Chapter 9: Sisterly Affection

Peanut dust. Edward died from an allergic reaction to peanut dust. Elizabeth can't stop thinking about it as she tosses and turns. Unable to sleep, she gets out of bed and sits on the ground to sort out her thoughts.

Somebody must have snitched. Nobody knew Edward was allergic to peanuts. Their father, in his paranoia, had made everyone swear to keep Edward's allergy a secret. It was in the contract of every bodyguard, nanny, tutor, chef, and assistant who worked for the Tudors. Even the gardeners had the clause of secrecy in their contracts. Henry had gone so far as to make secret deals with every restaurant the Tudors ate at to ensure Edward could eat there without having to make his allergy public. Elizabeth once thought that her father's actions bordered on lunacy. Now, she's not so sure.

Racking her brain, Elizabeth tries to figure out who betrayed her brother. Certainly none of the people who worked with him would. Would Mary's people have tried to off him? Was it an associate of John Hardwick?

Suddenly, she remembers sitting in Bess Raleigh's living room. With her heart pounding, her words that afternoon echo in her mind.

"I can't believe he's already an adult. It seems like yesterday Mary and I were reading the back of his granola bars to make sure there weren't any peanuts in them."

She is the traitor. She had betrayed her brother's secret.

But I only told Margaret, she tells herself. Margaret works at the science center. She has no connection to Edward. That's why I came to Sunset Valley. I didn't want any connections to my old life. 

But Bess does, a little voice in the back of her head whispers. Bess was in the kitchen when she told Margaret. She could have easily overheard. 

Elizabeth begins to wail hysterically as the realization the she inadvertantly killed Edward hits her. Her cries rouse her husband. 

"Elizabeth? What's wrong?" he asks sleepily.

 "I killed him!"

"What? No, honey, you didn't kill anybody. It was just a nightmare."

"I killed him! Bess knows about peanuts and I killed him! It's all my fault!"

Robert frowns, struggling to understand. Getting out of bed, he walks over to his wife and pulls her to her feet. He decides tries a new approach. "Darling, who did you kill?"

"EDWARD!"

"Okay. What does Bess know about peanuts?"

"That Edward can't have them!"

"I see. How does Bess know this?"

"Because I told her! I told her about the peanuts! Now Edward is dead and it's my fault!"

As Elizabeth sobs, Robert manages to put the pieces of her train of thought together. His attempts to soothe and reassure her fail, so in the end, he just takes her in his arms, carries her to bed, and holds her, letting her weep until she falls asleep.

When morning comes, her tears are spent. Elizabeth knows what she has to do. Somebody has to tell the police who let Edward's secret allergy slip. The thought of setting foot in her old neighborhood is revolting, but she has to do it. It will be her last act of sisterly affection towards her brother. Resigned, Elizabeth packs a suitcase and bids her family goodbye.

"Mind your father while I'm gone," she tells the children. "I'll call every night. Keep up with your schoolwork and behave. I'll be home as soon as I can."

The children nod. After kissing each one on the head, she kisses her husband.

"You're doing the right thing," he tells her softly. "Do what you have to do, then come home. We'll be right here when you get back."

Elizabeth smiles sadly. "I wish you could come with me," she admits. "I'm not sure I can do this without you, Robert."

"I wish I could go with you, too, dear. But somebody has to hold down the fort." He lovingly kisses her forehead. "You are a strong woman, love. Go show them how strong you are."

"For Edward?" she whispers.

"Yes, for Edward. But also for yourself." Robert hugs her one last time. "Go, darling. We'll be here."

Elizabeth gets into the waiting taxi and waves to her family. Robert, Catherine, Jane and James wave until the taxi disappears from view.

While Elizabeth is gone, life carries on as normally as it can. At first, Robert feels a little overwhelmed running the household by himself, but he gets used to it as the days pass.

He's particularly grateful for Catherine's help looking after Philippa.

Between Catherine and the peg box, Robert is usually able to get a few hours of writing done a day. The Enchanted Orchestra is progressing nicely.

Sometimes the muse speaks to Robert so clearly that he can't tear himself away to cook dinner. When that happens, Catherine is also responsible for feeding the twins. Unlike Philippa, the twins aren't particularly enthusiastic about her cooking.

"Cereal? Again? Couldn't you fix us peanut butter and jelly sandwiches? Or a salad? It doesn't have to be gourmet, you know. Just something besides cereal. Anything but cereal!"

When he does cook, Robert enforces Elizabeth's cherished family mealtime ritual, feeling that maintaining normalcy is the best route to go. Elizabeth often times her phone calls to coincide with dinner; Robert puts her on speakerphone so that she can participate in the mealtime conversation. She says very little about what is happening where she is, and is far more interested in hearing what happened in school that day and how Robert's work is progressing. 

Her late-night calls are slightly more enlightening. These calls are for Robert's ears only. Elizabeth doesn't want to burden the children with information about the murder of their uncle, whom they never knew. She also doesn't want them to know about her frustration and anxiety. 

"I've told the police here everything I know," she grumbles one night, "but they still want me to stay in town for a few more days. I'm stuck here at Walsingham's. I feel like a prisoner."

"Love, there's no need to be a hermit. Go out on the town. See a play or attend a concert. Go to a poetry reading. Doesn't he have a daughter? Ask her to show you what's happening. I know you loathe being back there, but nobody said it had to be total drudgery." 

"I don't want to be photographed for the tabloids. If I don't go out, they can't take my picture and speculate why I'm at the symphony and why I'm with Frances Walsingham and Robert Devereux. The best thing to do is lay low."

"I didn't say go out with Francis and his friends. That would be drudgery, listening to all those conspiracy theories! Go out with his daughter and hers."

"His daughter is Frances. Devereux is her fiance."

"Francis named his daughter Frances?"

"Yes."

"How...original. Anyway, dear, the tabloids all know you're back in town, yes?"

"Unfortunately."

"Well, don't forget they can also speculate about why you are holed up in the Walsingham fortress." Robert hears her grumbling. "Have a little fun, love. Please. Don't make your stay worse than it has to be."

"Fine..."

Free from his mother's watchful eyes, James ignores his homework and heads to the park to spend his afternoons fishing. 

That is, until his academically-minded, honor-roll sisters catch him at the park.

"I hate geography. I hate you both, too."

"Stop whining James, it's not that hard. I'll even help you."

"Shut up, Jane. I don't need your help, you nerd."

"Fine! You just go ahead and be stupid!"

"Fine! I will!"

"If the two of you don't shut up, I'll knock your heads together and feed you cereal for supper," Catherine grumbles. They work in silence in the hope that they might get a real meal for supper. When Catherine leaves to tend the garden, James looks over guiltily at his twin.

"I'm sorry I called you a nerdy genius. Will you still help me?"

Jane sighs. "Sure. Where are you stuck?"

James isn't the only one who finds reasons to neglect homework. 

Unaware of the coldness between her parents and his, Catherine finally works up the nerve to ask Carmen Raleigh if he will be her boyfriend. 

She almost faints with joy when he says yes. 

"When is Mom coming home? It's been two weeks." 

Robert sighs. "I don't know, sweetheart. The last time I spoke to her, she was hoping to be home next week, but she isn't sure."

"Why doesn't she just leave?"

"Because she isn't finished helping her family yet."

"Catherine says it's really stupid that Mom has to help them. She doesn't talk to them, they don't talk to us. Why doesn't Mom talk to them? Does she not care about them? I mean, they're her family like we are, but she cares about us. Why?"

"It's very complicated sweetheart," Robert says slowly. "You're right, your mom doesn't really talk to her family much. When she was your age, her family wasn't close like ours is. She didn't have the kind of relationship with her siblings that you have with yours. Not all families are as close as we are. That's why she doesn't talk to them very often."

"Okay. So why is she helping them?"

"She feels it's her responsibility to help them because they're her family. She thinks that she knows something that will help them with their problem."

"Why should she feel responsible?"

"Emotions aren't always logical, sweetheart. She just does."

"Hmph." Jane stares at the board. "Well if James and Catherine didn't talk to me, I wouldn't help them. They could solve their own problems."

Robert chuckles. "Have you ever helped your brother with homework when you were upset with him?"

"Well...yeah."

"Why?"

"Because...he's my brother. It was the nice thing to do."

"That's how your mother feels right now. She's upset with her family, but it was important to her that she helped them right now. But I promise you, if I thought your mother was getting herself into trouble, I would have done my best to convince her that she shouldn't go. Does that make you feel better?"

"I guess." Jane thinks for a minute. "I guess Mom's family is lucky that she's so nice."

"They are very lucky." Robert smiles at his daughter. "You know, you're brother's pretty lucky that you're so nice, too. I don't think he'd have gotten a B on that last test if you hadn't helped him study."

They remain silent as Jane roundly defeats her father. Robert never cared for chess much, but he's taken it up as a way to enjoy time with Jane.

"I hope Catherine, James, Philippa and I never stop talking," Jane says quietly as she stands up.

Robert kisses her on the top of her head. "I hope so, too," he answers. 

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We're getting close to the climax of this story. Thank goodness. I'm trying to sketch out a plot for the next generation that is more organized and less melodramatic. I'm surprised I've made it this far in this plot. I tend to lose interest in writing a story after about the halfway point, so this is impressive for me.

Speaking of writing, I have a feeling that I don't write children very well, so if anybody has tips, suggestions or critiques on writing children, feel free to let me know.

I hope I'm handling Elizabeth's family struggles in a fairly realistic fashion and that the last scene was decent. I'm not a parent, so I have absolutely no idea how I would handle questions of that nature from a child. I just kind of rolled with it what came to my mind.

Yes, the real Francis Walsingham named his daughter Frances Walsingham. Hurr. Robert Devereux, Earl of Essex was her second husband. He was the stepson of the real Robert Dudley, who married his mother Lettice Knollys. While he was the favorite of Elizabeth in her later years, Essex led a coup against the government in 1601 and was summarily executed. He was in charge of English troops in Ireland and had left Ireland without the Queen's permission and was deprived of public office after being convicted of deserting his office. He was remorseful until the Queen refused to renew his right to collect the taxes on the sweet wine monopoly, which was his main income. Then he kind of lost it, fortified his house and attempted to march on London. Needless to say, it did not end well.

So, I'm not planning on using poses very often because I've  found they sometimes cause issues in my houses from time to time (the 2-story houses, that is) and they are a lot of work to get the Sims in the right places and such. I decided to use them for this chapter.  A few might be sprinkled around through my legacy, but I'd like to keep them to a minimum for my own sanity.

In that vein, ignore the discrepancies on which side of the bed Robert is sleeping on. I had to shoot these poses over the course of two Sim nights. The second night, Robert stubbornly refused to sleep on the right side of the bed. Let's just pretend he rolls around a lot. *glares at Robert*

Argh, the more I look at my pictures, the more I feel the need to upgrade my laptop. I hope they don't detract from the story.