The Short Affair

Over a year had passed since the final judgment had been handed down in the Wilde case, and London had returned to normal. The Wilde name was now only mentioned with great derision at the clubs that the playwright and wife used to frequent. The family itself had left England completely, as well as many of the associates which Wilde had once maintained. It was said that Constance Wilde changed her last name to Holland and moved to the continent with her two sons. Except for rare exceptions, Wilde's plays and writings would no longer be staged or published in England. All this was to be expected. After his initial apprehension, Victor began to feel secure in his choice of actions. Wilde was where he belonged.

Time had moved on as well for the de Mauveche's. Virginia was now ten and was about to enter boarding school next year. John had also continued to mature, but not without difficulties. Though a good child at heart, he had developed the troublesome habit of bullying his playmates when they didn't do what he wanted. His governess and mother had repeatedly warned him about his behavior, but to no avail. When Mr. de Mauveche sternly spoke to him the bullying did stopped-but only for awhile. Victor considered it very ungentlemanly for his son to be so overbearing and hoped it was just a phase. He specifically told John time and again that it was fine to be strong-willed, but only when necessary. But it was never good to be a tyrant. Victor certainly did want a strong son, but not a bully. John had taken his father's talk-and example-about being firm to the extreme. Unknowingly, Victor had helped to create this problem, he now hoped his son would outgrow.

There had been a few other changes as well. Being under the care of a new doctor, Ruby's health had greatly improved and therefore, she was not at the de Mauveche's home as much as she had been. She and her husband had recently started a family. A new baby took up most of her time. Part of Victor was glad she had left. She was a kind woman, but when she was around her presence seemed to somehow undermine his. He had some strange notion that Ruby was some sort of bad influence because her husband had previously been good friends with Lord Alfred Douglas.

Yet even with her absence, Victor remained uneasy. The distance between he and his wife grew even more. With one of their children going away to school soon and the other often into trouble they would have to deal with each other more often. The thought troubled Victor and he hoped his wife would keep occupied with her social events and friends in the mean time.

This was not a far-fetched notion, since Constance now did have more free time. No longer entertaining Ruby, she was able to delve into her charity work even more. Each day was quickly taken up by fund raising parties for local hospitals, orphanages and women's suffrage. Unlike many of her friends, these were not simply idle, respectable causes for her. Growing up without a mother and an ever-busy father, Constance could identify with the orphan children she raised money for. Her once gravely-ill cousin showed Constance the importance of quality doctors and hospitals and simply being a thoughtful woman made her appreciate the suffrage movement.

But when the de Mauveche's were together, the issue of their marriage always resurfaced. Victor assured her of his love, but Constance could not be convinced. Never being taught the "proper" way a woman was supposed to relate to her husband, she assumed the story books were true and that a man was supposed to love his wife, not passively accept her company while he entertained other pursuits. That was simply unacceptable to Constance. Quietly she began to wonder if Victor was having an affair, but without proof her suspicions seemed unfounded. She could only pray her husband would come around to being the real companion he had been so many years ago. Yet Victor could not tell her that the whole Wilde affair had changed him. He knew he could never be the person he had been to her nor man that she wanted now.

Though the old days of Constance and Victor's love seemed lost forever, they had been memorable. When first married, the new couple would often go for long walks in the park or have a quiet dinner at a local restaurant or club. Knowing her love of reading and shopping, Victor would sometimes surprise his wife with a book by a favorite author, or after being promoted at the bank, a surprise extended holiday in Paris for her to buy whatever she wanted. Those times existed until the children got older, then Victor seemed to commit himself even more to his work. This was understandable. Even though he came from a wealthy family, he wanted to maintain his family's position and reputation, and so dedicating himself to Lenley's Bank was the natural thing to do. Constance rarely complained about his long hours because he had always been a good provider and always took his family's well-being very seriously. But then, the Wilde affair began and Victor became so caught up in it that he spent even less time at home with Constance and his children. His seeming pre-occupation with the Wilde affair seemed suspect to Constance and she started to suspect an affair. That could be the only reason that he was so distant. There was no time for together moments anymore. Even during the summer, when most of their friends went on family holidays-for Victor there was only business to attend to. Constance let it go for the time being, but one day they would have to deal with their relationship honestly and without any diversions.
But that time would not be now for this summer was going to be like all the others: business as usual.

In mid-June an annual European financial meeting was held in London, and the director wanted Victor to be the chief representative for their bank. The week-long meeting was held in the conference room of a large hotel just outside of London. Rather than travel home every night, Victor decided to get a room at the same establishment. The first few days were filled with presentations and discussions about new investments overseas in America. As this was Victor's area of expertise, he stayed for most of the week. Timely he met up with other members of Lenley's Bank, like Elliot and the director's son Michael who was shadowing him. Elliot's specialty was business development and so it was only in passing that he saw him, but even then, in their brief conversations, Victor immediately noted that Elliot was not his usual light-hearted self. Elliot denied that anything was wrong since he did not want to go into detail in front of Michael. After the final speeches at the end of the week, Victor retired to his room to get some rest before leaving later that evening. Shortly after entering his hotel room, he heard a knock at the door.

"Hello, Elliot," Victor said surprised to see him. Earlier Elliot had mentioned that he was about to leave and return home, but evidently he had changed his mind.

"Can I come in?" he asked rather cautiously.

"Of course."

As he closed the door, Victor offered him a drink which Elliot accepted. His friend then sat down in a nearby chair, looking very pensive.

"I thought you were leaving," Victor began casually, knowing he was not one to stay out late. In all their years of knowing each other this was the first time that he had ever seen Elliot look so troubled. The two men had been friends since both began working at the bank after graduating from university. Prior to that time, Victor followed his family footsteps in attending Oxford and Elliot had gone to Cambridge. If they had gone to the same school their friendship would certainly have developed sooner. They had an inexplicably subtle understanding about each other. Both came from the landed gentry and were groomed for business. They had the temperament for such work as well. Both were always frugal with simple, good tastes and competitive natures. They both maintained great loyalty toward friends and family. Yet there were some marked differences between them. As serious and formal as Victor could be Elliot was just as good-humored and easy-going. Their great contrasts as well as their similarities made them best friends.

"I was about to go home," Elliot began slowly, "But then I just couldn't. I suppose you remember why. You were there when I got the news of Rebecca's death."

Victor recalled hearing the news three years ago about Elliot's wife dying in a carriage accident. The anniversary for the funeral would have been yesterday.

"I'm sorry. You know you will always have the deepest sympathy from Constance and I. But I've never seen you like this before. I didn't know that you were still so grief-stricken."

"Well, I don't let on about it. Sometimes I'm fine but other times I miss Rebecca deeply. I can't believe that I've been alone for three years; they've passed by like a strange dream. I'm glad we didn't have a family. Her death would have been too much for me. I certainly wouldn't know how to take care of children either after she died or now." Then he looked up at Victor. "What you have with Constance and your children is enviable. It truly is."

Victor said nothing, but merely sat down on the edge of his bed, near Elliot's chair to listen to him.

"I know it sounds strange, but sometimes I feel like I was responsible for her death," Elliot continued, finishing his second glass. "I was a terrible husband. I loved her or thought that I did. I was just too consumed with everything else. Can you understand?"

"I think so," Victor tried to sympathize. He had never seen anyone looking so upset, especially Elliot. Something must be very wrong that he has not yet mentioned, Victor thought.

"I certainly liked her a lot," Elliot remarked, his face betraying the inadequacy of "liked." "And we looked so wonderful together on our wedding day. Both our parents said that we looked perfect, like two of those old Greek statues, perfectly-formed, just made for each other. But as time went on, I started to doubt that and I think she did too. Everything about the marriage was arranged, just like yours, but at least you learned to love one another. With Rebecca and I that would never be the case. We were just good friends who lived together. That was all. There was nothing between us. I provided for her, but she wanted more. She had said as much, but I was at a loss to even know what to give her. Victor, sometimes I think that she is in a better place because I made her life so miserable."

"What are you talking about? Why are you doing this to yourself?" Victor asked surprised. "She loved you and she would not have been with you had it not been for your love for her. Rebecca was not one to waste her time with just anyone. She wanted happiness from life and I am sure that you made her happy. You may have had problems like everyone else. But she loved you. She had said so plenty of times."

Elliot looked hopefully at Victor. "She did?"

"Yes, I would not lie to you about that?"

"I'm glad to hear it."

"How could you doubt it?"

"I just feel terrible. There is so much that I have lost, and it can be burdensome at times. I just was not who she wanted me to be, I suppose." Then slowly, he got up. "I need to go home," he said trying to distance himself from his rare display of self-recrimination and wiping his face. Elliot shook Victor's hand, and they briefly hugged. Then, thoughtlessly, he leaned over and kissed Victor on the cheek.

"What is wrong with you, man?" Victor said stiffening up and immediately stepping back from Elliot. "I think you should go now."

"I don't know what happened to me. Too long without a wife, I suppose. I'm so very sorry," Elliot sincerely replied. He looked shocked as Victor at what he had done.

Victor began to wonder about Elliot's state of mind. He only had two drinks. Elliot could easily handle more than that. Either way, he desperately wanted Elliot to leave. Quickly, he opened the door for him. Elliot walked passed the threshold and turned around momentarily to say a last good-bye. The sad, chastened expression the other man thoughtlessly gave as he looked back at Victor was so dejected that Victor felt he had to reconsider. He told Elliot that he could stay for only a very short time, in case the drinks were stiffer than he thought.

The idea never entered Victor's mind that Elliot was like him. In a way, it was a pleasant surprise. Victor always thought that he was the only man of his position and education that was liked men. But really he and Elliot's similarities in this regard meant nothing. Both would be chaste about their feelings. He continued to tell himself to avoid such intimacy, especially now that it was outlawed thanks in part to Elliot and himself. Victor stood there as Elliot continued talking about his life with Rebecca. If she could see her husband there in that hotel room, Victor thought, she would certainly be heart-broken considering Elliot's kiss. He thought of Constance and remained standing across the room as Elliot sat in the chair and talked, nursing his third, then fourth, then fifth glass.

After about an hour, he decided to leave. Upon opening the door, Elliot held the same thoughtlessly despondent expression as before. He really didn't want to be alone. Victor hated seeing him like that and wondered what would cheer him. He still remembered the feel of Elliot's lips and he liked it. Quickly, intentionally, Victor leaned over and kissed him, only meaning to kiss him and that was all. Now Elliot was shocked, but he did not hesitate to return the affection. Cautiously they began to embrace, both waiting for the other to stop. But that never happened. This was the first genuinely intimate affection that each man had ever experienced and though their minds were saying no, every other part ignored the warning. It would be so easy. It was Victor's hotel room. And certainly both men knew how to keep a secret.

A few moments later they were quickly undressing each other and made it over to the bed. To say that they made love would almost be an overstatement. They expressed anxious, impatient lust, with brief moments of real love. Highly curious and passionate, both reasoned that this time would never come again and so they made the most of it, learning how to give each other pleasure and mapping each other's bodies, while trying to forget the information as soon as possible. Afterwords, they fell asleep.

As Elliot gradually awoke, he realized that he was lying next to Victor. His body was no longer dictating his actions and now that his mind was becoming a little clearer he became horrified. He never thought that he would succumb to his feelings. What he had done was unconscionable. Suddenly, Elliot got up and ran to the other side of the room, barely making it to the trash before throwing up. The loud noise of Elliot vomiting awoke Victor a few moments later. Even though he wanted to help him, Victor somehow couldn't bring himself to. The view of Elliot's naked back hunched over the small wastebasket, only sickened Victor even more, reminding him of their brief, dishonorable affair. He knew very well why Elliot was so ill. Just looking at the man shamed him. In shock, Victor silently got up and got dressed to go home, trying his best to not care whether Elliot was alright. After he finally stopped being sick, Elliot cleaned himself up, got dressed and walked out of the room without saying a word to Victor.

Victor could not think of much of anything on the way home. He looked briefly at the scenes of life before him. The sky was grey and the streets were crowded. He wanted to be away for awhile but he knew that Constance was expecting him. Victor was glad that the driver was moving as fast as possible away from the hotel. It was a popular place for his company to hold international meetings, but he knew it would be the last time that he would be able to stay there. If he were asked to return next year, he would have to decline.

As the driver quickly made his way through an early London morning, Victor's thoughts began to travel back in time. What happened at the hotel somehow reminded him of something long ago. He thought of when he was a child and his father had come home early from a trip. Victor was playfully hiding from one of his cousins in a game of hide-and-go-seek in the parlor. He heard a noise outside the doors and decided to open them a little to see if it was his cousin, Robert. Yet rather than see Robert, Victor saw his father and Dr. Richards, a friend of Victor's mother, sitting very close on the sofa kissing one another. He was surprised not to see his mother with him but said nothing about it. A little later his father saw Victor holding hands in similar affection with one of his male friends. The elder de Mauveche immediately told Victor's friend to leave the room. He then turned to Victor and slapped hard across the mouth almost knocking the wind out of him, "You bugger, don't you ever do that again," he shouted, highly unusual for a man who never raised his voice. Six-year-old Victor was confused since he had seen his father act in a similar manner just a few weeks before. But he made no reply. That was the one and only time the senior de Mauveche had ever raised his voice or even disciplined his son, but Victor clearly got the message.

By the time he neared his home, the anxious pounding in Mr. de Mauveche's heart had subsided and he settled into his usual serious demeanor. The terrible events of just a few hours before were pushed to the back of his mind, and he redirected his thoughts on being the father and husband that he was. The affair never happened.

Upon opening the door Victor saw his wife talking with Marguerite. They had been quietly discussing household matters when he walked in. Victor was met by William, the butler, to whom he handed off his coat and hat. Victor then walked over to Constance, placing on her lips the longest kiss he had given her in quite awhile.

As they kissed, Marguerite left out of deference and mild embarrassment at such an open display of affection. After the kiss, the couple stood facing each other alone.

"I thought you hated cologne," she said coolly sitting down on the sofa, obviously unaffected by the show of emotion.

"What are you talking about?" he asked.

"I can distinctly smell cologne on you."

"I thought I'd surprise you."

"Well, I thought you would have remembered that I can be terribly allergic to some of those colognes. I'd have thought you'd ask me first before putting some on."

"It was an oversight. I apologize." He said walking away to look at the mail on the nearby end table. Constance was being very particular, he thought.

"Victor."

He turned.

"How stupid, do you think I am?" Constance angrily asked standing up. "Don't you think I know that something is wrong? You have been so distance lately. I know that your work takes up a great deal of your time, but you have been so busy. I feel like I don't exist to you anymore and there can be only one reason that I know of for me to feel this way, for you to be so far away from your family." She paused briefly before airing her suspicion. "You must be having an affair. Why else would you thoughtlessly be wearing cologne, except to impress some witless tart?"

"Honestly, where do you get this nonsense?" Victor asked. His voice became raised and irritated.

"Victor, you might be next in-line to run Lenley's, but I am just as quick as you are with twice as much common sense. And I know that something has been going on. For years we've been growing apart, haven't you noticed? For the past few months you've been even more distant. Tell me, if it's not an affair, what should I be thinking?"

"You should be thinking that I'm being a good father and husband," he said almost yelling.

"While getting what you need somewhere else," Constance replied unconvinced.
"What? How could you say such a thing?"

"Tell me, who is she?"

"There is no other woman."

"There'll be only one way I'll believe you," she stated then relaxed her tone some. "Victor, honestly, I want to believe you, but my instincts tell me something is very wrong. I know that most woman in my position would look the other way, but Victor you know that you did not marry that sort of woman. Now," she said more calmly, "talk to my uncle. We'll go see him together and if he determines that there is no other woman you've been seeing, that will be the end of the matter. I'll not question you further."

Still angry Victor took the mail into another room. Walking away he yelled, "Just set the date and time."

That Sunday after evensong, the de Mauveches and the Bishop Thornton met in his office. Constance explained the situation while Victor remained silent. The Bishop was a minister of God, Victor thought, not God himself. Why should he talk to him about a matter between his wife and himself? Constance placed far too much confidence in her uncle, he concluded. But Victor was in no position to dispute her. He hoped that nothing would come of this situation. In order to not incriminate himself, he had already decided not to speak unless spoken to.

After hearing his niece's suspicions, the bishop sat for a moment with a surprised look on his face. Then he turned to Victor and looked at him squarely asking, "Is there another woman in your life?"

"No, there is no woman in my wife except Constance."

"Have you been having an extra-marital affair?"

"No." Victor reasoned that it had only happened once and would never happen again. It certainly wasn't on-going. He hadn't been having anything.

"Then why are you distant, as Constance says?"

"She doesn't believe me, but I've been very busy." He then turned to his wife. "That conference a few days ago is meant to help finance American railroads. People came from overseas to talk to myself and others from the bank. It is the nature of my business," he said, started getting upset again.

"You've had projects before but you've never so completely avoided me."

"I would never avoid you," he lied and then backed it up with some truth. "In fact, I've been thinking we should go away on holiday to Spain. The change of scenery would do us both good."

"Perhaps," she said, her cynical expression unchanged.

Victor had already blocked off three weeks in his schedule and made the initial travel arrangements. It was a done deal.

In spite of lingering apprehensions, Constance decided to believe her husband. She had done what she could to determine his fidelity. They returned that evening after a late dinner at one of Victor's clubs where he revealed the two tickets to Spain. He suggested that the children could stay with family and Marguerite could return home to visit her parents in France while they were away. Though surprised that he'd acted so quickly and still a little suspicious, she accepted the invitation. They were set to leave in a week. Their trip would begin in the Basque area near the Pyrenees and would end in Andalusia in the south-a very relaxing journey through warm, pleasantly unfamiliar country. The more Constance thought about it, the more her suspicions began to wane and she started to look forward to the trip. Months of fund-raising had begun to wear on her. Although she loved what she did, she welcomed a break from its stress.

After accepting the plans Constance felt it only proper to tell Elliot about the trip since the next fund-raiser was to be a joint venture between them. Constance had needed extra money to help with a hospital fund-raiser and thought that Elliot would be the best person to assist. Months ago he had accepted her invitation. But because of the Spain trip, she sent him a telegram to meet at a club to discuss the change in date. Elliot came with his intense nervousness well-hidden below his usual graciousness and easy manner. Constance talked about the vacation and Elliot understood completely, saying that they both deserved a long holiday. He took it upon himself to conduct the fund-raiser alone, an arrangement that Mrs. de Mauveche thought too much for him considering his schedule. He insisted however and Constance relented. Because of the effort involved, it was easier to have the fund-raiser at his home. Happy with the agreement, they embraced cordially and said good-bye. As they hugged though, she took a deep breath and sighed wearily, as if something had been weighing on her mind. Elliot asked if everything were alright. Not wanting to show her worry, she said everything was fine. But she did notice something.

"That is the same cologne Victor was wearing a few days ago."
Elliot stiffened as his voice tensed with fear. "It's popular," he said trying to hide his worry.

"What's wrong? You're as white as a ghost, Elliot. Are you ill?" she said noticing his aspect.

"I'm fine. Working too hard, I suppose."

"Well, you should take better care of yourself. You know, I have been considering telling a single friend of mine about you. Her name is Alice.
But I can't if you insist on wearing yourself thin."

Just then Elliot's face took on the most unusual expression, a mixture of sadness and apology.

Constance just looked at him with concern. Through Victor she'd gotten to know him and considered him a friend. "Get some rest. You don't look well at all."

Elliot shook his head in agreement and sat down. Constance said her good-bye and left.

Something inside her mind had immediately made the connection but she tried desperately to keep herself from believing it. It was no wonder Elliot looked so troubled.

It was misting as Constance left the club. She thought to get a carriage but soon changed her mind and decided to walk for a little bit. She had much to think about.

How long had this been happening? she thought. Elliot and Victor had been friends for years. Had they always been like this? Had there always been an affair? She grew angry with each passing moment, thinking about Victor's deception. Doing exactly what she was supposed to be doing, being the dutiful mother and wife, Victor turns around and pretends she does not matter at all to him and cheats on her. Strangely enough, the entire situation reminded her of a similar circumstance her older brother had gone through. Though only eleven at the time, she recalled the incident well. Her older brother Edward had showed promise of being a great artist and spent all his time apprenticing in the studio of a well-known painter. But things took a turn for the worst after her father had learned of an affair he was having with one of the male models in the studio. The model was some poet of promise, she recalled. Their father voiced his great disapproval of the relationship. The affair was stopped immediately it seemed, since the writer didn't come around anymore and her brother got married six weeks later. In fact, now his eldest daughter was about to have a small showing of her art work at a new gallery near her brother's home, an event which Constance had promised to attend. She wondered if her brother and the writer were still seeing each other. They had been inseparable when she did see them those many years ago. She remembered feeling very sorry that the writer had to go. He was a very nice gentleman, one of the few people in her life that noticed her. Both her father and older brother were very stern men and too caught up in their work most of the time to pay her much attention after her mother had passed away. It was not until her uncle, the Bishop Thornton stepped in to help raise her that she was actually being taken care of. She regretted the harsh hand that society had dealt them both. She could sympathize to a degree but her circumstance with Victor was different. How could he do that to me and the children? she thought to herself indignantly. I have met other men who are ten times more attractive and charming than Victor, but I don't say so much as hello to them. The minute he gets the chance, he betrays me. If it were true that he loved only men, then he must have been hiding this part of himself for a long time. But no matter what he had been hiding, there are principles, there are commitments!

Constance finally called a hansom and rode home. Her anger became more pronounced with each passing minute, so much so that Victor was almost too afraid to ask if there was something wrong as she walked in the door and handed her coat and hat to William. Constance waited until the butler had left before saying anything.

"Why? Do I look like something is wrong?" she asked coolly, a tone that she found herself using frequently now.

"You're usually rather happy."

"Well, it must be the weather."

"Well, you've never been one to let anything dampened your spirits," he replied with a placating smile.

"No," she replied simply. "But I fear a bad storm is coming."

"That is fairly sensitive of you. You and your uncle make an interesting pair. He can sense people's honesty and you changes in the weather."

"Yes, about that," she thoughtfully said smelling the orchids nearby. "I should have never doubted that you were telling me the truth about your supposed affair with some woman."

"I forgive you," Victor said looking much more serious than he sounded.

"Yes, and I forgive you," she said looking squarely at him. Without mentioning a specific word she had settled upon his greatest fear. "Or rather one day I will forgive your real affair with your...friend." Part of her still wanted to think it was untrue but after seeing the expression on her husband's face, it was clear that her fears were well-founded.

Constance continued to smell the flowers and changed the subject. "I pray it won't rain in Barcelona. I'm so tired of this dreary weather."

Considering the circumstances, Spain was more tolerable than either of them had anticipated. Constance really needed the break. Though it didn't seem like much work to Victor, organizing parties and talking to church leaders, political officials and philanthropists, many of whom couldn't care less about women or the poor was enough to make most throw up their hands in frustration. But Constance was never one to shy away from challenges. Victor, though raised a traditionalist, admired this in his wife and it was one of the qualities that made them friends. He knew that such courage was severely lacking in himself. So as they traveled through old vineyards and toured the beautiful old buildings of Andalusia, they followed Constance suggestion of appearing to be the happy couple they had once been. The change in scenery, warm weather and time away from responsibilities made the trip very enjoyable. The fact that neither discussed the affair was another plus. They planned to avoid the topic and successfully did so. As they openly pretended to be content, they imagined a happier time. But both began to wonder what would happen upon returning to London.

The same misty weather that had sent them off greeted them on the return boat from Spain. Marguerite had returned a day earlier and had the children dressed very nicely, standing near the door to say hello as their parents walked in. Upon seeing them, they hugged them both before excitedly updating them on all the things they did while visiting relatives. Victor could not imagine no longer seeing Virginia but he would have to soon as she would leave for boarding school in a few months.

A fear began to grip him as they sat down to dinner that evening. Its hold on him would continue for days afterward. What if he were unable to see either of his children again? Constance would be very justified in keeping them away from him. He could easily be considered a bad influence, a deviant. Anyone in her place would do that. As he thought more about it, he began to regard Constance with a strange mixture of respect and fear, which his wife found unwarranted. She was not one to take away the children from their father. Virginia and John were their children and would remain such, no matter what happened between them. For her part, though, she had seriously considered some sort of redress.

The prospect of losing his family made Victor seriously contemplate his situation. He hoped that his wife would not be too undone about the affair, and that her anger would eventually subside. Victor was not in the habit of lying. Though the affair had brought forth some of his faculties in that area, the discovery was to some extent a relief. He could not stand the guilt of his actions, not immediately after the affair nor later. Now that the secret was out, the stress of concealing it was gone. Now the repercussions were coming.

Upon returning to work he was surprised to hear that Elliot had taken a job at Lenley's New York branch. He had left shortly after Victor went on holiday. Elliot, not neglecting his engagement with Constance, mailed her a telegram letter to let her know that an opportunity came up in New York. He referred Constance to a friend of his who volunteered to host the fund-raiser. He understood Elliot's move but was still shocked that he took it without mentioning his decision with anyone. Even thinking about Elliot made Victor feel sick and ashamed. So, by and large, he was glad that his friend was gone, though he missed him greatly.

In time Constance began to discuss a symbolic separation, with her living at Ruby's house for the time being. He pretended to not mind, but it bothered him immensely. Everyone was leaving him. And for someone who so used to having control over himself and every situation in his life, it was terrifying. This was the beginning of the end, Victor thought. There was no guarantee that his wife would not one day change her mind, think ill of him and refuse to let him see their children. Out of a strange desperation which he had never known before, Victor began to fear all the bad which could follow from his affair. He apologized for it daily through the extreme deference he gave to Constance's every wish. He may not have been the perfect husband but he could at least make her as happy as possible now. Though Constance did not want her husband to be guilt-ridden, but she could not change his feelings. He would have to find someway to relieve himself of his regret alone.

One day, as the children were playing with Marguerite and Constance was making arrangements to move in with Ruby, he found himself sitting alone in his room. He was about to write a letter to his family saying that he had to go away for awhile. He had contemplated going to the continent. Then a thought that had been circulating in his mind for sometime resurfaced. He would write a letter, not to his family but to the once-famed Mr. Wilde. Recent events put into perspective the reasons why he had so eagerly helped to put him in prison. Though certainly some of his unsavory acquaintances and his own gross imprudence helped his social decline, Victor's actions were clearly uncalled for. He had to apologize, yet he was so unsure where to begin. So he began with what seemed most appropriate. He wrote:

You don't know me. But I, and probably most of London, know you. I was one of those men along with the Marquess of Queensbury, who helped to put you where you are today. But I am writing not as you might presume. I am not gloating nor adding more injury to your already injured state. This is a sincere apology. Though you did-and were assumed to have done-many things that most civilized people would think unconscionable, you still were unjustly accused and made to stand trial for a crime that many have committed but are exonerated from either through position, secrecy, money, or all of the above. One can only imagine the pain that your wife and children have suffered during those years you spent with having your affairs. But as I said, yours was not an unusual affair, but only an unusually candid one.
Perhaps it is not in your nature to hide as well as most, but I certainly hope-perhaps vainly hope-that you can forgive those that sent you to prison so quickly and for so long a time.
I may be very reckless in writing this letter, but it is the most gentlemanly thing I can do under the circumstances.
Sincerely,
V. deM.

Only having met him twice, Victor was certain that the writer would never be able to trace his handwriting or name and he was right. Even after Mr. Wilde was released from jail and a few of his writings surfaced in a local paper, he never heard from the man personally. He wanted it like that. The letter had served its purpose; after mailing it Victor felt better.

Time passed. Mr. Wilde died three years after Victor wrote the correspondence. The de Mauveche's separation became final and their children would continue to grow into respectable people. Virginia married a wealthy banker and move to France and John would graduate from Oxford and join Parliament just like his grandfather. For the time being, Victor had to adjust to a new life. He and Constance were ex-spouses but remained friends. At the same time that they were divorcing, Victor was made head of Lenley's Bank. During most of his tenure the bank boasted increased profits and investments which made it one of the largest and richest banks in Europe. But he left after seven years, for at the high point of his career, he wanted some peace and quiet finally in his life. And so he stepped down at age forty-seven, bought a manor house and entered into semi-retirement.