Amherst (11 page)

“Strange, if you like,” said Austin. “Common enough, I think. How many married folk live as strangers in the same house?”

“I mean strange that she should not love you. No, that’s not kind. Who am I to say what goes on in her heart? It must be that she loves you.”

“Why must it be?”

“Because you’re the most lovable of men!”

He took her hand briefly, and then let it go. It was dark, but who knew who might be passing, and might see? Their soft-spoken words, at least, were for themselves alone.

“My wife,” he said, “does not care for me to touch her.”

“Not touch her!”

“All her life, I believe, she’s had a great terror of childbirth. Certainly it took much persuading to venture down that path. When she was expecting Ned, she took certain measures—let’s say, she wanted her condition to be over. She was not successful.”

“This is terrible,” murmured Mabel.

“It’s many, many years since Sue and I have been man and wife in the fullest sense.”

Mabel was shocked.

“You poor, poor man. How have you borne it? I can’t bear to think how you have struggled.”

Austin was moved by Mabel’s sympathy.

“Do you truly understand? I thought this was something that women didn’t feel as we men do.”

“Oh, yes! I understand. I feel for you. How else do we express love except through our physical senses? I see you, I hear you, I touch you. The more we love, the closer we come to each other, until one day there’s no distance between us at all, and we’re one.”

“Oh, my darling. My darling.”

And yet even now, standing on the snow-covered sidewalk on Pleasant Street, he was too shy to follow the promptings of his bursting heart, and take her in his arms. For all the effusions of their secret letters, they had not yet kissed.

“Be patient,” Mabel whispered. “Our time will come.”

•  •  •

When Mabel visited the Homestead, carrying with her the painting of Indian pipes done for Emily, she talked with Vinnie about Sue.

“Why is it that Sue and Austin seem so distant from each other?” she asked.

“There’s no mystery there,” said Vinnie. “Sue’s always had a sharp tongue. Would you want to be married to that old scratch?”

“But she’s so lively! Her house is always so gay!”

“Gay, you call it? It’s empty vessels make most noise. Poor Austin has to run away to us here. You should hear what Emily has to say about Sue! And they used to be the closest friends, back when she was Sue Gilbert.”

“What does Emily say?”

“She says Sue married an establishment. All she cared for was the house. Poor Austin! We’ve watched him shrink over the years, like a starving mouse.”

“How can anyone not love him?”

“You know that, my dear. I know it. Emily knows it. But Sue has her carriage and her children and her parties, and need not trouble herself over Austin anymore.”

“If that’s really so,” said Mabel, keeping her eyes lowered, “would you say he has the right to take love where he can find it?”

“I would say,” said Vinnie fiercely, “that whenever any of us meet with love in this pitiful world, it is our right to enjoy it, and our duty to return it.”

“And does your sister think as you do?”

“Emily respects passion in all its forms.”

•  •  •

In response to Mabel’s flower painting, Emily sent through a note for Mabel, containing a poem.

I cannot make an Indian Pipe but please accept a Humming Bird.

A Route of Evanescence

With a revolving Wheel—

A Resonance of Emerald—

A Rush of Cochineal—

And every Blossom on the Bush

Adjusts its tumbled Head—

The mail from Tunis probably

An easy Morning’s Ride—

That without suspecting it you should send me the preferred flower of life seems almost supernatural, and the sweet glee that I felt at meeting it I could confide to none—I still cherish the clutch with which I bore it from the ground when a wondering child, an unearthly booty, and maturity only enhances mystery, never decreases it—

Mabel didn’t understand the poem, but she thrilled to the hint in the note that Emily felt her to be a kindred spirit. Now she could be sure that she had allies in the Homestead. At the same time, Sue continued to include her in all the gatherings she hosted at the Evergreens. At Sue’s request, Mabel gave Mattie lessons on the piano. And unperceived by either of them, shy young Ned’s admiration for Mrs. Todd grew into a secret passion.

One crisp December day Mabel joined the family, which on this occasion comprised Sue, Ned, and Mattie, on a sleigh ride. They bowled at a great pace down the Sunderland road and over the half-frozen Mill River, their breath smoky in the air, their cheeks pink. Mabel wore a fur-trimmed hood tight round her face, her eyes shining brightly with the excitement of the ride. Ned, who was driving, saw her delight and urged the horses on, until Sue had to call on him, laughing, to slow down.

“You’ll have us all in the ditch, you foolish boy! What am I to
say to Mr. Todd when he returns, if he finds a wife broken in two?”

“What do I care for Mr. Todd?” cried Ned. “I don’t care if he never returns!”

At the bridge they climbed down from the sleigh and threw snowballs over the ice, competing to see who could make their snowball slide the farthest. Ned discovered that the tighter the snow was packed, the farther it slid over the ice. He made a snowball for Mabel, and she threw it, and by a lucky throw it outpaced all the others.

“But it was your snowball, Ned.”

“And your throw,” said Ned. “We are joint victors.”

He took her gloved hand and looked, laughing, deep into her eyes.

“So you see, Mrs. Todd,” he said, “together we can overcome the world.”

Mabel enjoyed Ned’s gallantries without taking them seriously. He was still a boy as far as she was concerned, though in plain figures he was only five years her junior.

On their return to the Evergreens, Ned said to Mabel, “Now, in exchange for my driving I ask for some singing.”

But Austin was waiting. He expressed the intention of going out for a stroll, to see the winter sunset.

“We’ve just got back,” said Sue. “Why would we want to go out again? Make up the fire. Mabel is going to sing for us.”

Mabel was standing by Austin’s side. Austin turned to her.

“I know Mrs. Todd shares my love for sunsets. I ask her as a kindness to keep me company, if only to the end of the street.”

Ned looked round to claim Mabel for the party in the house, and saw the way his father looked at her, and the way she looked
back, and how they both quickly broke the look. There was nothing more to it, but in that moment, with the heightened sensibility of a lover, Ned understood that there was an intimacy between them.

“It’s true that I do love the sunset,” said Mabel. “I’m sure I shall sing all the more sweetly after I’ve watched the day end in all its glory.”

Ned looked on in silence. He saw Mrs. Todd reach for her coat to go out again. He saw how his father helped her to put it on. He saw the door close behind them.

Mattie ran off to find her little brother, Gib. Sue knelt on the rug before the fire to warm her hands. Ned crossed the room slowly, and stood in silence behind his mother.

“That was a fine brisk ride,” said Sue, “but you must take care not to wear out the horses. You know how your father loves them.”

“Do I?” said Ned.

Sue looked round, surprised by his tone.

“What’s the matter, Ned?”

“My father loves sunsets, too.”

“What of it? What’s come over you?”

Ned knew he should say nothing, but he was unable to hold back the bitterness rising within him.

“My father is very attentive to Mrs. Todd,” he said.

“Why should he not be? She’s a charming friend to us. To you most of all, I should say.”

“No, Mother. Not to me most of all.”

“To whom, then?”

“You may choose to be blind if you wish,” exclaimed Ned. “I wish I could be blind.”

With that he left the room.

Sue was not altogether blind. Prompted by Ned’s outburst, she set to reviewing recent events in a fresh light.

By the time Austin and Mabel returned, it was fully dark outside.

“It must have been a fine sunset,” said Sue. “I began to think you were waiting for the dawn as well.”

“We stayed to see the last light fade in the sky,” said Mabel. “And now I’m back and ready to take my place at the piano.”

“I think perhaps we’ve had enough excitements for the day,” said Sue. “We take up far too much of your time as it is, Mrs. Todd.”

Mabel looked at Sue in some surprise.

“You know you have only to ask,” she said.

“What’s the matter, Sue?” said Austin sharply. “Are you sending Mrs. Todd away?”

“Ned has a headache,” said Sue. “I think it would be better if we were quiet this evening.”

“It would be better if we were quiet every evening,” said Austin angrily.

“Please, Mr. Dickinson,” said Mabel, “don’t concern yourself over me. I have so many letters to write. I’ll take myself off, and sing another day.” To Sue, “My sympathies to Ned.”

“Then I’ll see you home,” said Austin.

“Perhaps you can watch the moon rise,” said Sue.

To this Austin gave no answer.

For a while they walked in silence up the street. Then Austin said to Mabel, “I’m not surprised. I had expected something of this sort sooner.”

Mabel, distressed, said very low, “What are we to do?”

“Nothing.”

“I don’t want Sue to hate me.”

“If she believes I love you, then she will hate you. There’s nothing to be done about that.”

“Why must your love for me make you love her any the less?”

“It doesn’t. If anything, loving you makes me feel more kindly towards my wife. But that’s not how Sue works. She’ll assume that any love I give to you is taken from her. Dear God! If only she knew! I have no love for her to take. There has been no love in my life, until you.”

A whisper: “My darling.”

“If Sue starts to hate you, will you stop loving me?”

“Never, ever. But must she hate me? How will that make her happy? I wish we could all love each other. Why can’t she be like David? He understands.”

“How much have you told him?”

“Nothing, and everything. We haven’t spoken of it openly. But we will.”

“I envy you that.”

“Can’t you speak to Sue? Can’t you make her not be afraid?”

“My sweet darling,” he said with a sigh. “Not everyone has your open, loving nature. Sue will see as the world sees. I’m afraid this means we must be even more careful. We must never be seen alone together.”

“Never alone!”

“Not where we can be seen.”

“Where, then?”

“There is one place where we can meet,” said Austin, “where our secret will be kept. We can meet in my sisters’ house.”

“Will Vinnie not think it improper?”

“Vinnie? She’s not a booby like the rest of them.”

“And Emily?”

“Emily is our friend.”

This sent a thrill through Mabel.

“You’ve told her?”

“I’ve told her of my unhappiness. And I’ve told her of my happiness. Emily no longer lives in Sue’s world.”

“I know it,” said Mabel. “When I’m sitting with Vinnie, I can always feel her there. I expect it’s foolish of me, but I do feel as if she’s my friend.”

“Emily knows you’ve given me back life itself. She loves you for that.”

This was what Mabel had longed to hear. Emily had come to represent to her the higher truth that stood in judgment over her actions. Once she had found this in her father. A part of it now resided in Austin. But both her father and Austin, being men, were subject to female charm, and so their approval was not to be taken as without bias. Emily was beyond fear or favor. She had never set eyes on Mabel. She was the Myth. She lived apart, accepting the pain and the freedom of loneliness. For all these reasons, Mabel bowed her head before her, almost in worship. And now, she learned, her deity graciously received her prayers, and smiled upon her.

“I wish so much that I could meet her one day,” she said.

From now on, Mabel was an infrequent visitor at the Evergreens. Mattie ceased coming to her for piano lessons. Ned avoided her. Instead, Mabel took to calling more often on the sisters in the Homestead. And Austin trod the path between the trees, from the side door of the Evergreens to the kitchen door of the Homestead. Now that winter had come, half the house had been shut down, and only the rooms close to the warmth of the kitchen were in use. The parlor couch had been moved into the dining room, and here the lovers were able to be alone together. With
the shutters closed and the new iron stove warming the winter air, they could sit and talk to their hearts’ content.

For all the passion of their words, spoken and written, they maintained a curious formality when in each other’s presence. They called each other Mrs. Todd and Mr. Dickinson. They observed all the customary politenesses. For both of them this was a matter of pride. They wished it to be understood that while their love was illicit, they remained respectable people. It was their pride to claim their love as something finer than the commonplace proprieties of others. Theirs was not some mere abandoned debauch, driven by the base appetites.

This was all well and good, but it made it hard to move on to the next phase. The shift into physical intimacy had, of course, to be initiated by the man. Austin was shy. He had no practice in the business, and was afraid he would be clumsy. He was afraid he might appear ridiculous. And secretly he was not sure Mabel would welcome such a development. Austin had his share of vanity about his personal appearance; in his youth he had been considered a handsome man. But the long loneliness of his marriage had worn away his confidence, and he no longer believed he possessed physical charm. Even now, in this astonishing flood of answering love, it was all rapture of the spirit, with no mention of the body.