Unhinged

by Amanda Deed

  Serena swallowed. What a mess. He most definitely had made things much worse.

  ‘And then you called on the Magistrate.’

  At that, Mr Moncrief sat up straight. ‘No.’ He shook his head with vehemence. ‘I had nothing to do with that.’

  ‘But you were there. You saw him.’

  ‘Yes. No. Not precisely.’

  ‘Mrs Jones said she sent you a message.’

  ‘No. She didn’t. I can only assume she sent it to the Magistrate.’

  It made sense, sadly. Serena nodded. ‘The tragedy with her father made her overly fearful, and now it’s all become too much, I’m afraid. Did you know his sister managed to have him sign over control of his funds?’

  Mr Moncrief’s face paled. ‘She didn’t! Now that takes the cake. I would wager she sent a message to the Magistrate in my name after she heard I was there that day, to cover her own tracks and make it seem my fault.

  ‘You see, I went to Aleron in an attempt to see Ed again. When I got there, I noticed from the gate what was happening at the fig tree. They had just encouraged him down. I couldn’t believe what I’d witnessed, so I crept closer. When Simon Jones saw me, he hurled threats at me, so I ran. But I had learnt enough to know that Ed needs our help more than ever. I have read of new ways to treat people with brain sickness that are more compassionate than current practices. I have searched for any doctors of that kind in Australia, but I have had no luck. He may need to return to England, or even the Americas to find better help.’

  It was much to process, but Serena believed him. Caleb Moncrief was the best friend Edward had, even if he didn’t know it. But what to do with this new change of facts. Serena ran her fingers over the bumpy nails that fixed the leather to her chair, considering her options. More than anything, she just wanted to see Edward free of the asylum. The rest could be dealt with later. ‘So, you agree that we need to get him out of Tarban Creek?’

  ‘Absolutely.’ His nod was firm.

  ‘Would you care to join us right now?’

  ‘To go to the asylum?’

  ‘Yes. I’m ready to break him out if I have to.’ Remembering her father’s rheumatism, she turned to him. ‘That is, if you are well enough, Papa.’

  Papa chuckled. ‘I’m always ready for an adventure. Don’t mind me. I’ll manage.’

  Serena turned to face Mr Moncrief again. ‘So?’

  Mr Moncrief’s mouth curved in an appreciative smile. ‘Let’s go.’

  By the time they pulled up at the entrance to the Tarban Creek Asylum for the Insane, the afternoon had waned. Serena’s apprehension had returned, particularly after Mr Moncrief had warned her of what to expect at the hospital.

  ‘The treatment of patients is inhumane to say the least,’ he had told her and Papa while deftly guiding his pair of bays around a corner.

  ‘Have you been there?’

  ‘No. I have heard stories, that’s all. Since realising that Edward is mentally ill, I took it upon myself to find out everything I can. That’s how I learnt of the new treatments available for these patients. I believe they wanted that to happen here, but the medical staff are just not advanced enough in their knowledge, and so, the old ways persist.’

  ‘The old ways?’

  Mr Moncrief pressed his lips together in a thin line. ‘Just prepare yourself for unpleasant sights and sounds.’

  As they entered the two-storied stone building, Serena reflected that Edward would find the simplistic shape rather dull architecturally, and smiled to herself. She had learnt from him, after all. She allowed Mr Moncrief to place the enquiry and used the few moments of waiting to inspect her surroundings, while gripping hard onto Papa’s arm. A hallway ran in both directions, the length of the building, with a staircase leading to the upper floor ahead of them. The stairway also led downwards, to a basement she presumed. The rooms nearest them seemed to be offices, or perhaps consulting rooms. Serena could see none of the patients, but the odd cry in the distance met her ears. Involuntarily, she shivered. The sounds a troubled mind could make were eerie indeed.

  ‘Right this way.’ The voice of one of the staff broke her from her thoughts. He led them downstairs.

  Mr Moncrief whispered to them as they walked. ‘They’re bringing him to us. They don’t want to offend the lady’s sensibilities, or break with propriety.’ He rolled his eyes. ‘More likely they don’t want us to see how their patients suffer.’

  Not that their path avoided them that distress, anyway. As soon as they descended the bottom step, the smell made Serena want to retch. She covered her nose and mouth as a mixture of stale vomit, unwashed bodies and urine assaulted her. The basement was airless and dim, and here the cries, weeping and growling of various patients were unmistakable, and Serena dug her fingers deeper into her father’s arm. He reached over with his other hand and patted hers, giving her minor comfort, although the fetid air soon stirred him into a fit of coughing.

  As they made their way through a gloomy hallway past the wards in the male division, Mr Moncrief kept up his spiel of information. ‘This place should house up to sixty patients, but is already overcrowded.’

  ‘How many are here?’ Serena spoke from behind her handkerchief.

  ‘I think around one hundred.’

  She wondered how many patients they crammed into these small rooms. And what accommodations they had. Were they provided with any comforts, or just a bed? What were they fed? Serena chewed on her lip, uncertain. What condition would Edward be in?

  The medic led them into an empty room, a few lamps giving minimal light to their surroundings. Serena hugged herself, even though the chill was only part of what made her cold. She let out a long, slow breath.

  A few minutes later another medic wheeled Edward into the room, barely clothed and slumped in a chair, his head hanging low.

  Serena gasped. ‘Edward!’

  Even Papa uttered an oath under his breath.

  Serena hurried and knelt at Edward’s side, lifting his chin to look into his sunken, empty eyes. ‘Oh. Dear God, what have they done to you?’

  Edward blinked and slowly focused. ‘Serena. You came.’ His voice sounded like a rasp on dry wood. Noticing Papa standing close by, he blinked again. ‘Mr Bellingham.’ Then his eyes flickered to over her right shoulder. ‘Caleb?’

  ‘Yes. I’m here too.’

  Without warning, Edward started to sob. ‘I thought...I thought...’

  ‘Hush,’ Mr Moncrief put a hand on his shoulder. ‘I’m here. That’s all that matters.’

  Serena swallowed the ball of emotion rising in her throat. Why hadn’t she realised the truth about Moncrief earlier?

  ‘I just want it to be over,’ Edward groaned. ‘I just want it to be over.’

  Mr Moncrief straightened and addressed the medic who stood by. ‘What treatments have you given to Mr King?’

  The medic cleared his throat. ‘Well, er, on admission, we administered a purgative as we do with all patients. He has been prescribed shock treatment—cold showers—to help bring him out of this state of mind. However, he has refused to eat, forcing the need for restraint so we can feed him via tube. And we’ve given him laudanum, of course.’

  Tears sprang to Serena’s eyes as she noted the bruises around Edward’s wrists, and even across his chest. Hair matted with bile stuck to his cheeks and neck. How could they leave him in such a state? He probably felt as though he’d suffered torture. An ache swelled in Serena’s chest. ‘We must get him out of here, Papa, Mr Moncrief.’

  ‘I daresay,’ agreed Papa, and the young man nodded, concern clearly etched on his face.

  ‘I want it to be over.’ Edward continued sobbing.

  Serena lifted his chin once again, so she could look straight into his eyes.

  ‘I don’t think so, darling. You haven’t married me yet.’

  Edward b
linked and focused on her, although his eyelids drooped and dark rings surrounded them. ‘What?’

  ‘You said you wanted to marry me.’ She dabbed at his tear-stained cheeks with her handkerchief.

  ‘But you said no.’ His eyes searched hers.

  ‘I’m sorry, my love, I didn’t know my own mind then.’

  ‘But I am cursed.’

  ‘No, Edward.’ Serena blinked back her own tears. ‘You are only unwell. And I don’t see how that should keep us apart. My mother had the dropsy, and my father suffers from rheumatism, and I still love them. Why shouldn’t I love you?’

  His lips trembled again. ‘You love me?’

  ‘I think it began that night when we toured the house together. Do you remember?’ She lifted his cold hand and pressed it to her lips, her tears running over her cheeks and onto his fingers.

  ‘How could I forget?’

  A throat-clearing echoed in the room, as Papa drew her attention back to their situation, and lack of privacy.

  Serena pulled away from Edward, straightening and mopping at her face. ‘We need to take him home.’

  Mr Moncrief turned to the medic. ‘You heard the lady. This man has a wedding to prepare.’

  ‘I beg pardon, but Mr King is in no condition to go anywhere,’ the medic protested.

  ‘Mr King is here against his own, his fiancee’s and most of his family’s will. In fact, I think you will find he is here under fraudulent circumstances. I suspect my signature was forged on the report to the magistrate.’

  ‘Go before the magistrate and prove it. A patient must not be removed without him signing the authority.’

  Mr Moncrief’s brow darkened. ‘Oh, I’ll prove it. But if you do not release this man immediately, the whole of Sydney will learn of the injustices being administered in the name of medicine here.’

  The medic smirked. ‘Your threats do not intimidate me, sir’

  ‘Perhaps they should.’ All eyes swerved to Edward, whose lips twitched into a half smile. ‘Do you know who this man is?’

  The man shrugged.

  ‘This is Mr Caleb Moncrief of the Sydney Herald, and yes, he has the power to cause you very much trouble.’

  32

  Getting Edward out of the asylum was easier once they’d unleashed the threat of notoriety. Mr Moncrief demanded trousers for his friend and removed his own coat to cover Edward’s bare torso. He pushed the chair as far as he could before he and Papa half assisted, half carried Edward between them. Edward’s head lolled, and his legs crumpled several times.

  Before they reached the front door, Papa’s strength waned and he had to let go and rest against the wall, while coughs shook his weakened frame.

  ‘I’m sorry, Papa.’ Serena laid a hand on his arm. ‘This has been too much for you, hasn’t it?’

  Recovering his breath, Papa shook his head. ‘Don’t worry about me, pet. Let’s get this young man to safety.’

  ‘Too much laudanum,’ Mr Moncrief grunted as he bore the brunt of Edward’s weight and they continued.

  Finally, they seated him in the carriage, although keeping him upright presented a challenge.

  ‘I’m afraid you must allow Ed to lean on you, Mr Bellingham.’

  But one glance at Papa’s pale face told them he would have trouble keeping himself upright.

  ‘I’ll do it,’ Serena offered without hesitation.

  It was the only solution. Mr Moncrief needed his arms free to drive. Serena remembered the night she fell asleep against Edward’s shoulder. He had not complained about that. The least she could do was return the favour. She climbed up next to him and Mr Moncrief let him go. Edward slumped against her, hardly conscious, his head heavy on her shoulder, while Papa rode in the front with Mr Moncrief. The pungent smell of bile met her nose, but she forced herself to ignore it. ‘What will we do with him?’ Serena worried her lip.

  ‘If the situation at Aleron is as you said, I don’t think it wise to take him home as yet. We’ll take him to my place.’

  ‘I’m not sure that is suitable, Mr Moncrief. How will you care for him when you must work?’

  ‘She’s right,’ Edward murmured, coming around a little. ‘Better take me home.’

  ‘All is well, old man.’ Mr Moncrief grinned over his shoulder. ‘I got myself leg-shackled two years ago. I wanted you to stand up with me, but I could not get past Mrs Jones.’ His eyes flickered with disappointment, but then he shifted his gaze to Serena. ‘I think you and my wife will get along rather well, Miss Bellingham. And she is more than capable of nursing Ed.’

  An oath spluttered from Edward’s lips and he raised his head a little. ‘My sister. She never mentioned it.’

  ‘Not surprising.’ Mr Moncrief shrugged. ‘She told me you never wanted to see me again.’

  Edward groaned. ‘I should have known. She told me you wanted to ruin me once you knew about the curse. And I never questioned her.’ He groaned again. ‘What a fool I have been. I wish I had been there on your wedding day. Congratulations.’

  ‘We also’—and this time he winked—‘have a recent addition.’

  Edward swore again, then erupted in a fit of coughing, and Serena tried to soothe him.

  ‘Surely, we will be an imposition then, Mr Moncrief. Although I offer felicitations.’ Serena didn’t want to sound ungrateful.

  ‘If you think that, then you underestimate my Francine.’ Mr Moncrief raised his eyebrows. He seemed to enjoy meting out surprises on his old friend.

  ‘Boy or girl?’ Edward rasped.

  ‘I have a son, his name is Edmond, and you can be his token uncle, all right, old man?’

  At last, Edward’s mouth curved slightly. ‘It would be my pleasure.’

  At Mr Moncrief’s home, Serena was left to her own devices for a time as Mr Moncrief set about bathing Edward and putting him into bed, while Papa napped on the sofa in their parlour. Mrs Moncrief was more than accommodating with a welcome that was enthusiastic to say the least, and bustled about fetching water and clothing. Later, Mrs Moncrief confided to Serena that she had worried over her husband’s estrangement from Edward, even though she’d never met the latter. She’d perceived that the broken friendship grieved her husband greatly and prayed for its restoration. It thrilled the rosy-cheeked new mother to harbour Edward under her roof for as long as needed.

  The couple’s home was modest, but comfortable, and little Edmond crawled around after his mother in plump gorgeousness. When at last Serena tore her eyes away from the beautiful, blue-eyed child with his gurgling laughter, she noted that several paintings decorated their walls. Some contained depictions of roses and Serena stepped closer to inspect them. As suspected, they bore Edward’s mark.

  It was such a shame she had never endeavoured to speak to Mr Moncrief all these months, just taking Mrs Jones’s word as truth. How different circumstances might have been if she’d taken the time to listen.

  When Mr Moncrief emerged from Edward’s room, closing the door behind him, she sighed. ‘All of this might have been avoided.’

  Mr Moncrief shook his head and smiled. ‘There’s no sense in berating yourself. You weren’t to know. What’s done is done. We need to look to the future now.’

  ‘Yes, I suppose you’re right.’

  Her father stirred and glanced at the clock on the parlour wall. ‘The hour is growing late. I probably should take you home, pet.’

  Home. Serena hadn’t thought of her sisters all day. Now that Papa mentioned it, she did feel rather tired. And hungry. But she didn’t want to leave Edward. ‘I need to see him. There are so many things...’

  Mr Moncrief put a hand on her shoulder. ‘I understand. But, they gave him too much laudanum, and he’s barely eaten in days. It sounds like the tubes they forced down have damaged his throat, too. Ed won’t be well enough to talk properly for a couple of days. I dares
ay he’ll sleep for much of that time. Let my wife give you both supper and then you may go home to rest. I shan’t keep you from seeing Ed when you return.’

  Serena knew Mr Moncrief spoke wisdom, even though she didn’t want to hear it. If it hadn’t been improper, she would have curled up on the floor next to Edward’s bed until he was well again. She let her head drop forward and scuffed a shoe on the floor, but then nodded her consent. This would be the longest few days of her life.

  At home, after telling her sisters all that had transpired, Julianne handed Serena a message from Mr Xavier Jones.

  ‘When did this arrive?’

  ‘A couple hours ago, by courier,’ Julianne answered.

  Serena tore the seal open and read.

  Miss Bellingham,

  I and my brother, Father and Mr Becker have written accounts to support Uncle Edward’s character. I will present these to the magistrate first thing in the morning.

  Please reply with news of your efforts today. I am eager to learn of Moncrief and his involvement. Have you been to see Uncle Ed? I yearn to know how he progresses. You may reply by return courier at our expense.

  Sincerely,

  Xavier Jones.

  Poor Mr Xavier. He must feel the affront of what his mother had inflicted upon Edward. Serena excused herself from her family, promising to return anon, and went to her room to write back to Mr Xavier. Although exhausted after a long and emotional day, she filled several pages with her account since leaving Aleron House, explaining the surprising news of Mr Moncrief’s friendship with Edward. She finished with the information that Edward convalesced at Mr Moncrief’s home if Mr Xavier wanted to call on him. Hopefully, Mr Moncrief would have the grace to permit him entry.

  As Mr Moncrief suggested, Serena waited two days before returning to his house—two days that passed with interminable slowness. Although she busied herself constantly—even scrubbing the walls—the time dragged.

  When at last the time came to go, Serena pulled out the gown that Edward had purchased for her, taking time to dress in the beautiful blue silk. Although it was an evening gown, it was the best garment she owned, and she wanted Edward to see her in the gift. Julianne and Rachel helped her fasten the dress, fussing to make sure it sat right. Julianne then styled her hair into a high knot with several golden curls tumbling down her shoulders. She finished off with a dab of musk behind her ears.