"Life tried to crush her, but only succeeded in creating a diamond." John Mark Green

----

XXX.

"I'm worried out of my mind." Jem discarded his fork, which rather dramatically cascaded to the floor of Peter and Belle's dining room with a clatter of noise. Jem winced, hoping that the children, who were sleeping not far from them in the nursery, would not awaken. "You should have seen her last night. You should have seen her today!"

Jack and Claire had joined Jem in dining with Peter and Belle that evening, and all had become well versed in Belle's theory. Jem had about confirmed it without any concrete evidence of his own save for knowing Cressie better than anyone.

"But what did she say?" Peter pressed.

"Nothing outwardly," Jem huffed. "That is my point. It is in her looks. You all remember her from five years ago, don't you? I know Belle at least does. Forget her thin appearance, one need only see in her eyes that there is no life in her."

"I confess I did not recognise her until I heard her young charge refer to her by name," Claire added. "She was, indeed, very gaunt. But I do recall her spirited nature. Don't you, Jack? She had a rather wicked way with her mother."

Jack sheepishly shook his head. "I have probably met several dozen young ladies since then so I must admit that my memory of the girl is rather foggy. But the lady last night was very reserved and skittish, almost like a doe who'd given up before a hunter."

"How many women you have occasion to meet in your business, dear," Claire said nonchalantly as she took a sip from her wine glass. Jack appeared ready to defend himself before Claire winked at him, setting him at ease. Everyone knew that Jack was a champion of women writers.

"Can we please focus?" Jem begged, reclaiming the attention of his siblings and siblings-in-law. "Won't you trust me? I saw her in there briefly, in her eyes I mean. It was as though her body was a prison and she was trapped inside. When I knew Cressie, there was never a girl more filled with life and ambition. She liked to run to get places faster and she dreamed of seeing the ocean!" Jem cried with exasperation. "Please. Something is happening, or has happened, and I don't know what to do. What am I allowed to do? What is appropriate? How can I ever speak to her?"

Both couples exchanged glances of sympathy, but nobody offered Jem any words of wisdom for several moments. Jem was so panicked that he was panting, his hands balled into fists atop the table near where he had abandoned his supper.

"Jem, I do not know if there is anything you can do," Jack said quietly. "Cressie is not a distressed maiden, but a married lady. A lady, I might add, who now belongs to a very rich and influential man."

"She doesn't belong to anyone," Jem snapped back with frustration. "What sort of idea is that? Do you consider Claire your property? Do you consider it of Belle?" he charged Jack and Peter both.

"Of course not," Jack replied immediately, his voice firm as he took Claire's hand, holding it between their place settings.

"Jem, you know exactly my position on such a notion of human ownership," added Peter tensely. Belle had reached out to him as well.

"I would never profess to own my wife, to be her keeper or her master," Jack continued. "I would never control her, and should she decide to pack up and leave me tomorrow, she would be free to do so." Jem knew that Jack was speaking theoretically for the benefit of his point, but he could see a flash of pain and fear in his eyes as the words escaped his mouth. Jack did not appear to be able to stomach even the idea of Claire leaving him.

Claire rose from her chair and came to stand behind Jack's, placing her hands on his shoulders reassuringly. Jack reached back with both of his hands and collected hers tightly.

"But," he continued, "in the eyes of the law, Claire belongs to me. In the eyes of the law, Cressie belongs to her husband as well. We may not like it, but that is the way marriage works. One simply must pray that they manage to forge a match that is at least based on mutual respect, let alone affection."

"I understand that," replied Jem, "I truly do. But what is clear is that something has happened to Cressie." Sighing, he admitted, "Of course, I cannot confirm that it is the fault of her husband. That is only my assumption. But what else could it be? She would not be the first woman to be ill-treated by her husband!"

His exclamation made Belle flinch, and Jem bit down on his tongue hard. He only released it when he tasted blood. But as his eyes met with the golden irises of Belle, Jem's suspicions were as set as stone. For a brief moment, the compassionate and kind Belle that they had all come to know and love had vanished, and in her place, Jem saw a ghost. In her eyes were her demons, and Cressie appeared exactly the same.

Jem felt a considerable pang of guilt for his outburst being responsible for taking Belle back to a horrid and unthinkable time in her life. While he had never heard the tale from Belle's lips, the papers had covered it quite comprehensibly. He was only glad that she was now under the protection of his brother and was now able to live a fulfilling life.

Cressie, however, was most likely still in the midst of her terror.

"Belle, forgive me," Jem murmured apologetically.

Peter made a move as though he was going to escort Belle from the dining room, but Belle shook her head. "No, I am alright," she assured him quietly. Belle looked back to Jem, and she offered him a sad sort of smile. "I shared my suspicions, my fears with you, Jem, because I thought as you do. I feel a sense of responsibility to help people, women especially, where I can. When I saw Cressie in my shop that day, I saw myself. Women who have suffered at the hands of a man carry that burden with them every day. Even when he is not present, that man can have a way of choking the life out of us, of haunting us and destroying us in ways we never thought imaginable." Belle swallowed loudly as her eyes became glassy. She took a shaky breath. "I believe that Cressie needs help, and I believe that she is too frightened to ask for it."

Belle's reality helped the party to come to the mutual agreement that something had to be done to ascertain Cressie's safety, even if nothing could be done to intervene with the fact that she was married.

Jem, however, was not above snatching her away in the middle of the night and escaping to the Continent if it was discovered she was being mistreated by her husband, but he had not shared that plan with his family.

"How does Jem realistically go about speaking to Cressie again?" Peter asked with a furrowed brow. "He cannot call upon her as though she were a deb."

"Well, he could call upon the niece," Jack jokingly suggested. "If my eyes were not mistaken, I would have thought that the young Miss Delaney was rather taken with our Jem."

Jem could awkwardly attest to Jack's amused insinuation. He had sat through a conversation with Miss Delaney that very afternoon completely unintentionally. Miss Delaney had innocently presumed that Jem had been there to call upon her as though he were a suitor.

He supposed that would have been a very convenient way to meet with Cressie again. Was his determination to help Cressie greater than his conscience?

Claire seemed to answer this question for him. "I rather think Alex and Susanna would have something to say about such deceptive charades," she added in a displeased tone. "I will call upon Cressie tomorrow, and Jem can escort me. I was the hostess of the ball. Really, I should have called upon her today, but I was neglectful. I will distract Miss Delaney and you will have your chance to speak with Cressie again, Jem."

***

Jem's nieces, Jackie and Maria, held onto one hand each as they approached the front door of Cressie's London home. He was glad for the hands of the girls, as they helped to calm him. Certainly, no butler would have admitted him were he has outwardly frazzled as he was feeling inside.

"Best behaviour, girls. Please keep your dresses this way for at least an hour," Claire instructed her daughters as the door was opened for them by the Delaney butler. Claire smiled at the servant as she entered the foyer, Jem and the girls following her.

Jackie and Maria were both dressed in white summer dresses with matching bonnets. Jem could only imagine what colour his clothing would have ended up were he wearing white shirts and breeches at their age.

"Good morning," Claire greeted the butler. "We have come to call upon your mistress and her charge."

"Yes, ma'am," the butler said, bowing his head respectfully. "Miss Delaney is currently indisposed, but I shall alert the mistress. Whom shall I announce has come to call?"

"Lady Claire Beresford, Miss Beresford, Miss Maria Beresford, and Mr Denham," replied Claire.

The butler showed them to a sitting parlour in a hallway off the foyer to wait and promised a servant would attend them shortly with tea and refreshments.

Jackie and Maria abandoned Jem and ran over to pounce on the fine sofas, to which their mother immediately scolded them for having their feet on the furniture. The girls were occupied shortly thereafter when a housemaid arrived with a tea tray filled with sweet biscuits.

Five minutes after the tea service had been laid, the door to the sitting room opened once more by the butler, and Cressie entered alone.

She was dressed immaculately, wearing a gown the colour of rosemary that fitted her thin frame perfectly. The neckline highlighted the obvious protrusions of her sternum and collarbones. She was beautiful. She would always be beautiful to Jem, but she was not the beauty he had known. Today, she appeared as though she had not slept. There were dark shadows underneath her brown eyes, amplified by the pale, ashen transparency of her skin.

"G-good morning to you all," Cressie greeted formally as both Jem and Claire stood to come towards her. "We were not expecting you." Her eyes avoided him, and instead focussed directly on Claire.

"I hope we are not intruding," Claire said regretfully. Jem would not have cared if they were. "I imagine Miss Delaney is experiencing a bevy of callers today."

A forced smile tugged at Cressie's lips. "Oh, yes," she confirmed. "She is entertaining Mr Avery as we speak. My maid is acting as chaperone so that I could greet you. Zara will be along ... if it is she whom you desired to meet." Again, she did not meet Jem's eye, but that comment had been directed at him, Jem was certain.

Did Cressie really think him so fickle? Did she really imagine that he would come to call upon her charge when she was right there possessing everything he wanted?

"Of course, we would be glad to meet with Miss Delaney again, but our purpose for coming here this morning was to ask after you, Mrs Delaney," Claire replied, appearing to struggle with addressing Cressie as such.

Jem, likewise, wanted to choke every time he heard them.

"Oh, how kind." Cressie sounded formal, dutiful, and forced.

Go away, Claire, Jem willed.

His nieces seemed to read his mind, as behind them a clatter sounded.

One of them, Jem did not know which, but one of the girls had tipped the biscuit dish, sending the biscuits in every direction. They had likely been tussling over who got to have more.

Claire apologised as she flitted to scold her children once more, ordering them to pick up every crumb off of the rug. She did not re-join Cressie and Jem, and Jem presumed that was by design.

They were not alone, but they were out of ear shot.

Cressie's formal pretence appeared to be teetering as she finally brought her brown eyes to meet Jem's. Jem could have sworn that he saw a shiver pass through her.

There she was. She was there. She was frightened, but she was there. Lord, he wanted to protect her. God grant him the power to protect her.

"Cressie, do you feel safe?" he asked her quietly.

She was trembling. Jem yearned to reach out, to pull her into his arms and hold her. But finally, Cressie nodded. "Yes," she whispered. "I feel safe right now."

Jem felt no reassurance by the way that she had worded her answer. She was telling him everything and nothing at the same time. His stomach was in knots as he asked, "Have you felt unsafe at any moment since I saw you last five years ago?"

Cressie's eyes flicked around, her lips parted and wobbled. Jem could see her shoulders rising and falling rapidly. She was panicked and he couldn't hold her. But she tried to calm herself. Jem could see that she was conditioning herself, punishing herself, pushing this emotion away as she tried to regain control, to become the emotionless waif that he had seen at the ball.

"No," Jem said firmly.

Cressie's eyes widened, and he saw her resolve vanish. She was there again in those brown depths. Frightened, terrified, but she was there. She couldn't speak, but Cressie nodded.

And that was all the confirmation Jem needed.

But a moment later, Cressie stepped backwards, bumping into the door in her rush to get away. She was panicking, the emotion that she was determined to hide appeared crippling. Jem felt completely powerless, and that sense of helplessness was not one he wanted to keep.

"Cressie, be calm," Jem said gently. "Please, you can tell me what's happened. You can talk to me." Jem willed himself to remain calm, to remain gentle. He could not outwardly express his desire to hang the man who called himself Cressie's husband.

"I can't talk to you," she hissed. "I can't talk to anyone." She shook. "No one."

Could she not verbalise it? Was it too difficult to say? Jem swallowed the bile that rose in his throat as his thoughts briefly travelled to Belle and what she had endured. The very notion of Cressie experiencing anything remotely similar was unthinkable. It was unconscionable, and yet it was very likely.

"Could you write it down?" Jem quietly suggested. "You could write to me, and I will find a way to help you."

"I can't write," Cressie snapped. She was not curt or rude but panicked. She was still entirely frightened. Her eyes were wide and searching for escape. "They ... they read my letters. Everything I say, I can't ..."

Jem was taken aback by Cressie's abrupt confession. Her letters were read. By whom? Her husband? Someone else? Regardless, such close monitoring of her correspondence was evidence of a wicked controller. It was also evidence of Cressie's isolation. Her tongue was being held, and not by her own hand.

Jem held up his hands before slowly and gently lowering them in a calming motion.

"You need to leave," Cressie urged, her tone terse as she reached for the door handle. "Go away." Her hand rested on the gold hilt, but she did not turn it. Her shoulders were riding and falling rapidly, and her eyes closed as she tried to calm herself. "Go away!" she snarled, forcing her voice through clenched teeth. She was trying to soothe herself back to the blank woman she had become, but she was struggling immensely.

"I will not," Jem said firmly. He longed to hold her, but he knew that he could not.

"Stop it!" Cressie begged, her voice cracking.

"You can't speak of it now, and you cannot write it, I understand," Jem assured her. "I will not force you to tell me anything, though you must know I would hear anything you had to say. But you must also understand that I now know you feel unsafe, and I cannot live with that. I will help you." Just how, Jem did not yet know, but he would.

"You cannot." Cressie's voice was barely audible, but it was just loud enough for Jem to catch it. She did not look at him.

"Take Miss Delaney to Belle's tomorrow afternoon at two o'clock," Jem instructed. "Please."

Cressie stared at the floor, her hand still on the hilt of the doorknob. She was concentrating, the rise and fall of her shoulders slowing as her breathing settled.

"Will you come, Messy Cressie?" Jem probed.

The reminder of their courtship, if it could be called one at all, was enough to collect Cressie's gaze once more. She nodded, only once, but it was enough. She then finally turned the door handle and opened it.

"It seems Miss Delaney is still occupied. Perhaps you can call again another day," she said, louder this time, and for the benefit of the servants.

It made Jem wonder how many of them knew.

----

Hope you enjoyed it!! 

School holidays are over sadly :( Back to work on Monday. I wasn't able to write as much as I wanted, but I was able to get four chapters up instead of my usual one per week. 

I have to share something really just warm and fuzzy with you all. I don't talk about my relationships much, but after the shambles that was my poor heart last year, I've found a good one. *aggressively knocks on wood* anyways, so it was our anniversary today, and we weren't planning on seeing each other as he had to work. But then I got this text telling me he was outside my house! He'd driven all the way (we don't live close) from work after a LONGGG shift to surprise me, I could have cried. 

I also could have cried seeing as I was makeup-free and still wearing my pyjamas at 4pm in the afternoon. But he'd bought my my favourite kind of flowers and my favourite chocolate with strict instructions to take my lactese pills before eating haha. But I was literally just thinking, man, ladies, if he wanted to he would. Don't settle.

Cut to me quickly getting dressed and running a brush through my bed hair and running outside. Gahhhhh it was such a lovely surprise. 

He knows about you guys too ;) I haven't quite shared my secret identity hehe, but he knows I write and I read him your comments. 

I'm happy. It feels different. And I wanted to tell you all because you've all known me for a long, long time. I've grown up with you! 

And who knows, maybe me being happy in a relationship will make me less likely to torture my characters? 

Hahahahahahahahahahhahahahahahahahahah AS IF hahahahahahahaha TORTURE IS THE BEST!!

Vote and comment xxx