My Darling Love

Chapter 38 – Death Becomes Her

"When the action was over and they were returning with joy, they recognized Nicanor, lying dead, in full armor."

-II Maccabees, chapter 25 verse 28

Mary's energy surge that had kicked into high gear with her husband imprisoned now subsided, leaving her exhausted, too tired to get out of bed. She got out anyway, and went through her day as best she could, only resting when the room began to spin around her. The color gained in George's cheeks, and the flesh and muscle that returned to his body seemed to come from his wife, as she spent all the time he was home and bedridden at his disposal. Mary never got a chance to sit for even a moment, for George asked her for all sorts of favors, "I'm parched, dear. Would you make me some tea?" She went immediately down the stairs and brewed tea, and brought it back up to make sure it arrived to him fresh from the teapot. "Oh, you didn't put any lemon in it, you know I like lemon in my tea." Back down the stairs to get a lemon wedge and back up. "On second thought, I think milk and sugar would be better, I'll need another cup." When she brought milk and sugar already prepared to his normal preference, he decided, "I meant to say honey not sugar, and no milk." It went on like this for every one of George's needs.

"Mary, sit down and rest while George is napping." Grandpa Joe would offer his chair to her.

"No, there are so many things that I need to get done. I don't have the time, Father. I have a house to run and children to care for, and food to cook, and shopping to do and errands to run. Which reminds me of the laundry, if I don't get started, we'll have no clean clothes. I still have to clean the kitchen, and I promised Wendy to fix her dress..." She had a full schedule and devoted endless amounts of time to her husband.

In contrast, George had been in nearly the same position when Mary was sick after her surgery from Michael's birth, with one some significant differences. He was working full time at the bank, and spent a greater part of the day sitting at a desk. True, he worked, but not at full speed ahead like Mary was now. When he sat with her at the hospital, or back at home, he got the chance to sit. Mary was on her feet, moving about and racing up and down the stairs, to the store, to the backyard and countless other places. He had also been able to sleep at night -- if only for a few hours, and napped on the weekends. Mary never slept at night; for that was the only time she could clean and do laundry without interruption. And all those around her who needed her to do something constantly disturbed her naps.

But the most substantial difference was that George always accepted help when it was offered, and Mary preferred to do everything herself. George welcomed the multitude of people who came and sat with the children, while Aunt Millicent anonymously sent her maid to help clean the house. Uncle Peter, disguised as a comrade, had played with the children and helped run errands. Mary's constant repetition of "Never mind, I'll do it myself," and "No, let me get that," were heard repeatedly.

George awoke one morning refreshed and revitalized, and decided this was the day he would reward his wife for all her loyal service. Mary never wanted to think of making love as a duty, but as George groped at her breasts and licked her ear, she took a deep breath, and "took one for the team" of womankind. Mary did look pale and drawn by this point; she had dark circles under the eyes. But poor George just couldn't see it hidden behind of mask of makeup she was never seen without.

She was done in and bone-tired. Of all mornings, this was the only one where she would have been able to get some much-needed sleep, with the boys gone to school, Wendy at Aunt Millicent's to help Margaret with the baby, and Grandpa Joe out for the day with a friend. Instead, she gathered whatever she had left inside that made her heart beat and brain function to keep her eyes open so she would not fall asleep with them closed, and give her husband the performance of her life -- that she was enjoying the rutting George was engaging her in.

Hoping it would be over quickly, that and once would be enough, she was denied on both counts, for he had just as much stamina as he had desire for her. Into the afternoon his pleasure took him again, and when he was finished he rolled over, falling into a light snooze. Mary was delighted, hoping to do the same, until he made the request, "I'm famished Mary. Do you mind making an early supper?"

Mary minded, but said nothing. She was still plagued with thoughts of guilt regarding her neglect. She remembered his unhappiness when she ignored his feelings, disregard which had led to his adultery. She remembered how she'd put them all in harm's way, and this day she made herself get up from the bed and go to the kitchen.

When she returned to their bedroom, George inquired after dinner. When she told him it would be a simple affair, he complained, "But I'm starving, and leftover casserole will not do." So she made his favorite dinner, with all the extras, and ironed him a fresh shirt, washed the dog, and dusted the house from top to bottom, for as long as she moved, the blood in her body kept pumping.

The family gathered at the table and dug into the delicious cuisine it took her all afternoon to make, and took only the ten minutes to finish the meal, "That was delicious. What's for dessert?"

Aunt Millicent had brought her daughter Margaret and her granddaughter, Martine. "I was thinking that, after the washing up, we could all go to see the ballet the local dance academy is having in the park. It's something about spring love or some such nonsense."

Aunt Millicent's suggestion and the excited reaction from the rest of those at the table made Mary get up, do the washing up, put on her coat and hat, and walk endless blocks at a hurried pace, so as to not miss a moment of the production.

She spent the entire evening chasing Martine, who was already old enough to have developed a stubborn and unruly personality. She stomped around and would not listen to anyone but Mary. Therefore Mary played "mommy", giving Margaret a break from the constant calling of motherhood. After the performance, she suggested they take a cab home. George scoffed at the expense, "Let us all walk and enjoy this lovely evening."

Mary waited until every single person who lived in her home was fast asleep before she even dreamed of going upstairs. She waited while scrubbing her kitchen floor as the house fell silent. Then she climbed to the second floor and ran the tub full of hot water. She disrobed and got in with the water still running; this being, she felt, the most tranquil sensation she had experienced in her life. The bath water slowly climbed to her neck, and she rested her head back on the porcelain and closed her eyes. Her muscles relaxed and soon she was in a deeply entranced slumber. Her body began to slide down slowly, and now essentially unconscious, depleted, and done for, Mary Elizabeth Baker Darling slipped further and deeper into the water, until not one inch of her beautiful face remained exposed in the cool night air.

George saw Mary standing at the back of the church with her father clutching to her arm as if he would never let her go, no matter what grew beneath her dress, hidden in white. He looked to his left and saw his eldest brother Peter staring down in the direction he had been only a moment before. George hadn't noticed it at the time, but both Peter and Harry were looking at Mary. Charles, a few years younger than the oldest brother, second behind Peter, held his mild grin of enjoyment at him. "Seems mommy's favorite boy will never be able to serve behind the altar, unless the bride is lying with her legs spread on it..." Charlie snickered to George as they stood by the altar.

"Charlie," George said in his sleep, a horrible man, deserving of his demise. Charlie died shortly after his mother had, a victim of the tuberculosis he contracted while caring for patients stricken with disease. George did not feel the least bit sorry for him when he heard of his brother's death. In George's eyes, Charlie was second only to Peter in wickedness. Charlie was a liar, a cheat and a thief, with everything in life. He never got to meet George's children, and the only good part of his early passing was that he never got to enjoy the result of Peter's betrayal of their youngest brother. Charlie had vowed "I will never speak to you again, as mother and father have forbidden me to, although they didn't have to. I wouldn't care if I never saw you again, George!"

In his will, Charlie left George his flat in London. It was more of a punishment than a sincere gesture of peace between two brothers, for the place was filthy. Charlie had left it in ruins. When Harry returned from the drunken stupor he'd spent the best part of his life in -- after accidentally killing one of his patients by treating him while intoxicated, or so the story goes -- George let him live there rent free. That turned out to be the only good thing Charlie had ever done in his life.

But none of that mattered, for it was his wedding day, and Mary was waiting to be his wife at the end of the aisle. George's recollection of her father dragging her down to the altar was different than Mary's. He saw Mr. Baker's frown as he walked side by side with his lovely daughter, who was to be "wasted," married to him. He sneered not only to George but also to the priest when asked, "Who gives Mary to this man to be wed?" And now his princess stood before him, so pretty and perfect that George could not wait to be pronounced husband and wife and receive the kiss. So he dipped in early and brushed his lips to hers, "Today, you make me the happiest man who ever lived."

George and Mary held each other's eyes for the whole ceremony, except for one single solitary moment when Mary looked beyond George and back. She smiled the complete expression of love and elation, but in that one moment, her smile faded, only to return as if it never left when she met George's crystal blue gaze again. He also wondered after that instant, what she was thinking. He believed it was a doubt, a question in her mind that came and went, that he was possibly not the one she should be marrying. George carried that moment with him in his subconscious since the day they wed. Because of all that had come to pass since that very special day, as he slept comfortably this night in his bed alone, he finally realized what she saw in that sobering glimpse.

His dream played out, unfolding as though he was standing at the altar, and he heard every word the priest spoke and waited for that split second to come. At the moment in which it occurred, "if there is any man who knows why these two should not be married let them step forward and speak now or forever hold their peace..." George, now on instinct alone, turned around and saw Peter standing behind him. It was not to the look on Peter's face that George cast his attention to, but Peter's foot, which moved forward, a subliminal message to Mary, who didn't see his foot, but saw his left eye, now winking flirtatiously at her.

George replayed that instant in his mind over and over again. There were times when he turned around through the whole ceremony and left Mary smiling at the back of his head, just so he could watch Peter. Peter gave no other indication of his intentions throughout the event, just the foot and his inappropriate wink to the bride.

And then there was Harry. George accidentally caught sight of his favorite brother, the only brother he was ever remotely close to; watching Mary the entire time the service was in progress. Others, even Peter, at one time or another looked about or glanced around, bored with the ceremony and vows. But not Harry, he held his gaze toward Mary with a simple smile, contented in her beauty. George waved his hand in front of his brother's face, trying to make him at least blink, but to no avail. Harry was lost in a dream, a dream where he was standing there in front of the priest, marrying his brother's wife. And when father Christopher pronounced Mary and himself, husband and wife, and introduced them to those gathered as, "Mr. and Mrs. George Darling," Harry finally closed his eyes and sighed in a melancholy disappointment, which George had found baffling at this time replayed in his memory.

Not wanting to desecrate the dream with his fears, he let it play out one time in full without disturbing one detail. It came to him so infrequently in his slumber that he wanted to relish the memory of Mary in white on that fateful day. As the priest pronounced them man and wife once again, Nana stood at the back of the dream church and began to bark.

Mary, who was but a memory, as was everyone else present but George, ignored her. Nana's incessant barking was ignored, causing her to run the up the aisle and crash into the new Mr. and Mrs. George Darling as their lips met. "Mary, Nana's barking..."

"Mary, did you hear me? The dog, she'll wake the whole house. You'd best get up, she probably needs to be walked." George opened his eyes and fixed his spectacles on his face. He looked over and saw Mary's side of the bed empty. He got up and opened the door to his bedroom. Instantly, Nana charged him and put her paws up on him. Still groggy, George muttered, "Be quiet, Nana, go to bed." But still she barked and began to howl in a high-pitched tone, which made a frustrated George yank her by the collar and drag her down the hall to the stairs. As they passed the bathroom, Nana broke free of him and began to jump up onto the door, trying to gain access. That was the moment George noticed his slippers were wet from the water that poured out from underneath the washroom door.

His first thought was that, in the morning, he would need to pay a plumber to come and fix a leaky sink. "All right Nana!" he yelled, as she continued to bark and now ran in circles as if insane. He went for the doorknob and found it locked. Someone was inside, and when he pounded on it and called for Mary to help him, neither the person who was running the water nor his wife responded. "GRANDPA JOE!" he yelled, or rather shrieked, and began throwing himself on the door to get in. Grandpa Joe leapt from his bed, as well as John and Michael, who all came running. "Mary..." George managed as Michael pushed his father out of the way, "Stand back" he commanded and kicked the door in.

In the washroom of the Darling house, submerged in water, Mary rested at the bottom of the tub. Tiny bubbles escaping from her nose floated lazily to the top as the faucet continued to pour out water. George lifted her up and out and laid her down on the cold tile floor. "She's not breathing!" he cried as he put his face to her nose and mouth. Wendy, hearing the door broken from its hinges, ran down the stairs from the attic and found her father clutching her naked, wet mother on the floor of the washroom. Her mother was a lady, and so was she, and she grabbed a large bath towel from the hall closet and covered her mother. "She'll be angry when she wakes up and finds out we all saw her naked." Wendy tried to make a joke to break the tension of the situation that lay lifeless on the tile floor.

Michael fled from the house in his pajamas and ran blocks away to get Uncle Harry. He broke down his door, too, with one swift kick and dragged him back to the house. Mary had stirred when George began to shake her, and she coughed and choked up water. Harry could not keep up with his young nephew, and when he stopped by a lamppost to catch his breath, Michael, taller than George and John, and built like a man made to go to war, hoisted him up and carried him all the way home. "Mother drowned in the tub," John reported as Harry entered on Michael's shoulder and was set down. He took to the stairs and into the hall where they had moved her.

George cradled her like a baby and was weeping, asking what to do. She stopped breathing again after hacking up the water and was unresponsive. Her lips were blue, and when Harry opened her eyelids, her eyes were rolled back into her head. "We must turn her on her side."

George set her down gently and Harry rolled her and began pounding on her back. She choked up more water, almost a quart, and then began to suck in air, struggling to perform the function the body does naturally. "Take her to the bed," Harry told them.

He moved to follow George, but Grandpa Joe stepped in front of him, "When was the last time you took to the bottle?"

Harry stood to his full height in his nightclothes that were dirty and full of holes and responded, "I haven't had a drink since Mary told me not drink anymore, because she won't have any drunks in her family." Grandpa Joe nodded and stepped aside.

Now came the hard part. John, Michael and Wendy stood outside their parents' room and waited. Muffled voices of George and Harry were heard, but not a sound from their mother.

The bell rang and Grandpa Joe, waiting in the parlor smoking his pipe, answered. "We have someone here on their deathbed, I'll come as soon as I can," he responded to whomever came unannounced in the middle of the night. "Mary Elizabeth." The answer to the question of whom. Then, "Whatever you tell them, don't tell them that." The door shut and the midnight caller was gone back into the night. At first dawn, the midnight caller again returned. This time Grandpa Joe informed them, "I will not leave this house until I have assurance of my only child's condition."

At dawn, Uncle Harry left George and Mary's bedroom, the look on his face made all the children break down. Hearing his grandchildren, Grandpa Joe slowly took step-by-step up only close enough to see Harry looking down at him. "Please. Please she's my baby, I held Mary Elizabeth when she was born, I watched my daughter grow up and have babies of her own. I've seen everything that's happened to my Mary Elizabeth in her life. But as her father, I'm not supposed to see her put in the ground. I can't see her put in the ground..." Grandpa Joe was not a man of tears or open emotion, but as the sun rose he fell and let all that he kept bottled up inside out. Uncle Harry embraced Grandpa Joe and told him, "George wants to speak with you Sir."

Important people are said to die in threes. The morning paper listed on the front page that Sir Edward Quiller Couch died the day before, Sunday – the Lord's day - while at home, oddly enough, reading the morning paper. His wife, overcome with grief and shock dropped dead as well. "That's horrible, George, when are the funerals?" George read down a little further in the article for the information, "Tomorrow at Westminster Abbey, by invitation only." He responded flipping through to check on other items not as news worthy. "Ah look, the stocks are up again."

George, being the bank manager on leave from his post, was invited, so with his brother Harry as escort, he went. Grandpa Joe returned home from Millicent's house that same day and came to the somber silence he left the morning Mary was found in the tub. As Grandpa Joe walked to the house, he decided his crying must cease, and once again he should be the strong one, at least in front of the children. Wendy sat at the piano, but would not play. John sat at his father's desk and balanced the accounts for the funeral of the third important person who was to be buried on Wednesday. Michael stood guard outside his parents' bedroom door, a soldier in mourning; he nodded to Grandpa Joe as he came up the stairs. He wanted to see Mary, but couldn't find the strength, so he went into his room and cried some more.

George came home and he, who had lived through everything, went to his wife and stayed there until late in the evening.

"Did you tell her about the funeral?"

"I didn't have the courage to tell her she passed in the night. She'll never forgive herself for not getting the chance to say good-bye."

Harry sat with Grandpa Joe in the parlor. The children held the same posts as George descended the stairs to answer the bell. His father-in-law rose and met him at the bottom. "Just let me see Mary Elizabeth before you make the arrangements with the undertaker," Grandpa Joe asked.

George nodded, eyes red, before greeting his old friend from the apartment of years ago who came calling. "George, long time no see, too bad its under such horrible circumstances, really sorry for your loss."

Grandpa Joe opened the door of Mary and George's bedroom. There on the bed lay Mary, dressed in her beautiful silk nightgown and robe. "You look like a queen lying there like that, all you need is a crown and glass slippers, Mary Elizabeth," he whispered.

He touched her face and held her hand. "Such soft skin, look, your nails grew back, you always keep them so pretty and long. No one would ever know you do all the housework with hands like these."

He gently unwrapped the silk scarf she had on her head and ran his fingers through her short hair. "I told you not to cut your hair, ladies should keep their hair long. I should have spanked you like a child when you came home that day."

He moved his fingertips lightly over her flawless face. "Rest well, my angel from heaven, rest well." Grandpa Joe left the room, closing the door softly and went straight for his room. Try as he might, the tears came again, and he asked not to be disturbed, leaving George to make the arrangements worthy of a lady of high regard.

Wednesday was the day of the funeral. George and his children dressed in black and took a carriage to the church. Grandpa Joe refused to go, and locked himself in his room until the family left. With them gone, he decided to say his own good-byes at the park, the last place he saw the dearly departed in her happiest times.

As the Darling family entered the church and filed forward to the front row nearest the elegant coffin that sat in the front, hundreds swarmed around them and offered their condolences. Margaret brought her baby Martine, who cried the entire time, wanting nothing more than to held by her grandmother, Aunt Millicent. Uncle Harry was also in attendance having borrowed one of George's suits, but remained in the back, afraid of God and his wrath. They followed the processional to the cemetery where the priest consecrated the ground and gave the signal for the casket to be lowered. George, a man of good nature and strength, held his family up as the coffin was lowered. When all was said and done, one of Aunt Millicent's closest friends commented, "Fret not, George, death is quite becoming on her."

For the first time, the Darling house was completely empty. It had once belonged to the Bakers and before that, the Smiths, but never in all its years since being constructed was there not at least one person there at all times. The lady of the house, Mary Elizabeth Baker Darling, knew in some bizarre way that she would die there. Even as a small child, when she lay in bed at night, in the room that she shared with George, as her last breath escaped her, the ceiling above would the last thing she would see. She was only a child then, and a woman now, and in her thoughts she saw George in her view -- or so she hoped. That night she was found in the bathtub confirmed the visions, for as she took in air that seemed to go no further than her mouth, before the light came to retrieve her, George was there, looking down with tear filled eyes, pleading to God in a mimed silence, the last thing she saw before the all-encompassing white.

There was now darkness and no sound. The quiet that enveloped her was broken when she heard the ticking of the clock that hung in upstairs hall. The wind blew and rattled the window and the back gate in the yard creaked open.

My Darling Love George,

I'm sorry I have been unable to speak with you sooner, but my parents have locked me in my bedroom and would not let me out or receive visitors. Penny informed me of my father threats, and although I am sure he is sincere, and the risk very grave, I must ask you to be as valiant as you were the day you saved me, for I need your courageous rescue once again.

It pains me to write this on a simple piece of stationery, for I have dreamed of this moment since the day I met you. I planned out every detail of when and how what I am about to pen would come to pass. I planned to tell you in the park on the bench where we first kissed, or over a delicious dinner I would have cooked especially for you in our very own home. And all for naught, for I will not even be the one who gets to hand deliver this note to you.

On the night we made love, or more accurately, the following morning, I conceived a child, our child. You must not worry over the expenses of our new addition or my condition. I have a funny little bump on my belly that has been showing me the first signs of life, growing within for some time now. This morning as I lay back on my bed and stretched, I felt a movement from the tiny baby letting me know that today is the day I should tell you. I'm praying for a baby girl that will have your blue eyes and kind heart. I am a little queasy, but I'm sure its nervousness, and nothing to be concerned with. I have not yet told my parents, as you are my husband in God's eyes, and I honor my vow to obey you and I await your good judgment and command.

With All of My Love,

Your devoted wife,

Mary Elizabeth

Penny,

Please go to the bank at one o'clock and give this to George on his lunch break. Have him read it and wait until he is finished. Make sure he doesn't faint, and assure him of my love, my health and that in no way am I angry with him. Ask him to pick a date for the wedding and as soon as he tells you, please let me know.

With Love,

Mary

"What date did you pick?" Wendy was reading over her father's shoulder, both their eyes still reddened. George had opened his dream drawer in his desk earlier in the morning, and now reread the letter as they sat in Aunt Millicent's parlor where refreshments were served after the funeral.

"I chose the last Saturday in November. I wanted to marry your mother in the spring or summer, but her best friend told me you would be ready to come by then."

Wendy took her mother's letter from her father, and ran her hand over her mother's penmanship, "Was she not worried that you would attempt to flee from your responsibilities?"

George turned full around to his only daughter, shocked by her question, then suddenly his face softened. "We never thought of you or your brothers as a responsibility to be dealt with. We looked at you as gifts from God that were to be cherished and appreciated. So no, your mother never had to worry that I would flee anywhere, for the only place I ever wanted to be was with her."

After the guests left, George walked through Millicent's house and took note of all her worldly belongings. It took all the wealth in the world to make her mildly happy, and even then, she dragged herself like it was an unpleasant chore to their home for supper every night. "In all the years I have been married to your mother, I have never dined here once, and she keeps four chefs on staff," George told John who came to retrieve his father, now lost in the house. "There are more rooms in this manor than one could shake a stick at, it looks like a museum of sorts. Amazing, that she lived here all these years and this house looks unlived in."

John nodded his agreement and added, "What a waste."

Grandpa Joe waited on the front porch for his family to return. They slowly walked up the street and up the steps. "How did it go?" Grandpa Joe asked George as he put his key in the lock and unbolted the front door.

"One of Millicent's many friends said death was quite becoming on her." The children entered first as George shook his head over how crude Millicent's friends could be. John and Michael took to the stairs to clean out the nursery, and Wendy went into the kitchen to sort through all the food that was sent from the neighbors, so that in their time of grief, no one would be required to cook a single meal.

George looked up the staircase with reservation, and took to the steps at a hurried pace. He met John and Michael carrying boxes to and from the nursery as he reached his bedroom door. "Best to get it over with." George raised his head with more of a question than an affirmation. He turned the knob and stepped inside quickly closing the door behind him. He looked to the bed, and closed his eyes before finding the courage to step further into the room. George went to Mary's vanity table and sat down, leaning his elbow on the glass and resting his chin on his hand.

"You look very funny sitting there like that."

It was dark in the room, for not one lamp was lit. George slowly turned, and there on the bed, where he had left her that morning, was Mary still dressed in her silk nightgown and robe. She sat up and stretched, and every part of her body ached from head to toe. She took a good long look at her husband, who now stared back with a blank expression, trying to hide a secret. Mary no longer cared for secrets, and knowing something was amiss, or worse dreadfully wrong, she asked, "George, what is it? The children? My father? It was so quiet in the house today, where was everyone?"

George stood and went to her on the bed and held her hands tightly. He gazed deeply into her eyes and gave her the only grin he could muster, "Mary, a few nights ago, your Aunt Millicent died."