An Absent Wife (12 page)

She turned to see that he was still behind her and
smiled, an impulse he’d seen her give to others, but never him.  Watching her turn back, content that he was there, her wisps of hair floated on the air.  He didn’t even know how long her hair was, as he tried to imagine what she would look like with her hair down, flowing around her slim shoulders.  It made him feel heated, but he was soon distracted by their arrival at their hotel. 

They entered a sumptuously carpeted hotel and he announced them to a man waiting to attend, who preceded them toward a set of stairs leading up into the
building.  The hotel was decorated in the same style as the Doge’s Palace, but the themes more related to the history of Venice and less biblical in nature.  The hotel was a Palazzo that had been built during the middle ages, owned by a wealthy Italian family he’d met once.

Their trunks had been delivered and their rooms prepared, he was told.  The man, in his black velvet jacket, ran through the notable people that would be dining at the hotel that evening, and Lysander recognized a few names.  They were shown into two adjoining rooms, and
after seeing to Adele, the man retreated with a sharp bow, closing the door behind him, leaving Lysander alone in the completely quiet room.

Walking to the window, Lysander looked down on the
gray and rainy Grand Canal.  The raindrops pitting the surface of the water across the stretch of the canal. 

Pulling off his wet jacket and trousers, he hung them up on a clothes hanger on a hook in the wardrobe where his
other clothes had already been hung.  It was a few hours until they’d dine downstairs in the restaurant—hours to rest and recover.  He was slightly chilled from the day spent in the rain, but not distressingly so.

Watching t
he rain streaking down the window pane, he lay down on the bed for a while, but he wasn’t tired enough to sleep.  He tried turning his thoughts to the days ahead, put they kept turning back to the day that was.  It had been the strangest day he’d ever had, walking around Venice in pouring rain with a woman who had effectively enchanted him—one he couldn’t touch.  Lying on the bed, he listened to the rain and the ticking of a clock somewhere in the room.  His thoughts turned again to his companion, who was safely consigned to her room, behind the wall in front of him.  He wondered what she was doing.

Sighing, he put his arm back behind his head and considered her.  She’d found pleasure walking around the streets of Venice; he’d indulged her and they had spent an unusual day together.  He couldn’t quite figure her out—too innocent for a villain, too guilty for an innocent.  He didn’t quite know what lay behind the cool, reserved exterior
, but he did get glimpses of it. 

He had wondered
again what she would do if she was free from identity and consequences.  There was no escaping that fact that those two things were of supreme importance, particularly in their dealings together.  She was the faithless wife, the one who had embarrassed him, abused his trust, lied by omission—not to mention the impact on his life when he’d married her.  He was probably going to have to divorce her; her notoriety in London amongst his peers left him with few options.  It wasn’t something he wanted to think about, but there were few solutions to the problems she had created.

But for a moment earlier that day, he’d wanted her.  Heady desire
had suffused him and it still warmed his blood now.  He wasn’t immune to the romance and the challenge of this city—the underlying hedonism that this city seemed to recall.  He almost wished the carnival was still occurring, filling the city’s streets with its possibilities, festivities and atmosphere of anything being possible, without consequence and underlying meaning—just the immediate and most superficial of desires.  If it were, he could seek her out in this magical city and explore this unbidden attraction—without all the baggage and implications of their circumstances.  She was in essence the one woman he couldn’t have, and at the same time, the one he should be spending his desires with—if it hadn’t been for all that had gone before.

But the madness of the city flowed in his blood, heating him.  Sighing, he closed his fists, letting his fingers stroke the insides of his palms.  He desperately wanted to touch.

His thoughts returned to the promise of the carnival, where he would seek her through the streets, find her.  He imagined their ragged breaths as they found a quiet alley, where he could lift her skirts and she would reveal the deeper nature of her, their lovemaking echoing off the witnessing walls.

This mind’s eye shifted, to her walking toward him, wanting him—offering herself.  His hands ached to touch, hold the side of her hips as
she rode him.  Groaning, he placed his wrist over his eyes in an attempt to block the images out.  He had the legal right to knock on the door that adjoined their rooms, but the moral obligation not to.  Only the carnival would free him from those obligations and let him exorcise this desire that had been awakened in him. 

Perhaps this city brought on a madness that filled his mind with thoughts he shouldn’t have and his body with urges he
mustn’t have.  It would pass.  Tomorrow they would be on their way, traveling north, back to London.

The train left Venice station early the next morning.  Adele had left Lysander to organise the details and the hotel had been helpful an
d efficient in moving their trunks to the train, and into their respective compartments.  Adele felt her heart sink as the train moved away from the station; she was going home and she didn’t really have any positive feelings about it.

It was still raining and the skies were grey, reflecting her mood perfectly.  She was sorry to leave Venice; she’d only had a day to discover it, and it had been a day spent in the company of Lysander—which was unprecedented and not as difficult as she’d expected.  It was a place that put ideas in one’s head—a place of excitement and possibilities—a place to be explored with a husband; a true husband—a lover.  There had been moments when the reality of their
situation had snuck away, but it would always come crashing back—the disaster that was their marriage. 

She was done thinking of the disappointment of her marriage; she’d spent years doing that and it had achieved her nothing but heartbreak.  But equally, thinking of the future was just as fraught.  There was only the present, as there had been yesterday, and today, Europe was passing in front of her—the repetitive clacking of the wheels, lulling her mind as it passed.

If she gave into her fears, the day would turn morose, which served no purpose; she was in Lysander’s power—he would decide her fate.  Once she knew, she could plan—try to salvage something of her life.

A knoc
k on the door distracted her and an attendant stood on the other side.  “Lord Warburton wishes to know if you will join him for tea,” the smartly uniformed young man said.

“I will
find him,” Adele confirmed, closing the door with a nod to the young man.  Turning back to her compartment, she wondered if there were any preparations she needed to do, but she couldn’t think of them.  She could have said no, but she felt that perhaps it was best to be agreeable to her husband during the time they were together.  She didn’t want any more strain between them than necessary; things were bad enough as it was.  She would endure whatever was to come, and she would do it with grace.

Walking down the
aisle of the train, she felt her way along the wooden paneling as the train lurched every once in a while.  The dining car was lively, with a table at each window.  She spotted Lysander sitting by one of the tables, wearing a dark-gray suit of impeccable tailoring.  He always dressed well—not perhaps in the latest trends, but with consistent and undeniable taste.  He was looking out the window; she could see his eyes skip as the train moved along.

Greeting him
, she sat down at his table.  “It is a shame that the rain obscures the view,” she said.  He didn’t respond, but turned to the waiter to request a cup for her.  The waiter came and poured a cup for her from the silver teapot.

“We’ll be leaving Italy tomorrow, I believe,” he said once the waiter had left. 
Somberly, Adele nodded.  Each country they left seemed to take her further away from the life she’d run to and closer to the one she’d run from.

“Perhaps the weather will clear up as we head northward,” she said with a
thin smile.  A plate of small sandwiches was placed in front of them, but Lysander didn’t take any, instead returned his gaze to the window.

Adele hadn’t known about his summer in Venice.  It must have been before she’d met him.  He’d been young then—arrogant and confident.  He’d changed over the years; his youth had still clung to him when she’d first met him, but he’d developed into a man over the years; the change obvious each time she’d seen him.  The angry scowl never changed.  It had been gone the previous day, but it was back now.  The conversation equally strained.

“What were your plans in Australia?” he finally asked.

“Just to teach, I suppose.  I hadn’t thought much further.”  The silence stretched.  His lips pursed and his eyes narrowed for a bit,
then looked away.  “Where else did you go when you traveled, the summer you went to Venice?”

“France and Austria, as well as Italy—Venice, Florence, Pompeii and Rome.”

“It must have been an exciting summer,” she said.  She’d never been anywhere until Mr Ellingwood took her halfway around the world, on the most exciting adventure of her life.  This trip back to Europe, would by default, be the second most exciting.  She couldn’t even imagine spending a summer exploring Florence, Pompeii and Rome.  She felt pure envy at the freedom he’d had in his youth compared to her.

“It was, I suppose.
”

“Will we be stopping anywhere else on the way?” she asked hopefully.

“No,” he confirmed and Adele’s hope sank.  “You seem to be quite an enthusiastic traveler.”

“I suppose I am.  It is something I have learnt recently about myself.”

“What else have you learnt?” 

“That I am a half-
decent teacher.”

“Did you enjoy teaching?”

“I did.  The children were wonderful.”  Adele’s thoughts clouded over.  It seemed their conversations tended to draw uncomfortable memories, no matter what they discussed.  She had adored teaching children; having wanted her own for years now.  She’d had mixed feelings on the topic when she’d been with Samson, as her children would be disadvantaged due to their situation, but she’d still been sad when her bleed came after Samson’s death, finally closing the door on a child resulting from their lovemaking.  That was another thing she had learnt about herself—her passionate nature and how she blossomed in the care of a tender man.

She notice
d Lysander watching her, breaking through her musings.  She tried to smile, but it came out too tight to be convincing.

“My aunt will be glad to see you,” he finally said.

“It will be nice to see her,” Adele said brightly, shifting her thoughts to a less confronting topic; although she wasn’t sure how she would be received by Isobel.  “Then again, she might not be so welcoming anymore.”

“She blames everything squarely on me,” Lysander said dryly.  “She thinks I’m a right plod as a husband.”

Adele smiled into her cup of tea.  Isobel had never held back on her judgement of her nephew’s behavior, even when Adele tried to make excuses for him.  But her sympathy might have waned now, considering the actions Adele had taken.

“I am sorry my actions caused you embarrassment,” she said.  “In all that happened, I never purposefully tried to embarrass you.  When
... ,” she didn’t say his name, because she knew Lysander tensed when she referred to him, “... died, I thought it would be best that I did so as well, releasing us both from this marriage.  I thought it was the best thing.”

The muscles in Lysander
’s cheek tensed and he looked away.  He was so difficult to read sometimes.  It was hard to judge what would offend him and what didn’t.  She couldn’t always pick his reactions, and she had no idea how he would react to the present conversation.  Even more confusingly, he seemed to not react at all.

“Perhaps you are not the best to judge such,” he said sharply, after a while.

“How could it be anything but?” she asked, growing more heated, and Lysander gave her a warning look.  She looked around to see if they were being observed.  “For me there wasn’t a choice.”

“Are you telling me
you had no choice in abandoning your marriage and running off with a man not your husband?”

“It was no longer an option staying.”

“Don’t be so melodramatic.  You make do.  I made do.”

“You abandoned our marriage the day after our wedding,” she hissed.  As she
stared, she saw icy anger wash away the heated anger in him.  “We never had a marriage.  We had some pretense of a marriage; a terrible and cruel one.”

His features softened a bit.  “I did no
t purposefully try to be cruel.  Admittedly, there were a few points when we were first married, when I was and I apologize for that.  But on the whole, it was not my intent.  You must understand that this marriage was not something I wanted.”

“You made that abundantly clear.”

“I suppose we both have thing to apologize for.”

“I thought if I died, you would be free to find a marriage you were more suited to,” she said, pressing her napkin to her eyes to stop
the tears that were pricking at their back.

“I acknowledge your intent—misguided as it was,” he said stiffly.

On some level, Adele felt for the first time that she had a common understanding with him.  It was a liberating feeling, releasing some of the tension, confusion and anger.  It may not address the future and all its uncertainty; he’d said he didn’t know what he was going to do, but she felt like it did address the past and many of the grievances they had.  She didn’t want to fight with him, or be constantly at odds, tension gripping her every time he was near.

Leaning back, his gaze returned to the passing landscape outside.  It even seemed brighter outside as the Italian countryside passed before them.

They passed into Switzerland and then into France, their slow progress back to London moving relentlessly on.  Lysander dined each meal with Adele, and before long they were invited to dine with other
travelers as well.  Sometimes he wished travel wasn’t such a social activity, but everyone sought amusement and diversion from the tedious hours with nothing to do but watch the landscape change—a diversion that finished when the sun went down.

Adele spoke competently of current topics, sometimes things she wouldn’t have learnt at his country house at Devon.  He came to realize that some of the things she knew where from keeping company with that man.  Jealousy stole into him at those points—along with the knowledge that she would likely still be with him if he hadn’t been unfortunate enough to succumb to a tropical disease.

She’d stated that she’d been happy with that man, and she never had been with him.  It wasn’t surprising; he’d never so much as tried to nurture their marriage, having been too distracted with how it came about and the things he’d lost because of it.  Perhaps he had made a mistake all those years, ignoring her and refusing to develop any relationship between them.  This was a new thought; he’d regretted the misery that his actions in this marriage had caused her, but he’d never considered the loss to himself. 

As he sat
watching Adele talking animatedly with a couple from Rochester, he wondered how this marriage could have turned out differently.  He knew it was his fault; he saw that now.  He’d had no intentions of changing the nature of their relationship at the time she’d chosen to abandon him; he would have continued in exactly the same fashion.  He’d even been angry at her death for changing the continuity of his current life, which waited for him back in London—Harry, Evie and Isobel, along with his clubs and his schedule—the life of an unencumbered bachelor, without the tedious designs of matrons on his bachelor status.  But he wasn’t a bachelor and he never had been.  And now his life was confusing.  He was dragging her back and there would be unpleasantness whatever he chose to do.  He didn’t want to be cruel to her; he had fully admitted that he had been at some points, where his anger had focused on her as the cause for all his misfortunes—while she’d never been the cause for their marriage.  She’d had even less choice than him.  Her resignation and acceptance of the marriage used to grate on him and he blamed her for her lack of objection to any of it—just accepting it in her steadfast and unassuming way.  But then her subsequent actions had proven that she hadn’t accepted it, but was opposed to his consistent rejection of their marriage, hers had expressed itself explosively with abandonment of station, marriage and propriety, all at once.