Even when she did stupid things like stay in her house for 18 years, crying her eyes out alone in a dark basement room for a scoundrel husband who wasn't even dead, I respected Elizabeth Collins Stoddard because she always had a quiet dignity that put me in awe.
But in this situation, despite knowing that a curse of constantly thinking of nothing but her own death has driven her to Wyndcliffe, any longsuffering compassion for a person with mental illness fails me. When Barnabas leaves to battle Tom Jennings and Liz is left alone to "watch over" a helpless Julia, the most awful, unfeeling prouncements are made by Liz. I'm sorry, but I'm ashamed to admit that I want to reach into my TV and bitch-slap the morose matriarch as she utters negative observation after negative observation, while still retaining that authoritive (snobbish) tone of New England "old money".
"She's dead! It's too late to call a doctor," she commands Barnabas and Willie earlier. Later, in Josette's room, she sits by Julia with such comforting words as "They left you alone to die. But I forgive you, even though you helped Roger prepare my coffin. And now, you're dying. You will be buried before I am." Can you imagine being Julia, lying there dying with such condescending assertions being made over you? If I were Julia, I would reach out and grab Liz's perfect hair and say, "Listen you! I'M the doctor, and you're the looney! I'M the one who's paid to pronounce people dead, honey. I don't remember seeing any doctor's license hanging on the wall with all those haughty-taughty ancestors of yours. So, just shut your pie-hole and leave me in peace!"
Sorry, folks. I really do love Liz. But, in sympathy for Julia, Liz really is too much to take in this situation!
SDP