Sorry for the delay as I have been busy writing and posting for Mr. Darcy's Ruthless Proposal, and then I was working on a new chapter for my Persuasion story, Tired of Waiting for You. At the moment I'm feeling discouraged about resuming that story as while I have gained followers, I have received zero reviews for the new chapter (but for one telling me, I believe incorrectly, that my content is above a "T" rating). I know that fanfiction of the other Austen stories have a much lower readership so that is not entirely unexpected, but it has still got me down.

I know that Persuasion isn't everyone's cup of tea, but I think it is my favorite Austen novel and well worth a read. For the movie I very much like the 1995 BBC version. If you haven't read and/or watched the movie, give it a try.

In other news, we finally got a diagnosis for my husband, and it isn't a good one. He has ankylosing spondylitis. He's been put on medication for it now, but it's tough to possibly face a lifetime of pain and since it is an inheritable, almost entirely male disease, now we have to worry that it will strike our boys, too.

Things have been better with our daughter and she just spent the weekend with us, but on the way back from getting her my husband hit a deer; he swerved but it still clipped the corner of our van bad, so now we are down another vehicle. At least we have good insurance.

Unfortunately our bad streak with car accidents does not seem to be at an end, as tonight I hit a dog. I couldn't swerve as there was someone approaching in the other direction and no shoulder, so there wasn't much I could. It was hurt, but it didn't seem badly hurt. Still, I feel awful about it.

Chapter 34

The next day was hardly better but my mood was aided by the communications I had read from Elizabeth the day before. After getting some few hours of sleep, I replied to her email, writing:

Dear Elizabeth,

Thank you for taking such effort in writing to me. I very much needed your kind words to give me strength during this difficult time. While I am happy to be your friend, in truth I want more. Yes, I would very much like to take you on a proper date. I have admired you for months, but you are right that the timing isn't the best.

We did have a kind of, almost date, you might recall. I like to think it was a date even though we ate our meal together in the car rather than the restaurant. But taking you out properly when I get back would be my pleasure.

Too much has happened with my sister G.G. to write it all down, and I'm sure there will be more developments today, too, but perhaps we can video call later? I'm really a wreck about it, because I just don't know where we go from here. If that sounds good, let me know what hours you are available and I'll convert to local time.

I hope things are going as well as they can for you and Jane, Charlotte, too. If Jane hasn't felt up to confiding in the whole family, I hope she at least confides in your sister Mary. From what I can tell about her, she'd be a great one to have in Jane's corner and would grasp the whole situation immediately. Heck, have Mary come stay with you all at my place, too, if you want. Lord knows there is plenty of room.

Bill

We had been directed to report back to the police station and there were more forms to fill out but we declined giving additional interviews or sign disclosure permission forms for our own records. Most of the time we just sat in the lobby, in chairs that had seen better days.

Mr. McCowan showed up at about eleven and directed us back to the room from before. He told us that the psychiatrist supervising G.G.'s care, and the office in charge of the investigation had approved us having a supervised visit with her. "But there are some ground rules with which you must abide: (1) Only one of you can visit with her at a time, and for only a half an hour each; (2) No physical contact that she does not initiate; (3) No arguing or talking about anything you think is likely to upset her, unless she brings it up; that includes what she was doing and with whom, and the pregnancy; and (4) No making promises about when she might get out or go home. We'll be observing the meeting through one way glass and won't hesitate to intervene and stop the visit if there are any problems. We want you to be reassured that she is okay, but we need to make sure she is protected. Then this afternoon we have arranged for you to talk with her treating psychiatrist about her condition and possible placement options."

"Fine by me," Rick responded, glancing over at me for my approval. I nodded and that was that.

About half an hour later we were following the social worker's car through a gated entrance, soon reaching a big mossy stone facility that looked half-castle and half-super villain lair. To say it was forbidding was an understatement, but it was stately too. Although it had it's fair share of windows, four stories worth, all the windows above the first floor were covered by heavy grates which I doubted would permit for escape in the event of a fire.

Rick and I had agreed between ourselves that I would go first, but while I was waiting for that, Mr. McCowan went to talk to G.G. He came back shaking his head. "Georgiana only wants to talk to Rick," he said, shaking his head. "She claims to be too scared of her brother."

I felt my mouth drop open. I could not have anticipated that. I wanted to rage and storm off. How dare she! I had come all this way, put my life on hold, just for her to dismiss me. But I knew I couldn't do any of that, not if I did not want to put wind in the sails of the horrible reports she had made about me.

"I'll try to get her to talk to you after," Rick offered, patting me sympathetically on the shoulder.

"You can watch their meeting with me," Mr. McCowan offered.

So it was that a couple of minutes later, I was behind the one way glass with a woman in a clipboard (Mr. McCowan had gone with Rick). The room was dark, but not pitch black. There was a sort of counter right up against the bottom of the glass and hard plastic chairs with metal legs that reminded me of school chairs under it. I was a little too big to sit comfortably at the counter, as my knees jutted up and would not fit, so I was obliged to sit back from it while the others were closer in. Our room was elevated some four feet up from the room we were observing, with the glass itself perhaps eight feet up.

The woman with the clipboard, whose badge read "Staff" and "Madge" in big letters, but in the dim light I didn't make much of an effort to read her last name or title. Madge leaned toward me and whispered "Have you been in here before?" I shook my head. "Well, as long as we speak quietly, they can't hear us, but the microphones in the visitation room pick up everything and it is all recorded at well." She gestured toward a darkened laptop on the far end of the counter that I hadn't noticed before, going over to it and waking the screen up.

"Thanks," I told Madge, turning back to peer into the visiting room. It was a plain room, beige walls, beige carpeting. In the center of the room and well framed within the image of the computer screen, too, was a round orange table with two of the same kind of chairs as I was sitting in, which were a dark blue. There was a plastic cupboard on the other side of the room, but otherwise the room was empty. A moment later G.G. walked in, accompanied by a woman staff member with short, dark hair. Out of the corner of my eye, I saw the Madge click the record button.

My eyes drank in G.G., absorbed every detail. She was wearing what looked like white scrubs with blue gripper socks. The scrubs hung on her, she was much too thin, and her hair was long and unkempt, although it appeared clean. She just sat in the chair, chewing on her nails, seemingly more bored than upset.

Rick entered the room cautiously and the staff member left, but not before instructing G.G., "Stay right here until I come back."

I heard the woman's voice come out above me, and looking around spotted some overhead speakers.

Once the woman left, G.G. burst from her chair and hugged Rick tight. He gave her a quick squeeze in return, and when she did not release him as he had her, he awkwardly patted her on the shoulder before gently pushing her away.

"Oh Rick, this place is awful. You've got to get me out of here. This has all been a horrible mistake. I was just partying with a couple of guys; that's all."

Rick reared back and retreated, seating himself on the other side of the round table from her. She took the remaining chair across from him and moved it next to his.

In our room, Mr. McCowan had just entered, and took a seat on the other side of me.

Rick glanced at us (or rather at the one way mirror, but with the knowledge that we were behind it). Then he looked back at G.G. and said "Okay," in the tone of voice that made it clear he was not really agreeing with her, but wondering what to do now. "You know, we've been really worried about you."

G.G. shrugged and tossed her hair as if that was no concern of hers. I felt astonishment, and also a little anger. "There's no need to worry, Rick," she declared. "I'm old enough to make my own decisions, my own choices, decide what will make me happy."

Rick considered, and I imagined that he was wondering what he could say without violating the ground rules Mr. McCowan had outlined. "You are still a minor and should be in school. Everyone at least needs to get their high school degree."

G.G. scoffed. "Yeah, right. I could pass my GED right now, no problem. School is a waste of time and I hated it at that place you dumped me at. It was practically a prison."

Rick handled her comment much better than I would have. "I thought you liked the horses and I know they had lots of fun activities."

G.G. considered. "The horses were pretty and riding was okay, but I needed my freedom."

"How'd you get out of there, anyway?" Rick asked.

G.G. crossed her arms and leaned back. "Wouldn't you like to know, so you can lock me up even tighter next time."

"All we were trying to do was to keep you safe," Rick responded calmly. "Safe from people you shouldn't be around, give you time to work out your issues and resolve things so that things could be better moving forward. We just wanted you to heal. That's all we wanted, me and your brother."

G.G. stood up and shouted while leaning toward him, "Yeah, that's really what you wanted. You wanted to cut me off from George, from the love of my life, so you could diddle me yourselves, fucking pervs."

Madge started taking notes furiously, while Mr. McCowan seemed riveted by the whole thing. I tried to put my companions in the observation room out of my mind and just focus on the horrible drama unfolding before me. I had a stray thought about the soap opera that my mother had liked to watch. I had always thought those storylines to be so overblown, but here was the real thing happening right before me, just a few feet away.

Again, Rick handled things so much better than I would have. He stayed seated and at least outwardly unaffected by her horrible words, while I felt myself trembling and started tapping my feet to try to deal with all the pent up extra energy I had just then.

Rick considered what G.G. said for a few moments, apparently gathering his thoughts. Then in a conversational voice he replied, "You know, G.G., it wasn't very mature of you to accuse us of hurting you, to lash out like that. It was really hurtful and mean. I don't know what George has been telling you, but just because he had designs on you since you were an innocent little girl, did horrible things to you for years, doesn't mean everyone else out there is a pervert, too."

"George isn't a pervert!" G.G. screeched. "He just loves me more than anyone else, always has, always will. Everyone always goes away but him. You were off playing soldier, are probably into guys, Bill was always busy at work, too in love with the company to care about anything else, while George was showing me how much he always thought about me. He's the only one who really cares and we're going to have a baby together." G.G. stuck out her tongue and pushed her stomach out, stroking the slight curve that was visible just below her bellybutton. I wasn't sure if she actually had a little bulge there or if it was just caused by her posture. "Yup, I'm having George's child and we will be together forever. I know my rights, eighteen and I'm gone."

If G.G. was trying to shock Rick, she did not succeed. I was very glad then that we'd been forewarned about her condition.

Rick considered again. "I'm hearing a lot of pain from you, G.G. I'm sorry if we weren't there the way you needed after your parents died. I was already in the army then and had my commitments. But even so, I could have made more of an effort and I regret not doing more.

"I'm sure that Bill did the best he could, but he did have a lot of responsibilities, too. He didn't have an easy road of it, not really having the time to properly mourn his parents, going from brother to parent and CEO all at the same time. Being a parent, a good parent, is hard work for anyone and he pretty much had to do it all on his own.

"Even if a couple is married, they have their finances in order and the baby planned, it is not easy, not at all. Running away from school, deliberately getting pregnant at sixteen, I just do not see how you are ready to take on the awesome responsibility of being a parent, think you can do better than Bill and I did."

"But I'll have George. He loves me so much, had to be with me no matter what. He will take care of everything." G.G. exclaimed her eyes focused up adoringly at nothing in particular, in a sort of hero worship for imagined visage of the man that wasn't there. It was frankly disgusting, caused a roiling in my stomach, made me worry about getting sick then and there. I did not understand how she could feel such affection for the man who had used and prostituted her.

Rick sadly shook his head. I imagine he wanted to tell G.G. many things that would have gone beyond the scope of what he was supposed to say. His lack of more reaction seemed to bother her, for G.G. walked around the table and stuck an accusing finger in Rick's face. Jabbing it at him she declared, "It is your fault that I'm in here away from him. Just give your permission for us to marry, and give me my trust fund money or I'll never speak to you again."

Rick gave a soft sigh that the microphones barely picked up, pushed back his chair and stood up. "I so much want good things for you, G.G., but this road you are on will never lead to true happiness. I will not be manipulated, will not play this game. I'm going to do what I think is best for you, even if you hate me for it. Goodbye, G.G., and good luck." He walked toward the door.

"How dare you!" G.G. shrieked and slapped Rick's face. The slap was very loud and must have hurt, but Rick barely paused before walking even quicker toward the door.

G.G. stood where she was and watched as he walked away. "You don't love me," she screamed, "and you never did."

Rick did not pause from walking away, and a moment later, he was outside the door and pulling it closed.

I thought G.G. would be done with her tantrum then, but she was not. She shoved the orange table against the wall with the one-way mirror, grabbed the nearest chair and put it on top of the table Then, quick and limber as a mountain goat, she scampered onto the table.

G.G. lifted the chair and slammed it against the glass, bam! The glass shivered but withstood one blow. We were backing away when she hit it again, this time with the legs of the chair. With this second blow it spiderwebbed and crumbled in at us (it was safety glass).

"Perverts, perverts, perverts all of you!" G.G. shouted as she saw us. Then she focused on me and started trying to climb through the hole. "I hate you, Bill! You should be in jail, not George." She reached out to me with her near hand in a claw-like pose as if she planned to scratch at me.

Someone must have pressed some kind of a panic button or something, because just then two burly men (orderlies, my mind supplied), rushed into the room, pulled her down off the table and to the floor, face down. She struggled and screamed like an animal as they pushed her down, one kneeling on her back. G.G. screamed even louder, but then paused her wails to spit at them, kicking until the other man restrained her legs. I was riveted; I think we all were, for we had all approached the dividing line of the crumbled glass and visiting room.

I felt bad for G.G., did not like to see her manhandled at all, but it was obvious that the orderlies were measured in their approach and were only doing what was needed. I wanted to tell her not to struggle, to go limp as I had in the Meryton police station, but I feared saying anything might make her behavior worse.