Author's Note: For everyone who has read and especially those who've reviewed, my most heartfelt thanks. In the (overly long) gap since I last posted, your comments have helped remind me why I bother. I appreciate all of you, and I hope you keep enjoying what I'm doing here...
Disclaimer: I don't own rights to any works of Thomas Hardy, and don't want to upset anyone by, well, restructuring and drastically changing his great work. Please don't sue me, either way- I just bought a house and all of my money is being eaten by faulty plumbing.
Could it only have been a week that passed between that conversation and the day that we stood at my father's grave for the funeral? It seemed to me that in that week the entire world had altered irrevocably. As if I awoke everyday to a world that had shifted as I slept, but I kept moving through the changing landscape as I always did, somehow apart from all of it- hope of escape filling me, lighting my path.
Every jibe, every stare, every disdainful remark only barely concealed as conveyance of regret for Father's death that came from the townsfolk did serve a purpose; they all reinforced my conviction that leaving this ghastly place once and for all was the only option. Instead of feeling a sense of nostalgia or sadness at leaving forever a place that I had always called home, I began to feel an urgency which culminated in the fact that I had to force myself to stay in place long enough to even attend the funeral.
Mother had decided to wait out the terms of the lease, would follow to Trantridge on Lady Day, when relocations were so plentiful as to be barely noticed. I think she pretended to herself that, by doing so, she could allay gossip that she was leaving because the lease would not be renewed, and that because the town desperately wanted the whole lot of us gone. Never mind that the ones who would be doing the gossiping were the ones ensuring that the family had to leave- it was a logical thought and, as such, had little to do within the confines of my mother's mind.
All of my belongings- not that there were many- were packed into a wagon, and Alec and I were to abscond once the dirt was returned to the earth, covering over the wasted remains of the late Jack Durbeyfield. At the suggestion of one of the vicars, the tombstone was inscribed with a phrase- "How are the mighty fallen." It seemed bitter and condescending, but fit in well with the general attitude toward my father, so it raised few eyebrows.
Securely tucked into the wagon was a bag featuring mostly linens. But swaddled in the linens was a jar which contained a clipping from the rosemary bush that I'd planted years before on Sorrow's grave. I would plant the clipping in the garden of Trantridge, and so our son could always be somewhere safe, somewhere peopled by family and at least one person who loved him. Whether I stayed there or moved anywhere else, I knew that Sorrow would be honored by Alec. That was the only way I could bear to leave his grave with no one to tend it, no one to remember him with the love and tenderness he deserved.
We bid farewell to my family, the children crying and clinging to both of us despite knowing they were to follow along before much time had passed. But a month or two is an eternity to the young, and they grieved as though we'd never meet again in this life. Liza kissed my cheek, but wouldn't allow the tears in her eyes to show in her voice as she wished me safe journey. She shook Alec's hand and wished him the same, but gave a look which seemed to indicate that if harm befell her sister, vengeance would be hers.
Alec was wise enough to not laugh or make light of her mistrust, instead he thanked her for entrusting him with my safety, and promised to protect and respect me during our separation from the rest of them.
Finally, we lit out, down the road, over away and beyond into the future.
"Alec, feel free to drive as insanely as you desire- I've a distinct wish to distance myself from that place as quickly as possible."
He laughed. "I was going to say that my impulse was to drive slowly as possible, to draw out my time with you, but then I remembered that we're both going to the same place. I think I am afraid to believe you're really coming. I half expect you to change your mind, ask me to let you out somewhere else, and wander out of my life again."
"Don't be silly. Although, if I wanted to punish you, sending my mother to your house and leaving you alone with her might do the job. No- there, I shouldn't say such things. She's had a difficult life and a trying time; taking care of all of us and father could not have been easy. Perhaps, once she settles in to this new part of her life she'll be more herself."
"I think so. I don't know the woman at all, and I'm certain she's earned your distaste for her, but she always struck me as a woman doing the best she could with what life's given her."
"Well, these days she strikes me as a woman convinced that I am literally whoring myself out to a wealthy benefactor- and it's a plan she endorses most heartily."
Alec's expression betrayed a confusion- was he more horrified or amused by this misconception?
"She truly believes that? That you're coming out to be my kept woman? And she is accepting of the notion?"
"Oh, entirely- she congratulated me for finally doing something right. I tried explaining that nothing of the sort is going on, but she insisted on believing I was simply being demure, which she said was a mark of being well-bred, of the d'Urberville blood showing through."
Now Alec did laugh, and most heartily. "You don't seem too upset about it."
"My mother is my mother. If I were surprised, I might be offended or something of the sort; as it is, I simply content myself with knowing the truth and letting her believe whatever version of the truth she dreams up for herself. At this point her silly ideas can't hurt me much, so I'm not bothered by them."
Returning to Trantridge felt strange yet familiar. I was entering the house on very different terms from how I'd first arrived, but still felt the old sensation of awe and intimidation at its size and grandeur. But Alec's easy manner put me at ease and helped me keep a sense of perspective- I was no longer a servant of anyone, and was instead somewhere between guest and mistress of the house. The latter was an insistence of his, but I kept shrugging it off- referring to me as mistress of Trantridge implied something which did not exist between Alec and myself. Despite plans to stay indefinitely, thinking of myself as a guest seemed the easiest terms.
It had been decided by both of us, but mostly me, that I would be living in the main house with Alec while Mother and the younger children stayed in the caretaker's house. I insisted that, once she arrived, Liza-Lu should be the one to decide which location suited her the best. When I was her age, every decision affecting me had never involved me, and I wanted better for my lovely sister.
I wandered from room to room in an effort to see which was mine. I had a sense that, when I stepped into the right room it would cry out- 'Me, me! Pick me!' Amid all the elegance in room after room, only one seemed the sort of place I could imagine spending my nights. The decorations and furnishings were all like the clothes Alec had bought for me- lovely, well-made, serviceable, comfortable, but not flash or garish. Of course, as luck would have it, I selected the room next to his.
We decided to take dinner in my room- aside from being too tired to dress for a proper meal and being filthy from the drive, in a short time I'd grown a deep affection for the palette of greens that decorated the place, and wanted to spend more time basking in their soothing coolness.
After eating, I wandered to the bed and plopped down onto it, my head at its foot. I propped my chin in my hands and smiled at Alec, who bore that pensive look which meant he wanted to ask me about something, but didn't want to bother or upset me.
"Go ahead- whatever it is, Alec, just say it." I smiled to offset the commanding tone, and he sighed.
"It's none of my business, I know, but I wanted to ask you something." I gestured for him to continue and he did, hesitantly. "Have you thought about possibly sending word to the Clares? Letting them know where you are, just in case…"
"Just in case Angel ever comes back, just in case he wonders where I am, just in case he wants to track me down?"
"Well, I was also thinking that if they were to receive notice that something had, God forbid, happened to him overseas, it might simplify matters if they could reach you. For all you know, one or the other has happened- his return or his demise- and they aren't sure where to find you to tell you. Surely you would want to know."
I sighed heavily. "It's not a bad idea. And you are right- he might have done either and I would likely not be told. If it's his parents doing the looking, I doubt they'd bother to look too far. I never met them, but-"
"Tess, I told you- I think they were more curious about you than disapproving, and would have been readily charmed by you. They can be stern, but they are good people- unlike his brothers, bloody hypocrites."
"At any rate, I don't know if I want to know what happened to him. Plenty of people get married and when it doesn't work, they go their separate ways and pretend like the marriage never happened; or, they act like a divorce happened, even if it didn't. My marriage was practically stillborn, almost never happened, and I never even used his name. It's already less and less like something that occurred, so pretending it never did wouldn't be too difficult."
"But if you ever wanted to marry again, you wouldn't be free to do so unless something official happened. Something legal, saying the marriage ended or that it never happened, or that he died."
"Why ever would I desire to marry a second time? Even if I were to be so inclined- if I loved someone, really loved someone and wanted to spend my life with them, I think I would be content to be their wife in spirit and in truth, if not in name. Doing it all officially and legally, having a minister say some words in front of our friends, swearing our undying love and devotion to each other- that didn't result in anything that ever seemed truly binding in a way that kept my husband by my side the first time around. Who's to say that if I did it again, I wouldn't get left behind a second time?
"I like to think that there are things that can bind people together in a way that is more real than sworn testimony and signed documents. I like to think that it's possible I'll love someone so much, and they'll love me so much that our very souls can become as one. That we'll love each other in a way that is more real and true than anything I've known so far, and that the love is stronger and better because we will know that, in choosing to love each other, we're choosing to stick it out, to never leave one another, to always be together and to mean it when we say 'for better or worse.' I think love isn't worthy of the word unless it implies a commitment as well as a passion- and I'll settle for nothing less.
"I'm sorry- does that shock your Christian soul? Or just sound like a silly schoolgirl wish?"
He was looking at me with the oddest expression, one I could not decipher. At my queries he shook his head and smiled. "Neither actually. Perhaps I've still enough of the degenerate in me to think you make perfect sense. And as for whether it's a schoolgirl dream, I'd say not. I think a love like the one you describe is the desire of everyone. Perhaps most wouldn't say it out loud, but you've never been most people Tess, and that's why I treasure you so."
He rose and leaned over me on the bed. He lowered himself so that his face was just next to mine, and kissed me on the forehead.
"I shall leave you in peace now. Unpack your things, change your clothes, what have you. You have free reign over the house, go wherever you like. I shall simply go to my room, but if you need anything, either ring for Maisie or come to me. Goodnight, sweet Tess."