The Hidden Years (61 page)

'I thought I'd better go and see if she needed any
help… Sometimes when he's really bad he tries to get out of
his chair… and she's always afraid that he might fall and
hurt himself even more. Anyway, as I opened the door I could see what I
thought was madam leaning over his chair. He was holding on to
her… Or at least that's what I thought, and then I
realised…' He swallowed hard and then looked directly at the
doctor.

'Then I realised that he was hurting her, sir…
That he had his hands round her throat, and I'll be honest with you,
for a moment I thought… But then he saw me and he let go of
her…

'Madam, she made me promise not to say anything about
it… Said that he had forgotten himself for a moment. But the
next morning her throat was all bruised and she had to wear a scarf for
almost a week. And there have been other things… It's not
that he's a violent man by nature, sir, and madam would be the first
person to say as much, but he gets so cruelly jealous of
her… And I was wondering, well, if there wasn't something
you could do, sir, something you could say to him perhaps.' He stopped
and then said uncomfortably, 'I hope you don't think I've spoken out of
turn, sir, but like I said, Mrs Danvers said it was nothing and made
light of it, but…'

'You did the right thing in telling me, Chivers,' Ian
reassured him. 'As you so rightly said, poor Edward suffers a great
deal from the pain of his amputations. I'll talk to him…
There are several new drugs coming on to the market soon, and perhaps a
brief spell away from here…'

'It would kill him if he were to lose madam,' Chivers told
Ian sadly. 'She's a wonderful wife to him. Like I said, she's a saint
with him…'

But Liz was also a normal, healthy young woman not yet
thirty, Ian added mentally to himself as he opened the library door,
and if Edward wasn't careful his own black moods, his own violence
towards her, could precipitate the very thing that terrified him so
much. Of course he was afraid of losing her, of course he was jealous.

As Ian had expected, Edward was very antagonistic towards
his suggestion that perhaps it was time to review his situation and
that maybe a short spell away from home might be a good idea.

He moved violently in his chair, his fists clenching and
unclenching in his aggression, and watching him Ian could well believe
that he was, as Chivers had suggested, being violent towards Liz.

In the circumstances it was perhaps a foreseeable outcome
of their relationship, but in Ian's view that did not excuse it. He had
no wish to expose Liz to further violence by directly confronting
Edward, but everything about Edward's attitude only confirmed what
Chivers had already told him.

Perhaps the best thing, he decided when he was forced to
acknowledge that he wasn't making any progress at all with
Edward—who flatly denied that either his pain or his jealousy
were beginning to get out of hand—was for him to talk with
Liz.

'Why are you asking all these questions anyway?' Edward
attacked. 'Liz been talking to you, has she, complaining? That damned
mill, that's all she cares about these days…'

As the aggression left him he was rapidly descending into
a mood of maudlin self-pity, Ian recognised.

'You know that's not true, Edward… and, no, Liz
hasn't said anything to me. The reason I asked if you were finding it
difficult coping with the pain is that it's a well-known medical fact
that, no matter how good a drug might be, after a while the human body
becomes used to it, that its efficiency is decreased. There are new
drugs coming on to the market, and, as I've said before, a spell away
from here—'

'No. No. I'm not leaving here until they carry me out in
my coffin,' Edward told him fiercely. 'This is my home and this is
where I intend to stay.'

'But remember, Edward,' Ian cautioned him quietly, 'the
only reason you
can
stay here is because Liz is
so devoted to you…'

He saw with pity the way the other man flushed and tensed.
It was perhaps unkind of him to remind him of his dependence, but the
words still had to be said.

'Look, why don't I leave you to think over our
discussion?' Ian suggested, getting up.

'Nothing to think about,' Edward told him angrily.

Ian was halfway across the hall when Liz came in through
the front door. She looked tired and drawn, but the moment she saw him
her face was illuminated by a warm smile.

'Ian, how nice… I thought I might have missed
you. How is Edward?' she queried anxiously. 'He's been in such a lot of
pain recently. I'm worried about him…'

It gave him the opening he needed, and, walking up to her,
he said quietly, 'Yes. I know… Look, I'd like to have a
little talk with you. Do you have the time now?'

Given the opportunity to prepare herself Liz suspected
later that she would have been more on her guard—as it was,
she had no suspicion of what was to come until they were both seated in
her sitting-room. . 'I'm very concerned about Edward,' he began without
preamble, and then, seeing the question darkening her eyes, quickly
reassured her, 'No…not physically—in many ways
he's in much better shape than anyone could have originally predicted,
and that's down to you, Liz… No, it's his emotional state
that concerns me. There's no doubt that the pain he suffers from his
amputations is having a detrimental effect on him. I've suggested to
him that we try a different drug, but what concerns me now is his
attitude towards you, Liz.'

He saw the way she tensed and said gently, 'You're a very
special young woman, Liz. What you've achieved here, what you've done
for Edward, these are magnificent, wonderful achievements, but you are
after all a normal young woman, with a normal young woman's natural
appetites, and Edward—'

'If you're asking me if I've been unfaithful to Edward,
then the answer is no,' Liz told him jerkily, her face flushing but her
eyes determined as she looked directly at him and told him frankly,
'I'm not a very sexual woman, Ian. I discovered that years ago with
Kit…David's father. He was my first…my only
lover…' She bit her lip. 'I knew what I was taking on when I
married Edward, and I did so willingly. I've
never
been unfaithful to Edward and I don't intend to be. I don't need or
want a lover…' She saw his face—the compassion and
the pity in it—and pressed on desperately. 'It's very
difficult for me to talk to you like this. No one likes admitting their
failings, their inadequacies, do they? But, believe me, I
know… as far as sex is concerned… Well, I just
don't seem to have the… ability to respond—'

All the things he had heard about Kit Danvers, and his
knowledge of Liz herself, made Ian frown. He was a doctor very much
ahead of his time; a man who genuinely liked and admired the female
sex, and who in addition had a great deal of respect and affection for
Liz herself, and he interrupted her and said gently, 'When you talk
about failings and inadequacies, it seems to me that
you
are shouldering the blame which rightly belongs to another.'

When she looked blankly at him, he added, 'I know from
what you've told me about your life with your aunt that she was an
extremely repressive and cold woman; something like that is bound to
have had an effect on you, especially during your teenage years. You
were how old when David was conceived, eighteen?'

'Seventeen,' she told him hesitantly, a small frown
puckering her forehead.

Seventeen… He sighed to himself. Still a child,
and Kit Danvers had been what? Late twenties, at least. Old enough and
surely experienced enough to have led her gently and caringly towards
the discovery of her own sexuality. But then if all that he had heard
about the man was true, he had been undoubtedly one of those men who
took their pleasure greedily and uncaringly, and certainly without any
consideration for the emotions and feelings of his partner.

'Those inadequacies of which you speak belong more
properly on Kit's shoulders,' Ian told her firmly. 'He was a good deal
older than you, and certainly a good deal more experienced…'

Liz moved uncertainly in her chair, and then said
honestly, 'I don't think it would be fair to blame Kit…
After all, in the years since… Well, I've never…'
She broke off, flushing a little. It was hard for her to discuss
something so personal even with a doctor she knew as well as she knew
Ian.

'You've never what?' he probed. 'Never experienced desire?
Never…?'

She flushed again, wondering if he could possibly know of
those nights she had woken up aching, tense, aware of a need buried
deep inside her.

'I've never wanted to have a sexual relationship with
anyone,' she insisted huskily.

'You mean you've never
allowed
yourself to want to have a sexual relationship with anyone,' Ian
corrected her shrewdly. 'Which is a very different thing indeed. I
don't want to embarrass or upset you, Liz… it's just that
I'm concerned about the way Edward seems to be directing his
frustration and bitterness towards you. Oh, I know it's a natural
enough reaction, but when it comes to actual physical
violence…'

He saw from her tension that Chivers had not exaggerated.
'That sort of thing can't be allowed to happen, Liz…'

'He gets so jealous… I don't really
understand—I've never…'

She swallowed and Ian told her compassionately, 'He
loves
you, my dear; he has all the normal sexual feelings of any man deeply
in love, but he cannot physically express them and of course he's
afraid that some other man more able than he will take his place as
your lover…'

Her face had drained of colour. 'But that's…
that's—'

'That's how men are,' Ian told her drily. 'It's a gut-deep
atavistic thing, something beyond logic and reason—we're all
of us capable of jealousy where our chosen mates are concerned, but I'm
afraid that in Edward's case his natural jealousy is getting out of
hand. I think a short spell away from here would give you both a
much-needed break—'

'He'd never agree to that,' Liz interrupted him.

'No… it seems not, but unless we can find a way
of getting him to confront his jealousy and admit that his behaviour is
becoming irrational… Well, I'm afraid that his
violence… and he is violent at times, we both know
that…' Ian sighed, then continued, 'You can't be happy in
this marriage, Liz. You…'

'I'm Edward's
wife
,' she retorted
stiffly. 'I owe him so much, Ian, more than you can possibly know. If I
left him…'

'If you left him
his
world would
come to an end, but what about your world, Liz, what about
you
?
I suspect that you've spent so much of your life putting the needs of
others before your own that you're in danger of forgetting that you do
have those needs.'

'What are you suggesting? That I leave him and take a
lover?' She gave him a bitter look. 'How could I do that? Even if I
wanted to, I couldn't. I have David to consider, and Edward
himself… He can't help it, you know… These black
moods of his leave him so frightened and broken, poor man. He doesn't
really mean the things he says and does…' She broke off,
biting her lip. 'He needs me, Ian, and for as long as he does need me I
intend to be here for him.'

'Very well. But remember
I'm
always
here if
you
need me… and I still
intend to try to persuade him to give you both a break by going into a
convalescent home for a week or so.'

As Ian drove away he wondered if he had after all done
more harm than good. Would it perhaps not have been kinder to have left
her in ignorance, believing that her sexuality was warped and stunted,
rather than that she was the victim of a man too selfish, too uncaring
to have allowed her to discover it slowly, and to have helped her to
nourish and develop it? After all, at seventeen her body had barely
even finished growing, never mind her emotions and her mind.

For a long time after Ian had gone Liz stood staring out
into the garden. Could what he had said about Kit possibly be
true…?

But even if it was, what did it matter now? She was
committed to Edward and she intended to remain committed to him. She
loved him… not perhaps as a man, and certainly not as a
lover, but she cared about him none the less and it distressed her that
Ian had guessed how violent he had become and how he was abusing her,
because she knew how much Edward himself in his rational, gentle
moments shrank from the knowledge of what his black moods of depression
and violence were doing to their relationship.

Sensitive, caring Edward, who would never willingly hurt
anyone… but, like all human beings, there was a darker side
to his nature, a darker side which pain and mental despair were
beginning to bring to the fore. Sighing to herself, she walked to the
door. Edward would be wondering where she was.

For a while after Ian's visit things improved. Edward's
black moods eased a little, and Liz found it easier to talk to him
about her plans for the mill without him losing his temper and accusing
her of caring more about it than she did about him and David. She
pushed to the back of her mind Ian's gentle comments about her
sexuality. After all, what was the point in dwelling on them?

Work started on the renovation of the mill. Liz no longer
read her trade journals in secret, but discussed their contents with
Edward, brightly ignoring his sulkiness, trying to get him to take some
interest in what she was doing, scrupulously including him in each and
every small stage of progress.

A manager would have to be found for the mill, a man with
the experience to take charge of and train a raw workforce, and a man
who understood what it was she wanted to achieve.

The best place to find such a man was surely either in the
mill towns of Lancashire or the Scottish borders, and so after
consultation with Edward, who was reluctantly beginning to accept the
presence of the mill as a reality in their lives, and after discussion
with her backers—the merchant bank—advertisements
were placed in suitable local papers.