Looking To The Future (#11 in the Bregdan Chronicles Historical Fiction Romance Series)

by Ginny Dye

  “Of course!” Nancy said quickly. She smiled brightly. “Janie will make a wonderful mother. She must be very excited.”

  “She definitely is,” Carrie agreed, and then turned the topic back to Alice’s situation. “Wally, do you think you might help me find out who Sherman Archer is, as well? Since you’re so well known in the New York business world, I’m hoping there may be connections that will tell us more about him.”

  “I’ll be happy to help, Carrie,” Wally said promptly. “One of the benefits of being in real estate is that I can almost always find people.”

  “At least those that aren’t in the tenements,” Michael said darkly.

  Carrie understood. New York City was a confounding mixture of flamboyant wealth and desperate poverty, all crammed into one bustling city that continued to grow daily.

  “What do you hope to accomplish if you discover who he is?” Nancy asked. “I thought you were here to see Alice?”

  Carrie nodded. “I’m here to see Alice, so that she’ll know she’s not forgotten, but I can do nothing to actually get her out of the asylum. Only her husband can do that.”

  “Alice has rights,” Nancy objected.

  Carrie scowled. “You would think so, but it’s not true.” Shocked silence fell around the table as she filled them in on all she had learned from Elizabeth Packard. When she finished, the only sound in the room was the carriages rolling by on the cobblestone streets below.

  “It’s the law here in New York?” Nancy asked in a horrified whisper.

  “It is,” Carrie assured her. “There are many wives who are locked up in insane asylums simply because their husbands want them there.”

  “I don’t know what to say,” Nancy murmured. She swung toward her husband. “Wally, we have to do whatever it takes to get Alice out of there. And then we’re going to help Elizabeth Packard with whatever she needs when she fights the law here in New York.”

  Wally nodded immediately. “Of course we are. And, I’ll find out who Sherman Archer is,” he promised. He locked eyes with his son. “Michael and I will do it together.” He paused for a moment. “Since you are going to see Alice, won’t she be able to tell you about her husband?”

  “I hope so,” Carrie responded, “but I’m afraid to count on that. There is still a possibility they won’t let me in to see her.” She opened her mouth to say more, but then closed it. There was no reason to talk about the fact she was concerned what condition she would find Alice in. Mrs. Packard had warned that a month spent in the insane asylum could alter someone completely.

  Wally eyed Carrie, seeming to see into her dark thoughts, but merely nodded. “I’m still uncertain what you plan to do with the information.”

  Carrie met his eyes. “Once we find him, I’ll continue to need your help to force him to set her free.”

  Wally cocked a brow. “I’m listening.”

  “All of us in Philadelphia discussed this at length with Mrs. Packard. We’ve come up with a plan. We believe Sherman Archer must be a businessman. As such, he relies on other business connections for his income. We don’t know enough to be certain, but we’re hopeful our investigation will reveal some valuable business dealings we can use as leverage.”

  A smile glittered in Wally’s eyes. “So, when I find out who he is, I use my connections to block some valuable business deals because of the horrible way he is treating his wife. The business will be blocked until he releases Alice from the asylum.”

  “And agrees to divorce her,” Carrie added. “As long as she is married to him, she is considered nothing but property. He could decide to lock her up somewhere else, and we may never know where she is the next time. He must divorce her,” she repeated. “Elizabeth assures me that men who stoop low enough to do what he has done are prompted by greed and power. If that is threatened, they will do what it takes not to lose it.”

  Wally nodded thoughtfully. “I’d say Elizabeth’s assessment is correct.”

  “We’ll find him,” Michael stated, his quiet voice filling the room.

  “Now,” Wally continued, “we need to talk about the asylum.” He turned and gazed at Anthony. “How do you feel about Carrie going in there by herself?”

  Carrie bristled. “What Anthony feels will not change my decision,” she said. “I am going.”

  “Oh, I know you are, my dear,” Wally said, “but if it were my Nancy going into that hideous place, I might need to be in the asylum myself before she came back out. Not knowing what she was going through would probably drive me quite mad,” he finished.

  Carrie opened her mouth, but Wally stopped her with a raised hand.

  “I realize you have said nothing about a deeper relationship with Anthony, but I am not blind—or dumb,” he continued. “Whatever your feelings for Mr. Wallington, it is quite obvious what his feelings are for you. I’m merely trying to prepare him.”

  Carrie blushed and snapped her lips shut. She refused to look at Anthony, knowing she would see nothing but amusement in his eyes.

  “Well done, Father,” Michael said with a laugh. “I don’t believe I’ve ever seen anyone able to silence Carrie.”

  Carrie scowled at him, but then smiled reluctantly. “Go on,” she murmured.

  Wally fastened his eyes on Carrie. “People are not allowed in to visit patients at the asylum,” he began. “The only reason you are getting in is because of Dorothea Dix. She has gained quite an influence because of all she has done to try to create change in the asylums, but I’m afraid the vast majority of people don’t know the real truth about what happens in those places. People want to believe the insane are cared for kindly and properly. If they hear stories of abuse, they dismiss them as wildly exaggerated.”

  “But why?” Carrie cried, thinking of all she had read in Elizabeth Packard’s book. “There are truly horrible things happening.”

  “Yes,” Wally agreed immediately, “but if people acknowledge the horror of reality, then they either feel compelled to take action, or they feel guilty because they turn away from the suffering. It is easier to choose denial over fact.”

  “How do you know the truth about what is happening?” Anthony asked keenly.

  Wally’s lips twisted. “I fear I know only a portion of it, but what I know is bad enough. I was out to a meal with business colleagues several months back. I overheard talking from another table. Two of the men were doctors from the Women’s Insane Asylum. I doubt they realized they could be so well heard, but they might not have cared either way. They talked in very harsh terms of the women held there, laughing at the treatment they received.”

  Carrie trembled. “They were laughing?”

  “I’m afraid so,” Wally replied. “I heard one of them say the women are so insane they aren’t even aware of how terrible their treatment is.” His lips thinned.

  Nancy stood abruptly, paced around the room, and then turned to her husband, her eyes flashing with fury. “Why have you not told me this before?”

  Wally spread his hands. “And what would you do?” He met his wife’s eyes. “You are fighting for women’s rights. As am I. Until women have more rights, I doubt there is much that can be done.”

  “But we have to try!” Carrie wanted to scream the words at the top of her lungs, but somehow she managed to control her voice. She could feel Anthony’s eyes on her. She glanced at him, relieved to see nothing but sympathy.

  “I agree,” Wally said. “That is why Michael and I are going to find this Sherman Archer and discover all we can about him. We may not be able to change life for most of the women in the asylum, but if we can get Alice out, at least I’ll feel we will have done something. And then,” he added, “we will help Elizabeth Packard with the laws here in New York.” He turned to gaze at Carrie. “Prepare yourself the best you can, Carrie. It will be one of the hardest things you have ever done, to leave Alice tomorrow. I promise you, I will not rest until we have a way to get her out.”

  Chapter Sixteen

  Try as sh
e might, Alice could not stop shivering. The two blankets she had started her imprisonment with had been taken away as punishment for her unwilling attitude toward the attendants. Now, huddled against the hard wall, wrapped by darkness, the cold was eating away at her. She stared listlessly into the dark, wondering if this mindless existence was all she would ever know. Her body craved sleep, but her mind feared what would happen if she allowed herself the vulnerability of slumber during the night. While she didn’t dislike any of the other women in her room, she knew she was not safe from their volatility. During the daylight hours, she contrived to find ways to communicate with them, and she seemed to be getting through to them in many ways, but when the terror of night descended, their reason seemed to flee.

  She gritted her teeth when a moan struggled to escape her lips. She had managed to stay silent since that night when she had allowed a sob to burst forth. She refused to make that mistake again.

  “Help!”

  Alice straightened when the cry for rescue sounded outside the door of their room. She longed to rush out to help, but the large lock prevented her, and she knew there was nothing she could do to stop whatever was happening. She put her hands over her ears, but it could not block the noise.

  “Get your hands off me!” came another cry.

  Alice recognized the voice of a new patient who had arrived on the boat just that day. She had known the instant she laid eyes on the delicate woman that she was as sane as she herself was. She longed to warn her that her sanity would only make her treatment worse, but there had been no opportunity before they had been locked in for the night.

  “Shut up!” the attendant growled.

  Alice closed her eyes when she recognized Mrs. Bartle’s harsh voice. The stout Irish woman was someone she had learned to quickly dread. Alice had done her best to stay clear of her, but the very effort had caused some of the punishments she had endured, because Mrs. Bartle demanded compliance from everyone.

  “Help me!” came another piteous cry, followed by a yelp of surprise and then a moan of pain.

  Alice squeezed her eyes closed tightly, but she knew too well what was happening. Some of the attendants were actually kind, doing their best to help the patients they felt such pity for. Others, like Mrs. Bartle, took perverse pleasure in making the patient’s existence as terrible as they could. Unfortunately, those attendants were the majority.

  “I said shut up!” Mrs. Bartle said roughly. “You need to learn your place here.”

  Alice could see nothing in the dark, but the charge in the air told her that her roommates were awake, listening to the exchange outside the door. She could feel the fear growing in the dank air. She bit her lip, trying to prepare for whatever was coming.

  When she heard the sound of dragging feet, she knew the helpless patient was being pulled by her hair to the bathroom. Her cry for help faded away, and was replaced moments later by a scream of terror as she was plunged into a bathtub of icy, cold water reserved for non-compliant patients. Seconds later, there was only silence.

  Alice counted silently, wondering how long Mrs. Bartle would hold the woman under the water. How long would the delicate woman struggle? How long before she realized that only by ceasing her struggling would she be allowed up for air? Would she pass out, as others had, before she was released? Silent tears coursed down Alice’s cheeks as she imagined the terror the poor woman must be feeling. Alice prayed she would realize quickly the futility of her resistance.

  Alice bit back her groan as the woman in the bed beside her began to move restlessly. Moments later, another woman, Susannah, swung her legs over the bed and moved toward the door, muttering in agitation. When she raised her fists to pound on the door, Alice sprang into action. If Susannah beat on the door, Mrs. Bartle’s wrath would turn on them. Alice had vowed to protect these defenseless women as much as possible.

  “No,” she whispered, grabbing Susannah’s fist just before it hit the door. “It will only bring trouble,” she whispered into the skinny woman’s ear. “Please don’t, Susannah. I promise to take care of you.”

  Susannah hesitated long enough for Alice to hope. The middle-aged woman with wild eyes responded well to her during the day. Alice had washed Susannah’s hair that day—probably the first time it had been washed since her imprisonment. Susannah had actually relaxed while Alice brushed it out. “Shh… I promise to take care of you,” Alice said as soothingly as she could.

  She breathed a sigh of relief when Susannah lowered her hand and leaned into her slightly. “That’s right,” Alice said quietly. “Let’s go back to bed now.” As she turned to lead the woman back to her hard, narrow bed, another woman leapt up.

  “Shut up!” the other woman yelled. “Shut up!”

  The sound of her angry voice destroyed Susannah’s slender thread of composure. She stiffened and jerked away from Alice. “Ahh!” Susannah screamed.

  Knowing she should retreat to her bed, Alice made one more attempt to bring the situation under control. “Shh… It’s all right. It’s all right, Susannah.” She reached for the woman’s shoulder again, hoping her touch would bring comfort.

  “No!” Susannah screamed.

  The darkness gave Alice no chance to dodge the blow she could sense coming, but could not see. She groaned and crumpled into a heap on the floor when Susannah’s fist connected with the right side of her face. Though skinny and malnourished, the troubled woman still had an impressive amount of strength.

  The lock turned and the door flew open. Suddenly, the room was illuminated by bright lantern light. Alice held her hand to her throbbing face as she peered up into the light, hoping against hope that she wouldn’t see Mrs. Bartle glaring down at her. She breathed a sigh of relief as she stared up into the concerned blue eyes of another of the attendants, Miss Wade.

  “Quiet,” Miss Wade called, keeping her voice both calm and assertive. She swung the light around the room, knowing the illumination would calm the distress of the other women. When silence once more consumed the women huddled on their beds, their eyes gazing back with fear, the attendant crouched down beside Alice. “What happened?”

  Alice sighed. “I tried to keep them quiet,” she said ruefully, biting back the sobs that wanted to escape. The pain radiating through her face told her she had been badly hurt.

  “You shouldn’t have done that,” Miss Wade scolded, “but I know you can’t help yourself. I’ve watched you help the other women since you’ve been here.” Her voice held both admiration and dismay.

  “Is it bad?” Alice asked.

  “Yes,” Miss Wade said with a sigh, her concerned eyes revealing the truth. “It’s bad. We’ve got to get it looked at.”

  Alice shivered at the thought of going to the medical clinic in the middle of the night. She was certain it was bad at any time, but she knew she would be far more vulnerable to the men who staffed the clinic during the night hours. “No!”

  Miss Wade understood immediately. “I’ll be with you. I promise not to leave you alone.”

  Alice shook her head again, her thoughts racing. “Is my face cut? Is there blood?”

  Miss Wade held the lantern high. “No, but it is quite bruised and already swelling. You won’t see out of that eye in the morning.”

  Alice delicately probed her face, grimacing as each touch increased the pain, but was relieved to discover nothing was broken. “No bones are broken. There is nothing they can do for me in the medical clinic,” she announced. “If you would be so kind as to get me some cold water and a rag, I will do what I can to control the swelling.”

  Miss Wade stared at her. “And just how do you know this?”

  Alice peered up at her. “I’m a doctor,” she said quietly.

  Miss Wade gasped. “You are a what?”

  “I’m a doctor.”

  Miss Wade stared at her. “Is that your craziness talking?” she asked suspiciously.

  Alice smiled despite the pain. “I think you know that isn’t true. My husband had me put
here because he does not want me to be a doctor. The laws of New York say I have no rights since I am a married woman, so here I am.”

  Miss Wade whitened and stared at Alice for several moments. “I will bring you the cold water,” she said softly.

  *****

  Alice ached all over, and her whole face was swollen when dawn finally chased away the worst of the dark in her room. Fear and pain had kept her awake all night as she held cold compresses to her face. She longed for arnica, but knew asking for it would be pointless. Even if they had it, which she was certain they would not, they would not give it to her. As much as she hurt, she did not regret her decision to stay in her room.

  Miss Wade appeared early, unlocking the door and carrying in a fresh pan of icy water. She stared at Alice and shook her head. “Your right eye is swollen shut,” she announced. “Your left eye is almost as bad. Your face must hurt like the dickens.”

  “I have felt better,” Alice admitted, knowing she must look terrible. She had managed to wash at least her upper body every day she had been locked up, making sure she kept her hair clean in an attempt to maintain sanity, but there would be no such effort this morning. All she wanted to do was curl up in her bed and finally go to sleep. Now that it was daylight, the other women would be taken from the room.

  Miss Wade looked at her with pity. “I wish I could let you stay in bed today, but the director is coming through. If he sees you in bed, you will pay for it.”

  Alice shuddered. She knew what paying for it meant. She hauled herself to her feet, biting back the groan, and made her way into the main room. She was in pain, but the damage done to her face was not fatal. She paused for a moment to stare at the weak light filtering in through the bars of the narrow window. She had always considered herself rather weak. The last month had taught her she had more strength than she imagined. She doubted it would keep her from slipping into insanity if she were to be kept here for life, but somehow it gave her a momentary feeling of pride.