Sweet Asylum

by Tracy L. Ward

  Ainsley sat in the grass next to Margaret, who leaned into him. He’d suspected she was nodding off, finally able to rest after hours of demanding work. He too felt the lure of bed and rest. Julia had settled in behind them, close enough that Ainsley could reach a hand below her skirt to rest his palm on her bare ankle. In the failing light he saw her smile.

  “My throat hurts,” Margaret croaked, half asleep.

  “That’s from the smoke,” Ainsley explained. “I’ll contact the chemist in town in the morning. I’m sure we will all need something.” He stole a glance to Julia, who looked equally as tired as Margaret but who was forcing herself to remain awake. “You should lie down, Julia,” Ainsley suggested. “We’ll rally the carriage soon.”

  She took his advice and settled in, using her arm to cradle her head in the grass.

  Ainsley pulled his hand away from the maid’s leg just before Nathaniel came into view. Aunt Louisa trailed behind him. A full complement of servants from The Briar followed behind her, each carrying an overflowing basket of food or bottles of drink.

  “Here they are, Mother,” Nathaniel said.

  “Oh my word!” Aunt Louisa’s exasperated voice caused Margaret to stir. Ainsley could not help but groan. If anyone deserved to rest it was these two women lying beside him. “I’ve brought sandwiches,” Aunt Louisa said, “and some cordial. I threw in a few bottles of honey wine,” she continued as if apologizing, “to keep spirits up.”

  “That is so kind,” Margaret answered dreamily. “Garret and Samuel need something to eat…” Margaret pulled herself up and looked around the yard. The moonlight gave depth to little. It was the handheld lanterns that signalled the positions of those who lingered. “I shall find them,” Margaret said, moving as if to stand.

  “No,” Ainsley answered quickly. “You and Julia rest.” Ainsley came to his feet and pulled the basket from his aunt. “Can you take them home?” he asked. “I just want to make sure there is no longer a need for a doctor.”

  “Can’t Dr. Davies see to that?” Aunt Louisa asked, following him for a few steps as he walked away. Her tone was sharp, annoyed.

  Ainsley smiled at her naivety. “I have treated nearly ten men with burns to their faces and limbs. Dr. Davies has at least matched me wound for wound. Can you expect me to desert him at such an hour?” Ainsley gave her a look of challenge. “What could be so pressing at The Briar at this hour? Save your self-centred commands for your husband or servant, for I am neither.”

  He left her, slack-jawed and speechless, and slipped into the darkness to distribute the provisions.

  Ainsley found Garret at the site where the barn once stood. No lantern signalled his position, just a form made three-dimensional by the full moon and remaining embers of the fire. Ainsley heard a sniffle as he approached and saw Garret raise his hand to his face.

  “My aunt brought bread and cheese,” Ainsley said, offering Garret some.

  “Thank you.” Garret’s words were almost given as a laugh.

  “I also have wine,” Ainsley said with greater enthusiasm. He removed the cork and offered it to Garret. “You need it more than most.”

  Garret took the bottle reluctantly. “I should find my father,” he said. “He’ll be needing some by now.”

  The two men stood surveying the site while taking turns at the bottle. Lanterns bobbed in the darkness all around them. A carriage rolled by, two lanterns lighted on either side, signalling their direction of travel. Ainsley hoped it was his sister and Julia heading back home.

  Garret handed the bottle back to Ainsley, who found it empty. “I guess your father will have to wait,” he said with a laugh.

  “I guess so.”

  “Do you know what started it all?” Ainsley ventured to ask.

  “I was in the lower field.” Garret gestured in the direction of the road. “I didn’t notice anything was wrong until I saw the smoke.” Garret hesitated slightly. “Townsfolk were here within minutes and for a time I thought we had it under control, but the flames caught something and took off without warning. Thank you for helping me release the horses from the south barn.”

  “Any horses unaccounted for?” Ainsley asked.

  “I’ll know better in the morning but for now I am down eight head.”

  Ainsley let out a whistle of surprise.

  “A barn can be rebuilt,” Garret said, “but those thoroughbreds signify twenty years of breeding. It will take us many more than that to fully recover.”

  “Surely it’s not as bad as all that,” Ainsley said.

  “And more,” Garret answered.

  “But the crops?”

  “The crops are for my brother Samuel,” Garret said. “The horses are our bread and butter. If we can’t race, we stand to lose everything.”

  They were invested greatly. The fire represented an even greater loss than Ainsley first realized.

  “Garret, if there’s anything—”

  “Come quick!” a voiced yelled from the darkness at the edge of the woods. Suddenly, a lantern appeared and began waving back and forth, signalling their whereabouts. “I found a body!”

  Ainsley arrived first and was led to an area of tall grass where the body of a man lay. Half his face and one arm was severely burned, showing hints of bone beneath layers of charred flesh. The man who had made the discovery held his light over the body so Ainsley could see. He was clearly dead.

  As Ainsley knelt down, Garret arrived at the scene and Jonas soon after. Garret was so worn out Ainsley thought it a miracle the man remained upright.

  Ainsley brushed away some blades of grass that had fallen over the dead man’s face.

  “Father?” Garret pushed past Ainsley and fell to his knees. “Father!” Garret placed a hand on either side of the old man’s face and began pulling him up from the ground. “No,” Garret yelled. “No!” He gritted his teeth and growled before letting out a visceral scream.

  Garret eventually laid his father’s body down onto the grass, sobbing uncontrollably as he did so. “Take him to the house,” Ainsley commanded one of the other men who’d arrived at the scene. Ainsley and Jonas helped Garret to his feet.

  “I cannot leave my father like this,” Garret said to Ainsley.

  “I will see to your father,” he said, reassuringly. “Someone must go tell Samuel and Ivy.”

  Garret nodded, easily accepting his duty.

  As the weeping man left, Ainsley took Jonas’s lantern and traced the outline of the body. The old man lay perfectly on his back. He looked to the man who’d raised the alarm. “How did he lie when you found him?”

  The man nodded toward the body. “Like this.”

  “You did not move him?”

  “No, sir.”

  “You dragged him through the grass, did you not?” Ainsley pressed, moving to the dead man’s feet and shining a light on the trampled grass that was bent over under the weight of the body.

  “Absolutely not,” the man answered. “I found him like this. I did not drag him from anywhere.”

  Ainsley huffed as he looked over the scene. “Well, someone did.” A clear line of broken blades of grass could be seen from the back of the barn. Ainsley turned to the crowd that had gathered, circling around them in the dark.

  “Did anyone drag this man from the barn?” Ainsley asked, raising his lantern so he could look each man in the face.

  “No one is in any trouble,” Jonas clarified. “As a man of medicine, I wish to know the circumstances of this man’s death.”

  A few shook their heads and turned to the others standing near them. Everyone expected someone to come forward but after a few moments it was clear no one would.

  Ainsley turned to Jonas. “This body has been moved.”

  “Could he have been crawling to escape the smoke,” Jonas suggested, “and collapsed on his back?”

  Ainsley knelt down beside the body, this time closer to the legs.

  “That wouldn’t explain the drag marks.” Ainsley gestured w
ith his lantern and pointed out two distinct channels where the man’s legs had trailed behind him. “One leg here, one leg here. The grass between the two legs marks isn’t as bruised,” Ainsley explained, “which means his torso was upright and his legs were on the grass.”

  “What are you suggesting?” Jonas asked as Ainsley stood.

  “Someone moved him after he died,” Ainsley said quietly so only Jonas could hear.

  “Perhaps someone pulled him from the fire and hoped it would save his life?”

  “Why did no one call for help?”

  “Do you believe we could have saved him?” Jonas asked, grimacing at the extent of the man’s wounds.

  “That’s not the point,” Ainsley explained. “What would you do if you found someone critically injured?”

  Jonas raised an eyebrow.

  “All right, what would the average person do in this scenario? You remove them from danger and call for a doctor, even if you think the man is beyond hope. No one raised the alarm or reported there was a body.”

  “So you think someone is behind this?”

  Ainsley was quick to shake his head. “I’m saying someone is hiding something and in my experience, it’s more than just a body.”

  Chapter 15

  And knew not quiet was the best.

  By late morning the next day, groggy and still suffering the effects of smoke inhalation, Ainsley called a meeting of all in the house, servants and guests alike. They gathered in the foyer, pinched in close due to the confined space. Jamieson stood shoulder to shoulder alongside Maxwell, who sported a bandage secured around his left hand. Ainsley noticed a few of the kitchen maids giving him hesitant glances. It was clear the young butler’s heroic deeds of the night had not gone unnoticed.

  When Margaret arrived she took her place beside her brother, though somewhat behind, while Julia marched the width of the hall and joined the ranks of her fellow servants. Watching Julia do this stirred a discomfort in Ainsley’s stomach. He would have preferred she stay amongst the family, Aunt Louisa, Nathaniel, Margaret, and Jonas. It seemed unnatural for her to be separated from Ainsley when all he wanted was to claim her as his own. Her position in the foyer magnified the inappropriateness of their relationship.

  Such a gathering hadn’t been held at The Briar in a number of years, not since Lord Marshall lived there. Ainsley had vivid memories of his father leading them all in daily prayer before making clear his expectations of the day. Ainsley himself had no intentions of praying, nor did he see the need to exert his power over anyone.

  Ainsley cleared his throat and gracefully placed his hands behind his back.

  “As many of you are aware, the barn at Summer Hill has burned down and a body was found nearby.” No one moved. Ainsley had no doubt the news had already spread amongst the servants, the gossip creating a tiny flame of its own from eager ear to eager ear. “My good friend Dr. Davies has agreed to look over the corp—” Ainsley stopped, suddenly remembering to whom he was speaking, “the body.”

  “Is it true the body is in the cellar?” one of the young, impertinent kitchen maids asked. She got a sharp elbow to her ribs from the slightly older girl standing beside her.

  “Hold your tongue while Mr. Marshall speaks,” Mrs. Hoffman, the housekeeper snapped.

  “It’s all right,” Ainsley said, raising a hand to encourage calm. “Mr. Owen’s body has indeed been placed in the ice house and the door locked—”

  “Locked? Merciless heavens!” Mrs. Hoffman began to fan herself.

  “Is he expected to spring back to life, sir?” the second footman asked, inciting giggles from the other servants, save a few who stirred nervously.

  “Enough!” Aunt Louisa slapped her hand on the side table, her palm hitting the surface with enough force to cause the vase and flowers to teeter in place. “Never have I witnessed such behaviour!”

  The faces opposite them blanched at Aunt Louisa’s words. Ainsley did not require blind obedience, but he had to admit in times such as these it proved useful.

  “We have offered assistance to the Owen family,” Ainsley said, “I have promised them our discretion in all things. I will ask that you refrain from repeating things overheard in these rooms and that you observe silence when someone outside The Briar wishes to speculate. Our intent is to be a help, not a hindrance, to the family in their time of sorrow. I am expecting your full cooperation in this matter,” Ainsley said, releasing his hands and placing one in his trouser pockets. “Anyone who feels themselves above these expectations will be dismissed without reference. Is that understood?”

  He spotted a few nods from the crowd. “Yes, sir,” they said in a disjointed unison.

  “Very well,” he said with a nod, “you may return to your normal assignments unless otherwise appointed.”

  There was a rush of movement as the servants retreated from the foyer, scurrying for the back kitchen and beyond, already whispering to each other. Julia, however, skipped upstairs and turned toward Margaret’s room. Ainsley hadn’t realized he was watching her leave until Nathaniel appeared beside him. “That’s the kind of maid you hear tell about,” he said suggestively.

  Ainsley revealed a stern expression. “Pardon me?”

  Nathaniel’s expression fell. “I was only saying Miss Margaret’s maid is—” Nathaniel stopped abruptly.

  “We do not encourage fraternization with our staff,” Ainsley said. “Should I catch you engaging in any such activity I shall secure you a stall in the barn where you will be more comfortable.”

  “I was only commenting…I wasn’t saying…” Nathaniel’s voice trailed off with uncertainty. Perhaps he had heard of Ainsley’s reputation; the young, wild cousin back in England who enjoyed drink, gambling, and women. Perhaps he had pictured a man more willing to bend moral code and look the other way for the sake of another man’s sport.

  Ainsley did nothing to hide his distaste for Nathaniel’s comments as he watched Margaret, Jonas, and Aunt Louisa pass him and Nathaniel, making their way into the library.

  “I can tell you are angry about last night,” Nathaniel said, calling his cousin’s attention back to him. “I would have come to help but Mother wouldn’t let me.”

  Ainsley stifled a laugh. “You are nineteen, are you not?”

  Nathaniel nodded.

  “Then I should say you have reached an age where it matters not what your mother may or may not let you do.”

  “That’s hardly fair,” Nathaniel answered.

  “You know what’s not fair? Having every man within ten miles risk fire and smoke to save a family who might have otherwise lost their home while one man hides behind his mother’s skirts. Last night, I saw men with half their faces burnt and others who won’t be able to speak for weeks due to the pain in their throats. But you are all right, and that makes it all better.” Ainsley’s teasing smile turned sour as he turned into his library and shut the door in Nathaniel’s face.

  Margaret’s shoulders sank. “Was that really necessary?”

  “Yes.” Ainsley walked past and took his seat amongst his sketches and insects. He hadn’t realized how tired he truly was until he leaned into his desktop, slumped his chin into his propped-up hand, and allowed his eyes to drift over his work. That last altercation with Nathaniel was the final straw in a succession of physical and emotional demands.

  It did not matter that it was hardly noon. Ainsley opened the top drawer of his desk and retrieved a bottle of scotch he had stashed there. He hadn’t the patience for a glass and instead drank straight from the bottle. The liquid was a soothing release, an elixir of painkiller and energy that settled the trembling in his stomach and mind with the first taste.

  “Peter, you need some sleep,” Margaret said at last.

  While everyone else had time to return home to rest and wash, Ainsley remained at the Owen farm for some time, first seeing to the last of the injured and then helping to settle the horses in The Briar’s stables and pastures. Sleep seemed like a far off
mirage, elusive yet ever so inviting.

  “I shall sleep when I’m—” Ainsley stopped, suddenly distracted by movement in the corner of his eye. Instinctively, he turned toward it, expecting to see Margaret or Jonas pacing the room, but saw no one. When he looked back to the others he saw they hadn’t moved from their previous places.

  “Dead,” Jonas finished with an arch in his eyebrow.

  Ainsley looked toward him, startled.

  “I took Hollinger’s class as well,” Jonas answered, reminding Ainsley from where he had stolen his maxim. Ainsley could only manage a nod.

  “I do believe he has paled,” Aunt Louisa said, suddenly getting up from her place and walking toward him. “Have you eaten anything, Peter?”

  Ainsley pulled away from his desk and tilted back his chair. He lifted his heels to the desktop and crossed his ankles before taking a long draw from the bottle of scotch.

  Aunt Louisa tried to fuss but Ainsley swiped her hand away. “Leave me,” he muttered, eyeing the bottle and marvelling at how quickly the liquid had disappeared.

  “You need food,” Margaret said, moving to the edge of her seat.

  Ainsley avoided looking at her and instead focused on the patch of decaying wallpaper in the farthest corner of the room. He was becoming unhinged, separated from reality. The visions were becoming more frequent, the sensations harder to explain. He could feel his mother in the room, lurking like a fly flittering from one spot to the next, begging to be noticed. She was there like every other soul who still haunted his dreams. Training his eyes to the corner prevented him from seeing them but did nothing for the feeling their presence ignited at the base of his neck.

  He shook his head slightly, a gesture meant to refocus his thoughts. “I’m heading back to Summer Hill later this afternoon,” he proclaimed. “Garret sent me a message that an inspector is expected at the farm today and Garret would like me present, if I were available. I see no reason why I should not attend.”