LADY ANN'S FOLLY: Chapter Twelve - Part Thirteen

Elizabeth lay in the little children’s bed in the room at the top of the house that was decorated for young visitors, wondering if she had gone mad.

Her bottom still smarted from the terrible beating she had received from Patrick when he dragged her screaming upstairs. It was a towering pile of humiliations that had been meted upon her now and she honestly did not know what she done to deserve it.

She had always been a just and honourable lady. She had treated her family well. She had treated the servants no better and no worse than they deserved. She had kept a good house. There was no act she could think of in either her resent or distant past that could account for her being punished in this way now.

And there was little to no explanation as to how it had even happened!

Yes, she had told her husband that sometimes wished she could be a child again and Reggie had at that moment jumped on her and said the same thing – that he wished to be an adult – but that shouldn’t have made any difference. Magic didn’t really work. It couldn’t have happened!

But she could feel her little boy body. She knew it had. She had turned into Reggie and now nobody would believe her.

The worst part of it was that Howard wasn’t supporting her at all. He didn’t stand up for her. He didn’t stop her being punished over and over again. But why? He knew the truth! He should be helping her!

Tears came to her eyes and trickled down both cheeks toward her ears as she looked up at the ceiling.

“What are you crying about now Dredgie?

Elizabeth looked resentfully over to the other bed where Reggie’s sister Felicity sat up smirking at her.

“What did you call me?” sniffed Elizabeth.

“Dredgie. Don’t tell me you’ve forgotten. It’s what I always call you. Dredgie!” She giggled mischievously.

“Don’t,” whined Elizabeth. “That’s not my name.”

“What are you crying about anyway, you big baby?”

“Nothing,” said Elizabeth, rolling over so that her back was to the little girl.

 “About how father smacked you I suppose,” declared Felicity matter-of-factly. “Well you shouldn’t sniffle about that, you deserved it.”

“I did not.”

“You did so.”

“I did not!” snapped Elizabeth, sitting back up and glaring at Felicity. But immediately she recognised the exchange as a very childish one and shut her mouth.  

Felicity smirked again. “You’re stupid if you think anyone will believe you. You don’t really think you’re Aunt Elizabeth do you?”

Elizabeth scowled. “I am Aunt Elizabeth. I mean... No. I mean I am Elizabeth.”

“Prove it,” said Felicity.

“I don’t have to prove anything to you.” Elizabeth rolled back over onto her side with her back to the girl.

“The real Reggie has a lisp. If you’re really Aunt Elizabeth then you won’t have one.”

Elizabeth hugged the covers tighter, the horror she’d felt at dinner when her speech failed her coming back to her.

“Come on,” said Felicity. “I’ll give you a tongue twister. If you can say it then I’ll believe you.”

Elizabeth ignored her.

“You should let me help you,” said Felicity. “If you can convince me that you’re really our aunt then I can help you convince Mother and Father.”

Elizabeth turned her head slightly. Felicity was hardly a credible witness but she was desperate for an ally; somebody who would help her. And surely that one lisp had been a mistake because she had felt so under pressure. Surely if she concentrated then she would be able to avoid it.

She sat up and turned round to face Felicity. “Alright,” she said. “Let me prove it to you.”

Felicity grinned. “Right then. Here’s the tongue twister.” She thought for a minute then said, “Six sick slick slim sycamore saplings.” She grinned expectantly.

Elizabeth swallowed and then cleared her throat. She swallowed again. She could do this. She only looked like a little boy. She wasn’t one really. She still knew everything she used to know. She could talk normally; surely she could.

“Alright then,” she said. She cleared her throat a second time and started slowly, but as each word came out it felt like a nail driven into the coffin of her chance to regain her rightful place as each word damned her further, proving beyond doubt to this girl who she really was. “Shix shick shlick shlim shycamore shaplings.”

Felicity laughed and clapped her hands. “I told you Dredgie! It told you! I knew you weren’t really Aunt Elizabeth!”

“I am so Aunt Elizabeth!” she wailed.

“You’re not. You’re just dreadful Dredgie! Dreadful dreary dirty Dredgie!”

“Shtop it!” cried Elizabeth. ”Shtop it! That ishn’t my name!”

“Yes it is! You’re Dredgie! You’re Dredgie!”

“No!” snapped Elizabeth, becoming increasingly childlike in her rantings. “My name ishn’t Dredgie! It’sh Reggie!”

There was a sudden silence in the room. Felicity grinned smugly. Elizabeth panted, feeling powerless and foolish.

“I told you so,” said Felicity, “and now you’ve admitted it so it must be true.”

Elizabeth’s cheeks coloured hotly.

“You’re just my little brother Reggie,” said Felicity, giggling. “Regular really, just repulsive little Reggie.”

She lay down and rolled over, turning her back on Elizabeth and Elizabeth sat there pouting, feeling hopeless and alone. No one would help her. No one would believe her. She had felt nothing but dread and horror all day.

Except just now.

Just now when she said that her name was Reggie.

For just a moment, as she said it, she felt a moment of perfect contentment, a warm glow at the back of her head.

She lay back, feeling how small she was, tiny even in such a small children’s bed.

When she’d said that she was Reggie. She’d felt better.

Her lips quivered, then very quietly, just to herself so that Felicity wouldn’t hear, she whispered, “I’m Reggie,” and immediately she felt better. She didn’t know why. Saying that reinforced everything bad about her predicament. But saying it also made her resent it less for some reason. “I’m Reggie,” she said again, and then she closed her eyes.

She just wanted this to be over so she could go back to being her proper self. That was all she wanted.