A Light Amongst Shadows

by Kelley York

  A shudder courses through me. I bury my face against his shoulder, biting back every emotion I’m feeling, and yet my voice still comes out laced with tremors. “I’m so sorry. I should have told you.”

  “You owe me no apologies.” William cradles me against him, lying back and wrapping his smaller figure around mine, as though he might somehow shield me from the rest of the world by doing so. “This isn’t your fault.”

  I don’t think I knew how badly I wanted to hear that up until now. For someone to tell me they believe me, and that it isn’t some sort of overreaction on my part. That the excuses my uncle fed to me were not, in fact, justified at all. In hindsight, I feel almost ridiculous for thinking William would react any other way. Then again, I never thought my parents would turn their backs on me when I needed them most, either.

  William holds me close and tight for the better part of an hour, simply stroking my hair and face, rubbing my back. He doesn’t say anything and that’s all right; he doesn’t need to. I am comfortable. Safe. Once I’ve calmed, I’m incredibly worn out but feeling better than I have in a long while, and eventually I press a warm kiss against William’s throat and murmur a thank you against his flushed skin. He makes the softest of pleased sounds in response and asks, “Do you want to stay?”

  I pull back just enough to meet his gaze. “I do. I would feel better keeping an eye on you. You look miserable.”

  “I’m fine,” William insists. “I just…need to ride this out.”

  Is it really so easy? Not that I would have any idea. “If there’s anything I can do, I hope you’ll tell me,” I murmur, ducking my head to kiss him on the mouth. William gingerly touches my cheek.

  When he draws away, he looks so exhausted and not quite in his right mind, but he has a smile upon his face. “Ah. I almost forgot, I have something for you.”

  “Do you?”

  “Top drawer there.” A nod directs me towards his dresser.

  Curious, I slide out of bed, pulling open the drawer. There on the top, above neatly folded socks and undergarments, are a few large sheets of paper, rolled and tied with string. I pull them out, lose the ties, and unroll them atop the dresser. “Are these…drafts of the school?”

  William rolls onto his side, watching me through half-lidded eyes. “Put them next to one another. What do you notice?”

  I do as instructed, scanning over one map—which looks significantly older, ink worn in places and the parchment yellowed—and the other, which is dated in one corner just a few years ago. I study the labels of each room, take notice of the stairwells and where the breaks in lines signify doorways. It takes me a minute, but when I see it, my eyes widen. “There are doors missing on the newer map.”

  “Exactly. I only procured those yesterday, so I’ve not had a chance to investigate, but doors don’t simply disappear.”

  This is an incredible find, and one that has my hopes soaring for the first time in a while. I turn to him. “Where did you get these?”

  He shrugs. “The records room. I figured there had to be something of use beyond the student files, so…”

  “You broke in,” I say, incredulous.

  “Breaking in is such a coarse way of wording it. I merely begged the key from May again.”

  Oh, what a ridiculous and perfect man he is.

  “We’ll investigate and see what’s become of those doors now, if they’ve not been sealed up.” Just not any time soon, I think. Not if William is feeling so miserable. I’ll not drag him around in this state.

  Although, he seems to have other ideas. “Tomorrow?”

  I give him a long look and decide it isn’t a battle I want to fight right now. That’s a bridge we will cross if his condition has not improved by then. Nodding, I roll the maps back up and lay them atop the dresser. Shedding my shoes and everything above the waist, I crawl into bed once more to curl myself around William.

  He sighs, and I feel his lips ghosting little kisses along my throat in a way that makes me shiver pleasantly. “For now, try to get some rest. I can tell by your face you’ve been sleeping poorly.”

  True, but I think that I’ll sleep just fine tonight. It’s still early, and the bell has just rung for dinner, but rest sounds far more appealing. “Sweet dreams, dear William.”

  William drifts off to sleep surprisingly quickly, but I lie awake and listen to the sound of his breathing. Lying so close to me like this, I’m all too aware of how impossibly hot to the touch he is. Worrisome. But he sleeps soundly and, eventually, I follow suit.

  For a while, I get some good, solid sleep. Only awhile, though, because the last thing either of us needs is to get caught like this. Which means when I wake several hours past curfew, I reluctantly untangle myself from William and slide out of bed. I’m used to him not stirring an inch when I do so, but normally that’s because he’s too medicated to be aware of me. This, though, is different. He truly isn’t feeling well.

  I lean down, smoothing his hair back and kissing his forehead. Then I gather my clothes, slip back into my shirt, and hurry downstairs to my own room.

  There, I strip down completely and change into my night clothes. Despite a few hours of sleep already, I’m grateful to be able to collapse into bed and close my eyes. Even after all this time, I still find myself listening for the sound of Oscar’s breathing across the room. My chest hurts and, God, I hope those maps lead me to the answer I’ve been looking for.

  Come morning, I dress quickly and dart upstairs to William’s room. He’s not budged an inch, and it takes me giving his shoulder a shake and saying his name to rouse him. His fever doesn’t appear to have broken, but despite my protests, he drags himself from bed and sets about getting ready.

  While he does so, I pull out the maps to go over them at his table, using a pen and ink to circle any differences. There are only two I’ve noticed thus far. One is a door on the second floor that appears to lead to a very small supply closet-shaped room, and I don’t think it’s quite what we’re after. The other is located on the ground floor, off of the kitchens. The original map doesn’t show that it opens into other rooms, but rather, to a set of stairs.

  Exactly what we’re looking for.

  I glance up, mouth open to tell William what I’ve found, and see him braced against his washing table, head bowed, water dripping from his face and hair. I push back my seat to get up. “William?”

  “I’m all right,” he says quickly, reaching for his towel to dry himself off. He hasn’t bothered to shave, which is so unlike him that it might be more worrisome than anything else thus far.

  If he’s determined to go to class, there’s little I can do to stop him. Little I can do but watch as he pushes his breakfast around his plate, taking no more than a few bites, and he sits listlessly through Latin and I’m just waiting for the moment where he passes out again.

  When he has to go on his own to his next few lessons, I find myself squirming through my own classes, fretting over his well-being. Come dinner, when he’s looking worse enough and announces to me that he doesn’t feel like eating, I think I need to be more insistent that he seek some help. He’s scarcely touched his meals all day, and his skin is still scalding to the touch when I catch him by the arm and press the back of my hand to his clammy forehead.

  “I really think you ought to let Doctor Mitchell look over you.”

  William recoils at the suggestion, shaking off my hand. “He’ll only insist on giving me laudanum to treat my symptoms.”

  “You’re getting worse,” I press. “Maybe he’ll have other ideas. You can tell him you don’t want to take it.”

  His jaw clenches, and the look he gives me is both anxious and defiant. “I don’t want to, James.”

  I have no interest in pushing William into doing anything he doesn’t want to do, but… “I’m sorry, but I’m worried about you.”

  He sighs, rubbing the back of his neck. “I don’t trust Doctor Mitchell. How many students fell ‘ill’ and then vanished while he wa
s supposedly caring for them? Not to mention, isn’t he the one who told King you were nosing about?”

  That’s a fair enough argument. “May I stay with you for a bit tonight?”

  William’s expression appears to soften. “I suppose. How can I say no to that face?”

  I smile. “It is a very sweet face, isn’t it?”

  He steals a quick touch to my cheek. “It is. Now go on, go fetch yourself some dinner. I’ll be fine on my own for a spell.”

  I would feel better if he’d come with me, or would at least ask me to bring him something back. Perhaps I’ll sneak some things out of the dining hall with me.

  As it so happens, I manage to tuck away a couple of rolls and smuggle a few tea sandwiches wrapped in a napkin away from the dinner table. It isn’t much, and not particularly the healthiest of meals, but it’s better than the whole lot of nothing he’s feasted on today. I keep my meal short, eager to get back to him.

  When I do, the first thing I notice upon entering the room is that the window is wide open, sending a shiver straight down my spine. “It’s freezing in here.”

  The second thing I notice is that William does not so much as stir at my entrance. The most I get out of him is a soft noise when I approach the bed and reach out to touch his forehead.

  Christ, he’s burning up.

  “Sweetheart, are you all right?”

  William lets out a sigh, leaning into my cool hand. “Fine,” he mumbles, blindly reaching for me as though to drag me down beside him. I do allow myself to sit upon the edge of the mattress, abandoning the stolen snacks onto his dresser.

  “Your fever is getting worse, William. Do you want a cool cloth?” When he relinquishes his hold on my sleeve and nods, I crawl right back to my feet and go to his wash table, where the basin is still full of cold, seemingly clean water. I dunk a square of linen into it, wring it out, and return to William to gingerly wipe down his face and then settle the folded, damp cloth across his forehead. A plaintive noise escapes William’s mouth at first, but he doesn’t fuss at me beyond that.

  There must be something I can do. It kills me to see him like this, helpless and miserable. Short of going to Doctor Mitchell, all I know to do is to keep him comfortable. I lie down beside him, and William promptly curls up against me, face buried against my chest. If it brings him any comfort, I’m happy to hold him and stroke his hair back from his face, occasionally rising to re-wet the cloth, and allow him to rest.

  Eventually, of course, I have to go back to my own room, something I’m far more reluctant about than I’ve been any other night. I dampen the cloth one last time to lay it across William’s forehead, bend down to kiss his cheek, tuck him in, close the window at least most of the way, and let myself out. William doesn’t move an inch at any of this.

  A few steps down the hall, I become aware that I’m not alone.

  I come to an abrupt halt, face to face with a figure at the top of the stairs, and my heart lodges into my throat and steals my breath.

  Then the figure lifts the candlestick in his hand and light washes across his frowning face.

  “Spencer? What are you doing out?”

  Virgil. But of course. When it rains, it pours, and I’m not certain if this is better or worse than encountering a ghost. I cannot even bring myself to care overly much about getting into trouble right now. “Just heading to my room.”

  He heaves a sigh, moving down the hall towards me. “Two hours after curfew? You know what that means.”

  “Then write me up and I’ll stand on my head outside of my room again or whatever.”

  That makes his eyebrows shoot up and his mouth downturn. “Someone’s in a foul temper. Something bothering you?”

  “William is unwell,” I say, figuring I’m not divulging any secrets with that. Plenty of people have seen as much over the last two days.

  Virgil hmms, glancing from me to the door a few feet behind me. “Feeling unwell enough to have company in his room this late?” It isn’t an accusatory tone, really; merely curious.

  “It would seem that way.”

  “Has Doctor Mitchell been to see him?”

  My jaw tightens. “William has no interest in seeing the good doctor.”

  “Why is that?” He steps around me and goes to William’s door, lifting his free hand to knock.

  “I would appreciate it if you didn’t wake him,” I say quickly, and he lowers his hand. “I’m also not certain why that’s your business. He simply doesn’t want to.”

  “I heard he fainted in class the other day.” He casts a glance my way. “If he doesn’t wish to be seen by Doctor Mitchell, then perhaps I can be of assistance.”

  I raise an eyebrow. “Are you a doctor?”

  “My father is. I’ve worked alongside him since I was a child.”

  I study Virgil for a long moment. I’ve never quite been able to get a read on him, but he’s never been unkind, exactly. And rather than doling out a punishment to me, he’s offering to help. That ought to count for something. I finally relent by nodding towards the door. “He’s been sleeping most of the evening.”

  Virgil pokes his head into the room before stepping inside, and I follow after him, unwilling to allow anyone I don’t fully know or trust be left alone with William. While Virgil moves to his bedside, I linger nearby, arms crossed, to silently observe.

  He picks up William’s hand, pressing fingers to his wrist, feels his face, lifts his eyelids. He even attempts to gently wake him, to which William only makes the quietest of sounds in response. When he pulls back, it’s to look about the room. “I’ve heard rumour he partakes of opium on a regular basis. Is that true?”

  My gaze snaps to him. “Not anymore.”

  That appears to get Virgil’s attention because he turns to me, frowning deeply. “When did he stop? Recently?”

  William and I weren’t exactly speaking, so… “It’s been a few days, I believe.”

  Virgil sighs. “And he stopped abruptly? Do you know what sort of dosage he was taking?”

  “I cannot say that I ever asked him. It seemed a rather private thing.”

  “You need to take him to Doctor Mitchell, Spencer.”

  “I’ve told you that isn’t going to happen. If you have other suggestions, I’m listening.”

  Virgil’s look is an unimpressed one, but it is not unkind. “Last summer, a woman came into my father’s clinic, the wife of a merchant. At first glance, she simply displayed symptoms for a bad cold and stress.”

  “Fascinating story.”

  “And then she admitted she had been taking regular doses of laudanum, exceeding the recommended amount. When she attempted to stop abruptly, it caused many complications. She died after a convulsive fit two days later.”

  He may as well have doused me in cold water. “What?”

  “The medical community has known for ages about the physical dependence of this stuff. The more one takes, the more their body relies on it to function normally.”

  “And when they stop?”

  Virgil ticks them off on his fingers. “Cold-like symptoms, for starters. Fevers, insomnia, aches and pains, nervousness, agitation, nausea… In the worst of cases, fits, severe dehydration, and heart problems. Why do you think they’ve begun cracking down on the accessibility of opium-based medications? There’s a reason they label it as poison.” He turns to William. “Father said it would have been wiser had his patient been weaned off the medicine, allowing her body to adjust without subjecting her to the side-effects of withdrawal.”

  I brace a hand against William’s wash table, trying to breathe, trying not to panic as this situation has just grown far worse than I had imagined. “Do you think that would work? Would he be all right? How slow would I need to wean him off it?”

  Virgil holds up a hand. “Those would be questions better suited for a doctor. I’m afraid any suggestion of mine would only be a guess.”

  “It would be better than my guess,” I plead.

  He fr
owns, and I worry he’s going to again direct me to Doctor Mitchell, but— “My assumption is that Esher was taking a much higher dose than prescribed. So, give him only the standard dosage, just to take the edge off. It won’t fix the problem completely, and he may be bed-bound for a bit, but it should help. Just keep the bottle away from him so he doesn’t try to take any when you aren’t looking. Taper him off slowly and, God willing, he’ll be fine.”

  My mind is racing a mile a minute. How do I even get my hands on this stuff without going to the doctor? I have no way to reach town on my own. “Thank you, Appleton. I’ll see to it.”

  “Should you need me, I trust you know where to find me.”

  I duck my head, falling silent. After Virgil takes his leave, I check on William once more before retreating to my room, ever more anxious about leaving him alone.

  Sleep, of course, does not come easily. The few times I doze off, I begin to dream of waking and finding William dead in his bed. William, hollow-eyed and pale skinned, just like the ghosts wandering the school. I had no idea that William’s attempt to cease his medication would be so grave a matter, and I could shake him for either not looking into it beforehand, or simply not informing me of the risks.

  I must figure out a way to obtain a bottle of laudanum myself. Doctor Mitchell would have some in stock, no doubt; it’s used to treat everything from colds to nervous fits to nausea. But if I’ve learned anything about Doctor Mitchell, it’s that he takes his job seriously and would probably notice if such a thing turned up missing.

  William got his supply from one of the maids, May, who would purchase it during her bi-weekly trips into town for supplies. William would leave the funds inside the trinket box in the common room, and May would swap it for the laudanum. How neither of them has been caught after all this time, I haven’t the foggiest idea, but I suppose it’s now my turn to give it a try.