounds like a wonderful trip.”
“Why don’t you come with me, if I go? Oh, Genny, we’d have such fun!”
“Maybe I will. Oh, there’s Finney — you must let him drive you back, Josie. I want to go to Slater’s. I’ll walk to the end of the street and hire a cab when I’m through.”
“Oh, no, Genny, I can’t take your carriage!”
“I insist. I really want to walk. Now do as I say — I’m an old married woman, remember?” They giggled and hugged each other, and Josephine departed with Finney.
As soon as Genny entered Slater’s department store she was halted in her tracks by a booming female voice. “Why, I do declare, it’s Mrs. Carey, isn’t it? How are you, my dear?” The speaker was a red-haired, generously-endowed matron of about fifty. She seemed to fill up the entire aisle with her wide hips, jutting bosom, and huge plumed hat. Her old-fashioned bustle poked out at an alarming angle.
“I’m very well, thank you, Mrs. Van Ness.” Genny smiled in spite of her momentary irritation. “And how are you?”
“Oh, well enough, I suppose. Though I’ve an appointment to see Dr. Carey in two weeks — my dyspepsia, you know. We’ve missed you in the office, my dear. Everyone says so. The new woman — what’s her name — Miss Pickel? She’s capable, I’m sure, but she hasn’t your charming personality.”
“That’s very kind of you.”
Mrs. Van Ness peered sharply at her, endeavoring at the same time to give her a sympathetic look meant to encourage confidence. “We are sorry to lose you. Tell me, my dear, was it just too much work for you?”
“Well, as it wa
s, I scarcely had any free time.”
“We thought, that is, some of the girls and I, that you are perhaps in the family way?”
Ah, yes, what a tasty morsel that would be for the “girls” to pass around, Genny thought. That Dr. Carey and the widowed Mrs. Stuart had to marry quickly because they’d been indiscreet.
“I think not,” she replied, holding on to her smile. “But then, perhaps it’s too soon to tell.”
“Well, I thought you might have an inkling.” Mrs. Van Ness laughed but looked disappointed. “Well, I must go along. Walter is waiting for me outside. He detests shopping with me, you know. It was delightful to see you. Good afternoon, Mrs. Carey.”
“Good afternoon.”
The older woman turned and made her ponderous way down the aisle, nearly bowling over a slender stock boy who scampered quickly out of her path. Genny tucked her packages more securely under her arm, and paused to look over some ribbons she wanted to match the dress she’d bought earlier in the day. Mr. Slater, the owner, walked briskly toward her.
“Is everything all right, Mrs. Carey?”
“Yes, Mr. Slater. I’d like to purchase some of these ribbons.”
“Certainly, madam.” He called to one of the shop-girls. Genny wondered if he remembered she’d once asked him for a position in the store, and been turned down. It was rather gratifying to see him now scurry to see that she was promptly waited upon.
It was later than she’d thought when she finally left the store. The sky had become overcast, making the day dreary and dampening her already damp spirits. The streets were almost deserted. She would hurry down to the corner and see if there were any cabs. If not, she would stop at the hospital a couple of streets down and ask Ethan to find someone to take her home in their buggy.
This was his day to make rounds at one of the former military hospitals built during the war for wounded soldiers; this particular one was now being used as an infirmary for the poor. Genny had never been there but had seen it from the outside. It was one of the larger and nicer of the many hospitals that had sprung up in the 1860s, a three-story building of brown brick, with wooden scrollwork at the top and long rectangular windows.