A/N: posting a wee bit early as I need to go move a college student out of dorm due to virus. Stay Well Everyone. No, doesn't mean an extra chapter this week.
William looked at Lizabeth as she turned away from him; he could tell she was annoyed and angry. He felt the same. He had come for those files, to be sure, but he had come carefully dressed. He knew he was good-looking, and emphasized it by wearing an expensive, tailored shirt and suit, and had taken the time to reflect on the image in the mirror. William had intended to do a little flirting that morning.
Lizabeth had dumped the boyfriend from the hints that Caro had shared before she returned to Los Angeles. Surely Lizabeth must be on the rebound and could use some consoling, and he was just the man for the job. He had gotten up early, checked his calendar, and rearranged a few items intending to stay another day, and possibly another night. Lizabeth was beautiful, and he thought that he would be good as a shoulder to lean on after witnessing that idiot Ed's actions.
But when he had arrived, not precisely at eight (though he said he would be early), he had been surprised to find the doors locked. Within minutes other people came up to try the doors as well. They all consulted each other, talking rapidly. He didn't bother to listen to the topic; he only wondered if maybe she was more upset about breaking up with her boyfriend, what with that bungled public marriage proposal, and hadn't come into work. Had he misread her? Perhaps she had cared for the bastard? William shuddered at the idea of anyone genuinely caring for such a selfish and conceited man.
When it hit 8:20 a.m. and Lizabeth finally opened the doors to let everyone in; he was impatient and angry. His morning hadn't played out as envisioned. He was surprised to find her with a streak of dirt on her face and some sort of powder dusting her hair. Her clothes were disheveled. William didn't know what she'd been up to. There was an exchange about a cat and a wall, but he didn't understand what had happened or her role in the undertaking.
Lizabeth Bennet was neither so upset that she couldn't come to work nor was she on the rebound and wishing for company and a one-night stand with him because he had chosen to stay in town an extra day. Instead, she had been crawling around in an attic to rescue a cat, not waiting for William to console her!
He ended up frustrated and took it out on her. Once the terminal was online, he had to call her back over to help recreate his search from Thursday. While he was still at the computer, the Judge walked in. Metcalfe took the circus of people in the recording office in stride and started talking to one of the city council members. But when a reporter for the Merton Daily showed up, William decided it was time to leave. He couldn't quite determine why he was so annoyed about this turn of events. Perhaps his pride had been wounded. He had come thinking he could catch her on the rebound, and instead found her the center of attention with half the town in attendance.
He didn't even get a chance to say goodbye.
He brooded as he drove off, attempting to decide what to do next. He had put off going back to LA. Since he had the files, he decided that he would, at least, follow through and call on his Aunt Catherine.
The Fitzwilliam family had lived in California for one hundred and fifty years. William's great, great grandparents had settled near Merton before it was a town, having purchased a massive piece of land. They had held onto it for over one hundred years. But William's grandfather had gotten greedy as well as bowing to pressure from his children who didn't like the idea of keeping the land in the family for the next generation. They asked that it be divided amongst the three of them: William's mother, his Aunt Catherine, and his Uncle Clifford.
A vast section was first sold to the town to fuel Grandfather Fitzwilliam's coffers before the remaining land was then split between the three heirs. The western part went to Catherine, the area south of town went to Cliff, and the area east of town went to William's mother, Anita. His mother and his uncle sold theirs during the rising real estate boom at the end of the last century. Neither of them invested the money they received wisely.
Catherine still had her land primarily because she had married someone who had a head on his shoulders. William had loved and respected his Uncle Lewis, a man who had served as a Judge in the county. But Lewis Deburg developed dementia in his later life. When he was no longer capable of giving advice, Catherine proved no longer capable of acting rationally. Her property was frittered away as she didn't have a head for business, just like her siblings. Her only way of paying her bills was to sell property every five years or so to replenish her bank account. She was slowly running out of money, which meant that her only child, Anne, would have no inheritance whenever Catherine died.
Anne Deburg hadn't done anything with her life. She had chronic health problems that held her back, and she never worked besides showing an interest in the local town (an interest she shared with her mother). That didn't pay the bills. Anne tried investing money, but she only seemed to put her money into local business ventures. William had to admire her for the sentiment, though stocks would have paid better. But Anne's investments weren't the smartest, and she often lost more than she made.
Uncle Cliff had had two sons. Ryan wasn't the favorite. Jonathan, the oldest, turned out to be a wastrel; the sort who could do no wrong in his father's eyes despite Ryan showing he had a head on his shoulders. The brothers were contrasts; one a playboy, the other a hard worker. Clifford favored his oldest son, blaming everybody but his son for Jonathan's irresponsible behavior. When Jon died of a drug overdose, Cliff considered it a homicide and spent a lot of time (and a great deal of money) attempting to pin Jon's death on someone. He refused to accept that it was an accident or to find fault in his son or his son's behavior.
Uncle Clifford died of a broken heart as much as it was said that he died of a massive heart attack because he never got over his son's death. It was tragic that Ryan never got the accolades from his father for everything he did in the army (before he was wounded in combat and lost the use of his legs).
William knew that he would need to support himself, though he took what money was left to him by his parents to start his production company. The money had helped and allowed him to start a rung up from other people in the business (and it was a competitive business). But he was also a storyteller, even if he was a visual storyteller and not a writer, and he had always wanted to tell Ryan's story. He felt fiercely loyal to both of his cousins; Anne and Ryan were his only family.
William wasn't expected at his Aunt Catherine's house, but he was always a welcome guest. When he explained that he had remained in town because of her property issue, it was deemed a valid excuse, and wasn't questioned.
"We must go out to dinner," his aunt declared. "I've barely had time to speak to you. What with Troy and Mimi's nonsense taking center stage."
"A baby is not nonsense," Anne remarked. William thought his cousin was looking well, given her health. Anne had been one of the few people in town who had turned down the Metcalfe's invitation. She said she couldn't go because her immune system wouldn't have handled being exposed to so many people. Plus the food would irritate her symptoms—what little she could eat of it.
Catherine insisted that they go out to celebrate, though he wasn't sure what they were celebrating beyond his being in town for the first time in many months. He should have guessed, however, after he opened the door to Nicholl's Restaurant that Jade and Jewel Webb would be inside. They were friends of Anne's from college. They didn't live in Merton, but at least an hour away. Word had been sent of his being in town, and the two had managed to cut their day short to meet them for dinner.
Aunt Catherine was forever attempting to get him to settle down and move back to the 'family's town' as if it ever was. It had been thirty years since the Fitzwilliam family had all lived there together. And it had been over sixty years since the family had any real influence in Merton—as much as Catherine fooled herself into thinking that she was a mover and shaker.
Jade and Jewel flanked William at the table. They were opposites: Jade was dark, and Jewel was blond. But they knew exactly why they had been invited and talked nonstop, asking him incessant questions about his work. He recalled brunch the day before, and another young woman who had asked questions, but he considered the difference. He though their questions annoying, but decided it was because he was interested in Lizabeth. These two had also asked him those same questions before but hadn't paid attention. The fact that they got to talk was paramount., and he only gave short clipped answers. Catherine eventually took over answering for him, which suited him just fine.
His eyes wandered beyond their table. Monday night was an unusual night to dine out, and his eyes alighted at a table for two. Not a man and a woman, but two women. One of them he'd just been thinking about; Lizabeth Bennet sat talking to a friend. He watched the pair. She was animated as she spoke, laughing suddenly which made her companion laugh in response. He missed the whole conversation around him.
"William, where is your head?" said his aunt, calling him back.
"Just…details," he replied. "I should have gone back today."
"I'm sure Caroline can handle things," Anne remarked.
"You said you came to help with the paperwork," said his aunt.
"Yes," William nodded, still distracted. "I got all of the title searches done. There are no liens."
"Of course, there'd be no liens!" Catherine exclaimed, incensed. There had been on some of the other properties in years past.
"I'll drive home tomorrow. I had some ideas for edits to the script after coming here," he commented, more to himself.
"Oh, really?" said Jade. "Do tell."
"How does one become an actress in one of your productions," asked Jewel.
"Experience," he answered. William endured quips from both of the Webb sisters about putting them in one of his productions even though they were, to his mind, like his cousin, Anne: people who didn't have any real occupation. But it was a call that Catherine Deburg seconded as though he should just put anybody he knew in any capacity in his productions.
When the waiter came to whisk away their entrees and asked for dessert choices, he excused himself to go over to Lizabeth's table.
Lizabeth and Charlene were talking when a figure, somewhat taller than their waiter, suddenly stood next to their table. "Good evening."
She looked up to see William Darcy with a smile on his face. He had an assortment of smiles that she had seen in the last number of days, and they displayed an assortment of his feelings. But he seemed amused this evening and not angry as he had been that morning. (Angry to the point of being bitter when he had shown up and been made to wait for the computer to warm up.)
"Hello," Lizabeth said, not entirely understanding where she stood with this man. She thought they had been on friendly terms on Sunday, but that had all been flipped on its head with his behavior that morning when she had wanted to write him off. Any man who is willing to allow his emotions to be expressed in the moment like that and not have them under control wasn't someone worth her time.
"I'm having dinner here tonight too and thought I'd come by to say hi. I noticed you across the room," he explained.
"Oh. Well…" Lizabeth wasn't sure what else there was to say. "This is my friend, Charlene, did you meet each other on Saturday at the Metcalfe's party?"
"No, I don't think I did," he said in a very business-like way. "Name's William Darcy." He held out his hand. Charlene had been reaching for her wine, but instead reached across to shake his hand.
"I thought you needed to go back to LA this morning," she remarked with a little sass in her voice.
"I ended up having to stay," he said. "My aunt's property issues. I rearranged my schedule and decided to work from here. Caro can hold down the fort for another day…or two."
"So you'll go back tomorrow?" she prompted.
"I may end up staying a few more days," he evaded.
"Is it serious family issues? I hope not," she said, trying not to sound too inquisitive and wondering why he was talking to her. It was then that she looked over and saw that there was a table of women staring at them. "I think your family or friends are missing you."
"They'll do just fine without me," he quipped as though he was inviting himself to stay though she was willing him to go.
"So, you're one of the actors?" Charlene asked.
Lizabeth groaned a little. "He's a producer, not an actor," she snapped, hoping to cut short their conversation. "And don't ask what a producer does," she added quickly. "I'll explain later if you need to know."
William chuckled. "So we've indoctrinated you, Caroline and I?"
"I paid attention on Sunday. Yes," she asserted. She couldn't account for his standing over their table or talking to them. He didn't seem to have anything else to say, and Charlene didn't press any more questions on him about his work.
William stood in silence for a few heartbeats as they looked at him before he blurted out, "well, enjoy your evening."
"Thank you," they both replied, and he walked back to that table of women who eagerly welcomed him.
"What was that about?" asked Charlene. "Who is he, and does he have the hots for you or what?"
"What!" exclaimed Lizabeth. "No! I don't know."
"He's very good looking. And a producer, like Hollywood and movies, producer?"
"Not that level. He does online stuff for one of those subscription channels," she explained.
"But a producer? That's rather swanky, but he was definitely eying you. And you just met him? He was all over you," Charlene asserted.
"No, he wasn't!" Lizabeth shook her head. "Mostly, he's annoyed with me." She related how they had met when he first came into the registry office before she discovered him spider-watching at the country club. Though she and William had talked a little at the Metcalfe's party and at Sunday brunch, all of that had fallen apart again with his outburst to her that morning.
"He's an entitled SOB," Charlene remarked.
"Funny," said Lizabeth, interrupting her friend. "Ryan asserted Edgar was an SOB. Is that the only type of man I seem to be involved with?"
"Who's Ryan?" asked her friend.
"Turns out he's William's cousin. He was the captain of Team Pink. In the wheelchair."
"Oh yeah!" said Charlene, "interesting guy."
"We talked for a long time at the party. We were both early; Mimi sort of paired us up."
"But William?" Charlene was tenacious. "I still assert he likes you, even if he is giving mixed signals."
"I'm not sure I like him," Lizabeth replied. "Besides, I just broke up with Edgar. Why should I want to be involved with someone new?"
"Maybe finding somebody better than Edgar would help you get over him more quickly," Charlene suggested.
"Are you telling me that Edgar isn't worth getting over?" She frowned as she wasn't sure she wanted to hear disparaging remarks about her boyfriend—or ex-boyfriend.
"Perhaps," said Charlene.
"Do you know something that you're not telling me?" she asked.
"You know I've never liked Ed Stone. I never thought he was a good fit for you." Lizabeth encouraged her friend to continue with a hand flip, though inside, she wanted to yell at her to stop talking. "I could never account for why he wanted you. Except, maybe, you were some trophy to obtain and put in a case," Charlene explained.
She had shared about Ed asking her to marry him, but she hadn't shared about Saturday night or the sense Lizabeth got that a trophy wife was exactly what Edgar wanted, the more she thought about it. Was she too proud to admit such a thing to her friend? Her insides all felt queasy, and it wasn't because of dinner.
"You know, I think you're exactly right. That's what Ed wants. I never said I was in love with him. I thought we were just dating, and we had very different ideas about what we wanted in a relationship." It's one thing to know something in your head and another to admit the idea to somebody else.
"Maybe you should ascertain whether or not William Darcy, underneath all the bluster, really likes you," suggested her friend.
"I refuse to think that I should put up with a man who insults me because he likes me," Lizabeth asserted, shutting down her friend, and her argument that she consider such a prospect.
"On another note," Charlene said, as she finished her wine (noticing that the waiter was bringing the bill), "I think you should ask Mary about Ed."
When she was home, Lizabeth thought about what she had discussed with Charlene. She didn't want a man who insulted her because he liked her. That seemed playground-level stuff. She was ignorant about a lot of relationship nuances, but she thought she knew how you treat people. She always tried to be fair-minded and give people second chances, though continued bad behavior knocked them off her list. At least, that was her theory in life on how to treat others.
Her text notification sounded, and she picked it up, thinking it was Charlene with some quip about their evening. But it was Edgar. She'd forgotten about him and the proposal. The kitten had banished thoughts of Ed from her mind.
What the hell did you think you were doing by tearing a hole in wall to rescue a cat? You'll probably get fired for it
You need someone to take care of you
Obviously you need ME to look after you if you'd make such rash decisions, not let animal control handle it
Why the hell haven't you responded to my text from last night?
"I don't want to respond," Lizabeth told Ed's text out loud, though she didn't dare send a note back. Tears fell from her eyes, and she left her phone on the couch and went to bed. Her romance novel wasn't even touched as the events of the day pulled her to sleep.
She made it into the office with five minutes to spare the next morning. Her nemesis, William Darcy, didn't make an appearance. Not that she expected him back—he hadn't indicated that he needed to come back again; he had his files. As far as she knew, he was on his way to Los Angeles, and she didn't know when she would see him again. Maybe in six months, they would be filming his show in town, and she'd see him then.
But there were a plethora of phone calls as the article about the kitten, "Ameowsing Late Night Deposit," had appeared in the Merton Daily (even though it was an online paper). There was an enormous amount of interest in the kitten. Lizabeth accounted for it because people on the internet loved cats—she shouldn't have been surprised. The majority of the calls were people wanting to know if they could adopt it. But 'Kitty' (Lizabeth had no clever name) wasn't up for adoption.
She was disappointed that it wasn't a boy as she wanted to call him 'Rex' (short for Record). The kitten had spent the night with Dr. Robinson, the vet, being 'observed.' Lizabeth was going to keep it and assured every well-wisher that the kitten, while a little malnourished, was being cared for. Dr. Robinson said that Kitty could come home that evening. People even walked in from the street to see her, and Lizabeth had to patiently explain that the cat wasn't there.
But some people had legitimate business in the recording office. She watched a young man come through the front doors who was so out of place that she couldn't help but track his movements around the small space. He looked at the hanging signs and took in the various objects in the office before he caught her looking at him. He grinned as though Lizabeth admired him—as a woman admires a man in a sexual way. She shuddered. There wasn't anything physically appealing about him. He had terrible posture and the appearance of someone who had not exercised since being forced to in high school.
"I need to fill out a fictitious business statement," he called out, walking to the other side of the counter.
"Over here," she said, pointing down one station. He dutifully shuffled along the counter to the spot on the end. Lizabeth explained how the process worked. For the recording office, he merely had to give his full name, address, and contact information, and state what name he wished to use.
"Oh, that's easy!" he said, interrupting her.
"You also need to sign a statement saying you've done a state-wide search to verify that your name doesn't conflict with another in use within the state of California," she continued.
"Really? I thought I could use any name I wanted!" he said with swaggering confidence. She had seen that sort of confidence in other young men before.
"Have you?" Lizabeth pressed.
"Yeah, sure!" he answered. It was evident to both of them that he was lying. She began to explain the fees next. "Fees!" he cried in disgust.
"Yes, you must pay for any recording here. To make it official, you then have to publish your business name in the newspaper four times in succession over the next month." She was employing her best customer service voice, but felt exasperated by his interruptions; he wasn't someone who listened well.
"What! This is way too complicated."
"You could just do business in your own legal name," she pointed out.
"Why would I want to do that? That's no fun," he said mysteriously. He leaned over, invading her space. Lizabeth was happy about the separation that the counter provided.
"It depends on your motivation for having a fictitious name, none of which I can advise you on." She held up a hand as she anticipated his next question. "I can give you no legal advice. Once you have your name published, the newspaper will let me know. But you also need a business license from the city to conduct business."
"More fees, right?" he moaned as he leaned away. At least he had stopped breathing on her. She had finally taken him down a notch. There was something bothersome about this man. He was like those stereotypical gamers who never moved out of the house once they graduated from high school. They got all their news from forums that only fed their self-image, and didn't give them any real sense of the world. Her idea about him was reinforced with the name that he registered: Not Your Mother's Mining Company Ventures.
She had no idea what sort of business he was conducting. Lizabeth could only guess he was a gamer, but were there professional gamers? She dutifully took his money, gave him instructions about placing an ad with the Merton Daily, and gave him one last lecture about needing a business license. He left.
Only half of the people who conducted businesses using fictitious names ever applied for business licenses. Those who did business out of their homes didn't seem to think it a necessity. While the city required the license, there was no official way of checking between the two entities because they were city, and the recording office was county. Sometimes, when she ran into a city official, they joked they ought to do something about it.
After he walked out of the building, however, Lizabeth thought about another man who hadn't been quite as pushy but had a similar profile. She looked through the previous weeks' filings and found the application. It was a different personal name, but the business name was similar. Getting it Off While I Mine Ventures. There was that similarity with 'Mine' or 'Mining' and 'Ventures' in their names. She wondered if there was a connection.
Lizabeth was intrigued and did a database search on other fictitious business names, which included the name 'Mine' or 'Mining' and the word 'Ventures' and discovered that there had been three others in the past three months. She didn't remember any of the people; they hadn't been as annoying as the guy from that afternoon. But her curiosity was piqued about what was going on in Merton. The only thing she could think of was that popular mining game, and did they all play professional video games? Was the use of a fictitious business name related to playing games, at home, for a profit? And why didn't they want to use their real name? She couldn't think what they were doing.
She was going in to talk to Judge Metcalfe about it, with paperwork in-hand, when someone came in. The face was familiar because she had seen the woman's sister a couple of weeks before. The Jenkinson Quads were an institution in Merton. Lizabeth had heard about them even before she had moved to the city (when she used to come merely to visit her aunt and uncle) because they were just about the same age. People talked about them for various reasons. Some considered it a case of IVF having gotten out of hand: Mrs. Jenkinson had two eggs implanted, but both eggs had split, and she ended up with four babies. They were Karen and Karsen, and Kate Lyn and Kaley.
Lizabeth had issued a marriage license to Karen Jenkinson two weeks before, though privacy laws (and her own personal code of ethics) meant she didn't discuss such things. She wondered which sister this was and if they would all appear in short order. She had no idea if Karen had gotten married yet, or what sort of wedding they had planned. The fact that this Jenkinson sister brought a young man with her hinted that she was there for a marriage license as well.
This daughter was Kate Lyn. She and her fiancé, Daniel Wilcox, worked through the marriage license application together but also asked about a civil ceremony which her sister hadn't done.
"The judge only performs them in the afternoons on Tuesdays, Wednesdays, and Thursdays," Lizabeth explained.
"Today's a Tuesday!" said Kate Lyn brightly.
"Yes, but it's almost closing time. The Judge usually does them right after lunch."
"How about tomorrow?" Daniel asked. Lizabeth was curious why they were in a hurry, but also knew it wasn't her business to ask. She wondered if there was a competition of some sort, a coup to be married before Karen.
"I'll need to check the Judge's schedule," she announced. They needed to finish the application before bothering the Judge.
"I don't need a blood test, do I?" Daniel asked.
"No," Lizabeth answered. She confirmed that they hadn't been married before, and they filled out their full names and addresses. She knew Kate Lyn was over eighteen since Karen had been in two weeks earlier, and Lizabeth also confirmed that neither had been married. Then she knocked on the Judge's door; he kept his own calendar.
"I have a civil ceremony request," Lizabeth explained after he had asked her to step inside.
"Thursday. I can do Thursday," Judge Metcalfe confirmed after checking his calendar.
"I'm sure they'd be happy with that," she remarked. "They asked about today!" She might have made a face.
"It's quitting time!" he laughed.
"Yeah," she nodded. "Thursday at 1:30," she told Kate Lyn and Daniel when she was back at the counter.
"Great," said Daniel.
"Hmm," was Kate Lyn's response. She glared at Lizabeth and then turned those unhappy eyes on her fiancé; she was in a rush to get married.
"You can bring witnesses, or I can stand in for you," Lizabeth explained.
"Alright," murmured the young woman noncommittally before turning to leave.
Lizabeth meant to go back and talk to the Judge about the 'mining venturists,' but it was getting late, and she was due to pick up the kitten from Dr. Robinson. She decided to leave that conversation for another day. The Judge would be getting ready to go home. He had been leaving early these days, an anxious father-to-be.
She closed up right at five and practically ran out the door. Dr. Robinson's practice stayed open until 5:30, and she was eager to see the kitten. Lizabeth had shopped at a pet store during her lunch break for everything she thought was needed for pet ownership, but was indescribably excited when she walked into the vet's office.
"Miss Bennet!" cried the receptionist. "You will have your hands full, but I believe she's ready to go. Have you decided on a name?"
"No," Lizabeth answered, feeling a little less elated. "But I can't wait to see her again."
"She's the most talkative thing," warned the receptionist. There was paperwork to fill out, and bills to pay (larger than she had anticipated), but she and the kitten were celebrities; she hoped she had received a bit of a discount.
Dr. Robinson opened the door and invited her back. He had a lot to share about her new friend, and the vet reiterated what the receptionist said. "She's very talkative."
"You mean she's still in pain or distress?" Lizabeth asked, worried then as she had never been a pet owner before. Dawn wouldn't allow pets.
"No, but I've found that, for some reason, orange tabbies are talkative," explained the vet.
"Talkative! How can a cat be talkative?" she asked.
"You'll see," he said but offered no other explanation.
A veterinary assistant brought the kitten in, wrapped up in old toweling. Once put down on the table, Lizabeth went to pet her. The cat cried loudly. When she stopped, the cat meowed again in protest as if it wasn't sure if it wanted to be petted, but hadn't wanted Lizabeth to stop either.
"See, they just have a lot to say," Dr. Robinson stated matter-of-factly.
"Oh. But she is better?" She needed reassurance.
"Yes. I gave her sub-cue fluids. I suggest you give her a kitten diet, but you're free to take her home now."
The cat was placed in a box which made her howl as much as when she'd been locked in the night deposit. It was a miserably long drive to her apartment when there was a howling cat next to her on the seat. Lizabeth hovered once home. At first, 'Kitty' wouldn't come out of the carrier despite having protested the entire trip. Neither food nor strokes or a wriggling string induced it to poke a whisker out.
Lizabeth gave up and went to change clothes only to come back to an empty box and no kitten. There weren't many places an orange ball of fluff could hide, but it took her over twenty minutes to discover her snoozing under the bed in her spare room.
Kitty slept until she was ready to make dinner, then the kitten demanded instant attention. First, to be fed, then to play. Her usual plans for cooking went out the window. An hour later, Lizabeth felt lucky to have found time to reheat a can of soup.
A/N: my beta suggested I mention the background for this version of Elizabeth. 'Lizabeth' is loosely based on two friends who grew up in restrictive households. Both had over-bearing parents, were told what to do, and after college graduation, their parents bought them or long-term rented apartments as a means of keeping control over them (don't knock with CA housing prices).
'T' had the controlling mother who I've often channeled for my Mrs. Bennet portrayals over the years. T had to come over for Sunday dinners every week until she was at least 40. 'E' had an abusive father who thought nothing of picking her up and tossing her across the room if she was disobedient. Neither has been good with relationships, neither married. I had mentally dedicated this story to them as in print we can have HEA, right? But the sort of control and mind-fuckery it imposed on them was crippling. It really isn't easy to shake off or walk away from your cage and your jailers.
T has done okay, deciding that being an old cat lady with her bees outside pollinating her garden, and weekly visits with girlfriends to favorite wine bar makes for a great life. E has struggled more. She's a scientist and even Austen's Caroline would say she was 'accomplished,' yet doesn't think she is as has never found her self-worth.
We may be born with an inherent nature, but nurture matters too. Don't knock someone who is struggling to find the key to unlock a cage.
