With his name, she had some standing in society, but clearly one she’d lost as she now resided south of the Thames. Perhaps someone like her couldn't help but to seek lower circumstances in life. From what he had seen, she’d achieved it so far.
Putting to side the specter of his wife, he tried to regain the serenity he felt observing nature’s symphony outside the window. The scenery was starting to look more and more familiar, which meant he was approaching his childhood home.
Seeing it now, it struck him that he'd missed it—missed the greenery and the sedate country lifestyle. Not that he'd seen it so much before, being distracted by the entertainment in London and then his marriage to Eliza Ellerson—a gentle beauty that had stolen his breath away. It hadn't strictly been a beneficial marriage as her being the daughter of a clergyman, she'd brought little to it. Her brother had inherited the small family house in Kent, with its small lands that did little more than feed his family.
Interestingly, Eliza hadn't returned to her brother after the separation, which showed more clearly that she was an incorrigible figure who sought the diversions of London, and whatever men she associated with.
All in all, it had been a disaster of a marriage, and the worst was that his brother had warned him against her, but he hadn't listened. In fact, he'd fancied himself in love with his pretty wife. How wrong he had been.
Before long, the carriage passed through the nearby village and continued on to Denham Hall. In some ways, he was pleased to see it again, but there were so many competing emotions—some of which had chased him around the length of the world. And things were to get worse, because before long, everyone in England would know exactly how disastrous his marriage had been.
The letter initiating the divorce had been sent, the charges about to be filed. The process, which he fully expected to be grueling and horrific, had now begun.
Then the house appeared as it always did as, as if nestled in a glade, framed by trees and parkland. It was still one of the most handsome houses in the country, and he felt pride as he saw it. But this was his brother's estate and it had always been meant to be. Bickerley House was pretty in its own way, but it was not a house on the magnitude of Denham Hall.
Familiar trees lined the road up to the house, and on approaching he saw that little had changed in the years he'd been gone. Except the ornate, glass-lined building, which he assumed was some kind of orangery.
"Master Caius," Mr. Thomas said as he walked outside. The man, who had been with the family as long as Caius had lived, was older, his hair lightening with age. "We were not expecting you."
"Good to see you too, Mr. Thomas." The man expressed himself with the elevation of his eyebrows and little else, and there had been times when Caius had found himself doing the same thing. If there was ever a picture of stoicism, it was Mr. Thomas. "I take it my brother is home."
"He is," Mr. Thomas confirmed. "Are you staying with us for the evening? If so I will bring in your effects."
"Mr. Jones can assist." Having only one good arm, Mr. Jones sometimes struggled with trunks, but the man always found a way of getting things done. "I assume you can find a place for him?"
"Of course."
"My word," a familiar voice said and Octavia appeared in the doorway, looking exactly the same. "Is that you, Caius? We wondered if we might see you before long, or if you would insist on being negligent with us."
Coming over, Octavia embraced him, smelling exactly as he remembered his sister smelling. Gardenias. It was her favorite scent. "I felt I had to come. You look lovely."
"Julius," she called, but there was no response as they listened. "Heaven knows where he's hidden himself away. Come, we must find him."
"Found," Julius said, appearing on the landing above, looking dapper. His brother always ensured he looked smart. "Well, well. You're back. We were wondering when you'd make an appearance."
"I just told him that," Octavia said.
"Father will be pleased," Julius continued. "Come, you must tell us what you have been doing with yourself all this time. Soldiering, I expect."
Julius's dismissiveness of Caius' career as a soldier was something they had dealt with for years, but Caius knew that jealousy lay at the root of it. As the eldest son, a commission had never been a possibility for him, but his brother had envied his career, the advancement and the respect given to the uniforms Caius often wore. Even now, Caius at times wondered if Julius wouldn't mind terribly if their places were switched. Not that anyone would be ungrateful in being the heir to Denham Hall, with its title and substantial prospects. While a life of comfort and respect, it wasn't one of adventure.
Nothing had changed inside the house, which was comforting, in a way. The furniture was the same and in the exact place he had always known it to be. They walked into the salon and Octavia gracefully draped herself over the chaise lounge. "So I suppose you've had to give up your commission now that you're Lord Warwick."
It was true, but it was the ideal time for it. He wasn't sure how many more battles he could face. The faces around him seemed to be getting younger and every year, more of them seemed to perish. There was a natural stage when one should give it up, and if he hadn't reached it, he would soon. Or else one would become too congruent to function in society, stuck soldiering because one couldn't do anything else.
He was only thirty. Although he felt much older.
"So what are you going to do about her?" Julius asked.
"Now that I am back, I will have to deal with her."
"Now that you are Lord Warwick, you cannot simply leave her as your wife and live apart," Octavia said, "to forever live like a bachelor. That might suit some, but you need a proper wife."
Initially when they'd married, Octavia had been the only one who supported the match, had adored the romance of a love match. But it had all turned so wrong. Like him, Octavia had also been fooled. While Julius and his father made out as if they'd expected it all along. Her faithlessness.
At the time, it had taken him completely by surprise, a thunderbolt out of the blue, but the truth had spilled from the very man who'd seduced her. There was no doubt whatsoever. She'd paid heed to his attention, and that heed had turned to passion.
It had pierced his heart, which he feared had died from the wound. It had certainly killed the illusion that had been their marriage. The creature she was had been revealed, and sheer unpleasantness ensued.
As mortifying as it had all been, he had been a man of honor and had supported her throughout, instructing his man of business to diligently send her a sum of money each month. A sum that would not support a life of luxury, but enough for modest rooms and a modest lifestyle.
Clearly she had wished for a more lavish lifestyle as she scrimped on what she paid for her rooms. Who knew what kind of society she dwelled in, but she seemed to have given up all pretense of respectability.
Perhaps that would make the divorce easier, and him more of a laughingstock for choosing such a creature for his wife. He wasn’t the first man to be fooled by a pretty face, and like all who were, he was made to suffer for it.
Chapter 4:
"WHERE'S MUMMY?" Rosie asked as Eliza picked a bit of lint off the girl's shoulder.
"She's still at the printery, so I thought I'd pick you up. How was your day?"
"I can walk on my own, you know."
"Your mother would have a fit and perish out of worry."
"I'm not a little child."
"You are still very much a child and these streets are dangerous for an eight-year-old."
Together, they walked out of the school gate and onto the busy streets of Lambeth. Horses and carriages pushed into the crowd, along with carts and sellers of everything imaginable. In some ways, Eliza loved the liveliness of the streets, but at times she missed the more sedate pace of country life. Although she wondered if the pace would be too slow for her now, sitting all day with very little to do. She wasn't quite sure how she’d managed to spend her days as a
young woman, or even as a married woman. There had been a lot of tea and chatter with various people.
"Do you want an apple?" Eliza asked and Rosie nodded. The child would probably rather go to the confectioners, but Teresa would not forgive her. Then Eliza would likely get yelled at, like a naughty schoolgirl.
They stopped at a cart and bought two apples, the earliest of the autumn crop was coming in. Fresh apples. Was there anything better, Eliza thought as she bit into hers. They were at times cheap and abundant, and she used them a great deal in the educational material she created, because all children knew what they were.
Without trying to, her mind slipped into her work, thinking of the arithmetic project she'd been mulling over, an intermediate book. They had made a great deal of material for young children to learn letters and numbers, but not as much for older children, and they were now starting to.
"And what would you like to do on Sunday?" Eliza asked, pulling herself out of her train of thought.
"The zoo," Rosie said.
"You want to go to the zoo? Again?" For all her professions that she wasn't a child, she still very much liked the things she'd liked when she was smaller.
"And what do you wish to see this time?"
"The tigers."
"Ah." There was a spirit of adventure with Rosie. She liked feeling scared. Her mother had that same defiance. It kept them in good stead for some things, but not always by means of showing caution. However, it made them work together well, because Eliza was more cautious and Teresa saw the potential. Together, it made them cautiously optimistic.
Then it occurred to her that perhaps they needed to save their pennies in the next while, because all they had could be taken away in this divorce. If not by Lord Warwick, then by the scandal of the divorce itself.
Perhaps in the next little while, and maybe permanently, they should promote Teresa more as the face of the company. But technically, Teresa didn't own the company, Eliza did. Keeping the structure of the company simple had been necessary so as to not involve Caius in this venture. Anything complex and his signature would have been required, and he was simply not around to do that—not that she’d wanted to go beg him for a signature. So a very simple structure had suited her, but that simple structure was now at risk with this divorce.
Truthfully, she hadn't dedicated the time to study the ins and outs of female ownership laws to discover what was possible, if there was some kind of way she could set up a trust without her husband's signature. Perhaps she should have anticipated this day would come.
Then again, she had no idea what Caius’ intentions were. Largely, she was utterly at the mercy of how he wished to provide for her. He had provided her with a stipend as they had separated, but a divorce might see him cut ties with her altogether.
He'd certainly been angry the last time she'd seen him. It had been a horrible day. Tense and cuttingly sharp. It hadn't been entirely unexpected as she’d been shunned completely for a few days before, having to retreat to her own room in Denham Hall, then being asked to vacate the property.
It still gave her chills to think about it, the coldness she’d received from him and his family, then being put in a carriage with her trunk, bound for London.
With a sigh, she dismissed the heavy feelings that came with thinking back on those days. It was much more pleasant to think of the things she’d done since, and the fantastic apples they were partaking in. "I wonder what Mrs. Fisher will cook for supper this evening."
"Not more tripe, I hope."
"She hardly ever cooks tripe. The French adore tripe, you know."
"Well, they can keep it."
It didn't take long to get home. In fact, they'd chosen the house because of its proximity. It was a decent house, nothing extraordinary, and the landlord had sought someone to take care of it while he lived overseas.
"Afternoon, Mrs. Fisher," Eliza called when they walked in the door and hung up their coats, entering the relative quiet and stillness of the house compared to the streets outside.
Rosie ran upstairs, while Eliza walked into the parlor and sat down. It was warm enough that a fire wasn't needed, but that would change soon. The nights were cooling down and the mornings were brisk. A good time of year, because the Thames didn't smell so awfully. Summer was when she missed her former country lifestyle the most.
As soon as she sat down, her mind returned to the arithmetic project. Perhaps she shouldn't think so much of work, but it was a darn sight better than thinking about the divorce.
The door opened and the house was noisy, which meant Teresa had to be home with Philip. For some reason, the moment there were two children in the house, it ceased to be quiet.
"Go upstairs and get cleaned up for supper," Teresa said and Eliza saw him pass by the parlor door in a flash. Then Teresa appeared.
"What are you going to do?" she asked.
"About the arithmetic book?"
"No, you goose. Him."
"Well, there's not much I can do. I suppose I will have to get a barrister to argue my case." The moment she said it, she recognized that it would utterly deplete any money she had. Barristers weren't cheap.
Naturally, the charge against her would be adultery. No doubt they would drag out William Castle Garrick to repeat his slanderous accusations. In the light of it, it would be impossible to prove otherwise.
And prove otherwise for what reason, so the divorce was not to be granted? Then they would have to remain married. That was far from ideal as well, but would prevent the scandal that was to come. But to stay married to a man who clearly didn't want her. That was… very uneasy.
"I don't know," she finally said after a while.
"Couldn't you simply not tell him about the business?" Teresa suggested. "If we deplete the inventory, which are our only assets, there is little real value in the business. And if you never bring it up, then maybe he'll never even notice it's there. Ahead of this, we could stage a little fire-sale."
"I might need to just to pay for the barrister."
"The main focus should be after the divorce. That is what's important."
Teresa was always so practical and that's what Eliza adored about her. She never looked back, only to the future. In fact, to the degree that Eliza knew quite little about her past, because she rarely wanted to talk about it. But a standing aversion to men had resulted from it.
"I think after the divorce, we should set up a partnership. You might have to take a more visual role, because my name will be in the mud."
"That will pass, you know. Scandal only hold people's interest for so long."
"True, but a tarnished character is forever." And she certainly knew that was true. It didn't matter if the accusation was true or not, it had bit deeply and affected everything in her life. Her ruined reputation had been a force unto itself, unable to be fought or reasoned with. It had its way with her, but she’d built a life for herself—one that was under threat now.
There had to be some way of protecting what she'd built. And if they depleted the stocks to practically nothing, all they had were contacts, contracts and expenses. Even the profits were not remarkable, because everything she'd earned had gone back into expanding the business.
Obviously things didn't work that way. Businesses were judged on their potential, not the state of their assets. But maybe there were things she could do. How she wished she had someone she could speak to about this. An experienced barrister, but was it even possible to find one who had sympathy for her, a notorious adulteress.
Chapter 5:
THE GARDENS AT DENHAM were past their prime, but still lush as the summer was coming to an end. Caius walked them with Octavia. Unfortunately some said the same thing about his sister, who at twenty-six was considered past her prime and skirting spinsterhood. But she had discerning tastes when it came to whom she spent the rest of her life with, and he wondered if his disastrous marriage had put her off the institution entirely.
Having been away, however, he had
no idea what her social engagements had been like. Perhaps she’d turned down beau after beau. Her dowry would attract many. Then again, he didn't know quite a lot about her dealings.
"You haven't become engaged lately?" he asked. Such news could have missed him entirely.
"No," she said and they kept wandering in silence.
It could be a fraught subject to bring up as his sister could become irate when pushed about things she didn't wish to speak about. "There isn't anyone…?" he started.
The blush on her cheeks suggested there might be, which was interesting. Still, it would not do to push his sister further unless she wished to speak.
"What about yourself? Have you had any alliances over in the orient?"
"No time for such things." Besides, all the women that came to the orient tended to be married, and pursuing married women wasn't a game he dabbled in. And for an unattached woman, he presented a messy prospect in that he was still married himself.
With his divorce, that would change, although there would be some women who would shy away from a divorced man. Not to the degree that they would shy away from a divorced woman, and rightly they should in this case.
More topics that seemed fraught to discuss. "You have not heard any news of…" It even felt awkward saying her name. For so long, he had wiped her from his thoughts, but returning here, she was returning to his mind as well. The last time he'd seen her had been here at Denham. "Eliza?"
"Oh, no. I haven't heard a peep actually. She either travels in no society or one entirely different from ours."
"That is what I fear," he found himself saying. He feared something entirely unsavory and it would all come out in the divorce, the bones of this dead marriage being picked over by all of society. And they would all see exactly how poorly he’d chosen his wife. Although fear might not be the right word. Fear was what you felt when you rode into battle, a silent kind of scream inside your head as time slowed down and you truly feared for your life. In comparison, a divorce was nothing to fear. "I worry that it will perhaps be detrimental to your prospects."
The Nuisance Wife Page 2
