Sweet Asylum

by Tracy L. Ward

  Ainsley saw Margaret and Aunt Louisa exchange glances.

  “And we have arranged for Miss Ivy to stay with us for a few days until matters settle down.” Ainsley shot a look to Jonas, who nodded his understanding. There was no better way to hide the procedure they planned and Ainsley’s offer to conceal it so cleanly was as close to support as Jonas could expect.

  “Oh,” Aunt Louisa said. She sat up taller and pulled back her shoulders. “Perhaps Mr. Samuel and Mr. Garret would like a reprieve as well. Why should their sister have all the pampering?” She turned to Margaret excitedly. “We could—”

  “No,” Ainsley answered plainly. “They are to stay at Summer Hill. Once the investigation has concluded, they will rebuild their barns. Ivy will only be here for a few days.”

  A doubtful look washed over Aunt Louisa’s features but she said nothing. Ainsley could see her jaw tighten as she pressed out the folds in her shirt.

  “Maxwell has injured his hand,” Ainsley said, turning his attention to Jonas. “Make sure he is seen to. Until he heals he’ll be little use to us and we are already stretched as it is.”

  Margaret inched toward to edge of her seat. “I’ve asked Cook to prepare some baskets of food and provisions that we can take to anyone who is injured. We’re headed to town this afternoon for supplies.”

  Aunt Louisa scoffed. “It isn’t necessary for you to go yourself, Margaret,” she said with a chuckle lacing her voice. “You prepare your lists and send your staff.” Aunt Louisa looked about the room, seeking agreement from Ainsley and the others.

  “But why shouldn’t I go?” Margaret asked, her marked seriousness contrasting against Aunt Louisa’s laughing tone. “Mother and I—”

  Aunt Louisa sighed heavily and turned from Margaret. She waved a weak hand dismissively as she focused more intently on Ainsley. “You were saying, Peter?”

  Ainsley hesitated. He could see Margaret trembling ever so slightly as she adjusted in her seat, the enthusiasm for her efforts lost. He had no doubt she vacillated between challenging their aunt’s officious behaviour and holding her tongue. Everyone was exceedingly tired and anxious.

  “I think it is good that you go,” Ainsley said making sure to look at Margaret directly. He ignored the look of disdain directed toward him from his father’s sister. “Your personal touch will be appreciated by all recipients, I am sure.” Ainsley took a moment to steel himself against the next thing he wanted to say. Playing with a pen on his desk, he cleared his throat. “Aunt Louisa, I trust you have more than enough demands on your mind what with hiring staff and seeing to arrangements at your own family’s estate. I certainly don’t want you becoming preoccupied with our affairs.”

  Never had Ainsley seen his aunt look so sour.

  “I would be remiss if I didn’t—”

  “Save your mothering. We have little need of it here,” Ainsley offered quickly, putting an abrupt end to her needless intrusions.

  “I wouldn’t be so sure about that.” Aunt Louisa sneered as she stood up and pressed the creases from her skirt.

  Ainsley watched as she quitted the room, offering one final glance at the threshold before disappearing into the hall.

  Ainsley turned back to Jonas and heaved a laborious sigh. “I need to examine the body and perform a quick postmortem. Garret has asked that we do it. Something about the local doctor being unfit for the task.”

  Jonas nodded. “Of course.”

  “I’d like to help,” Margaret said.

  Ainsley looked up from the papers in front of him.

  “It’s been a few months but I’d like to assist.”

  “No.” Ainsley pulled a notebook from the top shelf of his desk.

  “Peter, you can’t mean that!”

  “I think it’s worthwhile to allow her some practice,” Jonas said, coming quickly to her defence.

  “Why? So we can both disappoint our father greatly? Is it not enough to have one ne’er-do-well in the family?” He saw Jonas bristle at the accusation that his profession was less worthy of others. “Besides, what good is such practice when no medical school in the country allows female students?”

  Ainsley went straight for the cupboard at the end of the hall, knowing that was where Jamieson kept all the keys for any given room at The Briar. Medical bag in hand, Jonas tagged along behind, showing interest in the workings of the back rooms by peeking in doorways and paying close attention to what each maid may have been carrying as they walked by.

  “Are the staff always so lively?” he asked as he came alongside Ainsley, who was figuring out which key opened the cellar door.

  “I doubt it,” Ainsley said, plucking up the one he wanted. “They tend to perk up when one of the family is about. If you think The Briar’s kitchen is impressive, you should see the one at Marshall House. Twice the staff without the quiet of the country to contend with. Not to mention my father keeping a close eye on things.”

  “An exacting man, is he?”

  Ainsley tilted his head and smiled. “And so you understand why he and my mother never got along.”

  The cellar was constructed out of layers of stone, strategically placed and cemented together with thick applications of mortar. The stairs themselves were stone, slick with the damp of the place, which grew worse the farther down they went, guided by the stream of light cascading from the cellar door.

  “Mind your step,” Ainsley said to his friend as he reached the bottom. A consortium of underservants looking down at them from the kitchen dispersed rapidly when Ainsley looked up at them. Jonas smiled at the ruckus.

  “Who needs the post with that lot poking about?” he quipped. “Half the county will know what transpired here by nightfall.”

  Ainsley chuckled, knowing what his friend said was true.

  At the bottom of the stairs was a thin table where two lanterns were placed. Ainsley lit them both and handed one to Jonas.

  A maze of rooms, some with wooden doors and others without, the cellar was more or less empty, save for remnants of the previous years’ harvest. Weathered wooden bins and shelving, fastened securely, lined the outer walls. Tiny, ruddy windows let in a small amount of light but not enough to make any sort of difference to the dark atmosphere. Years prior, Mrs. Harrison stumbled upon a vagrant who had breached one of the windows and made a home for himself amongst the food and provisions. Half-starved and maimed by a mining accident, the man was arrested and sent to prison, whereas Lady Marshall said she would have preferred him to be taken to the workhouse. The discovery, however, created such a to-do amongst the staff that the eight-year-old Peter suffered relentless nightmares in which a deformed fiend clawed its way up to Margaret’s room while the family slept.

  An eerie feeling crept up the back of Ainsley’s neck at the memory, forcing him to throw up his hand to massage it away. “I told them Mr. Owen should be brought back here,” Ainsley said, leading the way.

  Chilled by the lack of sunlight and a generous cache of ice in the back rooms, they could see their breath as Ainsley led them down the centre aisle to the coldest room of all. The body of Mr. Owen was laid out on a long, wide board held off the ground by two columns of ice, one at the head, the other at the feet. A thin sheet had been laid over him, covering the body from view.

  Ainsley hung his lantern on a nail in the beam above them while Jonas placed his on a table to the side and proceeded to empty his medical bag of the tools he would need. “I’m afraid I wasn’t prepared for this type of work,” Jonas said. “I’m not sure my knives will do for breaking the sternum.”

  Ainsley waved off his concern. “I doubt we will need to, but I asked Jamieson to bring some of the tools from the garden shed.” He gestured to the crate at the side of the table.

  “Peter, you didn’t.”

  “Why not?” Ainsley asked, pulling back the cloth that covered Mr. Owen’s body. “We needn’t concern ourselves with infection.”

  Jonas gave him a disapproving look but did not protest further. “
I suppose I am not as accustomed to working with dead patients as some.”

  “We can’t all be perfect,” Ainsley answered.

  Jonas laughed. “I’m going to miss this,” he said as he watched Ainsley lean over the corpse.

  “What do you mean?”

  “I’ve accepted a position at Edinburgh,” Jonas explained. “I’m afraid the position means I won’t have much interaction with cadavers,” Jonas said. “My understanding is that it is mostly administrative with some coordination work at the hospital.”

  The revelation came over Ainsley like a punch to the abdomen he wasn’t expecting. Since the first day of medical school they had been as thick as thieves, figuratively and literally. During the day they competed with each other for top marks for most of their courses and then dug up corpses at night from freshly made graves in outlying communities to earn some shillings for Jonas’s tuition. Their midnight activities were never detected but the act bonded them like brothers, making them nearly inseparable.

  “Don’t give me that look,” Jonas said, snapping Ainsley from his memories.

  “What look?”

  “The look that says you are very disappointed in me.” Jonas shook his head. “I can’t stand that look.”

  “I did nothing of the sort.”

  Jonas shook his head in protest and turned his attention to the corpse between them.

  “Does Margaret know?” Ainsley asked suddenly.

  Jonas looked up, licking his lips hesitantly. “I meant to tell her when I first came but…it never felt like the right time.”

  “She’s not going to like it,” Ainsley confessed.

  His friend nodded thoughtfully. “Nothing lasts forever.”

  Chapter 16

  Go with your tauntings, go;

  The barn was a heap of rubble in an otherwise unchanged landscape. What remained of the stables was charred beyond recognition with only a few skeletal beams, blackened and shrunk, protruding from the mound of toppled stone. From his horse Ainsley saw Garret seated on the grassy hill that overlooked the remaining debris. He dismounted slowly, keeping hold of the horse’s reins and leading the gelding to the nearby fence to tether him.

  Garret only looked up when Ainsley’s shadow eclipsed him and even then his gaze was unsure, his focus distant and soft. Never had Ainsley seen such a mournful creature. Garret looked back to his hands, which were knitted in front of him, propped up by his bent knees.

  “Samuel blames me, you know,” he said. “Said it was I who drove him to drink.” A nervous chuckle escaped his lips, hinting at the audacity of his brother’s claims. “As if anyone had such power.” He scratched at the side of his face, his nails scraping along the stubble of his whiskers.

  Ainsley took a seat beside him, settling into the grass with a thud that highlighted his fatigue.

  “I know what you say is true,” Garret said, looking up suddenly, squinting against the sun. “Someone killed my father.”

  “What remains to be answered is how and why,” Ainsley said, his tone somber. “I was hoping you could help us sort through this puzzle.”

  Garret exhaled and returned his gaze to the remains of the barn.

  “I can’t claim to know how the mind of a murderer works,” Ainsley said. “There are murders committed on purpose, they are preplanned and precisely executed. There are murders resulting from passion and uncontrollable rage. And there are murders that could not be foreseen and can be considered purely accidental.”

  “You are asking me which is more likely in my father’s case?” Garret asked.

  “Any insight is beneficial,” Ainsley said. “The detectives will ask.”

  Garret nodded. The inspectors were to arrive any minute but Ainsley had an inkling Garret wasn’t going to wait to share his suspicions. “Ivy has been increasingly unpredictable,” he said as he rubbed his temples. He scrunched up his face as if it pained him to say anything against her. “I’ve caught her speaking aloud as if engaged in some argument—only no one is there. She cries without cause, at least none that I can see.” Garret swallowed. “I’ve been worried for some time that it may come to this, that she may do harm to herself…or others.”

  Ainsley shifted uncomfortably. Perhaps he had done the family a disservice by dismissing her erratic behaviour while she stayed at The Briar. Had he told Garret she wished to die, would his father still be alive?

  “You cannot be held responsible for the actions of another,” Ainsley said by reflex. He did not truly believe the words, however. He blamed himself nearly every day for his mother’s end.

  “I do not wish to inform the inspector,” Garret said as if suddenly remembering, “not yet, at any rate.”

  Ainsley nodded cautiously. “Do you believe her capable of another crime?”

  “Perhaps, though I certainly hope it is truly what you classify as an accident,” Garret said. “I’m afraid our family could not recover should she be arrested and tried, even if she were found innocent. Suspicion is enough for people to shy away.”

  What Garret said was true. Despite elaborate laws governing fair trials and ensuring due process, there were many who would be quick to judge the family for even a hint of accusation. It was a stigma that would haunt them for generations to come.

  “I do not desire scandal,” Ainsley said. He was in no position to single out another lest he himself be set upon and scrutinized. It was this fear that kept him mentally caged and unable to help in ways that would have come so easy to him as his former self. Judging by Garret’s budding smile, however, Ainsley knew his motivations were misunderstood.

  “That is very good to know,” Garret said. “Very good, indeed. You and your friend have discussed the proposal I put before you earlier.”

  “Dr. Davies has agreed to it, solely for the girl’s benefit,” Ainsley said. He scanned the fields that surrounded the barn and marvelled at the empty quiet, a stark contrast to the evening before.

  Garret spoke with great relief. “My sister and I are much obliged—”

  “I have my concerns,” Ainsley said quickly, wishing to forgo any need for exuberant gratitude. He was in no mood to hear how Jonas was, yet again, proving invaluable. “You ask me to open my home and I will do so for the well-being of your sister but…” Ainsley’s voice trailed off, unable to bring himself to say he was scared of the possible outcome.

  He was never so scared when he and Jonas harvested freshly buried bodies from the city cemeteries, nor had he been as scared when he drank and gambled the weeks away in the illegal gambling dens Jonas had introduced him to. He had been no stranger to illicit acts, either noble or otherwise, and yet for some reason a persistent fear kept a hold of him, tainting everything he wished to do.

  In his heart, he believed ending the pregnancy was right for the girl, especially now given Garret’s suspicions of her, but that did not ease the worry that plagued him. He had eluded the long arm of the law for much of his life, saved by his rank of birth and his family’s fortune, no doubt. He was convinced now that it was only a matter of time before his luck ran out.

  “My involvement ends there,” Ainsley said firmly. “For my own family’s sake.”

  Garret nodded. “Fair enough.”

  A few moments later, the police carriage appeared at the end of the lane and began making its way up the slight hill toward the farm. Ainsley and Garret watched as the carriage stopped on the opposite side of the rubble. A single detective slipped from the cab, dressed in a severely starched, navy blue uniform complete with sparkling silver buttons and a crisp notebook in hand. He tipped his hat toward Ainsley and Garret as he made his way toward them. “Good day, sirs,” he said. His attempt to sound stern was lost thanks to a smile that curled the edges of his mouth. “Detective Inspector Marley. Would you be a Mr. Garret Owen?” he asked, offering his hand to Ainsley.

  “No sir,” Ainsley answered, “This is Mr. Owen. I am merely a neighbour assisting.”

  Garret stepped forward and shook the dete
ctive’s hand. “Hello, sir.”

  “May I have your name for my records?” Inspector Marley stood primly, his notebook poised to collect any information they divulged.

  “My name is Peter Marshall, sir, from The Briar.”

  The inspector whistled as he inked the page. “Is that so?” He offered a smile. “How do you expect to assist us then, given you do not live on the property?” he asked. He winked at Garret. Ainsley could already see Inspector Marley was a playful sort, and not at all able to hide his jovial nature.

  “I was present when the body was found,” Ainsley said. He coughed, feeling the burn from the smoke pull at his throat.

  “A body? What kind of body?” Marley asked.

  “A human body,” Ainsley answered. “Mr. Owen’s father. He was found amongst the wreckage.” Ainsley gestured toward the heap near them, nearly to the exact spot where the body had been discovered.

  The detective whistled again, and shook his head. “Unfortunate, indeed.” The detective raised his notebook to write something down. “Smoke inhalation, I image. Overcome by the heat.” Inspector Marley gave a couple nods toward Garret as if to reassure him.

  “I don’t think you understand, Inspector,” Garret said. “Mr. Marshall here believes my father was untimely dispatched.”

  Confused, the inspector raised an eyebrow.

  “He was murdered,” Garret said, spelling it out plainly.

  A stunned quiet blanketed the inspector, who after a moment of thought shook his head. “I highly doubt it,” he said. He gave a nervous chuckle as he surveyed the damage.

  Ainsley glanced to Garret, who stood expressionless while flexing a fist at his side again and again. Ainsley raised a hand in reassurance and began to follow Inspector Marley through the debris. An aura of heat still radiated from the highest mounds. Ainsley watched as Marley sauntered through the middle of what was once the Owens’s barn, mindful of his freshly shined boots and avoiding anything that would tarnish his uniform. Marley paused at one mound of collapsed field stones that had once made up the foundation for the barn. Ainsley saw him looking over the unremarkable stones as he ran his free hand down along the buttons of his uniform.