Maybe it had been his wife watching her lover’s pyre. Maybe she had mistakenly been declared dead and was innocently unaware of the mistake. But then where was she? Perhaps she was on her way to England. The thought made him angry—he had come all this way for a simple clerical error. This only fed into the underlying anger that she had done this—embarrassed him in the way she had. He was fairly sure he would never forgive this further imposition.
Bidding goodbye to Mr Parsons, he returned to the hotel and the peaceful tranquillity it presented in the middle of the sheer chaos that was Calcutta. He needed a bath; he could smell the smoke of the riverside sticking to his clothes like the clothes stuck to his body, wet with sweat.
Lysander requested the attention of the hotel manager when he arrived back, after ordering a gin and tonic in the bar.
“I understand you saw my wife’s body after her death,” Lysander said as the man appeared. The man didn’t respond immediately.
“Yes,” he said after a moment of silence. “And I wish to relay my deepest condolences.”
Lysander nodded, but there was something in the man’s demeanor—judgement.
“And you are sure you saw her?”
“I didn’t look very closely, but I am sure it was your wife’s body. Again, I am very sorry for your loss. If that is all, I am afraid I must go attend to some repairs.” He smiled discreetly and withdrew. Lysander decided that he didn’t entirely trust this man—there was something in the way the man regarded him, but then maybe that wasn’t out of line considering his wife had been living here with another man. Perhaps a bit of judgement was to be expected under the circumstances—it would be were the roles reversed.
Returning to his room, Lysander went through his late wife’s possessions. There was nothing out of the ordinary. Surely if she’d left, she wouldn’t leave all these things behind. Clothes, toiletries and even jewelery. He noted that the wedding band wasn’t there, but then he wasn’t sure she would have brought it with her when leaving to live with another man. It must be back at the Hall, he assumed. Then he noted that there wasn’t a hair brush. There was a comb amongst Mr Ellingwood’s effects, but no hair brush amongst his wife’s. While he didn’t know his wife well, he knew women well enough to know they cared for their hair. There was the possibility that his wife would have used Mr Ellingwood’s comb, but not for the period of months they were together.
It could of course have been stolen, but then the jewelery was still present. The realisation only confirmed suspicions he couldn’t quite have formulated before. There was no body of his wife, a woman had been watching Mr. Ellingwood’s cremation and now the most crucial item of women’s personal care was missing. It could possibly be that his wife was alive and that she had conducted a deception; although this could all be his imagination conjuring fantastical turns of events.
He didn’t know what to do, feeling boxed in at every turn. His wife was either alive and deceiving him, or she was dead and lost. He didn’t honestly know what was required of him, but something was—he had to deal with this. Either way, he had to find her before he was free of this whole affair.
The hotel manager was indisposed when he next tried to seek him out, making Lysander narrow his eyes when the message was conveyed to him. He had a feeling that he would get no more assistance from the man and if he did, he wasn’t sure he could trust it. If his wife was alive, this man had possibly attested to her death knowing it was a deception.
He further mulled over the character of the woman who would do such a thing, the character of the woman who was his wife, in name if nothing more. He wasn’t entirely sure which outcome he wanted, but it would probably be easier if she was deceased. A deception of this magnitude could not be born; it signified a flaw in character beyond anything tolerable.
Returning to the train station, he made inquiries regarding lone women buying tickets, but there were none fitting the description of his wife. The only other place was the port. He gritted his teeth through the rickshaw ride, past the cacophony of life existing on the streets of this city. He was getting a bit more accustomed to the complete assault on his senses each time he left the lush green surroundings of the hotel, and familiarity of what was outside was alleviating some of the distress.
Occasionally he would pass others—British men and women in their light dresses and suits—heading off in rickshaws to whatever business they had. He tipped his hat to each in an odd gesture of familiarity with people he had essentially not met before, but the foreignness of the place encouraged an odd sense of familiarity even with perfect strangers—perhaps because they lived with the same exotic experiences here. The same had been true with the other guests at the hotel. There was a feeling of camaraderie brought on by the fact that they were British in a foreign place. A few of the hotel guests were residents living there on a permanent or a semi-permanent basis, like Adele and Samson had—working here and raising their families. It was Britain, but it was different—the rules were different and the lines of demarcation within English society appeared to be much more blurry here.
The port was as busy and unpleasant as he expected. There were people, goods and carts moving in every available space. It took him a while, but he found a spectacled young Indian man in the port building to help him make enquiries amongst the passenger agents. The man encouraged him to sit in a chair while a glass of tea was presented to him.
Sitting back, Lysander watched the frantic activity across the dock area while he waited for the man to return. It took close to an hour, but the young man returned to confirm that there had indeed been a young woman by the name of A. Ellis, traveling alone during the time period in question—to Adelaide.
Lysander frowned. Adelaide? he repeated to himself. He couldn’t really see Adele traveling to Adelaide. It couldn’t possibly be further away from London. She had no ties with Adelaide—or even with Australia. It didn’t make sense; she would cut off any support she had, travel to the ends of the earth and for what? The only thing he knew about Adelaide was that there was gold there; although he could hardly see her as a gold prospector. The whole notion of Adele traveling to Adelaide was ludicrous.
He queried if there were any other young women traveling alone, but there were none, except a diplomatic wife traveling to Peking. He dismissed the idea of the diplomatic wife, but the other was harder to dismiss. Adelaide would be a place where someone would go to shed their identity. He wasn’t ready to believe it was Adele, but he had to concede that there was something in his gut that identified with this person.
Seeking out another rickshaw, he made his way back to the hotel to change and refresh before his supper with the Viceroy.
Lysander arrived at Government House shortly after dusk—a massive building not much different from many stately homes back in England. His carriage drew up in front of a large sandstone staircase, where staff were waiting to assist. An aide showed him the way to the Brown Dining Room, where the evening’s event was being held. The halls held portraits or paintings of a myriad of royals and also previous Viceroys.
It had been a long day and he was both tired and hungry. If it had been up to him, he would have preferred staying close to his room, but when such distinguished persons extended invitations, it was plain rude to decline, particularly on short notice for no discernible reason.
“Warburton, good to see you,” Viceroy Mayo said as he was shown into the brightly lit dining room holding a collection of people. There were women in elegant and light silk dresses and men in light suits made for the climate. He considered whether he should have some made for himself, but his short stay didn’t justify a new wardrobe and he didn’t want to stay to wait for it to be ready. “Ghastly business about your wife.”
“Yes,” Lysander agreed as he was delivered a drink on a silver tray.
“Has Parsons been able to locate her?”
“Not that I have heard.”
“Then I hear the woman had a habit of getting lost,” the Vicero
y said. Lysander knew it was a statement indicating that the Viceroy was aware of her presence in Calcutta and the circumstances in which she was living.
“So it seems,” Lysander returned non-committally. He’d grown used to veiled comments about his wife over the last ten months. It was embarrassing, but there was nothing he could do to counter the accusation—it was true after all.
“I am sure Parsons will find her, or rather where she was joined with the river as the locals say. He is having the Imperial Police Service assist with scouring the city. I have no doubt they will find some further information shortly.”
Lysander had met Lord Mayo on a number of occasions previously. He’d made an appearance in London on a frequent basis as it had always been a part of his role as the Secretary for Ireland. Lysander knew he was an excellent administrator and the position of Viceroy was well-deserved and well-allocated. “Come eat. You can tell us of any gossip from London.”
It was a pleasant supper and he relayed what he knew for the benefit of the ladies present. He usually didn’t pay close attention to the stories that amused women, but he told them what he could. When they asked him about the latest fashion, he was frankly lost.
“Now for some whiskey while the women refresh themselves,” Lord Mayo said. The men moved over to a set of chairs along a stretch of the balcony that surrounded the large building. The heat was pleasant this time of night—not stifling, but a warm breeze that was welcome after the harsh sun of the day.
The men talked about some reforms aimed to educate the general local population while they sipped Irish whiskey that Lord Mayo had shipped over throughout the year. “One must have some home comforts or one goes mad,” he explained as he urged the servers to refill their glasses. “It is good to see you, Warburton. What do you think of our fair city?”
“I am getting used to its activity.”
Lord Mayo laughed. “One never gets used to it, but one does miss it upon return to gentler environments, I hear.” Lysander wasn’t sure he was prepared to believe that. “I couldn’t convince you to stay? We need good men. In particular, I need a Lieutenant Governor for Andaman and Nicobar. It’s a savage place that needs to be brought under control.”
“A task I fear would be beyond me,” Lysander said with jovial certainty. He wasn’t a man that craved such adventure and he had no desire to spend years in some savage foreign land, particularly a prison colony.
“Shame,” the Viceroy said with disappointment. “I was hoping for someone of a less military background for the position. Those military men do tend to approach tasks with a lack of circumspection at times. No offence, Hargeston.” A man who was apparently of military persuasion raised his glass in acceptance.
“I met your wife,” one of the other men said. “Lovely woman and a wonderful wit. Such a shame she succumbed.”
“Yes,” Lysander said without elaborating. The statement surprised him as he hadn’t realized that Adele and her lover were socializing. It wasn’t something that would have been possible in London, but again, the rules were different here—more relaxed and flexible. He knew that his wife and Mr Ellingwood were not the only couple in unfortunate circumstances who sought a life in India.
He wondered how long they would have stayed here; if they planned on making this their home. He also didn’t recognize the woman that they had described meeting either—she sounded like a perfect stranger. Adele wasn’t a lovely woman, or even a memorable woman as far as he saw, but the people who met her here saw her differently. Perhaps it was Samson Ellingwood that brought this change in her, he thought as he downed the last of his whiskey.
Chapter 5
“Come on, girls, it’s time to go,” Tabitha said impatiently down in the foyer, while Adele followed Rosie down the stairs.
“We’re coming,” Rosie yelled back with annoyance. “Are you afraid you’re going to miss something?”
“The start, and I don’t want the worst seats in the house.” Tabitha shooed them all out of the door and onto the darkening street outside. The setting sun was not quieting the streets where the daily life of moving goods was replaced by people seeking amusement outside their homes.
They normally went for leisurely walks at this time of evening, but tonight they were going to see a play called the Colleen Bawn. Adele had been uncertain about going along, but Tabitha had been true to her word and would not take no for an answer. Adele would normally join them if they were going for a walk, but typically declined if they had more extensive plans.
She was actually nervous, feeling like she was doing something she shouldn’t. Women like her didn’t go to the theatre, but she wasn’t women like her anymore; she was something else and for the type of person she was here, it was perfectly acceptable for her to go to the theatre for the evening with a group of female companions.
The theatre was actually more wholesome here than it was in London, where it was the focal point of less admirable activities. It was somewhere Lysander took his mistress—a place where it was acceptable to be seen by others with women who weren’t strictly acceptable in the drawing-rooms of society.
The newly installed gas lights lit their way as the darkness took over, casting semicircles of light on the dusty road heading into the centre of town. It was a pleasant city in the evenings, a bit chilly, but it didn’t have the rawness that London had most of the year. Adele had missed London when she’d lived in Devon and she rarely got to visit. While she had grown up in London, she had seldom had the opportunity to explore—being shifted between tutors and schools, her life was regimented, and amusement was typically not part of her day.
She looked over at her companions who were dressed in their best dresses for the evening. The Sunday church dresses were supposed to be their best, but that wasn’t true—these were their best dresses, the dresses they were seen in on nights out. Rosie looked beautiful with her pale complexion and blonde hair. Tabitha was very pretty as well, but in a more unconventional way. In all, they made for an attractive group and they caught the eyes of the men they passed.
Adele was still not used to the way men regarded women here—more direct and confronting as a direct consequence of the sheer number of males in the city compared to females. It was a city of youth and energy, and women had their pick of men—not that Adele was interested in picking a man. She wasn’t interested in another relationship and the loss of Samson was still fresh in her mind.
She had adored Samson and he had been a perfect gentleman to her in all things. He’d said he would have married her of it was possible, but they both suspected that her husband wasn’t going to release her—and Lysander was too young to widow her anytime soon. Samson had harmed his career by being with her and she had worried endlessly over that fact, but he insisted that he would do it again if he’d been given the chance.
Samson had accepted the harm to his career and for that, Adele would be forever grateful to him. She hoped she had loved him enough for his faith and belief in her. She wasn’t entirely convinced she deserved it, but he had given freely. He’d shown her intimacy and the delights of the bedroom, which she had learnt to crave. His love and support had brought out a different side to her and she enjoyed just being with him, and it didn’t matter what they did, she was just happy. Being with him was easy; he was never gloomy or lamenting, always contented with what was available to them at the time. He was so very different from Lysander. Lysander didn’t strive for change, but he was never contented—at least not in her presence; if he was with his mistress, she wasn’t sure. She wasn’t privy to his life in any way; she only heard things from others.
The only thing Adele regretted from the time she spent with Samson was that he hadn’t given her a child. Her life would be complete her if she had a child to care for. It had been something she’d hoped for since the very start of her marriage, but her husband hadn’t wanted to spend the time with her needed to ensure that happened.
The theatre was brightly lit when they arrived.
There were people waiting outside and they arrived just in time for the doors to open.
“They are going to close the theatre soon,” Tabitha said.
“Why?” Rosie said with concern.
“They’re building a new one—a spectacular one.”
“But we will be without a theatre.”
“For a while.”
“Why can’t they just leave well enough alone?”
“Because this just isn’t grand enough.”
Adele looked around the decor and she did see the point. Even with her limited experience, she could tell that compared to London’s theatres, this was very simple. There was only painting on the walls and ceilings, and they weren’t expertly done. There wasn’t a gold leaf in sight. In fact, it was a humble theatre and the people of Adelaide must have decided that it didn’t do them justice.
“We’ll just have to find other ways of amusing ourselves.” Tabitha eyes narrowed as she watched a man across the hall. It was the same man that had been calling for her on their lawn the other evening. He was there with a blond woman with horsy teeth. “That took all of two minutes,” Tabitha said with distaste. “Good riddance.”
The theatre itself was slightly dusty and the leather-covered chairs looked well-worn. They took seats in the centre of the theatre while Rosie was distracted by two men whom she obviously knew.
“She is such a flirt,” Tabitha said. “You should take a few lessons from her. You’re not planning on being the mourning widow forever, are you? Some man will come along and sweep you off your feet.”
“I think I will just stick to being a simple school teacher for now.” Adele wasn’t sure she could handle an entanglement with another man; she’d relinquished her whole life and she wasn’t sure she could bear the emotional turmoil of another relationship. While her time with Samson had been lovely and fulfilling, getting to that point had been difficult.
An Absent Wife Page 4
