An Absent Wife Read Online Free Page A

u have my deepest condolences, My Lord.  She was a lovely woman and she deserved a better fate than dying of cholera. It was not an easy death, but she had the best medical treatment available—the Surgeon General’s office saw to her directly, but sadly they were unable to save her. Where would you like to send her things?” he asked discreetly.
    “To my room if you have one available.” It looked like a nice enough place and he decided that he would much prefer to stay here than fight his way through the streets again. The restaurant over to the left looked inviting, as did the bar.
    Waiting while the room was prepared, he said goodbye to Mr Parson who had to return to his duties after offering his services for anything further he should need.
    Lysander was shown to a room on the second story —a large, spacious room with dark wooden floors and white walls. Large slatted shutters kept the sun out while letting air circulate. The shutters opened onto a large lush garden below. His wife’s lover hadn’t chosen a bad hotel, he noted. This would be a good place for lovers, a tranquil reprieve in the chaos of India. He wondered if her room had been like his and what they did here other than… Sharply dismissing the thought, he turned to the large canopied bed covered with a gauzy looking material meant to keep out the mosquitos at night. An uninvited image of his wife riding a man flashed into his head before a knock on the door made it dissipate like mist. Opening the door revealed the proprietor holding a box, which Lysander guessed was the remains of his wife’s life. The man carried the box inside, placing it on a table.
    “What should I do with Mr Ellingwood’s effects?” the man said quietly, not much louder than a whisper.
    Lysander considered it for a moment, then straightened his spine. “Bring them here. I will take them back and have them forwarded to his family.” He felt the sting of having to deal with her lover’s issues as well, but he was a gentleman and he would see to a fellow Englishman’s needs in a foreign country on behalf of his family—irrespective of any personal injuries that person would have caused him.
    Another box was delivered a short time later by a young Indian boy.
    Lysander ignored the boxes for the rest of the day. He had dinner, drank in the garden with the other guests and slept until dawn when the heat returned, robbing him of further sleep. Lying in bed, he considered how long he would stay. He wasn’t ready to start heading back as he hadn’t even begun to recover from his trip here.
    There was still something very uncomfortable about being in this place where his wife had been , and had claimed a life away from the one he provided. He still didn’t understand what it was that had made her do it; it was an illogical decision as this man she was with could truly offer her very little. He wondered about the man who had urged a woman to give up her respectability, her station and her security. He eyed the box with Ellingwood written on one side—his pride battling with his curiosity, but he left the box alone until the time he returned from breakfast down in the restaurant. Finally opening the box, he found the typical things—clothing, toiletries, his watch engraved with a message of devotion for someone named Charles Ellingwood. There was nothing out of the ordinary amongst his possessions. He looked amongst the man’s possessions and wondered if his wife had given him anything here. He didn’t know her well enough to hazard a guess.
    He the n moved to his wife’s box. Its contents were roughly the same, but everything was finer in nature—silks, brushes and a small bottle of French perfume. Opening it, he tried to place the scent, but it didn’t register as familiar to him. He wondered if he should know his wife’s perfume. It seemed strange that he was married to this woman and didn’t know the scent she preferred.
    There was no journal and he was relieved.