by Mark C. King
“You think so?”
“I do. We played many games and I certainly improved over time, but he was on another level. I think he let me win. I do not know what went on in his mind, but I am convinced that he was more than a mindless creature. I believe that he gave me an occasional game as a thank you. I consider him, and always will, as a friend.”
Sigmund nodded and realized that he did too.
45.
When Sigmund awoke the next morning, something felt wrong. Wrong, but very good. He soon realized that what he was feeling was simply his own bed. The mattress was soft, the blankets were warm, and the silence was serene. He hoped to never take such things for granted again. Thoughts of Basil soured the moment as that poor man was still in Bedlam and dealing with harsh conditions. Sigmund would be visiting him soon and would be bearing gifts.
Anticipation of seeing his family spurred Sigmund out of bed. He rarely went very long without seeing them and after the experience he had been through, he needed their company and love as much as ever.
Stepping out of his flat, he found the morning was clear, but cold. The storm had finally tired itself out or moved on. Putting his hands deep in his pockets, he made his way to Harry’s stables. Besides wanting to use his carriage, he wanted to see Harry, the first friendly face outside of the asylum.
Harry was working in the stables, as usual, and when he caught sight of Sigmund he came up and said, “Where have you been, my lad?” then added, “You look rather awful. What’s happened to you?”
Rubbing his hands together, Sigmund said, “The explanation will take a few minutes. How about we step inside where it is warm?”
“Of course.”
In the warmth of Harry’s home, and with tea served, Sigmund told the whole account, leaving out no details. When finished, Harry cocked his head and said, “You know, Sig, I’m not sure that I wasn’t better off when you kept things hidden from me.”
Sigmund smiled at the jest, “I think we would all be better off if I just didn’t have such accounts to tell you. Can’t a man have a normal life?”
Harry laughed, “Not you, my lad. Not you.”
Pulling onto the road in his carriage, Sigmund had a sense of happiness that he had missed dearly. Seeing Harry was the first step towards feeling normal again. Now, driving through the busy streets of London, he felt even more satisfied. Even the chugging, smoke belching steam carriages could not remove the smile from his face.
The only thing that blackened the otherwise bright morning was his next stop. It was time to put an end to his favor and his association with Doctor Ferriss.
When he reached the four-story brownstone building that housed the ghoul, Sigmund tied up Ham and walked determinedly up the front steps. He had no desire to delay this meeting an instant more than necessary. Continuing right through the building’s front entrance, he knocked loudly on Ferriss’s first floor interior door. Only a short time passed before he knocked loudly once again. His feelings were less than patient.
When the door opened, Ferriss showed a little surprise at who was standing there, but quickly composed himself and said, “Mr. Shaw! What a pleasant surprise. Please, come inside.”
Sigmund walked in without a word and sat in the same chair that he had taken the night of the favor. The room seemed even more welcoming in the daylight, or would have if Sigmund didn’t know the actions of the owner.
Ferriss didn’t react to the rudeness of Sigmund’s entrance and simply took the opposite chair. “So, Mr. Shaw, what can I do for you?”
“You can leave me and my family alone. Forever.”
“Well, that depends on you. Can I assume that you have completed the favor? Tell me, what is the cause of the brain ailments?”
Sigmund nodded and said, “Yes, I have completed the favor. It was not a disease, as you feared, nor a hereditary trait, but was the result of immoral experimentation.”
Ferriss eyes grew wide with interest. “Really? Was it Doctor Madfyre?”
Sigmund wondered if Ferriss knew more than he let on about the ailment, and answered, “No. One of the orderlies was using a serum on the patients that Madfyre had created some years ago. It was a misguided effort at a cure for insanity. The poor man had a fiancé that took ill and was admitted to the asylum and that was this orderly’s motivation to find a solution. Unfortunately, his methods were murderous and he has been taken in by Scotland Yard.”
“Fascinating,” Ferriss whispered. “Do you think you could procure some of this serum? I would pay you?”
The thought of doing anything for this man ever again was repulsive. The thought that this man wanted the serum was repulsive and frightening. “No. We are done. We are never to speak again, much less work for each other.”
“Hmm, disappointing.”
“Doctor Ferriss, let me be clear on one thing. I am not a violent man, however, if I even sense that you or one of your associates are approaching my family ever again, there will be repercussions. Am I clear on where we stand?”
“Your threats are unnecessary, Mr. Shaw. You have nothing to fear from me.”
Sigmund stood and started walking to the door. He opened it himself and looked over his shoulder, “Unless there is anything I’m forgetting, goodbye, Doctor Ferriss.”
Sigmund waited for a second to see if there was a response. Ferriss seemed lost in thought and did not answer so Sigmund left. Walking outside of the building, it felt as if a weight was lifted. The favor was done and his family was safe. There was almost a sense of giddiness and he couldn’t help but smile. Did the air always taste this good? he wondered and then, Finally, I can go back to being a normal carriage driver. Normal is so underrated.
Outside of his sister’s building, he looked at his watch – a few minutes before noon. When Alexis opened the door her face erupted in a huge smile and she hugged him. “Where were you this weekend? We were all so worried when you did not show up! Have you been sick, you look so thin?”
“I am sorry about that. I have quite an explanation.”
She narrowed her eyes playfully, as if she suspected that he was up to something, and then invited him in. “Jamison is at work and Sarah is still at school.”
“Well,” commented Sigmund, “I guess I’ll have to tell the story a few times today.”
“What story? What are you talking about? Is it something to do with the favor from that awful man? Can we help?”
Sigmund shook his head at the last question and took one of the chairs near the warm fire. Alexis pulled another chair for herself and he proceeded to tell her everything that had transpired over the last many days. When he finished, he could tell that she was surprised, scared, and hurt.
“Oh, Sigmund, why didn’t you tell us? Couldn’t we have found another way?”
“Believe me, I tried to think of alternatives, but in the end I could not think of any other way that would guarantee your safety. Doctor Ferriss is now behind me, behind us, once and for all.”
“That poor orderly,” Alexis said softly. “To lose his fiancé like that. I do not condone his methods, but I cannot entirely blame him, either. After all, have we not done some questionable things to help Sarah?”
It was true. The same thoughts had been pestering Sigmund. If he was in Silvester Thursby’s situation, would he have done anything different? He certainly would like to think so, but until you are there, one never knows for certain. Sigmund had broken the law to help his family, but had never gone near as far as murder.
Alexis and Sigmund talked through the afternoon, enjoying a hearty stew for lunch along the way. A sound of heavy footsteps in the buildings foyer announced Sarah’s arrival. She was wearing the mechanical legs that Richard Sutton had created for her. They were not graceful, but allowed her far more freedom than her wheeled-chair ever could.
Alexis opened the door for her and when Sarah walked in, she caught sight of Sigmund. “Uncle!” she said excitedly. “Where were you? And, well, you look terrible.”
“Good to
see you too, Sarah.” Sigmund smiled.
“I’m sorry, uncle. It is always good to see you, but, it’s just…you don’t look too good. Have you been sick?”
“Actually, I’ve been insane.”
Sarah giggled and said, “Right. But have you been ill?”
Alexis laughed and Sigmund did too. It was wonderful to be here again.
Alexis helped Sarah out of her mechanical legs and Sarah settled on a blanket on the floor in front of the fireplace, her usual winter spot. When all were ready, Sigmund told the account again. Of all that he talked about, Sarah was most excited about Charlotte Merrihail.
“You actually met her?” she asked excitedly.
“I did. She is quite remarkable. Very smart and very brave.”
“So, if her husband died, she is a single woman…”
“Sarah!” Alexis said sternly.
“What? It is a fair question.”
“It is a bit cheeky, don’t you think?”
“Yes, mother.”
When Jamison came home from work, the story was repeated one last time. Jamison’s first comment was, “And I thought I had a tough week.”
They all chuckled, and Jamison continued, “You are quite a remarkable man, Sigmund. We are very fortunate to have you. Thank you.”
Sigmund felt a sense of pride but also a debt, “Thank you Jamison, but I feel as if I am the fortunate one to have all of you. All the more so as there are no more hidden favors over my head.”
Alexis said, “I think we can all be thankful for that. What do you all think about going out to dinner tonight, a celebration?”
“I think that is a fine idea,” replied Jamison.
“Oh, yes!” Sarah chimed in. “I get to sit next to Uncle Sigmund.”
“Oh?” Sigmund said. “I am worthy of sitting next to you?
“Not exactly. I don’t want to eat too much and your aroma will help with that.”
“Sarah!” Alexis said and then starting laughing with the rest of them.
It was good to be home.
46.
It was almost hard to believe that the cell that Silvester Thursby found himself in, with its bare stone walls, iron barred door, and small cot, was better than the living conditions that were offered at Bedlam. The temperature was reasonable, the bed was adequate, and the blanket was in good condition. Even the food was superior.
Prisoners of the law where better treated than prisoners of the mind.
It had been three days since his arrest and, outside of a guard that brought him his meals and the legal counsel that was assigned to him, he had no contact with anyone. Although he pined for Amberlyn, the knowledge that she was well, kept him in a state of exuberance. What did it matter that he was in jail as long as she was healthy and that she loved him.
He scoffed at the poets who talk of sacrifice, pain, and conquests in the name of love – what did they really know? Had they anything more to draw on than romantic concepts? Had they suffered the loss of a loved one and had to do the unthinkable to bring them back? Unlikely. Their pretty words fell short of ugly reality, nor could they possibly capture the unbridled bliss of true love. It was the height of arrogance if they thought they could.
During those solitary hours laying on the cot in his cell, Silvester occasionally thought about the bad he had done. Part of him knew that it was wrong, but a larger part excused it with the thought of a healthy Amberlyn. There was no greater purpose that he could imagine. Along with those thoughts, he further justified his actions by considering the effects of the serum, how it changed his thinking and views. Yes, it increased his logic and learning ability, but it also compromised his morals. Never were things more black and white than while under the serum’s influence. This self-induced madness was his one hope of possible release, that a jury would have lenience on him due to the effects of the drug and, of course, the positive outcome of his fiancé.
Perhaps the formula alone – which he had carefully hidden in a damaged wall in the basement of Bedlam – could procure his release. Was the healing power of his discovery worth the price of his freedom?
Although he allowed these occasional reprimands of conscience, Silvester spent most of his time thinking of the happiness of having Amberlyn back. Even the dark cell couldn’t extinguish the light of joy he had at the thought of her.
All was not happy, however, as their future was quite unknown. Amberlyn may be healthy, but he was now a prisoner. His prospects were poor, at best, but not without a little hope – according to his lawyer. Most interesting was the complete reversal of their positions. Whereas Amberlyn was a prisoner of sorts and he the free one, now she was free and him the prisoner. He contemplated a possible life of imprisonment, where his engagement would not proceed to the next step, and yet to have her love would be enough.
A sound of footsteps in the hallway caused him to cock his head as it seemed a little early for the evening meal. The guard was probably just on his rounds, he figured. Before long, though, Silvester could hear more than one set of footsteps. Could this finally be Amberlyn? he thought excitedly.
Jumping out of bed, he moved to the bars of his cell and looked down the hall towards the sounds with great anticipation. At first he could only see the guard. A quick feeling of disappointment calmed his excitement. Looking again at the approach, he caught a glimpse of something else, a bit of a dress could be seen behind the constable. Perhaps it was her after all!
As the guard reached the cell, he stepped to the side which allowed Silvester a full view of the lady that was being escorted – Amberlyn. Her appearance was almost a dream. Silvester had seen her every day in the asylum, wearing the drab clothes of a patient, unkempt hair, and only a touch above filthy. But now, she stood before him with a new, beautiful, although modest, dress. Her dark hair was clean and styled in a simple fashion. It was the total transformation of this woman that stood in front of him. The internal change had already been witnessed, but this was the first glance at the external effects.
“You have a visitor,” said the guard, unnecessarily, to Silvester. Then, turning to Amberlyn, “I will be just down the hall, miss. If this criminal gives you any trouble, just shout and I’ll be here in an instant.”
“Thank you, sir,” she said quietly.
“Oh, Amberlyn!” Silvester started as soon as the guard had walked away, “I am so happy to see you. You look wonderful! How are you feeling?” He had so many things he wanted to say and ask.
Still in a quiet voice, she responded, “I am…overwhelmed. When not resting, for I am still very weak, I have spent much time listening to my family, catching up on what I have missed. It is hard to comprehend that I was in Bedlam for years. I do not have much recollection for the passing of that time and it has left me with many confusing thoughts and emotions.”
Silvester nodded in sympathy. He could not imagine what this reawakening must be like. “My dear Amberlyn, it surely is difficult, but I’m certain that with more time things will get easier.”
“I hope so,” she responded and then said quietly, “You were with me in the asylum all those years.” It wasn’t a question, but Silvester nodded. She continued, “You gave up on any other career, any other chance at a relationship, to take that abysmal job, for me.”
“It was nothing,” he gushed. “I could not bear the thought of you being alone in there. I just needed to be near you. My love would have endured much more.”
Looking straight into his eyes, Amberlyn said, “You have my sincerest appreciation for protecting me like that. I am not sure many men would have done so much. But…” she looked down, clearly disturbed by something. “But how did you heal me?”
“It was not easy,” he admitted. “But I took the research that Doctor Madfyre had started and continued to improve it. It must seem silly to you to think of me working as a kind of scientist.”
“How did you know it would work?”
He hesitated briefly, but decided on the truth. “I was not sure t
hat it would.”
Amberlyn looked up at him with a surprised expression on her face. “What do you mean?”
“My love, I am not sure you are ready for all of this. I think this would be a better topic for another day.” He smiled kindly at her.
“No,” she said firmly, which showed that her desire to know these details was much stronger than Silvester had figured.
“Alright. The serum had helped others that I tried it on, but it only cured them temporarily.”
“They became mad again?” Amberlyn asked.
“No. The serum would eventually kill them.”
Amberlyn put her hand over her mouth and gasped. “You…You killed them?”
“Not me,” he pleaded. “The serum. My intention was to help, not harm those patients.” He thought about The Beast of Bedlam and how that man was purposefully killed by him, but he was not going to bring that up. Nor Cecil or Exton.