Sweet Asylum

by Tracy L. Ward

  “It’s a baby, Jonas!” Ainsley protested.

  “Not yet, it isn’t,” Jonas answered.

  Ainsley did not disagree with Jonas, not entirely. Not much time in school had been dedicated to women’s health and what was taught was met with snickers and snide remarks from the male students. In a profession where the line between science and superstition was still being defined, many female ailments were left unstudied, leading doctors to draw their own conclusions about the whys and wherefores. The termination of a pregnancy was not viewed as a decision for women, but rather a decision for the courts.

  Ainsley rubbed a hand over his face, secretly wondering how his family had become embroiled in such a debate. “Do you think he is trying to blackmail me?” he said at last.

  “I think he was trying to tell you that we all have secrets to keep,” Jonas said.

  The room fell quiet as the gravity of the situation set in. After a time, Ainsley spoke. “I won’t do it,” Ainsley said, almost apologetically. “I can’t.”

  Jonas stood taller and shook his head. “Then I will do it,” he said. “I’ll need someone to help—not you,” he said, raising his hand to Margaret, who had been quick to step forward.

  “Why ever not?” she protested.

  “Do you want me to help the girl or not?” Jonas asked, turning toward her. Ainsley watched from his side of the room as Margaret rolled her hands into fists, angered at Jonas’s dismissal.

  “I don’t see why I can’t assist you,” she said.

  “I’ll help,” Julia said at last. Everyone had nearly forgotten she was in the room. She stood to the side with the empty tea tray in her hands. “I’ll help you with Miss Ivy.”

  “Julia…” Ainsley could not help but breathe her name as she spoke.

  Julia ignored Ainsley’s protest. “I’ve assisted Mr. Marshall with a few procedures in the past and I’ve assisted with a few births at the orphanage. Will you take me?” she asked, turning to Jonas.

  Jonas nodded. “Yes,” he said somberly. “I’d be glad of it. Thank you.”

  “No,” Ainsley said harshly. “Certainly not.”

  “It’s decided, Peter,” Jonas said sternly.

  Julia pressed her lips together and lowered her gaze. She slipped from the room but Ainsley marched after her, pulling her back to look at him once they reached the back hall.

  “You don’t have to do this,” he said, almost pleading with her.

  “I know,” she answered easily. She met his gaze and offered a soft smile. “I want to do this. For the girl.” She smiled slightly and turned to leave.

  “What if I said no,” he said, crossing his arms over his chest.

  Julia stopped her retreat and turned to look at him again.

  “You are under my employ. I can stop this entire thing if I had a mind to.”

  Julia nodded. “You could.” She smiled a knowing smile, challenging him and yet knowing he would not do as he threatened.

  “The procedure is dangerous,” he said, lowering his voice and stepping closer. “What if she can never have another child—or worse.” Ainsley swallowed. “Women die on the table all the time. They bleed out or develop infections. Are you prepared to have that kind of blood on your hands?” As if to drive home his point he took her slim hands in his, and felt the slight roughness there from her work about the house.

  Julia’s eyes searched his face. “We all have blood on our hands,” she said after a moment of silence. “Some of us are just better at hiding it than others.” She leaned forward then and pressed her lips into his gently. The touch, so openly and freely given, sent a sensation up his spine. “It will be all right,” she whispered when she pulled away.

  Chapter 13

  Real happiness with little gain,

  Rich thoughtless health unknown to pain:

  For some time after Garret’s visit Ainsley had an uneasy feeling in the pit of his stomach. He wondered if this was truly what Ivy wanted and questioned what his answer would have been if Ivy had asked him herself. He worried that the girl was being pressured into an abortion by her brother.

  At the top of the stairs Ainsley turned to head to his room but stopped himself. Instead, he turned toward his mother’s bedroom at the farthest end of the opposite hall. It was the only remaining room in the house that had not been assigned to anyone and it stood untouched since their mother was last living at The Briar.

  Ainsley pushed open the door and felt a sense of relief, seeing it as it was, as he remembered it as a child. Had their mother been alive Ainsley could have, and no doubt would have, confided his predicament to her. It was because of her influence that he was driven to help others. It was a condition that weakened him, he thought, especially in a world as callous as he now understood it to be.

  He made his way to one of the windows that overlooked the south lawn. He could not see Summer Hill from his position but he knew it sat just beyond the hills and the standing of trees. A road scarcely wide enough for more than a cart and not maintained in any way skirted the western boundary of The Briar, winding its way over the small mounds. It was from there that he could estimate how far Ivy had walked in the rain to get to The Briar from Summer Hill.

  “What do you think Mother would say to us right now?” Margaret asked from behind him. When Ainsley turned he saw her walk into the room and stand at the window alongside him.

  Ainsley could not bring himself to answer the question. Any fear he had of disappointing his mother before was only made worse by the fact that she was gone and he would never know.

  “When you were away at school she’d go on and on about what a great man you would be one day. How you’d save countless lives or discover some medical miracle. She knew that you’d sacrifice yourself to save others.” Margaret took her gaze from the view and looked at Ainsley directly. “She believed in you more than you ever believed in yourself.”

  Ainsley smiled. “She couldn’t have known what it’s really like,” he said. “She couldn’t have known what it would cost me, what it would cost you.”

  “This isn’t you, Peter,” she said. “This moody, irritable, unapproachable man. I just…” Margaret stopped herself and shook her head. “I just wonder what you are afraid of.”

  “I’m not afraid.”

  “Yes, you are!” Margaret turned to him. “You’re afraid there are other monsters out there preying upon innocent people and you are afraid that you won’t be able to do anything to stop them.”

  “I’m afraid of losing you, Margaret!”

  Margaret’s face softened as she looked at him.

  “I’ve already lost Mother. If I lose you, what am I left with?” Ainsley charged. “A brother who believes himself better than me in almost every way and a father who’d rather disown me than admit my chosen profession to the world. You are the only one who knows both sides of me and the only one proud of that fact.”

  Margaret grew quiet, pondering Ainsley’s words thoughtfully. Ainsley turned his attention back to the window, wanting to look anywhere but at the sister who had grown so disappointed in him.

  But this time the landscape had changed. Instead of the idyllic countryside, he saw a great plume of black smoke wafting into the otherwise blue sky.

  Ainsley used the window to brace himself as he leaned in slightly closer. It was coming from Summer Hill.

  “Fire,” he said instantly. “There’s a fire!”

  Margaret looked out the window. “It’s Summer Hill,” she breathed. “That’s the only house for miles.”

  “Gather some blankets and towels. And my medical bag. And find Jonas!” Ainsley was almost across the room when the door opened suddenly and Julia appeared, out of breath and frantic. “There’s a fire!” she gasped. Hurried feet running the length of the hall could be heard behind her as well as shouts from other servants.

  Ainsley passed her and followed the movements of servants rushing to the front of the house. At the steps Ainsley could see on the horizon the dark
plume of smoke inking the clear sky.

  “Jamieson and Maxwell are hitching the horses to the carriage,” Julia said, appearing at his side.

  “I can ride,” Ainsley said, removing his jacket and handing it to her.

  “Yes, a horse is ready.” She took his jacket and he began to roll up his sleeves.

  Aunt Louisa appeared then, rushing down the stairs as servants bounced frantically between each other. “What’s going on?”

  “A fire, ma’am,” Julia answered.

  Jonas and Nathaniel emerged then from the library.

  “Jonas, Nathaniel, can you ride?” Ainsley asked. Both shook their heads.

  “Do elephants count?” Nathaniel asked, a smile curling the edges of his lips.

  Ainsley gave him an annoyed look. It was hardly the time for such quips. “You head over in the carriage,” Ainsley ordered with a pointed finger. He began to a quick march toward the stables, where a boy was leading a saddled gelding. He heaved himself up into the saddle but before he had a chance to kick the horse into a trot Margaret rushed toward him and took hold of the reins.

  “Peter, what do we do?” she asked.

  “We need to get everyone over there. Bring blankets, towels, anything we can use to treat the wounded. And don’t forget my medical bag.”

  A bucket brigade had already formed, drawing water from the small pond opposite the barn. The orange flames peaked out from the window openings of the barn’s stone foundation, most likely feeding off the dry straw and timber. As Ainsley tethered his gelding to the fence a safe distance away, he saw Garret was trying to calm a frantic horse. The mare was bucking and pulling back on its reins, edging closer and closer to the fire.

  “The horse! The horse!” someone yelled.

  Ainsley ran forward, urging Garret to drop the reins before hitting the mare sternly on its flank. The horse took off at a gallop, heading down the laneway as if escaping to town.

  “We have to get the horses out!” Garret yelled over the roar of the flames and orders from the brigade.

  Garret led Ainsley to the back portion of the barn where flames hadn’t yet reached. Samuel was already there, opening the stalls one by one, unlatching the iron, and pulling the terrified animals from their stalls by their halters. Ainsley could hear wood snapping above him as pieces of charred roof, still aflame, rained down on them.

  The back portion of the barn grew warm and then hot and sweltering. Ainsley could feel the flames growing closer but he dared not look. Like a machine, they went down the line, releasing the horses and praying they didn’t get trampled in the chaos of it all.

  “Help!”

  Ainsley turned and raised his arm to shield his face from the heat of the flames. Unable to see past the bright orange glow, he squinted and realized Garret was struggling with a horse in the opposite stall. The animal had kicked and stomped at the ground in such a panic his halter had gotten caught on a fallen board. Garret was frantically trying to free the mare, which looked to Ainsley with wide, terrified eyes.

  The fire was inching toward them, catching bits of straw that littered the ground in clumps.

  Together, Ainsley and Garret lifted the board high enough so Samuel could pull the horse free. Without a backward glance it ran for the back door of the barn, disappearing in a swirl of black smoke.

  The heat played at Ainsley’s throat, sending him into a fit of coughing. He grabbed Garret’s arm and pulled him out of the stall, willing himself to ignore the stinging in his eyes. A thunderous crack rang out over their heads.

  “It’s coming down!” someone yelled beyond the flames.

  Garret turned toward the flames but Ainsley grabbed him and thrust him toward the back door.

  “The others!” Garret called, as a horse’s panic-stricken whinny erupted from the other side of the flames.

  “We cannot get to them!” Ainsley yelled. “We are too late.”

  Nearly dragging Garret from the structure, Ainsley stumbled from the flames, narrowly missing a flaming beam of wood that broke free from the rafters. The three of them ran around the edge of the building to see a larger group of men had formed a line that reached from the pond up the hill to the barn. The slippery mud, left by weeks of relentless rain, made it difficult for anyone to move and only slowed down progress. The sky was a radiant blue that evening without a cloud for miles. There was no hope of rain to help them that day.

  “Look out!” a man yelled. “She’s coming down.”

  A loud crack boomed over the chaos as the ridgepole of the barn buckled. Some of the supporting beams collapsed inward but the ridgepole drifted sideways, tilting in the direction of the house.

  “The house!”

  “It’s heading for the house!”

  Indecipherable shouts came from all around as the brigade, a mixture of local men who had all responded at the sight of the smoke, rallied to save the home.

  A man began pulling a horseless wagon out from the side of the barn and Ainsley noticed the wheels had caught fire from the heat. With each turn the dry grass singed and it was only a matter of time before the embers grew into flames.

  “Stop!” Ainsley shouted as he rushed for the man. As he approached, Ainsley saw a burn wound along the man’s arm. “We need water!” Ainsley yelled. He pulled the man away from the burning wagon and urged him toward the pond. “Run and submerse yourself,” Ainsley said. “I will see to it once the flames are gone. Go!”

  The man hurried to the water and eagerly dove in, hissing at the pain that erupted in his arm. Another man appeared with two buckets of water. Together he and Ainsley doused the flames on the carriage and then guided it away from the barn and into the field. When Ainsley turned he saw his family’s carriage coming up the lane with marked speed. Inside sat Jonas, Margaret, Julia, Jamieson, and Maxwell, clinging to the side of the wagon as it bounded over the rough ground. Ainsley grabbed the harness as it drew near and guided the horse to where he could fasten it to the fence.

  Maxwell and Jamieson ran to join the brigade without saying anything to Ainsley. Julia and Margaret jumped down, carrying blankets and towels to treat the wounded.

  “Where’s Ivy?” Margaret asked, panicked.

  “I saw her near the house,” Ainsley said. “Keep her away, Margaret.”

  His sister nodded as she and Julia bypassed a group of townswomen who’d come to watch, never daring to pass the safety of the fence line, and ran for the house.

  An hour passed easily as Ainsley saw to the wounded, aware of Julia’s and Margaret’s movements and intent on keeping an eye on them. The fires burned so hot many men suffered burns on their arms and faces as they fought the flames. Julia brought him long bandages, ripped from various linens brought to the scene by neighbours. And together they treated the open and singed flesh with a carbolic acid solution before wrapping the wounds.

  Periodically Ainsley scanned the yard for Margaret and eventually spotted her close to the house with a full laundry tub in front of her. She was drenching blankets and linens and placing them on the arms and shoulders of the men so they could approach the heat. Behind her stood a woman who looked similar to Margaret but the heat ripples and heavy smoke made it difficult for Ainsley to see properly. Amongst the chaos and smoke Ainsley didn’t recognize her at first and then it hit him like a punch to the gut.

  “Mother?”

  Ainsley swallowed back flooding emotions, a relief sullied by confusion. She’d been dead for half a year and what he was seeing just wasn’t possible.

  Then he realized she was looking at him, expressionless but certainly registering him. Feeling panic rising inside him, Ainsley turned away, focusing instead on the man in agony next to him. “My friend will bring you a salve in the morning,” he said, tying on a strip of cloth.

  Grateful, the man nodded, and Ainsley helped him to his feet. Ainsley watched as the man left, wanting a reason to not turn back to Margaret. Curiosity got the better of him, though, and he looked once again. Sure enough, Mother
was there, unscathed by the tragedy all around them. She was not truly there, of course. No one else saw her; Ainsley could tell by the way everyone walked by her, directing the questions to Margaret as they approached.

  Ainsley rubbed away the beads of sweat cascading from his hairline. She simply wasn’t there, no matter how vivid the image. The thought disturbed him tremendously. Ainsley was slowly losing grip on reality. There simply was no other explanation.

  “Peter!”

  Julia collided with him as she ran and clung to him, pulling him farther from the barn. The barn had buckled and now the mortar between the stones cracked.

  “Away! Away!” Ainsley yelled, waving his arms to bring stragglers away from the collapsing building. Julia clung to him, frightened, and he gladly wrapped his arm around her and guided her back from the flames. Within two steps he lifted her into his arms and ran just as a loud crack pierced the air. The world fell silent, offering only harrowing images of everyone running as far from the barn as they could. As the stones and beams tumbled, the roar of the fire subsided. When Ainsley turned back, he saw that the structure had fallen within ten feet of the farmhouse.

  He held to Julia, even as her body slid from his arms. They stood embracing for the shortest of moments before Ainsley felt duty-bound to run back to help extinguish the remaining flames. He cupped her face, pressing a soft kiss onto her forehead before running back to the barn.

  “They’re trapped!” one man yelled, calling everyone to help.

  As the day turned to night the frantic search for the wounded began.

  Chapter 14

  Though, leaning on my spade to rest,

  I've thought how richer folks were blest

  The stars began to form in the night sky just as the pump wagon arrived from Tunbridge Wells, but it was too late. All the timber had been consumed. The flames had died down, leaving a shell of blackened stone with a heap of charred beams. A few hot spots remained, revealed as beams and debris were shifted while rescue crews searched for bodies.