An Absent Wife (11 page)

Adele took her usual seat at the shady side of the ship, where she preferred to spend her days.  Everyone knew where to find her and now that she knew well the people traveling with them, she didn’t mind so much when people stopped to chat as they took their exercise or wiled away their boredom.  She knew the circumstances and intentions of everyone on the ship.

“It appears
we will part company soon,” Mrs Callisfore said, sitting down in the other chair.

“We are?” Adele said with confusion.

“It is only a few days until we reach the Suez and I will be continuing on to Jerusalem, I have decided.  I thought it would be a shame to pass this way and not stop by.  Have you ever been?”  Adele shook her head.  “You should make that handsome husband take you.”

Smiling
tightly as had become customary at the mention of her husband, Adele ran her gloved finger along the spine of the book she’d put aside.  Mr Ellingwood was the kind of man who would be happy to stop somewhere to just explore, but that was not her situation now.  “I am not sure the heat agrees with Lord Warburton.”

“What are your plans, dear?”

Adele realized that she had absolutely no idea.  She hadn’t even realized they were going through the Suez, or that they were so close to it.

“I am no
t sure. Lord Warburton does all the planning.” 

Mrs
Callisfore reached over and patted her hand.  “I do hope you will come see me sometime.  You are such a lovely girl and I would very much like our acquaintance to continue.”

“Of course,” Adele said with a
more genuine smile.  Visiting Mrs Callisfore was one thing she could plan for her future.  Surely Lysander wouldn’t refuse her request.  Feeling her smile slip a bit, she forced it back.  She was to stay married to him; he’d refused her a divorce.  “That would be lovely.”

“I suppose this ship wil
l return to Australia now,” Mrs Callisfore said.

Adele hadn’t realized the ship wouldn’t continue.  She had to ask Lysander to tell her what their plans were.  She’d believed the ship was taking them all the way to England, but it seemed to be returning.  Leaning back, she contemplated the idea of returning to Australia with the ship, but she knew Lysander wouldn’t allow it. 
Misery bit at her heels, but she refused to give into it.  She was going back to London and if lucky enough to find someone who cared for her again; she would just have to take Lysander’s suggestion and find her happiness with more discretion.  It hadn’t actually been a recommendation of his, but she couldn’t continue like she had been.  If there was one thing she’d learnt it was that she was responsible for her own happiness.

Adele took Lysander’s arm as he walked her to the salon to dine that evening, a habit they had done in silence quite a few times since they’d had their argument. 

“
We will be traveling through the canal soon,” she stated.  “Will we travel straight to England from there?”

“No,
we will disembark in Venice, from where we will continue north by rail.”

“Oh,” she
said, realising that they would be in Europe very shortly. 

She wanted to
beg him to let her return to Australia with this ship, but she already knew what the answer would be, and her question could very well invite a further candid revelation of their feelings.  She saw no purpose in it; she’d revealed her feelings in sufficient detail last time, and the truth was that he didn’t care.  He’d been perfectly clear when he’d said his concerns were exclusively for duty.

“How
long will we stay in Venice?”  As distressing as the thought of Europe was, the idea of seeing Venice was exciting.  It was one of those places she’d always wanted to see—one of the unique places on earth with a convergence of history, culture and beauty.

“We are leaving as soon as we arrive.”

“But it is Venice, aren’t you curious to see the city?”

“In all honesty, this was never meant to be a trip to explore European cities; I went to retrieve the effects of my deceased wife.  I am not about to go gallivanting around an Italian city.”

Closing her mouth, Adele looked away.  She wondered if he would highlight her crimes from now on in response to every request she put to him.  Any ounce of joy and excitement and he sucked it out of the air.  “Of course,” she said, letting go of his arm, feeling like she needed some distance.  There were times when it was simply too hard to even act the part of dutiful wife.

She
ensured to smile broadly as they entered the salon.  It was time to perform—a duty ingrained in her from earliest girlhood.  She wondered at the idea of not doing it; of refusing to act the part and admit to all of these people here that not only was her marriage in an atrocious state, she’d run away from her husband and he was now returning her to the prison he kept her in.  She could well imagine the shocked faces of the people present—probably more so for the honest confession over the reality of her situation.  Honesty was not done—one did not wash one’s own dirty linen in public, no matter how bad the true situation was.  One never admitted dislike or discord with anyone, particularly not one’s husband.  These things were borne with grace.

They’d changed ships in the Port of Tawfiq, just at the Red Sea entrance to the Suez, having said goodbye to some of their acquaintances from the steamship; people Lysander had grown used to seeing every day over the last few months.  Adele had said a fond goodbye to some of the friends she’d made on the trip, particularly Mrs Callisfore, who had made Lysander promise to send Adele to see her when they were back in England.  The woman was skilled at putting things in a way that he couldn’t refuse, so he’d had to say ‘Of course, at Lady Warburton’s opportunity’.

They had transferred to the other ship without incident and it was immediately noticeable that the smaller ship, able to travel through the canal, was much less stable in
the water than the large steamship, but otherwise equally comfortable in essence.

He had born
e Adele’s disappointment for a few days now; a slight chilling in her regard, as if he’d confirmed to her that she was right about him.  It made him feel ungenerous, and he didn’t like it.  He had never been ungenerous in his dealings with her, but then her requests had never had any kind of real impact on his life and schedule, signifying a delay to his plan.

He found her watching the sights of the canal pass before them—the foreign land that slowly and silently passed by, with its desert landscape and strange peoples. 

“I suppose we could stop one day in Venice if you wish,” he said as he reached her, taking her slightly by surprise.

She turned to him.  “
That would be wonderful. I have always wanted to see it.”

“It is an interesting city, I suppose.”

“Have you spent some time there?”

“Yes, in my youth, before...”  He was going to say ‘you’,
but stopped himself.  “We went—a group of us—over a summer.  We traveled around Italy and France.”

“I wasn’t aware,” she said, watching him.

“It was a long time ago.”  His mind traveled back to a wonderful summer he’d spent in Southern Europe with his circle of friends.  It had been the best time of his life and he hadn’t thought about it for a long time.  All possibilities had been opened to him then and he’d been unaware of the realities of his future.  “This time of year is not the best time to see Venice, of course.”

“It doesn’t matter,” Adele said.  He could hear excitement in her voice and he felt an irrational sense of pride having brought her pleasure and a slight flush to her face. 

“We’ll arrive in the morning; spend one night in Venice, then take the train the next day.”

Adele’s excitement
was evident in her movements.  She squeezed his arm slightly in gratitude—he expected it wasn’t an action she’d been aware of.

It was a cold and rainy day when their ship sailed into port in Venice.  He’d been right; it was a less than suitable day to go gallivanting around Venice, but Adele didn’t seem to be put off.  She was dressed and ready when they sailed in, and they stood and watched over one of the railings, while the crew did their bit to prepare for arrival.

“It’s beautiful,” Adele said.  Lysander didn’t say anything.  He wasn’t exactly dreading the day, but neither was he relishing spending a rainy day sightseeing.  Sighing, he decided he would see about getting them a pair of umbrellas.  He’d sent directions to the staff to secure him two rooms at one of the finer hotels and they would see to the conveyance of their trunks and belongings.

Stepping onto the wet stone quay at Venice port, he turned to assist her off the gangway.  As every port he’d seen—and he’d seen a few of late—Venice port was active and busy irrespective of the rain.  They walked for a while before he found a general merchants store, where he purchased two umbrellas that would functionally serve to protect them from the rain.

“Are you sure you want to spend the day here?  We can go straight to the train.”

“Of course I do.  It is only a little rain.  I wouldn’t forgo seeing Venice for a little rain—a flood maybe, but nothing short of that.”

“Then come this way,” he said and urged her toward one of the smaller canals leading away from the port.  A gondola waited for customers; its owner wrapped up in a heavy cloak.  The man uncovered a bench at the center of the sleek, black vessel and Lysander held Adele’s hand as she stepped onto its unstable floor.   “Caffé Florian,” he said to the man.

The boat moved smoothly through the quiet canals.  It certainly wasn’t busy on a day like this and the smell of the city was washed away and suppressed with the rain, leaving the whole city looking shiny and clean.  Adele’s eyes were large
, taking in the sights of the ancient city.  The only sounds were that of running water as it ran down spouts along the canal.

Lysander had never actually
been outside in Venice during weather like this, having spent the rare rainy day inside during the summer he’d been here.  The city appeared deserted, like it was there for them to explore on their own.  A few shops were open, lights shining out of glass windows, but only the rare person hurried along outside, seeking refuge from the rain.

The gondola took them down a maze of canals over the dark green waters until they reached the
Piazza di San Marco.  The square was deserted and the only sounds were their own steps across the stones of the square.  Adele stopped to survey its beauty.

“That is the Doge’s Palace,” she said
, pointing at an ornate building occupying an entire side of the square.

“Yes, but let’s bolster our resolve with some refreshments first.”  He urged her toward the cafe along
another side of the square.  “Then we can explore.”  She turned back to him, a broad infectious smile across her features.  “Come.  We will eat first.”

They were shown to a table at the cafe he’d been to numerous times before.  It was sparsely visited, compared to how it was in summer, when it was full of tourists, including, invariably, people he knew from London.  Over the su
mmer he’d spent there, it wasn’t unusual to run into groups of people from his own wider circle of acquaintances as they visited the city.

He ordered pastries, ham, eggs and coffee—a hearty morning meal that would see them through the day.  The rain persisted outside as they sat near the window.  The dampness of the day made water condense on the windows inside the warm restaurant.

“Thank you for taking me here,” she said again.  “I do realize it is not a wonderful day for seeing Venice, but I will never forget that you gave me this opportunity.”  Taking in the décor of the café, her face was flushed from the chill outside and her lips were the color of a blooming rose.  If he cared to admit it, she looked enchanting as she tore a piece of pastry, placing it in her mouth before bringing the small cup of coffee up to her mouth.  “I don’t normally drink coffee.”

“It is what is done here.”  He took a sip of the thick, dark liquid
, letting it coat his mouth and warm his tongue.  The food was delicious, and when they’d finished, he could see Adele watch longingly out the window.  “Well then, shall we proceed?”

“Yes,” she said with obvious excitement.  Opening the door, he led her outside into the atrocious weather.  Their umbrellas were still waiting outside and the patter of the rain could be heard
on them as they walked out from the covered walkway.

“Do you want to see the Doge’s Palace?”

“I would love to.”

Walking through the Palace’s sumptuous halls for an hour, they would occasionally encounter another couple, but for the most part, they had it to themselves.  Adele turned to see the pictures on the walls and the frescos on the ceiling—the treasures of the Church and another age.  The rooms had a musty smell and after a while, he grew tired of the gold leaf and endless paintings—Adele drew his attention more as she tried to take in the overwhelming sights of the place. 
Reaching out, she touched a statue tentatively, feeling the texture of it.

“Come, let’s walk outside for a while,” he suggested.  She turned to take his arm, joining him silently.  For a second it seemed like they belonged together.  He was getting used to having her at his side.

Lysander breathed in the fresh air when they reached the outside.  It was still raining and they reclaimed the umbrellas, before picking a street at random and heading down its narrow walkway, past shops and restaurants. 

It felt like they were the only two people in the world, and he was surprised at how comfortable he felt in her company
for once—perhaps because her attention was completely absorbed by their surroundings.  Her skirt was getting wet, but she didn’t seem to notice.  He wondered if he should cut this excursion short, but then felt he shouldn’t be such a spoil-sport—neither of them were children and a bit of rain, for one day, would do no harm.

They walked down alleys, across squares and across bridges.  He’d lost track of where they were and they headed down narrow alleys that sometimes opened to
small squares, and sometimes led to dead ends at the edge of some canal.  The architecture was varied and foreign—uniquely Venetian.  They got lost in the maze of the city, before reaching the Grand Canal where they had to navigate down the canal to find the Rialto Bridge.

They weren’t going anywhere in particula
r, just walking down random alleys to see where they went.  It felt like a private audience with a city put on display just for them.

Adele’s eyes were caught by the
jewelery in a shop window.

“Venice is known for its glass,” he
stated.

“My mother had a
jewelery box that came from here.  I don’t know what happened to it; I think it went with the estate.  I thought if I saw something similar, I would get it.”

“Then let’s look inside.”  He opened the door for her.  He would buy her whatever she wanted.  It would please him to, perhaps as an acknowledgement that they had a day where they functioned well together.

Her attention seemed drawn to a silver box with glass covering the top, a flower motif melted into it.  He nodded to the clerk, who wrapped the box, before handing it over.  Placing it in his pocket, Lysander paid for the trinket.

Adele had turned and was looking at some masks that were lining the wall of the shop.  They almost seemed life-like as they stared out from the wall, some of them beautiful, some grotesque.

“It is forbidden to wear those, I believe,” he said.  Adele turned to him, her blue eyes seeking his.  “Carnival masks.”

“They still sell them.”

“To tourists mostly.  The craftsmanship is still appreciated, and if one must go to a masquerade, there is no alternative to a genuine Venetian mask.”

“Do you have one?”

“Yes, somewhere.”  They stepped out into the rain again, the sound of it insulating them from the rest of the world. 

“Could you imagine if they still had the carnival here?”

“It would be the biggest attraction in the world.”

“I wonder why they stopped it,” she said.

“It was almost a century ago.  It was mandatory to wear the masks at one time; one could be arrested for refusing.”

Curiosity and disbelief flittered through her features. 
“Truly?”

“A strange concept,” he continued, “a time of year when one had to live without one’s identity—in complete anonymity.  Poor or rich, all were stripped of their identities—to exist without past or social structures for a time each year—without any consequences.”  He’d been told the history of the carnival in great detail when he’d been here before; i
t had appealed and fascinated him greatly at the time.  He’d been young and he’d wished for it to still be done in these streets. “Nothing of what you were mattered when you walked the streets during carnival; you could be anyone, do anything—no matter how hedonistic.”  Adele’s attention turned to him.  “The structures of marriage didn’t matter, nor the confines of position or office.”

“Then how would one know who one dealt with?”

“One didn’t.  The purpose of the masks was to hide it all,” he said.  A slight frown flashed through Adele’s features.  “Any impulse could be acted upon, if you wanted.  And people did, sometimes without discretion—which is why it was outlawed in the end.”

“It seems like madness.”

“Or liberating.”  That was how he’d seen it—complete liberation.  But he’d been young then, looking for diversion and excitement.

She was watching
him as they had stopped in the middle of the street, and she stood there holding her umbrella, looking at him intently.  He noted her slightly parted lips and the breaths that fought the tight confines of her corset.  He wondered what she would do if she was here during carnival, suspecting that her appetites were more daring that he’d ever expected of her.  He wondered how far she would go—if she could be convinced to have intimate relations with a stranger in the streets of Venice?

Clearing his throat, he looked away—dismissing the pictur
e his mind was trying to form for him.  “How are your feet?” he asked.

“Truthfully, they are getting a bit sore.”

“Then perhaps we should find our hotel.”  She nodded at his suggestion.

It took him a while to orientate himself, but once he did, he knew exactly where the hotel was.  She walked ahead of him down the narrow alleys, and now, later in the day,
the attraction of the buildings of Venice drew his attention less than the woman walking ahead of him.  He watched her straight spine, wisps of her hair escaping their confines and caressing the pale and thin column of her neck, the curve of her back and the swing of her wet skirt when she walked—the complicated woman in front of him—further complicated by the long and unpleasant history between them.  Just the idea of her was loaded with resentment and grievances, but if they put that aside and he viewed her abstractly, she was quite lovely.