House of Bliss

by T T Thomas

  Felicity raised a hand. “Remember walking with a book on our head to improve posture? Or the rigmarole at the table to learn manners?”

  They laughed at the memory of their aunt, and Felicity could see the laughter did her sister good. Behind her own mask of gaiety, though, Felicity cringed internally at the visions of Glyver harming Bel.

  “The more I learn about Mr. Glyver, the more I regret taking on this investigative job. It feels deceptive—it is deceptive. Sabrina is quite nice to me, her houseman and his wife adore the baby and I’ve a safe place to work. I’m asking myself why I’m even doing this work for Glyver?”

  Bel pointed to a small stack of paper money on the table. “Because of that,” she said. “We need the money. Mind you don’t give him any information that could cause her harm.”

  Felicity nodded but worried she may have done precisely that already. “From what I’ve learned about her this past month or so, I cannot imagine why he is interested in her. She seems entirely uninterested in men.”

  Bel looked up. “Whatever has given you that notion?”

  “Well, for starters, she dresses in her father’s old suits. She’s had them all tailored of course, but you have to admit, that’s most unusual.”

  Bel laughed remembering Sabrina’s wardrobe quirks. “Yes, I got that impression too, when I knew her. A bohemian of sorts. The only connection anyone could make to me is that her father handled my divorce, but that was well before I knew her.”

  “But you met her first when you sought her father’s legal advice. Didn’t you mention that?”

  Bel looked up, her eyes wide. She shifted in her chair and then lowered her eyes to cover her lie. “Well, yes, yes, but only briefly. I got to know her socially, later.” She wasn’t ready to tell Felicity that her initial introduction to Sabrina was at Shelter House.

  Felicity began to straighten up the table after their small feast. She noticed her sister’s change in demeanor and fleetingly wondered at its cause. “Doesn’t seem enough though, does it? My guess is that’s far too thin a connection to warrant Glyver spying on Sabrina. Maybe when I find her father’s old files on your divorce, I’ll know more.”

  She saw Bel looked across the room at seemingly nothing, but the pain in her sister’s eyes told her otherwise.

  “Well, let’s not think of that right now, Bel. I’ll ferret out what he’s about. I promise.”

  Chapter 16

  Sabrina sat slouched on the chesterfield in the library where she had fallen asleep earlier that morning. Her head ached when she woke up, but she wanted to see if coffee might improve it before taking laudanum.

  Headache, two days. Or three? She wasn’t sure. It must’ve cost her a pretty penny to spend three nights in the Chinaman’s lair.

  The visit with Lena had not gone well. On the other hand, maybe it had. She wanted Sabrina to tell her why they hadn’t met in such a long time.

  Sabrina rubbed her eyes and reprised that last night’s conversation.

  “It’s not like you at all. I sense something’s amiss,” Lena had said.

  “There’s nothing. I’ve been tired.”

  “Darling? I know you.”

  “Maybe you don’t. Don’t really know me,” Sabrina said. She looked everywhere in the room except at Lena. “Shall we have a bite to eat? I’d like to retire early.”

  As Lena looked at her, only her clouded eyes revealed doubt. “Of course. Let me get something together. A glass of wine?”

  “Not sure I should with the headaches and all. But, maybe one glass.”

  Lena went to the kitchen in their flat and pulled together a simple repast of cold meats, thinly sliced buttered soda bread and crisp apples, which she cut into slices.

  As they finished eating, Lena spoke. “I’m wondering…”

  “What?” Sabrina was eating a slice of apple.

  “What would you think if we took a little break? With one another, I mean.”

  Sabrina stopped eating. “Why?”

  “I believe you know why. You’re not here much lately, and when you are, you seem to be somewhere else. I think you’re not happy.”

  “To some degree, you’re right,” Sabrina conceded. “This business with women getting killed while wearing my corsets is heavy on my mind. And…everything else.” She hadn’t planned on this conversation, but as long as it was happening, she thought she should take the opening. “It’s not you, though,” Sabrina added.

  Lena laughed lightly, a note of regret in her tone. “Yes,” she said, “that’s my point. It should be about me, but something—or someone—has captured your attention. You should be free to give it if you wish.”

  Sabrina gave her a bare nod. There it was, her opportunity. She looked at Lena and saw the hurt in her eyes, along with something that blazed brighter than hurt. Pride? Anger? All of it?

  “Lena, I’m sorry. I do need more time. I, I—I don’t know what I need.”

  “There’s only one subject you haven’t discussed in depth with me, Sabrina. I’ve heard about the business, the workers, the investigator coming around, Jeremy’s visits, the usual.”

  The air between them quivered. Lena’s face looked flushed. Sabrina was overly warm. “Has it to do with your houseguest?” Lena’s steady stare bore a hole through Sabrina.

  “I don’t know.”

  Sabrina’s words drenched the room with equivocation, and she saw they both knew it.

  “Then it does,” Lena said, standing. “That isn’t something one ‘doesn’t know,’ Sabrina. As you didn’t say, ‘No,’ then it is about her. Felicity West. A stranger with a baby. And now she works in your studio. I—didn’t know you were so unfulfilled with me. Perhaps I should have known.”

  Sabrina did not disabuse her of that conclusion. There was nothing Lena could have done, but Sabrina didn’t have the energy to say that. She felt wrong, confused, remorseful and guilty, but she poured another glass of alcohol.

  Lena cleared the table while Sabrina finished her wine. “I can’t send you out at this hour,” Lena said evenly “but I would prefer you sleep in the extra bedroom.”

  As Sabrina rummaged through the detritus of the past week in her life, the light in the room changed, and she forced her eyes open. Cath was standing over her, a shadow of dark concern on her face. Sabrina saw the brown bottle of laudanum on the table next to her, on its side, empty.

  “Oh, hell, Cath. When did I return? How long was I gone?”

  “Early this morning, ma’am. Three full days. Should I call Dr. Jeremy? Think it would be wise,” she added.

  “I suppose so,” Sabrina said. “I feel overdosed.”

  “Yes, well I shouldn’t wonder,” Cath said as she picked up the empty bottle.

  “It was half empty to begin with,” Sabrina began, “and then…”

  “And then it was empty,” Cath finished. “I’ve brought coffee. Can you drink some?”

  Sabrina sat up. “Maybe. Sit with me, Cath.”

  Cath sat across from her in a winged back chair, but she didn’t scoot fully back. She clasped her hands together and placed them on her lap. Sabrina knew what this meant. She took a couple sips of the strong coffee.

  “Was there anything else, Cath? How is everyone?”

  Cath frowned. “I believe everyone is well, it’s only that…” She drifted into silence.

  Sabrina tried to sit up straighter. It was an effort. “What, Cath?”

  “Don’t know as it’s important, and Walters was after saying I should leave it alone, but that’s not like me at all, is it?”

  Sabrina smiled. “No. Go ahead. I can’t evaluate if you don’t tell me.”

  “I found your houseguest going through your father’s old files day before yesterday.”

  “Felicity? Whatever for?”

  Cath leaned forward. “That’s my point, ma’am, I don’t understand. She looked guilty—it’s a face you get to know in life. Mind, I like her well enough, and the babe is the sweetest thing, but, well, she
looked to be snooping, if you catch my drift.”

  Oh, yes, Sabrina knew the look of guilt. It had been all over her own face, apparently, when she and Lena had their talk. “Did you ask her what she was doing, Cath?”

  “Yes, I did. She said she was looking for blank writing paper.”

  “Well, perhaps she was.”

  “Ma’am.” Cath tried to suppress her tone of exasperation. “Your blank writing paper is sitting in full view on top of the little table next to the file cabinets. I refresh it every couple days, I do. You can’t miss the box as the word ‘Paper’ is on the lid of it.”

  Sabrina blinked. If Cath didn’t think it impertinent, it was clear she would have rolled her eyes in disbelief at Sabrina’s willingness to give Felicity the benefit of the doubt.

  No one in the house staff or studio help ever said a word about Sabrina’s tendencies, but everyone knew, and everyone knew everyone knew—it was wordlessly understood. Indeed, in a happy reversal of how things usually went in the world of public opinion, everyone in Sabrina’s life was overly protective of their free-spirit mistress. She was, after all, an artiste. She was talented, and she was a performer, at least to them. That appellative covered her nicely they thought—an agreement confirmed not in conversation but in usage. “Our artiste is under the clouds, today,” or “Has our artiste gone on her weekly sojourn?” and similar comments both confirmed the inferential while gently designating the possessive. Our artiste. They liked the foreign sounding word as well. Artiste.

  “Hmm. Well, thank you, Cath, for looking out for me, for us. I will see what I can find out. I suspect it’s nothing, errant curiosity maybe. She must get so bored around here.”

  Cath stood. “Thank you, ma’am. Yes, I expect you’re right.”

  As Cath walked to the door, Sabrina stopped her. “What’s in those files, anyway?”

  “It’s the cabinet with the Glyver drawer,” Cath said. “That’s the one she had open.”

  Sabrina raised her eyebrows and nodded. She eyed the filing cabinet and walked over to it. She opened the second drawer, and saw dark green folders labeled “Glyver.” Looking at the full drawer increased the throbbing in her head, so she shut it decisively.

  “I’ll take a real look at it later. More coffee, Cath?”

  Jeremy arrived around noon. Sabrina was still in the library, reclining on the chesterfield, the blinds and draperies closed.

  “Good God, who died?” Jeremy exclaimed. Eyeing the empty laudanum bottle, he added, “Oh. I see that resolve and personal responsibility suffered an untimely death on the hallowed premises.”

  “We’ve separated, Jeremy.”

  “I think that suggests you’re out of supplies.”

  “No, I mean Lena and me. We’re taking a break.”

  Jeremy sat next to her on the couch. He placed his medical bag on the small table in front of them. “From what?”

  “From one another.”

  Jeremy reached over and put his hand firmly on Sabrina’s arm. “Oh dear, are you terribly upset?”

  Sabrina looked at him. “I’ll deny ever having said this aloud, Jeremy, but, no, I’m not terribly upset. I’m a little upset, and that’s why I drank the laudanum: I should be more upset. Well, first the headaches, then the separation from Lena, and then the three days at the Chinaman’s. And yes, I’m out of supplies, by the way. That was the last of it.”

  “Honestly, you look like you’ve been in a work gang in Nanking. You can’t be having that much in one sitting, Sabrina. This was to wean you off the opium, not create a new addiction.”

  “But it is opium,” Sabrina countered.

  “Greatly diluted,” Jeremy said. “It’s nowhere near the levels you had smoking opium. But that much on top of whatever you’ve ingested the past few days…”

  “The bottle was nearly empty. One swallow. And it doesn’t always work on my headaches.”

  “Or your love life, apparently. So, let’s try a couple of months without it. Come now, let’s try it.”

  “Will I have withdrawal? That was the worst part of opium. I can’t go through that again, Jeremy.” Her voice was unsteady, wavering.

  Sabrina began to perspire. She leaned over and held her head in her hands, her elbows resting on her knees.

  “I know what you need,” Jeremy said. “As unscientific as it might seem, I’m going to give you a single dose of laudanum, and you must go to bed. It will let you sleep off most of this morning’s indulgence. It’s—” he looked at his pocket watch, “nearly two, so you should sleep until well after midnight. Stay in bed until tomorrow morning. Lots of water but sip it. No food, Sabrina.”

  “Absolute last thing on my mind,” she whispered.

  She watched apathetically as he stood up and rummaged through his medicine bag. He pulled out a small tincture of laudanum and told her to take one swallow. Her hand shook as she reached for it.

  He turned to put his bag back in order, and either by habit or intent, she took two swallows. When he turned back around, she had closed the bottle, reached across the table and dropped it into his open bag.

  “Good, now let’s get you to bed.”

  “Fluffy Franny, Jeremy.”

  “I beg your pardon?” He looked at her closely.

  “The second woman to die was someone called Fluffy Franny. I’ve been so preoccupied, or besotted, I forgot to tell you. She was working at Mrs. Janzek’s when she was killed, but she worked at Mrs. Tornage’s before that. Don’t you remember that large, loud woman who was at the bottom of the stairs the first night you took me there?”

  “Well, no, I don’t—wait! I do remember her. Yes, yes…That’s why she looked vaguely familiar to me when I did the autopsy. Jesus. Someone stabbed her—repeatedly…”

  “And Annie Johnson, Jeremy. Mendicott told me she worked at Mrs. Tornage’s, too.

  “I definitely didn’t recognize her,” he said.

  “No, she worked there before we ever thought to visit such a place. I feel so unwell, Jeremy…” Sabrina leaned on him heavily.

  Jeremy held her around the waist as she weaved unsteadily out of the library. Getting her up the stairs proved more challenging. With each step, Sabrina, groaning, claimed her own death was imminent. Jeremy was not without empathy, but he addressed her exaggerations.

  “Really, Sabrina, if that stuff hasn’t killed you by this point, it’s unlikely that a diluted version will do it now.”

  They passed Felicity’s room, and Sabrina saw the door ajar as mother and baby napped.

  “Shall I get Cath to help you undress?” Jeremy asked.

  Sabrina said no, entered her room and crawled into bed fully clothed. She pretended to fall asleep. Jeremy left her door open a few inches and went downstairs to give Cath instructions on Sabrina’s care.

  Felicity heard movement in the hallway and opened her eyes. She heard Jeremy leaving Sabrina’s room. Moments later, standing in her own doorway near the top of the staircase, Felicity had heard the doctor tell Cath to let Sabrina sleep undisturbed for at least ten hours. “Make sure she stays warm and covered,” he said, “as she’s got a withdrawal fever and is likely to get the shivers when it breaks. It’s expected.”

  Jeremy left and Cath went back to her kitchen.

  After a while, Felicity checked on her sleeping baby and then slipped into Sabrina’s room. She looked at Sabrina’s sweat-drenched face and trembling body, and her throat constricted with a rush of emotions. She sat on the side of the bed with her for a while. This woman was ill, and Felicity regretted how cavalier she had been in teasing her with inebriated flirtations. Sabrina was an addict, a seriously afflicted addict. But generous, and sincere. Sabrina was a good woman, she deserved better.

  Chapter 17

  Sabrina awoke with a start after midnight. She was burning hot and moved to throw the heavy coverlets off when she realized she was not alone. Felicity lay next to her, fully clothed, atop the covers, her arm draped across Sabrina’s stomach.

 
; Sabrina turned her head to watch the sleeping woman. She was as pretty in sleep as when awake. Her eyelashes, long and luxurious, rested below her eyes as if guarding the blue iris within. She could feel the warmth of Felicity’s body even separated from her by the covers. Sabrina slipped out of bed and went behind the screen and into her bathroom. She threw cold water on her face. Rising from her position over the sink, her bruised reflection in the mirror startled her.

  Her eyes looked black, the skin under them purple. Touching her parched lips and peering closely at a dappled face of skin tones mottled yellow, she thought herself half dead.

  She splashed her face and upper body with more cold water. It seemed to help, so she did it again. And a third time, lingering as the cold water poured over her wrists. Then she ran warm water and washed her entire body with a soft washcloth. After a while, she felt her body temperature regain its equilibrium. She returned to the bed, but left the covers off.

  Felicity, still asleep, moved beside her. For what seemed like another hour, they lay silently, Sabrina drifting in and out of sleep, listening to Felicity’s easy breathing, dreaming of a vague montage of colors with no discernible form.

  For two more days, Sabrina and Felicity stayed in her bedroom and her bed. She found one of Sabrina’s nightshirt to wear for those times Cath came in to air out the room, fluff up the bed, bring light soup and tea, refresh the water jug.

  Sabrina slept most of the time, and though she acknowledged Felicity’s presence, she was too weak to comment when Felicity softly encouraged Sabrina to allow assistance, too unselfconscious of her condition to register a protest, even when Felicity helped her to the bathroom several times. Sabrina heard her own monosyllabic responses and thought they more resembled sounds than words.

  Around midnight of the third day, a fully conscious Sabrina rose alone and walked steadily into her bathroom to repeat her ablutions with the cold and warm water cleansing. She finished by throwing ice-cold water on her face from a jug Cath had filled earlier. The bracing tingle on her skin gave it a rosy flush. Looking into the mirror, she saw her eyes were bright and clear.