Dangerous Passions

by Leigh Anderson

  “Come now,” a nurse said, leaning into Isoline’s room. “Eat up already so I can clear this away.”

  Isoline eyed her food and dreaded putting it into her mouth. It would be nearly impossible for her to starve here, she was fed so much and so often. Dr. Shore had told her that a stout body was key to a stout mind, whatever that meant. But the food was so coarse and flavorless it was like eating ash from an old fireplace.

  She tore off a piece of the thick, dry bread and tried to slather some of the thick gruel on it, but she could barely chew it enough to make it go down her throat. She downed nearly a full glass of water just to get one mouthful of food to go down, but at least it was enough to satisfy the nurse.

  “Good job,” the nurse said as she took the tray away. Her foot kicked the crumpled letter from Isoline’s father as she left the room. She looked down at it. “Oh, dear me. Bad news I take it?”

  “My father agrees with my aunt that I need the rest,” Isoline said coldly.

  “Well, you will get plenty of that here,” the nurse said as she left the room.

  Isoline knew she meant well. Not all of the staff were as cruel and off-putting as Dr. Shore, but even though they worked here and saw the conditions, they seemed truly ignorant of what it was like to be a patient. Isoline had barely slept a wink since she arrived. The rooms were cold and spartan. The mattress was thin, as was her only blanket. She slept in her clothes to keep from freezing. The walls were thin, so the crying of those falsely imprisoned and the ravings of the truly insane crept into her mind constantly. Isoline feared that if she had not been mad when she arrived, she very soon would be.

  “Was it good news?” a woman named Catherine asked, peeking her head into Isoline’s room. Isoline wasn’t completely sure, but she believed that Catherine was not insane, only a bit sad. She was terribly plain and had never had a serious suitor. She had no hobbies that Isoline could discern and was not particularly well educated. When her father died, instead of keeping her around as a spinster sister, her brothers had her committed. She had been diagnosed as “hysterical,” though Isoline had seen no evidence of this other than a few bouts of crying that Catherine seemed to have little control over and Isoline hardly blamed her for. She had been in this place for three years.

  Isoline eyed the crumpled paper on the floor.

  “Oh,” Catherine said when she saw it. “I’m sorry.”

  Isoline waved her off. “It’s no matter. I knew he wouldn’t help me. It was foolish to hope he might.”

  Catherine picked up the paper and tossed it into a bin. “Hope is never foolish,” she said. “Without hope, there is no reason to keep going.”

  “And what do you hope for?” Isoline asked. “What keeps you from going completely mad in this place?”

  “I’ve started writing,” Catherine said a little sheepishly. “I was writing stories, but Dr. Shore would take them from me. He said they were evidence of my madness. I think he was sending them to my brothers as proof I needed to stay here. So I switched to short poems, and I’ve been hiding them in my mattress.”

  Isoline nodded sympathetically. She had a feeling that many of the “talking treatments” the doctor employed were not meant to help the inmates, but to only reinforce their beliefs that the committed should stay committed. Dr. Shore had repeatedly asked her about her dreams, but she had refused to tell him anything, knowing that anything she said would be reported back to her family.

  Isoline leaned over and took Catherine’s hand. “If I ever get out of here, I’ll take your poems with me and have them published. People need to know the terrible treatment that goes on in this supposed place of healing.”

  “So you still have hope that you’ll get out of here?” Catherine asked, surprised. “You aren’t the first girl who was sent here to get her out of the way of an inheritance.”

  “Is that really why you think I’m here?” Isoline asked.

  “Rich old dame like that,” Catherine said, referring to Bellamira. “Probably has more people after that inheritance than you think.”

  A light seemed to go off in Isoline’s head. “Tristan was at the house the night before I was taken away!” she exclaimed. “I had nearly forgotten about it. I thought he had shown up to apologize for…for attacking me. But what if he told my aunt she could easily be rid of me by having me declared insane?”

  “Makes perfect sense to me,” Catherine said. “My father left me money in his will. He knew I’d never marry, so he wanted to make sure I was taken care of and not a burden to my brothers. Well, guess where my money went as soon as I was locked up here.”

  “Oh, Catherine,” Isoline said, shaking her head. “I’m so sorry.”

  “I’d have given them the whole lot of it willingly if it would have kept me out of this place.” At that, Catherine devolved into a crying fit that she seemed unable to stop. Isoline held her friend for a long time, rocking her. She made a promise to herself, but she did not utter it out loud for fear of giving Catherine false hope. She vowed that if she ever did get out of this place, that she would devote her life to helping women who had been institutionalized.

  Finally, after exhausting herself, Catherine calmed enough for Isoline to lead her back to her room. One of the nurses saw them and followed them into the room.

  “What happened?” the nurse asked as she checked Catherine’s pulse.

  “She was just missing home,” Isoline said. “As we all often do.”

  “Aye,” the nurse said. “But no sense working yourselves up over it. It only gets your humors out of sorts.”

  “Have you ever been separated from your family or home against your will with no hope of ever returning?” Isoline asked in annoyance.

  “Of course not,” the nurse said.

  “Then what do you know of it?” Isoline said more than asked.

  “Get back to your room and calm down,” the nurse ordered as she pulled a syringe out of her pocket and removed the cap.

  “What is that?” Isoline asked in alarm. “What are you doing?”

  The nurse inserted the needle into Catherine’s arm, and within a moment, Catherine’s eyes fluttered shut and she was unconscious.

  “Catherine?” Isoline asked, going to her friend’s side and shaking her. “What’s wrong? What did you do?”

  “Just a little something to help her sleep,” the nurse said. “Nothing to concern yourself over.”

  “Something to help her sleep?” Isoline repeated.

  The nurse nodded. “She’s fine. She’ll wake up in a few hours, well rested and her mind much calmer than it is now.”

  At that, Isoline rounded on the nurse, an idea coming to her. “How dare you!” she screamed as she grabbed the nurse’s arms. “You’re hurting her! You monster!”

  The nurse stumbled back into the hallway. “Help! She’s out of control!” she screamed.

  “I’m not out of control!” Isoline yelled. “This whole place is out of control!” Then she started crying. “How could they? What is happening to me?”

  She saw two men in white uniforms running toward her, and one had a syringe in his hand. She did her best to hide a smile as she continued screaming and crying.

  She had been unable to sleep since she had arrived. Even though the man in her dreams had not come to her since their night of passion together, she had to believe that he would come to her in her time of need.

  All will be well, he had promised her. She had never known him to go back on his word.

  Isoline gasped in pain as the man inserted the needle into her arm, but she felt a warm calmness spread through her with each thump of her heart. She felt dizzy and her legs collapsed beneath her. She felt one of the men pick her up, but then the world went black.

  A moment later, she was in her room back at Thornrush Manor. She sat up and grabbed her robe. As she stood, she felt the familiar sensation of wet grass under her feet. She nearly wept for joy. It had worked! And he was here with her. She could sense him.

&
nbsp; “Hello?” she called out as she turned around, looking for him. “I know you are here. I can feel you.”

  Isoline…

  She sighed in relief. “Yes! Yes! I’m here! I need you. Please, show yourself.”

  She felt his breath on the back of her neck. She turned to face him.

  “Auberon!” she exclaimed. She had not expected to see anyone when she looked at him. He had never made himself known to her before, no matter how she had struggled to see his face. But she never would have believed that the man in her dreams was Auberon if she had not seen him with her own eyes just now.

  “Yes, Isoline,” he said. “It is me.”

  “All…all this time?” Isoline asked. “All these years? It has always been you?”

  “Yes,” he admitted, reaching out and touching her cheek. “The moment I saw your portrait, the one you sent to your aunt all those years ago, I loved you and reached out to you.”

  “I…I don’t understand,” Isoline said. “Why did you never show me your face before? Why did you not tell me when we met in person?”

  “I was afraid you would not believe me,” he said. “I couldn’t fully manifest in your dreams when you were living at home because you were so far away. Then when I met you in person, it was like my own dream coming true and I was afraid of waking up.”

  Isoline searched her heart and knew that what he spoke was truth. It was him. She had the same feelings toward the man in her dreams that she did with Auberon. That was why the man in her dreams did not object to her love of Auberon the way he did of her relationship with Cyril.

  “But…how?” Isoline asked. “How is this possible? What…magic is this?”

  “I am not what you think,” he said. “I am not like other men.”

  Isoline scoffed a laugh. “That is a true understatement.”

  “But please never doubt my love for you, Isoline,” he said, grabbing her arms and pulling her toward him. He ran his fingers through her hair and looked deep into her eyes.

  “Then why did you abandon me?” she asked.

  He loosened his grip and shook his head. “I am so ashamed of my actions,” he said. “I will never forget the look on your face when they took you away. It haunts me.”

  “Then help me now,” she said, stomping her foot. “Get me out of this place!”

  “Bellamira,” he mumbled, shaking his head and turning his face away. “She…she is still angry…”

  “Forget Aunt Bellamira!” Isoline snapped. “If you love me, you will help me!”

  “It is complicated, Isoline,” he said, letting her go.

  “Do…do you love her?” Isoline asked, her brow knitted in confusion.

  “I did,” he admitted. “At one time.”

  “Then why are you letting her control you?” Isoline asked. “What is happening? Who are you? What are you?”

  Auberon pulled her to him again. “I will do whatever it takes to fix this,” he said. “I don’t know how, but I will not abandon you forever.”

  At that, she felt him slipping away from her. “Auberon?” she called, but the sun was rising. “Auberon! Don’t leave me!” In the morning light, he faded from view.

  Isoline opened her eyes and she was back in her room at the institution.

  Chapter Nineteen

  “I found a newspaper clipping about you, Isoline,” Dr. Shore said, offering her a piece of paper.

  “If it is about me having luncheon in a public house, I’ve seen it,” Isoline said, not taking the offered news bit.

  “Oh no,” he said. “This is about your accident, when you first went to Thornrush.”

  She didn’t realize the accident had been reported in the paper, but she supposed that the near-death of a duchess’s niece and presumptive heir would be something newsworthy. She reluctantly accepted the paper and read it.

  The niece of the Dowager Duchess of Payne barely survived a terrible accident the night before last when her carriage fell over in a rainstorm. The girl, Miss Isoline Beresford, had apparently pulled herself safely from the burning wreckage and to a nearby tree where she was miraculously found by her own cousin, Mr. Tristan Greer.

  The carriage driver did not fare so well, dying instantly in the accident. His remains have already been returned to his family.

  “But I didn’t pull myself from the wreckage,” Isoline said. “Tristan did.”

  “Not according to his account,” Dr. Shore said taking the clipping back. “He said that he found you in the rain, nearly frozen to death. He thinks that many of your problems might be related to your shock from the accident that you never recovered from.”

  Isoline sighed and shook her head. She did have some initial fears after the accident. She remembered hesitating before climbing into the carriage when she wanted to attend church for the first time. But she had overcome her fear since then.

  What troubled her more was Tristan’s account of the event. Why would he deny rescuing her from the fire? Wouldn’t that have been an even more dramatic story? But if Tristan hadn’t saved her from the carriage, then who did?

  “Tell me about your dreams, Isoline,” Dr. Shore asked, interrupting her thoughts as he sat across from her, a notepad on his lap, pen at the ready.

  Isoline crossed her arms and refused to look at him or answer his questions. She had been inconsolable since she woke up from her dream with Auberon. He said he would not abandon her forever, but he had abandoned her for now, and that was bad enough. She was alone and scared. She had been unable to sleep without the strange injection, so she was exhausted. Even though they offered her plenty of the thick, tasteless gruel, she was starving for something satisfying. Meat, eggs, a bit of wine.

  “You have read Descartes, yes?” Dr. Shore asked. Isoline tried to remain uninterested, but in her weakened state, she knew her eyes flickered. “I believe he said something along the lines of, ‘I am a slave who dreams he is free—’”

  “A prisoner,” Isoline interrupted him to correct. She knew she should remain silent, but she could not all this man to misquote her darling Descartes. “The original French was prisonnier.”

  “And do you feel like you are a prisoner, Isoline?” the doctor asked as he leaned forward anxiously.

  Isoline chuckled. “How could I be anything else within these walls?”

  “You are a guest,” the doctor said. “Simply here for a short rest to ease your troubled mind.”

  “Why do you sit there and lie to me?” Isoline asked, her hands clenching in anger. “Even if you think I’m insane, I’m not a fool. I cannot simply walk out of here of my own accord. What is that if not a prisoner?”

  “Everyone here is a patient, not a prisoner,” Dr. Shore rationalized. “Once you get better, you will, of course, be allowed to leave.”

  Isoline pondered over this for a moment. “And what would that look like to you?” she asked. “If I were better, how would I act differently than I do now?”

  Dr. Shore paused for a moment, and Isoline thought she saw a bit of sweat bead upon his brow.

  “Why don’t you tell me,” he finally said, clearing his throat. “What do you think a mentally healthy Isoline would look like.”

  Isoline rolled her eyes and looked away. It was as she suspected. He was never going to release her without the consent of her father or her aunt. The doctor tried a few more times to engage her in self-incriminating conversation, but Isoline refused to take part. Finally, the doctor sighed and had one of the men in white uniforms take her back to the main sitting room where some of the better behaved women were allowed to associate. Catherine and two other women were sitting around a table playing cards and waved Isoline over.

  “How did it go?” Catherine asked as she dealt everyone a new hand.

  “Same as always,” Isoline said. “But I think I confirmed what I already knew—that I’m never getting out of here.”

  “I’m sorry to hear that,” Sabine, a mulatto girl who had been committed by her father’s wife to keep everyo
ne from finding out he had a mixed-race child. “At least it didn’t come as any great shock to you, unlike poor Elisa here.”

  Elisa nodded, but didn’t say anything. Isoline suspected that Elisa did have some sort of mental condition. She never spoke to anyone about anything and had been in the institution for years. Though whether she had gone mad before or after entering the asylum was some matter for debate.

  “If only I could escape,” Isoline lamented as she looked at her cards, but she was surprised when the other women laughed at her. “What?” she asked. “Don’t you dream of escaping this place.”

  “And go where?” Catherine asked.

  “There’s nowhere safe for us on the outside,” Sabine said. “We’d end up selling ourselves on the street just for a bit of crusty bread. At least we don’t have to sell our bodies for food here, just endure a little touching or kissing once in a while.”

  Isoline felt a chill up the back of her spine and turned her head to see one of the men in white suits watching them. She knew that some of the male doctors and enforcers took advantage of the women here, but thankfully she had not been victimized yet. She knew, though, that is was only a matter of time.

  “You shouldn’t have to put up with that,” Isoline whispered harshly. “None of us should.”

  “We don’t have a choice,” Catherine said. “We live here, or we die here. That’s it.”

  Isoline felt sick to her stomach at Catherine’s words because she knew they were true.

  Her hope was finally gone.

  “Miss Beresford.” One of the men in white called her name while she was sitting, looking out a window in the common room. She looked at him, but didn’t respond. “Come with me, please.”

  She didn’t remember having an appointment with Dr. Shore today, but it was possible. All the days seemed to blur together anymore.