It is a tale I have often recalled over a cup of tea, as though it were a weatherworn page from a diary long since closed.
Edward, with a rueful grin, tapped his fingers on the wooden table and said, Im ashamed to ask, but I left my wallet at home every cards in there. Could you perhaps cover the bill? Its a great inconvenience for me.
Eleanor, after a brief intake of surprise, reached for her handbag. Six hundred pounds for a dinner for two was not a trivial sum, yet it was far from ruinous. She had earned enough for years to be untroubled by such amounts.
Of course, no problem, she replied.
The waiter set a cardmachine on the table, and Eleanor slipped her card through. The screen flashed green, confirming the payment. Edward bowed his head in gratitude and helped her to her seat, keeping a steady hand on her elbow.
Outside a sharp wind cut through the evening, rattling the lamplight. Eleanor pulled her scarf tighter, and Edward walked beside her in silence, his thoughts hidden behind a stoic mask. He paused beneath a street lantern and turned to her.
You know, I ought to tell you something, he began, his voice taking on an odd timbre. The wallet was actually with me the whole time, as were the cards.
Eleanor stopped in her tracks, a cold shiver winding up her spine like a serpent.
What do you mean? she asked.
It was a test, Edward said, producing a sleek black leather wallet from his jacket pocket and turning it over in his hands. I wanted to be sure you were with me for anything but money. Do you understand? Now I know you are neither mercenary nor dependent.
Eleanor exhaled slowly, a tight knot forming in her chest. A laugh caught somewhere between throat and chest, but she forced herself to relax her face and offer a faint smile.
Im glad I passed your test, she said as gently as she could.
Edward laughed with relief, slinging an arm around her shoulders. Eleanor pressed herself against him, shielding her face lest he see the tension hardening her cheekbones. Inside, everything turned upside down humbling, petty. She was a grown woman, yet he treated her as if she were a schoolgirl under scrutiny.
The weeks that followed slipped by in their ordinary rhythm, until Edward finally asked for her hand. Everything was arranged with a flourish of romance, and Eleanor said yes.
Preparations began almost at once. Eleanor purchased a creamcoloured dress with lace sleeves from a boutique in Mayfair. They booked a restaurant for forty guests and mailed out the invitations.
Edwards mother, Margaret Whitaker, visited every weekend, lavishing praise upon her son as though she were hawking the finest wares at a fair.
Edward is such a responsible lad, she chirped, pouring tea into delicate, almost translucent cups. He always helps, never forgets his mother. Eleanor, be glad hes chosen you.
Eleanor nodded and smiled, though Margarets words floated past her, never taking root. She learned to tune her ears out when the future motherinlaw launched into her monologues.
Two weeks before the wedding Edward suggested Eleanor move in with him a newly built flat on the fifteenth floor overlooking the Thames, with panoramic windows. Eleanor agreed, though a quiet part of her resisted the idea. She began packing, boxes piling up and filling her modest onebedroom flat.
On moving day she lugged the first box, stuffed with decorative cushions and picture frames, to the lift where Edward met her at the entrance and helped haul the load. The flat smelled of fresh paint and new furniture. Eleanor set the box down in the hallway, straightened her back, and rubbed her weary lower spine.
Edward took her hand, beckoning her forward.
Come, lets step onto the balcony. Ill show you the view.
They emerged onto a narrow ledge. The wind teased Eleanors hair, and she squinted against the bright sun. The river below glittered, mirroring the sky, while the city stretched to the horizon.
Edward suddenly asked, Hand me your phone; Id like a picture of you with this backdrop.
Eleanor fished a black smartphone from her jeans pocket and handed it over. Edward glanced at the screen, then, with a swift, unexpected motion, flung the phone over the rail.
Eleanor froze, time seeming to halt. She stared down as the tiny device vanished into the shrubbery by the stairwell, a chill of calm spreading through her.
What shall we do, my dear? Edward said with a grin, crossing his arms.
Eleanor shifted her gaze from the ground to him, feeling no panic, only a detached composure.
You must go down and fetch me a SIM, she replied evenly, almost indifferently.
Edward burst into laughter, pulling the phone from his pocket and waving it before her nose like a conjurer revealing a rabbit from a hat.
Surprise, he said, savoring the moment. I see youre not upset. Here, take it back. I merely wanted to gauge your reaction, and my old phone took a little flight.
Eleanor took her phone, noting a scratch on the protective glass, and ran a finger across the screen. Irritation swelled inside her, dark and heavy, filling the space. She lifted her eyes to Edward.
I am not a household appliance for your experiments, she whispered.
Edwards laughter died. His face stretched, eyebrows rising.
Come now, it was only a joke. Dont be angry. I love you.
She slipped the gold ring with a modest diamond from her finger and placed it in his palm.
What are you doing? Edward recoiled, as if shed handed him a serpent.
Im returning it, Eleanor said, laying the ring on his hand. Such tests bruise my selfrespect. I will not marry a childish, petty man.
Eleanor, are you serious? Over a mere prank? he protested, his voice tinged with plaintive notes.
She turned and walked back into the flat. The boxes stood untouched in the hallway. She felt a strange relief that nothing had been unpacked yet. Grabbing her car keys, a bag, and the solitary box, she headed for the door.
Eleanor! Wait! Edward chased after her down the corridor. Lets talk!
Theres nothing to discuss, she called over her shoulder. But I can explain in your own language. Edward, you failed the test.
She loaded the box into her car, slipped into the drivers seat, and turned the engine over. Edward remained at the entrance, watching her disappear with a lost expression. Eleanor drove home.
The house welcomed her with the familiar scents of coffee, old books, and lavender spray. She slipped off her shoes, padded to the kitchen, and set the kettle on. Her phone buzzed. It was Edward. She ignored the call. A minute later a message arrived: Im sorry, I hurt you. Lets meet and talk.
She deleted it without reply. More messages followed, then another, and another. She blocked the number and silenced the tone.
In the days that followed Edward called from unknown numbers, left notes on social media, begged mutual friends to tell her he was remorseful. Eleanor ignored everything. She cared little for the money spent on the wedding, the booked restaurant, the invitations mailed out. What mattered was that she would not abase herself for anyones sense of superiority.
The cream dress hung in the wardrobe, wrapped in a protective cover. Eleanor retrieved it, smoothed the lace sleeves. Her niece, Kitty, had recently asked for help choosing a gown for her graduation. This dress would serve her better than a bride who would never have walked down an aisle.
Eleanor settled on the sofa, hugging her knees, and watched the sky darken as the last rays of sunset faded. The city below buzzed, indifferent to personal dramas. Somewhere, Edward likely sat in his new flat, baffled by why she had cut him off so abruptly, unable to grasp that such tests demeaned. Love and trust, he seemed to think, were not subjects of experiments.
The phone buzzed again from an unfamiliar number. Eleanor did not answer. She turned on some music, pulled a blanket over herself, and closed her eyes. Inside, a quiet settledempty, yet peaceful, as if a heavy pack had finally been set down after a long journey.
Two days later Kitty burst into the flat, shrieking with delight at the sight of the dress.
Is this really for me, Aunt Eleanor? she pressed the lace to her chest, twirling before the mirror.
Yes, dear, Eleanor smiled, watching the sparkle in her nieces eyes.
Will you need it any more? Kitty asked.
No, Eleanor replied. I have other plans.
Kitty threw her arms around her, the scent of floral shampoo and youthful exuberance filling the air. Eleanor returned the hug, running a hand along her nieces back. It was a comfort that the dress would not be wasted, that she had halted the marriage in time, that no lingering regret clung to her heartonly a gentle melancholy for the hours lost and hopes spent.
And so the chapter closed. She was free, and that freedom outweighed any trial the world could devise.
