The People of Dewbrook

Chapter Seventeen

Looking at the people around her, Mildred wished she could say that there was hope for her fractured life, but even with years of experience when it came to telling people that everything gets better in the end in such gloomy situations, she refused to believe it. In her dreams, as well as at those times during the day when her mind wandered, she saw her husband and his mistress clearly, embracing and kissing with every trace of passion in their hearts, returning constantly like wraiths to taunt her. When she swept the dust; when she cooked the food; when she fetched the water; when she took care of the children, it haunted her, always and forever. There was hardly a moment when she could escape from herself.

Other people were not of help. It was certain that Mildred had quite a few friends, for it was one of the most important details concerning her life, but what became of her relationships with her friends was something that she saw as a scarred work of art, having no idea how to truly mend it. Secretive and morose, she retreated into the cold depths of her soul, preferring not to speak to people too much. There were several women who meant well and who were devastated to see the degradation of her psyche, but no matter how much they wanted to help, they could not distract her sensitive heart from the betrayals that had been done to her.

Indeed, there were more betrayals than she had thought there would be. At many an opportunity, when she went to talk to a woman she thought was her friend, the woman in question, although sympathetic enough, would somehow find a way to tell her that it was her fault that her marriage of love had been ruined and that she should have taken proper care of Stephen for that not to have happened. It was something that a part of her had expected, given the environment she was brought up in, but she could not help but feel that it was not just. 

Some of the women she knew were not even sympathetic. One woman in particular, although not a friend but a mere acquaintance instead, stuck out as a noticeable example to her. That old lady, with long, grey hair and eyes of the same colour that always stared judgmentally at those she did not much admire, constantly standing beside the fence of her rundown house like a statue, began to stare judgmentally at her as well, inviting anger to boil within her body like a pyre. When she had had enough of it, she marched over to the crone's house on one random day as the sun began to set, knocking madly at her door.

"What do you want?" croaked the beldam. "Are you not aware that today is the anniversary of my husband's death?"

Mildred let out a deep sigh. "I apologise from the bottom of my heart for my grievous mistake, Mrs Davies, but as it is too late to go back now, I shall express my intent to you. It is I, Mildred Rochester. I have come to you because I have noticed your odd behaviour towards me as of late. My husband was revealed to have been cheating on me an entire month ago, and ever since then, you seem to be judging me. Why is that so? It is not my fault, is it?"

Mrs Davies shook her head. "I am afraid it is. You see, Mildred, every woman receives a certain duty to fulfil when she enters marriage, a duty that is more sacred than anything else in the world, except for God himself, of course. He knows that I have fulfilled my duty to the best of my abilities, and thus I know that my husband is proud of me even in death. You have failed in that duty. Had you been a better wife, you would not be suffering at this moment, but in life, there are people who are punished by their incompetence, and alas, some of us right here have to be among those people. If you had been expecting to hear anything else from me, then you are naive."

"Farewell," Mildred growled, slamming the door in her face as she marched back to her residence.

The morning after that, it was time for Mildred to discuss "Anna Karenina" with her book club. She did not much want to be there, but she had to be. After all, she could not withdraw completely into herself, and the last meeting had been held almost two months ago due to reasons no one could have predicted. Thus, she put in a lot of effort when it came to preparing everything that was required for the occasion, especially the serving of the copious amounts of tea and biscuits she had made and making sure that every corner of the house that was going to be occupied was as neat and pretty as could be, for it was what mattered the most, according to her experiences.