Loneliness
I recall, many moons ago, a lady named Ethel, newly wed, was turned away by her cavalier. Better one, they whispered, than a freeofcharge service at the crossroads of the years.
Whats that to you, Kitty? a neighbour chided, A man must not be alone, and a woman always needs a man beside her. Otherwise it feels wrong and no one will ever look upon you. Do you know what loneliness is?
Whats that? Kitty asked, her voice tinged with the weary sighs of a tired mother.
Loneliness is a storm! cracked Mrs. May, eyes bright as a sunrise, oblivious to the sudden silence that fell. Its when you wish to pour water for someone, yet the children are far off!
Where? Kitty blurted, unable to keep pace.
Where, where in Yorkshire! she finally understood, that the mother above her smiled in secret, while Mrs. Mays heart lay heavy. You should do everything, but I keep an eye on you. One things hard, anothers a soulflooded, lets make a little acquaintance, shall we? Kitty, the fellow is decent. And there are those who never stop chasing, swift as a hare
Ethel had been in that garden ten years already. Her benefactor, a kindly old man she called her grandfather, had first appeared a decade before, once, chiefly. When Ethel learned of it she sent her husband to the two stables, then to the two quarries as well. Though the husband tried to convince her that once is enough and nothing strange happens without it, cracking his knuckles and shedding scant, masculine tears, Ethel remained unshaken. The garden persisted.
When the husband approached the household with gentlemanly courtesy, he left the quarry to his former wife and the two children to a modest allowance. Yet the children grew and scattered to their own corners. The son settled and toiled in Peterborough; the daughter soon married and crossed the Channel to her husband. Ethel stayed alone in a snug tworoom flat in the heart of London.
Living alone never embarrassed her. She took up a trade, a respectable profession and earnings that afforded her pleasure, and she welcomed visits from the children and Mrs. May. Though not of high intellect, she always found occupation and lived without boredom. She read much, swam, walked the countryside, loved travel, and sometimes ventured into the village with a few companions. In all, she was content.
Until the day Mrs. May decided to fix Ethels fate
Listen to me, Ethel, said the lady. A decent fellow, not yet past his prime, sixtyone years old. Seven years of separation for you both. A spacious home, decent, a farm wellkept. Cattle, goats, pigs, and chickens all there! Its a proper diet, toomilk, eggs, meat. Ten years youll live, I promise! And the man is charming, welleducated, and speaks like a bookish gentleman. Ethel, give it a try. Lets make an acquaintance, shall we?
Mrs. May pleaded at the meeting, but Ethel held firm:
Very well, May, Ill meet your gentlemanfarmer. Yet I promised nothing.
Business never changes, as they say. So Mrs. May, instead of postponing the matter, swiftly arranged a meeting between the lady and the cavalier.
The cavalier turned out to be quite ordinary. Sturdy, muscular, dressed neatly and of good quality. Hands workworn, yet clean; nails trimmed. He stood proudly, speaking softly yet loudly. He spoke little, but his humor tickled his sister for months. His name, oddly Russian, felt reliableEdward.
In their second meeting, the talk turned to Edward Katerina. She thought perhaps the ladys right hand needed a kind soul, and Edward persisted in the alliance. Were already older, lets marry and not be idle, travel with me, and settle down.
Ethel asked him to visit his farm in the woods, to see the property. There, the estate was modest, the fields neither fertile nor barren, yet visible. Two labourers worked therefaces of Asian origin. Edwards trade was never finished; he dealt with meat, milk, and other fare. It seemed Ethel, too, might become a part of Edwards business. He said:
See, Ethel, I have plenty of work. The farm needs help. Labourers are good. Yet, as they say, if you wish to do well, do it yourself. Youll be a wife, and you wont miss your own, youll manage everything. Youll need womens handsmilking cattle, gathering eggs. The house will be empty without a lady! Ill certainly kill the cattle, but a womans hand and eyes are better than any mans. Travel with me, yes? Autumn is near, sow the seed already. The chickens await
Ethel returned home, thinking. What did she truly need? She owned a splendid quarry in the city, a modest cottage where she could grow summer greens, and a small plot where she planted carrots. She owned the farm herself. Shed bought a carriage eight years ago. Where to send it, what to farm, what to clean, what to tend?
She still had to prepare a dinner for her husband, send parcels, buy groceries, keep an eye on the estate, and maintain the tidy house. Of course, the income from this venture was good, though she lived simply. The pension would come, shed have enough, and some savings as well.
All this was necessary, not only for a comfortable life for Ethel. Yet, in the spring she would bend her back in the yard, bake a cake, and climb a ladder two stories highwas that truly required? In the evening, Ethel called Mrs. May.
May, do not be offended. I must decline Edwards proposal. Perhaps some man will bring happiness, but I do not need that. He never showed genuine remorse, May. He does not simply look for a wife, but for labor. To bind him legally, I would have to kneel. Ill remain in my solitude. And in the spring, when the water must be drawn, not everyone wishes to drink
Mrs. May sighed for a long time, then a tear fell from her eye, her sorrow for the cavalier. Yet, under the influence of the solemn promise she made, that she would cease to speak to him and call him a foe, she smiled. She swore never to seek a husband again.
Ethel sent Edward a telegram, saying she would no longer attend their meetings, that her wishes had changed, and that the circumstances no longer suited him. Edward, a few days later, tried to call, but the line rang unanswered. He understood, perhaps, that a second marriage was not for him. He was a clever man.
Ethel rose at eight in the morning, brewed a small coffee, and sat down to drink it with a biscuit. She looked out the window, thinking she had not seen her children for ages; she should visit her son and perhaps send a message to her daughter on her wedding day. She also needed to buy a bag for that precious winter coat and arrange a meeting with little Lena, the village midwife.
She also thought that, perhaps, a little selfishness was not such a bad thinghealthy female ego. And so she lived on, remembering the past with a soft, reflective smile.
