The Bride of Blackbeard

by Brynn Chapman

  The room was filled with a blend of whispering and lullabies at a pitch that made Megan’s ears sting in pain. Covering her ears, she shook her head back and forth, losing touch with reality for a moment. This happened to her when her world became too loud or too bright or too much of anything.

  I cannot stand the noise. It hurts my ears. It hurts too much.

  She fought the urge to leave and crawl inside herself, but she knew if she did, they would find her and things would be much worse.

  She willed her legs to move, but they stayed rooted to the spot. Her mind was too focused on blocking out the sounds for her to move her legs.

  “Stop it!” she finally yelled and all the old eyes instantly turned to her.

  The sounds ceased and, as if by magic, her legs were freed. She fled as one woman reached for her, but missed.

  They are near. If they find me, it is back into the water or worse. The barking dogs were so close she could hear them sniffing.

  She reached a room that had a strange rope arrangement across it that reminded her of a spider web. Small enough, she easily slid under one of the gaps in the ropes.

  The people in this room wandered. A man walked in circles over and over again, never stepping off his unseen path.

  A young woman opened and closed, opened and closed a door.

  A young man sat and hummed to himself as he continually watched a music box spin.

  She hid behind one of the rockers, and held her breath.

  ~ * ~

  “Where could she be? We have searched every one of the floors, four times over.”

  “Heads will roll if she is not found! Continue the search!”

  Two men in white jackets peered into the repetition room, the candles they held making their faces look scary.

  Megan sat as still as one of the statue people until their lights faded to darkness.

  She lay down on her side in the room and curled into a ball. Somehow she wasn’t frightened in here. She didn’t believe these people would even notice her.

  Megan waited for what seemed like hours. Sneaking out of the repetition room, she headed up the staircase to the next floor. The dumbwaiter had carried her almost to the basement level of the Blackhouse.

  This floor was decidedly colder, and she saw no one. Most of the rooms she passed were empty. In a few, older people were lying in beds—they appeared to be sleeping.

  At the end of the hallway, she saw a door that had a rope net over it to keep the occupant inside. Looking up, she saw at the very top of the door, a small space between the net and the ceiling. Inside the room a woman sat rocking, softly humming a haunting tune. Her room was different from the others. Pictures hung all over her walls, and she even had a beautiful polished tea set.

  Stomach rumbling, Megan looked hungrily at the tea tray. They hadn’t let her eat anything for two days. Since the forced vomiting, her stomach made noise almost continually. In the silence, the sound was truly loud.

  The woman must have heard for she turned and looked at Megan. Smiling, the woman beckoned to her.

  Megan realized she remembered this woman from the last time she’d been here, only then the lady had eaten with everyone else. She’d given Megan part of her food and held her on her lap. The only five minutes of her last visit that she’d felt safe had been in this woman’s arms.

  “Sadie! Oh Sadie! I was wondering where you had gotten to! Come in. Why, I have cookies you can have.”

  Megan looked the rope net up and down and then at the cookies by the tea. With ease, she climbed the ropes and reached the space between ceiling and door. She contorted her torso until she was parallel with the ground and squeezed her way in. Throwing her legs over, she came down the other side, and landed with a thud at the woman’s feet.

  Happily clapping, the woman opened her arms.

  Megan crawled over, let the woman squeeze her, and tried not to sob.

  “Come sit, darling, you must be starving!”

  She tried to chew, cry and nod as she crammed cookies into her mouth

  “Sadie! Is that the manners I taught you?”

  Voices could be heard and footsteps clomping along the hallways.

  “Check in Sonata’s room.”

  “How could she get in there?”

  Megan shook her head back and forth.

  The old woman looked at her and toward the sound of the voices “You must hide. They are coming for you.”

  She walked toward her open window, which was slightly cracked and tried to heave it up. Unable to raise it higher, Megan rushed to her side to help. It only budged a few inches more, but it was enough for Megan to slide her body out onto the ledge.

  The voices were now inside Sonata’s room. Megan began to inch along the ledge.

  “She is outside on the sill! If she is killed, heads will roll. Her family is wealthy.”

  “Don’t you touch Sadie!” Megan heard the kind woman shout over the noise of voices.

  In the courtyard, many patients out for their daily exercise in the fenced courtyard stopped to stare up at her. They looked as if they had been frozen in time.

  She struggled to crawl up the sloping roof, to an open window where she could get back into the Blackhouse.

  A man at the window looked into her eyes and smiled. No kindness was in his smile, something closer to madness. On all fours he came out the window and slowly scaled the roof toward Megan. His feet slipped and he grabbed at the roof, searching for a hold. Fearful, Megan stood still. Then he suddenly leapt toward her, hands flailing wildly in the air in an attempt to grab her.

  She dodged and his lunge was rewarded with a fistful of her shift.

  The man tottered in place and lost his footing. His body aimed for the ground as he hurdled down the roof, pulling her with him. She screamed along with Sonata who was screaming from inside.

  “Let me go!” she finally managed to get out. His face registered shock and amazement to hear her speak. He let her go seconds before he lost contact with the roof and began his free fall.

  A sickening thud echoed below.

  Megan buried her face in her hands and crawled back to the place in her mind from whence she’d come.

  ~ * ~

  “How is it, pray tell, that a child the age of five is able to outsmart fifteen orderlies, and sends one plummeting to his death?” Dr. Vorhath spoke through clenched teeth as he pounded his fist against the massive table.

  “Sir, the child is intelligent—capable of reasoning and problem solving.”

  “Nonsense! She is little more than an animal, with no feeling or awareness of anything except her most primitive instincts.”

  “We have her in solitary confinement, sir.”

  “And there she will stay ‘til I decide what else should be done to improve her mind.”

  ~ * ~

  Megan rocked in the dark.

  She opened her eyes, closed her eyes, but it all looked the same. She began to crawl on her hands and knees around the floor, tracing the room’s outline.

  Where am I? What have they done with the light? Where are Ma and Pa? Why have they not come for me?

  She wrapped her arms around herself and thought again of home. Of the fireplace and the rocking chair and of Mother—the way her hair smelled when she held her close.

  More tears leaked out and she lay on her side, begging for sleep to come.

  Click.

  She yelped and covered her eyes to the slit of light that suddenly appeared in the room. Her eyes, normally sensitive to light, were beyond painful. She’d been without proper food or light for three days now.

  The sound of an old woman’s shaky voice. “Sadie, is that you?”

  Megan scrambled to her feet. She had no idea what to call this woman. She? “Yes, it is me.”

  “Hurry before they come!” ‘she’ said.

  They joined hands and trotted down the hallway toward the stairs as fast as the old woman could manage.

  Footsteps...coming.


  ‘She’ pulled Megan into a broom closet, holding her hand over Megan’s mouth. They held their breath until the footsteps passed. Leaving the small room, ‘she’ led her down a spiral staircase to a dirt floored cellar. Huge fires burned here and everything from brooms to empty beds littered the large room.

  “You stay here. I will bring you food. If anyone comes, you hide? Do you understand me?”

  Megan nodded. She was alone in the dark again, but at least this time she was free.

  ~ * ~

  “How is it that she has escaped again? How has a child let herself out of solitary confinement, when there are only three keys?”

  “The key from the nurse’s area is missing.”

  “I see. Search Sonata Messing’s room and I believe you will find it.”

  ~ * ~

  The alarm sounded so loud, even in the basement, she plugged her ears as tightly as she could. Even muffling the hurt, it cut into her head and was painful. She dropped to her knees, for she knew that sound meant something bad.

  Unable to prevent herself, she darted around the cellar without direction or reasoning. Run, get home...the words shouted in her head. Slowing, she paced back and forth on the dirt floor like a caged animal, holding her ears in case of another offensive outburst of noise.

  “Sadie, where are you?” The old woman’s whispery voice came from the stairs. “Come with me, child.”

  It was Megan’s turn to lead as they exited the door in the kitchen, and onto the grounds. She tried to run and pull ‘she’ with her, but ‘she’ was old and moved slowly. They ran across the grounds, keeping to the fence as best they could, ‘she’ running her hand along it the whole time.

  Stopping short, ‘she’ pulled on Megan’s hand. “Here!” ‘she’ said and pushed on a loose board that moved aside.

  Megan slipped through the fence by turning sideways. The thin, frail, old woman was able to fit through the opening, too.

  The forest seemed to sigh as the wind whipped through the boughs—twisted tree trunks and bogs surrounded the Blackhouse. Cypress trees reminded her of spider webs as she flew past them in the dark. Although scary, the forest was not as frightening as the dark solitary room she’d left behind.

  About five minutes after entering the woods, they heard the barking. Dogs! From the sound of them, they were quickly gaining.

  “Wolves,” said ‘she.’ “Run!”

  The sound of water drew their attention. “There is a river over the hill,” ‘she’ said, pulling Megan in that direction.

  Now visible torches bounced up and down through the woods.

  The first of the dogs reached Megan, wrapped its teeth around her leg and brought her to the ground. ‘She’ picked up a tree branch and whacked furiously at the dog's snout as well as her feeble arms could manage. A second bounded into the clearing, its teeth tearing the old woman's flesh like parchment paper.

  A third arrived, snarling and snapping at her now prone form on the ground. Feebly ‘she’ swung her arms to knock it off while blood sprayed from her cut arm.

  “Climb the tree, Sadie!”

  Megan scrambled to climb, but the dog’s jaws bit into her shift, ripping it off. It latched onto her leg and pulled her to the muddy ground.

  “Place her into the baths!” she heard a voice bellow from the trees.

  ~ Chapter Eleven ~

  Lucian reined the carriage into the circle in front of StoneWater. He jumped down and held up his hand to help Stanzy out. After the toiling end to their Nags Head trip, and the last four days at Hawthorne House with Katrina, she was exhausted.

  No matter how often Katrina said she was adjusting to her new post, Constanza had seen she wasn’t. Why else seek a way out of her governess role by marrying someone she didn’t love? The entire trip back, Stanzy fretted over her sister’s lack of good sense and she felt relieved to be back at StoneWater.

  “It doesn’t seem so long ago that you helped me down out of a carriage when I’d first arrived here. I knew then you wanted me.”

  Lucian’s brow lifted. “Is that so? Just how did you know?”

  “Your hand held mine too long, and you brushed my palm with your thumb.”

  “Well, come here. I no longer have to keep my thumbs to myself.” He reached to pull her to him.

  “Miss Constanza! Lucian! Oh, thank heaven ya’ll are back. Come inside now. We must talk.” Bess’ frame was leaning out the downstairs window, her face pinched in distress.

  They rushed into the kitchen and sat at the table, looking at her expectantly.

  “It is Megan. They took her the night you left. A doctor came and fetched her and carted her off to the asylum.”

  Never having swooned in her life, Stanzy felt her vision go to a pinprick and the kitchen disappeared as she fought against the spell.

  Lucian’s arm held her waist tightly. “Constanza. Open your eyes.”

  She pressed her palms against her forehead. “Where are Ian and Sarah, and where have they taken Megan?”

  “He is upstairs in his study. Her royalness has headed back to Bath. They had Megan taken to a place called St. Augustus Lunatic Asylum.”

  Stanzy and Lucian ran up the stairs and burst into Hopkins’ study.

  “How could you, Ian?” Lucian accused. “You are a gutless maggot. She is your daughter! I do not care if you get rid of me. This farm will go to the debtors if I go and you know it. You gave in to Sarah, didn’t you?”

  Ian ran a hand down his face, which looked more lined than ever. “We felt it best for Megan.”

  “We?” queried Stanzy. “Don’t you mean Sarah felt it best for her? Do you have any idea what they do to people in asylums, Ian? Well I do! I used to visit them with my father in England, and I will not rest one moment ‘til I have Megan back here and out of harm’s way! The bleeding is nothing, compared to procedures they may try on her—her with no voice and no way to protect herself against them!”

  “Maybe I have been too hasty,” Hopkins admitted.

  “We are going Ian—now—to get her.” She turned to Hopkins. “If you do not want to come, you need to write a letter for us, releasing her into our care.”

  “Yes, that would probably be best, so I can handle Sarah’s wrath when she returns.”

  ~ * ~

  After the his governess and Lucian departed from his study, Hopkins retrieved a letter from the desk drawer and read a portion of it once again. He stood and crossed the room to bolt the door.

  “Keep Blackwell busy at the ports for whatever reason you can concoct. I have plans that you best not interfere with. Should you choose not to heed my request, I know the lawmen would be very interested in knowing all about your ‘special storehouses.’ I will be along shortly to discuss this at length…”

  ~ * ~

  As Stanzy lifted herself up beside Lucian on the carriage seat, he said, “What do they do at the asylum?”

  She stared straight ahead and said nothing. Some sights were too horrendous to be uttered out loud.

  He slapped the reins on the horses to hurry them along.

  ~ * ~

  Megan couldn’t stop screaming. After wailing for going on half an hour, a smelly rag was draped over her face. Thrashing against it, her arms soon felt heavy and weak. But she still heard their voices—right up to the point when she surrendered to the peaceful silence inside her mind.

  “What is your assessment, Dr. Valleter? Do you think she is possessed?”

  “No. The idea is becoming increasingly a superstition in my mind. She is ill, to be sure. The latest treatment plans convey a need for a shock to the system to restore balance. Similar to the bloodletting, and you have seen our deep submersion baths I assume?”

  “Yes, sir, very impressive.”

  “We will begin with those and see how she progresses. She may be a candidate for some of our more novel ideas as I believe she is likely to become a resident here, and not for a short-term stay. Reconvene upon the implementation of those treatments so we may pl
an her next course of treatment.”

  ~ * ~

  The river was icy cold, just like she remembered the morning she snuck outside and fell in—Pa had pulled her from the water. It was even colder this morning. At any moment Pa would reach in and pull her out and her body would stop shaking. Her teeth chattered—hard. A wretched taste filled her mouth as she bit her tongue. Slowly opening her eyes a slit, she saw ten pairs of eyes regarding her. Large chunks of ice floated around her in the tub. Her skin burned when the hunks grazed her as they floated past.

  No.

  The Blackhouse—she was still here. She began to cry again, feebly, for she had no strength left. She felt the hoarse sound in her chest when she wailed.

  When the darkness crawled into her mind to claim her, she cried out, “Pa, please.”

  “She spoke,” she heard a female voice say. “Get her out of the tank!”

  That night, Megan thrashed fitfully on her bed—it was too cold to sleep. She opened her eyes and immediately shut them again as ‘the men’ were in the room. If they knew she was awake, they may try to do something else to her.

  “Dr. Valleter, what is your diagnosis, melancholy or mania?”

  “Most decidedly melancholy. How did the treatments progress?”

  “It was reported by the staff that while in the baths, she spoke. It is the first time she has uttered a word during any of her admissions.”

  “Good, she is making progress then. Today, we shall try forced emesis, and see what improvement we attain. Her chart says she was not particularly fond of the bleeding procedure.”

  Megan rolled over and squeezed her eyes tightly shut as she thought of home, and Ma and Pa, and her soft doll, which she wished she had right now, more than ever. Her breath rattled in and out of her mouth and a deep ache formed in her chest.

  Why couldn’t she talk? She knew what she wanted to say, could even hear the words in her head, except sometimes they came out wrong, or didn’t come out at all when she tried to speak them.

  Ma was going to fix her though, she knew it. Mother was able to make her feel and think like she never had before.