Loneliness
In those days, when a lady was to be married, the suitor would come with a ring, and often she would decline. It was better to have an honest, though unpaid, companionship than a hollow promise of a summer romance.
Ah, youre single again, Emma? someone would say. A man should not be alone, and a woman is always meant to have a husband. Otherwise it feels quite odd and nobody will ever look at you. Do you know what loneliness feels like?
Know what? Emma asked, weary of the same old chatter that seemed to crush her spirit.
Loneliness is a dreadful pest! chuckled Martha, her mother, with a dry grin that hid any hint of genuine concern. Its like wanting to pour water for someone when the children have already run off!
Where? Emma replied, unable to keep up.
Somewhere somewhere in the countryside perhaps near the old ridge! Martha finally said, realizing that Emmas eyes were already sparkling with a distant mirth, and she turned to her with a smile. Youll have to get on your feet, love. Ill keep an eye on you. Its hard to be alone, yet the heart is eager for a companion. Lets get acquainted, shall we? A proper man is out there. And those who wander will soon be caught.
Emma had been single for what felt like ten years. Her benefactor, whom she called Lord Beaumont, had once, a decade before, visited her modest cottage. He had come once, briefly, and then disappeared. When Emma learned of this, she offered him her hand, only to receive a cold, businesslike refusal. He tried to persuade her that once is enough and that nothing strange can happen without a partner, all the while clinking his cup and shedding scant, masculine tears. Emma, however, remained unshaken; the loneliness stayed.
The gentleman treated the household with the courtesy of a true Englishman, leaving the former wifes garden and the two children a modest allowance. Yet the children grew up and fled in different directions. The eldest son settled in Manchester and found work. The daughter soon married and moved abroad with her husband. Emma was left to dwell alone in a cramped tworoom flat in the centre of London.
Living alone never embarrassed her. She made a modest profit from her small shop, her profession and earnings allowed her a comfortable life, and she welcomed occasional visits from her children and from Martha. Though not a brilliant scholar, she always found something to occupy her mind and lived without boredom. She read a great deal, swam, attended the local gym, loved to travel, and occasionally drifted into the countryside for a weekend retreat. In short, she was content.
Until the day Martha, unable to seal Emmas fate, said:
Listen to me, Emma. A good man, though not yet perfect, will be here in sixtyone years. Youll have a gap of seven years between marriages. A spacious home, a respectable estate, livestockcattle, goats, pigs, and chickensnothing missing! Its a wholesome diet: milk, eggs, meat. Youll live a hundred years if you keep at it! And the man will be charming, educated, and speak well of books. Emma, give it a try. Lets get acquainted, shall we? Martha implored, as Emma hesitated.
Very well, Martha, Ill meet your neighbour, the farmer, Emma replied, though she promised nothing.
Business, they say, doesnt change. So Martha, not wanting to waste her time, quickly arranged a meeting between Emma and the farmer.
The farmer turned out to be quite ordinary. Sturdy, muscular, decentlooking, with clean hands and wellkept nails. He dressed neatly, spoke modestly, and carried a short, tidy beard. He claimed he could talk endlessly, though his humor was simple. His name, oddly Russian, was Ivana name that in England might be rendered Thomas.
On their second meeting, he lingered, watching Emma with a curious glance. He seemed convinced that a solitary woman needed a warm soul by her side. Thomas was eager for a partnership, though his business dealings were still in flux. He promised milk, cheese, eggs, and a modest piece of land. He even hinted that Emma could become part of his growing enterprise.
See, Emma, he said, I have many dealings. I need a partner to help. The workers are good. But as they sayif you want something done well, do it yourself. Youll be a wife, and you wont miss a thing, youll manage everything. Well need womens hands for milking cows, tending goats, gathering eggs. And a home without a mistress is a hollow roof! Ill surely kill the cattle, but a womans touch and a gentle eye are better than a mans harshness. Come, lets talk further. The spring is coming, and the fields need sowing. The barns await.
Emma returned home, deep in thought. What was all this about? She owned a respectable garden in the city, a small side business, and a modest cottage where she liked to grow herbs in summer and bake on occasion. She also owned a carriage shed bought eight years before. She wondered where shed go, which village to settle in, and why she should toil in a farm, clean pigsties, and tend to chickens when she could live comfortably in the city.
She still had to prepare a dinner for her husband, post the bills, buy groceries, and keep the house clean. The income from her modest shop was decent, and she saved a little for her old age. Yet she knew that a comfortable retirement would still need a bit of extra cash.
All these necessities made sense for Emmas modest life. Yet she questioned whether bending her back in the fields, sowing a carrot patch, and hauling water up two floors was truly what she wanted. In the evening, she called Martha.
Martha, dont be angry. Ive decided to turn down Thomass proposal. Perhaps a hardworking man will bring someone else happiness, but its not for me. He never proved himself, Martha. Hes not just looking for a wife; he wants power. I cant be part of that. Ill stay in my solitude.
The conversation lingered long, and Emma didnt shed a tear over the farmers rejection. Yet the earnest promise shed made to herselfthat she would never again seek a husbandkept her steady. She wrote a short note to Thomas, explaining that she no longer wished to meet, that her desires had changed, and that she would not be part of his plans. Thomas called a few days later, his tone distant, as if hed realized the match wasnt meant to be. He was a clever man, after all.
The next morning, at eight oclock, Emma rose, made a quick breakfast, and sat down for a coffee with a biscuit. She looked out the window, thinking of her children she hadnt seen in years. She thought of visiting her son, and perhaps inviting her daughter for a birthday celebration. She also remembered she needed to buy a new handbag for the upcoming winter and arrange a meeting with her friend Liza, the local seamstress.
She reflected that, perhaps, a little selfishness was not such a bad thing. Healthy selfishness, a modest selfcare, could be useful after all.
Thus, the tale of Emma, once a lonely woman in the bustling streets of London, became a quiet chronicle of her choosing a life of independence over an uncertain partnership, remembered now with a wistful smile and a hint of nostalgia.
