Page 23 of Her Brother's Keeper
He did not hesitate any longer, but strode to the thrashing child and pulled him from Elizabeth’s arms, wrapping him in his greater strength; his action not only startled Elizabeth, but Edward, too—he stopped his screams immediately.
There was a trickle of blood on Elizabeth’s cheek, resembling a tear.
After a surprised second, Edward laid his head against Darcy’s chest. He wept even now, but it was the ordinary weeping of a heartbroken child, not the crazed phrenzy of minutes before. He held the lad tightly, rocking him back and forth, as gradually the child quieted. He walked away from Elizabeth, towards the window.
“Edward, you must have gentle hands,” he said in his sternest, calmest voice, sounding foolish to his own ears.
To his surprise, the child repeated something that sounded very much like ‘gentle hands’.
“You hurt your sister. Sister loves you and you hurt her. Hurting Sister is bad.”
“Hurt,” Edward said.
Elizabeth sat—or perhaps collapsed—upon the room’s one settee.
“Yes. You hurt Sister.”
Edward looked over at Elizabeth. “Hurt,” he repeated.
Since he appeared to have calmed now, when he tried to get down, Darcy allowed it. Edward went directly to Elizabeth; Darcy followed.
“Tell your sister you are sorry,” he ordered.
“Hurt,” Edward said. He touched the bloody mark on the side of her face. “Hurt.”
“Yes, you hurt me,” Elizabeth said; her expression was solemn, but there was no anger in her voice. “Neddy hurt Sissy. Do not hurt.”
“Hurt,” Neddy repeated. He drifted off to the corner of the room where a wooden chest sat; he opened it and began piling bricks into towers.
“It is his lack of language,” Elizabeth said quietly. “As he ages, his frustration grows with being unable to make us understand his feelings. The one thing he knows to do is to cry, and the greater his infuriation, the louder those become.”
“And the more violent?”
“Yes,” she admitted with obvious reluctance. “But in case you were wondering if it is because I have spoilt him, it is not true. My uncle has made serious attempts at beating language into him. It will not work. If you are wondering why I did not discipline him for lashing out at me, it is because he does not understand why he is being struck, and it only incites him to respond in kind.”
She had begun to explain this once before, and Darcy could not prevent his distaste from showing. “I would not treat an animal that way, much less a young child.”
“That is what Mr Philips believes—that Neddy is an animal. Perhaps even less than that. It is not true! Perhaps he cannot…cannot attend correctly and he does occasionally lose control. But he is also loving, sweet, and generally good-natured. He does not mean to be disobedient. Can you imagine what it must be like, to be surrounded by people whom you cannot understand, who cannot understand you, without a clue of how to make yourself understood?”
To his own surprise, he suddenly recalled the intensity of the feeling very well. He felt a need to help Elizabeth understand, however, that the situation could not go on as it currently was. Obviously she loved the boy, but he was getting to be too much for her. He seated himself beside her on the settee. “I can. I had an abbreviated grand tour, and there wereone or two very uncomfortable situations in which I found myself unable to grasp what being said. I suppose I can sympathise, a little at least. I have heard him say a few words. Can he learn at all?”
“In a way. He might not do things the same way of ordinary children, but he isnotstupid. It is as though his mind is fogged—he sees little glimpses where most see whole pictures. Yet, he makes sense of those glimpses, forms them into patterns, and does his best to make sense of his world. He takes my hand and leads me to where he wishes to go—invariably beyond the doors of his home. He will bring me his cup when he is thirsty. When he cannot accomplish something on his own, say opening a complicated latch or something out of his reach—he brings my hand to it, or as near as he can get to it. He understands that my hands are capable of doing things his are not. He will look at his books for long periods of time, even though he cannot read. It is as if he knows they are a gateway to knowledge, and simply cannot unlock them. He holds up his arms to be picked up, and he gives the best hugs in the world.” Her chest tightened against sobs she could not permit, and she looked away.
Twenty
RIDING LESSONS
Elizabeth was mortified. Neddy had behaved even more wildly than she had anticipated; she had been unable to moderate his worst behaviours. She felt an utter failure, as if she were—if not the cause of Neddy’s problems—at least not helping them, or perhaps even worsening them.
Had she not known that giving him his coveted ride would cause trouble when it was finished?What did you think would happen, Elizabeth?
No, she had known the risks. She had wanted the treat for him, and time with Mr Darcy for herself, enough to set aside good judgment and allow it, regardless of the consequences.
All she had shown Mr Darcy was her own incompetence and inability to deal with her brother. Why would he want such a woman as the mother of his own children?
I need not worry over giving him ‘clues’ to my own feelings. After this wretched performance, he will never come again.
“What attempts have been made to assist him in learning speech?”
