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“Well, I got pretty plastered last night. Threw myself a big old pity party, and Georgie called me on it.”
“Is this turning into a pattern? The drinking? Do I need to be concerned?”
“No. The hangover I had this morning is enough of a deterrent, believe me.” Will paused, and decided to confide what he’d been thinking about to his friend. “I need to talk to someone, Charles. A professional. I mean, I know it’s not going to solve everything, but it’s a start, right?”
“Of course it is.”
“I’ve already made some calls. I was up early, trying to hold down my coffee and thinking of how I could make it up to Elizabeth. She admitted she still loves me. That’s something, but it doesn’t matter if I don’t do the work I need to do to fix myself.”
“Okay,” Charles responded quietly. “That’s—that’s great, that you’ve realized that. But you have to understand—and I’m not saying this to bring you down—but just because you’re going to work on things and talk to someone, it doesn't mean you're going to get what you want in the end. It might not work out that way.”
“I know that. I know I fucked up. We've had this discussion.”
“Webothfucked up. I sat with you that day, talking about those pictures and trying to figure out what happened.”
“You're not the one in love with Elizabeth who should have known better. But regardless of that, Istillneed to do the work. I want to be a better man for Elizabeth, if she’ll ever have me again…but I just want to be a better man, period. I need to figure myself out, and I can’t do it alone.”
“I’m here for you, man. Whatever you need.”
“Thanks. Um, there’s another reason for my call. I have a question, and I’d like you to answer it without asking any questions. What’s the statute of limitations in Massachusetts for rape?”
“Fifteen years. Why, are you—?”
“Just the answer. No questions.”
“Okay, well... If you need my help, let me know.”
They agreed to speak later in the week, and Will set his phone on the desk. He stared at the large framed painting on the wall that hid his safe, and with a sigh, he walked over to it, moved the artwork aside, and entered the electronic combination on the lock. It beeped three times, and he heard the telltale click as the lock released. He opened the door and saw the large yellow envelope inside, surrounded by other important documents. He removed it, returned to his desk, and stared at it for a long moment.
With as much indifference as he could muster, he removed the photos and looked at them, willing his eyes to stay away from his sister and focus only on the men in the picture. Yes, the faces were blacked out, but he knew one of them was Wickham. The other man seemed mostly to be a bystander; there were no pictures of him near Georgiana. Will couldn't see his face, but could see his hair, and in one picture, the man was in profile, giving Will a glimpse of an ear, a sparse sideburn, and part of a cheek where the blackout hadn't covered completely.
He’d always focused more on Wickham, as he’d clearly been the aggressor. But now he zeroed in on the mystery man, his eyes repeatedly scanning each picture, closely examining that glimpse of face, the thinning hair, and the posture. Suddenly the hair on the back of his neck stood up, and his breath froze in his lungs as a snippet of conversation he'd had with Elizabeth came rushing into his head at an alarming speed.
He's kind of strange...maybe it's because he's Bill's cousin.
She’d been talking about Wickham, when he’d come to her house with Charlotte to use the darkroom, but Will hadn’t known that back then.
Could it be?
He looked at the pictures again. Will had seen him at many softball games, but Collins had never bothered them much… And now, Will understood why.
It's him. All this time, it’s been Bill Collins.
* * *
Elizabeth beganthe painstaking task of removing the photos from the walls of her darkroom; there was no way she would take a chance on losing them. So many of them were of Will, capturing his many moods and expressions. Serious in some, carefree and happy in others…and downright silly in a few, crossing his eyes, sticking out his tongue… She’d taken several while he was sleeping one morning, and those were her very favorite. There were some she’d taken of both of them using the timer on her camera. Pictures of them smiling, hugging, laughing, kissing... Pictures of love.
Those were the ones she took down first; the hardest to look athadto be the first to go into the box. After that were pictures of Jane, some of Jane with Charles, a few of Georgiana, Charlotte, her parents, her aunt and uncle, the Vineyard... There were even some of Lydia. Then there were all the random pictures she treasured: strangers she’d met while on her photography jaunts, coworkers, landscape and ocean pictures, the softball team, local wildlife...
Once again, she remembered Will telling her that everyone has a soundtrack to their life. He was right, of course, but her life was here, in pictures; she had a photo album.
As she turned toward the farthest wall and removed more pictures, she noticed one that definitely hadn't been hung there by her, and she gasped. It was another lewd picture of George Wickham, partially hidden under other pictures. Her hand rose to her mouth, and she bit back an involuntary sob.
She knew, without question, that he was the one behind the pictures left at her house. Lydia was stupid, but she never would have agreed to leave them. It was all George, and it was clear he’d done it purely for shock value. Will said he’d discovered the pictures in the bottom drawer of her dresser, buried between sweatshirts. George must have assumed they wouldn't be discovered for a long time, and assumed they would be found by her. He must have had similar thoughts about leaving this picture here too; he hid it well enough, and probably figured it would be a long time before Elizabeth took down her collage and discovered it.
She felt a sudden burst of anger at Lydia and knew she couldn't put off speaking to her; her earlier thoughts about the conversation not being a priority suddenly seemed ridiculous.It has to be a priority. She took the photo of George and tucked it away with the others that Will had shown her. They would be destroyed, but not until after she talked to her sister.
Gathering up her cameras and all of her equipment, she packed everything carefully into boxes, and then moved them into the living room. Her cell phone rang, and when she saw it was Georgiana, she hesitated before answering.
