Sweet Asylum

by Tracy L. Ward

  Chapter 12

  That followed labour in the field

  From light to dark when toil could yield

  Ainsley spent much of the day in his room, a book his only excuse for being such a recluse. The noise of the house did not find him in the confines of his room, his refuge; even still, he could not concentrate on one word in print before him. Mental images plagued him relentlessly, reminding him of the life that waited back in London, the reality from which he was so desperate to escape. He may have escaped judicial repercussions, for now, but his own conscience would not allow him peace. The drink at his side made the pain in his knee tolerable but the pain in his heart was relentless.

  He sat in his green, velvet chair, placed next to the windows with the curtains in place. He received just enough light by which to read the pages and no more. His book should have been better chosen, instead of hastily grabbed. He was not in the mood for Thomas Moore.

  The doorknob to his room began to shutter, the unmistakable movement of someone on the other side attempting to enter. Ainsley had closed it, preferring everyone believe he was asleep. Ainsley ignored the rattling at first and after a time it ceased before starting up again with greater vehemence.

  “George? Hubert?” Ainsley called from his chair.

  The doorknob stopped and the room fell silent. No one replied. Ainsley waited, listening intently for the sound of the floorboards outside his door to signal their departure.

  Nothing.

  Ainsley exhaled and lifted his book to continue reading. He heard a click from the door and looked again, expecting it to open, perhaps with one of the boys asking for him to play. Again there was nothing.

  “What do you need, boys?” he asked, amused at their resistance to talk to him.

  Finally, Ainsley put his book down, wondering why the boys felt the need to be silent. He walked toward the door in a gentle, easy stride, not wanting to scare them off. Just as his hand reached for the doorknob, it shook violently.

  Ainsley jumped back and watched as the door shuddered on its hinges, the knob rattling and turning in its place with such force he knew two young boys could not be responsible. After a minute, everything stopped. Ainsley stood stunned, wondering at what he had just witnessed, and then he flung the door wide open, intent on catching the culprit on the other side.

  He was met with an empty hall. “What in—” Ainsley did not finish. Instead, he listened, and heard nothing. He walked the hall, peering in each room, listening for sounds of a prankster. At the top of the stairs he heard a bang, the sound of his book hitting the wood floor in his room, and when he turned around his bedroom door slammed.

  “So you just put pins around the wings?” Jonas asked, looking up from an attempt at entomology. “How do you know what will look best?”

  Ainsley shrugged from his seat on the other side of the library. “That’s what I have been trying to figure out for a week now,” he said. “It takes practice.” Ainsley lifted his drawing pencil from his sketchbook and looked over. “Don’t waste too many of my specimens,” he warned. “They aren’t easy to find, you know.”

  “You probably ordered them from a catalogue,” Jonas quipped.

  A rap on the door signalled Nathaniel’s entrance. The young man smiled as he surveyed the room, seeing both Ainsley and Jonas within and most likely delighted with his luck. Ainsley was far less amused. The only thing he hated more than being host was playing nanny for those younger than him.

  “I’m not disturbing important hospital business, am I?” Nathaniel asked, genuinely startled at the prospect.

  Ainsley snorted. “Yes, of course.” Ainsley nodded toward Jonas. “Once he’s completed resuscitating that scarab beetle, he’ll finally get a chance to amputate one of my left toes. For the sake of science, you see.” He flashed the gullible Nathaniel a fleeting smile before returning his attention to his sketchbook. He made no attempts to hide his annoyance.

  Nathaniel licked his lips. “I only ask because I find it all so fascinating.” He moved farther into the room and stood over Jonas.

  “You find it fascinating because you know Aunt Louisa would never allow it nor would my uncle. You are just going to have to stick to more respectable means of earning a living, like gambling or irresponsible speculation.” Ainsley didn’t bother to look up.

  The room fell quiet after that but Nathaniel refused to leave. Eventually, Jonas threw his hands up and pushed himself away from the desk. “I fold,” he said, tossing a final pin down with the others. “I haven’t the patience for beetles and dragonflies.”

  “Not enough glory in it for your liking?” Ainsley asked, only half joking. Two years earlier they had both graduated with honours from Edinburgh Medical School. While Ainsley was confined to the morgue by circumstance of his birth as well as the reality of his slow if accurate hands, Jonas was able to flourish as a prominent surgeon, providing services to many noble men and women, the types of people who’d recognize Ainsley in a heartbeat.

  “You understand that isn’t why I do it,” Jonas answered.

  “Isn’t it why every surgeon does it? So we can put on airs, play God, and woo women?”

  Jonas scratched at the side of his nose. Ainsley knew he was right and didn’t need any agreement from his friend.

  “Embitterment is not a flattering look for you,” Jonas said gently. Jonas had a way of making a point quietly. He was couth without being self-righteous and Ainsley hated him greatly for it. “I had hoped my presence here would alleviate that.”

  “I know why you are here, so let’s not bother pretending you visit solely for my benefit,” Ainsley said as he looked up sharply. “Margaret fancies herself a bluestocking and so willingness is of most importance. I said my piece on the issue. It’s my father you need to convince.”

  Jonas was quiet for a moment. He rested his knuckles on the desktop and closed his eyes. Jonas and Margaret were too friendly for being so opposite. As a surgeon, even a well-respected one, he’d never earn any favour with their father. Margaret was Lord Marshall’s only daughter and it was always expected she would marry well. If Ainsley’s father hadn’t already picked the lucky man out himself, Ainsley had no doubt he’d steer her toward someone with a title to inherit as well as property and yearly earnings that were too far out of reach for a young, upstart surgeon.

  Jonas understood all these things, as did Margaret, but for some reason their liaison continued, drawn to each other like moths to a flame. It was clear things would not end well.

  “You intend to ask Cousin Margaret for her hand?” Nathaniel asked excitedly.

  Ainsley saw Jonas’s gaze fall to the floor. Both had nearly forgotten the boy was still in the room.

  Jonas turned from them then, choosing not to answer and walked for the window, perhaps hoping the subject would end there, but Ainsley wasn’t about to let things go so easily. He snapped his sketchbook shut and tossed it to a nearby table.

  “My friend forgets,” Ainsley started to explain, for Nathaniel’s benefit mostly, “as much as my sister is fond of him, and clearly she is, she would never be permitted to marry him, by our father or society.”

  “I thought I’d let Margaret decide,” Jonas said, without bothering to turn to look at them.

  “How very modern,” Ainsley said. He stood then, and walked to the desk and the project Jonas had abandoned. “I think—”

  Margaret entered then, without acknowledging that she had interrupted their conversation. She pressed her finger to her lips, a signal for them to be quiet. Walking the width of the room, she passed in front of the fireplace and opened the hidden cupboard along the wall.

  Amidst the initial confusion, Ainsley laughed and almost said his sister’s name when Aunt Louisa entered the room. “Have any of you seen Lady Margaret?” she asked. Suddenly his sister’s hiding spot made sense.

  The three shook their heads in near unison. “No, can’t say we have,” Ainsley answered calmly.

  Aunt Louisa’s should
ers sank as she exhaled. “Margaret and I have been invited for tea. I can’t stand the thought of taking tea with her all on my own.”

  Ainsley nodded, as if he understood her plight. “Dreadful,” he said under his breath.

  “Nathaniel, come help your mama for a moment.” She motioned with her finger for him to follow her. He obeyed with only a slight hesitation.

  “She’s gone,” Ainsley said after a time, loud enough for Margaret to hear.

  Margaret opened the secret door slightly. “I’ve never been called upon to entertain so much in my entire life,” she said quietly. She looked weary and downtrodden, not the pleasant, even-keeled young woman Ainsley knew her to be.

  There was a rap on the door. Reactively, Margaret ducked back into her hiding place before Ainsley could tell her it was only Julia.

  “Mr. Garret Owen has come, sir,” she said to Ainsley. “He said he’d like a word with you.”

  Ainsley gave a quick glance to Jonas, who nodded and began to exit the room.

  Julia stopped him at the door. “Dr. Davies, he means to speak with both of you.”

  Garret appeared at the door, hat in hand, and ill at ease. He wore what appeared to be his best suit, clean and freshly pressed, without a speck of dirt or sign of his work in the stables. Samuel stood behind him, even less certain that they should have come. Both Ainsley and Jonas greeted the man with a handshake and that’s when Ainsley noticed the open wound on Samuel’s cheek.

  “Let me offer apologies for our intrusion,” Garret said.

  “No, no,” Ainsley answered, gesturing to the sofa and taking a seat opposite him. Jonas took a seat in a chair to the side. “Julia, some tea for our guests, please,” Ainsley said.

  Julia nodded and left the room.

  “That’s one hell of a cut there,” Ainsley said. “A stitch or two from my friend here ought to stop the bleeding.”

  “We’ve been told you aren’t so bad with a needle and thread yourself, Mr. Marshall,” Garret said. “Or is it Dr. Marshall amongst friends?”

  Garret licked his lips and smiled out the corner of his mouth. “Margaret told us. She said you could give Samuel a stitch or two.”

  “Jonas, will you fetch my bag?” Ainsley asked, turning to his friend. He couldn’t help but give his friend a look of defeat. He had been found out and he needed to tread carefully if he didn’t want his secret spread throughout the county. Acknowledging Ainsley’s predicament, Jonas nodded and left the room. He returned with Ainsley’s medical bag in hand.

  Once settled into the desk chair, Samuel positioned opposite him on the settee, Ainsley set about to prepare a needle and bit of thread. Ainsley eyed the cut, and cleaned it with a bit of alcohol and gauze. “I haven’t anything for the pain,” Ainsley said.

  Samuel did not flinch at the suggestion.

  “This is not the only reason for my visit,” Garret said, rubbing the back of his neck nervously. “My family needs your help.”

  Ainsley’s eyes darted to Jonas, who looked just as unimpressed as Ainsley felt.

  “I’m sorry. I’m not quite sure how to say this.” Garret stammered and let out along breath. “My sister is with child,” Garret said suddenly, his voice cracking midsentence.

  Pausing his work, Ainsley held the needle steady, wincing internally at Garret’s confession. Two days ago, the girl was perched on the roof wishing for death, and now Ainsley knew why. After a moment, Ainsley resumed work on Samuel’s cut. Three stitches finished the job and he was able to snip the thread.

  “Don’t remove these until the skin has healed,” he cautioned as he dabbed an alcohol-drenched cloth on the cut. “Clean it a few times a day with this.” Samuel accepted the bottle of alcohol but said nothing.

  “No one else in our family knows,” Garret continued as Ainsley cleaned up his work area. “I only guessed it when I found her ill one morning.” He placed his hands over his face for a few seconds before beginning again. “She’d been known to go missing, sometimes for hours at a time without any explanation as to where she had been. When she disappeared I figured she’d eloped with the child’s father.”

  “That is why you did not raise alarm,” Ainsley answered, closing the clasp of his bag and placing it on the floor next to his chair.

  Garret nodded. “Our family is very well-known in these parts. We could not afford such an assignation to our character. If she were found with a man, unmarried, we did not want it broadcast to the town.”

  Ainsley nodded, aware of the delicate balance between scandal and respectability.

  “Your family has shown us such kindness. I hate to ask for further assistance.” He used his palm to settle the nervous bounce of his knee. “Are there not means to end an unwanted pregnancy?” Garret asked, meeting Ainsley’s gaze squarely. “Medically?”

  Ainsley glanced to Jonas uneasily. Procedures to terminate unwanted pregnancies did exist but it wasn’t common medical knowledge and it certainly wasn’t covered in medical school. Poorly tested and haphazardly documented, the act was illegal and could not only cost a doctor his license but also what little respect he had in the community.

  “What you are asking is illegal,” Jonas explained evenly. “Any respectable surgeon would never undertake such a task openly.”

  “Yes but…” The horse trainer hesitated and looked at his hands, which cupped his knees. Suddenly, he raised his gaze and looked Ainsley squarely in the eyes. “No one knows you are a medical doctor, just as no one knows my sister’s condition. We will keep your secret, if you keep ours.”

  Unsure how his medical training had led him to this, Ainsley rubbed his temple with the tips of his fingers. It was indeed unfortunate that Ivy should find herself in this predicament but Ainsley was not in a position to assist, not when so many moral questions already weighed on his heart. “Have you no relatives to send her to for a few months?” Ainsley asked, desperate for an alternative solution. “Until the child is born and can be adopted.”

  “No, sir,” Garret answered. “Our father would become suspicious. He’s a difficult man at the best of times.”

  Ainsley could not explain the discomfort he felt regarding the question put to him. Many young women had been brought to his morgue, dead and found to be with child. It seemed so tragic to snuff a life because of one unfortunate circumstance. Not many choices existed for these women, who were often friendless and alone, having been cast out of their families and unable to support the young life inside them. Orphanages as well were not the best places for a child to grow up. Rife with violence and abuse, death was often a release for the motherless who found themselves there.

  He also could not help feeling as if he were being dealt an ultimatum. He could either relieve Ivy of her unfortunate circumstance, and in doing so save her family from scandal, or find himself and his double life exposed, which would bring new scandal down on his family.

  Ainsley eyed Garret, trying to read the man, who by all accounts was unreadable. Neither humble nor boastful, the horse trainer was in a class all his own.

  “If either of you learned gentlemen could help, my family would—”

  “What does Ivy wish to do?” Jonas asked suddenly.

  Garret chuckled slightly. “I haven’t spoken to her yet.”

  “Seems presumptuous to arrange this without her knowledge,” Ainsley said.

  Garret’s gaze drifted from Ainsley to Jonas and back again. “I am nearly positive this is what she wants,” he said.

  “And the father of the child?”

  Garret seemed to supress a sneer at the mention of another party involved. “I haven’t a clue and my sister refuses to tell us.”

  Ainsley nodded, though he wasn’t convinced of the truth of this statement. “I’ll need some time to think it over,” Ainsley said as he stood.

  “I’ll pay you. Whatever you need, it’s yours,” Garret said quickly, standing and circling in place to follow Ainsley as he moved away from the sitting area. “A horse, perhaps, a thoroughb
red racehorse.”

  Ainsley sighed and placed his hands in his pockets. “I said I would think it over, Mr. Owen,” Ainsley said.

  “Thank you, sir.”

  Garret had only been gone a minute before Margaret emerged from her hiding place. Her downtrodden expression bore the weight of Ainsley’s heart as their eyes met.

  “Did you know about this?” Ainsley asked.

  Margaret said nothing to confirm or deny his suspicion. Her eyes fell to the floor as she pressed her lips together. “What are you going to do?” she asked

  Jonas began to close the door, just as Julia appeared with a tray for tea. “Oh sorry,” she said, as she looked over the room. “Have the guests left already?” she asked.

  “Yes,” Ainsley answered. “Sorry to have bothered you, Julia.”

  Julia set the tray down and set about to pour tea for everyone.

  “Ivy would rather die than have that baby,” Margaret said. “She told me as much.”

  Ainsley moved toward his desk and plucked a pen from amongst his papers. “I don’t want to get involved.” His words lacked conviction and he knew it. This was not a conversation about his needs as much as it was a conversation about Ivy’s needs. But the law was clear. He could not follow through with Garret’s request without jeopardizing himself and his family. “It’s just a baby, Margaret,” he said. “There are worse things to befall a young woman.” He slipped into his chair and leaned back, still twisting the pen with his fingers.

  “She’s so slight, I believe a full-term labour will kill her,” Margaret said.

  “It’s illegal.”

  Jonas snorted. “You’ve never worried about upholding the law before.”

  Julia placed a cup of steaming tea on the desk where Ainsley sat.

  “You can’t tell me you support this plan?” Ainsley asked, after pulling the cup toward him.

  “You and I both know what happens at the result of untrained hands,” Jonas answered. “If you don’t do it, they’ll find someone else, someone who was probably trained as a barber. She could bleed out or die.”