"The two most important days in your life are the day you are born and the day you find out why." Mark Twain

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Chapter Eleven

"What is your grandfather like?" asked Kit. "How does he know so much about politics?"

Olivia shrugged her shoulders. In all the time that she had lived here, she had rarely ever seen her grandfather leave his armchair, let alone display in interest in parliament. "I do not know. But he is a dear, dear man. The dearest old man you would ever meet. I do love him very much."

Kit and Olivia climbed the stairs together to find Bernard sitting in his usual armchair, a cup of tea on the table beside him, and today's newspaper in his hands.

Owing to Bernard's increasing deafness, he did not hear them enter the room. Olivia gently tapped her grandfather on the shoulder and then kissed the top of his head.

Bernard craned his neck, and a wide, happy smile spread across his face when he saw it was Olivia that had come to visit him.

"This is a nice surprise," Bernard remarked. He then noticed Kit hovering in the doorway, waiting to be acknowledged before he entered the room. "And who is this?" he asked.

"This is my friend, Kit Kensington, Grandpapa," Olivia introduced. "Kit, this is my grandfather, Bernard Murray, baronet."

Kit smiled nervously as he approached Bernard. He bowed respectfully. "Sir, it is a pleasure to meet you."

"Hello, Kurt," Bernard replied in greeting.

Olivia and Kit exchanged a glance. There was no point in correcting Bernard. It was a miracle that he had heard the 'k' sound. Olivia wondered what her name might have been had Bernard not heard it before his hearing had started to go.

Olivia knelt down beside her grandfather. "Grandpapa, have you any insight on government?" Olivia asked. "Aunt Lorna seemed to think you would."

Bernard's face softened. "Of course you can have a biscuit, darling. There you go." Bernard lifted the tea plate from the table and offered the ginger biscuits to her.

Olivia obliged him and took a biscuit. She then gave one to Kit. "Politics, Grandpapa, politics," she insisted. "Have you any information to offer us?" Olivia noticed a headline in the newspaper that her grandfather had been reading.

Parliament Chaos: MP's Vote on Increasing Grain Cost

"Here, Grandpapa," Olivia urged Bernard to follow her finger as she underlined the word "MP's" with her fingernail.

Bernard read the word, and said, "MP's?"

Olivia nodded, and then pointed at his chest.

Bernard's eyes widened in surprise. "Oh, well I suppose I never did tell you that story. Lorna probably told you about my old days in London, did she?"

Olivia shook her head, exchanging a look of bewilderment with Kit. She had not known that her grandfather had ever spent any time in London. She could not imagine him anywhere other than the chair he was currently occupying.

"Yes, it is true. Your grandfather was once a member of the House of Commons once upon a time."

Olivia sat back on her knees.

"I started with good intentions. I had not the brains for university, but I had the heart for politics, for making changes, you see. I always held those folks in London with high esteem. They were the ones who decided for us. And sometimes those decisions were the wrong ones. I thought I might change them."

Olivia smiled with pride. She loved her dear grandfather, but she now respected him more than ever. Perhaps this was where her ambition had come from? She had inherited her grandfather's wilful spirit.

"My father bought the election for me, of course. I thought nothing of it. It was how things were done. I had my seat in London nonetheless." Olivia's mouth unwillingly opened. Her great-grandfather had bribed Bernard's way into power? "I tried my hardest, dear girl." Bernard gently cupped Olivia's cheek. "I tried to do good. But you must understand that the only thing that matters in London is money, and what you are willing to do with it. A gentleman will make a generous donation and a law will not pass. A lord will buy an MP votes and the costs of living stays up. It was a sad state of affairs. I did not stand for my seat in the next election." Bernard smiled, his blue eyes warming. "Instead I returned to Derbyshire. I married my beloved Jane, and I devoted myself to my family, to being a father to Colin and Lorna."

As much as her mother did not understand or accept Olivia's ambitions in life, Olivia had to believe that part of Ruth's character had to be attributed to these events that had occurred throughout her childhood. Why was Ruth not mentioned in Bernard's efforts to be a more devoted father?

"And grandfather," Bernard added, smiling at Olivia. "I pride myself on being a good grandfather to my sweet Olivia, too. You are always such a good girl."

Olivia put on a false smile. She was grateful that Lorna never told Bernard about her actions. She would not want him to change his opinion of her. She valued few opinions of her character. Bernard's was one of them.

Olivia got to her feet and kissed her grandfather on the forehead. "I love you, Grandpapa. I have to go away for a while, but I will write," she promised. Olivia motioned for Kit to follow her. She noticed Kit looked slightly ashen in his face. She could see his apprehension.

"Enjoy the dance, dear," murmured Bernard as he returned to his newspaper. "Lovely to meet you, Kurt."

"Er, lovely to meet you, too, sir," replied Kit.

Once they were outside, and the door was closed, Kit spoke.

"I don't want to be involved in that corruption, Olivia," he said firmly. "I have a vision, but from what your grandfather said, it sounds as though corruption is inevitable. I thought ... I thought ... people would vote for me because of the kind of life I would be offering them."

"That is where you are naïve, Kit." Lorna joined them outside the sitting room. She had a knowing, yet sympathetic, smile on her face. "Parliament is not divided into Whigs and Tories. Those men, and I am not saying all, but they are there at the pleasure of those who control them. I know if you are intending to take Olivia with you that you share her sense of right and wrong. Those people who would tend to agree with you do not get a vote on election day. Only those whose bank books fit the criteria do. They are the people you need to please. And I am afraid that you will not please them by offering," Lorna shook her head as she tried to think of an example, "schooling for the poor until they are of age. The poor are their workers. If they are in school, then they cannot work. Do you understand me?"

Olivia's heart instantly fell. How had she not thought of that? Had she really been so swept up in the idea of Kit, the People's Man, winning his way into parliament promising education and an equal chance? Yes, yes, she had.

But the idea of rejection was frightening. Rejection was a wound that would never quite heal. It would fester, and then scab, and then something would happen to make it bleed all over again.

What if the people did not like Kit? What if the people rejected her?

"But what if they were compensated?" proposed Kit. "They cannot have young workers, so they may be compensated for proven claims of additional wages needed to pay adults. The government would be repaid in the taxes earned by a person with a better education in the end, anyway."

Lorna's eyebrows rose. "Well, I stand corrected. Now you are thinking like a politician."

"I won't be controlled, Miss Murray," Kit said adamantly. "I won't be elected at the behest of a benefactor who wishes to influence my decisions. I want to make a difference to the lives of the underprivileged, and perhaps that may be a naïve goal for and MP, but I have to try."

Perhaps Olivia had a lot to learn, too. It seemed, in order to get her way, she would have to learn the art of compromise. She smiled proudly at Kit. He seemed to have the hang of it already. They would teach each other.

As he spoke to Lorna, Kit had such a look of determination on his face. Olivia decided there was nothing more attractive in a man ... in a friend, she mentally corrected ... than one who was speaking of his passions.

"Well, then, I wish you luck," said Lorna. Her eyes then went to Olivia. They softened as he bottom lip trembled. "Olivia..."

Olivia went to her aunt and hugged her tightly. "It is not goodbye forever, Aunt Lorna," she promised. "I will come back," Her eyes flicked to Kit who was watching their embrace, "with a newly elected MP, God willing."

"I still think that you ought to have a chaperone, but nothing I ever say seems to change your stubborn mind," Lorna said as she pulled away. "I pray you will not lose your sense of justice, Olivia. It is a very fine part of your character," she praised. "Possibly my favourite, thought it may turn my hair grey."

Olivia felt her cheeks warming. "I won't," she promised. Olivia's sense of justice flowed through her veins, as though it kept her alive.

"I am entrusting her to you, Kit," Lorna's tone changed to that of a warning. "You must let no harm come to her."

"I am sure it will be quite the other way around, Miss Murray. Olivia will be the one keeping me out of harm's way," Kit offered jokingly, quickly sensing Lorna's seriousness. "I promise. We will keep each other safe."

"I know you may not want to, but perhaps you ought to write to your mother," Lorna suggested quietly. "Ruth would want to know if you were leaving this house. This is where she sent you, after all."

Olivia sucked in a harsh breath. "Banished more like," she muttered. Olivia could feel her scab, the one that had partially healed, with her aunt's words picking at it, willing it to bleed. "No, Mama would not care one way or the other," Olivia decided.

Lorna looked at Olivia sadly. "If she writes me, then I must tell her."

Olivia sighed. The wound was bleeding again. "Seeing as she has not uttered a word since I arrived here then I find that highly unlikely." It seemed ridiculous, really. Olivia had never felt overwhelming maternal love from Ruth. She had never felt lukewarm love from Ruth. How could this affect her so, and after all this time?

"Well, you both ought to get some rest. You have quite the journey ahead of your tomorrow." Lorna offered Olivia one last sympathetic glance before moving on down the hallway.

Olivia then dared to look up at Kit after that display. She could tell that Kit wanted to ask her if she was alright, but was not sure if it was his place.

"I told you I would tell you about it in Hertfordshire," she reminded him, "after your win."

Kit accepted that with a nod. "You are still so certain we can do this?"

Olivia nodded. "Absolutely. My belief has never wavered, just my initial thoughts on how simple this would be. But Aunt Lorna believes you have a head for politics, and so do I."

Kit grinned. "Now we have to convince everyone else."   

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Well, it's been a minute, hasn't it? I hope you all are still happy to continue reading this story. I'm sorry it's been so long. 

A little bit has happened to me since last we spoke. I went to Europe! That was a pretty big deal. I walked through cities I never thought I would see. I tasted some of the most amazing food (creme brulee in Lyon without a doubt the best). I saw scenery I could not even describe to you. I saw snow for the first time. I drank a hot chocolate on top of the world in the Swiss Alps. I witnessed Mozart in Vienna. I gambled in Monte Carlo. I saw the bluest of seas in Nice. I tried beer in a beerhall in Munich. I witnessed passionate flamenco in Barcelona. I was serenaded by an opera singer in Florence. I tossed two coins in the Trevi Fountain and wished for love. I saw the Mona Lisa. I took sneaky photos of Michaelangelo's masterpiece in the Sistine Chapel. I climbed the Arc de Triomphe and looked over the wonder that is Paris. I walked along the Berlin Wall. I stood over Hitler's bunker. I stood on the Colosseum floor where the gladiator's once stood. I put my hand in the Mouth of Truth just like Audrey Hepburn. I "lived" in London for a week, taking the tube and giving advice on which trains to take to other tourists because I became such a pro.  

I walked 25,000 steps a day to see Europe in just a month.

It was such a long flight home. Australia really is miles from anything. But we're cool - come visit! I was so glad to land. My mum was waiting for me and we drove home from the airport. 

I was honestly so afraid something might happen to my cat, Lucy, while I was away. I have a friend who went overseas and her cat was hit by a car and her family didn't tell her until she got home because they didn't want to ruin her trip. 

When I walked in the door and saw her at the top of the stairs waiting for me, I literally dumped my stuff, and ran up to give her the biggest cuddle. 

I was jetlagged af for the next few days. Lucy and I just hung out on the couch, watching TV and falling asleep at weird hours. But four days after I got home, she started to tell us she wasn't okay. 

We took her to the vet five times over a short period, trying to figure out what was wrong with her. The vets would tell us she was okay, and then she would go downhill. We ended up in emergency twice, before she was transferred to another animal hospital. 

They seemed optimistic when we left her. I knelt down on the ground to be eye level with her, and her tired eyes moved to me, and I could tell she was seeing me. I told her I loved her and I would see her the next day. 

We celebrated my brother's birthday that night, and I went to bed. My mum came in my room at about 11:30pm in tears telling me that Lucy had gone into cardiac arrest and they had tried CPR on her for 30 minutes but there was no saving her. 

My baby died. I haven't cried in a while but this is making me sob. I hope I don't wake anyone up. 

But this is good for me. I like writing down what is going on in my head in these moments. The epilogue of "Becoming Jane" is the chapter I wrote shortly after my cat, Bella, died. The emotions are so real, and sometimes I go back and read that just to reminisce and feel. 

When I opened up Word tonight it told me the last date/time that I had this document open. I was halfway through this chapter when Lucy made a noise that made me stop writing and pay attention to her. I haven't continued until now. 

I know some of you may be thinking, "For god's sake, she's a cat, not a person, pull yourself together," and that's okay. But I loved Lucy fiercely, and I am not ashamed of it. I feel privileged to have loved my girl for so long, and to have received her love and trust in return.

I miss her. The house isn't the same without her. I was cutting up chicken tonight for dinner and went to drop some on the ground for her because I'm so used to her being at my feet when I'm cooking and she wasn't there. It's little things like that that get you. 

The picture I've uploaded is my favourite photo of her. I took photos of her like a crazy person, but this is my baby, sleeping peacefully without a care in the world.

So that's why I've been away. I had the experience of my life in Europe, I had four days at home with my baby, and then I had some time mourning her. 

Rest peacefully, my beautiful Lucy. I love you forever. 

November 17, 2007 - February 6, 2018.