A Death in the Asylum (A Euphemia Martins Mystery)

by Caroline Dunford

  This area had been labelled the formal garden. Ahead of me lay two long buildings: one for men and one for women. Behind these, I recalled lay the work buildings, the laundry, the water tower, the refectory and a few other unnamed buildings that doubtless had equally utilitarian purposes.

  The garden was lovely. There were meandering paths that ended in small follies and summerhouses. A maze of low hedges between the flowerbeds gave the illusion of privacy, but would allow an attendant to clearly see any pedestrians. I saw two walkers in the distance approaching a small folly. They had not yet seen me, but it was only a matter of time. There was nowhere for me to hide. I did the only thing I could and walked purposefully forward towards the building I was almost certain housed the women.

  I kept my head up and my eyes forward. I was within 20 steps of the building when a bell rang and two doors in its side opened. Women in white dressed poured out. They were all ages from youthful to those tottering with the support of canes. Some of them were neatly kempt and others had the wild, wind-blown hair that the popular papers associate with the insane. Of course, Dr Frank had said that they believed in healthy exercise for all the inmates. This must be their daily constitution. At least I could be fairly certain none of those present would be violent.

  However, I knew there must be attendants. I would not have long. I started to look around for anyone who could be Alice. I knew Mrs Wilson had worked for the late Lord Stapleford prior to his first marriage. I didn’t know when Sophy had been born, but it seemed logical that any dalliance must have occurred before his marriage in order for him to keep it secret from the rest of the family. Alice was of age with Sophy, so I began to search for any woman who looked slightly older than Richard.

  It was very difficult to tell. I approached one woman and asked gently if she was Alice. Pale blue eyes stared into mine. Tentatively she put out a hand and touched my hair. ‘Is it you, Margaret?’ she asked.

  ‘No, I’m afraid not,’ I said. ‘I’m a friend of Sophy’s. I’m looking for her friend Alice.’

  ‘Sophy’s gone,’ said the woman. ‘They took her away in the night.’

  ‘Who took her?’ I asked, a cold shiver creeping down my back.

  ‘Why, the dead ones,’ said the woman. ‘They come at night and take their own.’ She leaned in closer. Her breath was strangely sickly and sweet ‘They have no faces.’

  ‘Of course,’ I said retreating, but the woman still had hold of my hair. She held hard. ‘Guard your virtue,’ she warned in a low, gravelly voice. ‘You’re a fair one. They all get taken. All of them. I’ve been here since I was a girl and I’ve seen them all go. No safety for the pretty ones. Like my father said, beauty is a curse. You’re cursed. Cursed to hell.’

  The words were uttered without anger. It made them all the more chilling. Gently I disentangled her fingers from my hair and stepped away. As I would with a feral animal I kept my eyes on her until I was clear then turned quickly and walked away without looking back.

  All at once I desperately wanted my father. I wanted him to explain to me why God could be so cruel to cripple minds inside healthy bodies.

  I made my way towards one of the summerhouses. This had been a foolish plan. I should seek out an attendant, explain I had been taken ill and hopefully someone would escort me back to Dr Frank’s office.

  Inside I found an attendant in a blue dress seated on a bench. She looked up as I entered and I saw she had been crying. ‘Can I help?’ I said without thinking.

  ‘Help?’ asked the woman. Her voice was light and clear. ‘I don’t think anyone can help me now.’

  ‘Oh, I’m sure that’s not the case,’ I said sitting down next to her. ‘There is always something to be done.’ I confess that I meant this merely as a platitude. I was hoping to enlist her support to return to the main building without fuss.

  ‘I’m going the same way as Sophy,’ said the attendant. ‘Poor Sophy.’

  ‘Sophy?’ I exclaimed.

  ‘We came up together,’ said the woman. ‘She was a simple soul, but she had a lovely nature. She could do most tasks if it was explained clearly. She trusted everyone. Never any trouble.’

  ‘What happened to her?’ I asked.

  ‘She died.’

  ‘But how?’

  ‘At night. The doctors came into the ward in the morning in gowns and masks and took her away. She looked like she was asleep. They said she had caught something very bad and it had made her die.’

  ‘Caught something very bad?’ I echoed blankly. ‘Couldn’t they be more specific?’

  ‘Possibly, but not to me. Poor Sophy. She and I came here together.’

  ‘You’re Alice?’ I asked. ‘I thought you worked here. You don’t seem …’

  ‘Mad?’ said Alice. ‘I have fits.’ She saw my expression. ‘Shaking fits. I’m not violent or anything like that, but it makes people uncomfortable. And if I’m not with someone I can hurt myself by accident.’

  ‘I see,’ I said looking around for her attendant.

  ‘They don’t bother with me now,’ said Alice. ‘Not since I started having the dreams too.’

  ‘The dreams?’

  ‘They came to Sophy before she died, so I know I’m going to die too.’

  ‘Dreams can’t kill you,’ I said kindly.

  ‘Sophy’s dreams did. She dreamt the masked man came for her every night. He made her drink a medicine and then everything got strange and confused and the world got all whirling and wobbly. I didn’t believe her. I thought she was making it up. She liked to make up stories. But now I have the dreams too.’

  ‘She obviously told you the dreams very clearly and you are remembering them. It’s horrible when someone you care for dies. You think there should have been something you could do for her, but there wasn’t. She got ill and she died. It’s very sad, but it wasn’t the dreams.’

  ‘But I’m the same as her,’ cried Alice placing her hand on her stomach. ‘They haven’t noticed yet, because it’s not very big, but I can see it. I’m getting fat just like Sophy did. She said it felt like things were moving inside her. I don’t want that to happen to me. I don’t want to be killed by something eating my insides.’

  Very gently I reached out and touched Alice’s stomach. There was no mistaking her condition. I felt tears sting my eyes. ‘My dear, you’re not being devoured from within, I promise you. You’re going to have a baby.’

  6 Please see my journal of A Death in the Highlands to learn of Mr Fitzroy’s efficient and ruthless method of dealing with difficult situations.

  Chapter Thirteen

  Adventure at the Asylum

  The ramifications of Alice’s condition shook me to the core. There was only one interpretation that could be placed upon her and Sophy’s dreams. What was clear was that I could not leave her here.

  ‘You need to come with me,’ I said rising. ‘I will help you, but we must go at once.’

  ‘We’re not allowed to leave the gardens until the next bell sounds,’ said Alice.

  Confusion was written all over her face.

  ‘But you’re not safe here!’

  Alice’s face crumpled. ‘I don’t understand. This is my home.’

  Behind her, through the lattice of the summerhouse wall, I saw the unmistakable figure of Mrs Turner. At her side was the larger, now more menacing figure of John.

  ‘Please,’ I begged. ‘You need to come with me.’

  Alice shook her head. Mrs Turner and John were growing closer. I wracked my brains. Why couldn’t Alice understand? She wasn’t insane by her own admission, but as I looked into her frightened eyes I realised that I had underestimated the impact of spending her entire life in an institution. She was as ignorant of the outside world as she was of what was happening to her own body. It struck me now she had not reacted to my announcement that she was having a child. My pronouncement had made no sense to her. She was as naive as a child.

  I took her hand gently. ‘Why don’t we go and see Dr Frank
and let him sort this out?’ I said. ‘You know Dr Frank, don’t you?’

  Her face lit up. ‘Oh yes! He’s always nice to me. He is going to make me well.’

  ‘Come on then,’ I said pulling her to her feet. ‘Let’s go and see him now and he can make everything better. That’s what doctors do, isn’t it?’

  Her hand slid into mine and she smiled happily. All her cares were suddenly vanished. She might not be simple, but her mind clearly worked as trustingly as a child’s. No wonder she and the simple Sophy had been friends. But how was I to get her past Mrs Turner and John? I dismissed ideas of playing hide and seek. She might be childlike, but she wasn’t a child and she was far from incapable of rational thought. I had to get her away without arousing any more fears or suspicions.

  I peered around the edge of the summerhouse door. Mrs Turner was hurrying off up the path away from us. If only I could persuade Alice to walk directly to the entrance to the treatment corridor I was confident I could find my way back to Bertram. I prayed he hadn’t gone to find me. Everything depended on reaching his protection as soon as possible.

  ‘Alice, we’ll have to go quickly,’ I said. ‘You’ll want to be back for when the bell goes to return to your room, won’t you?’

  ‘I go to work in the laundry next.’

  ‘Well, the laundry then,’ I said trying to stay calm and fighting a rising panic. As I watched John at Mrs Turner’s side I wondered if he was the man molesting the women and what he might do to me if he caught me alone out here. Would Mrs Turner help me? How many of the staff were involved in these atrocities? It struck me as likely that the male attendants, who must often be called in to subdue difficult situations, were most likely to be tempted. ‘We’ll have to go directly to Dr Frank. Through that door over there.’

  Alice began to tremble. ‘That’s the treatment row. I don’t need treatment. I haven’t had a fit in weeks. I don’t need it. I don’t need it!’ Her voice rose in panic.

  ‘You won’t have any,’ I promised desperately. ‘It’s the shortest way to Dr Frank.’

  ‘I don’t need treatment,’ repeated Alice, wild eyed.

  ‘You won’t have any,’ I said. ‘You’ll be with me. I’ll look after you.’

  These last four words had a remarkable effect. Alice stopped shaking and looked directly at me. ‘You promise?’

  ‘I promise,’ I said. ‘Come on.’

  I led her quickly across the garden. I did as I had done before and kept my head up and my eyes forward. I walked as if I had every right to be here and every right to lead Alice from this place. It is true that I felt I had a moral right to do as I did and this lent me courage.

  We were almost at the door when I heard John’s voice call out. ‘That’s her!’ I clenched Alice’s hand in a tight grip and plunged through the door. ‘Run!’ I said. ‘Dr Frank only has a few minutes to see us.’

  Alice laughed. ‘This is fun,’ she said.

  I pelted along the corridor. Our passing caused the inmates of the treatment cells to stir again. There were groans and moans the like of which I hope never to hear again. Alice’s laughter was chilling and I wondered if she was as sane as she protested.

  We reached the junction. I spun on the spot, twirling Alice round behind me. She thought this was a great game. Our exit was not hard to spot. It was the only panelled corridor. I set off again, dragging Alice, who was now protesting she felt dizzy. Behind us I heard running footsteps and knew I only had moments to reach the office. Was it the third or the fourth door along? I couldn’t remember.

  I chose at random and burst in on a flabbergasted Bertram and startled Dr Frank, who both shot to their feet. Hard on my heels came Mrs Turner and John. I pulled Alice with me into the centre of the room. I stood there panting, looking round at the unfriendly faces. For a few moments no one said anything. Bertram broke the silence.

  ‘Euphemia, are you feeling better?’ he said.

  ‘This woman is pregnant,’ I said. ‘Tell me how that can happen in your asylum, Dr Frank?’ I turned to face John. ‘Or should I ask you? A male attendant in an institution full of helpless women! What did you give them? A sleeping draught? What evil!’

  ‘She fainted earlier, Dr Frank,’ said Mrs Turner. ‘Hit her head on the floor. She suffered a bad concussion earlier in the week as well.’

  ‘That might explain much,’ said Dr Frank in a professionally calm voice. ‘Come and sit down, Miss St John. Let me have a look at you.’

  ‘Bertram,’ I exclaimed. ‘Don’t you see what is going on here?’

  ‘I’m sure Euphemia has a rational explanation, Dr Frank,’ said Bertram.

  ‘This is Alice, Bertram. Sophy’s friend. She and Sophy had the same dreams. They were being drugged. Then men came to them. She doesn’t understand what happened. She thinks, like Sophy thought, that she is being eaten by something from the inside, but it’s a baby.’

  ‘My dear Miss St John, I assure you that no woman in this institution has ever conceived a child,’ said Dr Frank.

  ‘Except Mrs Hutchins,’ said Mrs Turner, ‘but she is married and on staff.’

  ‘Of course, you must have seen her in the corridor,’ said Dr Frank. ‘It must have set off this delusion. Do sit down. I assure you this sort of thing is not uncommon after a blow to the head. It will pass in time.’

  ‘Perhaps I should fetch something,’ said Mrs Turner.

  ‘I think that would be a good idea,’ said Dr Frank. ‘If you could take Alice back to her room, John.’

  ‘Of course, doctor,’ said John. ‘Come with me please, Alice.’

  ‘No, wait!’ I cried.

  John approached Alice and took her arm. Mrs Turner crossed to a cabinet in the corner and, taking a key from the chain at her waist, unlocked it. ‘A draught, doctor?’

  ‘Something a little swifter, I think,’ said Dr Frank.

  Mrs Turner took out a small bottle and began to fill a syringe. Dr Frank came towards me. I backed away and stumbled into a chair. ‘There,’ he said. ‘Isn’t it better to be sitting down?’

  Bertram still stood. ‘Don’t let him harm me,’ I shouted to him. ‘We must help Alice and her baby.’

  Bertram spread his hands helplessly.

  ‘You can’t let them do this to me!’

  ‘I should never have brought you to London,’ said Bertram. ‘It has been too much.’

  ‘You have to believe me!’ I cried. John was leading Alice from the room. ‘Alice,’ I begged. ‘You have to tell them what happened to you! You have to tell Dr Frank.’

  ‘It’s all right, Alice,’ said Dr Frank. ‘You’re not in any trouble. Our visitor is a little confused. John will take you back to your room. I’ll see you later.’

  ‘Alice, tell them about what is inside you!’ I pleaded.

  ‘Time to go, Alice,’ said John. He began to pull her towards the door. Alice turned back and looked at me. Her face expressed doubt and fear. My attention was all on her and so I didn’t see Mrs Turner until she had my arm in a vice-like grip. ‘Now, stay still, like a good girl,’ she said, ‘and this won’t hurt a bit.’ The syringe hovered above my skin.

  ‘Tell them what happened to Sophy!’ But Alice ignored my pleas and walked placidly towards the door with John. ‘Don’t let her give me treatment!’ I shouted. Every muscle in Alice’s back went rigid. John pulled on her arm. ‘Come on, Alice,’ he urged, but she was immoveable. I jerked my arm away from Mrs Turner. She was leaning over me, so I couldn’t rise.

  ‘I might need a little help, Dr Frank,’ she said.

  Dr Frank placed a hand on Bertram’s shoulder. ‘I realise this is all very unpleasant, but it is for the best. Miss St John isn’t in her right mind. She doesn’t know what is best of her.’

  ‘Bertram, please!’

  ‘You need to be brave, Mr Stapleford. Miss St John needs our help. You must trust me.’

  ‘No,’ I panted, jerking sideways in my chair, as Mrs Turner grabbed for me again. ‘Don’t trust him.’
/>   ‘You are overwrought,’ said Bertram averting his face.

  ‘Alice!’ I shouted. ‘They’re going to give me treatment!’

  I had heard of the strength of the mad, but I had never seen it. My words caused a greater effect than I could have imagined. Alice tore herself from John’s grip, pushing him hard to the ground at the same time. She uttered a harsh cry and threw herself at Mrs Turner. The nurse was knocked to the ground. They went down together, turning over and over, until Mrs Turner plunged the needle into Alice and she went limp.

  Mrs Turner sat up and straightened her dress. ‘I’ll fetch another one, doctor,’ she said in a breathless voice. She rose and went towards the cabinet.

  I flew from my chair. ‘My God! What have you done? The baby!’ I rolled poor lifeless Alice onto her back.

  ‘Now, Euphemia, don’t interfere,’ began Bertram, but his voice trailed off as Alice’s loose clothes now draped around her fallen form clearly outlined a swollen belly.

  ‘She has a tumour,’ said Dr Frank.

  ‘Then shouldn’t she be in a hospital?’ said Bertram.

  ‘It’s terminal,’ said Dr Frank. ‘There is nothing to be done. We have tried to keep it from her.’

  ‘The same terminal condition that took Sophy’s life!’ I exclaimed. ‘A pregnancy that has to be concealed! You know about this! I thought it had to be your staff without your knowledge, but you’re involved!’

  ‘What did Sophy die from?’ asked Bertram.

  ‘A myocardial infarction. A heart attack in layman’s terms. It’s written on her death certificate.’

  ‘Which you doubtless wrote,’ I said. ‘Was it you or John that visited Miss Wilton and helped her to the same condition?’

  ‘The other doctor,’ said Bertram in a voice of horror.

  ‘My dear Mr Stapleford, don’t let this poor deluded young woman convince you of her fantasies. I think perhaps you should leave. Miss St John’s condition is far worse than I originally thought. I think it best she be admitted.’