by Tess Enroth
“You couldn’t have known what it would be like.”
“No, but I have no regrets, none at all.”
“What about yesterday?”
“Yes, that I do regret. But I never have had any regrets about Sam.”
“Rumor had it you were not his wife.”
“I don’t see how that was your concern.”
“Don’t misunderstand me, Florence, I admire you for not being shackled by convention. You’re a splendid woman, a free woman. A lovely hedonist.”
“I don’t know what hedonist means, but you don’t know me. As for conventions – I didn’t understand them then and never intended to flout them. I was hurt when I learned how some people judged me for loving Sam. You were a friend, and I felt drawn to you, but I did not mean to mislead you.’’ She stood and moved toward the door.
“Please, Louis, forget yesterday, and be a friend.”
In a second he was facing her, his arms encircling her and holding her close. Her spine stiffened as she shoved the heels of her hands against his chest and lowered her chin to avoid his kiss. After a minute he relaxed and dropped his arms to his sides.
There was anger in his face and disdain in his voice.
“I do know you, Florence, better than you know yourself. You are drawn to me, and I want you. You knew what was happening yesterday, and you wanted me, too.” He drew a quick breath. “Yesterday you trusted your instincts.”
She took another step away from him, and the tension in her throat made her voice sound harsh. “Animal instinct is a poor excuse for a man to make. Please leave, now, and if you have any honor, Sam will never know or have a reason to suspect either of us of this tawdry interval.”
“Really, Florence, you sound like the heroine in a second rate opera.”
“Get out!”
Louis retrieved his hat and was out the door. She turned the key and sighed with relief. Then she picked up the glass she hadn’t touched and went to the balcony, now shaded and cool, and she stood there sipping the wine and sorting out her thoughts.
She had said all she needed to and had managed to sound quite rational, too. She couldn’t excuse what she had done on the previous day, but today she had undone it, insofar as any such thing was possible. She had learned something about herself, and, appalling as the confrontation had been, his vicious comment taught her much about Louis.
She put him out of her mind.
Tomorrow they would sail for Marseilles and take a train through the autumn countryside, which Sam promised would be lovely.
And then in Paris, perhaps she’d have a day with Adrianna. Talking with Adrianna would help, even though her advice had often been elliptical, it always comforted Florence. Now she hoped Adrianna could satisfy her curiosity about Balzac, too, and his tales of assignation and deception, which now seemed to her even less amusing.
Chapter 32
Paris
October in Paris was warm and gentle, and from the moment they stepped from the train into a vaulted and sun-drenched station, Florence felt breathless. Sam hired a charabane to take them, baggage and all, along the broad avenues under golden trees. They passed the Cathedral of Notre Dame and crossed the Seine before halting in front of their hotel on a tree-lined street.
“This,” she said, “is truly a lovely city!”
“Truly, and we’ll enjoy it with all the fervor of two persons released from bondage.”
Sam’s brother James came to their rooms, greeted Sam heartily, and took Florence’s hands.
“I’m extremely pleased to meet you at last. I know from Sam that you are a remarkable woman, and I also know a little about what you’ve endured and accomplished with Sam. Welcome to our family.”
“I’m pleased, too, James. I have looked forward to meeting your wife.”
“Yes,” Sam broke in, “why didn’t you bring Louisa? We could all have a fine time. I’ve promised Florence we’d see some real Parisian nightlife.”
“I’m not sure you’ll want to do that, Sam. The newspapers have been filled with accounts of your return. It may not be possible for you two to be out on the streets without drawing a crowd. Matter of fact that’s why I chose this small hotel.”
“It’s a fine place, James. Thank you for your caution. We can be comfortable here while arranging the next steps, but we really must enjoy the city, too. Florence has never been here.”
“Well, I’ve warned you about the public. I don’t think I want to join you.”
“Oh, come along, James, it can’t be all that bad. I doubt people will inconvenience us. We’ve already met a good many curious strangers in Suez, and all they really wanted was my handshake and a good look at Florence.”
James had all necessary information about ferries to Dover and Southampton, and he described the house Louisa had found for them in London, one she was certain would please Florence. When James spoke of the banns being called in the nearby church, Florence suddenly grew uncomfortable, embarrassed to have their marriage so casually discussed by James. The wedding for which she once yearned now seemed not only superfluous, but an insult to their marriage. She excused herself and went to the bedroom, leaving Sam and his brother unaware of her discomfort.
She read a new novel in French now, to sharpen her use of the language. It didn’t interest her, and she closed the book on her fingers and drifted into sleep.
She awoke when Sam came to her side holding a letter a messenger had delivered, one he was sure she’d want to see immediately. As he suspected it was a note from Adrianna, saying when she would arrive in Paris and asking Florence to come to her at the first possible moment to spend an entire day.
“You’re absolutely right, Sam,” Florence said a few days later. “People here are considerate. I don’t mind that they want to ask me questions. When I am out alone, they smile but don’t often speak as they do when they see you.”
“Well, tell that to James. He may believe you. Louisa is more sociable than he is. You’ll meet her soon.”
“Maybe James will go out with you tomorrow and will see for himself. Adrianna is sending her driver for me, and she asked if you would like to join us for dinner.”
“Splendid! I should like to see Adrianna again, and I’d be pleased to take you both to dinner.”
Florence dressed in one of her new costumes, including the elegant kid boots made for her in Alexandria and a mauve day gown with a matching coat. She felt quite pleased with the effect as she stood before the pier glass and pinned a little hat carefully atop her new coiffure.
She was becoming accustomed to corsets again but grateful that crinolines no longer shaped every skirt, at least for daytime. In Paris now the skirts lay flat in front and had bows above the fullness that had moved to the back. Florence thought that bustles still seemed like a lot to have to put into a chair, but the narrowed skirts made getting about simpler. She had never liked to wear skirts that filled half a carriage or an entire doorway.
At last a bell rang, and she opened the door to see that Adrianna had stepped out of the iron bird cage lift.
“I’ve been so eager to see you. I couldn’t wait for the driver to bring you to me!”
They embraced, and both talked at once, saying more or less the same things in similar words. Then laughing, they stepped back to look at one another.
Adrianna’s face was a little fuller with a slightly double chin, but still was as creamy and perfect as Florence remembered. Her blue eyes sparkled as always, and now held tears of joy.
* * *
Sam and James spent the day discussing problems Florence and Sam might face in England.
“I think, for Florence’s sake, we should remain a while in London, perhaps until spring. I know she dreads what life may bring in England more than she ever feared any part of Africa.”
“When Louisa and I took the house in Arlington Street, this was in our minds. We thought a gradual introduction to our ways, our city, would be right, and then later the countryside and our
home, our family.”
“Then you don’t believe Min will be outraged by our not coming immediately to Devon?”
“To put it bluntly, Sam, I think she would be outraged if you did. I have told her, as I said in my letters, that you will be bringing your wife to England.”
“And?”
“And it did not go well. She cannot understand why you have been so secretive, why you didn’t bring her there long ago and introduce her. She is offended. I did say you hadn’t meant to be away so long, and you couldn’t control every circumstance.”
“And I take it that was not sufficient?”
“It was not. She finds it hard to excuse you for bringing home a wife, a mother for the girls, one who is not only a foreigner but a complete stranger.”
“I am sorry to hear that. I know she has dedicated her life to caring for my daughters for all these years, but she cannot believe I have no feeling for them. Or they for me. True, the baby knows me only through my letters, but the others must have hundreds of loving memories of me, of our life together, and I have tried, in my letters, to keep those memories alive.”
“I don’t know what she’d say to that, Sam. But her last word on this was that she won’t give up the girls and won’t live in the same house with you and your foreigner.”
“I had not thought her so harsh. It is going to be worse than I expected, yet, it will all come right in the end. And this I promise: No one dares show my wife, dares show Florence, anything but respect and kindness. I know my daughters will love her.”
“I believe they will. But it is going to be a bit dicey for you both. The lease on your house in Mayfair, by the way, may be extended for however long you wish. The location is excellent, and I hope you will find it comfortable.”
“And we shall all have a fine time in London. Believe me, James, I am most terribly grateful for your assistance. I do wish I’d had an address for Val. His last to me said he expected to leave Ireland, so I had no way to tell him when we’d be in England.”
“I wired him about meeting you in Paris and so on. If he received it, he may even pop up in Mayfair. I knew you would want him at the wedding. As for Min, I will do all I can to soften her heart. Or rather, I should say Louisa and I will do all we can. She is splendid that way.
* * *
“I can see you are content, that it has all come out in the best way,” Adrianna said as she sipped an espresso.
They had caught up on the events of the nearly five years. Adrianna was deeply moved by all the dangers her dear friend had faced and apologized for her own easy life.
“Oh, but you mustn’t feel sorry for me. Every difficulty strengthened me and, along with the good times, did much to bind us together.”
“I can believe that. I’ve not had such experiences, but I remember how I felt when the Count was ill and dying. I seldom left his side and rather belatedly learned what it could mean to be useful, needed, dependable. At that late hour, we became closer than ever before. After he died, I was grateful for having had that time.”
“By the way, Adrianna, I didn’t get around to Balzac until we were coming down the Nile this summer. I confess I didn’t know what to make of those stories.”
“Oh, that. I’d forgotten giving it to you. I think the book was supposed to be a comfort, should the worst occur, if you and Sam parted.”
“If he abandoned me? Did you think it likely?”
“Not in the least. I could see he was mad for you, even before he knew it. But he also had that other passion and might have concluded that you couldn’t share the rugged adventures he craved. About men and their passions, one cannot be sure.”
“And that book should have been a comfort?”
“I thought, if you felt ill-used, it might help to see the funny side of what men and women do. Was I wrong?”
“I don’t know what I might have thought or felt had I been left on my own. I’m not sophisticated enough to be amused, and my French remains inadequate. You gave me comfort and security when you said I would be welcome in your home at any time. When Sam was so ill I thought he might die, I remembered that.”
“I’m pleased for anything I might have said or done to help you through such an ordeal. The invitation is valid so long as I live. And please forget the book. I’ve lately been reading George Sand and realize her books would have been better for you.”
“Another writer using a man’s name? Life must not be easy for a writing woman.”
Florence went on about Charlotte Bronte’s using a man’s name as her pen name, and finally she had to ask about Duleep Singh. Adrianna said she had not seen him again, but had many letters. When Adrianna spoke of men who were friends or loving friends, Florence could now understand. Even though she would have chosen permanence, she knew it that was not in Adrianna’s nature.
This was the moment to tell Adrianna about Louis, and she did so without omitting her own embarrassing behavior. Adrianna understood everything she had done and even the shame and regret she felt. Adrianna, as always, made her feel she had actually behaved very well.
“We are flesh and blood, Florence, and temptations do test our feelings and our honesty. You faced a test and came away stronger for it. File it away just in case it ever happens again, to you or to Sam.”
“You are wonderful, Adrianna! You make me confident of my own good sense.”
“She is a beautiful as ever,” Florence said to Sam on their way back to their hotel, “don’t you agree?”
“And did she say what she had been doing these last five years?”
“Yes, I think she travels a great part of the time, but I’m not so sure as I once was that she is happy, though that doesn’t make a lot of sense, does it?”
“It does. Pleasure without purpose isn’t satisfying to me. But you and I, Florrie, we have the best of all possible worlds. You do believe that, too, don’t you?”
“Oh, yes, Sam. I’ve even stopped worrying about pretending to be an English lady.”
“You needn’t pretend to be anything, my dearest. You are all I could wish for and will delight everyone who matters. Just wait and see. We’ll have a house in London. If you don’t like the one James has leased for us, we’ll find another. And we’ll have a wedding in the church of St. James in Mayfair. A famous man designed it, and you shall be the loveliest bride ever to stand at its altar.”
“What about your family, Sam? Will they come?”
“Just James and Louisa, and maybe, if he gets leave, my brother Val. Later on we can have the girls come to us, one or two at a time so they may get to know you. And they, too, will love you.”
“I love you, Sam. I will be a good wife.”
“I know, my dear, you have always been.”
###
About the author
Tess Enroth, English Professor, has published poetry and short stories. This is her novel.
Contact: [email protected]
