Edmund looked down at his wine glass, slowly turning it in his hands. He was acquainted with Lord Delingpole’s directness of manner, and in fact, welcomed an opportunity to speak candidly on a subject that he could not, out of discretion, discuss with most of his acquaintance.
“She is still my wife, my Lord. And will be until death us do part. I have made no enquiries about Mary’s doings because I do not wish to know—I believe I may call myself very reluctant to know—what I may be required to forgive. Were she genuinely desirous of returning to me, it would be my duty to try to forgive her. But my parishioners, the good people of Thornton Lacey—they would tie her to a cart’s tail and flog her through the village. She could never return here.”
“Humph. No doubt their disapproval of her is in proportion to their affection and esteem for you.”
A silence followed, broken only by the crackling of the fire in the grate and the distant sound of servants washing up in the kitchen. At length, Edmund sighed and continued.
“The situation is a complicated one. To effect a reconciliation, I would have to give up this living—the one thing I told her I would never do. Furthermore, I provide a home for my sister Julia. My father feels that the notorious circumstances surrounding Maria’s marriage preclude the possibility of Julia residing with her in Norfolk. Our family name has been injured by Maria’s indiscretion, and my father thinks it best for Julia to stay apart from her sister.”
“What about leaving England entirely? Your wife would welcome a sojourn abroad, no doubt. And you could leave the past behind you.”
“Yes, should the war on the continent ever be successfully concluded, Mary and I might go to live in Italy or Switzerland. The idea is not unattractive to me, either. But were I to do so, I would abandon every duty and family tie that keeps me here. My parents are growing older, my oldest brother has left England, never to return—what am I to do?
“Does Mary know you would not put an absolute negative on a reconciliation? Do I understand you correctly?”
“Yes, but as for her—I have not received one word from Mary since she left me. Her actions conveyed the message that the separation was to be a permanent one. I do not say this to lessen her in your opinion, only to explain—she emptied this house of its contents, as well as my stables. I was left with my own clothes and the horse I was riding on when I came back from visiting my parents. The furnishings you see with me today are all from Mansfield Park. This table used to sit in the breakfast-room there.”
“And I was informed you gave Mary very generous marriage articles—she retained entire control of her fortune. I knew Mary had a mercurial temper, but I did not imagine she could be so ungenerous.”
“One suspects the influence of her uncle, there. He holds me in utter detestation. At any rate, knowing of your long-standing kindness to my wife, I do not ask you to render judgement on Mary or me. Nor have I resorted to the courts, for that matter. I have not asked for a legal separation nor brought suit against anyone for criminal conversation with her—”
Edmund coughed awkwardly, at the acknowledgement that his wife was rumoured to be the lover of Lord Elsham. Lord Delingpole picked up the decanter and refilled his own glass, then Edmund’s, and waited for the young man to continue.
“While I do not hold myself blameless for the rift in our marriage, I think in the eyes of the world, sir, I am the injured party. Yet, if I reunite with her and leave my position here, she gains everything she desired, while I lose everything I built my life upon. She didn’t want to be a clergyman’s wife and she didn’t want to live in the country. Everything and everyone else would have to give way to her inclinations. Would my forgiveness be truly answered by her repentance, in such a case?
“Mary knows she is still my wife, and I am still her husband. I remain frozen in place, sir. I cannot move backward or forward. She knows I am here. Of her whereabouts and her current sentiments, I know nothing.”
And perhaps, I never knew her , he added to himself.
Lord Delingpole leaned back in his chair, and sighed. “Well sir, my wife may be able to shed some light on this question. She has a letter for you from your wife, but it was given to Imogen on the condition you not even be told of its existence unless you demonstrated yourself to be amenable to talk of a reconciliation. I fancy Mary rather expected you to be implacably opposed. She must acknowledge that she abandoned you in the most unfeeling manner.”
“Lady Delingpole has a letter for me—?”
“I believe she has retired early, though. As should I. Good night, Bertram.”
About Lona Manning
Lona Manning loves reading, choral singing, gardening and travel. She has worked as an administrator for several charities. She and her husband divide their time between British Columbia, Canada and China, where she teaches English as a Second Language. She has written true crime articles for www.CrimeMagazine.com. A Contrary Wind is her first novel.
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