Unhinged

by Amanda Deed

  How had Serena never noticed these swift changes in Mrs Jones’s demeanour? If only she was more observant. Perhaps then none of this would have happened. Serena willed herself to calm, Edward’s illness did not stem from his sister’s scheming ways. If she became hysterical and over-reacted now, it would not help.

  ‘The one person who should support Edward above all, and instead the whole time you devise ways to undermine him and control him.’

  Surprise lit Mrs Jones’s features, and again a look of disbelief quickly displaced it, and even a feigned expression of hurt. If it weren’t so serious, Serena could almost laugh.

  ‘What ridiculous idea has gotten into your head now, Miss Bellingham?’

  Serena narrowed her eyes at the woman. ‘Edward keeps a journal, did you know?’

  Once again, for the briefest moment, Mrs Jones looked stunned, but she covered it deftly with a shrug and a nod. ‘Of course I know.’

  Lies. Blatant lies.

  ‘I have learnt much this afternoon, Mrs Jones. Edward banned you from entering his rooms, unhappy with your treatment of him. I think if you knew of this journal, and what it contains, you would not so readily have allowed me to go there.’

  A scornful laugh erupted from the woman’s throat. ‘I cannot conceive of what you—how did you say it—learnt.’ A hard glint flashed in her eyes. ‘But whatever it is, I am surprised that you, an intelligent girl by all accounts, accept the rantings of a deranged mind as fact.’

  Serena’s eyes widened. This, she had not expected. ‘Deranged mind? What happened to the caring sister?’

  ‘Oh, I care. I care about my family and what the public will think of them if society discovers Edward’s sickness. We have tried to hide it for so many years. It’s exhausting. Perhaps it is best he is kept away from society’s prying eyes in the asylum.’

  Serena stared at Mrs Jones. There seemed to be an element of defeat in her words, resignation. Did she really believe this outcome was for the best?

  ‘According to Edward, you’ve pestered him to give you control of his estate for years. And now you have apparently succeeded.’

  Mrs Jones gripped her hands together and grimaced. ‘When my father died, we lost everything. And our family’s name was slurred because of my father’s illness. My husband is not able to provide for us due to his injury in battle, apart from a small government pension he received. Edward was the only one of us with income, but his name lost recognition because of Papa. We came to Australia to start again. Can you imagine how I felt when Edward showed signs of the same malady? I could not go through it all again. This family, we’ve lived in this house with him, to support him. We’ve done everything for him. But it is as though he is blind to our sacrifice and to our plight. He wastes his funds as though they will last forever.’

  Serena recalled when Edward had wanted to lavish her with a whole new wardrobe, and when he had bought those pastries. Is this what Mrs Jones meant by wasting? She opened her mouth to argue but a broken voice came from behind her, stopping her words.

  ‘Did you never trust I could provide for you, Judith?’ Mr Jones had obviously overheard their conversation. ‘I may not have full use of my arm, but I am yet able to earn. But I suppose that is not enough for you.’

  As Serena turned around to face him, she met a gaze filled with sadness and disappointment. Just behind him stood their two sons, equally astonished by this revelation.

  ‘What is happening?’ Simon pushed past them to stand before his mother. ‘What are you saying?’

  Mrs Jones averted her gaze, wringing her hands once again. ‘What I am saying, Simon, is we were on the brink of losing everything again. Your uncle was ready to settle his wealth on this girl’—she gestured toward Serena—‘leaving us with nothing. He is my brother. We are the ones who’ve made the sacrifices for him. But he wants to marry her. And what do we get for all our trouble? Empty pockets and a name stained with madness. That is what I am saying.’

  The exaggerated reasoning from this woman’s mouth astonished Serena, and by the looks of her husband and sons, they were also stunned.

  ‘You go too far, Judith. It was you who insisted none of us work outside of this house, that we needed to protect and support Ed. We might have set ourselves up quite nicely in town. We still could. The boys are yet young enough to make something of themselves.’

  ‘There’s no need for that.’ Mrs Jones shook her head emphatically. ‘Eddie has given me control of his assets now, and he is being looked after. All will be well.’

  Mr Jones shook his head in bewilderment. ‘All is not well. How can you say that? I… I am shocked to hear you speak so. You put all of your faith in your brother’s property? What then, am I to you?’ He turned his back on her and strode to the mantel, where he stared down into the blazing fire.

  Silence reigned for several long seconds, and then Mr Simon spoke.

  ‘None of this solves how we get Uncle Eddie out of the asylum.’

  Serena jerked her chin toward Mrs Jones. ‘She thinks he is better off in the asylum. Hidden away from the shameful stares and comments that society might throw her way.’

  All heads turned to Mrs Jones once again. The poor family. Serena’s anger melted a little.

  Mrs Jones’s face crumpled. ‘I cannot endure it anymore. For six years I have fought this. Fought his illness, fought to keep it secret. I’m so tired. At least this way, we no longer need worry that he will do something indiscreet or take desperate measures with his life. And the boys’ reputations may remain safe for a while, at least.’

  She dropped her head into her hands and sobbed quietly.

  ‘Why do you fret over your sons? They are fine, upstanding young men.’ Serena didn’t grasp the depth of concern the woman showed.

  ‘Don’t you see?’ Mrs Jones pleaded through trembling lips and tear-filled eyes. ‘Once everyone knows Edward is mad, they will assume that my sons are mad too. After all, my father had the same mania, which killed him. Who can say neither of them will contract it?’ She turned sorrowful eyes to each of them. ‘The rumours and gossip will begin with Edward, and soon they will whisper about our father and then they will suspect the boys. It’s better if we leave Eddie in the asylum where the doctors can treat him.’

  Mr Jones turned and stared at her as though she were a stranger. ‘You know very well that patients rarely ever return home from Tarban Creek. You would condemn your brother for the slight chance our sons carry the same condition?’

  ‘It’s for the best.’ Mrs Jones’s voice rasped.

  Clearly, she believed in what she was saying, but her family was not convinced. And neither was Serena.

  In fact—

  ‘Were you involved in him being sent to the asylum?’

  Mrs Jones jerked up straight, as though she’d been poked in the rib cage. ‘Why would you ask such a thing?’

  Serena shrugged, but narrowed her eyes. ‘It seems fortuitous for you, that soon after you had Edward’s signature handing over control, the magistrate learnt of his illness.’

  ‘What you are suggesting is preposterous.’ But she looked as guilty as a child whose face is smeared with the very crumbs of the cake they denied eating. She glanced around at each member of her family, then pointed at Serena. ‘It is this chit who was set to ruin Edward, not I.’

  ‘Me?’ Serena was livid. Mrs Jones thought to divert the attention from herself. But she had acted subversively the whole time while making out she empathised with Serena’s situation. ‘You’ve deceived me, led me to believe that Edward is a libertine. That he has made advances on several young women. But nothing in his journal indicates any other woman in his life beyond a brief acquaintance. And further, according to his words, you have tried to convince him that I am no more than a fortune hunter, in league with my father of course.’

  The disappointment in Mr Jones face deepene
d. ‘Is this true, Elizabeth?’

  ‘I am not convinced she cares for him.’ Mrs Jones pressed her lips together, avoiding her husband’s gaze.

  ‘It should be enough that he cares for her,’ Mr Xavier said. ‘That was enough for me to stand down.’

  Serena turned to face him and saw colour flood into his cheeks. So, she had been right. He had been interested in her at first.

  ‘I apologise if that embarrasses you, Miss Bellingham.’ He inclined his head towards her.

  Serena nodded in turn, unable to express her thoughts while her emotions jumbled and churned so much. She looked at Mrs Jones. ‘I would still like to know if you were involved in Mr King’s admittance to the asylum.’

  ‘Yes. Answer her, Mother,’ Mr Simon stepped closer to her, so he loomed over her.

  ‘Yes, do, please enlighten us further,’ Mr Jones agreed, his body stiff.

  Mr Xavier put a hand on her shoulder. ‘Did you have a hand in it, Mother?’

  Mrs Jones drew in a deep breath and let it out slowly. Then she gave a light shrug. ‘I did perhaps send a message to Mr Moncrief.’

  Moncrief! Again.

  The wheels were turning in Serena’s head as pieces of information connected in her mind. ‘Caleb Moncrief? Let’s talk about him for a moment.’

  31

  ‘What is there to say?’

  Why Mrs Jones persisted in feigning innocence, Serena did not understand.

  ‘Edward and Mr Moncrief were friends once. What happened?’

  ‘Moncrief turned on him when he discovered Uncle Ed was sick.’ Mr Simon was on the defensive once again.

  Serena eyed Mrs Jones, who had dropped her gaze to her lap. ‘Are you certain that’s what happened?’

  ‘What else could have happened?’ Mr Xavier seemed perplexed. Mr Jones shook his head and turned back to the hearth.

  ‘From Edward’s journal, I take it they were close before his illness.’ Serena addressed Mr Xavier and Mr Simon, although she kept her eyes on Mrs Jones to watch her responses.

  Mr Xavier shrugged. ‘Those two used to cut up quite a lark. Out all hours of the night, haring around the countryside. They were rather inseparable, to be honest.’

  ‘Yes, Moncrief was here almost daily. But he turned sour so quickly.’ His brows knitted together. ‘I can’t remember precisely why.’

  Mrs Jones remained motionless, apart from kneading her fingers.

  ‘I have an inkling,’ Serena said. ‘I wonder if you, Mrs Jones, poisoned his mind against Edward, much as you tried to do with me.’

  The woman’s head shot up. ‘What possible reason would I have for doing that?’

  ‘I’m not sure, but I’ll wager you have one.’

  ‘Are you going to allow this impertinent miss to continue accusing me?’ Mrs Jones addressed her husband’s back.

  Mr Jones did not move from where he leaned against the mantel, but Serena continued.

  ‘Never mind. I shall find out the truth from Mr Moncrief myself.’

  Serena turned to leave, but not before she recognised the drain of colour from Mrs Jones’s face. Mr Moncrief’s version of events would be rather intriguing, she had no doubt. As she turned to pull the big door closed behind her, a hand reached out to hold it open.

  ‘Miss Bellingham.’ Mr Xavier halted her. ‘Please forgive us. This admission of Mother’s is rather a shock to us. We never realised ...’ he swallowed. ‘This will take time for us to comprehend.’

  Serena offered him a compassionate smile. ‘I don’t blame you, Mr Xavier. Your mother’s secret ambitions are at fault here. I do hope you can make peace with her. And I hope Edward will also when we get him out of that asylum.’

  ‘How shall we accomplish that? You heard what Father said.’

  ‘I did, but there must be a way. Why don’t we start with petitioning the Magistrate? While I meet Mr Moncrief, why don’t you write a letter, defending your uncle’s character?’

  Mr Xavier swallowed and nodded. ‘All right. I will.’

  With that they parted ways, and almost an hour later, Serena burst into her home and sought her father.

  ‘Papa! I need your help. I must go and speak with a gentleman at the newspaper office. The same one as Julianne gave my story to. Will you come with me?’

  Her father looked alarmed on seeing Serena’s animated expression.

  ‘What has happened, pet?’ He asked as he rose slowly from his chair.

  ‘Mr King has been taken to Bedlam Point.’

  ‘What?’

  ‘It is a long story, but I promise to tell you on the way. Will you come?’

  ‘Of course, my dear. But we must hail a cab. I fear my knees are too swollen to walk far.’

  Papa gathered his coat and they were soon on their way, heads close together as they rode, while Serena recounted the morning’s revelations to him.

  Barely noticing the passing of time, they soon arrived at the Sydney Morning Herald office where Serena asked for Mr Caleb Moncrief.

  ‘Please have a seat, Miss...?’

  ‘Bellingham. And this is Mr Bellingham, my father.’

  ‘Miss Bellingham. I shall see if Mr Moncrief is receiving visitors.’ The gentleman at the front desk made his way along a narrow and somewhat shadowy hallway, leaving Serena and her father to gaze at their surroundings. Several framed copies of the newspaper hung on the wall, along with a portrait of the founder. The smell of the printing press drifted to them from the back rooms, along with the sounds of men working.

  Moments later, the gentleman returned with a nod. ‘Right this way, Mr Bellingham, Miss Bellingham.’

  Still fuelled by the outrage that had stirred within her since she’d read Edward’s journal, Serena experienced no nervousness whatsoever. Very unlike her usual self. The man paused outside an office door and knocked for her. ‘Here you are.’

  Serena straightened her skirts and gathered her thoughts. Upon hearing the ‘yes’ from within the office, Papa opened the door.

  Mr Moncrief stood as they entered. ‘Mr Bellingham. Miss Bellingham. To what do I owe this pleasure?’ He seemed nervous in his greeting, but offered a polite bow.

  Sitting in one of the two chairs opposite his desk, while Papa sat beside her, Serena got right to the point. ‘We’re here to discuss Mr Edward King.’

  ‘I see.’ A slight frown appeared on his brow as he reclaimed his seat.

  ‘A shameful thing has been done to him.’

  A sigh left his lips. ‘Agreed.’ He picked up a pen and tapped it repeatedly on the desk in agitation.

  ‘Agreed?’ Thrown by this unexpected comment, Serena gaped at him. ‘But you are involved in this debacle.’

  Mr Moncrief put the pen down, stood up and moved to close the door of the small office. Serena had to crane her neck around to see him. He turned to face her, leaning against the door. ‘Not as involved as you might assume.’ He pushed away from the door, opening his hands before him and returning to his seat. ‘Or, should I say, involved in a different way than you might assume.’

  She did not know what to say. Puzzlement disoriented her. She had planned to come in and give Mr Moncrief the lecture of his life, but now, she wasn’t sure. ‘You did print that story about him, courtesy of my very own sister. Perhaps you should explain yourself.’

  ‘I will. But I must go back to the beginning if you will bear with me.’

  Serena glanced at her father, whose face remained expressionless, then looked back at the man behind the desk. She studied him. Mr Moncrief seemed genuine, so she nodded.

  ‘Edward and I became great friends soon after he landed in Sydney. We were both nineteen then, but I had grown up in Sydney, so I helped him get used to his new home. We got along very well most of the time.’

  ‘Most of the time?’

  ‘I will presume you
know what I mean when I say his, er, intelligence, frustrated me at times.’

  Serena’s lips twitched. She did know and inclined her head in acknowledgement.

  Mr Moncrief smiled at that. ‘I thought as much. You have experienced the same. But I always got over it. Ed’s other virtues outweighed his faults. Always.’

  The tightness in Serena’s shoulders eased. This man cared for Edward. Had she been wrong about him from the beginning? Just as she had been wrong about Mrs Jones. And even Edward himself. ‘So, what happened?’

  Mr Moncrief clasped his hands together, leaning forward in his chair. ‘When he was twenty-two, I noticed strange things in the way he acted at times. I had learnt from him the story of his father’s demise. I wanted to search for a way to help Ed, but his sister refused me. Mrs Jones wanted to keep his illness hidden and found her own ways to conceal and control it. Over time, I suspect she told him terrible lies about me. I know she told me things about him that weren’t true. At least, they didn’t sound true of Ed’s nature.’

  ‘What kind of things?’

  ‘Such as Ed didn’t want to associate with me anymore. That he had come to his senses, whatever that means. I never really accepted that he had cut me off like that.’

  ‘And that’s why you came to Aleron that day?’

  Mr Moncrief nodded. ‘I did that now and then, on the off chance I might catch him outside, or hoping things had changed within the walls. It’s been three years since I last spoke to Ed. He hasn’t tried to contact me, which is why I think Mrs Jones has turned him against me.’

  ‘But you published that damning article after one of my daughters contacted you,’ Papa interrupted. ‘Why would you do that?’

  Mr Moncrief rubbed his stained hands over his face. ‘I am ashamed of myself. At the time, I thought I was doing the right thing. I thought that perhaps if I revealed the truth, it would break the hold Mrs Jones has over him, that Ed could get the help he needs. I was a fool. Now I’ve made things much worse.’