Among the Darkness Stirs

by Nicola Italia

  Levi was coming up the walk, and he saw her. “Audrey? Audrey, are you all right? You look startled.”

  Audrey could only manage a nod, incapable of words. Her heart still raced, and her breath came in short pants.

  “Here,” he said. Taking her by the arm, he helped her sit on a nearby bench.

  “Thank you, Levi. I was startled. But I’m okay,” she said and realized her hands were trembling.

  He stared at her in concern. “Are you sure? Let me walk you back to the cottage.”

  Audrey flinched when he reached for her again, and she realized she was even afraid of Levi. Perhaps he had been the man in the hallway. Perhaps he was the one behind all this. Perhaps—

  “No, I’m fine. I’ll walk back myself. The fresh air will do me good. Thank you.” She tried to smile at him.

  “All right. Take care,” he told her as she was leaving, but he didn’t look too convinced.

  She looked back behind her and watched Levi walk towards the stables. She must return to the board meeting to see Henry.

  “Our meeting ended early,” he explained when she met up with him. “The rest of the board isn’t keen on such details. They each have their reasons for being a part of the workhouse. They reviewed a few pages and then left.”

  “Would you like to take the ledger and come back to the cottage? I could make us a small supper and tea.” Honestly, she didn’t want to be alone.

  “I’d love that.”

  She made a simple supper of cheese omelets and strong brown tea as he admired the domesticity of her movements.

  “I would be a happy man coming home to you every night,” he told her honestly.

  She glanced up at him. “Would you?”

  “I would.”

  She chuckled lowly. “I don’t think most men want a woman who has an education and a job.”

  “It’s all the more reason I like you. You’re different. Set apart.” He pulled the ledger between them. “I suppose we should get to work.”

  “What are we looking for?”

  Henry thought for a moment. “Anything out of the ordinary. Any large amounts. Strange amounts.”

  “You have more experience than I. Can you show me an example?” she asked.

  He looked down the page he was on and tapped an entry. “See here? Cotton. It’s a bit high, but we might have had more inmates at that time so they needed to make more clothes for them.”

  Audrey nodded. “I see.”

  “It might be a bit difficult, as you aren’t used to the ledgers and what is normal. I’ll point out a few more.”

  He did, and when she felt more confident, he took the left side of the ledger and she took the right, and they worked together. She refilled their teacups once, and they returned to poring over the ledger. Audrey was taking in the amounts and the handwriting that noted the entry when she saw something that made her frown.

  “This is unusual, isn’t it?” she said, pointing out one entry.

  He looked over at the entry and frowned, too. “It is.”

  The entry was for baked goods, but there was no need for such a fee. The workhouse had its own bakery, laundry, tailor, shoemaker, vegetable garden, orchards, and stables. They had workshops for carpentry, the infirm, a chapel, and a mortuary. There was no need to purchase these items outside the workhouse.

  “Here it is again.” She pointed out the next page.

  Over several pages, they spotted over twenty baked good entries, along with entries for tomatoes and apples.

  “That makes no sense. We have an orchard and vegetable garden,” Audrey mused.

  Henry met her eyes. “We don’t need any of these things unless it’s off-season for them but still.” He shook his head. “We would have kept them preserved in the icehouse. I’ll speak to Master tomorrow. It may be easily explained.”

  “And if it isn’t?”

  “You sound very skeptical,” he told her.

  “No, you’re right. I’ll wait until you speak to him tomorrow.” She hesitated. “There’s something else. I—I wanted to tell you right away, but I wanted to think about it. I thought maybe I imagined the whole thing.”

  He set down the paper he was holding. “Tell me what?”

  She was uncertain what to say but then spoke. “After we parted, when you went to the meeting, I had the strangest encounter. I don’t know what to call it…. I was walking down the hallway, as I’ve done a thousand times, and the gaslights were all out. It was dark. There was a figure at the end of the hallway. I could tell it was a man. He was tall, broad-shouldered. He just stood there. In the dark. I called out to him, but he didn’t say anything. Then he took something out of his pocket that looked like a billy club and he smashed the gaslight. I ran from him then, and he didn’t chase me.”

  Henry looked at her and then swore. “This is madness!”

  “No! Don’t you see? We’re on the right track, Henry! Whatever we’ve stumbled upon they know. They’re scared we’ll discover the truth!” she said excitedly.

  “They’re scared?” he repeated. “I’m scared! I’m scared something is going to happen to you and I won’t be able to stop it!”

  “Henry, we have to go on. We have to finish this. We’re on the right path.”

  “I agree,” he told her. “We must finish this but not at the cost of losing you.”

  “You won’t lose me. I did as you said. I locked the door at night. I’m careful. I’ll continue to be very careful.”

  “I don’t like this.” He shook his head.

  “We have to finish this,” she told him.

  “I hate like hell every time I have to walk through that door away from you,” he told her bluntly.

  Her back straightened in defiance. “I can’t let them cower me. I can’t let them do that. I must stand up to them.”

  Henry shook his head and closed the ledger. “At least come to the grand house.”

  She shook her head. “No.”

  He sighed. “I’ll speak to Cuthbert tomorrow. I’ll ask him about these entries. He may have a perfectly good reason.”

  “He may. And then he may not.”

  They both stood up, and as she walked him to the door, he caught her in his embrace and whispered huskily in her ear, “Very soon I’ll ask you to come to the house on the River Yare. It won’t be just to take tea or to have supper.”

  She looked up at him. “Am I to stay at the house forever?”

  “Until death parts us.”

  “Isn’t there a question somewhere in this conversation? A question I have to answer,” she teased.

  His stare was intense as he studied her. “There is. Soon I’m going to ask it.”

  She felt her heart flip. “I’ll have to ponder my answer.”

  “Do that. And remember, you’ve said no several times to me. This time the only acceptable answer is yes.”

  “Hmmm,” she said in response.

  He kissed her swiftly but firmly. “Remember. Yes.”

  She watched him walk down the path and locked the door when he was out of sight.

  Chapter Twenty-Five

  Henry spent the entire day at the office. His attention was needed on several cases that normally would have turned over to his associate. He glanced at the mantle clock several times and ten in the morning turned to twelve, then two, and suddenly it was four in the afternoon.

  He was finally able to pull on his overcoat and leave the office for the workhouse. It irritated him that he should have to wait a whole day to question Cuthbert Meacham. He took the large ledger out to review it once more inside the hansom cab, then returned it to the bag upon arrival.

  He entered the workhouse and passed several staff members he knew as he made his way to the Meacham apartments on the upper floor.

  “Mr. Ryland?” Cuthbert said as he opened the door in surprise.

  “How do you do, Meacham? You’ll forgive my coming to see you without an appointment,” Henry said.

  He quickly ushered H
enry inside. “Don’t be ridiculous! You’re always welcome. We’re only here at the behest of the board.”

  Henry took a seat at the small dining room table and watched Cuthbert move into the kitchen. “Matron isn’t here?” he wondered.

  “No. She’s down in the laundry supervising.” He busied himself in making tea for them both without asking, and once finished, he placed the tray of a teapot and two cups on the table.

  “Thank you.” Henry reached out and took a cup.

  “How can I help you, Mr. Ryland?” Cuthbert sat across from Henry.

  “I was reviewing the account ledger last night at our board meeting. It’s customary, as you know. We review the balances and entries for discrepancies,” he explained.

  Cuthbert shrugged. “Yes. I must say mathematics isn’t my strong point, but I do my best.”

  “These entries here and here.” Henry pointed out. “These are the ones I have a question about.”

  Cuthbert reached for his spectacles and placed them on his nose. “These?” He pointed.

  “Yes.”

  “Hmmm. Well, I’d like to help you, but that’s not my handwriting,” he said kindly.

  “It isn’t?” Henry frowned.

  “No. Normally, I handle the ledger on most entries, but as I said, sometimes I need some help.”

  Audrey was finishing up in the classroom. The day had gone by so slowly when she had wished it to fly by. She was interested to see what Henry had learned from the Master on the ledger. After locking the door, she walked along the hallway and out into the courtyard. It was getting dark. She looked behind her out of habit, but no one was there.

  She turned away from the hallway and walked along the path to her cottage. She thought to get a small bite to eat and then see if Henry had learned anything from Master. She touched her hair self-consciously and turned the knob on the door. After turning up the gaslight in the hallway, she placed her small purse down on the table and then took a deep breath of air. When she glanced over, she spotted a figure and nearly cried out from the shock.

  “I’m sorry. Did I startle you?” Matron said as she sat upon her sofa in the front parlor.

  “A—As a matter of fact you did,” Audrey said, her heart racing. “It seems people’s homes here on the grounds are not so private.”

  “Your cottage is provided by the workhouse for the work you do. It isn’t really yours,” she admonished.

  “Isn’t it?” Audrey said, looking about the room and feeling more and more uneasy.

  Matron stood up, and her large girth seemed to fill the room. “You seem to be ill at ease. That wasn’t my intention.”

  Audrey confronted her. “What is your intention, Matron? Because I know very well that you don’t approve of me. You never have. And had it been up to you, I would have been gone long ago.”

  Matron raised her eyebrows. “It’s true. You had no experience, and quite honestly, I thought you were given the job because you were Henry Ryland’s mistress.”

  Audrey’s cheeks flushed warm. “Well, I’m not! Then or now.”

  Matron shrugged her ample shoulders. “I must say, you’ve proven me wrong. That’s rare. I thought you were some silly little girl playing dress-up. But you’ve made the schoolroom a success.”

  “Thank you,” she said warily. “How may I help you?”

  Matron looked over Audrey coolly. “You should be careful. A schoolmistress alone in the cottage at the edge of the workhouse grounds. Something could happen and who would save you?”

  Audrey’s throat constricted. “W—What would happen to me?”

  “Who can say? Nothing, I hope. But you should be alert.” But she didn’t sound too concerned for Audrey’s safety.

  Audrey swallowed. “I don’t expect people to come to my cottage and enter it without my permission.”

  “I’m Matron of the Bowthorpe Workhouse, Ms. Wakefield. Nothing happens here without my permission.”

  “Is that so?” Audrey asked.

  Matron gave her a look. “You doubt it?”

  “What goes on in the mortuary late at night?” Audrey asked before she could stop herself.

  “What usually goes on in a mortuary late at night? Why do you ask? What business does the schoolmistress have in the mortuary?” Matron eyed her.

  “N-Nothing. I have no business there,” Audrey said awkwardly.

  “Why did you ask about the mortuary? Strange question,” she continued.

  “I…. I’ve… I saw someone out and about and was concerned,” she admitted.

  “Out and about? What does that mean?” Matron pressed her.

  “It was late at night. I wondered what he might be doing.”

  “He?” she asked.

  “It was a man I saw.”

  Matron narrowed her eyes. “As I said, the mortuary has business to attend to. He must have been attending to it.”

  “That must be it.”

  “You should stay on task and in the classroom, Ms. Wakefield. If you don’t, you might veer off your course. That would be unfortunate.”

  “Yes, it would,” Audrey agreed.

  Matron made her way to the door, and Audrey hoped she would leave the cottage soon.

  “Take care, Ms. Wakefield. We must keep ourselves on task,” she said.

  Audrey watched her leave the cottage and closed the door behind her. She felt a sense of unease and wondered how long the woman had been sitting in her cottage in the dark and what the true intention was.

  When a knock fell on the door soon after, she almost jumped. She looked at the door and contemplated not letting her in. Matron couldn’t force her.

  The knock came again, followed by Henry’s voice. “Audrey?”

  “Henry.” She pulled open the door and almost sagged in relief at the sight of his face.

  “What? What is it?” he asked.

  “Matron. She was here and the conversation was odd. So odd.” She ran a hand across her forehead as he came towards her.

  “Did she invite herself in?”

  Audrey scoffed. “Invite herself? She was here waiting in the dark when I arrived.”

  Henry watched her face and then took her hand and sat her on the sofa beside him. “Audrey, steer clear of her. I don’t know if she’s behind this, but I talked to Cuthbert. The entries we found that seemed unclear, they were her entries. Her handwriting. He didn’t even know what they were for.”

  Audrey frowned. “Matron? Matron might be behind all this? That’s unlikely. She’s very regimented.”

  “I spoke to Cuthbert today and the entries for bakery goods and vegetables are fake. I’m convinced of it. They are hiding something else. But what? I have no clue. I will speak to Matron tomorrow.” He stood. “Lock the door behind me.”

  Henry walked down the small pathway from the cottage, heading back to the workhouse. The ledger in the bag on his shoulder was heavy. He adjusted it. He had been surprised by his talk with Cuthbert. He knew nothing of the entries, but Elspeth had.

  Maybe there was some perfectly good reason for the entries, but he would ask her all the same. He moved along the long hallway that led back to the main entrance and noticed all the gaslights were turned off. He turned to look behind him and then back to where he was heading, but there was no one.

  He was becoming paranoid. He needed to stop thinking there was a phantom behind every dark corner. He picked up his pace, moving more swiftly down the hallway. Just as he was about to make the doorway to the courtyard, something heavy slammed into his stomach.

  He dropped the bag he was carrying as he doubled over in pain. It slid across the floor. He tried to catch his breath. Who had just attacked him? Footsteps came towards him, closer and closer. Tensing, Henry kept with one hand against the wall, and at the last moment, he swung his fist in the direction of the footsteps.

  Someone grunted and recoiled. Henry grimaced. Take that, bastard!

  He looked around the dark hallway and saw his bag a few feet away. He moved to pick
it up, but the figure came from behind and grabbed him about the neck. He elbowed the figure to knock him off, and the man dropped his hold on Henry.

  Henry turned around, fists ready, but the figure was also ready. His attacker slammed his fist into Henry’s face. Henry fell to his knees, dizzy, and heard the sound of footsteps running down the hallway. He tried to stand but fell against the wall. His bag was nowhere to be seen, and his face was throbbing. His stomach hurt badly as he groped his way down the hallway and back to Audrey’s cottage.

  He slumped against the doorway as he knocked on the door. It was dark inside, and he heard her call out, asking who was there.

  “It’s me, Henry.”

  Audrey opened the door and admitted him inside. “What’s wrong? What happened?” she said, standing before him in her white nightgown. He closed his eyes and swayed, unable to form words. “Henry!” She came towards him and helped support him as they made their way to the sofa.

  “I was leaving and someone attacked me.”

  She left him for a minute and returned to him holding the washcloth. “Here. To help with the swelling.”

  He took the washcloth gratefully. “At least I got one punch in, but the bastard took my bag.”

  “He took your bag?” Her eyes widened. “The ledger!”

  Henry shook his head. “None of this makes any sense. None of it. Marguerite’s names in a diary, which we know are dead inmates. False cause of death and all cremated with no bodies to dig up, and now strange entries in the accounts ledgers.”

  “The entries in the ledger. The money was going out. Someone was paying for something and hiding it. What are they hiding?” Audrey wondered aloud.

  “What is Matron hiding?” he asked specifically.

  “Could they be legitimate? She was purchasing these items for inmates?”

  He placed the cool washcloth on his face and winced at the sting. “That is what she will say. But we both know the truth. Those entries will unlock everything. Once we know the real reason for the entries, all will be known.”