We're Not Getting Divorced

“You must surely know what a grave insult it is to Duke Ernst that you should say such a thing at all.”

My own feelings were one thing; the absurd part was that Herman was the one I found myself worrying about first.

It isn’t as though I’d never raised the matter of divorce with Herman myself — but if he were to learn that my own family had gone out ahead of us, scouting around for a remarriage…

Herman would surely be furious. He might be hurt, too, or disappointed.

“This is no better than an insult. However much the world may prattle that we’re bound to divorce, the fact remains we haven’t divorced yet. And even so, you’ve gone and sought out houses for me to remarry into, entirely as you pleased.”

However sweetly Gloria had whispered her honeyed words in their ears, my parents ought to have drawn the line themselves.

“So the likes of you would sooner not divorce a duke after all, it seems.”

Father shook his head, his face set in distaste.

“Just so. You ought to have lived grateful for what you had in hand. And to think — it wasn’t so long ago you were throwing tantrums about wanting to marry into a fine house.”

“Wait a moment, dear. This child is the respectable lady of a house in her own right — don’t scold her so; do hear her out a little.”

Mother flung herself between us to hold Father back, then abruptly caught my hand and asked, earnest and pleading.

“Is it possible the Duke has no intention of divorcing you?”

A flicker of hope, faint and half-daring, settled in Mother’s eyes. He was a son-in-law the whole world envied her; naturally she was desperate not to lose him.

“For now — yes. He said he has no intention of divorcing me.”

“To swallow that whole — how naïve can you be.”

In the same breath, Father’s sneer came cutting across it.

“Enough. I’ve no mind to let it pass this time.”

Then, as though he’d settled something firmly in his mind, he went on.

“The reason I left you to run wild these past years — the gambling, the carousing, raging about like a lunatic — was that I thought the grief of being widowed was a loss we couldn’t wholly console away.”

“…”

“But watching you yesterday, I realized that wasn’t it at all. You were simply doing as you pleased, nothing more. Gloria — the moment you divorce Duke Ernst, I’ll send you off to remarry into one of those three houses.”

Our conversation was a repeat mark set on a score: round and round it went, only to end up right back where it had begun.

There’s no getting through to them.

It wasn’t as though I didn’t know that my parents’ push to remarry me sprang from a parent’s worry for a child. Divorce Herman, and I’d plainly be given no proper treatment, not by society and not even within my own family, so they meant to marry me off again while I was still young enough for it.

But the trouble was that I hadn’t the peace of mind to spare on bringing the two of them round to understand. I wanted, so badly, to scream at them to please, just leave me be.

“Um — I’m sorry, but I’m terribly tired. I overtaxed myself a little yesterday, and I don’t think I’m well.”

I rose from my seat without so much as finishing the conversation, crossed to the drawing room door, and opened it. There was no more to be said; stubborn as the two of them were, they plainly weren’t going to back down meekly.

“What is the meaning of this?”

Father asked, his face aghast.

“Please. I’d be grateful if you would go now, for today.”

Out beyond the door, several servants stood waiting. They minded the eyes of others too well, so I reckoned my parents wouldn’t raise their voices any further.

Father’s face was hardening by degrees. Mother, reading his mood, called to me in a voice pitched lower still.

“Child — Ria. What are you…”

“Mother, stop. My head is ringing. From now on, I’d be grateful if you would kindly arrange a proper appointment before you call.”

“Why — why, of all the—!”

He was plainly warning me to cease such rude behavior, but I had no wish to bend obediently to my parents’ will. A strange defiance had taken hold of me: to people who had branded me a problem child beyond compare, I saw no reason to be a well-behaved, dutiful daughter. More than that, I fervently wished them gone from this place before Herman Ernst returned to the hotel.

“And I say this only because a nagging worry tells me you’ll come bursting in like this and raise the matter all over again—”

I spoke, firm and resolute, to my parents, who were staring blankly at me.

“I’m not getting divorced. I’ve only just now made up my mind to it.”

I had no other choice.

Weighed against being driven out of the capital through the whole dizzying business of divorce and remarriage, staying with Herman Ernst was the better lot. And besides, without him I’d have no grounds to remain in the capital at all.

That was the moment.

“Ahem, ahem.”

Father coughed out an abrupt throat-clearing and looked away, while Mother reached out and hastily gathered up the tabloid. Was it because I looked so resolute, so unlike Gloria? Something in my parents’ reaction struck me as different from when they’d been pressing the remarriage on me.

What on earth are they looking at?

I tried to follow where my parents’ eyes were aimed. And when I realized their gaze was fixed on something behind me, a sudden chill crept up the small of my back.

“It’s just as she says.”

Together with that steady, unshaken voice, someone wrapped an arm around my shoulders.

“We’re not getting divorced.”

I gave a start and turned to look behind me. Herman lifted his thick brows a fraction and offered a faint smile.

How was it that he only ever turned up at the very worst of moments? I looked at him and swallowed down a deep sigh.

“It had already been nagging at me that I failed to pay my respects to you yesterday — so thank you for calling on us first, like this.”

He greeted them smoothly, as though he’d rehearsed it, and shut the door I’d left open. He even went to the trouble of tipping up my chin to close my slightly parted mouth for me.

“Our arrangements are wanting, but why not stay a while at your ease and take supper with us before you go?”

Then he added that he’d already had the hotel staff reserve one of the capital’s finest restaurants.

“…You said you’d be back late today.”

I murmured it to Herman as he moved to sit me back down. He had distinctly said he’d be in around evening. So how in the world had he known to come?

“I got word that my father-in-law had arrived.”

Had Elli sent him a telegram, perhaps? Or had the hotel passed him word about the callers to our room?

Even so, there was no need for him to hurry back like this.

Unable to hide my bafflement, I knit my brow without meaning to. As though he’d read my mind, Herman went on, easy as anything.

“We did wrong together — how could I leave you to take the scolding alone?”

At an answer I could never have dreamed of, my thoughts simply stopped.

Keeping a firm hold of my hand, Herman seated himself squarely across from my parents. I sank down onto the sofa after him and sat staring blankly ahead.

“Oh my, my — good heavens.”

Mother murmured it under her breath, her eyes fixed on his hand and mine. She could no more hide her astonishment than I could hide my own fluster.

By now I could no longer remember with what feelings I’d opened that door, or with what feelings I’d meant to send my parents on their way. Herman’s warmth was enough to drive it all clean out of my head.

“I don’t think I’ve ever seen Duke Ernst smile like this before.”
“Is that so? Believe it or not, I’m often told I look the better for a smile.”

Herman answered Mother with easy naturalness and offered a smile. Perfunctory though it was, to her eyes he seemed nothing but a splendid son-in-law.

“The truth is, when I saw the Duke at Gloria’s wedding, I found him rather curt. He hardly smiled, and wasn’t very warm besides. So I worried no end over our Ria…”
“Dear.”
“Oh — where are my wits. Prattling on about nothing.”

At Father’s rebuke, Mother hastily took back her words with an abashed laugh.

“It’s quite all right. It’s only natural you’d have felt so.”

But Herman, without the least trace of discomfort, only answered with another easy smile.

“At that time, I had no assurance I’d come back alive from the war. And so I could leave nothing behind me here.”

The hand holding mine tightened all at once.

“Not a soul, not a feeling, not a smile. None of it.”

Herman turned his head slowly and looked at me. Where his gaze fell, my right cheek stung; no, it fairly burned.

“But I came back alive and whole, just like this.”

Herman went on, unhurried.

“And now I mean to etch each of them into my life, one by one — everything I couldn’t leave behind back then.”

What he meant by saying all this was plain enough: to soothe my furious parents, and to show them a resolve nothing could shake. It was hard to call his sincerity something meant wholly for me, and yet, in that moment at least, his groundless, bottomless certainty carried real weight.

Perhaps my parents felt it too, for in that instant all their attention swung to me. As if to say: go on, say something.

“That is…”

In the moment I hesitated over my answer, Herman tightened his grip on my hand still further. Almost as though it were a silent signal meant for me.

“I feel just the same.”

In the end, before I knew it, I’d gone and answered.

Only then did Father nod, his face grown a good deal softer, and Mother, too, pressed a hand to her chest in relief and quietly picked up her teacup.

So in the end I’d gone and done it — told the lie.

The sincerity I’d fabricated without meaning to seemed to be enough to set everyone at ease. For save only me, wavering under a paltry pang of guilt, everyone in that room seemed to have gotten exactly what they wanted.