Many apologies for being away for so long. We're caring for a relative in hospice and no doubt, I'll be in and out for awhile. Not looking for sympathy or anything, just explaining why I'll be a bit erratic. But this story has been pestering me and kind of writing itself in my head, so I've stolen a few minutes to type up a chapter. I do hope everyone is well. I'm dreadfully behind in my reading and even when I've had a moment or two to check in on a story, I've failed to leave comments. Sorry, but I'm usually checking in on my phone and chewing up my data usage. But it is comforting to know that the Andith ship is still sailing. BTW, who's excited about the movie in the Fall?
For now though, happy reading!
Anthony hurried back to his room, his mind in turmoil. It had been the loveliest of times, his walk with Edith. But it had also been some of his worst moments. The kisses had been magnificent, taking him far outside and away from the despair that seemed to haunt him each day. But what came after, that was worse than any torture he had faced at the hands of the Germans. He had collapsed into a fit of uncontrollable shaking, which was bad enough, but to have Edith there, witnessing his disgrace, consoling him even, had been horrific. She had told him not to blame himself and he didn't; he blamed the war. But still, he had been left weak and now, now he had exposed her to his debilitated state. His arm was bad enough but for her to see him so…. so pathetically feeble, was humiliating. How could he face her again?
But then he remembered what else she had said, that she would lie awake and relive his kisses, relish them even. How could she possibly say that? Why would she want to even think about the kisses of such an obviously pathetic, contemptible man? Pity, that was it, the answer to why. She pitied him and in her mind that somehow became a sort of attraction. That must be it. Well, he would put a stop to that. He didn't want pity from her, he supplied enough of that himself. And he wouldn't burden her with his dismal situation. No, she deserved far more than anything he had to offer.
Later that afternoon, Anthony was visited by Dr. Clarkson. Anthony saw his chance. "You must transfer me to another hospital," Anthony told him.
"But why? Are you not comfortable here? Do you feel we haven't looked after you properly?" The doctor thought he knew one plausible explanation but wanted to force Sir Anthony to speak of it.
"No… erm, yes, I mean…" Anthony began to pace. "Its just that… well, Lady Edith…. I erm, she and I …" He stopped and stared out of his window, spying the folly in the distance.
Clarkson stood patiently for a moment. Something must have happened on the walk earlier. They had been going towards the folly. Now Sir Anthony was staring in that direction with such a look of longing. "You and Lady Edith?" Clarkson asked.
"Yes," Anthony groaned as he turned to face the doctor. "I'm afraid I behaved rather ungentlemanly towards her this afternoon and I'm sure she would be more comfortable if I were to leave."
"That's odd; I just spoke with her a little while ago. She said nothing like that. She said you'd done quite well on your walk. But that you'd become upset and started shaking. Do you know what upset you, Sir Anthony?"
Anthony blinked. "She didn't tell you?"
"No. I gathered that she didn't understand why you were upset."
"I… well, I kissed her…. Several times, actually." He closed his eyes as the feelings of those kisses flowed through him in waves. Oddly, it somehow calmed him.
"She didn't seem upset about anything like that," Clarkson said. "In fact, she said she'd rather enjoyed the walk." He watched for Anthony's response.
Anthony glanced back out of the window. "She… she didn't tell you how ghastly the shaking became?"
"She said the shaking seemed to come over you quite suddenly and other than your clenched jaw, your expression was quite blank. Apparently, she held you while you suffered the worst of it? She also said it didn't last very long but that it was quite intense. She's seen it before, you know, with some of our other patients and most of the nurses have become quite adept at helping the men through it. Lady Edith must've learned from watching the nurses how to manage an episode. I'm relieved that you didn't have to suffer it alone. Is this the first time you've had such an episode?"
But Anthony was absorbing what the doctor had said. "You've had others that shake like that?"
Clarkson inhaled deeply. Did the man not know it was common among men who had been traumatized? "Yes, usually patients who have seen the worst, suffered some trauma even beyond their wounds, that display the behavior. I've observed that with time, the episodes fade." He watched as Anthony took in the full meaning of what he had said.
"But I don't remember anything," Anthony finally said. "I don't know if I suffered any such trauma."
"You most certainly did, Sir Anthony," Clarkson replied. "Your experience as a prisoner, which you do remember, would be enough to cause your reaction. But I took the liberty of requesting your file. You may not remember, but you were at some of the worst places and in some of the worst battles of the war. You've seen and been involved in much more than any other patient I've come across. It's no wonder your mind wants to forget."
Anthony had been gazing out of the window again but his whipped around at the doctor's words. "You… you think I have forgotten intentionally? The memory loss isn't a result of some injury?"
"Oh, you probably did suffer some sort of injury to your head that healed, a blow or perhaps you were near an explosion. I've seen several injuries from just being too near an explosion. But no, every doctor that has seen you believes that your memory loss is your mind protecting you from something. Eventually, as your mind is ready, most of your memory should return but I daresay that there are some things, events, that you will never recall. "
"But my life before the war…. I might regain that memory?" Anthony asked hopefully.
"Oh, I believe you will, in time. Your record indicates you've witnessed far most than a man should. Those things will probably remain hidden forever, or at least for a very long time. But other memories will eventually start to return."
Anthony frowned. "But if I can't recall those traumatic events, how can you be sure that the shaking episodes will stop?"
"Was today the first time you've had one?"
"No, it has happened several times. This is the first time anyone has been with me when it happened though."
Clarkson paused. How had it been missed at the other hospitals? "No one saw you having these episodes?"
"No," Anthony replied certainly.
Releasing a deep sigh, Dr. Clarkson nodded. "Well, please inform me whenever you have one. I can chart the episodes and we'll be able to tell when they begin to abate."
"Yes, alright. But you are sure they will eventually?"
"Eventually, yes."
Dr. Clarkson turned to leave, his mind still grappling with the idea that no one had witnessed the shaking episodes before now. But Sir Anthony stopped him. "Dr. Clarkson?"
The doctor turned to answer, "yes?"
"Lady Edith really didn't seem upset by my …. By the episode?" He couldn't look at the doctor as he asked, but he needed to know. He wasn't sure why he needed to know, but he did.
"She was upset, but not in the way most women would be, if that is what you are getting at. She was concerned for you but it didn't send her into a fit of vapors or such nonsense. And she wanted to know how she might help you through anymore episodes. "
Anthony was astonished. "She wants to help me through them?" His face showed his distress as Clarkson watched him. "No, I don't want her to…"
"Sir Anthony, if I may…. well, offer this. You will need help from time to time, even after you are released from here. And who better to be there to help you than someone who cares for you? And I am convinced Lady Edith cares for you, deeply."
Anthony shook his head, "No, she mustn't." Clarkson watched him patiently, waiting for the man to explain. "She is so young and… lovely… and… vibrant. I'm so much older and now… " his frustration began to mount, "now I have this useless arm and…And I can't remember a damned thing!" He bellowed.
It was a rare thing, Richard Clarkson knew, for Sir Anthony to yell like that. He mentally marked it as a sign of the man's vexation over his condition. "Well, there isn't much we can do for your arm, that's true," he said. "I expect at least some of your memory to return eventually. But even if it never comes back, does it really matter?" Sir Anthony looked at him incredulously. "Lady Edith cares for you, Sir Anthony, with or without your memory."
"Yes, but is it the man I was before that she cares for? She doesn't even know the man I am now; I don't know who I am now."
"Oh, I think the man you are now and the man you were before are much the same," Clarkson offered. "Obviously you have changed, you've been to war and suffered as a result. But the Sir Anthony Strallan from before the war is still with us."
Anthony's blue eyes glistened as he stared at the doctor. "I wish I knew that man," he replied flatly.
"Give yourself time. And I would add, give Lady Edith a chance."
"But I'm too old. Surely you can see that?"
"I'll tell you what I've seen. I've watched a young woman who has struggled to fit in, to find understanding, and therefore had become something of a wall flower become quite animated since you arrived. She had a sense of purpose with the men before, but now her step is lighter and she smiles more. I'll admit that I have been concerned with her fondness for you with your condition. But when she came to me earlier about your episode, my worries ceased. She was very collected, not the least hysterical. She was intent on finding a way to help you. And she wouldn't be put off; she demanded answers. And in all that, I saw the depth of her feelings for you and I can assure you that your age does not matter to her, nor does your arm. And your memory loss concerns her because it frustrates you. But she is unphased by it all. You are a lucky man, Sir Anthony. I wish all of our wounded soldiers could return to such devotion."
"Yes, yes… it is quite lucky for me. But what about her? IF I …. If we… well, it just wouldn't be fair to her. She deserves someone so much younger and….whole."
"Perhaps. But there aren't many young men returning whole. And as for fairness, nothing is fair in this. You coming back wounded isn't fair. The men downstairs, some who've lost limbs or their eyesight is damaged or they've been burned beyond recognition… the list goes on and on; none of that is fair. I believe the best we can do is take what we are given and make the most of it. For you, it might mean accepting the devotion of a determined young woman, whether you believe you are deserving or not. And for her, it might mean having the devotion of an older, wounded man who adores her and will take the time to understand and support her."
"But she would be widowed so young," Anthony lamented.
Clarkson chuckled. "Well, I didn't know we had progressed to marriage just yet. But if you were to marry, I will remind you that both your parents lived quite long, active lives. I see no reason why you wouldn't do so as well."
"They did?" Anthony asked, his surprise apparent.
"Yes, they did. Your father was well into his eighties and your other almost lived to be one hundred. I would think you have at least another thirty or forty years ahead of you. You can spend those years tottering around at Locksley alone or you can spend them in the company of someone who will dote on you. I have no experience myself, but I have often thought that people live longer when they have someone with them." Clarkson finished and exited quickly, leaving Anthony with much to consider.
