by Clara Cody
The ebb and flow to the screams and shouts coming from the East Wing carried on into the night. Stephanie lay awake, staring into the darkness, and judging by the relative silence from the rooms to either side of her, she assumed Maggie and Ann were doing the same. Stephanie was glad she'd stayed in her room instead of taking one of the guest rooms.
Stephanie turned to her side, her locket falling from her chest. She'd forgotten to take it off. Sitting up, she made to pull the locket from around her neck, but something stopped her hand. There was an overwhelming feeling in her chest that told her to leave it. She took the locket in her hand and closed her eyes.
"Mother?" she whispered to the darkness.
The locket grew heavy in her hand. In the center of the room, the air condensed into a blurry, white wisp of smoke. A chill ran down Stephanie's spine. She pulled her sheets up to her neck, letting the locket fall from her hands. The smoke hovering above the floor dissipated as Stephanie's locket lightened the weight on her chest.
Stephanie looked about the room. There was nothing and no sign that there had ever been anything. Her heart pounded violently as she threw the blankets off herself and raced to the center of the room. She waved her hand through the air around her, but there was nothing. She rubbed her fingers together but felt nothing.
Reaching behind her neck, she removed the necklace and held it by the chain in front of her face, considering it. She took a deep breath and closed her hand around the pendant. Again, it seemed to become denser as she gripped it. She closed her eyes.
When she opened them again, the same thick, white smoke was condensing before her. Her stomach sunk and she backed away, bumping into the dresser behind her, but she didn't release the locket. She gripped it tighter.
The fog slowly coalesced and began to take form. Stephanie's hand shook as she reached forward into the smoke. Warm, moist wisps of smoke whirled around her fingers. The smoke felt charged, making her fingers numb. She pulled away again, shaking her tingling hand.
"Mother?" she whispered.
The smoke had taken a blurry human-like form but without any real definition. Quiet sounds emitted from the cloud taking shape, like someone speaking underwater. Stephanie couldn't make the words out. As the cloud thickened, a few words were distinguishable.
"...can't...understand...fight...you must—" In a flash, her mother's face emerged from the smoke and her voice was clear as crystal. "Leave!"
Stephanie fell back against the dresser, releasing the locket to catch herself. It fell to the ground and the mirage disappeared with the impact. In the same moment, a loud clinging sound rang out through the room. Stephanie's heart thumped in her ears. She looked around the room for the source.
Cling.
The sound came from the window. But there was nothing behind the dark glass. Keeping her eyes on the black window, she leaned over, reaching for the doorknob.
A small dark thing rushed the window.
Cling.
Stephanie let go of the door knob and straightened herself, tilting her head. A pebble?
She came to the window and looked down. Outside, reaching his arm back, preparing another launch, was Theodore. Relief settled over her and she exhaled a heavy breath. When he saw her, he waved his hands over his head.
Unlatching the windows, she flung them open. Cold, biting air assaulted her. Without a word, he beckoned her to come down. She nodded and closed the window again.
She dressed hurriedly and tiptoed from the room. Once she was down the stairs from the servant's quarters, she raced through the rest of the house. Between Fredrick and McGregor, she wasn't concerned that anyone might hear her.
She entered the kitchen and gasped, almost fleeing through the same door she'd just entered. Theodore stood behind the closed door, reminding her a little too much of when Fredrick had done the same, watching her. She took a deep breath, crossed the room and opened the door.
Theodore made to come in but Stephanie shook her head and gestured towards the garden.
"Someone might hear," she lied, even as the cries rang out from above.
"What the devil is that?"
"Fredrick," she said, looking away from him. "Victor."
"But what are they doing to the poor man?"
"We're helping him."
"And if the medicine becomes worse than the disease, what then?"
Stephanie sighed. "Why did you come here, Theodore?"
"I came to talk some sense into you."
"At this hour?"
"I couldn't very well knock on the door at tea time, now could I? Not with your watch hound lurking about."
"Charles isn't..." She groaned. It was no use; Theodore and Charles would never attempt to understand the other. "How did you know that was my room?"
"As I told you, I've been watching the house for some time now."
Stephanie stepped back. "It's late." She wrapped her arms around herself. "I should go back."
Theodore straightened, narrowing his eyes. "This is madness. You can't seriously think you can remain here and be a party to this!"
"No," she said, turning away. "Madness would be doing nothing."
"I agree. That's why I've contacted St. Christopher's Insane Asylum."
Stephanie spun around. "You didn't!"
He nodded. "If he is truly dangerous, he belongs in a place where people can—"
Stephanie grabbed her scalp, looking up at the house. "I have to warn them." She started for the house but Theodore's hand clamped around her arm and spun her around.
"No, you can't go back there. Don't you see what they're doing to you?"
She tried to pull away. "Nothing," she cried, "they're doing nothing. Let me go!"
"We'll leave, Stephanie. Together. We'll be together!"
She pulled harder but his grip only tightened. "I can't, Theodore. Please, let me go."
He shook his head, anger building behind his eyes. "No!" He pulled her towards him. For a moment she expected him to kiss her, but he didn't. He spun her around and clamped a hand over her mouth. His other hand went around her waist, clutching her.
She screamed against his hand, but it was little more than a gust of wind. She thrashed and bucked but his strength was too much for her. He lifted her off the ground, holding her to his side and took off into the darkness.
Chapter 40
Eloise
ELOISE SAT, STARING stone-faced at the horror before her eyes. McGregor stood above her husband, yelling his prayers. Coming from his lips, they sounded more like curses. Victor writhed on the bed, spitting his own vulgarities.
She eyed the open bible in McGregor's hand. Not just any bible, of course. No, McGregor had to go all the way to Romania for this specific bible. Eloise didn't question him. Whatever you need, she'd said.
McGregor shouted, holding his palm against Victor's forehead. Both men were hoarse from screaming. Sweat poured down both of their heads. Charles paced the floor like a caged panther, cracking his neck, his shoulders, his knuckles.
Eloise was still other than her hand. She'd learned long ago the trick to keeping emotions off her face. She flicked her thumb over her wedding ring, spinning it on her finger. It was easier to keep her feelings on her fingertips, imagining they were small, silly trinkets she could merely fiddle with. That way, her face never moved, never betrayed her.
Suddenly, a frantic banging erupted from the door.
McGregor stopped yelling, his face red and dripping with sweat.
"Hurry! Please, open the door."
Charles was the first to the door, throwing it open. "What is the matter with you, woman? Do you have any idea—"
It was Ann. "Stephanie!" Tears started welling up in her eyes.
Charles's face fell, his eyes bulging. "What about Stephanie?" He grasped the girl by her shoulders.
"Someone took her..." she said, her voice shaking. She pointed down the hallway. "A man. In the garden, dragged her off."
He released her and charged down t
he hallway.
Ann collapsed on the floor, sobs racking her body. Eloise knelt beside her. "Who did you see, Ann?" she asked gently but urgently.
Ann's eyes traveled behind Mrs. Callowell, to the open doorway. She gasped. Eloise turned to see what she was looking at. Victor was laying half off the bed, his head at a strange angle. Dark, puffy circles hung under his eyes, his face gaunt and sallow. He looked like death.
"Go," she said to Ann. "Go back to your room and forget this."
Ann swallowed and nodded her head. "Yes, ma'am."
Stephanie
STEPHANIE CONTINUED to jerk her head and kick at the empty air behind Theodore but to no avail. Her small frame was no match for him and she was exhausted. He carried past alongside the hedged maze and around its corner where his horse stood, waiting.
He set her down so that she faced him, one hand pressing down on her mouth while his other held the back of her head. She felt his hot breath against her face.
"Just stay still—" he whispered.
She jerked her head to the side and bit down on his head with all her strength. He screamed, rearing back and she took off, running. She barely made it past the garden wall when he grabbed her again and dragged her back into the shadows.
"I'm doing this for your own good!"
She screamed through his hand. From his satchel, he pulled a large cloth. He carefully removed his fingers from over her mouth as he forced the cloth inside. She gagged on the coarse, unyielding fabric. She thrashed her head again and tried collapsing to the ground but nothing worked. He held on too tightly. He pulled a longer piece of material out of his satchel and wrapped it around her head, tying it tightly at the back. Her stifled sobs were forced back down her throat by the overwhelming cloth.
"I'm sorry, Stephanie. This is for your own good," he repeated. He went on to bind her hands behind her back.
She realized this hadn't just occurred to him. He'd planned this; he'd been ready when he'd beckoned her from her window.
He jumped onto the horse and pulled her up so that she lay across the saddle in front of him. With a swift kick from Theodore, the horse took off.
Stephanie flailed across the horse's back, her precarious position shifting with each movement. She feared she could fly off at any minute.
A blast rang out in the night air. The horse jerked, rearing up. Theodore released his hold on her to regain control of his steed, letting Stephanie slip from the saddle. Her fall was short and fast, the impact terrible. As she landed, her foot twisted, the full force of her fall jarring her ankle. She cried out, pain flaring up her leg.
In the same moment, the horse fell to the side, its breathing heavy and labored. Theodore pulled his leg out from beneath the horse and stumbled to his feet.
There was shouting behind them. Stephanie pivoted her body so that she could see what was happening.
Charles ran towards them, rifle in hand. He stopped just as he grabbed a hold of Theodore's collar. Charles pulled an arm back and swung. Theodore's head bounced back and he collapsed to the ground, holding his nose.
"Jesus," Charles exclaimed as he knelt down beside Stephanie. Muttering various expletives, he reached around to untie the snug cloth around her head. She gagged and coughed as he pulled the dense fabric from her mouth. He quickly untied her wrists and lumbered back to where Theodore crouched.
Charles kicked him, sending him flying backward. He landed sprawled across the ground. Non-too-gently, Charles turned him over, shouting more expletives at him as he bound his hands. Once he was secure, Charles came back over to Stephanie.
"Are you hurt?" he asked, kneeling down.
"My ankle."
"Can you stand?"
She tested it but fell back, groaning.
"That's all right."
She nodded as she slipped her hand inside his outstretched one. He swiftly but gently hauled her to her feet and wrapped an arm around her waist so that she could lean against him as she hopped. They moved over to Theodore who thrashed on the ground.
"Move it!" Charles shouted as he bent over and pulled him to his feet. "Can you walk?" he asked her gently as he gave Theodore a hard shove forward.
She nodded.
"Good. It's a long walk home."
Indeed, she thought. The manor was a dark, luminous shadow in the distance with one yellow speck of light glimmering.
"I trust we all appreciate the severity of the situation," Eloise said, standing before Theodore, who was gagged and bound to the chair he sat on. "So the question remains: what shall we do with him?"
"We can't very well let him go," Charles said, his arms crossed as he paced the floor behind Theodore, who, if he hadn't been gagged, would have snarled.
Stephanie sat on the couch, her leg perched up on a chair and several pillows. After Ann fussed and fretted over her for an acceptable length of time, Mrs. Callowell sent her off to get some sleep, promising she'd take proper care of Stephanie.
Stephanie explained what happened and how she came to be tied up and draped across this strange man's horse. She glossed over the particulars of their relationship, that he'd been her source of information and helped her when she'd needed him, and apparently even when she didn't. She recounted the conversation they'd had before the attempted kidnapping, included his remark about having informed the insane asylum. With that, Charles had really started pacing.
"If the authorities find out that he's here, it's over. All of it." Charles fumed, huffing thick torrents of air through his nostrils. "All because of this idiot."
"They won't find him. Either of them." Eloise eyed Theodore, carefully.
The way Eloise watched Theodore as she spoke sent shivers up Stephanie's spine. She shifted forwards slightly on the couch, wincing with the movement.
"So then, how will we proceed?" Charles asked.
"You will take him to the lake house, along with Mr. Bixley here, and Mr. McGregor."
Charles' face fell. He looked ready to protest but bit back his response.
"And I? What will I do?" Stephanie asked.
"You will stay here with me," Eloise said. "The farther away from Fredrick you are, the less trouble he should cause."
Stephanie nodded.
"Charles? Will you take Stephanie to her room? She needs to rest and you should leave as soon as possible."
He turned his gaze to Stephanie, who gave him an encouraging smile. He seemed to take it as permission and hurried to her side, helping her off the couch.
Partially propped up by Charles, she limped towards the doors behind Mrs. Callowell. Theodore began jerking and yelling through his gag. The dim light was sucked out of the room as Mrs. Callowell carried the only two candles.
Stephanie turned back before she exited. Theodore cast a dark silhouette in the center of the room. "I'm sorry, Theodore." She hopped aside, pulling away from Charles and gripped the opposing doors. "It's for your own good."
The doors closed with a bang.
Finally, Charles and Stephanie arrived at her bedroom door. The hallway rumbled with Maggie's snores.
"Are you sure you wouldn't be more comfortable in a guest bedroom?" He gave a sympathetic smirk.
She laughed, shaking her head. "I don't think I could make it another step."
"You know I would carry you."
"Yes, I know. I'll be fine. I promise." She opened the door and he helped her inside.
He looked about the room: from the bed to the wardrobe and back again and rubbed the back of his neck. "Perhaps I should wake Maggie or Ann to help you." He gestured to her clothes.
Stephanie shook her head. "Hand me my nightgown? It's in the wardrobe."
His voice cracked quietly and he cleared his throat before starting again. "Of course." He set the candle down on the nightstand and went to the wardrobe.
For the first time in ages, Stephanie felt completely calm and certain. Her fingers moved down her dress, from one button to the next. She let it fall around her feet.
He
stepped up to her, holding her nightgown in his outstretched hand. He lowered it and stepped up, slipping his hand behind her back. His warm breath kissed her cheeks, his hands falling to the small of her back where they fumbled to unfasten her chemise. The fabric loosened around her. She exhaled a shaking breath.
With a gentle hand, he slipped the chemise from her shoulders and lowered it from her arms. His lips quivered as he inhaled sharply. Taking her wrists in his hands, he lifted them over her head. A final sad, heavy-lidded look graced his face before he pulled the nightgown over her arms and head. He slowly pulled the fabric down over her body to her feet. He straightened again, looking down at her with dark, mournful eyes.
Stephanie recalled the lost, sinking feeling that his stares had always inspired. She didn't have that now; only a distant, tender remorse. She lifted her hand to his cheek.
He smiled at her touch and slipped his hand over hers, closing his eyes, melting into her touch.
The moment lasted for mere seconds and then, he opened his eyes again. Their hands fell back to their sides.
"I'll help you to the bed," he said, taking her by the waist.
She hobbled to the bedside and lowered herself onto the mattress. He righted himself, looking down at her as though memorizing her face and features. He lay his fingers under her chin and bent down to press his lips against her forehead.
She closed her eyes to the tears springing up at the corners. His warm touch left her skin and she listened to his footsteps retreating from her room. When she opened her eyes again, she was alone.
Chapter 41
Stephanie
TWO DAYS PASSED BEFORE the representatives from the asylum came to collect Victor. Stephanie was in the sitting room when she heard the heavy door knocker sound throughout the halls, shattering the silence.
Over the recent days, she'd moved from room to room, her footsteps echoing through the quiet house and hollow halls, sounding their lonesomeness. She attempted to drive away the silence by humming softly but found she simultaneously needed and feared the disturbance. It was a jarring comfort.