Chapter 34
When he entered the bedroom, Fitzwilliam let out a shout.
Shattered and all around his room, were pieces of broken glass and in the harsh light of the evening, he had to pause in his tracks when he noticed that there was a picture frame lying on top of his bedroom bed. He was as equally as stunned when he heard the doctor's voice ask, who had accompanied him upstairs.
"A picture frame on top of your bed and shattered glass around?"
The doctor turned and the two men stared at each other before the doctor asked.
"Mr. Darcy? What's happening inside your house that I should know about?"
It must have been the pain in his lungs which prevented him from speaking and the loss of his wife, Elizabeth, which hindered Chris from answering right away. He swallowed before he answered,
"Doc? I think I should update you on this on another day,"
"Not now when you're in such a state like this," the doctor replied and he helped Chris limp away from the bedroom. Fredrick and the other servants were thanking the neighbors outside of the manor for arriving but none of them had bothered to help Fitzwilliam or the doctor, so the two men had decided to do the job themselves which was to help Fitzwilliam up to his bed and ease him to sleep and delay his work for two days until his lungs were healed. Thankfully, the doctor explained to Chris that his lungs would be healed and that it only consisted of time to allow the healing process to occur. But now, as he allowed the doctor to help him into another bedroom, Fitzwilliam felt more like he was with his father, who helped him whenever he'd been in pain as a little boy; always there for him, as he would have addressed it. He swallowed when another wave of pain hit him from inside his lungs and he coughed.
The doctor's hand patted his on his left as he soothed, in a fatherly tone.
"Into bed and pray for Elizabeth, Fitzwilliam; she'll return."
He was too busy coughing to ask a question but Fitzwilliam took the doctor's advice as he allowed the man to help him into a nearby room and before he realized it, Fitzwilliam was lying down, flat on his back, eyes closed, and doing his best to breathe. When he heard the doctor's voice talking with someone else, Fitzwilliam didn't bother to open his eyes as he prayed.
"Father in Heaven! Please bring Elizabeth back to me!"
And then blackness fell upon him and he remembered no more. The last words he heard were.
"He's inside and he's only recovering."
Fredrick side stepped the pieces of glass.
He disliked knowing that he was asked to clean up the wreckage but he knew that the doctor and his uncle were right. Chris was in no frame of health to even help so he knew that Elizabeth would have wished him to help and he did so willingly. He swallowed as he bent down and with the help of his uncle, who had been notified about the fire and the upstairs room, after writing down some notes, the uncle and nephew set to work to clean up the pieces of glass. And both were wearing gloves to make sure that they didn't receive a cut and when Fredrick remembered how Chris had broken the poisoned bottle in his hand, he hoped that the scars on them weren't harsh or deep. As he made his way over towards the bed, he suddenly glanced down and his eyes widened at the portrait. In an excited voice, he called out.
"Uncle! You'd best hurry over here!"
"What is it, Fredrick?" the sheriff asked as he made his way over to him. Fredrick and his uncle were great friends and Fredrick, when time allowed him, admired his uncle's work so much, that he had asked if it were possible for him to shadow in one day to see if he would be able to step in as sheriff one day and his uncle had willingly spoken that he would permit him at any time!
Returning, Fredrick pointed towards the painting as he exclaimed.
"This is the painting of my aunt!"
His uncle swallowed because the painting was the image of his deceased wife who had been murdered when Elizabeth and Fredrick were young and Fredrick knew that this was a touchy topic with him. It was also because of her murder that he had changed from the layman he was, to a man of deeper Faith and became the sheriff of Charleston. His wife had meant the world to him and when she had met her end like that, Fredrick's uncle had done a move which surprised all the family and his decision to help others rather than conceal himself and hate God took hold of his heart and this had inspired Fredrick to do the same and he admired his uncle greatly for this. But his uncle didn't wish to speak about his deceased wife as he asked.
"Freddy? Continue."
"There's a note on top of it," Fredrick answered gently as he heard his uncle's voice mourn the loss of his wife. He reached out and soon the note was inside his hands. Then he made a face and turned away.
"What?" His uncle asked.
"This smells like smoke!" Fredrick exclaimed; he held the note out as he finished.
"Here, you take it!"
His uncle's voice soothed the moment when Fredrick heard.
"You're just like my wife, Fredrick; she did that too whenever she disliked the smell of something which didn't make her nose rest."
He waved a hand back and forth as he answered.
"Whew! You're telling me! Smells like it arrived from the barn!"
When he spoke this, Fredrick turned and met the eyes of his uncle. Both of them widened their eyes and his uncle quickly returned his attention at the note and soon read one sentence.
"Our Lady of Perpetual Help."
Fitzwilliam tossed and turned; he was hearing those voices again.
He couldn't focus or concentrate when he heard two voices and a feminine one talking outside of his bedroom door as he heard the following sentences.
"The painting was ripped from the one downstairs in the living room!"
"And all the pieces were around in the bedroom as well as the bed?!"
"Yes!"
"Thank goodness you're our uncle to help us realize this!"
"How close were we to have known that?!"
"Well, she hasn't known about it since they married!"
"And the painting was taken down and the frame's also missing!"
"And the only way it could have happened?"
"The fire!"
"The barn and all those horses inside!"
Whatever where they talking about? Fitzwilliam's mind asked him and he continued to move his head from side to side. Was he in a nightmare or was he really listening to them? Where in the world was he? And his lungs burned a bit.
He heard them continue.
"Better report this as soon as you can!"
"Uncle?!"
"Yes?"
"What about the fire?"
"There's no explanation but we were all fooled!"
"And they're moving along fast! Both of them are in danger!"
"When shall they figure it out before he bursts his buttons?"
"He's already done that and you know this,"
"Oh, my!"
His lungs burned and he coughed.
"Better not bother him; I just heard him cough.
"I wouldn't blame him but he's got to know about this eventually or he'll be the next target,"
"Like those horses and the barn?"
"Yes and don't bother to read the paper in the following days."
"Will do no good because they've become really gruesome now."
"Finish everything we can and then let's hibernate."
"Love your sense of humor!"
He dreamed he was standing on a baseball field.
The bat was in his hands and his tall figure stood tall and erect. He felt all eyes on him as he positioned his feet at first base and he held the bat high. He kept his eyes on the thrower and he saw him nod; his other comrades were around him and he could hear the cries of those he loved most: his wife and mother. He remembered how his mother had helped him with her and how his heart had been touched when she had left the two alone to be together. His heart soared to the sky and his masculinity stationed his feet when he heard a voice call out,
"Go, Fitzwilliam! You can do this!"
His eyes bent in determination when her voice responded.
"I have confidence and faith in you, love!"
He would have longed to stay and hear her voice from eternity on as he took in a breath.
He kept his eyes on the pitcher and the shouts of his other playmates echoed.
"You can do this, Fitzwilliam!"
"Don't let us down! We're almost winning!"
"Station yourselves and get ready."
He swallowed again and he heard the ref cry out.
"Two!"
Her arms wrapped themselves around his chest as she stood behind him. He felt all the manly protection for her in the world as the crowd stood in stunned silence as they watched. He had the bat in his hands but he knew that the dragon faced him like a menacing beast. The crowd didn't seem to be stirred when he felt her hands wrap themselves around him and he stationed himself more when he felt her do this. His masculine body, as he held that bat up, allowed him to feel and for her to see how he was protecting her from the foe and he felt her hands wrap themselves around his back and to his chest, he knew instantly that she wanted protection and he was there for her. He heard her voice speak,
"Fitzwilliam?! Save me!"
He knew he was wanted and needed and he felt it in his manly body. He heard the growl of the dragon and when he made eye contact with him, the bat he was holding suddenly changed into one of sword. The sword was golden and silver and the edges were sharp and he could have sliced the dragon's throat with it in a flash. But her hands were wrapped around back and then the sword changed back to the bat. He felt her hands touch him and then he outwardly saw himself, in his body, with hers standing next to his on the baseball field. Her dress was waving in the wind and against his body, the two made a match as the wind continued to circle around them and Fitzwilliam saw how the image portrayed that of something even greater. His body, masculine and hers, feminine and modest, revealed that of the Holy Trinity and God, the Heavenly Father and His response to his children whenever they were in danger. He blinked as he saw this image: the visible made invisible through that of the male and female bodies. But it was the cry of God the Father in his masculine body which called him to protect Elizabeth for an urgent reason. Chris could feel it in his body when he saw how manly he was and he knew the Father was asking him to die to himself to protect her. He felt a deep voice inside him say.
"When you protect her, you fulfill your masculine role as the leader and spiritual guide for me, and you set an example to free her heart from all the hindrances of the enemy and you allow her to live emotionally and physically, my son."
He felt the Father's call and his body shake and tremble in masculine response. He knew that his calling to be that example of God the Father was more powerful than being prideful and selfish, thinking of himself and not of the woman he loved most. He loved feeling this feeling masculinity and he felt her arms wrap themselves around him and as if she were running in his direction, running and hiding behind him, he felt God the Father's loving eyes follow him, gently inspiring him and encouraging him to protect her… even if it meant his life… but he was guaranteed that he would be safe when he offered his sacrifice to do this and when Fitzwilliam experienced this, he felt greater than he'd ever felt in his life! He returned to his body and he felt her hands wrap themselves around his upper chest and her skirt flying in the wind.
The sight was captivating and when those around them saw this, they all expressed loudly.
"We want to see more! Give us more!"
The other men out in audience were feeling this way too; stunned, they watched as Elizabeth's figure jumped and rushed around and she hid behind Fitzwilliam. He wasn't dreaming and his heart hoped that this wouldn't ever end! He felt manlier and needed than ever before and he didn't care how he displayed his masculinity and he loved the feeling of her hands around his chest.
Having her run behind him in such a frightened, dependent feminine manner made his love for her grow when she did this. He believed and knew that he could slay and kill the dragon with his bat and with her standing behind him, her arms wrapped around his chest, he knew she had faith and trust in him that he would slay the beast and destroy any vice which could be hindering her from living her life. He knew the Father was calling him to do something and he was trusting his son to do this and Fitzwilliam felt the presence of God the Father deep within him. He knew that God the Father was masculine and He cared for his little ones and if any of them were hurt, He would always come running and Fitzwilliam had learned this from his own father but feeling the presence of God the Father Himself was even better than that of his earthly father!
He took in a deep breath when he answered Elizabeth's plea.
"I will protect you and keep you safe from him."