The Gray Chamber

by Grace Hitchcock

  A hint of a smile appeared in the corners of her lips. “Very well. I would offer you a room nearby, but …” Her frightened gaze slowly moved to the window and back to him as if she were ashamed.

  “I don’t mind sleeping on the settee or even the floor if I grow uncomfortable with being curled up. I’d rather be near you.”

  She caught his hand. “I appreciate it. Good night, Mr. Banebridge.”

  “Good night, Mrs. Banebridge.” He grinned, bent down, and kissed her forehead, pulling the covers up to her chin before he curled onto the settee and drifted off to sleep.

  Edyth’s screaming jarred him to his core. Nearly falling off the narrow settee, Bane crossed the room to her bed in an instant, seized her hand in his, and cupped the other to her cheek. “Edyth? Wake up. You are safe!”

  With a whimper, she sat up, her cheeks still wet with tears. “Bane, I am sorry. I was having a nightmare.” She gave a shiver and moaned, clutching her shoulder.

  “Do you need anything?” He stroked back her hair, wishing he could bear the pain for her. “Perhaps the medicine the doctor sent to help you sleep?”

  “No. It makes me feel like I am drowning. Just a cup of water, please.” She pressed a hand to her throat. “I’m always parched these days.”

  He poured her a glass from the pitcher on the nightstand and held it to her lips.

  “Thank you,” she whispered, wiping her mouth with the back of her hand as he set aside the glass and settled her back onto the pillow.

  “I’m worried about you, Edyth.”

  “Me too.” She bit her lip. “Would you mind staying with me?”

  “I am.” He gestured to the settee three yards away.

  “No, I mean beside me. If I can feel your warmth, I won’t be so afraid. I was never warm in the asylum, and with you beside me, I will know it’s only a bad dream keeping me captive and not reality. Would you mind terribly?”

  For his answer, Bane sat on the bed beside her and slipped his arm around her, allowing her to rest her head on his chest, her breathing evening out. “Better?”

  “Much. Bane?”

  “Yes?”

  “Thank you,” she whispered.

  “We will get through this, Edyth. One day you will wake up and feel better, I know it, but it will take time. We can’t expect that your heart is healing at the same pace as your body.”

  She lifted her lips and grazed his chin. “You make it easier. God knew what I needed when He sent you.”

  Chapter Twenty-Five

  My wish is to stay always like this, living quietly in a corner of nature.

  ~ Claude Monet

  The gulls cawed overhead and the wind rippled through her hair as she stood on the back lawn of her mansion in Newport, her easel facing out toward the ocean. Bane lay under the willow tree on a plaid blanket with the kitten crawling over the back of his legs, reading to Edyth from Poppy’s Bible, fulfilling her promise to the dear girl to read it every day. Her uncle hadn’t cared for her expressing her thoughts about God because he thought church was only meant to be attended on holidays when it was fashionable … but it was so much more. Poppy had shown her what it was like to truly have an unashamed thirst for God and His Word. Without Poppy sharing the Word, Edyth knew she could have easily despaired on the island. “Read those last few passages again, won’t you?” she asked her husband, lingering in her strokes.

  Bane cleared his throat and read again, his rich voice bringing further life to the psalm that she had taken for granted before the asylum. “‘He sent from above, he took me, he drew me out of many waters. He delivered me from my strong enemy, and from them which hated me: for they were too strong for me. They prevented me in the day of my calamity: but the Lord was my stay. He brought me forth also into a large place; he delivered me, because he delighted in me.’”

  Her throat swelled as she paused in her depiction of the lone ship on the ocean. How well she knew those verses now. The good Lord had spared her again and again. While she did not understand why it was she and not her parents who lived, she now knew the truth of what really had happened that day, and she would never paint from that obsession or sorrow again. She would paint the words the Lord placed on her heart each day. And so she painted the ocean before her to remember how He had drawn her out of its depths and breathed life into her weary soul, giving her a new hope and a new future with Bane.

  “Mr. and Mrs. Banebridge!” The head maid came trotting toward them from the house. “You have a visitor, Mrs. Banebridge.”

  “On our honeymoon?” Bane grumbled, rising and scooping up the kitten. “Who is it, Sally?”

  “It’s a lady reporter, a Miss Bly.” Sally bent over, clutching her side as she reached for the kitten. “I—I tried to put her in the parlor, but she is in the foyer, saying she didn’t wish to take up too much of your time and was only here to give you something. I’ll fetch some tea though, unless you want me to send her away?”

  “Oh no, please make tea.” Edyth set aside her brushes at once, wiping her hands on her drop cloth. While she was aware that Nellie had begun releasing her articles in the New York World, Bane had thought it might be best for her anxiety to wait to read them until she had healed a little more emotionally, physically, and spiritually. And she had willingly agreed.

  “Are you ready to see her?” Bane whispered, taking her hand in his as they crossed the green.

  Edyth paused at the bottom of the back steps, breathing heavily. “It will take time for the memories to stop throbbing, but my fears of being taken away are slowly abating.” She took both his hands into her own. “I know my future does not belong to anyone but God.” She shook her head and released a little laugh. “I wish it were possible to offer a onetime prayer to God and my anxiety would disappear, but for me, it has been a slow healing, and I must offer up my burdens to Him every time I open my eyes.”

  “And I’ll be here for you, as long as it takes for you to be free from this anxiety.”

  She kissed the top of his hands. “Then let’s take the next step by confronting the past head-on. No more running.”

  They entered the house and found Nellie standing in the gilded marble foyer, her hands clasped around her ever-present notebook. Edyth left Bane’s side and rushed to embrace her friend, wincing slightly from the pressure on her still-healing wound.

  “Nellie! How is Poppy? I had my lawyer inquire, but last I heard, she was still ill.”

  Nellie squeezed her hand. “That is partly why I came in person. I wish I could bring you news of her health, but Poppy is in a better place. She is with her father and mother at last.”

  Edyth swallowed. She had feared as much, but to her surprise, she felt a modicum of relief mixed with her sorrow, for now her dear friend was with Jesus and her beloved parents. “At least we know that she is happy and at peace.”

  Bane came to her and rubbed his hand gently on her back, offering her strength at the news.

  Nellie looked at him and dipped into a short curtsy. “Bane, I mean, Mr. Banebridge, I feel as if I know you already. It is a pleasure to formally meet you.”

  Bane bowed. “The honor is mine to meet the woman who comforted Edyth when I could not.”

  “Knowing that Edyth was safe in your hands despite my poorly executed efforts that last day in the asylum has helped assuage the guilt I felt.”

  “Guilt?” Edyth asked.

  “I cannot tell you how I regret not summoning my contact sooner for you, Edyth. I was fully intending on having you leave with me. I didn’t think they would actually subject you to the Gray Chamber before then.”

  Edyth squeezed her hand. “Let us not speak of the chamber or of guilt. Tell me, how are your articles being received?”

  Nellie’s eyes filled as she gave a short nod and paused to draw a breath before answering, “That is the other reason why I am here. I wanted to give you this in person since it is as much your story as mine.” She pressed a stack of newspaper articles into Edyth’s hands. �
��The installments of our story have all been released and have already caused quite the stir. People are outraged.”

  The first headline read in bold lettering BEHIND ASYLUM BARS. Shaking slightly, Edyth’s fingers grazed over the title, memory’s knife sticking her anew, but before she could look at any of the others, Bane took the stack and set them on the foyer’s gold-leaf table.

  “My editor wishes to turn the articles into a book! People are clamoring for answers, and so I was summoned for the grand jury’s investigation.”

  Edyth gasped. “An investigation?”

  “Yes, and there are rumors flying about the city of a million dollars to be donated to the asylum for the benefit of the patients,” Nellie added.

  A million? That would go a long way to helping the patients … but only if the staff, namely Nurse Sweeney, was dismissed. “And of the staff? Will the guilty parties be held responsible?”

  “All are being evaluated individually. Most of the doctors will be dismissed as will, I’m certain, the nurses. The new staff is to be supervised in order to provide accountability for the treatment of the patients.” She clasped Edyth’s hand. “We did it.”

  “You did it,” Edyth whispered, in disbelief of how much a series of articles could change the lives of hundreds in the present and thousands in the future.

  “You helped me learn and be a part of the stories of others. We have given a voice to the voiceless. Poppy’s death will not go unnoticed. Her story has touched the city.”

  Her tears welled for Poppy, for herself, and for the countless others on Blackwell’s Island. They would all have a better life. She buried her face into her hands and wept as Bane wrapped her in the safety of his arms.

  Edyth stood on the cliff’s edge, arms spread wide, allowing the ocean’s breeze to flow over her as Bane held her securely by her waist. “I never want our wedding trip to end.”

  Bane kissed her lightly on the cheek. “I feel the same, my sweet wife.”

  She sighed, turning around to face her husband. “But, I suppose with Uncle’s looming trial, we really should be returning.”

  “Actually, I wanted to discuss another option for you. Your uncle’s attorney, Jasper Wentworth, sent an offer to settle outside of court to avoid further scandal.”

  She frowned. “But why would Jasper suddenly wish to give up?”

  “Because of Nellie’s articles. I read them while you were napping this week. It is harrowing. New York is in an uproar, and our lawyer is elated. Mr. Foster immediately confessed his part of the scheme and has relinquished any and all control as your guardian. You are a free woman, and with our marriage, your fortune has been released to you, my love.”

  She threw her arms around his neck. “We are safe! Part of me worried that it was all too good to be true and that the courts would have our marriage annulled due to my supposed insanity.”

  He pulled her into a kiss. “And what will you be doing with all of this newfound freedom?”

  “First off, I shall have my lawyer look into each patient’s admission into the asylum and secure another round of testing for every single woman there in order to free anyone who was falsely committed. Then, I will arrange an annual stipend to be donated to the asylum.”

  He pulled back, his brows furrowed. “That’s very generous of you, but aren’t you afraid any testing will be a farce and funds given will be squandered, especially after they so wronged you?”

  “With Nellie’s story, the doctors and nurses will have been thoroughly interviewed by now and the bad ones weeded out. And, if I allot funds, I’ll have the power to say how they are used. My funds will hire not only a cook to prepare decent meals fit for a lady, but also give the women an outlet by allowing them to have music and painting available to them, a small measure of comfort in their trials. It’s not right that I live in luxury after meeting those souls on the island and not do anything to ease their lot in life dealt to them by their own relatives.”

  “I am so proud of you.” Bane squeezed her hand, his voice rough.

  She lifted a smile to him. “Then you’ll hopefully be doubly proud of me with this next announcement.”

  “Oh?”

  “I sent word to Mr. Pittman a few days ago to see that your fencing club loans are paid off and that the deed is sent to you the moment the funds are mine.”

  His jaw dropped. “That’s too much.”

  She tapped her finger to her lips and tilted her head. “So, you would risk your life for me, marry me without hesitation to protect me and fight for my freedom every day, but somehow my paying off your loans is too much?”

  He shook his head and laughed. “I love you, Edyth Banebridge.”

  “I love you more,” she replied with a wink.

  He sighed. “I’m afraid that is not possible.” He pressed a finger to her lips, staying her protest. “And before you argue, I suppose now is as good a time to ask you what I was going to ask you when we returned to the city.”

  Her eyes grew wide, having not the vaguest idea of what he meant.

  “I want you to be the first female fencing instructor at the club and take over the female students.”

  “Bane!” She squealed as he gently spun with her in his arms. She leaned her head against his chest, thankful for a man who not only cared for her but cherished her. It had been so long, but now her eternal winter was over. She was safe, loved, and protected at last. She lifted her lips to him.

  His brows shot up and he grinned, that tantalizing dimple appearing in his cheek. “What’s this? I suppose you’re asking for a kiss?”

  “That would be most agreeable, sir.”

  “What are the odds that I would find it most agreeable as well?” With a roguish grin, Bane pulled her into his embrace and whispered, “I am yours and you are mine, Edyth Banebridge.”

  “Forever,” she whispered, allowing herself to be swept away in his kiss that day and every day for the rest of their lives.

  Author’s Note

  While Edyth Foster is a fictional character, her tale of being committed in order for her family to seize her wealth is inspired by a true story. Grandmother Blakely’s account is also inspired by true stories. In my research, the grounds by which the institute would commit women to the asylum were shocking. I read stories of women being committed just because they were immigrants who were unable to speak English, or because they suffered from postpartum depression. In far too many cases, the woman held no power and had no way to prove her sanity.

  The New York World’s exposé, Ten Days in a Mad-House, written by Nellie Bly, or Nellie Brown as she was known in the asylum, did wonders for the patients on Blackwell’s Island where the so-called treatments included plunging the patients into cold water until they lost consciousness in order to calm their “frenzied” state and injecting their patients with copious amounts of various drugs such as morphine and chloral, driving them into madness. Many nurses at the asylum did indeed beat their patients, strangling them to the point of almost fainting and “teasing” the patients to make them lose their tempers so the nurses could further pinch and torment them before sending them to the Lodge for solitary confinement or to the Retreat for their “treatments.”

  In my research of the asylum and its many buildings, there was a reference made to a closet room in the main asylum, or Mad-House as they called it, where they would take patients to nearly strangle or drown them in tubs of water. It is from this closet that the idea for The Gray Chamber was born.

  For the sake of my story, I did take a few liberties. I took the “treatments” used in the Retreat and placed them in the Gray Chamber to make Edyth’s escape coinciding with Bane’s rescue more fluid. And while there was a “Lunatics’ Ball” held at the asylum, it did not occur during Nellie’s time there, so I chose to adjust the actual dates to fit it into the story. It was interesting to note that by 1871, all the male patients on the island were transferred to Ward’s Island to accommodate the overflow of women patients, so that is why
there were no male patients at the ball. Also, reading was not permitted in any form in the asylum, so Poppy’s Bible was my addition.

  After Nellie’s articles were released, there was a grand jury investigation where Nellie swore to the validity of her words. The staff were examined as well as the treatments, facilities, and food given to the patients. And, despite the asylum attempting to put on an exhibit of their perfectly baked bread and clean kitchen, the jury saw through the asylum’s farce and sustained Nellie Bly’s account, advising for her proposed changes. Because of Nellie’s exposé and the ruling, provision for a million dollars was allotted to aid the patients inside the asylum’s walls.

  To read Nellie’s firsthand account, check out her book Ten Days in a Mad-House, which is the horrifying true crime story that inspired this novel. Look for Jude Thorpe’s story in The White City.

  Acknowledgments

  To my husband, Dakota, I love you more, and since this is printed in a book, it is true.

  To my little boy, you are my heart. I love being your mama.

  To the future Doctor Madden and Mrs. Madden, thank you for your expert medical advice and for allowing me to shoot dear Edyth and stab Uncle Boris with confidence.

  To my favorite Doctor of Jurisprudence and ole partner in crime, Charlie, thank you for correcting my “lawyer” scenes and saving me from certain legal demise.

  To my wonderful betas, Theresa and McKenna, thank you for your guidance and encouragement.

  To my family, Dad, Mama, Charlie, Molly, Sam, Natalie, and Eli, thank you for all of your support and for babysitting while I write!

  To my fantastic agent, Tamela Hancock Murray, I could not imagine writing without you on my side. Thank you for all that you do!

  To Becky, Shalyn, Liesl, Laura, and the Barbour Publishing team, and Ellen, thank you for believing in me and coaching me. You are all wonderful!