To Sleep No More

by Deryn Lake

  ‘I simply can’t understand how Challice can have vanished,’ Jekyll was saying, while Rogers stood in the background muttering. ‘You say you wounded him?’

  ‘I believe so. I shot in the darkness but I really don’t see that I could have missed.’

  ‘Then where is the bastard? You have checked with the local physician?’

  ‘Yes, Lieutenant Jekyll,’ said Nicholas, a sudden edge beginning to creep into his voice. ‘I have.’

  Rogers rumbled from the back of the room. ‘Then he must have left Mayfield. God knows where he’s hiding out by now.’

  ‘Christ’s blood,’ swore Jekyll violently. ‘I am getting tired of this. These confounded villains seem to be getting the upper hand all the way along the line. I swear to God I’ll shoot to kill if I so much as see one of them.’

  ‘And get accused of unlawful shooting,’ said Rogers, moving forward so that his large frame blocked out the light. ‘You’ll have to be more subtle than that, Lieutenant.’

  The three men stared at each other moodily, until Nicholas, determined to end this uncomfortable meeting, said in a businesslike voice, ‘Well gentlemen, with Challice gone to earth, how do you propose to put your plan into action?’

  For once in his life Jekyll looked perplexed. ‘To be honest I am not sure how to proceed,’ he said. ‘It is imperative that we know when a run is to take place and summon the militia well in advance.’

  ‘Then I suggest,’ answered Nicholas, ‘that you bribe someone else to peach.’

  Both Rogers and the lieutenant turned to him simultaneously. ‘Who?’

  He shook his head. ‘I have no idea. As far as I can see the whole village is either loyal or frightened. I have come across no one who talks out of turn.’

  Jekyll sat down, resting his arms on the table and sinking his head into his hands. ‘There’s got to be a way,’ he said.

  Nicholas remained silent wondering, yet again, why the lieutenant made him so nervous. What was it about the man that gave him such authority?

  ‘If you can think of a plan I will do my best to put it into action,’ he said finally. ‘It is perfectly true that Kit Jarvis and his brother cannot go on having things their way for ever.’

  Jekyll shuddered exquisitely, his thin shoulders twitching. ‘Do not remind me of him, please. He bound me to a rock that submerges at high tide. He can be prey to no human compassion whatsoever. If it had not been for a passing fisherman ...’

  ‘Strange,’ answered Nicholas, without thinking. ‘I have heard that he is a flip-flap. Or at least has tendencies of that nature.’

  Jekyll’s head slowly rose and once more he turned his unnerving gaze on Nicholas. ‘Do you mean that he is a sodomite?’

  ‘I think he might like to be. I do not believe that he actually is.’

  ‘Then there’s our answer,’ said Jekyll, flashing his cold smile at his two companions.

  Rogers gave a raucous laugh. ‘Send in another one to draw him out you mean?’

  ‘Precisely. And I know the very man — or should I say creature? — for the job.’ Jekyll stood up, rubbing his hands together in sudden excitement. ‘One door closes, another opens. Thank you for that information, Lieutenant Grey.’

  ‘I did not think it would be so useful, Lieutenant Jekyll. Though I should have realised that to trap a man by exploiting his weaknesses is a fairly obvious choice.’

  ‘You balk at it? It has been done since history began.’

  He smiled thinly and Nicholas’s thoughts turned once more to Henrietta, wondering where she was at this precise moment and what she was doing.

  ‘... is that agreeable?’

  He realised that Jekyll had ended with a question and said hastily, ‘Er ... yes. Of course.’

  ‘Then you will return to Mayfield and concentrate on tracking down Challice and leave the Jarvis brothers to us?’

  ‘Yes. I’ll do that. Though I suspect he has returned to London long since.’

  ‘Probably,’ said Jekyll, looking gloomy for a second. He brightened again and added, ‘But if we can haul in the other fish it won’t matter if one slips through the net.’

  ‘No,’ said Nicholas thankfully. ‘We can settle for one of them getting away.’

  *

  As Henrietta and Jacob kissed for the last time, Lucy Baker’s coach turned into the circular drive of Luckhurst Hall and pulled up before the graceful pillars of its entrance. She descended and went to the front door, which was opened by a footman who said, ‘Mr Langham has gone out visiting patients, Miss Baker, and we are not expecting him back until later. Would you care to wait?’

  Still furious with her family, she answered roundly, ‘I most certainly would,’ and swept into the saloon, removing her mantle and handing it to another servant.

  After a moment, looking about her, Lucy sat down and stared out of the window, wondering how long she would have to wait before John’s return, and deciding that she was so cross she would remain all day if necessary.

  Her thoughts were broken by the arrival of the steward and, having been served with refreshment, Lucy walked through to John’s consulting room to take a book from its overflowing library. But even before she could put her hand up to take one, a sheaf of papers entitled, ‘Notes on the return to the past of Lucy Baker, Jacob Challice and Henrietta Trevor’, caught her eye and drew her, open-mouthed, to stand beside the desk on which they lay.

  She was astonished. So Henrietta had also been experimented upon. Knowing what she was doing was utterly wrong and that if John ever discovered the truth it might put an end to their friendship, Lucy nonetheless put out a furtive hand, grabbed the papers and hurried back into the saloon. She sat once more upon the window seat — shaded from outside by a flowing tree — and started to read.

  John had written his notes in a matter-of-fact medical style and the beginning, which recounted how he had actually discovered that patients could be sent into the past, was full of details that Lucy already knew. But it was as she read on that she found her jaw beginning to drop with astonishment, and had to put a hand to her head to stop herself growing faint.

  On the second occasion that I returned Jacob Challice, she read, he found himself in blackness thirty years before his death, which led me to the conclusion that the death by hanging had occurred to someone who was relatively youthful. I have so far been afraid to attempt a discovery of the identity of the hanged man for fear of Challice once more re-enacting his death, with fatal consequences. However, when I asked Challice to go back four hundred years he promptly named himself as Marcus de Flaviel, a squire of Gascony, and said that he lived in the palace at Mayfield, where it was his function to care for the then archbishop’s — named by Challice as de Stratford — half-wit brother.

  Lucy laid down the pages in growing excitement, then read on. The most amazing part of this return was that Challice (as Flaviel) claimed knowledge of Margaret de Sharndene (see notes on return of Lucy Baker), Margaret’s daughter Oriel (whose child he claimed to have fathered), and Paul d’Estrange, knight. If this is so it would appear that Lucy Baker and Challice were acquainted in a previous life, which would seem almost irrefutable evidence that such lives do exist.

  She turned over the page and read, Lucy Baker, when returned, adopted the identity of Margaret de Sharndene, wife of Robert de Sharndene. Questioning while in the dream state revealed that he had picked her out of two possible brides and she was greatly flattered by this attention. On a second occasion I moved her forward in time to when she was Robert’s wife and it seemed that she had several children by him, three of whom survived — namely Hamon, Piers and Oriel (see notes on Jacob Challice). Subsequent research amongst historical records shows me that not only did Margaret exist but that she outlived her husband, a victim of the Black Death, and in later years married a Paul d’Estrange, mentioned by Challice. Further evidence that the stories recounted by patients while in a dream state are not just figments of their subconscious imagination.

&nb
sp; Lucy looked up again, shaking her head in bewilderment. So she and Jacob Challice had been acquainted in her life as Margaret de Sharndene. It was almost beyond the limits of human capability to believe it. She turned over another page.

  By far the most shocking return was that experienced by Henrietta Trevor. In fact so extraordinary was it that I instructed her, while still in the dream state, to remember nothing of it and to believe that I had failed in my experiment with her. Miss Trevor returned to a previous life in which she had been a man!! John had underlined this and put two exclamation marks. Even more incredible she was on the brink of falling in love with a young woman named Jenna Casselowe and as Henrietta’s previous self (named as Benjamin Mist, carpenter of Mayfield) spoke words of great tenderness and endearment, yet of a rustic kind that someone as delicately raised as Miss Trevor would have been unlikely to know. For this reason I am forced to conclude of the three returns this surely provides the strongest evidence of a previous life, being so entirely different from the one at present enjoyed.

  Lucy dabbed at her forehead with a fine handkerchief. So Henrietta had been male. Would that explain a certain wilfulness about her?

  ‘Oh gracious,’ thought Lucy. ‘I almost wish I had not seen this.’

  She looked down once more to re-read the last few words and thus did not hear the door of the saloon open. It was not until footsteps had half entered the room that she looked up and saw Jacob Challice — a horrified expression on his face — standing in front of her.

  ‘Miss Baker!’ he said. ‘I had no idea that you were here.’

  She gave him a confident smile. ‘But I knew that you were in residence, Mr Challice. Mr Langham has confided in me but, despite that, there is no need for you to be afraid. I have no intention of betraying you.’

  He looked relieved. ‘I thank you most sincerely.’ He added more calmly, ‘Have you been waiting long? I do not believe Mr Langham will be back until late.’

  ‘I have been here long enough to read this,’ she answered, holding the sheaf of papers aloft.

  ‘What is it?’

  ‘Notes on your return to a former life — and also on mine.’

  ‘Mr Langham has been experimenting on you?’

  ‘Jacob, before we say any more I think you should read it. I believe that it will help you to understand why, putting aside moral issues, I could never break faith with you. We have known one another before, it would seem.’

  She handed him the papers omitting to give him the one dealing with Henrietta. But he saw it and asked, ‘Is that confidential?’

  ‘It deals with the return to the past of someone other than our two selves.’

  ‘May I not see it?’

  Not knowing quite why she did so, Lucy handed it to him, saying, ‘I shall leave the room while you read it. It deals with matters that are most strange and disconcerting.’

  ‘But whom does it concern?’

  ‘Why, the person who saved your life, Mr Challice. None other than Miss Henrietta Trevor herself.’

  *

  Long after dinner had been cleared away, John Langham, Lucy and Challice sat over the port and spoke of the miracle that had been discovered.

  ‘May we speak of Henrietta?’ said Lucy eventually.

  ‘I am not allowed to discuss a patient. It is against my professional oath,’ came the cautious reply.

  ‘Then I shall talk of her to Jacob,’ answered Lucy, who had had enough wine to make her brave. ‘Do you think she was Oriel?’

  ‘It is possible I suppose but we will never know, will we, Mr Langham?’

  ‘I shall never experiment with her again, if that is what you mean,’ answered John slowly. ‘It is not fair to hear these things come from her mouth without her knowledge.’

  ‘Send me back to before I was hanged,’ said Jacob suddenly. ‘I have to know the answer to that riddle. I have the strongest feeling that it could shed light on Miss Trevor’s experience.’

  John and Lucy looked from one to the other and she, by now firmly feeling the effects of port, said, ‘Oh please do so, John. This is surely the night when the truth must come out.’

  ‘But supposing it contains material not fit for your ears, my dear?’

  ‘I shall put my hands over them,’ she answered, laughing.

  It took John no further persuading and Jacob went at once to the dining-room’s most comfortable chair and sat in it, crossing one booted foot over the other, looking almost excited. Lucy watched in growing astonishment as Challice closed his eyes and appeared to slip quite easily into a peaceful sleep, despite the fact that he was still speaking to John.

  ‘Now I want you to go back to the life which ended in your death by hanging, do you understand me?’

  Jacob nodded and said, ‘Yes.’

  ‘Good.’ John, who had grown more confident in what he needed to do, now said, ‘I do not want you to relive that hanging. I do not want that at all. I would like you to go back three months before and tell me where you are.’

  There was silence and John repeated again, ‘Three months before your death, Challice. Where are you?’

  Again there was no response and then Jacob suddenly let out a slow agonised moan.

  ‘Merciful heaven,’ said Lucy, starting violently. ‘What is the matter with him?’

  ‘I don’t know,’ answered John quietly. ‘I’ll try to find out.’ In a louder voice he said, ‘Jacob, what is it? Are you ill?’

  In a higher tone than he normally used, Challice answered, ‘I wish Benjamin would come. What can be keeping him. Oh!’ He cried out again, obviously in distress.

  John and Lucy stared at each other and both said ‘Benjamin!’ with one voice, Lucy adding, ‘So he was right. He did know Henrietta.’

  But their conversation was halted by another moan from Challice. ‘Oh God, he must come soon.’ Then a look of determination crossed his face and he said, ‘I’ll cry out no more, no matter what. I shall ride this sea alone if I have to.’

  ‘What is happening to him?’ said Lucy. ‘What sea is he talking about?’

  ‘I do believe,’ answered John wonderingly, ‘that Jacob is experiencing labour.’

  They stared at each other in disbelief as Challice, his expression one of total concentration, obviously began to feel a contraction.

  ‘Oh God’s life, I want my husband,’ he said, between gritted teeth.

  ‘It’s all right, Jenna,’ said John. ‘He’s here. He’s just arrived. Everything is going to be all right. You are Jenna, aren’t you?’

  ‘Yes,’ gasped Jacob, ‘that is my name — Jenna Mist. He won’t go away again, will he?’

  ‘Oh no,’ said John, very seriously indeed. ‘It is my belief that Benjamin will never go away from you, not until the end of time.’

  Forty-three

  The heat at noon on that blazing day in late July, 1721, was indescribable, and most sensible people sat within their houses with the blinds drawn, or else took refuge in the cool and cavernous welcome of an ale house. It seemed that only labourers and fools were abroad and Nicholas Grey, riding fast towards Glynde and wearing an entirely new outfit of clothes, wondered with a wry grin into which category he fell.

  Ruefully, Nicholas looked back over the last few weeks — weeks in which Henrietta had returned home to her family, Jacob had vanished from Mayfield, and the Baker family had resumed their normal way of life — and wondered if there was any purpose left in his remaining a Riding Officer, or even staying in that small, smuggler-plagued Sussex village. For what good could he do? Jekyll and Rogers had their own schemes to bring Kit Jarvis to justice, and the highwayman had gone. At that moment, on his way to see the girl with whom he was hopelessly in love, Nicholas felt like giving everything up and starting life again, as a musician perhaps, or even a strolling player.

  How he had received an invitation to dine at Glynde Place; he could not be sure. Nicholas had written to Mrs Trevor — so desperate to see Henrietta that he would have dared anything —
and requested that he might be permitted to call. To his astonishment an invitation had followed almost at once. Then, Nicholas thought, the true fool had shown himself.

  He had rushed to Hastings to a good but reasonably priced tailor — nothing like as stylish as his counterpart in London, of course, but Riding Officers hardly earned a fortune — and had ordered a new suit made of embroidered satin, comprising a collarless close-fitted coat, waisted and flared to the knee; a glorious waistcoat, left open to reveal a frilled shirt-front with ruffles at the wrist; and knee-breeches with long, fine stockings, together with buckled shoes.

  But even as he had put it on, Nicholas had felt himself somewhat pathetic, an ordinary young man dressed as a fop. Then his fighting spirit had returned. Jacob Challice had vanished and he, Nicholas, had as much right to call on Miss Trevor as the next man, had he but had the social position and fortune necessary to ask her mother for her hand. Yet fate had many strange quirks and twists before situations were resolved, and comforting himself with the thought that Mrs Trevor might like him so well she would make history and welcome one of the lower orders as a son-in-law, Nicholas proceeded on through the gruelling heat.

  By the time he reached the village of Glynde he was in a lather of sweat and, ignoring two maidens who watched him, giggling all the while, removed all clothes but his breeches and doused himself beneath the pump. Then he rubbed himself with some scented water kept in his saddle bag, and dressed again, sedately entering the grounds of the big house and passing through the cherry garden, and the arch, before finally going into the quadrangle, to dismount at the front door.

  They were all waiting for him in the long gallery above and, as Nicholas climbed the magnificent staircase, he felt this to be the most nerve-wracking moment of his life. But once inside the room so many impressions swamped him that he was no longer able to think of himself seeing, instead, the glorious panelling of the gallery walls, the solemn face of the little boy who was now the squire, the dark beauty of Mrs Trevor, and the fact that Henrietta had lost her sparkle and stood up to welcome him a pale shadow of the girl with whom he had fallen in love at first sight.