The Sadness of Her Might
"Was there something else?"
"No… No that was it."
Julia had turned sadly back to the mirror while William returned to his book. No further words were uttered aside from 'goodnight's when they turned out the lights and retreated to their respective sides of the bed.
William had dropped off to sleep rather quickly. Now, his deep breathing and still form suggest no troubles cross his mind. Julia, on the other hand is very much awake, her mind unable to rest.
Their whole evening had progressed in a similar vein of silence broken by stilted conversation. Julia had been preoccupied the day's events. In their usual manner of poor communication, they have yet to discuss their argument from two days ago, and Julia suspects this to be the cause of her husband's reserve. In truth, she is a little embarrassed at how quickly she had succumbed to anger. Yet William, too, must see that he is not an innocent party! She huffs and resists the urge to pummel her pillow; how quickly the anger returned.
The day's events provide her with sufficient matter with which to distract herself, and she turns to the matter of Miss Hart. She had been reluctant to agree to William's suspicions, given that Julia had worked with and trained the woman. However, now that Miss Hart had effectively offered to cover up the true circumstances precipitating a death, Julia was forced to revaluate her opinions of the coroner. Unfortunately, William seemed disappointed that Julia did not have enough evidence to lodge a complaint. 'This is another issue to come between us,' she thinks with a sigh.
Finally, her thoughts turn to Doctor Dixon. She mentally re-examines the scene in the doctors' office, and then her lie or at least avoidance of the truth with William. Why did she shy from telling her husband what Doctor Dixon had attempted? With yet another sigh that is almost a groan, she realises that she is to find no rest until she has resolved her troubles. Slipping her legs from the bed, she stands and grabs her light cotton dressing gown from the rocking chair before exiting the bedroom.
Pacing the house does little to settle her thoughts. The open plan nature of the house gives her cause to worry that her steps will awaken her husband, so she circuits the living and dining areas, on the opposite side of their home to her slumbering husband. She absently notes the patches of moonlight through which she treads, her bare feet lightly slapping the floor as she mulls over her thoughts. Uneasiness is definitely present, she notes. Upset, certainly. Yet, not just at Doctor Dixon. She finds she is disconcerted with William.
She is still irked by her husband's reaction the other day. She was incredibly frustrated over her patient refusing to be treated by her and had thought she had an ally in her husband. His protest that he was trying to 'find a solution' rang untrue, when his response was to take the side of the patient. Although she had reacted in anger, it stemmed from hurt at his lack of support. Given the prejudice against himself due to his faith, she thought that he would at least be sympathetic. Yet it seems that he thinks it quite fine for a patient to refuse her care because of her gender. In short, he acted as if she was overreacting.
She fiddles with the cord on her gown as she works through her feelings. Yes, sadness with her husband is a prominent emotion. At present, she also feels a lack of trust in his reaction, fearing that he will fail to take her seriously in other matters. Of course, in her upset she fails to recall the previous occasions when William had supported her. The most recent events are too fresh and too hurtful to consider any other moments.
William had been present only a couple of weeks earlier when she'd expounded upon her difficulties during and after medical school. She divulged that she had been accused of exaggerating. Her husband clearly believes her to be blowing things out of proportion regarding the patient. So, what is to stop him from thinking the same about her encounter with Doctor Dixon?
If she tells William about Doctor Dixon, she fears that he would accuse her of overreacting, or that he would outright disbelieve her account. Only once had she told a professor at college about the unwanted advances of one of the male students. Never again did she utter a word after the professor accused her of encouraging the young man. She thereafter had to fend for herself.
She is so very tired of fighting alone.
Tearfully, Julia sinks down on a chair before the unlit fire. Not only is she hiding from her husband for fear of his reaction, she also has to face Doctor Dixon at work every day and hope he doesn't come unwelcomely close again, or else damage her career and reputation out of spite.
Julia Ogden has persisted before, and she will do so again. Tomorrow, she'll stand tall and face her husband and colleague with composure and grit. But for now, alone in the middle of the night, she gives into her fears and sadness and loneliness, and she truly cries.
A/N: thank you for reading! Just a few things I want to say.
I started watching Murdoch Mysteries last year, and immediately fell in love. Up until recently, I hadn't written fiction for years, but there's something about MM that inspired me.
This story is what came to mind when I watched 13:02 and considered Julia's feelings. Things seem to have changed since then, but I wanted to write this as I originally imagined, and perhaps as an alternative direction for some of Season 13.
This is obviously a very Julia-centric piece of writing. William would likely consider events in a very different light, if I was to write a companion piece (which I probably won't).
Finally, I'm terrible at coming up with story titles. This title is from Keats' 'Ode on Melancholy'.
Thank you again for reading!