A Loveless Marriage

Chapter 17: Mary

Dark water. It didn't matter how my dreams started, they always ended the same way, with the water. Fred had roused me from yet another nightmare by drunkenly barging in my room, he didn't realise it but he had saved me from another night of tortured sleep. He'd seemed different, agitated about something and I suspected Bella Morton was the cause. In the morning, she had left without a word of goodbye, the final snub of her visit, and I was glad to escape the hypocrisy of our final farewells.

The house seemed quiet without our guests, Fred and I were now alone. Things had changed between us from my one moment of weakness, I couldn't shake from my mind the memory of our bodies entangled in my bed. I'd been such a fool to change something when I had started to feel content. The truth spilling out like a tipped jug, he knew the very start of my shame and he saw me differently now. There was always a slight smirk as I left for church, my cheeks grew red with his silent accusation of hypocrisy.

As I prayed in church, I felt the need for penitence for the shameful lust I felt for Fred and for the lies I kept hidden from him. My fingers locked tight I prayed for forgiveness for the burning I felt Fred kissed me, ashamed of my body's compliance in this sham of a marriage. I hated myself for wanting a man who was so devoid of morals, who would never feel the same torture between mind and body. He was a man incapable of shame, incapable of restraint, all he wanted he took and yet instead of repelling me, I drew closer to him.

Lust was not my only sin, there was something else that I could barely acknowledge to God himself, although he could see my cruelty and neglect. Prayer was not enough. I knew what would relieve the pressing weight of guilt, I knew what I had to do and yet I feared it more than anything. I feared Her. My fear needed to stay hidden to the outside, disguising the storm within my mind, I rose calm and I smiled at my neighbours, exchanged pleasantries with the vicar then returned to the home I did not deserve.

Quiet was my enemy, it gave me too much time to think. I threw myself into modernising the house, letting Fred's money trickle through my fingers as though it was water. He paid no attention to the costs. I organised the library, selling the books that we did not require and making significant additions to our collection. He paid no attention to the costs. I took soup to the poor and infirm on the Estate, makings lists of improvements needed to our tenants' property. At that point, my spendthrift husband sat up and went through the accounts diligently with the help of his Estate Manager. Indulgence and generosity were different things it seemed.

The nagging guilt still grew within and after restless night after restless night, I decided to face my fear. Without asking my maid, I packed my bags with my simplest clothes and hid my luggage in my closet. It reminded me of my childhood, no sooner settled than packing and leaving. Flitting from our secrets as they were debts but never forgetting our shame. Only this time packing I was not running away from my secret, I was running to Her and I would come back.

Fred was in the morning room, lying on the sofa with his fingertips pressed over his temples. A casualty of his own excess, I thought, as I pursed my lips primly. I sat opposite him and rang for tea. He looked up at me and sighed, I made no effort to disguise my disdain.

"I'm surprised you are out of bed," I said.

"Was I so very tight last night?" he asked, knowing the answer to his question.

I made no answer, except for raising my eyebrows. It was not uncommon for Fred to overindulge in wine and to suffer the next day.

"I apologise," he said, making a great effort into sitting up.

"It wasn't me who had to put you to bed," I said with a shrug.

"A shame."

Fred gave a boyish grin, half-ashamed and half-amused by his own debauchery. I resolved not to give him the satisfaction of visible disapproval, he enjoyed it too much. My mind returned to my packed luggage, silently mapping out the route I would take and planning my accommodation for the overnight in London. Every step was in place and now I just had to inform Fred of my absence, with the hope that his hangover would prevent him from asking too many questions.