by Ginny Dye
Carolyn stepped in to rescue her. “It’s nice to meet you, Miss Gilbert. I was just on my way out, and Mr. Anthony is being so kind as to walk me home. I hope you have a nice night.”
Carrie flashed her a grateful smile, realizing Elizabeth was as uncomfortable as she was.
“It was nice to meet both of you, too,” Elizabeth murmured.
Carrie watched as Carolyn and Jeremy walked down the stairs, resisting the urge to call them back so she wouldn’t have to be alone with Elizabeth. Stop it, she scolded herself. You’ve been hoping she would walk through the door again someday. Someday is here. Find out what she wants.
“May I pour you some tea?” she asked graciously. “It’s a brutal night.”
“It is,” Elizabeth agreed. “And, yes, I would love some tea.” She took a deep breath before continuing. “I’m sure you’re wondering why I’m here.”
“The thought has crossed my mind,” Carrie admitted with a small smile as she quickly poured two cups of tea. Hurt was still a hard knot in her stomach, but she also couldn’t miss the desperation in Elizabeth’s eyes. “What’s wrong?” she asked quietly.
Elizabeth twisted her hands in her lap as she looked around the room that had once rang with the laughter of five friends. “I need your help,” she blurted, blushing crimson. “I know I’ve done nothing to deserve it, but I had to come ask.”
“Help with what?” Carrie asked, completely mystified.
“It’s Alice,” Elizabeth cried, her eyes filling with tears. “Her husband has put her into an insane asylum!”
Carrie gasped. Of all the scenarios she could have imagined, this was not one of them. “What?” Then she was reminded how much time had passed. “Alice is married?”
Elizabeth’s eyes flashed with a terrible fury. “She’s married to the most horrible man alive.”
Carrie shook her head. “I’m afraid you need to start at the beginning.” Her mind was whirling at the thought of Alice in an insane asylum. Sweet Alice, with her blond hair, blue eyes, and gentle manner. Carrie couldn’t hold back her shudder. “Please tell me what happened.”
Elizabeth slumped, her fury replaced by confused fear. “I don’t know how it happened,” she whispered. “I got a letter from one of Alice’s friends in New York that she had been spirited away in the night to an insane asylum. Her friend is frantic to help her, but doesn’t know what to do.”
Carrie was horrified, but still confused. “And you think I can help? How?” She would have to get the whole story later.
Elizabeth straightened. “I remember that you told us one time that Abby, your stepmother, is friends with Dorothea Dix.”
“That’s right,” Carrie agreed.
“Well,” Elizabeth said, “Dorothea Dix has been very involved with improving conditions in insane asylums I’m hoping she can get me in to see Alice.” She reached out and grabbed Carrie’s hands. “Carrie, we have to help her. I know that we disagree on some things, but I hope we can agree that sweet Alice doesn’t belong in an insane asylum!”
“She certainly does not,” Carrie said vehemently. “You have to tell me everything you know. I promise I will contact Abby in the morning so that she can connect us to Dorothea Dix.”
“I don’t know much,” Elizabeth moaned. “Alice got married about six months ago.” Her face softened for a moment. “She was so happy. Sherman is very wealthy, quite good-looking, and seemed to dote on her. He also seemed to support her decision to be a doctor.” Her face darkened. “Until they actually got married. He let her come back to school, but she had to return to New York several times at his command. It greatly impacted her studies, but she was determined to catch up with everyone else. Then he started telling her he didn’t want his wife to be a doctor because some of his business connections felt it was wrong, and because it kept her from fulfilling her role as his wife.” Her eyes flashed. “The last time he telegrammed her to come back, a few weeks ago, she was quite irritated, but didn’t feel she had any choice but to return. He insisted he needed her badly.”
Carrie sat quietly, letting Elizabeth tell the story in her own way, but her insides were seething.
“I received a letter from Alice about a week ago. I suppose the deed had already been done before I got the letter. She said she was scared what Sherman might do, because he was quite determined she would not receive her medical degree. Dear Alice loves to please, but she was also certain she should be a doctor, and had reminded Sherman that he was aware of this when they married.”
“And Sherman was not pleased,” Carrie guessed.
Elizabeth shook her head. “Alice said she was afraid.” She groaned and covered her eyes with her hands. “I’m sure she never imagined he would put her in an insane asylum…” Her voice trailed off as it thickened with tears. “Carrie, I am having constant nightmares. I can’t imagine Alice in one of those terrible places.”
Carrie listened grimly. She couldn’t either.
*****
Alice Humphries Archer hunched her shoulders and tried to close herself off from reality as another scream ripped through the dark. She shuddered as tears coursed down her face. She tried to be strong during the day when light exposed her weakness, but at night she couldn’t hold her terror at bay. She shrank back against the wall, huddled as far in the corner as she could, hoping that being as small as possible would keep her safe. She felt terrible for the five other women who shared her cramped room, but she knew they were completely unstable and could become volatile at any moment. She bit back the sob that wanted to escape her lips, determined that no sound would awaken one of her roommates.
Her thoughts whirled as she struggled to bring her emotions under control.
Alice, you are nothing but an embarrassment to me. You are my wife now, and you must do what I say. My business colleagues have made it clear how they feel about my wife becoming a doctor. They question my fitness for business if I would sanction my wife taking on such an unwomanly profession. I will simply not allow it.
Sherman’s voice boomed through her head, as real as if he were here in the room with her. Just as real was her response.
But Sherman, you knew I wanted to be a doctor when we married. I have only one term left to finish. I’m sorry your colleagues are disturbed by my choice of profession, but I will not allow them to change my path.
Her voice had been firm and unyielding. In spite of Sherman’s many demands for her to come home from school, she had been sure he would listen to reason.
Being a doctor is who I am meant to be. I love making a difference for people, especially by making them well. I have worked so hard, and I’m so close. You’ve told me many times that you want me to be happy. This is what makes me happy.
His eyes had grown hard and flashed at her with a fury she didn’t know he was capable of.
And so, because of your selfishness, my career must suffer? I never knew you were so uncaring. You don’t care that I am embarrassed by my own wife? His lips had curled into something very closely resembling the snarl of an angry wolf. You have no choice, Alice. I have tried to reason with you, but obviously I have failed. Now I am simply telling you. You will not become a doctor.
Her own temper had flared then. Alice very rarely expressed anger, but what Sherman was demanding of her was simply unacceptable. Equally unacceptable was his belief he could simply demand how she would live her life. She had drawn herself up to her full height, still quite diminutive next to his towering size, and had looked him square in the eye.
Yes, I will become a doctor. You cannot stop me. I have worked hard for this, and I will be a physician. If our marriage must end, so be it.
She had surprised herself with her own determined courage, but she had faltered when she saw the cold hatred pouring from his eyes.
You would attempt to divorce me?
Alice still trembled at what she had seen in his expression. If I must, had been her only reply. She had wanted to scream and cry at his lack of understanding, but
she had remained stoic, somehow knowing that to admit fear would only make her more vulnerable.
The words that came next had shocked her, but she had not taken them seriously.
You will either do as I say, or I will see to it that you can never become a doctor.
She had looked at him with contempt, turned her back, and walked from the room.
The very next night, catching her completely unaware, three men had entered the study where she was catching up on the time she had missed at school, and carried her away to the insane asylum where she was now locked up. She had fought them, but had been no match for their strength. She had tried to cry out to get the attention of neighbors, but they had covered her mouth to muffle her screaMiss
Alice sagged even further back against the wall, hoping it would swallow her to take her away from the reality of the asylum, but the cold hardness mocked her. She had been sure, during her first few days in the asylum, that it would be quickly discovered she was far from insane, and they would release her.
It was true many of the women locked in the ward with her were clearly not in their right mind, but there were several, like her, who were merely traumatized and terrified, committed by their husbands. They made it clear no one was interested in her sanity, or lack thereof. Her husband had assured the asylum that she was indeed insane. His connections in business had somehow secured the confirmation of two physicians whom she had never seen, that Alice Humphries Archer was insane. It was all that was needed to make sure she stayed locked up for as long as he wished. She had no idea how that could possibly be true, but she also knew she had no way of finding out.
As Alice thought about it now, the first sob burst from her lips. She could no more hold it back than she could harness the waves of the sea.
“Shut up!”
Alice broke into a sweat as a snarl sounded from the bed above her.
“Shut up!” The cry grew louder. “Shut up! Shut up! Shut up!”
Suddenly, other cries rose from the room as the first woman woke the rest.
Alice grabbed a blanket and pulled it over her head, praying with all her might that one of the women wouldn’t attack her.
Shut up! Shut up! Shut up!
Alice gasped with relief when the door was flung open, a bright lantern illuminating the room.
“What’s going on in here?” The ward matron stormed in, swinging the light to illuminate every face. When it landed on Alice, who had lowered her blanket just enough to peer over the edge, the light stopped for a brief moment.
Alice, watching from her huddled position, was sure she saw a flicker of sympathetic understanding in the woman’s eyes before she looked away. The light calmed the panic in the room as the women settled down to groans and sighs. When everything was under control again, the matron turned, left the room, and closed the door.
Alice bit her lip when she heard the lock snap into place. She would not make one more sound.
Chapter Twelve
Moses stared out the window of their small, wood-framed Oberlin home at the swirling snowflakes dancing among the barren limbs of the trees. The snow from shortly after Christmas had melted away, but he had felt a big storm coming in the last few days. The dark nimbostratus clouds on the horizon earlier that morning had told him this was the day. When he was coming home from class, the wind had carried the clouds lower and lower, seeming to push them together in a more menacing mass as they came. He had picked up John and Hope from the woman next door who cared for them while they were in class. They had all been in the middle of cookies and hot chocolate when the first flakes had begun to fall.
Felicia pushed in through the door, brushing snow from her hair as she hung her coat. “I should have listened to you this morning,” she said. “I didn’t really think it would start snowing, so I didn’t take a hat. You were right.”
“Your father is always right,” Moses stated.
Felicia glanced at him, her lips twitching. “Whatever you say,” she teased. Then her eyes brightened. “Is that hot chocolate?” When Moses nodded, she rushed over to the stove to pour a cup. “I learned the history of hot chocolate today.”
Moses cocked a brow. “Hot chocolate has a history?”
“Of course it does, Daddy,” Felicia responded as she sat down at the table and grabbed a cookie.
“What is his’ory?” Hope demanded as she took a big bite of her cookie.
Felicia grinned at her. “It’s the story about how something happened.” She held up her cup. “Like the story of hot chocolate.”
“Like story!” Hope replied, her little face crinkling with an expectant smile. “Tell story!”
“Yeah,” John exclaimed. “Tell the story of hot chocolate.”
Moses listened as Felicia began to talk, amazed as always that her small head could carry so much knowledge.
Felicia held up her cup. “Daddy made this by shaving part of a chocolate bar into hot milk and adding some sugar. Well, chocolate bars have only been around for thirty years.” She paused. “They weren’t invented until 1839. And it was only ten years before that, in 1828, that some Dutch guy figured out how to make cocoa powder by taking out all the cocoa butter.”
“Really?” Moses was intrigued. If he had ever stopped to think about it, he would have imagined that chocolate bars had been around for quite a long time – much longer than just thirty years.
Felicia nodded eagerly. “Chocolate actually starts as cacao seeds that grow in pods on a cacao tree. They ferment the seeds, then dry them, and then roast them. Once they take the shells off, they have something called cacao nibs. They crush the nibs into a thick paste called chocolate liquor.” Her eyes brightened. “That’s what people used to mix into water to make a drink.”
Moses made a face. “No sugar? Sounds bitter.”
Felicia laughed. “Yes, but it was a very manly drink,” she assured him. “I love hot chocolate because it tastes so good, but a lot of old civilizations consider chocolate to be very sacred. Usually only the elite were able to drink it. Well,” she amended, “the elite and the soldiers.”
“Soldiers?” John piped in. “Like Daddy used to be?”
“Yes,” Felicia agreed. “Chocolate used to be a part of daily rations because it gave soldiers so much energy. They believed the chocolate would make them fight harder and longer.” She looked at Moses. “Daddy, did they ever give it to you in the war?”
Moses shook his head. “Perhaps to some troops, but not the black troops.”
Felicia frowned. “Well, it was introduced to Europe in the seventeenth century. It was known as a luxury, and a drink of the elites. Coffee, on the other hand, was something that was consumed by lower and middle-class people,” she revealed. “If you drank coffee, you were looked down upon.”
Moses shook his head as Felicia lifted her nose and looked at him haughtily. “You better not let your mama hear you say that. You know how she is about her morning cup of coffee.”
“You too, Daddy,” Felicia giggled.
Moses nodded solemnly. “I love a good cup of hot chocolate, but it’s best if you don’t get in the way of my morning coffee.”
Felicia giggled again as the door opened, letting in a rush of cold air. Rose stomped into the kitchen, her eyes lighting with delight when she saw them all seated around the table.
“Do you want some hot chocolate, Mama?” John called. “It makes you better than when you drink coffee.”
Rose removed her coat and advanced on him. “Who told you such a terrible untruth? Are you saying my coffee is a bad thing?” she demanded.
John chortled at the mock glare in her eyes. “Not me, Mama. Felicia said it.”
Rose swung around to glare at Felicia. “Is this true?”
Felicia jumped up and backed away to the stove. “I’m merely telling history,” she protested, her eyes wide with innocence. “You can have all the coffee you want, but…” she paused dramatically, “…if you really want to be elite, you will drink more hot
chocolate.”
Rose sighed with relief. “It’s settled then. I couldn’t care less about being elite. I simply want to start every day with my coffee. However,” she said playfully, “I’m happy to pretend to be elite on a snowy afternoon.” She poured herself a cup of hot chocolate and reached into the cupboard to pull out a plate of scones.
“That’s where those are,” Moses exclaimed. “I couldn’t find them, so I brought out the sugar cookies.”
“That’s because I hid them from you,” Rose retorted. “I wanted there to be some left for dinner tonight.”
“You think I would have eaten them all?” Moses demanded.
Felicia smiled and laid a hand on his arm. “You do eat a lot of food, Daddy.”
“I’m a big man,” Moses protested.
John jumped up and reached for a scone. “And I’m a big boy,” he declared as he grabbed a scone. “Someday I’m going to be as big as Daddy. My teachers told me so.”
“That’s true,” Rose said with a sigh. “I don’t know how anyone expects me to feed all of you.”
“Grandma Annie doesn’t seem to mind,” John answered around a mouthful of scone.
“Don’t talk with your mouth full,” Rose scolded, and then took another sip. “Grandma Annie is a saint,” she replied. “She actually loves cooking for all of us.”
“Not you, Mama?” Hope piped in. “No love to cook?”
Rose paused. “I love feeding my family,” she responded, “but I certainly don’t love to cook the way Annie does.”
Moses pushed aside his feelings as Rose smiled and bit into a scone. Now was not the time for anything but gratitude for being with his family like this on a snowy day.
*****
Moses finished reading John his bedtime story before he went downstairs. Hope was asleep, and Felicia was in her room studying. He was very much looking forward to some time to be with Rose. He stopped at the door to the parlor to admire the sight of his beautiful wife, curled under an afghan in a chair pulled close to the fire.
