Lady Can Never Be Too Curious

by Mary Wine

  She’d enjoyed feeling her emotions running free. If that was a sin, so be it. She looked at the circulars, a desire kindling inside her to prove she was worthy of knowing more.

  “Miss?”

  Giles had moved closer. There was an unpleasant look in his eyes, but he remained firmly obedient to his master’s will. Of course he did. If he didn’t, Giles would find himself dismissed and on his way to becoming an unfortunate, for no good family would hire him without a reference from her father.

  Janette bit her lip but tucked her right foot behind her left ankle and offered her father a curtsy. “As you say, Father.”

  The lie passed her lips more easily than she’d thought it would, but she realized she’d been lying most of her life. In fact, she’d learned it from her father—little comments that were untruthful but acceptable because they were polite. It had been the way she was raised by the man watching her offer a curtsy of respect, when the only feeling she had for him was pity.

  “Yes, well, it seems you are not so far off the path if you can still behave in a civilized manner. Everyone in this house needs to understand I only mean the best for you.”

  Her father waved his hand, dismissing her.

  Giles followed her up the grand staircase. She turned right instead of left and heard the butler clear his throat.

  “I simply wish to have a word with my mother.”

  The butler offered her a short bow. “Mrs. Aston has left for the country at the command of the master.”

  She felt a chill tingling across her skin again. Now the entire house felt unfamiliar to her. Giles extended his arm toward her room. She could have sworn she heard the clattering of keys like a jailer would have on his belt, because she was very much a prisoner. The urge to flee began to clamor inside her. She looked toward the front door, realizing all she needed was the courage to walk away from her imprisonment.

  The same courage that had seen her walking up the steps of the Solitary Chamber.

  “Now, don’t make me handle you,” Giles grumbled. “I don’t want to be telling the master you aren’t in your room. The clinic won’t be worse than the street.”

  “I’m not so sure about that.”

  The butler frowned and grabbed her wrist. He had an amazing amount of strength and sent her tumbling into her room with a hard tug.

  “You’re a lady; stay in there. I’ve no more liking for this bit of business than you do, but I can’t lose my place any more than you want to give up the comfortable life you have.”

  Giles closed her door with a disgusted grunt. She was left staring at the things she considered hers. Today she had to face the fact that nothing in the room belonged to her. The law would support her father’s right to manage her however he saw fit. The very clothes on her back belonged to him.

  But a clinic?

  She sat and covered her mouth with one hand. Those clinics were places of horror where pain was often used as therapy. Maybe she had heard the tales over tea, but women were most often sent to the places by men who wanted them to be obedient. Like her father wished of her.

  Darius’s face rose from her memory with all his insistence that she did not belong in his world. But maybe she did. At the moment, it seemed more welcoming than the society she’d been raised in, a society that would see her sent to a clinic because she enjoyed knowledge.

  And kisses…

  Even the memory of Darius’s kiss wasn’t enough to distract her from her dilemma. She paced until well after sundown, but Giles remained at his post until another man took his place.

  It appeared she would be going to the clinic. Horror rose up so thick, it threatened to choke her. She swallowed, forcing herself to plan. She’d done a good job of being everything her father wanted her to be until now. She would have to try and convince him she was still docile.

  It was the only way to get him to lower his guard.

  And then she’d run—hurry as fast as she could to the only place where she might be respected. That place her friends looked down their noses at only because they had been trained to do so by their parents. Well, she wanted to know—wanted to know so much more than she did. She wanted to understand what she was.

  ***

  The next morning, Janette climbed meekly into the carriage.

  “I am relieved to see you calmly ready to follow my instructions, Janette,” her father remarked.

  She wasn’t calm, but she offered her father a serene smile, one she’d perfected over countless tea services where the conversation had been dull enough to almost kill her.

  The carriage came to a stop outside the clinic, and the footman let the steps down. Janette didn’t wait for her father but left the vehicle, because like everything else in her life, it was closing in on her.

  “Your demeanor gives me hope that Dr. Nerval will be able to cure you of this Illuminist nonsense,” her father announced as the footman appeared with a satchel and placed it near her on the pavement. “The upstairs maid packed everything you shall need for your stay.”

  “My stay?”

  “Yes,” her father answered. “Dr. Nerval was quite clear. You will need to be completely removed from any sources of impure thinking while being purged.”

  She wouldn’t be staying.

  Two burly men started toward her from the clinic, making it plain her attempt couldn’t begin immediately.

  “Good-bye, Father.”

  It was a bittersweet moment, one she expected to hurt more. Instead, she felt a sense of strength growing inside her.

  “Now, Janette, it is only for a little while.”

  She reached down and picked up the satchel herself. She didn’t look back at her father. There was nothing behind her but a life spent in ignorance. Clarity dawned on her, a clear understanding of why she’d gone up those steps to the Solitary Chamber. Something had drawn her there, something inside of her.

  Something she craved to know more about.

  She wasn’t even sure how long she’d battled the discontent that had prompted her to try to enter the Illuminists’ building. At the moment, it felt as if she had been secretly yearning to escape her father’s home for years. That wasn’t very kind of her, for her mother loved her, but somehow, she had always sensed a distance between her father and herself.

  The clinic attendants flanked her, their white jackets sending a chill down her spine. The sense of impending imprisonment made her mouth go dry. The urge to run needled her more and more the closer she came to the door of the clinic.

  Janette clamped her control down on top of that impulse. The presence of the attendants told her they expected her to flee, so she would deny them the spectacle. She would employ every bit of intelligence and find a way to outwit Dr. Nerval’s staff. If they believed her accepting, they would be less likely to watch her closely. That hope made it possible for her to step through the doors and conceal her cringe when they closed firmly behind her.

  “Miss Janette, I am pleased to see you so calm.”

  The doctor stood with his stiff-faced matron one pace behind him. There was a look of anticipation in his eyes that doubled her resolve to escape.

  “I cannot imagine being upset by anything my dear father has asked of me.” She spoke in her sweetest voice, and the matron softened her expression. Janette widened her eyes. “The weather is lovely this morning,” she offered sweetly.

  “Yes…well, we have more important matters to discuss.”

  Janette smiled brightly at the matron as the doctor walked past her with a mild look of disgust on his face. Men of the upper class liked to preach about how they wanted their ladies docile, but most of them couldn’t stomach the mindless conversation very well. More than one wife had encouraged her friends to prattle on about meaningless topics until their husbands all retired to the smoking room.

  But Janette’s anxiety increased as they made their way down the hallway. All the windows were covered with iron screens. There was the insistent jingle of keys, and she noticed th
at every door had a lock. A quick glance from beneath her lashes showed her that the matron had a ring of keys hanging from her belt like some sort of chamberlain or jailer from the Dark Ages.

  Her hope began to diminish as they passed a door that rattled and she heard someone’s desperate plea for release. Ahead of the doctor, one of the white-coated attendants opened a large door, his key ring clanking. The matron placed a hand in the center of Janette’s back to guide her through.

  “Now, Miss Janette, we will dispense with the charade and you shall show me your skills,” Dr. Nerval stated victoriously.

  The only windows in the room were up near the ceiling. Behind her, the door closed with a solid sound, and the key grated in the lock. Only the matron remained, and she reached out to pull the satchel from Janette’s hands.

  Janette didn’t try to hold on to it. She was too distracted by the contents of the room. All around her she heard the rhythmic hum of Deep Earth Crystals. There were tables set up with different crystals on them. No table held more than one, and all of them were placed on copper plates. The look in the doctor’s eyes had blossomed into full anticipation, and it sickened her because she could see that she was nothing more than another specimen for him to use in his quest for knowledge.

  “You will show me exactly what sort of Pure Spirit you are.”

  ***

  Sophia Stevenson covered her mouth and tried not to retch. Horror clogged her throat and threatened to make her lose her breakfast.

  “Miss Sophia? We can’t be staying here. Your father wouldn’t approve. I shouldn’t have allowed you to instruct me to follow your friend’s carriage, for now we’re in a poor section of town. We shouldn’t be here.”

  Her driver sounded almost panicked, and she couldn’t blame the man for losing his nerve. No one ventured into that section of town without good reason.

  “Yes, let’s go.”

  Her driver wasted no time in letting the horses have their freedom. He put the team into motion so quickly she fell back into the seat, but she didn’t care.

  How could she sniffle about being jostled inside her carriage when her dearest friend was being locked away inside an insane asylum?

  The driver slowed his pace as they neared her father’s shop. Sophia found the last few minutes in the carriage almost unbearable. She was twitching with the need to do something, anything to help Janette. But even when she stood in the back room of her father’s shop where she and Janette had laughed so recently, she couldn’t decide what action to take. What could she do?

  Women had few rights, and Janette’s father could insist on treatment if he had a doctor to testify that she needed attention. Sophia felt her temper spike. Janette had even fewer rights than a thief because she hadn’t actually broken any law and wouldn’t be given a trial before being locked away. Why hadn’t Sophia noticed just how unfair the law was in regard to women? The suffragette cause suddenly took on a new appeal.

  Well, she was going to help her friend. Sophia paced in a circle and then several more as she tried to concoct a plan of action.

  “What is the matter, Sophia?” her sister demanded from the doorway.

  “Nothing, Cora. Go and help Father.”

  Her sister stiffened. “Nothing, is it? You sound like an Irish jig dancer pacing about. Don’t tell me nothing is bothering you. Why are you back so soon, anyway? I thought you were off to visit with Janette.”

  Sophia failed to hide the horror from her sister. Cora abandoned her harsh expression and hurried toward her so they might whisper. “What happened?”

  “Janette’s father sent her to…a clinic.”

  Cora paled. “We shall have to think of some way…to help her…” Cora’s voice became softer as she fought back tears.

  But it was the hopelessness in her tone that spurred Sophia into action.

  “Don’t you dare cry. We will not accept this…action from her father, do you understand? I refuse to weep for Janette because we cannot think of any way to help her.”

  Cora drew in a stiff breath. “I don’t like it any more than you do, but I can’t think of anyone who can help us. The law favors her father in every way. No constable will listen to us, and she doesn’t have a fiancé to battle on her behalf.”

  “Oh, Cora, you are perfect to think of such a thing!”

  Sophia hurried to the wardrobe and pulled it open. She had to force herself to move slowly so that her father wouldn’t come to investigate the amount of noise she made. Sophia put on the cycling outfit without hesitation.

  Cora frowned as she watched her sister button up the jacket. “What are you doing, Sophia?”

  “Going to find someone who can help Janette.”

  Cora stepped into her path. “If you go looking for Darius Lawley, you’ll only bring more trouble down on Janette. If she had refused to dance with him, he’d never have had the chance to take her into the garden and annoy her father so much.”

  Sophia stepped around her sister and pulled the leather top hat off the shelf, placing it firmly on her head. “You don’t understand, Cora. Janette and Mr. Lawley had already met, and I do honestly believe they just might be fated to be together.”

  “You’re mad, and if Janette is talking anything like you, I can begin to understand why her father believes her mentally ill.”

  “Don’t ever say such a horrible thing like that to me again.” Sophia yanked a kid glove onto her left hand. “Go out front and simper like a nitwit if you want to, but I will not listen to rubbish—curiosity and knowledge are not a disease. I will not leave Janette in that horrible place, not when I believe Darius Lawley can help her.”

  “But she won’t be able to go home if he does.”

  Sophia picked up a pair of glasses and put them on. The lenses were round and darkened to keep the sunlight from hurting her eyes. She ran her hands down the peplum of the jacket and tightened her resolve.

  “I believe Janette would rather live as an Illuminist than as a broken spirit.”

  Cora followed her, stopping at the back door. “I hope you’re right.”

  So did Sophia. Doubt needled her, but she pressed on, leaving the yard and crossing the street. She hoped and prayed, but she never hesitated.

  Three

  When Janette concentrated, she realized that the crystals all had different tones. There was a clear division in the center of the room, the tables separated by several yards.

  Male and female…

  Professor Yulric’s words rose from her memory.

  “What do you mean when you call me a Pure Spirit?”

  Dr. Nerval thumped his cane against the floor, but Janette didn’t let the sound startle her.

  “You shall have to decide what you wish, Doctor.” She walked around the room, pausing to look at several of the crystals. “I can continue to act the simpleton my father placed me in your care to ensure I become, or I can dispense with pretenses and hold an intelligent conversation with you.”

  She stopped and faced him with a bright smile. Janette folded her hands perfectly at waist level, right on top of left, with fingers curled inward.

  “A Pure Spirit has the ability to have the crystals interact kindly with the skin. It is hereditary and is only passed by bloodline. Just as a fish has scales to survive in the water, your skin has certain properties that Deep Earth Crystals share. Such properties insulate your skin from the power of the crystals. You are a human conductor of their power.” His eyes glowed with eager anticipation. He lifted his cane and pointed at one table. “If my informants are trustworthy, you handled a level-four crystal, which makes you a Pure Spirit. Pick that one up. I want to know if it’s true. You’re worthless otherwise.”

  That uneasy feeling crept across her thoughts again, making her hesitate. She was only an object to the man directing her. Never had she felt like her actions might matter any great amount beyond the boundaries of her own life. Now she wasn’t so sure. The crystals fascinated her, but she balked at performing obediently wh
en she had no knowledge of why the doctor wanted her to handle the crystals. Or, more importantly, what were Dr. Nerval’s plans for them?

  “And if I do not?” She turned her back on the crystal to face the doctor. “My father wouldn’t approve of this. He sent me here to be cured of any inclinations to explore Illuminist knowledge.”

  Dr. Nerval’s lips curved up slowly, the folds of skin hanging around his mouth crinkling grotesquely. A chill went down her spine because she was quite certain she witnessed a flare of enjoyment in his eyes. A cruel sort of pleasure that promised no mercy.

  The matron’s keys jingled as she fitted one into the door and turned it. The burly attendants were still there.

  “Take her,” the doctor announced calmly.

  Janette almost lost her resolve as panic rushed in along with the men. They grabbed her arms and hauled her out of the chamber. She wanted to resist, but the only true way she might defy the doctor was to deny him seeing her reduced to a screaming lunatic.

  The matron hurried ahead of them, flipping through her keys with a skill that proved she performed this task often, then yanked a door open. The attendants pushed Janette through it, both men appearing somewhat confused as she continued to comply with them.

  “Miss Janette is suffering from delusions caused by hysteria.”

  The doctor’s voice was like an eerie chant coming from behind her as the attendants forced her into a hardwood chair with thick legs and arms. Wide straps of leather were secured to the underside of the armrests, and the men quickly lashed them around her wrists. Each one had a solid brass buckle, and the attendants knew how to use them expertly.