Senseless

July 28, 1882 - Merritt

Lizzie read my letter from Lucius before she gave it to me, this I know because of his warnings at our first meeting. He does not use wax, only wafers. This letter came to me with a wax seal that was still slightly soft when it met my fingers. She waited as I read it, her hands clasped behind her back.

When I'd finished and looked back to her she said, "Surely you see why you must remain here."

I shook my head. "On the contrary, I think it wise of me to go. He is my doctor, after all. I trust that he knows what is best."

"Regardless of who he is, you cannot go. Gabriel has asked that you stay here until he arrives and can speak candidly with you."

I looked down at the envelope, the wax seal that had been fixed into place, a continued lie. A wound that was once again sliced open to bleed further. "Why must we wait? Clearly, you know what it is he wishes to say to me."

Lizzie sighed. "Come now, Merritt."

"I shall go."

Her jaw tightened and it looked as if she might cry. "There was always kindness between us. Please do not cause that to change now."

I straightened, my fist tightened around the parchment in my hand. "Are you threatening to be unkind?"

Lizzie shook her head and let her gaze fall to the floor. "I am only threatening to keep my word." 

Her eyes came back to mine so full of fear and sadness that I stepped back from the shock of seeing such emotion on her. It did not suit her. Things like that hung on me naturally, a weight across my shoulders, a dimness in my eyes. But not Lizzie, she was light and smiles. 

Her voice broke as she said, "I am begging you to listen to me, Merritt. All will be revealed to you in time, but you must first be patient."

I said something then that I had not even allowed myself to think. "I believe he has feelings for me, ones that might lead to more than just a companionable association. I could have love. A family. Perhaps even children. He might be able to truly give me freedom, truly understand me—"

Her mouth opened and closed, her bottom lip trembling slightly as she said, "Oh, Merritt..."

I swallowed and held up a hand. "He listens to me and tells me the truth, which is more you or anyone else is doing." 

I looked down at my hands, thinking of the long hours in his laboratory, the way he watched me, the look in his eyes, the smile he always gave me as he bandaged my hand. Perhaps it was not what most girls dreamed of, but his kindness was more than I was used to. It would be wrong of me to expect more from this life, to have anyone's affection was more than I deserved. 

Lizzie's gaze followed mine and she frowned at my hands, as if she could see through my gloves to the scars beneath. "He tells you his truth," She whispered, "not the truth. That is something you must understand."

I shook my head. "You know nothing of he words he speaks to me."

She frowned. "Merritt, has he done anything to hurt you?"

"I—"

Lizzie reached forward and grabbed my left wrist, her fingers quickly tugging off my gloves. I tried to pull away from her but only succeeded in helping her pull the glove entirely off. Her eyes found the burn marks on my skin before I could hide them in the folds of my dress. 

Her chin lifted, as if in challenge, and she said, "What has happened?"

"I tried to curl my own hair—"

"With what iron?" Lizzie demanded. She gestured to the room, "Everything in this bedroom has passed from my hands to yours."

"Lizzie, I—"

"You have always been strong-willed, all of this is a testament to that, but you were never a liar. Merritt, what has happened to you?"

"He was just running some tests and I—"

"My dear, you are his patient, not his roast. Why on earth would he need to burn you? Certainly, you can see how odd that is."

"He wants to see if he can make me feel pain. If I can be normal."

"You cannot. He knows that. We all know that. Fire will not change it, Merritt. It did not change it before. You will not feel the fire. But then, that is what he wants, you see. He wants to be certain that—" She sucked in a breath and turned from me, placing the back of her gloved hand to her lips. She shook her head, her words soft as she said, "Gabriel shall have to tell the rest. I cannot."

"Cannot or will not?"

"Cannot."

"Then I will go to the theatre tonight with Lucius and await Gabriel tomorrow—"

Lizzie lifted her chin, "You will stay here."

"You would keep me from leaving tonight? Keep me from possibly my only chance at happiness?"

"Lucius Abaddon does not love you, Merritt. You do not hurt the people you love."

"You are hurting me." I whispered. 

"I cannot allow you to go."

"It is my choice."

"I forbid it." I could tell from Lizzie's facial expression that she found as little joy in saying the words as I did in hearing them.

I shook my head. My mouth felt like a dessert. "You can't do that."

"I most certainly can. It is my home; you are my husband's ward. As such I have the ability to control what you do and where you go. As always, you have free reign of the house, but you shall not leave it. Not until Gabriel has returned and has said his peace."

"You would lock me up like a prisoner?"

"If it is what is for the best. I made a promise, one that I intend to keep. I will do whatever is necessary to protect you."

I found that I could no longer look at her. I did not understand what she was saying and I was far too exhausted to try. All I knew was that I had been fighting for three years and I was still no closer to winning.  Lucius Abaddon had been the first person to even glance my way without flinching in years. He had seen something of value in me when no one else did.

"All I wanted was freedom," I said.

"It is not being denied, Merritt. In time you shall see."

It was all very cryptic and I did not bother to speak to Lizzie again after that. She assured me she would send my condolences to Lucius. Hanny brought tea and toast to my room and we sat with the tray between us on my bed, neither of us speaking. I had so many questions. Desmott's words before leaving the house had been so strange, as had all of my conversations since. It is as if the word has been flipped upside down and I am the only one who seems to have noticed.