Chapter 7
Public recognition did not fix our marriage.
Of course not.
The first week, everyone suddenly called Dulcie “Mrs. Aldercrest.”
She hated it.
Not the name.
The tone.
People who had barely looked at her now rushed to pull chairs.
Compliment dresses.
Ask opinions.
Same hierarchy.
Different direction.
She said:
“I was invisible because they thought I was a maid. Now I’m important because I’m your wife.”
I knew what she meant.
“Neither is about me.”
Exactly.
She moved out of our bedroom.
Not out of the house.
One room down.
My pride hated it.
Good.
Pride needed work.
She told me:
“I love you.”
Then:
“I don’t know whether I trust what loving you requires.”
That sentence stayed.
I did not promise change.
Promises were part of how we got here.
I changed things.
No wife status tied to household authority.
Dulcie could choose how public she wanted to be.
No family hostess obligation.
No mandatory dinners.
No clothing expectations.
No staff hierarchy transferred through marriage.
She wanted one thing immediately.
Her old coworkers stop calling her ma’am.
They struggled.
May you like
Rafe enjoyed watching.
So did I.
