by Kelley York
All I know about May is her name, not a thing about what she looks like or what, exactly, her job entails. However, logic says she would be someone who has reason to come into the dorms, and thus has easy access to the common room. Which doesn’t narrow it down terribly much but gives me a starting point. There are servants who deliver our fresh bath water just outside our bedroom doors each morning, servants who scrub the floors and banisters, servants who empty the chamber pots once the students have gone to class.
This is precisely why I wake with the sun come morning and make quick work of dressing. Before even popping upstairs to check on William, I venture through Gawain Hall, in search of whoever might be working.
The first member of staff I encounter is an older woman, grey-haired but clear-eyed. She pauses in the middle of scooping the ash from the common room fireplace, wiping her soot-covered hands on her apron.
I pause in the doorway, hands behind my back and a smile upon my face. “Good morning.”
“Mornin’,” she greets, almost cautiously. “Bit early for you boys to be up, isn’t it?”
“Quite. I couldn’t sleep. I wonder, might you be able to tell me if one of your girls, May, is around?”
Her brows pinch together. “Has she done somethin’ wrong?”
“No, no, not at all. In fact, she found something of mine I’d lost and saw fit to return it; I wanted to thank her personally.”
The old woman appears to relax. “Ah. Well, she’d be scrubbin’ down the bathroom right about now, I’d reckon.”
I tip my head in her direction, thank her, and scoot out of the common room to head downstairs.
For the most part, our bathing regime is simply a good wash in our own rooms. Now and again, it isn’t enough, or one simply prefers the comfort of a full, proper bath. Should the servants have to cart water in to fill tubs for every student in school, they’d never have any time to rest.
Inside the bathroom—which is, frankly, just one large room with a row of tubs and wide windows, all of which are open—I spot a woman on all fours, vigorously scrubbing at the floor. I step inside, stealing a proper look around to ensure we’re truly alone.
“May?”
The girl sits back on her haunches and lifts her head, startling me by the fact she cannot possibly be older than myself. “Sir?”
I have the right person, then. Excellent. I advance further into the room, hands folded behind my back, careful to keep my voice down so no passer-by happens to overhear. “I understand you’re familiar with one of the other third-year students. William Esher?”
May presses her lips tightly together, a touch of nervousness flashing across her eyes. “I’m afraid I don’t know many of the students by names.”
That’s not exactly a denial. I stop just before her, crouching down and attempting my best, most disarming smile. “I’m a friend of William’s, and I would like to request your assistance in obtaining a bottle of laudanum.”
She looks me over. “For you?”
“Well…”
“Because Mr. Esher came to me not a few days back and told me I was not to get any more for him, no matter if he changed his mind later.”
Damn him. “It’s not for William,” I say easily. “Although I can surely match whatever he was paying you for your services.”
“Never felt right about doing it before,” she admits, shoving the brush into her bucket and swiftly rising to her feet. “Didn’t feel good about it, see.”
“It would only be for a while,” I quickly counter, standing up, unable to help the edge of desperation in my voice. “I assure you, this is not a long-term agreement.”
May glances behind me, as though afraid this might be some kind of trick, or we’re being listened in on. “You know how we do the exchange?”
“The trinket box in the common room of Gawain Hall, yes.”
“All right. Two shillings. Thursday evenings. I’ll do the swap then.”
Two shillings is doable, albeit steep for a bottle that would cost me perhaps a quarter of that were I to have a way into town on my own. “Thank you, Miss.”
It’s a bittersweet victory. Yes, I will be able to obtain William’s medicine for him, but it’s only Wednesday morning, which means he’s going to have to suffer until tomorrow night, and who knows what time that will be?
I just need him to hang on a little bit longer.
When Mr. McLachlan requests me to stay after class, I’m unsurprised and don’t need to inquire as to why.
“Is Mr. Esher still unwell?” he asks, watching me in that careful way of his that I never quite know what to do with.
“He attempted getting through the day yesterday, but I’m afraid he lost that battle this morning. I urged him to stay in bed.”
“A wise decision. Has Doctor Mitchell been to see him?”
“He has opted out of seeing the good doctor.” I hug my books to my chest. “I don’t feel inclined to fight him on it. He’s certain, with rest, he’ll feel better in no time.”
I don’t think he likes that answer, not with the way his shoulders square and he looks at me intently. “He should be seeing a professional and not trying to make such judgments on his own, especially in his state.”
My gaze lowers. I could brush it off, of course, and with any other teacher, I just might. Perhaps I hold some bitterness towards Mr. McLachlan, though, because I’m still certain he knows more than he is willing to admit regarding Oscar’s disappearance. “With the number of boys who have mysteriously died while under the doctor’s care, I stand by William’s lack of confidence in him.”
Ah, I said one of those things again. It doesn’t quite turn the conversation awkward, but there is a certain edge of tension there that wasn’t before. Mr. McLachlan sighs. “For what it’s worth, I don’t believe that Doctor Mitchell had anything to do with things like that. And I feel that, given William’s health hasn’t been the best as of late, you might want to be wary that his stubbornness doesn’t exacerbate his condition.”
I meet his gaze without flinching and, in all sincerity, I say, “I would never let anything happen to William. I’m quite assured he’ll feel better soon and, if he doesn’t, I will do whatever is needed to make certain he’s properly looked after.”
Mr. McLachlan studies me wordlessly for a moment, as though he’s trying to assess me, before he nods and straightens up. “I’ll see to it that his school work is gathered up from his teachers, so he doesn’t fall behind.”
I’m grateful he has ceased arguing, and I’m more than ready to get out of here and check in on William; it hasn’t been easy being away from him all day. “Thank you, sir. Nothing says speedy recovery like a bunch of missed schoolwork.”
As agreed, I leave payment in the box Thursday afternoon, and spend the remainder of the evening with William until curfew requires me to retreat to my room. Then I spend hours pacing, listening to sounds from out in the halls, anxious and impatient and thinking that should any spirits see fit to get in my way tonight, I will be most displeased.
My exhaustion gets the better of me for a time, and I fall asleep until sometime in the middle of the night. Thankfully, it’s a light sleep, and footsteps in the hall cause me to startle awake and suck in a sharp breath. After throwing on a robe, I creep silently down the hall. Inside the trinket box is a familiar amber bottle of laudanum. Thank the heavens.
I make quick work of going upstairs to William’s room. My breath is held for a few seconds as I ease the door shut and get a candle lit, until William slowly opens his eyes and turns his head towards me. Tired and distant, but alive, and that’s the important part.
“It’s just me.” I move to his bedside, extending a hand to check for fever—which has yet to break. “How are you feeling?”
He leans into my hand, likely because my fingers are chilled. “I’m just fine,” he mumbles.
“You’re still very warm.” I rise to my feet to fetch him a cold, wet cloth. “Were you able to get any sleep?”
“I alternate between not being able to sleep at all and not being able to keep my eyes open,” he admits.
Once I’ve soaked a cloth in the cold, fresh water from his wash bowl, I return to sit beside him and begin to cleanse his face and neck. “I think I know what will help.”
His eyes have drifted shut again and he only makes an inquiring sound.
“Your medicine. Before you protest, I don’t mean going back on it entirely. I’ve been looking into it, and physicians suggest a slow withdrawal process from opium-based products. We need to wean you off of it.” I don’t mention the physician in question is Virgil and his father; I doubt that would instil confidence. The sharp look of betrayal he casts my way is unsurprising but makes me flinch inwardly all the same. “Please trust me, William. We will get you through this, just in a safer way. I’ll be right here with you, to make certain you only take what you need.”
His mouth turns down and he tips his head away from me, embarrassment edging into his features. “If you think it’s a good idea.”
Oh, what a relief. I pluck the bottle from my pocket and remove the cork. “Thank you for humouring me.”
William makes a soft noise, and the sound of the uncorking catches his attention. I give him only a meagre few drops, as recommended on the bottle. It also suggests mixing it with something to improve the taste, but I’ve yet to see William do such a thing. Probably too inconvenient to manage when he’s been sneaking it around school.
The effects will not be immediate, I know. William lays back, and I suppose he must not be too cross with me because he shifts closer to lay his head in my lap with a tired sigh. I set the bottle aside, making note not to leave it in here unsupervised, and run my hands through his hair to push it back from his feverish face. “My poor sweetheart. Hopefully you’ll be feeling better soon.”
For a while, not terribly far off from an hour, William only lies there silently. I almost think he’s fallen asleep except for, eventually, he murmurs, “What an utter failure I am.” His voice has that familiar, slightly blurred quality to it, so I imagine the laudanum has begun to kick in.
A frown tugs at my face. “What’s that supposed to mean?”
“I did this in order not to burden you further, yet here you are tending to me.” He sighs. “It was like this last time, too.”
I resume stroking his hair. “Last time? Did you try to quit before?”
He rolls onto his side and presses his face against my stomach. “Tried. Simmons insisted I couldn’t do it. He was right.”
That’s a bit of a surprise. “Simmons?”
“Mm. He was my prefect, remember? He caught me retrieving it from the drop-off location one night. Threatened to report me to the headmaster, of course, unless I did what he asked. I attempted to quit.”
Every single instance I’ve witnessed of Charles Simmons lording over William, crowding into his personal space and making him uncomfortable, comes to mind. The stirrings of anger begin to bubble inside me. “What happened then?”
William opens his mouth, inhales slowly. “…Nothing. Nevermind.”
My brows furrow with worry. “No, no, don’t do that. No more secrets, remember?” Which is highly unfair, I suppose; it’s not like I was forthcoming with my own secrets until I had to be.
He hesitates. “I did favours for him, and he kept my secret. So when I attempted to quit, he was displeased.”
“Favours such as cleaning his room?” I watch him with a sinking sensation in the pit of my stomach. My conversation with Charles the night he caught me outside replays in my head. The things he insinuated then…
He does not look at me. “You know better.”
“William…”
“Please don’t make me say it. It’s not something I’m proud of.”
My chest hurts. I don’t need him to say it, no. I know precisely what kind of favours a piece of filth like Charles Simmons might demand to blackmail someone, and for as much as I want to hear the details so that I know precisely what I’m going to murder him for later, I also know that to force William to share them would be cruel. God, my blood is boiling. I want to march up to his room right this instant and cave his face in.
I resist the urge because right here, right now, William needs me. I want to reassure him that I think no less of him, that it was not his fault. If he had tried to quit, someone should have been there to help, not to discourage him and take advantage.
“Come here.” I coax him into sitting up so that I can gather him into my arms. William comes to me easily and without protest, tucking his face against the curve of my neck.
“I’m so sorry,” he mumbles. “I meant to tell you. I just…”
“I know. You owe me no apologies, all right? You’ve nothing to be sorry for.”
William’s lashes lower. His eyes are glazed, and I think this conversation would be going very differently were he not medicated, and perhaps, just this once, it’s a good thing, because it makes him more honest. “It’s really all right? I’m still good?”
I really am going to kill Charles. With my bare hands, and with great pleasure.
I take his face between my palms and press my mouth gently to his. “You are absolutely perfect. I adore you more than I could ever say.”
He sighs warmly against my lips, and I think it has been some time since he has seemed so at ease, despite the heavy conversation. “It hasn’t happened, you know. Since you and I. I made certain of that.” Which might explain why Charles has been particularly obnoxious in the past many weeks. Even if something had happened, I’m not certain my feelings on the matter would be any different.
My thumbs glide across his cheekbones. “I’m going to snap his neck, you know.”
“No, you won’t. You’d be arrested, and then I would be all alone.”
“I would have to make certain no one knows it’s me.”
He whimpers softly when I kiss him again. “Instead, perhaps you could just sleep here with me tonight.”
“Of course you’d ask me the one thing I cannot resist.” Given everything, it’s a dangerous situation to place ourselves in, but I can hardly tell him no when he specifically requests to have me near. Besides, how many dangerous situations has he stepped into on my behalf?
I shift away from him only long enough to slide out of my robe, snuff out the candle, and return to his side, where he’s laid down and waiting for me. I curl myself around him protectively.
“There will come a day where we can sleep all night like this without fear of being discovered,” he says.
The mere thought of it brings a smile to my face. I kiss the side of his neck. “Such sweet promises, dear William. I’ll hold you to that.”
I know that I shouldn’t make the journey into the tunnels alone. If William knew I had even begun to entertain the idea, he’d strangle me with his bare hands. I should wait until he’s feeling better.
Yet, his recovery is slow. He seems to be feeling more like himself with each passing day, but he’s still some way off from being able to run around and deal with ghosts. As much as he’s ever ready to deal with ghosts, anyway. Without a doctor and more knowledge of the subject, who knows who long it will be? I feel I’ve waited so long already, spent so much time going in circles with no progress, and now to finally have something of substance that might lead me closer to finding out the truth of this school…
Ultimately, though, it comes back to William. I cannot rid myself of the image of that ghost atop me that one night, suffocating me. They’re able to physically harm us, although I haven’t the foggiest idea why they would want to or if that was even its intention, and thus I’m afraid for William. Putting myself in danger is one thing, but if harm were to come to William because of my pursuits, I would never be able to live with myself.
Mind made up, I head out one evening after checking on William and ensuring he’s settled into bed for the night. Once he’s sleeping soundly, I slip out the door, closing it quietly behind m
e. Ordinarily this would be the part where I go back to my own room, but not this time.
Deep breaths, James.
This is going to be very different than my normal night-time explorations, sneaking back and forth between our two rooms. For one thing, I’m alone. For another, I’ll be venturing out of the dorms, and the last time I did it—following that spirit through the woods—it was a rather frightening endeavour. If I get caught by someone, it likely won’t end as nicely as Virgil giving me a disapproving look and sending me to bed or being made to spend the night standing out in the hall.
I keep as quiet and careful as I can. I have a candlestick with me, but don’t light it just yet, hoping I’ll be able to go unnoticed by anyone who might be out and about.
I’ve almost made it out of the dorms when footsteps put me on alert. Clamping a hand over my mouth, I flatten myself back against the wall. It isn’t Virgil or Augustus; it’s far too late for them to be doing a check. They need to sleep, too. Who would be out this late, if not a ghost?
Charles Simmons steps into view.
What is he doing? I’m certain he’ll see me if he just turns his head a little further to the left, but he seems to have something on his mind, because he marches down the hall, towards the dorm exit. I wonder where he’s getting to this late, but honestly, if it doesn’t involve William, then Charles can throw himself off a bloody cliff for all I care.
After I’ve heard the front door open and shut, I wait a few minutes longer to ensure the coast is clear. Even when I follow him, ducking outside, I expect to spot him, but he’s nowhere to be seen. Doesn’t bode well, and it might be smarter to give up for tonight knowing he’s wandering about.
No, I’ll not allow the threat of him to derail my plans.
Not wanting to waste any more time, I head straight for the school. Having studied the map intensively, I believe I’m looking for an old storage room of sorts, a room that no one would think to bother with.
The school is immensely unsettling in the dark, more so now that I’m tackling it alone and don’t have William’s presence to distract me. According to the building map, the lone room that appeared on the old version but not the new is off of the scullery, and thus difficult to access during the day. Even if I stay out too late, I risk encountering one of the early-rising maids or cooks.