Hello lovely readers! It's been a while but I've got a long one for you. A lot of time is covered in this one, with a dash of Ardeth to bide us all over. Please let me know what you think, it truly brings me joy to know you all enjoy reading this story as much as I enjoy luxuriating in writing it. Happy reading and stay safe!
One month later.
Elizabeth picked at the waist of her dress with mild distain. It was new, from Camilla who insisted she wear something nice for the evening's festivities. Christmas parties to the Whitmore family were indeed an event to get dressed up for, where much preparation and a years worth of stories to preface lay ahead.
Elizabeth had to admit the dress was indeed lovely; green silk with beaded embellishments patterned around the loose waist—just not her style entirely. And as well, it was of a new and expressive trend Elizabeth all but loathed.
"Oh you look lovely Lizzy." Camilla turned into her room holding a hairbrush and a bundle of hairpins prepared to trained Elizabeth's head into an entirely new vision.
"You think?" Elizabeth eyed herself in the mirror and picked at the beads again. "I'm not certain it's quite me—what do you think?"
Camilla looked at the dress and then looked at Elizabeth's reflection, and shrugged.
"Well it's not beige wool or linen like you usually wear but it's something quite alluring—don't you think?" Camilla's word rang true as she fussed with her own hair. Elizabeth had to admit, it was quite beautiful—and she felt quite beautiful in it. "Besides, isn't Mack going to be attending?"
Elizabeth struggled to hold a blush, "Yes, I believe he is. Why should I care though?"
Camilla eyed her sister-in-law with a look of trite boredom, "Please Lizzy, you cannot tell me that gorgeous, impeccably dressed, and clever man is not of any interest to you."
"He's not, Camilla!" Elizabeth gently applied rouge to her lips, ruby. "He's just a friend, I enjoy his company and he enjoys mine—that's the end of it."
Camilla looked like she wanted to say something and even started but stopped herself. "Well, say what you will but I've seen the way Mack looks at you—the man practically melts at a glance from you. A chance at a glance even."
Elizabeth scoffed, assuming Camilla to be exaggerating. Over the past month Elizabeth and Mack had gotten along so well they had become quite good friends in such a short period of time. Mack was kind and funny, enjoyed listening to her stories about the desert, about her patients, and even helped her with the tricky bits of her book exploring her surgical history.
It wasn't until this moment that Elizabeth wondered why he was so kind to her. Was he interested in her? Truly, in that way?
Before she could dwell too much on it, Camilla was yanking her downstairs where the party had already started. The first time her father had met Mack echoed in her mind.
One week ago.
Over the initial weeks of their friendship it hadn't been unusual for Mack to bring Elizabeth flowers when he came over for tea. His tailor shop was adjacent to a florist, which happened to be his cousin as well. His reasoning for offering such kind bouquets—family discount. Elizabeth loved the flowers as much as she could, though she wondered if he would ever have the sense to guess her favorite.
This time it was daisies.
"Good morning, Eliza." Mack kissed her cheek and she kissed his. He called her Eliza but she didn't have the heart to tell him she hated the name.
Today was special though because her father was joining them for breakfast.
"Come on, he's already in the den." Elizabeth smelled the daises and smiled, not her favorite but still very nice this late in winter.
"You must be Mister Whitmore!" Mack squeezed past Elizabeth to shake her father's hand, "Truly a pleasure sir."
Ernest, still seated, eyed him before gripping his hand in nothing short of a vice grip. Elizabeth could tell Mack tried not to wince.
"Good to meet you, son. Have a seat." Ernest's voice boomed in his typical fashion, but to Elizabeth seemed less than genuine.
The breakfast was nice, and at the time Elizabeth would not realize her father was watching her the entire time. Watching her smile, gauging its validity, gauging her happiness. He was suspicious of every choice she had made since returning from Egypt. He was suspicious whether she had truly changed, or was forcing a life that did not suit her. The life of an Englishwoman in the Western world.
He would accept the change, given her reasoning a sound one. Still, it didn't settle right with him one bit. Not yet at least.
As the morning shifted to an end Elizabeth promptly saw Mack out. At the door he turned to her, wiping his hands on his trousers.
"I don't think your father liked me much." He whispered close to her.
"Don't take it personally, he doesn't like anyone right away." Elizabeth lied, she would have been blind not to notice the coldness of her father that morning.
"I guess that makes me feel a bit better." Mack smiled in that sheepish way that Elizabeth found adorable.
"Maybe next time we can have dinner, Whitmore's are a bit more relaxed when there's a bottle of wine on the table." Elizabeth chuckled and kissed Mack on the cheek. "I'll see you soon, Mack."
He kissed her softly on the cheek, lingering like he did, squeezing her arm gently.
"Till then, Eliza."
When Elizabeth turned she jumped, her father stood at the base of the stairs, all casual and inconspicuous.
"My god, I didn't hear you." Elizabeth clutched her chest.
"I know."
"Was there a particular reason you're lurking in the shadows, father?"
"Mackenzie?"
"What did you think?" Elizabeth asked, hopeful. Her father answered with a silent and pointed eye, and she deflated. "What?"
"Nothing, sweetheart, he's just a bit dull is all."
"Well I think he's quite kind. Besides, we're just friends. It's nice to have a friend after all this."
"You sure it's just friends?" Ernest asked.
"Yes, absolutely. I don't want any sort of attachment right now. But Mack is kind and understands what I've been through."
"Does he? Does he understand all of it?"
"Well no, but—"
"Do what you want Elizabeth, just be cautious darling." He kissed his daughter's forehead and walked away, ending the conversation.
Elizabeth called after him, "I am cautious, I enjoy his company—that is all!"
Present.
"And I told him, 'look buddy, you either jump down the ravine full of poisonous vipers or we set the palm trees ablaze hoping some random ship will see the damn flames!'" A roar of laughter filled the den around Ernest Whitmore, jazz echoed through the halls, glasses clinked, and Elizabeth made a bee line for her father.
"And so, what'd he do, old boy?" A fellow mustachioed comrade of Mister Whitmore urged the tipsy storyteller.
"You'd never guess it but we swallowed down the last of the whisky and down that ravine we went into safety." The men around her father gasped and laughed, "Yep, that's the story of how Winston Churchill and I narrowly escaped capture from the French in the humid pit swamps of the Caribbean."
Elizabeth walked up to her father and kissed him on the cheek as the men encircled ooo'd and aw'd at her father's tale.
"Hello, my beautiful daughter." Ernest smiled wide as Elizabeth took his glass of bourbon and downed it all in one gulp. "Atta girl, drown those sorrows."
"Good story, pop. Next time though, snakes are only poisonous if you eat them." Her father nodded, mentally taking that note with a wink.
"Enjoy the party, Lizzy—I think Mack just arrived." Her father nodded to the front door, only this time with added intention that was not understood by Elizabeth in the slightest.
Nonetheless Elizabeth searched the room, at least fifty people in attendance and it was hard to make out anyone she may have recognized through the smoke, candlelight, and blinding laughter and chatter. But then, her eyes caught a flash of a black cloak that slipped out into the garden.
"Ardeth?" Elizabeth sat her drink down and pushed herself as gently as she could through the crowded den. She pushed the garden door open and saw the black figure turn the corner of the house. Despite the cold Elizabeth rushed around the corner into the street, looking around and around but saw no sight of him, only posh guests arriving for their party.
Elizabeth rubbed her eyes and sighed. Her breath came out in clouds and her skin prickled from the cold but she felt like she was on fire. Her mind must be playing tricks with her.
"Eliza?" She turned and saw Mack stepping out of a car, his bundled form comically apparent to her less than bundled appearance. "What are you doing out here? It's frigid."
Mack proceeded to remove his coat and sling it around her shoulders, rubbing them and holding her close.
"I just thought I saw someone I knew. But it's no matter. Let's go inside." Elizabeth took him by the hand and they promptly enjoyed the night's festivities together tipsy and full of food and laughter.
…
That night was the last night Elizabeth would think about Ardeth for the next year. A year of writing and exploring what roads she was taking next. At first it was special care not to think about him, about the love that she had—once had—for him. But eventually it became habit, and after so long she didn't have to try. That is, until a night many months later, where he fluttered into her mind like the wind.
It was strange, the memory that popped up in Elizabeth's head right before bed that night, sparked by the candle stick she had by her bedside to light her evening read. Nestled in bed, clothed in the soft white cotton of her nightgown and bedsheets, Elizabeth stared at the way the candle flickered on the white of the page, how the words seemed to meld together into long arches and dips, how after a few moments the words on the page started to look like the dip of his hips, the hollow of his neck…
"Have you been working on your Arabic?" Ardeth asked, his hand softly tracing up Elizabeth's back.
"Yes I have. And actually right now I'm on anatomy." Elizabeth mumbled softly into his chest, her fingers tracing circles and love notes into his muscles. Ardeth hummed and his hand traced over her shoulders, up her neck and to her lips. He traced her lips with the tip of his finger.
"What are these called?" He asked.
"Lips," Elizabeth replied in Arabic and Ardeth kissed them softly. Then he pointed at her elbow.
"And this?"
"Elbow."
The quiet game continued, Ardeth's lips grazed over her skin with every body part she could name, and those she couldn't he passed over—much to her disappointment.
Finally, resting between her legs Ardeth kissed her inner thigh, resting his hand in her warmth.
"And this?" He asked with gentle finality.
Elizabeth smiled softly at him, "I'm not sure…you tell me?"
Ardeth smiled and kissed her unobtrusively and so light she barely felt his lips on her.
"Oasis…" His breath warm and smooth like silk.
Some time later.
"What do you think about love, Mack?" Elizabeth and Mack sat in their regular booth at the pub one October evening, enjoying a pint after dinner.
Mack took a sip of beer and narrowed his brow in contemplation, "About love?"
"Yeah. How do you feel love fits into our lives?"
After several moments of thought Mack shrugged, "Love is love, I suppose, it either happens or it doesn't."
"Do you think it has inherent purpose in our lives?"
"Why are you asking me these things? Are you trying to tell me something?" He winked and Elizabeth laughed, rolling her eyes.
"I'm just curious, is all. I think it's important to understand each other's understanding of love. It's really all we have when you think about it. And if we don't, then…" Elizabeth trailed off, realizing in that moment she would never have love again, it wouldn't be the same as how she has loved in the past.
Ardeth drifted into her mind and her stomach wretched and turned in discomfort. Quickly she took a swig of beer and like the golden liquid, swallowed all thoughts bound to make her spiral.
"Eliza?"
"Hmm? Oh yes, sorry—got lost there for a moment. What were we talking about?"
"Love." Mack's voice was low, his smile was soft and his eyes were a kind of blue like a French sky. He really was quite handsome, wasn't he? Elizabeth thought to herself how silly she had been not to notice until now just how attracted she was to him.
"Charlie you're going to fall!" Camilla laughed as her husband balanced expertly on a rope tied between two trees in the back garden. Elizabeth clapped, taking sips of her wine and laughing at her brother's ridiculous parading.
"I'm telling you Cam, Liz and I used to do this all the time as kids." The rope buckled but Charlie maintained his balance.
"Yes, when we were kids, twenty odd years ago!" Elizabeth laughed and glanced at Mack who sat beside her. When he noticed the attention he smiled softly but to Elizabeth his mind seemed occupied. "Mack, are you alright?"
"Yeah, yeah—I'm quite alright, I think I just need to go warm up by the fire inside." He softly kissed Elizabeth's cheek and rushed into the house.
"Aw, Mack—don't leave just yet!" Charlie yelled from the rope and within another step completely face-planted into the grass.
Elizabeth let out a heavy laugh as Camilla rushed to her husband, struggling to hold in a fit of giggles herself.
"Better luck next time, brother." Elizabeth swatted some flecks of grass from his cheek.
"Oh you're the expert, Lizzy—show us how it's done then!"
"I will!" Elizabeth took another swig of wine and slipped her heels off. She stepped up on the robe which was only a couple feet from the ground and steadied herself. One step at a time she walked across the rope, but towards the middle she nearly buckled.
"Oh you got it, Lizzy! Just a little farther!" Camilla cheered her on and Elizabeth felt flushed from the love and the wine. When she looked up she saw her father in the window of his den arguing with Mack. She couldn't hear what they were saying but her father looked…frustrated and angry.
Elizabeth took one step then and yelped as her foot missed the rope and she fell to the ground.
"Yes! I win! I got farther!" Charlie cheered for himself as Elizabeth looked up to see Mack had left the den and her father was pouring himself a glass of whisky.
"Oh Lizzy, are you okay?" Camilla was at her side in a second helping her stand.
"Oh I'm quite fine. Perhaps I needed the humility." Elizabeth laughed, brushing herself off, "I do think I've had a bit too much to drink, perhaps."
Charlie kissed Camilla and swiftly pulled her towards the garden, "Come on, love, let me teach you the ways of the rope."
"Oh goodness, Charlie, please I beg of you," Camilla laughed, letting her husband guide her. Elizabeth smiled softly at the door, watching them for a moment before making her way inside.
"Mack?" Elizabeth walked through the kitchen and into her father's den. Of course, he was there but Mack was not, "Dad, did you see where Mack went off to?"
Ernest looked up at her from the fire and was silent for several moments before he poured another glass of whisky, assumedly for her.
"Have a seat, Elizabeth."
Ernest rarely used her full name and immediately Elizabeth felt like she was in some sort of trouble. Quickly she sat opposite her father in front of the fire.
"Mack went home." Ernest said simply.
"Oh. I see." Elizabeth took the glass of whisky, "Did he—did he say why?"
Ernest cleared his throat and changed the subject. "Can I ask you something, Elizabeth?"
"Of course."
"Why are you here?"
"Excuse me?"
Ernest sighed and looked into the flickering flames of the fire, "I need to understand why you've given it all up, Lizzy. Why you are here in England when I know full well you want to be Egypt? What happened to the passion to make a difference you preached?"
Elizabeth was utterly aghast, this confrontation had seemingly erupted from thin air.
She replied, "You don't know what I want—I'm allowed to change my mind father."
"Okay, yes—of course you're allowed to change your mind, dear, I just don't believe it has."
Elizabeth narrowed her eyes and tried not to get angry with her father's abrasive approach. "Believe me. I want to be here in England with you and with Charlie and Camilla and Charlotte. My heart and my passion is here now—I want to move on."
"See that's what I don't understand sweetheart, move on from what?"
"I'm sorry, dad, am I the only one that seems to remember that I was dead for an entire year?"
Ernest adjusted himself in his chair, "Of course you're not the only one who remembers that. But if I'm being honest, it is as though the old Elizabeth stayed dead and the Elizabeth we have now is a completely different person. I'm just confused, darling, and I want to understand."
Elizabeth ran her hands through her hair trying to calm her mind, after a moment she decided to change the subject back. "Why did Mack leave?"
Ernest, however, continued to ignore her question, "Why don't you talk about him?"
Elizabeth slammed her glass down on the side table and stood, "I told you I didn't want to talk about him. I don't want to yearn for something that is never going to happen, I need to move on."
"Talk to me, tell me why you think that was never going to happen."
"Because when I came back, dad, when Abdal pulled me from the sand and I saw Ardeth for the first time after dying, he couldn't even look at me. He wanted nothing to do with me and yes, I was heartbroken but I'm starting to move on from it—why aren't you letting me?"
"Tell me about Mack then—"
Elizabeth scrunched her brow, "Papa, Mack is just a friend, I don't understand why you are acting so strange."
"Does Mack know you are just friends?"
"What?" Elizabeth looked at her father who's chest heaved and he spoke with his hands.
"Because this is the second time he's asked me for my blessing. My blessing to marry you, Elizabeth."
Elizabeth froze in place and her mind went blank for several moments. All these little moments from Mack; the attention, the flowers—all born from intention. This intention. The intention.
"What…what did you say?"
"I said no, of course," Ernest scoffed.
"What? Why?"
"Because I've already given that permission to someone else," Her father spoke low and calm.
"Who?" Elizabeth, who's mind was fuzzy and nearly incoherent, asked softly.
"Who do you think?" Ernest rested his hands on her shoulders and looked into his daughter's teary eyes. "I refused to give Mack my blessings because of Ardeth…but after this time I figured I better ask you rather than continuing to assume."
Elizabeth was quiet for several moments, processing everything. Mack had asked for her father's blessing twice now, but apparently so had Ardeth—but who knows how long ago that had happened. So much had changed in two years.
"If this is what you really want, I have to be certain you no longer have feelings for Ardeth and he no longer for you."
Elizabeth wiped the tears from her cheeks, "Do you see him here? Do you see me in Egypt with him?"
Ernest wrapped his arms around his daughter's shoulders and she cried in his cardigan. Cried for the first time in so long.
"You can love two people, you know? You can love thousands—all in different ways." Ernest whispered in her ear, rubbing soft circles into her back, "Love can be so many things but one thing it has been proven not to be is simple. It will never be simple. You were certainly never a simple girl."
Elizabeth felt the hot burn of her father's wool cardigan against her cheek and felt those words in her chest, cementing to the inside of her heart.
"I loved him so much but you're right—I'm not the same person I was before I died. Nothing is the same. And he knew that, he couldn't love a different—a different—"
Ernest let out a heavy sigh and pulled back. He looked deep into his daughter's eyes and nodded. It was a silent agreement, that even though he had said she was different initially out of anger—they both knew it to be true.
"If you want my blessing to marry Mack…you have it." Ernest said with distinct purpose, though he didn't want to say it, he knew he must.
Elizabeth felt bubbles erupt in her stomach and her breath slipped out of her throat before she could breathe for herself. Did Mack love her? This new her that had been rejected by her old life? Did she love him?
Did Elizabeth want this? Did she want an English husband, to be an English wife? an To have…an English life?
…
That evening Elizabeth did not sleep. Her racing mind full of thoughts of Ardeth—of Mack, and of love.
She was here, wasn't she? She was in England and not Egypt. She had her family and she had Mack. She had a purpose as well; to publish a book of memoir and medical instruction from her history. She was nearly completed and even working with an agent to send it off to publishers. She was…happy, wasn't she?
There was a rumble outside, and gentle rain drops hit the windows. Frustrated, Elizabeth sat up and watched the rain drops grow bigger and bigger from her warm bed. It was as close to something like home she could learn to love.
"Oh for bloody's sake."
Elizabeth flung the sheets away and was dressed in less than two minutes before she was out the door. The biting chill and the drizzle kept Elizabeth's mind distracted while her feet took her where she needed to go.
Several raps on the door brought in the reality of where Elizabeth was very quickly. A tired and pajama-clad Mack was shocked to find Elizabeth, soaked from head to toe, shivering in the rain at his front door.
"Eliza—"
"Do you love me?" She breathed out. To the point, yes. Mack blinked, gently taken aback. "My father told me that you've asked for his blessing twice now so I would assume that means that you…that you must love me?"
"Yes, of course I love you Elizabeth. I've loved you from the moment we—"
Elizabeth kissed him quickly, her hands gripping both sides of his face. After his moment of shock, Mack fell deep into the kiss and pulled Elizabeth into his flat and out of the cold.
When they parted Elizabeth smiled, "That was nice, wasn't it?"
"Very nice," Mack chuckled. "Eliza I—"
"Mackenzie, will you marry me?"
Mack stood in another shocked silence before kissing her again, this time with practiced warmth. When they parted he reached into his coat that hung by the door and produced a small velvet blue box. He opened it revealing the loveliest diamond ring Elizabeth had ever seen.
"I had it made the day after we met."
"It's settled then." Elizabeth kissed him again and Mack slipped the ring on to her finger. It was the first time Elizabeth had felt anything since she had left Egypt.