Willow Grove Abbey (16 page)

Finally
, on one of my monthly visits to the Obstetrician, I gathered my courage and asked if it was normal for my husband not to want physical relations. The doctor said that it wasn’t unusual for a man to feel reluctant to perform sexual acts with a pregnant woman, and that most likely Owen was afraid of hurting the baby or me. He counseled me to be patient. I didn’t tell him that there had only been
one
sexual encounter since our marriage, and that my husband didn’t remember that single occurrence. I decided to hope the doctor was correct, and not to say anything until after the baby’s birth. I shall always wonder what might have happened if I’d stuck to my original plan, and waited until after the baby’s birth to speak to Owen.

***

In July, I felt as though I’d reached a breaking point. Perhaps it had to do with hormones. I simply knew that something was definitely amiss, and I needed to find out what it was. Owen was once again in London, and I was once again home alone. I would be leaving on my trip to Paris in just two weeks. I decided that I wanted to get things settled before I left. On impulse, I decided to surprise Owen at the flat on Sumner Street, where he was staying. If he was having an affair then I would deal with it. I didn’t really care if he had a mistress, but felt that I had a right to know what I was facing, and what the future held.

I
took the afternoon train to London, arriving about seven o’clock in the evening. I had no problem finding a taxi, and within a few moments was paying the driver while the door attendant handled my overnight case. He knew who I was, so there was no need to ring the apartment to announce my arrival. I simply walked over to the lift, entered the number for our floor, ascended, and came to a halt in the black and white marble foyer of the apartment. In front of me stood the double doors leading into the parlor. When I opened the doors, I had no idea what to expect. There seemed nothing amiss. A small fire was burning in the marble fireplace and two half-empty snifters of brandy were on the tea table. It appeared that Owen had company, but apparently they had left to dine. There was soft music playing on the wireless. For some reason I felt shaky and all undone. However, I had perfectly prepared to put my plan into action, so in spite of my nervousness I swiftly moved down the hallway that led to one of the three bedrooms. The master suite was at the end of the corridor, and I knew that Owen would be sleeping there. I chose the room closest to his, and settled myself in the sitting area overlooking Sumner Street. From that vantage I could see anyone who came or left the building. My patience was rewarded. For in less than three quarters of an hour I spied two figures emerging from a taxicab, and entering the building. All of my senses alerted when I heard the lift, followed by low laughter. Owen and his companion entered the flat. It was positively my husband’s voice, and he was definitely not alone. I silently crept down the hallway, taking extreme caution not to make any sound that would alert them to my presence. The door to the parlor was partially open, and I could distinctly hear their conversation.

“Well, darling, I certainly enjoyed
myself tonight, though it was beastly having to keep from touching you. There’s the trouble with having dinner at elegant restaurants. They don’t take kindly to overt affection,” his companion’s voice said.

”I know.
I wanted you so badly all night; I thought I couldn’t bear it,” Owen laughed. Yes, dinner was lovely, but I’m awfully glad to be back here, where we can relax and enjoy one another.”

“I was aware that you desired
me, sweetheart.”

Really?
And what made you aware of it?”

“Darling, your trousers gave you away. I think the waiter
must have noticed the
‘bulge’
.”

Was
this the man I was married to? My husband? He, who had never shown the slightest interest in anything of a sexual nature, was now bantering back and forth in a suggestive, risqué, manner.

There
was silence for a few moments, and it was obvious that they were embracing. I could hear movement on the sofa, and then the rustling of clothing. “Ummmm...you taste delicious. I really am quite in love with you. I cannot bear the thought of seeing you so infrequently once that bloody baby comes. I don’t see you enough as it is.”

“I
know. I know. We shall work something out. If you would only agree to my employing you at
Winnsborough Hall
, I could see you daily. Just think, every night we could be together. I would no longer have to make such frequent trips to London. It’s going to become more and more difficult.”

“But
I would be sharing a house with your wife and baby, feeling second-rate. I couldn’t take that, darling. Can’t you just continue the trips to London after the baby comes?”

“I would like nothing better.
However, my father is adamant that I spend more time at
Winnsborough Hall
once that little brat arrives. He feels that it‘s unfair for Sophia to be alone so much. Since my parents practically forced me to marry, I don’t see why I should care at all whether Sophia is alone. On top of that, she obviously tricked me into this baby. I was so drunk. She took advantage of my condition.”

“I know, darling,” Owen’s lover continued.
“I know you would never purposely have chosen to have a child.”

“
Well, of course, that’s the reason my parents wanted a marriage so badly. It seems to me that now I’ve done my duty, and am about to produce a bloody heir, they would leave me to my own devices. The problem is, they are absolutely
potty
over Sophia. It’s getting harder and harder for me to keep our secret. I want to be with
you
. I want people to know about our love. I despise having to pretend to things I don’t feel for Sophia. Moreover, I absolutely cannot bear the thought of making love to her. Yet, I suppose that eventually she will begin to whine and complain if I don’t. Frankly, I’m surprised she hasn’t already. It’s a maddening dilemma.”

I
had heard enough. I entered the parlor and switched on the overhead lighting. Owen was lying naked on the sofa. Next to him was a very attractive, rather small, and extremely effeminate
young man
, also unclothed. I must admit that such a thing hadn’t crossed my mind until I’d heard their voices. “Hallo darling,” I said, as though I’d come upon my husband at the breakfast table. My voice echoed in the silence. Both Owen and his lover were shocked and stunned. Owen’s face turned ashen. Obviously, he had believed that he was alone with his friend.
That was why they had chosen the flat over the more elaborate surroundings of an elegant hotel.

“Good God!
Sophia! What in damnation, are you doing here? How did you get in?” Owen’s voice had a frightened tone, as well as defensive. Still, he was clearly more embarrassed and wary than he was angry. He was trying to affect quite a manner of outrage, but the tremor in his tone gave away his fright.

“It
might be more appropriate for me to ask what in damnation
you
are doing here, my dear husband,” I replied. “As to how I got in...I am your
wife
, in case that has slipped your mind. I have a key. I didn’t think you would mind putting me up for the night. It’s obvious that I should have rung you.”

“I
... I... didn’t know you were planning a trip to London,” Owen stammered. He pulled himself to an upright position, folding his hands in front of his private parts. But he was still unclothed. It had to be difficult for him to maintain composure, let alone attempt a show of outrage.

“Yes, I’
m aware of that. It was rather spur-of-the moment.” I didn’t raise my voice or create a commotion. In fact, I was quite proud later that I behaved like a lady throughout the entire ghastly scene. Perhaps that was because I felt so emotionally detached. There was nothing for Owen to say. The only thing he could not be certain about was how much I had overheard.

“What are you going to do?” he asked guardedly.

“Of course I’m extremely upset, Owen. I would suggest that we begin this conversation by ridding ourselves of the presence of this gentleman,” I said, waving a hand in the direction of his companion. The young man sat trembling from fear, trying in vain to cover himself. The poor soul looked very eager to be as far away from Sumner Street, and even from Owen, as possible. Owen looked at him in an obvious attempt to express some sense of reassurance. He whispered that he would be in touch the next morning. The young man, whose name I never did learn, scurried away like a frightened rabbit. Zipping his trousers, and tucking in his shirttail, he disappeared into the lift. Later, when I related the ghastly scene to Edwina, ever after she referred to Owen’s lover as ‘
Bulge’.
It was so like Edwina to see humor, even in such dreadful circumstances.

Owen and
I were alone in the parlor. While I was deeply shocked, I also felt pity. He had quickly slipped into his trousers and shirt, and was attempting to regain a modicum of composure. “You asked what I intend to do,” I began. “Now I think we should discuss what
both of us
intend. It is clear that you don’t love me...That you are in love with another person. Under such circumstances, I cannot imagine that you would have any difficulty agreeing to an annulment. I believe it would be wise for me to pack my belongings and return to
Willow Grove
at once. I hope and pray that this shock doesn’t affect my pregnancy. This baby means everything to me. Obviously, there can be no legal action until after the child is born. But, as soon as practical after the birth, I believe annulment proceedings should begin. You clearly married me under entirely false pretenses. I believe any Court of Law will see that this should end as swiftly as possible.” Owen just sat on the sofa, listening carefully to my words. “I cannot imagine that you will have any difficulty admitting that you are the guilty party. I don’t want to be divorced, and I don’t imagine that you do. There is the possibility that one or both of us may want to marry again someday, and a divorce could be an impediment. I
am
concerned that both of our reputations be kept intact.”

In truth
, I was ashamed of my much-maligned tone of voice, but the situation called for outrage on my part. Once again, I was putting my acting abilities to work. I felt guilty making pretense of being such a wounded and wronged spouse. There was a good deal more to the picture than Owen realized, and I felt overwhelmed at the chaotic morass of lies that had led us to such a place and time.

“
What of my family?” Owen asked.

“I have no desire to cause your fa
mily pain”.

“
Sophia, please. Please do not tell my family. It would kill them. I know you will not believe this, but I do love you. Not as I should, I know. Nevertheless, I do. I never wanted to hurt you.”

“
You said some quite nasty things to your friend before I intervened. Why did you marry me? You knew you could never be a proper husband.”

“I’
m dreadfully sorry you overheard what I said. I certainly don’t have any ill feelings toward you. My parents were hounding me to get married. It never ceased. You had always been their choice. I finally acquiesced. I suppose I hoped that marriage would make a difference.” He was openly sobbing by then, and I began to weep as well. “I never wanted to be the way I am,” he cried.

I
sank down on the sofa next to him. “Oh dear God, Owen. I cannot bear this pain for either of us,” I said. “It appears that both of us have endured parental harangue.” I made a hasty decision and continued speaking. “I’m going to tell you the unbridled truth. Perhaps it will lessen the burden upon you.”

He
raised his swollen, reddened eyes to me, with a puzzled expression. “What unbridled truth, Sophia?”

“Owen, I haven’t been truthful with you, either.
First though, you must understand that I fully intended to be a good wife to you. I would have been faithful. I would have spent my life trying to make up for not being truthful. However,
I have
told lies. Dreadful lies. Owen, the baby I’m carrying is not yours.”

He looked stunned.
Not angry. Just shocked, and I suspect that he was somewhat relieved. “Not mine? Not my baby? Then whose? This is greatly confusing. Who? Who is the father, Sophia?”

“The father, Owen, is a wonderfu
l man with whom I fell deeply in love last summer. His name isn’t important. I wasn’t able to marry him because my parents didn’t approve. They felt he wasn’t
good
enough for me. They threatened to ruin him if I went against their wishes. I was desperate when I learned I was pregnant. I wanted to keep the baby. The only way to accomplish that seemed to be to get married, and rather quickly. You were there, and I needed a husband. Moreover, just like your parents
, mine
had berated me endlessly about marrying you. It appears that neither of us was honest with the other. I can say that I care for you, Owen. I’ve grown very fond of you, but I’m not
in love
with you. I shall never love anyone again the way I loved... still love... my baby’s father. I’m sorry, Owen. Sorry for the both of us.” I felt tears welling behind my eyes.