Among the Darkness Stirs

by Nicola Italia

  “Come now. Enough of this. Your daughter is waiting,” he said very sternly.

  Audrey was dazed as her mother came into view. Her eyes looked wild, and her hair was in disarray.

  “You’re not my daughter! You creep up on me at the most important moment. I almost had him!” she yelled at Audrey, and then rounded on Henry. “You brute!”

  Henry admonished her sternly to be quiet, and with that, Augusta fell silent.

  Audrey said nothing as they walked back to the cottage. The entire time, her mother murmured about the ghost she had almost caught had it not been for the two of them. After she had been put to bed, Audrey went downstairs and poured herself a brandy.

  She gulped it down in one swallow, shuddering as she did. Henry didn’t say anything until she turned to him, tears in her eyes. In a quick movement, he was holding her in his arms.

  “I’m so frightened,” she said in his ear, trembling uncontrollably.

  He brushed her hair from her temple. “I’m sorry. Your mother is not well.”

  “What do I do?” she asked, pulling away to stare at him. “What can I do?”

  Henry sighed. “I know a doctor. He’s very good. He can examine her.”

  Audrey bit her lip. “A doctor?”

  “Yes. He teaches at the Bethel Hospital here in Norwich.”

  “A hospital?” Audrey felt relieved. She had not wanted to believe in the possibility that her mother might be losing her mind, but she was not qualified to assess her. If Henry knew someone who could properly diagnose her mother, that would be a huge relief for them all.

  “Yes.”

  “What sort of hospital?” she asked.

  “It’s an asylum. For lunatics.”

  She felt her heart plunge. “An asylum.”

  “I’m not saying anything about your mother. I don’t know what affliction she may have. Or may not have. I only know that whereas you seem to bloom and thrive under these difficult circumstances, it has affected your mother most adversely.” Henry touched her hair.

  They walked outside to the small garden, and she looked up into the night sky.

  “That must be it. The circumstances. She has been through too much and she’s struggling.” Audrey tried to convince herself, but she didn’t know what she thought.

  “Do you want me to arrange the visit?” he asked her. “He will be most circumspect. He won’t gossip.”

  “You’re very kind.” She paused and studied his handsome face. “But then you’ve always been.”

  “I want to help you. It’s all I’ve ever wanted since the moment I saw you in Green Park.”

  Audrey thought on his words. “What if she’s not well? What then? What do I do?”

  He took her hands in his. “Audrey, you aren’t alone. You are not. You have my mother, and you have me. If you’ll allow me, I only want to support you. To be your friend.”

  She looked down at their entwined hands. “You’ve been that. Your family has been my only friend, my only support here in Norwich. I don’t need to tell you I’m—”

  “Don’t say grateful,” he warned her, his lips twitching.

  “I’m thankful I met you,” she finished.

  “Yes. I recall it well. You purposefully stumbled into my path so you could meet me.”

  Audrey bit back a smile. “Purposefully stumbled?” She shook her head. “Who does that?”

  He raised an eyebrow. “You apparently.”

  She chuckled. “No. I think more accurately it was I was walking in the park, minding my own business, when you rudely came into my path and knocked into me.”

  “Knocked into you?” he asked.

  “If I can purposefully stumble, you can rudely knock into me,” she explained.

  Henry watched her in the shadow of the night. “I remember your face that day in the park. You were so lovely. Like something carved out of marble by Michelangelo. Perfect.” He reached out to touch her cheek with the back of his hand. It was like silk.

  “Henry,” she said suddenly, taking a step back from him.

  “I like that.”

  “What?” She frowned.

  “My name on your lips…. Audrey?”

  “Yes?”

  “It will be all right. There are good times. There are bad times. And neither lasts forever.”

  Wise words indeed. “Good night.”

  “Sleep well.”

  The next afternoon, Audrey received a note from Henry. The doctor at Bethel would be able to see her mother the following day. She was so relieved at the thought of a trained person diagnosing her mother. She had willed herself not to worry until she knew something for certain.

  She was grateful for his support and for Theodocia welcoming her into their world. She had found the workhouse very alien in the beginning, and it had been difficult. But with their support, she had felt more at home and at ease.

  If she were honest, and she tried to be, she felt a deep longing when she was with Henry. He had a quiet way about him she found appealing, and he spoke about items he knew and topics he was well-versed in. He wasn’t a braggart or know-it-all as some men were, and she found herself growing fond of him.

  However, there was no chance of anything happening between them. Though he seemed to enjoy her company and found her attractive, there was a class difference. As Della pointed out, he was a solicitor, and she was a schoolmistress. An ocean divided them. She must not accept anything beyond friendship.

  After class was complete, she took Frances home and then stopped to see her friend Marguerite. The old woman had not had an easy time of it since her companion had died, and Audrey tried to check on her several times a week.

  She knocked on the door and entered the room, but no one was about. She saw a shawl thrown over the chair, a book on its side on her bed, and a tin of biscuits next to the book.

  She suddenly spotted a notebook on the floor next to the bed and picked it up. She didn’t know why, but she opened the book and saw that it was a diary of sorts. She glanced behind her, but no one was there. She admonished herself. She should not be reading anyone else’s private thoughts. She placed it aside and looked over at the tin.

  Peek, Frean & Co’s Superior Biscuits decorated in red and gold beckoned to her, and when she opened the tin, she found nothing inside. She closed it and sat down upon the bed. She glanced at the diary once and then shook her head. She should return home to the cottage.

  She rose, and taking a step, she picked up the diary and sat back down. What was she doing? The name Marguerite was scrawled along the first page and then dates began to appear. The first date was over a year and a half ago, and she frowned as she read the words.

  2. MB and LC

  The next page was much the same, but this time, it said three and had three sets of letters. There were several pages of this with dates and initials. Audrey shrugged. Marguerite must owe people money or perhaps they owed her. The number meant shillings most likely. She turned the page and saw the same thing. Numbers and initials.

  But in the middle of the diary, it changed. There were no more numbers and initials, but instead, the old woman was writing. But the writing made less sense than the previous pages.

  I have been watching when no one else is. I see what no one else sees. I must keep myself safe unless they guess. Things are not what they seem. I keep my door locked at night.

  A shiver ran up her spine. What did the old woman see? What things were not as they seemed? She turned the page to see more writing.

  I am now more certain than ever. I had my doubts as it could be possible but now I know. I will continue to watch.

  Audrey frowned at the words. What was she certain of? She flipped through page after page of the writing and noticed the handwriting was becoming more erratic and spidery. She looked once more over her shoulder and then back to the notebook. She found a final entry in the diary.

  Alistair is dead. He was coughing badly towards the end. Consumption? That’s what they want everyo
ne to believe.

  Audrey looked up from the words. That’s what they want everyone to believe. Who was “they”? And what was Marguerite insinuating, that consumption had not killed him? Even she remembered the heavy coughing that had so reminded her of her father.

  She shook her head. There must be an explanation for these words. Marguerite had lived a long time in the workhouse. She was self-segregated from the others and did not socialize often. She must be having strange thoughts, and with no one to confide in, she wrote her feelings down.

  But Alistair Hillby had certainly died of consumption. There could be no mistake. And if that old man had coughed up blood and had any of the symptoms her father had, that proved it. She set the diary aside and sighed. Poor Marguerite. The lady must be quite lonely. She would go into town on her next day off and purchase her something special.

  Audrey sat across from the doctor who had examined her mother. He was not young but not terribly old as she might have expected. He had spent some time with her mother that afternoon and had called her into his office in town after class was finished.

  “Ms. Wakefield,” he acknowledged.

  “Dr. Engle,” she said in return, taking the seat across from his desk. “Thank you so much for seeing my mother. I appreciate your time.”

  He waved her away. “Henry Ryland is well-regarded. He asked me for a favor and I was happy to oblige.” He folded his hands on his desk and got down to business. “I spent some time with your mother. As discussed, it was under the pretense of my charity work and how she might help assist. You and I agreed not to upset her about the true nature of my visit.”

  Audrey licked her lips, suddenly nervous. “Yes.”

  “At first, your mother talked of your father, her life in Kingsdown, and the conversation went well.” Dr. Engle leaned back and pulled a pipe from his coat pocket. He lit the pipe and took a small puff. “She has a concern which weighs on her mind and seems to fill up most of her day. We talked at length on the subject, and the more we talked, the more animated she became.”

  Audrey nodded, knowing the concern was their move and the many changes.

  “She… is mostly concern about what she calls the shadow man,” he told her softly.

  Audrey frowned, not expecting that answer. “The shadow man?”

  “Apparently she has seen him several times outside her window and is concerned that he is up to nothing good.”

  “I see.”

  “She says she must keep an eye on him. She regards it as her duty to keep you and your sister safe.” The doctor studied her as he took a puff of his pipe. “Do you know if she has made any other attempts to see the man?”

  Audrey felt tension in the front of her head. “I found her in the orchards next to the cottages. She was lying in wait for him.”

  “I don’t think I need to tell you, Ms. Wakefield, that your mother is seeing things not there. She has manifested this shadow man as a way to focus her concerns.”

  Audrey’s heart squeezed. “Her concerns?”

  “She lives in a foreign world now, and she can control nothing. This man, this figure of darkness she can hunt down. She can save her family. It’s the mind’s way of keeping her somewhat sane. Of controlling an uncontrollable world.” The doctor kept his tone soft and soothing, but it didn’t help the worry inside Audrey.

  “Somewhat sane?” she echoed the words.

  He nodded. “She’s gone through much. Losing her husband and way of life has been difficult for her.”

  Audrey recalled the words Henry had said to her in much the same manner. I only know that whereas you seem to bloom and thrive under these difficult circumstances, it has affected your mother most adversely.

  A painful lump formed in Audrey’s throat. “What can be done for her, doctor? How can we help her?”

  He cleared his throat. “I would like to admit her into the asylum. For a short time. Perhaps a month. Maybe less. I would like to take her on as my patient to study her.”

  “No,” Audrey said sharply. She didn’t need to think about it.

  A hint of impatience entered his voice. “Ms. Wakefield, I understand your hesitance, but let me be clear. She might be fine now. She might hunt the shadow man now. But there may come a time when she acts out violently and turns on you and your sister.”

  “No!” Audrey whispered.

  “I’m afraid so.” He gave her a sympathetic look. “I’ve studied patients your mother’s age, and as the patient ages, the so-called visions, fancies, don’t get better. They get worse.”

  Audrey exhaled sharply. “Let me think on it.”

  “Please do.”

  Audrey stood outside the doctor’s office and realized she was near Henry’s firm. She had visited the confectionary shop and purchased some peppermint candies for Marguerite to cheer her up. She decided she would visit Henry to see what his thoughts were on the doctor’s visit.

  Chapter Seventeen

  “I saw Dr. Engle today,” she told Henry as they sat across from each other at the tea shop. “He—it wasn’t good.”

  Henry looked up in concern. “What did he say?”

  “That she’s seeing things. That her mind is manifesting this shadow man so she can defend her family and control an uncontrollable world.” Audrey shook her head.

  Henry eyed her. “You don’t believe it?”

  Audrey took a deep breath. “I don’t know what to believe. The doctor wants her to enter the asylum for a month, maybe less, to watch her. Study her.”

  “You don’t want that?”

  “I’m wary of asylums. I know he’ll look after her as you recommended him. But…” She trailed off, unable to continue.

  “But?” Henry prompted when she didn’t finish her thought.

  She met his gaze. “What if she is seeing someone out there, Henry? What if there is someone walking around at night? What if all this is easily explainable? She calls it a shadow man because he’s a man in the shadows. It sounds odd in that way, but maybe it’s not. Maybe he’s at work on the grounds.”

  Part of Audrey wanted to believe that more than anything. She so worried about her mother.

  He shook his head. “I don’t know anyone that works that late at night unless someone has died.”

  Suddenly, that night in the orchard flashed into her mind, seeing her mother crouched on the ground like an animal. “I don’t understand how a woman can be so normal my whole life and then change so drastically in such a short time. It seems—”

  “Why not let Dr. Engle look after her for two weeks and then see how things are? If it is doing no good, you bring her home. No harm done.” The way Henry said it made it sound very reasonable.

  Audrey hesitated and relented after a moment. “Yes.”

  “Do you need help with Frances? During the week with your work? I’m sure my mother would help. She adores children,” he offered.

  “No. She accompanies me in class and at meals. She’s actually quite comforting to me. She’s a sweet girl.” Audrey couldn’t imagine her mother and sister both being away again.

  “I’m glad she brings you comfort,” he said.

  “She does. After everything she’s been through with my father’s death and now this,” Audrey shook her head. “I want to make sure she’s all right.”

  “That’s understandable,” he agreed.

  She looked at the time and then looked back at Henry. “I should get back. I want to pay a visit to Marguerite. She’s been feeling low since her friend died.”

  “Yes. I heard. Alistair Hillby. Most unfortunate.”

  “You knew him?”

  “We played cards and chess every once in a while. He was a good sort of chap,” Henry told her.

  Audrey almost began to tell him of the diary she had found in the room and the strange words written in it, but she stopped herself. Henry would start to think the women in the Wakefield family were all losing their minds.

  “I thought I might tell my mother they are doing a st
udy on older woman and I volunteered her to participate,” she told him. “What do you think of that?”

  “That’s plausible.”

  “I’m lying to her.” And it made Audrey feel guilty.

  As if he sensed her feelings, he told her gently, “You’re protecting her, Audrey.”

  Tears stung her eyes. “Am I?”

  “You are. You are remarkable.”

  “How is that?”

  “You are grace under pressure. Strength when needed. I am impressed by you.”

  She smirked. “You needn’t butter me up. I said no to the concert.”

  He shrugged. “Now you must attend.”

  “I must? Why must I?”

  “With your mother gone, it could be a nice outing for you and Frances. Bring her along, and I’ll bring my mother. What could be simpler?” He said it as if it were obvious.

  Audrey thought about it for a moment. “I will.”

  “Excellent.” He grinned.

  When they went outside into the street, the sound of horse hooves echoed on the cobblestones.

  Henry turned to her. “Don’t overthink this. You’re making the right decision.”

  “Thank you, Henry.”

  He inclined his head. “It’s my pleasure, Audrey.”

  She took a deep breath, bracing herself. “I’ll return home and tell my mother what has been decided.”

  Audrey should have been surprised, but she was not. When she explained where her mother would be going and told her of the medical trials she would participate in, Augusta snorted. “I think not.”

  “Why not, Mother?”

  “If you must know, I didn’t like Dr. Engle. He seemed like an upstart. I don’t like men that use education as an excuse to get ahead and talk down to others,” Augusta said.

  “Would you prefer he stayed in the fields like his ancestors before him? Living in the muck and dying at the age of forty?” Audrey retorted.

  Augusta narrowed her eyes at her daughter. “When your father chose to send you to college, I thought it a waste. Why did I think that? Because a woman has no need of such frivolities besides knowing the good book and Mrs. Beeton’s Book of Household Management. Your goal in life is to secure a good husband who will provide you a good home and a good name.”