by Teg
“You’re not being fair,” he objected.
“Fair? What has fairness to do with anything? Where were you when I was
crying at night, afraid to think, wanting my dad to rescue me from the wretched mistake I’d made? Did you encourage mom to call me, to prevent me from
being alone and stop George from dominating my every move?” Elizabeth felt a floodgate opening and she desperately held onto what little control remained.
“You make it sound as if we didn’t care.”
“We? We?” She practically shouted the word at him. “I’m not talking about you and mom and Mary! I know who kept them away. I know why they didn’t call.
Why didn’t you give me that comfort, at least? How could you take it all away from me like that?”
“It all sounds so simple when you put it that way.” He shook his head. “If only it had been. Some decisions are never easy, my dear Lizzy.”
Anger was written in every line of her body. In a flash her hand flew up to slap him but stopped just short of making contact with his cheek. “You let him hurt me.”
“I didn’t realise –.”
“You didn’t care,” Elizabeth accused.
“That’s not true.” The denial carried no weight. “I’m sorry, Lizzy. There was nothing I could do.”
She refused to look at him, preferring to turn her back and look anywhere else.
“So you’ve said. I can’t understand it.”
“It’s a long story.”
Her shoulders rose and fell with a forceful sigh. “Either tell me or go. I have no interest in hearing anything else you have to say if you won’t explain how you could allow George to do what he did to me.” Still she refused to turn around, listening to silence for some time before Ted’s quiet voice brought her attention into focus once more.
“When you were a little girl you saw me through innocent eyes. I was your
hero, putting a bandage on your scraped knee, protecting you from the
monsters that lived under your bed. But you grew up, the monsters went away and the bandages were no longer necessary. You needed a different kind of
hero, the kind I could never be.”
Sharply she asked, “Why not?”
The tone of his voice changed, became more assertive as if narrating a story.
“You’ve a strong will, Lizzy. You didn’t get that from me. No, it’s your
mother’s strength. She’s not intelligent, you know.” Immediately he grimaced and sought to clarify his words. “I don’t mean that in a cruel way. Lord, if she’d been smarter she never would have married me! She would have realised that I didn’t have the... I didn’t aspire to much. She could have had a lot more.”
Elizabeth had nothing to say. Her father’s candour was shocking. She had
never heard him speak of his wife in such a way.
“I saw by the time you were a teenager that my usefulness to you would be
short lived. Difficulties became more complex but you were able to solve them on your own. Don’t think that bothered me, though. Seeing you grow
independent made me proud, so proud! It had nothing to do with me, of course.
Your mother was the driving force behind you and your sisters. I just sat back and watched.”
“Yes, and did nothing at all,” she scornfully commented. “I had to be the one to intercede when Mom would have pressured Jane into marrying that idiot from high school.”
“It would never have gone that far,” he countered. “I don’t want to see any of you girls marry unwisely. You all deserve better.” He took a moment to think of how to say the rest. “I feared that Jane would suffer the most, that she would have ended up with a man –.”
Elizabeth swung around. “Who would beat her? Someone like George
Wickham? Yes, Jane is so sweet and good. That could easily have been her
fate.”
“Charles is an excellent young man. He is exactly what I’d like for all of you.”
“We don’t all want a man like Charles, Dad. He’s a fine one, sure, but.... maybe Mary would be happy with another guy like him. Cathy and I are different. It’s that strong will you were talking about earlier.” Sinking into a chair, she hugged the stuffed puppy close, looking more fragile every moment rather than
like the strong woman she used to be. “Maybe if we’d had a better example while growing up then I could have seen what was wrong with George at the
start,” she spat out.
“Certainly I accept the blame!” cried Ted. “I should have done more. I should have tried harder, but Lizzy, surely you must realise the truth! I’m a coward. I did nothing because that’s all I’m capable of doing. I honestly didn’t think George was what he was until Jane came to us, concerned about you. Of
course, she was closer both emotionally and physically so your mother and I had no chance to see what was really going on.” Ted’s chin dropped to his
chest and his voice became quiet, though not distant. It was heavy with
emotion, the words choking him. “I didn’t want to know what was happening.
You were able to handle him better than I ever could, Lizzy, but it brought me no comfort. The only recourse I saw was to shield your mother and sisters from the worst.”
Elizabeth inhaled sharply. Every emotion seemed to descend on her at once, not one identifiable. They were all fighting for an outlet, squeezing closed her throat and leaving her breathing in shallow little gasps. A tiny voice managed to pass her lips. “But I needed you, Daddy. It was me, not them.” Elizabeth’s eyes were tightly closed, her mind a jumble of memories and feelings and
fears. “Daddy, please help me. Take me home. I want to go home.” She had
slowly curled up in the chair, legs tucked up and arms hugging her knees to her chest.
Ted moved toward her, relieved to hear her words. ‘My dear Lizzy, of course you may come home! I want you to be safe from all harm and I won’t let
anything or anybody hurt you at home.” He reached out for her hand.
“Don’t touch me!” she cried, her eyes seeming to stare through him. “Please,”
she repeated in a whisper, “don’t touch me.”
Confused, he stepped back, an icy fear gripping him. For the first time he wondered how deep his daughter’s emotional scarring had gone. “Lizzy, I’m
not going to hurt you.” His words had an unexpected effect.
“That’s what you always say,” she whimpered, “but you do it all the same.”
Sobs began to break from her, softly at first and then gaining in intensity. “I hate you. I hate you!”
The door suddenly burst open and Ted looked up in shock as Will rushed to
Elizabeth’s side. She flew into his arms, crying uncontrollably. The younger man’s anger was plain to see although he spared only a scathing glance in Ted’s direction. Georgiana had followed quickly on her brother’s heels, ready to intervene at any second.
“Please, Will... please... oh, please,” Elizabeth kept saying. “Make him... leave.
Make him g-g-go away.”
“Make who go away, Lizzy?” Georgiana gently asked, her hand on Elizabeth’s cheek. “What do you want us to do?”
“G-George. Make him leave me alone!” Clinging to Will more fiercely than
ever, she would not, could not open her eyes. She was trapped in images from the past, real and imagined.
Georgiana looked at the broken man standing a few feet away, his body
slumped in sorrow and defeat. Then she turned her attention to her brother, noting that Will was watching Ted, no longer with anger but with uncertainty.
She took Elizabeth’s hand in her own, slowly detaching her from Will. “He’s gone now, Elizabeth. George is gone and he won’t be back.”
“He is?” Elizabeth blinked, clearly still confused and lost in the fog of
remembrance. Tentatively, she allowed her eyes to take in the room, starting
when she saw Ted. “Daddy? Finally,” she breathed in relief. “Finally you have come!” Then she looked at Will and, for a moment, seemed to be asking him a question with her gaze. Shaking her head, Elizabeth banished the last
disturbing fragments from her mind and took hold of Will’s hand. She felt him squeeze her fingers, solidly affirming the reality of his presence. “I’m okay,”
she said. “I’ll be okay now.”
Will’s frown deepened. He looked past Elizabeth to his sister, seeking her opinion. Georgiana barely moved her head to communicate her own uneasiness with the sudden assertion. When Elizabeth released Will’s hand and stepped toward her father the tension in the air seemed to come alive.
“I’m sorry, Dad. I can’t forgive you for.... anything. Not yet.” Elizabeth briefly closed her eyes, biting her lip. “Maybe some day.”
Ted bowed his head, accepting the inevitability of the situation. “I understand, Lizzy.” He took her hands, noting thankfully that she did not pull away. “I’ll look forward to that day when we can be friends, at least.” He glanced over at Will and tried not to imagine the worst. Daring to show his daughter one last time that he truly did care, Ted hugged her close and whispered, “I don’t really know this man you’ve chosen as your champion but Charles vouches for him. I trust his opinion and can only hope Will is the man you believe him to be, Lizzy. I really do.”
Chapter Twenty-Four
“How was Christmas with your family?”
Elizabeth considered her haggard appearance and set aside the impulse for
sarcasm. “The holiday itself turned out better than I expected. It was the last day that proved difficult.”
Dr. Wendell calmly enquired, “How so?”
“I would need to start at the beginning to explain that.” Uncomfortably aware that the doctor was patiently waiting for her to continue, Elizabeth’s hands twisted together on her lap. “I’ve been having nightmares.” She looked up to see how her confession was received.
“You’ve not mentioned that before.”
“No.” There was a long pause while she again wondered what the doctor would say. “I wasn’t ready to talk about them.”
Crossing her legs, Dr. Wendell nodded silently. “Do you feel you are ready now?”
“Yes,” whispered Elizabeth, then cleared her throat and said more forcefully,
“Yes.” She was still not able to meet the other woman’s gaze, however. It was easier to speak of such matters when she could remain detached and that was simply not possible despite Dr. Wendell’s soothing manners. “They are always about George,” she said, stating the obvious, “starting out with something from the past, something that really happened. He’s nice, I feel safe and happy, but then it all suddenly goes wrong. Things change and it’s not real anymore. I can’t get away no matter what I do and even when Will appears, which usually happens, there’s still no escape unless I wake up.”
“How does that make you feel?”
Elizabeth found the question, voiced so mildly, infuriating. “It’s a nightmare!
How do you think it makes me feel?”
“Some people find nightmares make them angry, others become frightened or
sad, perhaps frustrated.”
“Well, mine terrify me!” Leaving the comfort of her chair, Elizabeth sought the cold reassurance of a marble sculpture that she’d long admired and which sat on a pedestal near the office window. As her fingers ran over the cool stone’s surface she looked out upon the city below. “Sometimes even when I’m awake something will happen and I’m suddenly transported back to a time and place where I’m with George and he’s... I think that scares me more than anything else.”
Dr. Wendell’s brow creased in thought. “What brings you out of this state of fear, grounds you again?”
Her patient closed her eyes and stated firmly, “Will.”
“How does he do that?” There was no hint of skepticism in her tone. It was a simple question.
Elizabeth’s stance relaxed slightly. “He’s there when I need him. He listens, holds me and... he loves me.”
“Jane loves you, too. You’ve not told her about these dreams, though?”
“Jane’s different. She has too much on her mind. I won’t burden her with this and she certainly doesn’t need to know the details. I can’t tell her those.”
“But you can tell Will.”
“No,” she whispered, her head suddenly lowering in shame. “I can’t tell him, either, and he hasn’t pressed me for them. He did suggest I talk to you about it, though.”
“Is that why you chose to do so?”
Elizabeth shook her head. She wanted to say that her preference was to keep all those bits of information to herself, locked away until forgotten, but when she had awakened that morning the bleak sky was a reminder of what her life could be like if those memories continued to haunt her. “No. I want to be rid of George once and for all. If I have to be hurt all over again to do it then that’s the way it must be. And I want to do it now; not next week, not next month or next year.”
Dr. Wendell sat straighter in her chair, her air more businesslike. “How would you like to start?”
Charles waited until Elizabeth had gone to bed before broaching the subject on his mind. “She seems different, Jane. What do you think it is? The time she spent with Will or your parents’ visit?”
“She hasn’t said much about either but Elizabeth was even quieter after seeing Dr. Wendell today. It’s a different kind of quiet, though. I can’t quite put my finger on it.” Jane raised her brows at her husband. “What do you see?”
“Aside from how tired she looked there seemed to be less resignation. There’s more confidence in her voice when she speaks.” Charles shrugged his
shoulders. “I’m not sure if it has anything to do with staying at Will’s. I haven’t talked to him, yet. He was quite elusive at the office today.”
Jane was nodding her head. “Yes, confidence! That’s what has been lacking in her until now. Even with all the hard work she’s put in, all that determination to heal her body and the success with exactly that, she has never really seemed to have confidence.” With a note of sadness she told him that her mother had
called when they had reached home, informing her daughter that Ted had
visited Elizabeth at Will’s house the previous evening. “It didn’t go well at all.
Not that I expected my sister to accept his apologies so easily but apparently it triggered some kind of breakdown. Elizabeth was hysterical, delusional.”
“I wouldn’t believe every word your mother says. Neither Will nor Elizabeth have given any indication that such a thing happened.”
“Mom wasn’t there. She’s only repeating what Dad told her and he wouldn’t
exaggerate like that.” When Jane thought of how her sister had looked that morning, the red-rimmed eyes and general exhaustion, it wasn’t difficult to
believe her mother’s tale. “Besides, Will isn’t going to say anything if Elizabeth asked him not to.”
“Maybe that’s why he avoided me all day,” mused her husband. With a sudden move he got up to retrieve the phone. “I’ll call him now.” He was disappointed, however. There was no reply at Will’s home number and his cell phone went
unanswered as well. Charles concluded that his friend must have sunk himself into work while he had the chance. Georgiana had left that afternoon and with Elizabeth returned to the Bingleys there was nothing to draw Will home from his office. His questions would have to wait until the morrow.
Long after the water had grown cold Elizabeth lingered in the shower, letting the spray continue to run over her body. She wondered how long it would take before she ever felt clean again. Shivering, she turned off the tap and reached for a towel. The warm softness enveloped her and she was reluctant to let it go.
Once in her room, however, Elizabeth’s thoughts again turned to considering her future. Since returning to Jane’s she had bee
n forcibly struck with the realisation that she no longer had a home. There was no question that her sister and Charles welcomed her and the time at Will’s was equally inviting, but there still remained a feeling of dependence and that was something Elizabeth could not accept. Furthermore, she did not want to transfer reliance on Jane to
reliance on Will. It was time to start thinking about resuming a life of her own.
There would be objections from other interested parties, of course, not the least of which was her own conscience. The afternoon session with Dr. Wendell had opened up a new dimension in Elizabeth’s recovery. She was eager to move
forward and face the worst of the past.
At the same time it was frightening.
She’d had nightmares from the time she left the hospital but leaving the
familiarity of her bedroom at Jane’s, with all of her own furniture and personal trinkets, had seemed to make the dreams more intense when she stayed at
Will’s. She had no desire to repeat the painful experience that occurred with her father.
As for her job, it would be impossible to resume her former occupation. She’d lost the ability to trust and the kinds of people with whom she had previously come into contact needed and deserved an unbiased, non-judgmental social
worker. Strangely, this loss did not trouble her as much as she had expected.
The most surprising of all, though, was the childlike longing for her mother.
Dolores Bennet had by no means been a neglectful parent but neither was she the supportive one that Elizabeth could admire while growing up. More often than not she had turned to her father when in need of advice or support.
Dolores had supplied the comfort for an insecure toddler testing her self
identity but it was Ted with whom Elizabeth later bonded for he encouraged
her tomboyish behaviour when her mother would prefer to have her little girl in frilly dresses.
Crawling into bed, Elizabeth yawned and turned away from the window. There was too much to think about with no easy answers. If wishes could be