Clara Adley

I don’t know how long I’ve felt numb for. It’s the only thing I’ve felt in a while now. Every day is full of nothing, echoing the last. I keep trying to make myself feel something, anything, but I always end up in the dark, alone, with no one beside me. Lonely is a curious word. Its definition only scratching at the surface of what it means to be lonely. Loneliness is not just the absence of company, it’s the lack of anything. No warmth, no emotions, no passion. Only now do I truly understand what it means to feel lonely. As a child, I felt lonely when my governess would tuck me into bed, with out so much as a good night. I felt lonely when my father was too occupied with his books to smile at me as I passed by his study. I’ve come to learn that loneliness runs much deeper than what I believed. 

I decided to move to Bath when I met Mr Adley and became enamored with how much life he had. During one of the many Winter balls, I locked eyes with the bluest eyes I had ever seen. Crystalline, yet deep, I felt the waves of desire crashing in my stomach. His soothing, reassuring voice when he asked me to dance was the consummation I needed, to know that he would be mine and I his.

I was infatuated, and upon being asked to marry and move in the same month, I was sure to accept his unparalleled offer. I became Clara Adley within weeks, and settled into my new found role with ease. Bath is quite different to Marlborough. You could never want for company, so my childhood loneliness soon dissipated. We would attend dinners and balls, and I would shop to my delighted heart’s content. For 2 years and 3 months, I never once felt lonely. My Mr Adley, and new friends Emma Brampton and Jane Shipley were always by my side. I never wanted for anything more than the life I had been given right there, in those cherished moments. But after that time passed, I became detached from this delightful reality. 

It was a Tuesday evening when Mr Adley left me. Or at least I think it was the evening, as I cannot remember anything past our final dinner. I’ll admit I can have a disagreeable disposition at times, but Mr Adley assured me that he loved the fire in my eyes. But, now that he had gone, all that was left behind them was the ashes of what was once a burning desire for life. 

I wander through the city almost daily, searching for the remnants of what once was. My head is sore with a wretched pounding that never ceases. My dress clings to my aching bones in the forbidding Winter wind. Each step is laced with sorrow and grief, as I try to make my way back into my previous existence. The crowds of people can be heard from a mile away. The commotion that occurs every morning as the horse-drawn carriages began their journeys, with their large families waving them off. The trickster street sellers, who would always strike up the most lively conversation with you in a bid to sell their goods. The joyous cheering of a gathering as an engagement is announced, or a newborn has been safely delivered. Now I am nothing but an invisible guest at party I wasn’t invited to. My loneliness has come back these days, and I feel it more with each over looked greeting, with every ice cold stare seeing straight past me. I am no longer welcome, and I have reverted to my state of loneliness. 

I begin to make my way down to the bank, with out so much as a kind greeting back from the society I was once so fond of. From across the bustling street, I can see an abundance of red curls. It couldn’t be, dear Jane Shipley! It had been such a long time since we had last met, that if it weren’t for her fiery locks, I would have never identified this lady as Jane. She was busy chattering away with one of the piemans, most likely discussing her previous purchase. I so desperately wish to speak to her, and divulge all of my woes, but my weary legs do not move how fast I wish them to. I edge through the crowds of people, making my way across to her. Trying to navigate the ocean of bobbing heads is becoming an impossible task and as I glance up once more she is gone. Dear Jane has moved along and I, stood amongst this chaotic crowd, am once again alone. 

Perhaps it is for the best we didn’t meet. I’m most certain that Mr Adley has informed the whole of Bath that his dear wife had become unbearable to live with due to her intolerable nature. I would much rather not have to face the pitying look on Jane’s face as she realizes I am completely estranged from the world. 

I must make my way to the bank before noon, or I shall miss him again. Dragging my exhausted body all this way is testing, but I must persevere, I have to see Mr Adley again. Past the once so familiar dress shops, with their windows dressed so fanciful. Down past the bakers, who’s fresh smell of warm bread seems to have disappeared. Further more still, and through the narrow alleys I so easily used to navigate with Mr Adley, with our hands entwined and hearts full. Until, finally I come to Adley and Marlowe Bank. The windows are thick with dust, so thick I can barely make out the shapes of the workers. Darting my eyes to and fro, I still cannot see him. I think Charles Marlow, is pacing around with some kind of book in his hand as he begins to mouth stern words to a young fellow. I must get inside. 

My peeping is interrupted by a gentleman no older than 25 mounting the stairs to the front door. He does not glance at me. His gaze is focused on the steps under his expensive shoes and the door at the top of the climb. I am not even worthy of the gaze of a stranger, let alone Mr Adley. What ever will he think of me skulking about his place of work, dressed in such a fashion. I catch a glimpse of my hollowed cheekbones, and colourless eyes. But still, I cannot shake the feeling that I must talk to him. He must answer me. You cannot up and leave after dinner, only to never return home to your wife. You cannot act as though I never existed, and carry on about your work day while your wife is left desolate. How does he sleep at night, do his demons not visit him as do mine? Are you not plagued by that Tuesday evening? That evening that I cannot even full piece together. My memory is full of unanswered questions, and muddles that I cannot unpick. Mr Adley you cannot expect me to live like this. 

I find myself inside the entrance as a strong gale blows open the front doors which I’m sure caused quite a disturbance! However, Mr Marlowe simply drew his attention towards the open doors and myself with no concern about his face. Suddenly aware of how unsightly I must appear to these well dressed gentlemen, I wish to run out, back down the icy steps, through the narrow alleys and all the way back home where I am safe. Safe and alone, without the vacant stares of those around me. My rejection from the society I was previously so central of, has left me exiled and solitary. 

I must remember my reason for being here. I need to hear it from his lips. I need to know why I am so deserving of such loneliness. Why must I suffer until my time on this Earth ends without so much as a touch of human decency? I need to speak to Mr Adley, but where is he. Why can I not see him? He should be here, it is barely noon so he has no reason to not be. I turn about, searching for his coat and hat, for any sign that he is near, when out of the corner of my eye, I spot a familiar face. Just through the window, I can make out his form. It has to be him! Dashing down the stairs, faster than I have moved in such a long time, I begin to chase Mr Adley. 

“Mr Adley!” I called, but he remains indifferent. “Mr Adley, if you do not wish to have anymore to do with me, please say something. Just one word of confirmation, and I will be gone.” Nothing. He does not even turn his head to look behind him. “Do you have nothing to say to your wife?” I know this question reached him, as I saw his head turn every so slightly. But still, his lips remained sealed. I finally catch up to his pace, and he will not look at me. He must feel ashamed, ashamed of what I have become, ashamed that he is accountable for it. 

We walk in silence, and I notice that we are headed towards the church. Why ever would Mr Adley be going to church midday instead of work? And as we are unable to have a respectable conversation, I will continue to walk this path until he can provide me with the answers I deserve. 

My body is feeling more cumbersome than ever. Trying to keep up with Mr Adley is proving harder than it ever was before, and I am grateful when we finally reach the church and his pace begins to slow, almost matching my own weary steps. Mr Adley veers to the left and heads towards the churchyard. His dead mother was laid to rest in this very churchyard, and I wonder if it is near the time of year that she passed. Mr Adley was always doted on his mother, and her passing greatly affected him. I couldn’t get him to eat for 3 weeks, until one day he reappeared in the dining room looking right as he ever did, asking what meals were planned for the day ahead. 

As we reach the corner, I notice that we have walked past his mother’s carefully tended to grave until finally we come to a stop and Mr Adley drops to his knees. “Mr Adley, whatever is the matter?”. He does not look up at me. I see him fumble in the pockets of his navy coat to retrieve what appears to be a letter. He places it carefully next to the dried up flowers thrown on top of the mound. Before I know it, he has already started heading back out towards the entrance of the churchyard, leaving me stranded in this holy burial ground. It’s not use me trying to catch up to him now, not with how tired I have become. Perhaps it is best to take a short rest before attempting to make my way home. 

There’s something quite calming about this place, something almost tranquil. I can hear the birds twittering up in the yew trees above me, as the gentle breeze tickles the back of my neck. I was alone, but I didn’t feel lonely. I happen to glance upon the unmarked envelope Mr Adley left for his deceased recipient, and I know that I shouldn’t, but I am compelled to open it. Who was this person he felt so strongly about that he would leave in the middle of the day? I must settle my muddled mind, and with that I have torn open the seal. 

“These demons that live inside me are eating away at my mind each night as I lay awake until the early hours. Sometimes I think that I can hear your voice calling softly to me while I work, when I close my eyes I still see your panic-stricken face as I made the decision to live without you. Sometimes I think to stop by the house, and I could have sworn that  you are staring out of the bedroom window back at me, but I know it must be impossible. The fire saw to the ceilings and floors being beyond repair.  I pray that you can find it in your broken heart to forgive me and give me peace. I cannot escape these visions of you. Please, rest and leave me be.”

My head is spinning all of a sudden, and I cannot see straight. Visions of violence and flames are clouding my eyes. My trembling hands can no longer steady myself on the headstone and I can’t help but slump to the ground. The damp grass is softly kissing my face as my eyes once more read the name on the head stone. “Clara Adley”.