Thank you for sticking with me. I haven't forgotten about this story despite getting somewhat distracted by Mr. Darcy's Ruthless Proposal.
30.
I did not wish to leave my home, drive to the airport, fly on the plane or go to Scotland. I knew I needed to, that I owed a duty to Georgiana to try to right everything that had gone wrong, but I selfishly wanted to remain by Elizabeth's side, basking in her light, a large pussycat sunning himself in the patch of warm sunlight shining through a sliding glass door on a cold winter's day. I also wanted to continue to help Jane. She was clearly a woman of sense who reacted correctly when faced with reprehensible conduct, rather than embracing it as G.G. had done.
Yet I did all these things, even as my heart remained with the curly headed woman with the lovely dark eyes who was temporarily living in my home. I envied the dining room her company, the elderly dachshund dog her affection.
Even before the plane had lifted off, I was desperately calculating the soonest period of when I might return to her, to them all. However, even the most unrealistic calculations were disheartening.
I reminded myself yet again that the bulk of the blame for G.G.'s actions rested with George. She was only sixteen and he'd been molesting her for years. I told myself, although I hardly believed it: Surely her character is not yet firmly fixed; surely she can still change for the better; surely she can still be redeemed. But the problem with all my hopes for G.G.'s betterment depended on whether she was willing to try to change.
While I hoped that the experience of having George prostitute her had shown G.G. all that was wrong, I could hardly credit that it would work any great change. Instead, she might feign contrition yet hope to go back to George or someone else equally depraved if she could but get away with it.
I did a bit of necessary business on my phone before we even lifted off. I emailed Mrs. Annesley about my trip, first telling her that G.G. had been found and I was not sure when I might return, then getting down to business with some notes on who could take over certain projects while I was gone and which could wait until my return. I left voicemails canceling with Ms. Berry and the psychiatrist I had finally been scheduled to see. With the former I expressed my hope that I might be able to make the next session, told her about G.G. being located, and asked if we could perhaps meet remotely if I wasn't back by then as I doubted I would be; with the later I asked for another appointment the following month if at all possible, explaining that I was dealing with a family emergency.
I fretted for some time over whether, perhaps, I could send Elizabeth a text or an email. I even went so far as to begin writing her a text and then an email, but deleted both. Truly, there wasn't anything I needed to tell her. I did not want her to feel obligated to exchange messages with me. In the end I sent her nothing, put my phone away.
Rick had apparently been observing my actions and then hesitation, for he teased in a sing-songy tone "Someone's got it bad."
Recalling the interest Rick had been displaying in Jane (though he had tempered it enough that the object of his interest might not have been aware, I of course knowing him all my life had a good sense of his tells), I considered making a similar comment back. I mumbled, "I'm not the only one."
Rick groaned. "The timing's terrible." He ran his hand through his sandy hair.
"Tell me about it." I knew he was thinking about Jane, but the reasoning also applied to whatever thing I might hope to have with Elizabeth.
We didn't talk further about it and he retreated to the other side of the plane. Still, that thought kept circling my head.
Eventually, I slept as I needed to, for when it arrived it would be day and a busy day at that. I awoke shortly before we landed, grateful for the bed the private plane afforded, even though it cramped my large frame and left me with an aching neck.
Rick and I made it to our hotel rooms as quickly as we could. We agreed to only shower and change before we met in the lobby to go to the police station. Somehow I beat him down and used the time to check my emails. Likely I would have something from Mrs. Annesley as she was an early riser and meticulous about checking her messages and email. But curiously enough, the only email of any significance (which had ended up in my junk mail) was not from her.
My heart both sang and swooped when I saw I had an email from one Elizabeth Bennet and I immediately opened it. I had just read the first couple of lines, which began-
Dear Bill,
Did you have a mother who taught you to respond promptly to all personal correspondence? My mother never taught me that, but my aunt did. While I told Mary that she could answer your letter on behalf of all of us, had no intention of ever writing you, well here I am
-when Rick came down and said "Okay, let's go."
With a groan, I put my phone into my pocket and followed him out to the rental car. "You're driving," I told him after pulled my phone back out and sat down.
"Really?" Rick grinned, a lopsided grin that I knew all too well. He glanced over at my phone but I still had the lock screen on.
I didn't like to let Rick drive, because he had some sort of obnoxious (I'm still thirteen-years-old) side that came out when driving, at least with me. He was the sort who liked to tease me by stopping at the last minute, accelerating rapidly from a stop, driving like he had a sports car in a street race when we were just in a regular sedan on an ordinary street. He thought I was too stodgy of a driver, while I thought I was merely responsible.
"None of your funny business," I announced as I buckled my seatbelt. "We are in a foreign county and you aren't used to driving on the left side of the road. The last thing we need is to get a ticket or worse get in an accident." I stared at him to emphasize my seriousness, even while I worried that by saying anything he might act worse.
"I'm hurt," Rick deadpanned, touching his chest with his hand. "To think that you think at such a time like this that I might misbehave."
"Alright then," I responded, hoping rather than believing that he might behave. He imputed the address into the car's integrated GPS and then rushed off, already driving too quickly.
Hoping it might help, I announced as I unlocked my phone "I have an important email I need to finish reading."
"Work or pleasure?" Rick stopped abruptly at a light and then leaned over toward me, trying to take a peak at my phone even as I held it away, annoyed that I hadn't even begun to read on.
I had a decision to make then, play dumb (even though I had half given up the game by holding the phone away, but I could blame that on habit) or confess. I thought that if I confessed I would certainly be subjected to additional teasing, but he might actually drive as he should.
I wavered and then caved. "If you must know, I got an email from Elizabeth."
"Really? That's great. What does she say? Does she say anything about Jane?"
"I have no idea; let me read, please, please."
"Okay," Rick replied and then actually miracle of miracles drove nicely for once, freeing me to concentrate on her email. We went whizzing by all sorts of sights that I normally would have wished to see (I had never been to Scotland before) but I saw not a one.
I forced myself to skim from the beginning and then picked up at
...well here I am, following the rules.
I got the letter you wrote to us from Jane today and reread it of course. How very different it was to read it now, knowing you better. I will confess that the first time I read it, I could hardly credit what you said, so deeply formed was my antipathy. But now, now given what I know of you, how much you have helped Jane, your kindness to us all made me want to read your letter again, to finally make my own reply.
I want you to know, I am sorry for my cruel words as you were walking away. You are right that I wanted to give you a taste of your own medicine, to hurt you. You could have thought, tit for tat, we were even then, no apologies needed on either side. But instead, you took the trouble to apologize, most thoroughly.
When my sisters and I are mean to one another (which rarely happens anymore, I cannot even remember the last time Jane and I argued and when we have in the past 95% of the time it was me poking at her until finally she had no choice but to give me some mild rebuke), a quick "sorry" and hug are all that is needed. But you did so much more; you truly humbled yourself and furthermore you seemed to actually mean it!
And then to top it off, you actually complimented me. If beauty is as beauty does, I sure was ugly toward you. How you can even view me as pretty, I really don't understand.
I think my appearance is okay; I might give myself a 6 or even a 7 out of ten for appearance on a particularly good day, consider myself "cute" "winsome" perhaps even "pretty" but growing up as I did beside the perfect 10 that is Jane (who never had a clutsy awkward period, never had more than one pimple at a time), I never made the mistake of thinking I was anything more. In middle school and high school, guys would cosy up to me to try to get with Jane.
My mother usually lumped me in with Mary as taking after my father, what she called the ugly side of the family, while Jane took after the Gardiners. I don't know if you ever met my mom, but she won a whole bunch of beauty pageants when she was young, even had a brief modeling carrier. She still has a bunch of her headshots up on the living room walls.
Jane, if anything, is even lovelier than my mom in her prime. Jane is beautiful, stunning, exceptional, and she is so kind and modest that she matches with a perfect 10 on the inside, too.
So when I first read your letter, I thought you were teasing me, most cruelly too, to write "Your appearance is everything lovely; indeed, in the course of our interactions I have come I think you are one of the most beautiful women of my acquaintance." I couldn't take that at face value. I couldn't imagine that you ever even thought of approaching me, for me, that you might care what I thought of you.
I saw such kindness in everything you wrote, not neglecting to address Mary (who seems to always get overlooked), to treat us all as important.
Then when I got to the part of your letter when you shared so much, when before I had thought you were just making excuses and exaggerating, this time I was certain that everything you were telling us was 100% true. The situation with your sister, I cannot even imagine having to deal with it all, and the months of uncertainty you have lived with.
But I hope you will be kinder to yourself; you would have protected her, had you known what was going on, and there is no reason to think your parents would have done better. Unfortunately, we cannot avoid all the evil in the world, this is just a fact of life.
With what has happened with Jane, with all that Chuck did, and even punching you, too, Chuck has proven that his general geniality, assumed good nature is only a simulated goodness, one that only runs skin deep. I always thought his was not a very complex character, but liked him well enough for my sister as in this they seemed to be a match.
Please do not read this to be me disparaging Jane. While I have no confidence in my appearance, she has always believed that Mary and I got the lion's share of brains. Jane was only ever an adequate student, but enjoys constructing flower arrangements as she had done since high school. She has always wanted to be a wife and mother. I thought Chuck would be able to give her that, that they would be so amiable toward one another that they would have trouble making decisions.
But now it seems we have learned that Chuck's character is all too intricate, that he is a wolf in sheep's clothing, wanting to devour Goldilocks (oh dear, I think I combined two stories just then, but you get the idea). He had the appearance of goodness, but you have the substance.
As for Caroline, I never liked her, and from what I can gather from what you did not say about her and from Mary's conjectures and what little Jane has said (for she never wants to speak ill of anyone), she is worse than I could have imagined. I'm sure you don't want to discuss any of that, but if you did I would want to listen and support you as a friend.
I stopped reading for a moment when I read that. Here was the answer. Elizabeth only wanted to be my friend. I would take that over nothing, but I had hoped...I had thought... But it was not to be; I had been placed in the "friend zone."
I tried to lock away my feelings, to stifle the little prickle of tears in my eyes, to focus on the next bit, but before I could, Rick stopped the car and announced "We're here." I locked my phone, took a deep breath and tried to gird myself for what was sure to be an overwhelming day. I could read the rest of her email later.