by Amanda Deed
‘You look like you’re off to a ball, not to a man’s sick bed,’ Rachel giggled.
Julianne offered a knowing smile. ‘But you’ve never been in love, so you wouldn’t understand.’ She cuffed Rachel gently on the cheek. Turning to Serena, she leaned in and kissed her. ‘Mr King will adore you.’
Serena squeezed her hand before pulling the soft velvet pelisse tight around her shoulders. Her heart was in her throat as nerves danced a jig in her stomach. She stopped in the parlour on her way to the door where Papa sat reading the newspaper. He gasped softly when he saw her.
‘How lovely you look, my sweet.’ He rose with a grimace of pain.
‘Don’t get up, Papa. I can see myself out.’
Acquiescent, he lowered himself back down. ‘Come here and kiss me then.’
Serena smiled and leaned to brush her lips on his cheek. ‘I’m hoping to return properly betrothed, Papa.’
He looked at her, head to one side.
‘Edward—Mr King—would probably like to ask your permission first, but he is not up to the task. May I ask on his behalf for your blessing?’
Papa’s shoulders shook in silent laughter. ‘Of course. Tell him that I give my whole-hearted approval of this match.’
‘Thank you, Papa.’ She kissed his cheek a second time.
Half an hour later, she knocked tentatively on Mr Moncrief’s door, the jig in her stomach having become a whirlwind. Serena didn’t have to wait long before Mrs Moncrief answered the door with little Edmond on her hip, and gave her entry, bidding her wait in the parlour.
Mr Moncrief soon joined her with a welcoming smile on his face.
‘How is Mr King?’ Serena asked as soon as the pleasantries were exchanged.
‘As I suspected, he slept most of the time, and was not enormously sensible in the moments he was awake. He often weeps. He kept repeating the words, “he heard me,” and I’m sure I don’t know what that’s about. But, he seems much calmer this morning and has, in fact, been asking for you.’
‘He has?’ Serena’s heart fluttered so powerfully she felt light-headed for a moment.
‘Yes. We have had quite the catch up this morning.’ Mr Moncrief could not hide his contentment.
‘Does he understand what has happened?’
Mr Moncrief nodded. ‘For the most part, I think so.’
‘May I see him now?’ Serena needed to get this over with so she could breathe normally again.
‘Of course. I shall send him to you.’
‘Oh.’ Serena had expected to sit by the invalid’s bed. Edward had been so weak when they had taken him from the asylum.
Her heart was still thumping in her throat and neck minutes later when footsteps sounded outside the room and Edward stepped in. Serena stood to her feet, wanting to run and throw her arms around him. Instead she pressed her hands hard against her stomach, fighting the urge to cry or giggle or faint. She drew in a shaky breath as far as possible and let it out slowly.
‘Serena.’ He stretched his hands out toward her. ‘How beautiful you look. Broughton is an exceptional dressmaker, is he not?’
She stepped forward and put her hands in his, blinking traitorous tears away. Edward looked so much better. His eyes were still ringed with shadow, but there was a faint light in them now. What to say? Where to start?
‘Did I imagine it, or did an angel meet me in that purgatory and agree to marry me?’ The hope in his eyes was unmistakable.
A wobbly laugh burst from her. ‘I would never claim to be an angel, but you did not imagine the rest.’
‘Oh, but you are.’ The gravity in his voice was unwavering. ‘My angel. I love you so, Serena.’
‘And I love you, my darling Edward.’
He put a stop to anything else she might say by pulling her into his arms and pressing his warm lips firmly on her mouth. Was it possible that his kiss could turn her upside down so? And yet she was spinning, falling, into a dream of bliss. A dream from which she never wanted to wake.
Eventually, he drew back, and gazed into her eyes. ‘Sit with me.’ Edward drew her to a small sofa where they sat together, still holding hands, the warmth from his clasp reaching her heart. ‘I need to ask you again, if you are certain you want to marry someone who is cursed as I am.’
A bubble of frustration rose within Serena. Why could he not let this go? ‘It is not a curse, Edward. You have an illness, and yes, I will marry you with that illness. I suspect your sister has encouraged you to believe the curse was real. But it’s not. Mr Moncrief and your own diary can attest to that. Did you never read back over your journal?’
Edward’s brows lowered. ‘Do you mean to say you’ve read my journal?’
Serena opened and closed her mouth, sudden guilt assaulting her. He must feel violated. She squeezed Edward’s hand, apologetic. ‘Only because I wanted to understand. And if I hadn’t, we would never have uncovered your sister’s duplicity.’
He let go of her hand and stood, pacing away from her, at war with his own feelings. ‘I never read back over it. It was private. My deepest thoughts. Things I could not express to others for fear they would condemn me as a lunatic.’ Edward ran a hand through his hair. ‘Although that ended up happening, anyway.’
Serena moved to him and placed her hands on his cool cheeks. ‘You need not fear that from me. I have read it all and I still promise to join my life with yours.’
Edward turned and looked at her, studying her face. ‘You really love me, despite the curse.’
‘Yes, but—’
‘But there is no curse.’ Mr Moncrief stood in the doorway, hands thrust in his pockets. When they both started, he explained. ‘I’m sorry. I was coming to see if you would like tea, but overheard this tripe about a curse, Ed.’
‘It’s not tripe.’
‘It is indeed.’ Mr Moncrief entered the room and sat. ‘You and I spoke the day after you met with the monk, don’t you remember?’
Edward shook his head, but looked in doubt.
‘You spent hours having theological and philosophical debates with him. In the end, he told you that you were too closed-minded and lost in your own pride. I suspect he got fed up with your high-minded, I’m-smarter-than-everybody-else attitude and gave you the cold, hard truth.’
‘And what truth is that?’ Edward pressed his lips into a grim line.
‘That pride goeth before destruction, and a haughty spirit before a fall. It’s a verse from Proverbs, and not a curse. The monk told you that you needed to stop fighting the truth and acknowledge God as the giver of your gifts.’
Edward remained silent.
‘The earliest entries in your journal that mention this say the same thing. No mention of a curse,’ Serena added.
Edward looked like he wanted to argue, but defeat—or perhaps resignation—dulled his fight. He released a long sigh. ‘It’s a funny thing. Since I’ve met you, Serena, I have been thinking about God more. You have such confidence in what you believe, and you live according to it. It made me question everything I had assumed. I know I argued with you like a pompous fool.’ He drew in a deep breath and swallowed hard. ‘Just before ... just before I tried to ... end it, I challenged God to save me if he could. I was done fighting. When Simon and Xavier stopped me at the tree, I thought little of it. But when you two came to Bedlam Point, I knew it. He heard me.’ Edward looked at them both, with tears brimming in his eyes. ‘He heard me.’
Serena and Mr Moncrief exchanged a knowing glance.
‘So, no more talk of a curse then, old man. Are we agreed?’
‘There is no curse?’
‘None at all,’ Serena assured him with a gentle touch to his forearm.
Edward sank onto the nearest chair. ‘I’m free?’
‘In more ways than one.’ Mr Moncrief winked.
‘It seems so simple. Too
simple.’ Edward shook his head.
‘We all make life more complicated than it needs to be sometimes. I am guilty of the same.’
‘Me, too,’ agreed Serena, sitting beside Edward. ‘I had myself in a turmoil thinking my family couldn’t survive without me. It was all vanity—thinking more of myself than I ought.’
Edward turned to her and clasped her hands. ‘And I took you from them in my selfishness. Will they ever forgive me?’
‘It is already done,’ Serena giggled. ‘Papa has even given his consent to our marriage.’
‘Speaking of which,’ Mr Moncrief slapped his thighs and stood. ‘I’m sure you two have some planning to do. Shall I fetch some tea?’
‘Tea would be wonderful.’
With a nod, the young man departed and Serena had Edward to herself again.
Serena bit on her lip as she looked into his eyes. ‘I never dreamt I would have the happiness of planning my wedding. But, here we are.’
‘Yes, we are. However, I must speak to you about something.’ Edward drew her to her feet and clasped her hands.
‘What is it?’ Serena searched his eyes.
‘That last day on the beach,’ he ducked his head momentarily, scuffing at an imaginary lump on the floor. ‘I am not that man. I am not a fiend. Can you ever forgive me?’ He raised his face again, and held her gaze with his plea written in its depths.
Serena reached up and stroked a strand of his hair away from his brow, as all the love she possessed pooled in her eyes.
‘I know you are not a fiend. You are the man I love. A man who is exuberant and loyal and generous and very gifted.’
‘And you are the sweetest, most unselfish, loving woman I could be blessed to have as my wife. With just the right amount of impertinence.’ He gave her a sly wink.
Serena almost snorted. ‘Beast.’
‘Perhaps. But only a little,’ he murmured as he lowered his lips to hers in a kiss that promised many more to come.
33
Sunday 25th September, 1842
Yesterday, my bride stood beside me at the altar and we exchanged our vows. She indeed looked like the angel I often call her.
Through her, I found my healing. I stood, for the first time in many years, as a whole man, fully present in my mind. All along, Providence had his hand upon me, as I have discovered just as the Psalmist did.
‘So foolish was I, and ignorant: I was as a beast before thee. Nevertheless I am continually with thee: thou hast holden me by my right hand.’
Serena and I married in the church, then celebrated in a gazebo with whitewashed columns and arches, which I built for her on the shore.
Our families surrounded us, offering their love and congratulations. Judith was subdued, but she has turned a corner and has now accepted that Serena and I are pledged to one another. She is slowly coming to accept I am not the source of her ruin, nor am I the source of her security. And I in turn have slowly learnt to forgive her. Serena and Caleb have shown me that holding bitterness against her will achieve nothing.
Caleb stood beside me yesterday, grinning like a school lad. I am eternally grateful for his friendship to me these years, even when I was no friend to him. It was a day I shall hold dearly for the rest of my life.
This morning, my wife and I will to go to church and then we shall leave for our wedding tour. We shall be gone a long while. To the Holy Land where Serena can see the places of the Bible and I shall see the incredible architecture of a millenia ago.
Enough, she is awaking, her golden smile drawing me away from these pages, and I would not resist her for the world. She is, and will ever be, my angel.
AUTHOR’S NOTE
Thank you for reading Unhinged, and I do hope you have enjoyed Edward and Serena’s journey. Mental Health is such a widespread struggle in our society today, but it still holds a stigma of shame, even with the better understanding and treatments available in our day and age.
For the purposes of a Beauty and the Beast story, I have ‘magically’ allowed Edward to become whole. Sadly, for many people who struggle with mental health issues, the battle is an ongoing, lifelong one.
I do not wish to trivialise mental illness, even though I do believe that God can heal. The best approach seems to be to seek medical help, counselling and combine that with a spiritual journey of faith.
If you, or someone around you suffers with mental health problems, such as depression or anxiety, the best first step is to seek help. This can be from your GP or a mental health support agency such as Beyond Blue- www.beyondblue.org.au.