Chapter 20 - The Solicitor
Scarlet asked Frankie to stop at the church so she could drop her package at the jumble sale. “And what is it, ma’am?” he inquired, eyes sharp. She displayed it. “Oh, that’s lovely, that is! See his lovely red coat! Matches the foxes’ coat! I’d accept it in payment, ma’am, if you’d be willing. Put it in the window of the garage.” Scarlet thought that would be perfect. So pleasant to imagine Candi coming to town, stopping at the garage and seeing her own handiwork showcased between the neon, the Michelin man and the Pirelli tire girls. “That would be fine by me,” she said. Pelham D’Arcy was a youthful man trying to make himself seem older – or so Scarlet assumed – by dressing and posing as a revenant from the nineteenth century. He had the most extraordinary moustache – as carefully trained as a miniature bonsai bush – and he had a way of stroking it when speaking which meant Scarlet couldn’t take her eyes off it. He first apologized that he handled marriage contracts as a usual matter, but he did have a “small” practice in divorce. “Marriage contracts?” Scarlet collapsed exhausted into a chair, feeling if she had any strength she would just walk out of there. Marriage contracts? And I used to think wedding vows would be enough! Ian had promised before God to cleave to her before all others, to worship her body with his body until death did them part. If a man was ready to go back on THAT, what help would a contract be? She feared the worst about this solicitor, but at this particular moment she was far too tired to seek further. She summoned up as much strength as she could manage and explained her situation. “Yes, I am afraid as a matter of law the wife and children are entitled to only one third of the husband’s income,” he confirmed. “Any income she makes would be added to that pool – she still gets only a third.” “I don’t have any income,” said Scarlet faintly. “And your husband’s income, if I may ask?” “I don’t really know,” Scarlet admitted. “He’s negotiated something with the BBC. It seems to include a flat.” “Well that’s unfortunate,” said D’Arcy, “decidedly unfortunate. What’s to prevent them cutting you out?” “Why would they cut me in? Are you saying the BBC would conspire with my husband to cheat me?” “Goodness no,” he gasped, “I am saying no such thing. On the other hand, if your husband is seen as a desirable acquisition they will attempt to accommodate his needs. If not, they may of course, simply get rid of him. This is a most awkward time for the pair of you to decide that your marital difficulties are insoluble.” Scarlet looked at his hands – no wedding ring to be seen – only a sizeable carnelian pinky ring that looked to have just been dipped in the red wax seal of some top secret document. “I just gave birth to our first child,” she said as calmly as she could, “And my husband announced that he has a girlfriend, he’s keeping his girlfriend and he will always have girlfriends. I don’t want to be in that kind of a marriage. If I get a separation, first, instead of a divorce, there’s a chance – just a possibility, mind you, that Ian will come back to sanity. Come round.” It wouldn’t happen. She could no longer force herself to believe it. How could she ever trust him again? Wouldn’t he simply wait for the next time she was incapacitated and vulnerable to spring something similar – or something even worse, if that could even be imagined – upon her? “I can’t recommend marital gambits, I’m afraid.” Said D’Arcy in a decidedly chilly manner. “Possibly your doctor –“ “Separation or divorce,” said Scarlet, matching his cold tone, “Which do YOU recommend?” “Separation,” he agreed, “If what you say is true.” “Do you have any law female partners? At this firm?” Scarlet rapidly was losing patience with this troglodyte. He drew back as if her question was improper and she had somehow insulted him. Then he seemed to seize control of himself, stiffen the upper lip, think of England, and muster up the effort to stay calm. “I’m afraid we do not, nor do I know of any I can recommend.” “I’d just like to start with a solicitor who doesn’t call me a liar.” “I am not “calling you a liar”, madam” – he seemed to put the words in quotes as if afraid he was soiling his mouth, “I am accustomed to ascertaining the facts of the case.” “The facts of the case are, that my husband spent the night with another woman who masqueraded as Mrs. Wye at The Carpathian Hotel. I have the receipted bill. When I challenged him he admitted it, saying it would continue because of Modern Marriage and stated further that he’s a man of the world, or some such thing, and showed me some photographs a detective took of me meeting a platonic male friend in London.” D’Arcy perked up and looked interested in spite of himself. “Your husband was having you followed?” “Apparently. For all I know it’s still going on – I didn’t see anybody but because I’m not doing anything, I wasn’t really looking.” I’m never doing anything, she thought disgustedly. D’Arcy stroked his moustache. “About this friend –“ “Pomeroy Bronfen – the man we bought Wyvern House from – we rain into each other on the street by the sheerest coincidence. He invited me to dinner and a movie, and because he had a car, he ended up driving me around.” “I believe you, of course – I would hope that goes without saying – but I also it would be sensible on your part to keep some distance from – friendly men.” “Should I stay away from all men?” Scarlet asked and D’Arcy looked physically pained. “That will be difficult as I’m looking for a job.” “Don’t ride in cars with them, don’t have dinner alone with them, don’t sit in darkened theatres with them,” said D’Arcy huffily. “It is not that Idon’t trust you,” he emphasized the word - the question is what a judge might think.” “And what might he think?” D’Arcy sighed. “In England, ma’am, it is not possible to get a divorce for adultery if the spouse has been compliant or collusive.” She let those terms sink in. This was what she needed to know, this was why she was sitting in this dreadfully overheated room listening to this silly little man. She needed to find out what game Ian was playing. “You mean if we both have affairs?” “If neither one of you – such is English law – truly can be considered an injured party.” She stared at him. She wanted to tell him what she thought of English law – what a bunch of idiots they all were - but she knew that wouldn’t help. “I gather your husband doesn’t desire this divorce,” said D’Arcy. “You gather correctly. And it isn’t for any reason flattering to me, it’s because of this division that exists in my husband’s mind between “wives” and “girlfriends.” “I see. He doesn’t wish the categories to – collide, as it were.” Was there a human being buried inside this pompous little twerp after all? “Exactly. And I want no part of it.” “How refreshingly American,” said Pelham D’Arcy, shuffling papers. “American?” Was he insulting her again? She bridled. “It’s very American to want to be both wife and girlfriend,” said D’Arcy. “But I may say my wife shares your view.” Scarlet felt enormous relief. Perhaps this man would do after all. “Hopefully the world will come around to our opinion,” she said. “So, given all this, what do you recommend?” “I recommend we hire a detective of our own, get the goods on hubby so to speak – romantic and financial – and you file for divorce. A settlement contract will prove a more productive path than separate maintenance which allows him to play bloody hell with your allowance. And he seems to be a gamesman. I’ve got an excellent fellow – er, detective – er, Bogswell.” “Thank you,” sighed Scarlet. “What do I owe you?” D’Arcy raised a blocking hand. “Nothing until we get a better sense of your husband’s assets. I also suggest we establish a trust with you as the trustee, and you write a will.” “Why a will?” “It’s part of establishing the trust. This allows you to open a bank account in your own name which your husband won’t have access to – which I’m afraid you will find difficult otherwise.” “I’ve got even fewer assets than he’s got,” Scarlet sighed. “I beg to differ. I believe you said something about an infant child?” Scarlet brightened. “Yes, there’s always Nicholas.” An asset indeed. The session ended warmly on a handshake. “I suggest you obtain a separate address your husband doesn’t know about,” said D’Arcy. “Until you notify me I will await your call here or at my home – here’s the number to exchange news.” “Sounds smart,” said Scarlet. Yes, it did.
0 Comments
Leave a Reply. |
Alysse AallynArchives
November 2021
Categories |