My Darling Love

Chapter 30 – Turnabout in Unfair Play

"The power of Trust stands above all in the greatness of qualities"

-Steven Stanford

"It's a matter of trust, George, do you understand?'

The definition of trust as found in the dictionary: 1) Firm reliance on the integrity, ability, or character of a person. 2) Holding custody and or care. 3) Something committed into the care of another; charge. 4) One in which confidence is placed. 5) Reliance on something in the future; a hope

"I say good man, do you understand?"

George Darling stood before Sir Edward Quiller Couch in his office and nodded his head quickly, "Yes sir, trust. I understand."

Sir Edward leaned back in his chair and watched his Bank's assistant manager from between his generous gray mutton-chop sideburns. "We here at this financial institution feel that you are the most trustworthy of all applicants for the position. We have looked through your ledgers and have never found even one mistake you could be penalized for. You arrive to work on time and are never tardy, and you have dedicated your life to your profession here, George, and have made the board members and myself proud to call you family. You have earned our trust and respect, George. Therefore, because of your spotless record of service, you will indeed get this promotion and be rewarded, for there is simply not a man finer for the job. Congratulations!" Sir Edward stood and extended his hand, and George rose just quickly and shook it, giving his sincerest thanks.

"How is your wife, Mary, George? I heard it around the workplace that she was very ill recently. I hope she has improved her health over the holiday." Sir Edward clapped George firmly on the back and walked him from his office.

"She is doing better, thank you for asking," George replied very uncomfortably. Her health had improved, but nothing damaged in their marriage had yet to be repaired. She still held her tongue around him, and he still slept on the floor in Grandpa Joe's room. His hopes for reconciliation over Christmas were dashed when Mary moved all his clothes and personal belongings to the hall closet even after she received the most gifts of any of the children totaled and then multiplied by two from him.

"Well, my wife and I are hosting a Valentine's Day affair at our home and we would love for you and Mary to attend." It was a direct order from the President of the Bank, and George had to accept. After all, he was just promoted to bank manager under, the recommendation of Sir Edward.

He mumbled something about "I hope my wife will be well enough," and Sir Edward assured him a woman as lovely as Mary Darling couldn't possibly remain ill and miss the lavish party planned for the associates and their wives. "You wife will not want to miss it for the world, George! And you inform her, lovely lady that she is, that I shall look forward to the first dance."

George was not a gambling man, but he would bet his life savings that Mary would very likely refuse to leave the house, let alone go to Sir Edward's ball. Rumors of Mr. Darling and his French lady friend of loose morals had had died down, now quite passé. The sniggers and snickers of the neighbors, watching through their windows at the nightly pleading George made to Mary in the kitchen, continued. George would kneel at Mary's feet and clutch at her waist, like a child wanting to be picked up and cuddled by a parent. She would stand expressionless, and wait for his crying to end before forcibly removing his arms from around her and pushing past him to go to her room.

The children no longer watched from the top of the stairs, hearing their father beseech their mother for her forgiveness. Only once did she ever respond, saying, "How can I ever forgive you, no matter what the reason? I will stay here and be your wife in name only. Our vows are broken as well as my heart. Leave me alone, George, I can't stand to have you touch me."

Even so, he tried to win back her trust, the trust Sir Edward Quiller Couch gave so freely to him as undeserving of it as he felt he was. Grandpa Joe tried on George's behalf, but fared no better. "You knew and did nothing to stop it, not even for me," his daughter reminded him. "Aunt Millicent was right and you should take her advice. Sit back and watch all the needless suffering you created." Grandpa Joe had his own reasons, whatever they might have been, and left it at that.

The house, once filled with laughter and song, music and storytelling, was now shadowed in darkness, leaving its inhabitants with nothing more to do but go about their daily lives until death parted them. Mary did her chores, cleaning the house and cooking the meals, still serving George first. George worked in the bank and came straight home hoping to prove to his wife, she was once again the only one in his heart and on his mind.

"Why don't you tell my husband, Father, that if he desperate to bestow his favor on someone, I hear his whore is back from Paris visiting a friend she made while she was in London."

Grandpa Joe spit out his tea while reading the paper, "How do you know that?" he demanded.

Mary spun about on her heal, and glared at her father, "Peter told me," was all she said and it was left at that.

Grandpa Joe told George, more as a warning then a recommendation, and George spent the week that Vivian was in London snug in his own home, attached to his wife's skirts. The children prayed for their parents, and both George and Mary prayed for each other. But as many prayers were offered, God didn't seem to be listening, for nothing changed, and the Lord's silence seemed to spell an end for the Darling family.

But if that were true, then there would be no happy endings, and every story worth telling deserves a happy ending. As Captain Hook had once told Mary, "God keeps you in the corner of his eye," knowing Mary and George needed more than the corner of his eye, He presented them now with His full attention. God cast his glance down, and commanded an adjustment be made to help them along.

This day, a year and a day from the time this agony began, George walked home and entered his house at exactly ten past the hour of six. He removed his coat and hat and headed to the basement. He removed two suitcases and brought them up the stairs, bumping into his wife as he made his way to the second floor, "Very sorry, Mary," he mumbled, as he had caused her to spill her peas.

George laid his suitcases out on the bed, and began packing all his belongings inside. Wendy was heading down to the supper table, dressed for dinner and watched her father with much curiosity. John came out of his room, followed by Michael, and they stood arm to arm at the top of the landing with wonderment and trepidation at their father's task. He folded his pants, shirts, ties and suit jackets neatly in one bag, covering his handiwork with his flattened sweaters. The other suitcase he packed his pajamas, shoes, ties and personal effects. He took two towels from the linen closet and his bathrobe, pausing, scrunching his face with his hand to his chin thinking of anything else he needed to take with him wherever it was he was going.

"Going away, Father..." Wendy questioned.

"Yes Father, going away?" John repeated.

George didn't answer, only fastening the latches and lifting the bags now filled to overflowing to the floor.

Dinner was on the table and so Mary called up the stairs. The children did not respond for they were lost in thought, and George would not be eating in the house anymore this night or any other. Mary walked up the stairs and moved her sons out of the way when no one came down.

"What are you doing, George?" She finally spoke to her husband.

George started packing once more, remembering he needed socks and handkerchiefs, he responded. "I'm leaving, Mary."

Mary entered into his room with a quizzical expression and put her hand on his shoulder as he sealed the last luggage bag shut again. "Where are you going, George?" Mary held her face to him, wanting to ask of his lover, but the children were there so she questioned only with her eyes.

"I'm moving in with my brother Harold, Mary. Harold has recently returned to London and has now retired. He's a bachelor who never married, and he lives alone in a small two bedroom flat only a few blocks from the bank. I told him of my sins and he said I could move in with him, for he needs the company. I will send you support for the home and children every week, and I will continue to pay all the expenses. I'll leave the address where I can be reached on the front table." George leaned in to give Mary a kiss and then thought better of it, but so close to her ear he whispered, "I told you I would never see her again, and I swear on all that I have left in this world, I never will. I'm leaving to give you peace in heart and mind. All I ask is that you don't divorce me. Good-bye, Mary." George looked at Mary who stared straight ahead without blinking and then pecked his wife of nineteen years on the cheek. He also pecked Wendy's cheek and shook the hands of his sons as if he were going off to war. Mary stood frozen, and stared at the bed of blankets he slept upon nightly still laid out on the floor as he descended the stairs and headed out the door.

The children were stunned, just as Grandpa Joe was, to see him go, and did nothing more than race to front window to see their father hail a cab and ride away. "You are just going to let him leave, Mary Elizabeth? I would think it easier to keep an eye on him if he were living in his own house. Who knows what he can get away with, away from your eyes," Grandpa Joe offered as Mary watched John read the note George left expecting some sort of detailed explanation, but found nothing more than a street address.

"The first part of forgiving him, Mother, is learning to trust him again," Wendy whispered to her mother as she stepped out onto the front porch. "He said he wouldn't do anything else to betray you, let him go and let him prove it. You'll never trust him again if he hides under your thumb."

The next day at work, George gritted his teeth and approached Sir Edward, graciously declining the invitation for Mary; "My wife has thrown me out of the house for committing adultery, so I will attend by myself."

Sir Edward nodded his head and eased his new bank manager's woes, "Happens to all men at one time or another."

George was out of the house a whole week without Mary or his children hearing one word from him.

Finally, at Sunday service in church, Mary met a gentleman dressed rather shabbily for mass as she was leaving, "Hello Mary, you probably don't remember me, for it's been years."

The man extended his hand, and Mary, being a lady not recalling his acquaintance, replied, "its Mrs. George Darling, sir."

The man chuckled and nodded his head, "Happy to hear that, I'm Harry, George's brother."

Mary's eyes went wide, and she stepped back quickly, flabbergasted by his appearance, "Oh my goodness, Harold, it's been twenty years. You look so different." She tried not to sound rude, and he didn't take it as a discourtesy, as he was a very changed man. Once a very long time ago, he and George could have passed for fraternal twins -- they were only ten months apart in age. He was as tall and slender as George, only slightly less handsome in his youth, without the need for spectacles, and it was his brilliant and charismatic personality that made every other difference between the two brothers clear. But now, in the back of the church, still as tall, he looked, "so different," as Mary again repeated.

"Drink will do that to you, Mary," Harry nodded as he offered her his arm.

She accepted and he walked her home. "I was surprised to hear you were still a bachelor. I remember George telling me stories of you and your, well, lady friends in your youth."

Harry again chuckled and tapped Mary's arm as he repeated, "Drink will do that to you, Mary."

Harold Darling had once been a very successful doctor with an excellent bedside manner and trustworthy reputation. His profession took him out of London and far away to better things a short time after George and Mary married. They never heard from him, his name coming up only once in Paris when Peter remarked, "Harry's a boozer, haven't seen him sober and in his senses since before mother died." Most would consider him a drunk, and Mary thought it true, for so early in the morning, he already reeked of liquor through his skin and clothes.

But he still had that wonderful way about him, and Mary chatted with Harry on their walk home, retelling her side of the story as he listened. Randomly he would interject his thoughts on certain matters, matters that Mary shared openly, for she needed to tell someone, to free herself of the secrets. Harry shook his head, responding, "I suspected as much, as soon as George told me, and this how he told me, Mary, plain as day at his desk at work when I came to see him, 'I committed adultery, Harry, and I am to rot in hell.'" Harry did a very good George impression, complete with sitting back straight up with good posture.

"'Peter,' I said to him, 'how could you ever trust Peter?' and he told me yes, it was Peter and that girl was his niece. I was so angry with George, and then he told me of Paris and I was even more angry," Harry finished lowering his head as Mary reached the front steps. "You know, Mary, when we were growing up, Peter...Well there was just something about him...almost like he has the--"

"--The devil in him," Mary completed his sentence, and Harry nodded.

"He is the devil, Mary, when she was staying with me, my mother even told me... anyway, it's not important. What I wanted to tell you is George does nothing but go to work and return home at night. He sits in the parlor with me on the edge of his seat with his hands folded and waits."

Mary asked about what he was waiting for, and Harold responded, "Waits for his family to visit. That's what he says. He's sure any moment the children will come by to check on him. He says he knows you're not coming, but he prays you will. Poor bastard never lived by himself before, I think he's even coming down with a cold."

Mary gasped at the information and put her hand to her mouth, Harry was a doctor, and if he said a cold, it was a cold. "Does he feel warm to the touch, Harold?" Mary's disposition changed in a heartbeat, which took Harry aback, she was only obstinate and unyielding in her resentment towards George and his acts against her and her family a moment before, now she seemed oddly panicked and full of worry.

"No, Mary, he's not warm, just a mild cough and some sneezing."

Mary moved her hand from her mouth to her head, "Sneezing, he's sneezing? And you said cough? Does he wear his slippers? You know, Harold, I always have to tell him to wear his slippers." She nodded her head to Harry who tilted his up now with raised brow; Mary's concern gave for George gave him the opening for his younger brother he was hoping for.

"Oh, I don't think he remembered his slippers, Mary. There are many other things I think he needs that he has left home, his slippers, and socks, and even a warm blanket. We share the only one we have, he'll use it one night, and I'll use it the next."

It was a bit overdone, but it sent Mary up the front steps to the house only to come back down, "Does he have..." She held her face still and gave Harry the once over. Harry, seeing her expression, nearly sighed with disappointment, for he thought at that moment, Mary saw right through him.

Thankfully, he was mistaken for in her mind she was only running down a list of things George would need to keep his cold at bay. "Never mind, Harry, I will send Wendy over to your flat today to bring him his things." Mary kissed Harry on his cheek lightly and whispered, "Thank you, Harry," before taking off into the house calling, "Wendy, come quickly...!"

Mary sent her eldest child Wendy to visit George first, that very day, and she took along socks, a warm coat, blankets and towels from her mother. "Mother said you should still drop your laundry by for her, as the expense of playing a launderer will be a waste of money. She told me to tell you to wear your coat to work every day, and to change your socks when you come home, even if they're not wet. Oh yes, and don't walk around barefoot, here are your slippers. She also wanted me to check the cabinets to make sure you had enough food to eat."

George watched as Wendy scavenged about the kitchen, Harry nodding his head to his brother who was pleasantly surprised to have his first visitor in exile. "What are you doing, Wendy?" George asked, for his daughter had pen in hand was writing a detailed list of all the contents of the cupboard.

"Mother says she wants a list, that way she will now what to buy for you and Uncle Harry when she's at the market."

John came by the next day and dropped off two baskets full of food that Mary had prepared for George and his brother, Michael and Grandpa Joe following in behind with a load of groceries and packages from the butcher, the baker and candlestick maker. "Mother said she was worried because she was sure you are not eating properly. There is a week's worth of lunches in one basket, and a week's worth of breakfasts in the other. She said you shouldn't eat out a lot because of the expense. Here's a copy of her cookbook, she wrote it out herself with some simple recipes for you to try. I had to pry it from her hands because she was worried you would burn yourself on the oven or the stove. And she wants me to remind you to eat fresh fruit with your afternoon tea. She told me to tell you that you are to come to dinner whenever you want, but to tell you that you must come to dinner on Sunday with no exceptions," John recited the second he walked in the door.

Grandpa Joe's imparted message came next, "Candles, George, loads of them. Wendy told her the parlor was dimly lit, and Mary Elizabeth is afraid you'll go blind straining your eyes while you balance your ledgers at night. Here are the receipts for everything, she checked them herself, and then she made John check them and me check them as well, but she said you are to check them also. Oh yes, George, you are to come to dinner on Sunday, no excuses."

Michael stopped by on Friday to drop off a lamp for George, "Mother is afraid you'll forget the candle at your desk is lit and there will be a fire." He was also to make sure George was coming to dinner on Saturday. When George corrected his son with, "Your mother said Sunday," Michael replied, "She wants you there for Saturday and Sunday. And she told me to remind you to come by during the week; too, because you haven't yet, and she's very worried you aren't eating. I am also to ask after your cough."

George didn't have a cough, so with that settled, he offered Michael something to drink because he was thirsty from the long walk, but aside from water, they had nothing else in the flat.

An hour after Michael left, he returned, this time in a cab. He brought to his father two carafes of fresh milk, freshly made lemonade, tea bags, a teapot, sugar, honey and lemons. "Mother was furious that Wendy did not tell her you had nothing to drink when she took the inventory. She says you should drink your tea every day, and with lemon and honey if you are not feeling well. She was not sure what your brother enjoyed, but she said if you let her know she will send that by as well. She told me to tell you that he should not be drinking liquor anymore, now that he is family, so you are to give me all the bottles from the flat to curb his temptation. She also wants you to keep him from the pub --no, wait a minute, she said if he is a rowdy drunk you'll get injured. That's right, she said she would deal with that matter herself. She also wanted me to gather your laundry and ask you if you need any errands run, because after working all week you will need your rest."

In the morning, all three Darling children arrived with fresh biscuits, eggs, bacon and a breakfast casserole, George's favorite. "Mother said she is sure you are not eating right and she doesn't like the idea of you eating all your meals alone." They also brought along sheets, blankets, pillows and an afghan Mary had crocheted in the weeks George was gone. "Mother wants me to change your bed linens, because she says it is cold and she doesn't want you to get a chill when you are sleeping. She told me to feel your forehead for a fever and look at your tongue. What am I looking for?" Wendy asked George as he sat enjoying his casserole. The children showed the same bewildered expression as George. As they departed, they reminded their father, "Mother says she will expect you for supper at four. She also extends the invitation to your brother."

The children arrived home later, and Mary asked, "Did you do the washing up from breakfast?"

Wendy shook her head, "Father did them," baffled at her mother's relentless distress over her cheating husband's living arrangements.

"When you dine with your father in your uncle's home, you are to wash the dishes, Wendy. Well, is the place cleaned properly at least?"

Not sure what her mother meant by cleaned properly she replied, "The kitchen floor needed to be scrubbed and the parlor was very dusty. There is only a bed and a dresser in his room. The floor in there needed to be polished."

Mary jerked her head up, "There was no rug?" Wendy shook her head that there in fact wasn't. John and Michael were dispatched back to their father with a rug for his bedroom only moments later.

"Mother said to wear your slippers and robe when you are home. She said you will get sick if you put your bare feet on the cold floor in the morning so she wants us to set this down in your room. She also wants me to dust the parlor, for mother says that is cause of your cough." Michael held in his hand a feather duster in a manner that he showed he knew nothing about dusting.

"We'll just tell your mother we dusted," George offered, taking the feather duster and setting it down on the coffee table, "Why don't you boys go out and enjoy the day, no need to be stuck inside this old flat with your father."

Both Michael and John had firmly replied, "No, Father, Mother said when we are finished, we are to bring you to supper so you don't have to travel alone."

George and his brother came for dinner on Saturday and Sunday. Mary served George his supper first and allowed his peck on the cheek and planted one of her own on his when he left after dessert. "Next week you will plan to stay later, as Wendy has become quite gifted on the piano," Mary demanded, and George, happy to have any words from his wife, smiled and accepted.

For two weeks, Mary sent food and did George's laundry. Every day she made one of her children go to see their father, and stay with him in the evening. They were waiting on the porch for him as he arrived home from the bank, carrying with them a basket with their supper. "Mother wants to make sure you have a proper dinner and are not lonely," they told him.

They would eat with George, and then keep him company until nine. "Father, please just come to dinner at the house. Mother will send us to spend time with you no matter what."

George shook his head, "I know, she's afraid I will run off on her again with another. But I won't, I never will again, not as long as I live. I'm not that man; I know I'm not. As I look back I can't believe that I even did all those awful things. It's like reading your life story in a novel, and thinking to yourself, 'No, it's not supposed to happen that way, what happened to the happily-ever-after that was to come?'"

This evening, it was Wendy that had come to visit and spend the evening. George sat at the kitchen table and wept, while Wendy did the washing up. "I don't think Mother is worried about another affair, Father. She sends us because she's so very lonesome with you gone. And I think she has the same fears as you. She wants a happily-ever-after as well." Wendy finished and sat down beside her father, touching his hands. "Please come to supper at home, please spend time with Mother. Talk to her, tell her how you feel, hearing it from you will be so much better than hearing it from us."

And so George did come to supper. At the bank one wet morning, he asked Grandpa Joe if it was all right if he stopped over for dinner, "I don't know, George, I'll have to ask Mary, maybe tomorrow, I'll let you know."

Just like the children, Mary made her father go back to the bank in a torrential rainstorm and tell George he was always welcome in his own house. "Just between you and me, George, she was quite pleased that you were coming, for as soon as I told her, she began making your favorite foods. She rebuked me for saying I had to ask permission, and told me to apologize for being rude. She also told me to suggest -- not from her, although she said it, but from me -- that you should stop by in the mornings as well, for breakfast, before you leave for the bank. She's ready now, George, talk to her."

From that night on, George came for supper every evening, and was made to stay until much later. "You're not leaving already? Have another cup of tea." He drank so much tea he felt as though he spent more time in the bathroom than he did in the parlor. When it was time for him to go, Mary would say, "Take a cab, it's too cold to walk, and wear your hat. I packed your lunch for tomorrow, and I pressed you a clean shirt. Don't forget I'm sending Wendy over in the morning to gather your laundry, and she'll bring you your breakfast. John will take your clean clothes back to your brother's flat in the afternoon. Let me feel your forehead before you go, now stick out your tongue. Are you wearing your slippers at night like I told you? You feel a little warm; are you sure your not getting a cold? The flu is going around, you must be extra careful. Make sure you sleep with the afghan over your blanket at night. Is there a draft in your room? Make sure to close the window when you sleep. If the cold gets in thru the windows you must fold a towel on the bottom of the sill. If you get a fever, send for one of the children, no, on second thought, send for me at once."

One should not think that George was unable take care for himself; he would have done quite well without Mary's aid. He did eat properly, always wore his hat, and slept with the window closed. He was not warm to the touch and never got a cold. Truth be told, he didn't mind her mothering; for it gave him the attention he had sorely missed from her for so very long. Long before his affair, from the time after the children returned from Neverland, it seemed Mary often forgot he was there when the children were around, not intentionally, but the feeling was there just the same. The only time they would spend together were the few stolen moments before they retired. Now George was the center of attention in her home again.

The first time he came for supper, he rang the bell. "George why did you ring the bell? This door is always open, and this is your house," Mary told him with a smile. After that whenever he would come in, Mary would yell, "Children, come quickly, your father is home!"

A turnabout was bound to happen between them, and it came when John visited on a Saturday morning to go over his choice of university. A large creepy-crawly thing scampered out from under the sofa and over the papers George and John reviewed. George, accustomed to seeing the insects around, smashed it with his shoe without missing a beat. Aunt Millicent was the only pest ever found in the Darling home so when Mary was told of the infestation, she threw on her coat and was at George's door in a flash. She burst in and stalked about the apartment looking under furniture and opening and closing cabinets and closets. She nearly fainted when she turned on the light in their washroom and heard thousands of tiny feet scurrying over the tiles to hide.

"George," Mary gasped, "Is your brother aware of all these bugs?"

George could only shake his head, so he did, and then lowered it, "He's never home Mary. He lives at the pub." Well, Mary would not allow her family to live in that filth, nor would she allow her brother-in-law to drink himself to death.

"I will be back tomorrow to clean this flat from top to bottom. You and Harold had best be coming to dinner tonight, as you cannot eat here." She couldn't wait until the next day, and so, the moment she arrived home, she began packing her cleaning supplies. Mary returned later in the same morning in a cab, and brought with her fresh juice and muffins for lunch, and plates from their home. "I sent John and Wendy to retrieve your brother from the tavern! You will not eat anything off your brother's dishes until I have cleaned this kitchen entirely. I'll start in here first, then I'll work in the parlor."

She worked all afternoon as George tried to help, "No, George, this is woman's work, you just sit and rest. It's been a long week at the bank, I'm sure. Why don't you tell me about it while I tidy?" Scrubbed on her hands and knees was more like it. But she only cleaned the kitchen. When she wiped the first layer of grime from the floor and found a pattern of daisy on the tiles below, covered in an inch of gray muck, she packed his bags herself and demanded, "My husband will not stay another moment in this dump. George, you are coming home."

Harold was already inebriated from hours of drinking and was being helped into the his flat from the pub by John and Wendy. Mary smiled and thanked him for putting George up while they were separated and then apologized for calling his home a dump. She offered him the name of an excellent charwoman, then went on to propose he take a room in their home when their eldest son started University in the fall. "John is to graduate from school a year early. We can put Grandpa Joe in with Michael and you can take the spare room," she declared proudly as she, with renewed energy, lugged George's suitcase down a flight of stairs to the street below.

George followed after his wife with his hands full. Harold grabbed his youngest brother by the arm and drunk as a skunk quite frankly told him with slurred words, "Don't let go of that woman ever, do you understand? Make her love you again George, you'd be a fool to do anything else!"

George took a few steps down and Harold stopped him again, "George, stay away from Peter. I saw him just the other day, he asked about you, wanting to call here. George, I lied and said Mary took you back in already, he was pretty angry. Actually, he was so furious, I think he might have broken the arm of the woman he was with, yanking her into a cab and speeding off. Keep him away from your wife, and stay away from him yourself."

With his sentiment complete, Harold released George to a new beginning with Mary, and was all but carried to his flat by John and Wendy. "Make sure he gets to bed. Stay with Uncle Harry, Wendy, until he falls asleep. He's sure to pass out any minute from the liquor." George instructed, and Wendy, his loyal daughter, smiled.