“My mother was the same way, I think,” Kate said. “She was a fool about my father. She must have known he wouldn’t marry her. I’ll never understand why she continued to hope they would be together even after he married that wretched woman.” She shook her head. “Why do women think they need a man to be happy? Shouldn’t children matter just as much, if not more?”
“Yes. Of course they should,” Elsie said. “But the craving for a man’s attention can be so strong, no matter how shabbily a woman is treated. Why is that? Why do some men have that power?”
“Is it really about the man?” Kate paused to ponder this. “For some, I think it’s more a yearning for escape and independence.”
Elsie frowned. “Really?”
“I thought a lot about this that night I sat by your bed. You know, when you went to Wakeham’s house and … suffered your disappointment.”
“Go on, then,” Elsie said. “Tell me what else you thought that night.”
“Are you certain you’re not too tired? I don’t want Mrs. Thompson annoyed with me.”
“I think I need to hear this, Kate.”
“All right.” Kate tilted her head, considering Elsie carefully. “From the time of your first seizure, I think you’ve felt like a changeling in your family. Your father considers you damaged beyond repair. Your mother is deathly afraid of what you know. I imagine it’s hard for her to even meet your gaze. Am I correct?”
Elsie nodded slowly.
“But men. They notice you, don’t they? You’re beautiful and they long to protect you. To possess you. And you enjoy their attention. When they offer you love, you’re quick to take it because the people who are supposed to love you find you threatening.” Kate glanced at the bottles on Elsie’s desk. “And when that doesn’t work, you take Chlorodyne to blot it all out. You nearly blotted yourself out a few days ago.”
“That was a horrible night.”
“Yes, it was.” Kate took a deep breath before continuing. “And then there’s Asher. He’s obviously smitten with you, but you pretend not to see it. Except when you need him, like that night you invited him to the Fitzwilliam Museum. Did you think I didn’t notice how you looked at him? Why do you string him along only to push him away?”
Elsie’s face crumpled. “I don’t string him along.”
“Well then, why do you fling yourself at inappropriate men and ignore the worthy ones?” Kate pressed. “Asher can be rude at times, but he’s a steady one. He has a good heart.”
“I know he does.” Elsie wiped her face with the handkerchief and sighed. “I’m not an idiot, after all. I like him awfully, but I just don’t have those feelings for him.”
“Maybe he needs to understand that?”
Elsie nodded slowly, withdrawing once more into herself.
Kate retrieved the book and pretended to find her place. She’d been on comfortable ground discussing Elsie’s wayward heart, but once the subject turned to Asher her stomach had soured to the conversation.
A light knock came at the door.
“Yes?” Elsie’s voice seemed to come from far away.
The door opened slowly, and Asher peered through.
“Mrs. Thompson said I’d find you both here. May I come in?”
Asher stood awkwardly in the doorway, unsettled by the distinct impression of having interrupted something.
Kate stood quickly, placing a book on her chair. “I’ve nearly finished a chapter, and I can’t bear another word of Bleak House today. Why don’t you keep Elsie company for a while?” She swept past him before he could reply.
Asher set the book aside and took Kate’s seat. He’d been in Elsie’s bedroom before—on the very first day he met her—but this was the first time he’d been alone with her in this private space. She seemed so small in the bed, dwarfed by the jumble of overstuffed pillows. She was pale, bruised … diminished.
“How are you feeling?” he finally asked.
“Better.”
“I could read to you. Shall I pick up where Kate left off?”
“I’d rather you didn’t.”
A silence fell. Asher leaned back in the chair and crossed his legs. But that felt too casual, so he uncrossed them and sat forward again. “Were the two of you arguing just now?”
“No … not exactly.”
He waited for her to elaborate, but she only seemed to sink deeper into her pillow. Clearly he would have to press on without her assistance.
“I told a whopping lie to Mr. Thompson yesterday,” he said. “Thought you should know, in case he or Mrs. Thompson asked you about it. I told him Kate tried to run away Saturday night, and that I followed her out of concern for her safety. It was the only thing I could think of at the time, but then I realized it gave me an opportunity to explain her plight—her fear of Eliot and all that—and as it turns out your uncle was quite sympathetic.” Asher knew full well he was babbling, but at least it filled the silence. “I’m certain he’ll try to convince her to stay at Summerfield. Perhaps you’ll be able to help him with that?”
“I’ll do my best.” Elsie’s smile was thin.
“So what was going on just now between the two of you?”
“Actually, Kate was lecturing me.”
“Lecturing? I asked her not to push you for details on what happened in the old lab.”
“She never mentioned that. Instead she seemed more concerned with my heart and how I invite men to abuse it.”
Asher cleared his throat. “That wasn’t very kind of her.”
“She meant it in a helpful way, I think. And perhaps I brought it on myself. I did ask her opinion.”
Again he waited in vain for her to elaborate, but the silence thickened instead.
“I won’t be able to stay at Summerfield much longer,” he finally said. “The students will return soon enough, and the Thompsons will need my room.”
“But you can take lodgings in town, can’t you?”
Her tone was even, but his heart leapt a little at the words. “I suppose I could. It would be nice to stay close to you.”
Her eyes dropped to her hands. “Close to me and Kate. And the Thompsons, of course.”
“I once thought I would stay in town to be near you.” His face burned, but the need for clarity compelled him to press further. When would he have another opportunity to speak to her alone? “Is there any way … is there any chance you could feel—”
“No,” she said softly. “I cherish you as a dear friend, but no more than that.”
“Could it be more someday? I mean, once you’ve mourned Simon Wakeham?”
His own words echoed in his head, sounding callow and abrupt. Finally she raised her head and met his gaze. Her eyes held kindness and a trace of pity, but nothing more.
“Asher, you fancy the idea of me more than the reality.”
“I don’t even know what that means.”
“And I don’t know any other way to explain it. We were meant to be friends—good friends—but nothing more.”
“Of course,” he said quickly. “Please forget I said anything.”
“Don’t be angry.”
“I’m not angry.” He tugged at his collar. “It’s just blazing hot in here.”
Mrs. Thompson came through the door at that moment, her hands full of sewing and more books. She set the items on Elsie’s desk and turned to face them. Her searching gaze moved from him to Elsie. “You both look so grim.”
Asher took a deep breath and stood. “I was just leaving.”
Mrs. Thompson tilted her head. “See you at supper?”
“Of course,” he said, making for the door before she could say anything else. He did not look at Elsie.
He dragged himself up the stairs, almost wishing to find Kate in his room again. It was easy enough to imagine her sitting in his chair, rolling her eyes at his stricken face. He would welcome her scorn. He’d suffered a blow to his pride, but the sight of Kate, steady and cynical, would lessen the pain, making it easier
to push aside and forget.
His room was empty, however, so he sprawled on the bed and stared at the ceiling. Once his eyes had traveled every snaking crack in the plaster at least twice, he sat up with a sigh and turned to his desk. The bundle of telegrams still lay there. He stood and reached for it, sitting down on his chair to untie the string that bound the envelopes. After studying the first one for a moment, he tore it open.
THOMPSON WIRED TO INFORM OF YOUR ARRIVAL. WRITE TO MOTHER. SHE GRIEVER.
Asher put that one down and opened the next several, quickly scanning each short message.
I WORRY ABOUT YOU. MOTHER MISSES YOU.
THOMPSON WIRES TO SAY YOU HAVE BECOME PART OF THE FAMILY. THIS INTELLIGENCE RECEIVED WITH MIXED FEELINGS. YOUR TRUE FAMILY LONGS TO HEAR FROM YOU.
ASHER, WITH ALL MY HEART I WISH TO CLOSE THIS RIFT BETWEEN US. I CANNOT IF I DON’T HEAR FROM YOU. CAN WE FORGET WHAT HAS PASSED BETWEEN US AND BE FATHER AND SON AGAIN?
He set the messages down and went to the window, thinking of his father before Letty had come between them. They had been friends once, hadn’t they? He’d thought Harold Beale the best of men and had been proud to call him Father.
When the sun began to shine in his eyes, he closed the curtains and returned to his desk. Retrieving a blank sheet of Summerfield stationery, thoughtfully provided by Mrs. Thompson days ago, he tested his pen on the blotting pad and began to write.
Chapter 41
Elsie woke late the next morning with the feel of Simon Wakeham’s arms around her. Had she dreamed of him? She kept her eyes closed, still feeling his warmth. It was uncanny how close he felt—as though she might reach out and touch him, if she only knew how.
Simon, are you there?
As if in answer, the warmth intensified.
What was she doing? Simon had killed Billy and made a monster of Tec. He may have done it all out of a desperate love; nevertheless, it was madness to allow his spirit to roam through her mind. She betrayed Kate and Asher by even thinking of him.
She tried to blank her thoughts of him, imagining her mind as an unblemished piece of paper. Smooth, white paper—pristine as a meadow blanketed with snow.
The warmth receded … leaving her empty and shivering.
She was alone. And quite possibly insane.
Elsie opened her eyes and glanced about the room. She could bear this unvarying landscape no longer. Surely Aunt Helena was taking caution to an extreme by insisting upon three days of uninterrupted rest. Since those uncomfortable conversations with Kate and Asher, each had avoided her. Time had slowed to a glacial pace, and the long silences roared in her ears. All this soothing repose had left her irritable and more than a little unhinged.
She must tell Asher and Kate the whole truth. Perhaps that was the only thing that would free her of Simon’s spirit. Kate should know that Tec was in the old lab that night. What if he had escaped and was wandering the streets of Cambridge, bloodied and racked with pain, and Elsie did nothing to help him? Kate might know where to find the boy—somewhere along Castle Street, no doubt—and surely if the three of them worked together they might devise some way to heal him. She’d promised to help him, hadn’t she?
She promised him in return for his help in stopping Simon.
Elsie threw back the bedcovers and chose a day dress from her wardrobe. She would leave her room today. Somehow she would fix everything. But first she would pay a visit to her uncle’s study. Something in her possession needed to be returned to its rightful place.
Part of her hoped he wouldn’t be there, that she might slip the key back into the handkerchief and close the specimen cabinet, her uncle never the wiser. But when she saw him at his desk, distractedly chewing his beard as he paged through a textbook, she knew a confession was in order.
He was a dear and patient man, and it pained her that she’d thought ill of him.
At that moment he looked up, his beard falling from his mouth as he smiled. “Elsie? It’s wonderful to see you up and about.”
“May I come in, Uncle?”
He stood quickly, upsetting a stack of books that had perched precariously on the edge of his desk. “Oh dear, I’m afraid it’s the usual chaos in here. Come sit down.” He fluttered his hand toward the chair. “Just push those papers aside. I’ll get it all sorted eventually.”
“First I must return something to you.” Elsie carefully navigated her way toward the desk and withdrew the key from her pocket. “I took this from your specimen cabinet.”
He frowned. After an awkward pause, he reached for the key. “But why?”
“You seemed so angry that day Kate and I were poking about the old lab, almost as though you kept something secret in there. My curiosity got the better of me.”
“How very Gothic of you.” He studied the key thoughtfully. “Is that why you were in the old lab? You were investigating?”
“I suppose you could say that,” Elsie said, her voice cracking slightly. “I’ve no right to ask you this, but please don’t tell Aunt Helena. It was wrong of me, and I’m sorry.”
He held her gaze. “Well, what did you find? Is there something you haven’t told me, Elsie?”
His eyes were kind. So kind that she wished she could tell him everything. What a relief it would be to lift this burden from her own shoulders and pass it to someone wiser and more capable.
But she couldn’t bring herself to do it.
“I’m afraid I still don’t remember.”
He smiled. “Your injury. Of course. It may take a while to recover those memories, if you recover them at all.” He looked away. “I don’t know what to tell you about the lab. This key is the gardener’s, as I said before. I can’t think what happened to mine. I may be untidy, but I never lose things.”
“Do you think it was stolen?”
“I’ve wondered that.” He looked thoughtful for a moment. “But the simple truth behind my anger that day outside the lab was that you and Kate were behaving in an alarming manner. How would you expect me to react when I saw the two of you? Not only was she breaking a windowpane, but you had propped her up in the most precarious way. And what happened? You both fell, of course. I wasn’t just angry—I was afraid!”
Elsie blushed to remember it. “Of course, Uncle. I understand.”
“I’ve been distressed since that first body was found on the Corpus College cricket grounds. The poor boy was found shortly thereafter. Did you know that the police came to Summerfield to question me about it?” He stood and moved to the specimen box, retrieving a familiar handkerchief-wrapped item. “They came because of this. You must have seen it, too, since this was the drawer that held the key. The police found my name inscribed inside, and they thought I might have some connection to the boy.” He pulled the watch from the handkerchief and clicked it open. “Has Kate told you she is the daughter of Frederic Stanton?”
Elsie nodded.
“I couldn’t imagine why a child of the streets would have the watch I gave him so long ago. Stanton was a dear friend of mine. A pupil first, and then a colleague.”
“Was he a good man?”
Her uncle raised an eyebrow. “That’s a curious question.”
“It’s just … Kate has become a friend, and I know she wonders about him. She didn’t even know he’d died until recently.”
His face softened. “I’m afraid I was very vague about him the first day I met her. Frederic was always a moody sort, never satisfied. He had many gifts, and he could have done so much good in this world, but he always grasped for things just out of his reach. Apparently he kept many secrets—having an illegitimate daughter was just the tip of the iceberg, I fear. Still, he would have been devastated to learn how she’s survived the years since his death.”
“I think she’s lost everyone she ever loved.” Tears stung Elsie’s eyes as she stared at the watch. “I must remember that when she’s being tiresome.”
“She’s certainly dealt with more than her fair share of misfortune.”
He shrugged. “I’ve told the police all I know, but I’m certain it won’t help them any. They showed little interest in the stolen key, and they’ve devoted little time to searching the remains of the building. Clearly someone has been making use of it, but I can’t imagine for what. Shelter, perhaps?” He tugged at his beard in obvious irritation. “Was there an accident with the equipment, then? Or was this arson?”
Poor man, thought Elsie. But she couldn’t tell him. Not until she’d spoken with Kate and Asher.
“I don’t remember … not yet, anyway,” she said aloud.
“Of course. I do apologize.” Her uncle shut the watch with a sigh. “Would you do something for me, Elsie? Would you give this to Kate? It will mean a great deal more to her than to me.” He placed the watch in her outstretched hand.
She slid the watch in her pocket and smoothed her skirt. “I’m wondering whether you will send me back to Peverel Place now.”
Her uncle frowned again. “Why would you ask that?”
“I fear I’m a burden to you—there’s been no end of trouble since I arrived.”
He waved a hand. “On the contrary, Helena and I welcome you to stay here for as long as you like. You know it is our wish that you might one day study here at Summerfield.”
“Oh dear,” Elsie gasped. “I’m not nearly clever enough for that.”
“You are clever, Elsie. The Chlorodyne may have dulled your senses, and it most certainly has compromised your confidence.” His eyes softened. “But you have a fine brain, my dear. Any brain needs using, however—the more you exercise it, the stronger it grows. How fortuitous that we live in a city teeming with excellent tutors!”
Elsie opened her mouth to protest, but her uncle held up a hand.
“Perhaps we might prevail upon Kate to join you in this tutoring. What do you think? I’ve racked my brain trying to think of ways to keep her at Summerfield without injuring her pride.”
The Dark Between Page 28
