Unwept

by Tracy Hickman

  “Jenny, please,” Ellis said over the wind. “We shouldn’t have come.”

  “I won’t hear it,” Jenny said in a voice that would brook no contradiction. “Look at you! Your hands won’t stop shaking and you haven’t been able to stop crying since I found you after returning from the shipwreck.”

  “I’ll be all right,” Ellis said, though she was, in fact, not sure at all. What she knew was that the house they were approaching filled her with a sense both of the familiar and of foreboding. “Just take me home.”

  “You have to see the doctor and that’s all there is to it,” Jenny replied, pulling her toward the gravel-paved drive and the stairs of the enclosed entry. Fitted stone pillars supported the ornate woodwork of the steeply gabled roof, the glass-filled arch of the window over the entry doors dark and staring down on them. Ellis shuddered under its gaze, but Jenny pulled her up the steps, pushing open the dull black doors with their own dark panes of glass and drawing her into its maw.

  Ellis could not stop shaking. Jenny had tried to console her throughout the afternoon, but the vision of the white rose and the thorns staining her stocking with her blood surfaced again and again in her mind. It was real, but it could not be real. She tried again and again to rationalize the presence of the thorny rose in her room, thinking that perhaps someone else had put it there or that in a fit she had brought it herself and forgotten about it … but try as she might her mind could not accept those explanations and she was left with a horror that her mind could not resolve. Either madness was happening about her or she was mad herself … and both divergent realities frightened every part of her being.

  Jenny reached up for the bell chain and pulled it. A distant, muted metallic trilling sounded from somewhere beyond the heavy door. They stood in the vestibule for long moments.

  “Oh, bother!” Jenny did not hesitate. She gripped the latch and pushed through the heavy oak door into the house.

  “Jenny! No!” Ellis begged.

  The entry room beyond was dim. The sudden onset of the thunderclouds outside had prematurely darkened the interior and the lamps had not yet been lit. The ornate parquet floor and the oak wood paneling up to the wainscoting, as well as the wooden coffered ceiling overhead, made the space feel darker still. Two alcoves were set into the far corners of the room, both closed off with doors that led deeper into the house. On Ellis’s left was an ornate oak staircase. A short flight of stairs there led up to a small landing featuring a caller’s sitting area with its own fireplace before the stairs doubled back and rose up through the coffered ceiling to the upper reaches of the house. To Ellis’s right, a large set of double doors were open to a long sitting room and, through an arched opening past a cornered fireplace, what appeared to be the rounded interior wall of a turret.

  “Jenny, please,” Ellis said under her breath. “I’m not well.”

  “Which is precisely why you need to see the doctor,” Jenny affirmed.

  “We haven’t been invited in!” Ellis choked out the words, trying desperately not to start sobbing again.

  “Merrick said we were to come and so we have,” Jenny said. “I’ve been here many times, Ellis, and we are perfectly welcome. I don’t understand why Merrick has not come to greet us. Listen, you wait here for me and I’ll go find the doctor for you.”

  “No,” Ellis breathed. “Please stay with me.”

  “I’ll only be a moment,” Jenny insisted, prying Ellis’s grip off her arm. “Two shakes of a dead lamb’s tail and I’ll be right back with the doctor.”

  Jenny patted Ellis’s hand and then disappeared through the left-hand door at the end of the entry hall, closing the door behind her.

  Ellis drew in a long, shuddering breath. She glanced at the chairs on the landing and considered for a moment availing herself of them but somehow could not bring herself to climb up even those three short steps. She did not want to think about this place or the terrible haunting things that were drifting unbidden into her mind. The rumble of distant thunder beyond the walls made the intermediate silences all the more unbearable.

  She was desperate for something to distract her.

  A flash of lightning stabbed through the windows, casting the parlor into bright relief. Faces stared back at her from paintings on the wall. The stone carvings of griffins on either side of the fireplace glared menacingly at her. They all receded once more into obscurity, but in that moment she could clearly see the round-walled room beyond the parlor, its high windows set into the curve of the thick wall and something beneath them that brought a smile to the corners of her mouth.

  The wall beneath the curving glass panes was lined with bookshelves.

  Ellis sighed inwardly. To lose herself in the words and shutter her thoughts for a time, she thought, would be comfort indeed.

  She stepped quietly into the parlor, the darkness surrounding her. It threatened to close in on her fragile mind, the faces of the dark paintings following her soft steps across the parquet floor, but she kept her eyes fixed on the bookshelves of the library beyond. Each flash of lightning startled her, but she came to accept them as her friend, showing her the way back toward the ordered sanity of the written word.

  The room was a half circle, the inner wall flat while the outer wall followed the curve of the turret. As she entered she noticed a small desk around the side. An oil lamp stood next to a matchbox atop the short bookshelves as they curved beneath the windows. She pulled the glass from the top of the lamp, struck the match on the box and lit the wick. Quickly replacing the glass, she trimmed the lamp and turned with anticipation to the books on the shelves.

  She blinked for a moment, uncertain at what she was seeing. She took up the lamp and moved it closer to the books on the shelves.

  Though the shelves were filled with many volumes of different sizes and bindings, none of them carried any lettering on their spines. No titles, no authors, no identity of any kind.

  Ellis frowned. She reached out with her free hand, pulling a random volume from off the shelf. She set the lamp back down atop the bookshelf and took the book in both hands.

  The cover did not budge. Ellis’s brow furrowed and she turned the book over in her hands.

  Wood. The book was a fake … a piece of wood carved into the likeness of a bound tome.

  Ellis pulled several more of the books from the shelf.

  Each one was a replica made of carved wood.

  Ellis set each of the books back in its place and straightened up. She believed that seeing a person’s library could tell you a great deal about who that person was inside.

  “It would seem,” Ellis muttered to herself, “that our Mr. Merrick is nothing at all.”

  She took up the lamp again from off the top of the shelves. What is taking Jenny so long? Ellis was about to return to the entry hall and at least step back into the vestibule when something on the little desk caught her eye.

  A book, a real book.

  Ellis stepped over to the desk to take a closer look at it. The cover was a pale green with gold embossing in an elegant script. The title shone in her lamplight.

  Gamin.

  “A history, perhaps,” Ellis muttered as she set down the lamp on the desk this time and picked up the book. “I wonder if there is anything in here about me.”

  She started to open the book.

  “What are you doing!” came the sharp, demanding voice behind her.

  Ellis started, dropping the book with a loud thud back onto the desktop.

  “Oh, Mr. Bacchus, I—”

  “What are you doing in my home?” Merrick stepped uncomfortably close to her. “Who invited you to paw through my personal effects?”

  She backed up against the desk as he stared intensely down at her. The legs of the writing table scraped against the wood floor as it shifted. “No one! That is, Jenny brought me here. She is the one who insisted—”

  “Jenny! I might have known,” Merrick grumbled. “Where is she?”

  “I d-d-don�
�t know,” Ellis stammered. “She left me here to find Dr. Carmichael.”

  Merrick took a step back, the lines in his face softening. He wore trousers but was barefoot. Ellis blushed slightly; the man was wearing no shirt under his robe, which he had cinched closed at the waist. He fingered an ornate silver key that flashed as he turned it in his hand. “Of course, Ellis; she is only concerned for you, as are all of us. You gave us quite a fright out at the shipwreck earlier today. As you are here seeking the doctor, I suspect you are not feeling much improved?”

  “Jenny worries perhaps a bit too much,” Ellis said.

  “Well, in any event she’ll not find the doctor here.” Merrick reached for the lantern on the desk. Picking it up, he moved back toward the sitting room. Ellis, not wishing to be left behind in the darkening room, followed him. “The doctor seems to have tired of my company. He has taken up lodgings in Hobson’s Inn just down High Street. It’s not far from here. I can have him brought here if necessary.”

  “No, I’m sure we can manage.” Ellis sat carefully down on a beautifully upholstered couch between the two windows on the west side of the room. Her eyes were becoming accustomed to the light from the lamp. The warm tones illuminating the sitting room and gently banishing the deeper shadows across the faces of the wall portraits. “I wish Jenny would return. I cannot imagine what is keeping her.”

  “The Norembega is a bit labyrinthine, Ellis. A silly girl like Jenny could easily lose her way and find it difficult to get back to where she began.” Merrick set the lamp on the mantel over the cornered fireplace. The library now was entirely cast in shadow. Despite the various gas lamps fixed to the walls about the room, Merrick made no move to light them. “Still, the layout of the house is not unknown to her; I have every confidence that she will find her way back to you … as you have found your way back to us.”

  “We tried the bell, sir,” Ellis explained. “But no one answered.”

  “I was in the carriage house tending to a few things.” Merrick turned toward the mantel, dropping the silver key into a cut-glass bowl that rested there. “Nothing important … just making sure everything was secure from the storm. I’ve only just returned to the house.”

  “It appears to be a most interesting home,” Ellis said as she glanced about the room. She desperately wanted to turn the conversation away from herself. “You keep it immaculately well. The floors are so perfectly polished and without a speck of dust. It is quite impressive, sir.”

  “You approve of it, then?” Merrick asked with a smile.

  “Why, yes, I suppose I do,” Ellis lied. There was something about the home that both drew her and made her distrustful at the same time, like a woman who was too perfect in her appearance. Still, it seemed to Ellis that Merrick Bacchus took considerable pride in his home. “Perhaps you might show me the Norembega of yours on some future visit. I should be glad to take a turn about the grounds and outbuildings as well as the house itself when—”

  “My property is not to be the subject of idle curiosity,” Merrick said, his manner suddenly cold and harsh once more. “As to the grounds, you may look where you like, but stay clear of the carriage house, Ellis. It is dangerous and certainly no place for any young woman.”

  “Why would I want to go into—”

  “Stay out of the carriage house, Ellis!” Merrick repeated, his voice a low growl. “It is absolutely forbidden!”

  “I understand.” Ellis blinked, pulling her wrap closer around her shoulders.

  “Do you understand, Ellis?” Merrick asked, stepping closer to where she sat. She tensed up at his approach. “What do you really understand?”

  He reached down, taking her hands and drawing her up off the couch. His grip was so painful that Ellis gave a sharp cry.

  “You and I were something great once,” Merrick said between clenched teeth. “Why can you not remember that? You left and I never questioned it. You came back and now everything is so … so wrong.”

  “Let go!” Ellis begged, but in her panic she could only manage a whisper.

  “I let you go once. Now that you’re back, I’ll never let you go again,” Merrick snarled, his grip tightening painfully on her hands.

  Ellis tried to pull away. She cried out, “Jenny! Jenny!”

  The sound of quick footsteps approached from the parquet floor of the entry.

  Merrick released Ellis’s hands from his grip in an instant, taking a step back as Ellis fell back to sit once more on the couch.

  “Ellis!” Jenny said as she came around through the parlor doors. “I’ve been simply everywhere looking for Dr. Carmichael, but he isn’t— Oh! Merrick! You’re here at last! Where is the doctor?”

  “He has taken his lodgings up at Hobson’s Inn,” Merrick said, crossing at once to where Jenny stood. He took up her deformed hands in his own, the picture of gentle sympathy. “I’ve been doing my best to keep Ellis calm until you returned. I am only sorry the doctor is not here immediately to help. Shall I go and fetch him for you?”

  “No,” Ellis said at once, standing unsteadily from the couch. “We will not trespass on your hospitality any further. Jenny will see me there.”

  “Are you sure, Jenny?” Merrick said, the picture of kindness and concern. “I should be happy to oblige.”

  “That will not be necessary,” Ellis interjected before Jenny could speak. “As you say, it is not far.”

  Jenny looked somewhat crestfallen but nodded.

  “Then let me speed you on your errand,” Merrick said as he placed his large, strong hand in the middle of each of the ladies’ backs and urged them toward the entry. “You had better hurry. The storm will be breaking soon and I would not want a downpour to add to your troubles. Mention my name to Mrs. Hobson and she will accommodate you for the night should the need arise.”

  “Thank you, Merrick,” Jenny said when they reached the door out to the vestibule. “We all depend upon your kindness.”

  “It’s no trouble at all.” Merrick nodded as he opened the door for them. “And take care, Ellis. We are all most anxious to hear the results of your examination.”

  “Good evening, Mr. Bacchus,” Ellis said quickly as she ducked out the door with Jenny in tow.

  Outside, the wind had picked up as the storm approached, its clouds towering above the Norembega.

  “Perhaps we should go back,” Jenny suggested.

  Ellis fled from the mansion, pretending not to hear her cousin.

  * * *

  Merrick closed the front door of the Norembega and stood silently in the entry hall staring through the glass at the figures retreating from his home.

  “Merrick?”

  He turned to face the staircase leading down from the second floor.

  Alicia was descending the stairs. Her golden hair tumbled down around her shoulders. She wore only a crumpled dress with no stockings.

  “Merrick?” she asked again. “What is it?”

  “Nothing, Alicia.” The master of Gamin cast a disinterested stare in her direction. “Are you certain that is how Ellis looked when she was visited last night?”

  The young woman nodded from where she stood on the stairs.

  “And the way I touched you,” Merrick continued analytically. “It was exactly as Ellis described being touched by the man in the night?”

  “Yes. At least it was as Jenny March described it and she heard it directly from Ellis,” Alicia said without enthusiasm.

  Merrick turned away from her, staring back through the glass of the vestibule.

  “Do you think I did it wrong?” Alicia asked, her brow furrowed.

  “Jenny may be making up tales,” Merrick sniffed.

  “Do you need to touch me again?” Alicia asked.

  “No,” Merrick said at once, his voice heavy. “Go home, Alicia.… I have work to do.”

  14

  DOCTOR’S ORDERS

  “Now, Ellis, there’s no need to worry,” Dr. Carmichael said in soothing tones.

  “No
need to worry?” Ellis tried to steady her hands, gripping the edges of her skirt as she struggled to stay still in the chair. “I’m having these thoughts, these nightmares, these dreams, and then I discover them to be made solid and real in my waking life as well? Why should I not worry, Doctor?”

  “Because there is a simple explanation for all of these, my dear Ellis.” Dr. Carmichael sat across from her, leaning forward earnestly and patiently. They sat together in the sunroom on the south side of Hobson’s Inn, the shutters drawn against the storm outside and the door securely closed. Mrs. Hobson had allowed the doctor use of space as an examination room for his patients until such time as he could find more suitable accommodations in town, although Ellis wondered anew why the doctor had had a falling-out with Merrick to the extent that he had felt it necessary to leave the Norembega. “Our minds and our memories are far more fragile than most of us would like to believe. A little thing can upset them so radically and you have far more cause than most.”

  “What cause, Doctor?” Ellis demanded.

  “Now, Ellis.” Carmichael pulled back, settling against the back of his chair. “You know you must not push so hard to recover your memories—”

  “No, Doctor,” Ellis insisted. “Tell me what has happened to me. Tell me why I cannot remember my life before except in nightmares that suddenly threaten me when I’m awake. Tell me why I dream of roses at night only to cut my feet on their thorns during the day.”

  “You know that such things cannot be real,” the doctor said carefully.

  “Would you care to examine the cuts?” Ellis replied.

  “In due time.” The doctor sighed. “I do not doubt that they are there, my dear girl … only how they might have gotten there. Tell me, do you feel safe here?”

  “Whatever do you mean?” Ellis could not stop blinking, as though there were dust in her eyes that refused to dislodge.