Post by dianahawthorne on Mar 11, 2009 23:12:43 GMT -5
The Revelation
Sequel to my fic “The End”.
She had been dead for two weeks before her will was read. They had all gathered in her solicitor’s office – Teddy Lloyd and his wife Deirdre, Gordon Lowther and Heather Lockhart Lowther, Jenny Gray, Monica Maclaren, and Sandy Stranger.
“Thank you all for coming,” Jean’s solicitor, Mr. Themis, said once they had seated themselves. He opened up the envelope that contained her will, which was dated a week before Sandy had betrayed her – dated the day after Jean had discovered Gordon’s engagement to Heather Lockhart.
“I, Jean Brodie, being of sound mind, do hereby make, publish, and declare this to be my Last Will and Testament, hereby expressly revoking all wills and codicils heretofore made by me.
To Teddy Lloyd, I leave all my worldly possessions and monies, except for the items listed below.
To Jenny Gray, I leave you my collection of Botticelli prints.
To Monica Maclaren, I leave you my first edition of Alfred Tennyson poems.
To Gordon Lowther, I leave you the letters you wrote to me during our courtship.
To Heather Lockhart Lowther, I leave you my sapphire necklace, earrings, and bracelet; gifts from Gordon during our courtship.
And to Sandy Stranger, I leave you the diary I kept from the end of 1918 until 1920 – the diary I kept during my pregnancy. Sandy, my dearest, I am so sorry that I never told you, but you were my daughter.”
“What?” Sandy cried out. The rest of the room, except Mr. Themis, were shocked.
Mr. Themis cleared his throat and continued. “I discovered I was pregnant two weeks before Hugh died, and when he was killed, I realised that I could not keep you. I was only eighteen, and unmarried. After you were born, I gave you up to your parents, who have raised you incredibly well. I will always be grateful to them. I became a teacher and taught at Marcia Blaine, so that I could be near to you – I wanted to see you grow. And I was lucky enough to be such a part of your life – something that I had not even dreamt of. I love you, my dearest, and I’m sorry that it is only after my death that you learn that I am your mother.”
Sandy began to cry. “I betrayed my mother,” she sobbed. Jenny wrapped an arm around her while Monica handed her a handkerchief. Teddy and Gordon sat there in shock.
“May I continue?” the solicitor asked when Sandy’s sobs had abated somewhat. She nodded. “I have here letters addressed to some of you from Miss Brodie,” he said, handing them out. Everyone but Deirdre and Heather received a letter. He folded the will and replaced it in her file.
“Is that it?” Teddy asked, speaking for the first time.
“Yes, it is,” Mr. Themis replied. “I’ve settled Miss Brodie’s accounts and transferred her monetary assets into your bank account. Here are the keys,” the solicitor said, producing them, “to her flat, which is now in your possession.”
Teddy nodded and stood up while the solicitor distributed the items specially bequeathed by Jean to Sandy, Heather, Gordon, Monica, and Jenny. He and Deirdre nodded and left the solicitor’s office.
“You loved her, didn’t you?” Deirdre asked him as they walked slowly back to their house, only a few blocks away.
Teddy nodded – he didn’t trust himself to speak.
“Did you have an affair with her?” Deirdre pressed.
“One night,” he said quietly, looking down at the pavement. “One night seven years ago.”
“That’s it?” Deirdre said, surprised. She had thought that he would have kept up an affair with her for much, much longer.
Teddy nodded again. “I’d left her the morning after, you see,” he said. He didn’t know why he was telling her this. “To come back to you and the children. And she never forgave me for it – I never forgave myself for it, to tell you the truth.”
“I see,” Deirdre said softly. They finished their walk in silence.
Gordon and Heather drove back to their estate at Cramond.
“You did love her, didn’t you?” she asked him, breaking the silence that had fallen over them.
“Yes, I did,” he replied.
“Then why did you marry me instead?”
“Because I love you, too,” he said. “I knew that I could never live with her and be happy – but I know that we will be happy together.”
“Did you sleep with her?”
“Yes,” he replied simply.
“Oh,” Heather replied. They never talked about his relationship with Jean again.
Sandy was distraught. Jenny and Monica, though they were shocked to learn that Jean had been Sandy’s mother and to learn that Sandy had betrayed her, walked her back to her house. Sandy then confronted her parents.
“My mother is dead,” Sandy said. “Why didn’t you tell me I was adopted?”
“We didn’t think that you’d ever need to know,” Sandy’s mother – well, adopted mother – said. “We didn’t think that she’d die so soon.”
“It was my fault that she died!” Sandy sobbed. “She killed herself because I told Miss Mackay that she had been teaching fascism! I cost her the job that she loved more than anything, and she killed herself!”
Sandy’s adopted parents sat there in shock, watching as Sandy ran up the stairs to her room.
Jenny walked through the Greyfriers Kirkyard on her way home, remembering that time so many years ago when Miss Brodie had taken them to the Gallery and then through the Old Town of Edinburgh. They had run into Mr. Lloyd, a meeting she now suspected was not coincidental – she suspected that he had seen them walking and had rushed down to join them.
They had been in love, Jenny knew – that was why every portrait he painted was really of her. Jenny’s heart ached for Jean – she had renounced his love, and Jenny did not know why.
They used to giggle about the thought of Miss Brodie and Mr. Lloyd together, and then later Mr. Lowther and Miss Brodie, but she knew now that there was nothing funny about it. It had been a real renunciation, though they had never believed it. But now that she knew that it was true, she cried.
Monica dragged her feet as she walked home, her mind filled with memories of Jean Brodie. She had been a magnificent woman, a wonderful teacher, a woman who had encouraged her to pursue a career in the theatre. She had taught her so much – not necessarily in the way of hard knowledge, but in the ways of life.
She could not believe that she was dead – she never would have believed that Jean would kill herself. But she had also never believed she would be betrayed – especially not by Sandy.
Though she had been a member of the Brodie set, she had not been one of Jean’s two favourites – those had been Jenny and Sandy. And Sandy had betrayed her... had betrayed her own mother.
Nothing would ever be the same.
Sequel to my fic “The End”.
She had been dead for two weeks before her will was read. They had all gathered in her solicitor’s office – Teddy Lloyd and his wife Deirdre, Gordon Lowther and Heather Lockhart Lowther, Jenny Gray, Monica Maclaren, and Sandy Stranger.
“Thank you all for coming,” Jean’s solicitor, Mr. Themis, said once they had seated themselves. He opened up the envelope that contained her will, which was dated a week before Sandy had betrayed her – dated the day after Jean had discovered Gordon’s engagement to Heather Lockhart.
“I, Jean Brodie, being of sound mind, do hereby make, publish, and declare this to be my Last Will and Testament, hereby expressly revoking all wills and codicils heretofore made by me.
To Teddy Lloyd, I leave all my worldly possessions and monies, except for the items listed below.
To Jenny Gray, I leave you my collection of Botticelli prints.
To Monica Maclaren, I leave you my first edition of Alfred Tennyson poems.
To Gordon Lowther, I leave you the letters you wrote to me during our courtship.
To Heather Lockhart Lowther, I leave you my sapphire necklace, earrings, and bracelet; gifts from Gordon during our courtship.
And to Sandy Stranger, I leave you the diary I kept from the end of 1918 until 1920 – the diary I kept during my pregnancy. Sandy, my dearest, I am so sorry that I never told you, but you were my daughter.”
“What?” Sandy cried out. The rest of the room, except Mr. Themis, were shocked.
Mr. Themis cleared his throat and continued. “I discovered I was pregnant two weeks before Hugh died, and when he was killed, I realised that I could not keep you. I was only eighteen, and unmarried. After you were born, I gave you up to your parents, who have raised you incredibly well. I will always be grateful to them. I became a teacher and taught at Marcia Blaine, so that I could be near to you – I wanted to see you grow. And I was lucky enough to be such a part of your life – something that I had not even dreamt of. I love you, my dearest, and I’m sorry that it is only after my death that you learn that I am your mother.”
Sandy began to cry. “I betrayed my mother,” she sobbed. Jenny wrapped an arm around her while Monica handed her a handkerchief. Teddy and Gordon sat there in shock.
“May I continue?” the solicitor asked when Sandy’s sobs had abated somewhat. She nodded. “I have here letters addressed to some of you from Miss Brodie,” he said, handing them out. Everyone but Deirdre and Heather received a letter. He folded the will and replaced it in her file.
“Is that it?” Teddy asked, speaking for the first time.
“Yes, it is,” Mr. Themis replied. “I’ve settled Miss Brodie’s accounts and transferred her monetary assets into your bank account. Here are the keys,” the solicitor said, producing them, “to her flat, which is now in your possession.”
Teddy nodded and stood up while the solicitor distributed the items specially bequeathed by Jean to Sandy, Heather, Gordon, Monica, and Jenny. He and Deirdre nodded and left the solicitor’s office.
“You loved her, didn’t you?” Deirdre asked him as they walked slowly back to their house, only a few blocks away.
Teddy nodded – he didn’t trust himself to speak.
“Did you have an affair with her?” Deirdre pressed.
“One night,” he said quietly, looking down at the pavement. “One night seven years ago.”
“That’s it?” Deirdre said, surprised. She had thought that he would have kept up an affair with her for much, much longer.
Teddy nodded again. “I’d left her the morning after, you see,” he said. He didn’t know why he was telling her this. “To come back to you and the children. And she never forgave me for it – I never forgave myself for it, to tell you the truth.”
“I see,” Deirdre said softly. They finished their walk in silence.
Gordon and Heather drove back to their estate at Cramond.
“You did love her, didn’t you?” she asked him, breaking the silence that had fallen over them.
“Yes, I did,” he replied.
“Then why did you marry me instead?”
“Because I love you, too,” he said. “I knew that I could never live with her and be happy – but I know that we will be happy together.”
“Did you sleep with her?”
“Yes,” he replied simply.
“Oh,” Heather replied. They never talked about his relationship with Jean again.
Sandy was distraught. Jenny and Monica, though they were shocked to learn that Jean had been Sandy’s mother and to learn that Sandy had betrayed her, walked her back to her house. Sandy then confronted her parents.
“My mother is dead,” Sandy said. “Why didn’t you tell me I was adopted?”
“We didn’t think that you’d ever need to know,” Sandy’s mother – well, adopted mother – said. “We didn’t think that she’d die so soon.”
“It was my fault that she died!” Sandy sobbed. “She killed herself because I told Miss Mackay that she had been teaching fascism! I cost her the job that she loved more than anything, and she killed herself!”
Sandy’s adopted parents sat there in shock, watching as Sandy ran up the stairs to her room.
Jenny walked through the Greyfriers Kirkyard on her way home, remembering that time so many years ago when Miss Brodie had taken them to the Gallery and then through the Old Town of Edinburgh. They had run into Mr. Lloyd, a meeting she now suspected was not coincidental – she suspected that he had seen them walking and had rushed down to join them.
They had been in love, Jenny knew – that was why every portrait he painted was really of her. Jenny’s heart ached for Jean – she had renounced his love, and Jenny did not know why.
They used to giggle about the thought of Miss Brodie and Mr. Lloyd together, and then later Mr. Lowther and Miss Brodie, but she knew now that there was nothing funny about it. It had been a real renunciation, though they had never believed it. But now that she knew that it was true, she cried.
Monica dragged her feet as she walked home, her mind filled with memories of Jean Brodie. She had been a magnificent woman, a wonderful teacher, a woman who had encouraged her to pursue a career in the theatre. She had taught her so much – not necessarily in the way of hard knowledge, but in the ways of life.
She could not believe that she was dead – she never would have believed that Jean would kill herself. But she had also never believed she would be betrayed – especially not by Sandy.
Though she had been a member of the Brodie set, she had not been one of Jean’s two favourites – those had been Jenny and Sandy. And Sandy had betrayed her... had betrayed her own mother.
Nothing would ever be the same.
