Marriage is Marriage
Two weeks later at the office, Newland was summoned by the head of the firm, Mr Letterblair, who said to him, "Mrs Manson Mingott sent for me yesterday. She says her granddaughter, Countess Olenska, wants to divorce her husband. Mrs Mingott gave me all the relevant papers and asked me to act for the family. She made it quite clear that the family don't want a divorce. It'd be a terrible scandal. I want you to go to the Countess and persuade her not to ask for a divorce."
"Can't someone else do it?" asked Newland. "The fact that I'm engaged to her cousin makes it rather difficult for me."
"It is precisely because you're engaged to her cousin that we're asking you to do it. Mrs Mingott asked for you. It is a very private matter and nobody else in the firm knows about it. Please take these papers and read them."
"Perhaps divorce is the best thing in this case. I can't promise to persuade the Countess not to divorce her husband unless I'm convinced that it's the right thing to do."
"I don't understand you, Archer," said Mr Letterblair. "You're going to marry into her family. Do you want that family to be the subject of scandal?"
"No, of course not, but what I want is irrelevant."
"The Countess is here; the Count is in Europe: the Atlantic is between them. The Count has already given her some of her money back. He won't give any more. Why should he? The marriage agreement doesn't require him to do so, even in the case of divorce. Besides, they say she doesn't care about the money. If that is the case, she should just let things remain as they are."
Reluctantly, Newland took the papers to his office and read them. The last was a letter from the Count in which he threatened to create a scandal over the Countess's relationship with his secretary if she insisted upon a divorce. It was a very nasty letter. Newland felt a sudden compassion for the Countess. The older ladies in New York society were very severe in their judgment of any woman who had a relationship outside marriage. They spoke of "that kind of woman" and showed no pity to her. They always pitied the man: they considered him a foolish creature who couldn't resist "that kind of woman"; the man was always the poor victim who had to be saved. Newland had never really questioned these beliefs, but now he suspected that in Europe things were less simple. There, he thought, it was possible for a good woman - an honest, sensitive woman - to fall into a relationship like that just because she was lonely and desperate.
The next day he went to see the Countess. As he entered the drawing room, Newland was unpleasantly surprised to see Julius Beaufort standing by the fire.
"Why are you going to the van der Luydens' again?" Beaufort was asking the Countess as Newland came in. The Countess turned to Newland and offered him her hand. Beaufort nodded at him and continued talking to the Countess. "You'll be bored to death there. Come to dinner with me instead. I've planned a dinner for you at Delmonico's. I want to invite all the artists to meet you."
"Ah!" said the Countess. "That does tempt me! I haven't met any artists since I've been here."
"I know some painters," said Newland. "I'll introduce them to you if you like."
"Painters? Are there any painters in New York?" asked Beaufort with an ironic smile.
"Thank you," said the Countess to Newland, "but I meant dramatic artists: singers, actors, and musicians. My husband's house was always full of them." Then she turned to Beaufort, offered him her hand and said, "Goodnight. I have to discuss business with Mr Archer."
Beaufort kissed her hand, but he didn't look pleased. As he was leaving, he said, "Archer, if you can persuade the Countess to come to Delmonico's on Sunday, you can come too."
"So you care about art, Mr Archer?" asked the Countess, when they were alone.
"Oh yes. I always go to the exhibitions when I'm in London and Paris."
"I used to care about art too, but now I want a new life. I want to leave my old life behind and become an American just like everyone else."
"You'll never be like everyone else," said Newland.
"Don't say that. I hate to be different. I want a new start."
"I know. Mr Letterblair told me. In fact, he asked me to come to see you. That's why I'm here."
"Ah!" said the Countess with a smile. "You mean I can talk to you? You'll help me?"
"Yes."
"Have you read the papers? Do you know about my life with my husband?"
"Yes," said Newland, blushing.
"Then you agree with me that I should get a divorce?"
"Well, I'm not sure. Your family don't want a divorce, and they've sent me, or rather my partner, Mr Letterblair, has sent me to explain to you their point of view."
"Have you read my husband's letter?"
"Yes."
"And isn't it horrible?"
Newland looked down. "Yes."
"I'm a Protestant," said the Countess. "Our Church doesn't forbid divorce in such cases."
"But," said Newland,"in his letter the Count threatens to cause a scandal if you insist upon divorce."
"What harm could that do me here?" asked the Countess.
"I'm afraid it could do you more harm here than anywhere. You see, New York society is a very small world, ruled by people with rather conventional ideas."
"Yes," she replied, and her lips trembled a little as she spoke. "That's what my family tell me. And do you agree with them?"
He stood up and walked to the fireplace. Staring into the fire, he said, "It's my business to explain how your family see these things. The Mingotts, the Wellands, the van der Luydens - all your friends and relations."
"Tell me what you think - sincerely," she said.
"Well, what would you gain from a divorce?" he said, looking into the fire.
"My freedom! Is that nothing?"
He thought perhaps she wanted a divorce so that she could marry the secretary, and this thought made him angry.
"But you're free now, aren't you?" he replied impatiently. "Is it worthwhile to make a scandal that will upset all your family and friends?"
"No," she said, and her voice sounded sad.
She stood up quickly, as if to indicate that their talk was over. "All right," she said. "I'll do as you say. I won't ask for a divorce."
Newland blushed and took both her hands in his. "I do want to help you," he said.
"I know. You do help me. Goodnight," she replied. He bent his head, kissed her hands, and left her.
***
"The Count has written to her," said Mrs Mingott. "He has asked her to go back. He has offered to give her back a lot of the money he received when they were married. Lovell and Augusta think she should go back, and I agree with them."
Newland was sitting with her in her drawing room drinking tea. "I'd rather see her dead," he said.
"Would you?" the old lady replied. "But here, you see, my granddaughter is at risk. A woman alone is always at risk. In Europe she has everything she could desire: jewels, fur coats, splendid houses, the company of artists and intellectuals. Marriage is still marriage, Mr Archer, and my granddaughter is still a wife."
by Edith Wharton