The Secret of Kolney Hatch (22 page)

The girl stopped and turned to face me. All I could remember were her eyes glaring at me, and suddenly that cold, icy feeling swept over me again as it had a few weeks before.

“Hullo there…ghost lady!” I called to her, or at least tried to call to her. I can’t remember exactly how I spoke the words or even if I did. I stumbled over the stone walkway and tripped onto the grass, the bottle of whiskey still in my hand.

I crawled on the grass and tried to stand up. When I finally did, the girl was gone. I left the bottle on the ground outside and eventually hoisted myself up by the corner of the bridge. I stumbled through the sun porch and started to return to my room when I heard familiar voices coming from outside the dining room door.

I thought I was hearing things. After all, everyone should’ve been asleep. But as I leaned my head against the door to listen, I could hear the voices were certainly Alice and Rosalind, and they seemed to be arguing. Though I had a lot to drink, I could still process what they said.

“He’s already found out too much,” Alice whispered.

                      “I can handle him, Alice,” Rosalind said in a fierce whisper.

                      “It’s much too late. Your uncle’s given you a chance to manage Paul. You’ve failed, and now your uncle has decided to intervene. He’s signed the paperwork on his desk.”

                      “He can’t do that,” Rosalind said angrily. “I made a deal.”

                      “The deal no longer matters, Rosalind. What’s done is done. Let him go.”

                      What did Alice mean by Rosalind had a chance to control me? I was furious, and I had to find out what documents were on Doctor Reid’s desk. I had to find out what deal Rosalind had made. I would do it the next chance I could, and when I was sober.

I waited until Rosalind and Alice were gone before tiptoeing back to my room.

I had to get the letter to Amy to Mr. Newbury tomorrow. From November through February, the sparse grounds at Kolney Hatch did not need the gardeners, and I didn’t trust that letter with anyone else, especially after what I had just heard.

I was about to go to sleep, when I noticed something strange.  My journal was opened; I usually always closed it when I was finished writing for the day. As I closed it, I noticed three words written in red ink that made me shiver. But it was not ink, it was blood, and the words said:

Beware of Rosalin
d
.

thirty four

A QUESTION OF SANITY

Paul Watson’s Journal

November 8, 8 o’cloc
k
.—
The entire week I felt troubled. Doctor Reid had still not returned from his assignment in town, and I still had not found the best time to peruse his office for the document Alice mentioned to Rosalind. I always had a patient to monitor or Woods and Alice watching my every move.

Mr. Newbury was gone. A crisp chill filled the air of Whitemoor now, and the wilted flowers and untended grounds added to the gloom of the asylum. My “hallucinations” were still so vivid. And Claire—she had lost the baby, and though I tried to put it out of my mind, the child could have been my own, and so I could not.

“Paul you seem…distant,” Rosalind said that day as we sat in the wilted garden.

The entire week I avoided being alone with Rosalind, despite her attempts to spend time with me exclusively. I decided to end my affair with her after the discovery in my journal and the conversation with Alice but was too overwhelmed with my patient load to find the best moment to say anything.

Rosalind gently touched my shoulder, but I did not return the affection. I only stared straight ahead in a stupor. I wanted to leave Kolney Hatch; I no longer cared about anything but leaving.

“I made a mistake,” I blurted as I sat on that tiny bench in the garden.

“What do you mean?”

“Coming here. I shouldn’t have come here.”

“To the garden, with me?”

“To Kolney Hatch...To Whitemoor.”

“Paul…”

“I’m going to leave, you know...when your uncle returns.”

I would not look her in the eyes.

“Back to London?”

“Yes.”

“But my uncle needs you here,” she said.

“I’m not going to stay.”

“What about us, Paul?”

“I’m sorry,” I said indifferently.

“But...But I’m in love with you.”

“You can’t be in love with me, Rosalind,” I argued, turning to stare into her icy eyes. “You hardly know me, the real me at least.”

Rosalind’s voice quavered.

 “I took care of you when you were ill.”

“I know, and I do appreciate that, but…”

“Is this about another woman?” Rosalind interrupted.

She stood up and began to pace back and forth in front of me.

“Do you love someone else, Paul?”

“No.”

“It’s that woman Claire, isn’t it?”

“What? No, it’s not…”

 “You seduced me,” she said furiously. “I trusted you.”

I tried to calm Rosalind. I was trying to avoid a scene, but how could I expect anything less than a grand exhibition after what I had just done? She stood up from the bench and wailed that she loathed me. She called me hideous names, raising her voice with each censorious interjection. And after her outburst, she smoothed out her pea-green dress and dabbed her blue eyes with her handkerchief.

“You’ll regret this, Paul Watson, I can promise you that,” she said coldly and walked back toward the asylum.

I sat in the cold, watching the leaves in their gentle descent from the trees. For the first time, I felt no emotions. After a few minutes, I stood and headed back to the asylum to continue my work.

I went to the infirmary first, and then went to check on my other patients. Many of them were in the occupational therapy rooms either with Bonnie or one of the other nurses and attendants. As I passed by Doctor Reid’s office, I saw the door was open. Only Alice had the key, and she was busy at the moment, so I found a perfect opportunity to explore.

I realized I did not know what I was searching for, but I hoped I could find some evidence about what transpired the evening of my so called “hallucinations.” I searched through many files on Doctor Reid’s desk and looked through a couple of the drawers, but I could not find anything of importance. Then, out of the corner of my eye, I glimpsed my file sticking out from under a stack of papers. I picked it up and opened the file cautiously. After perusing it, I discovered Doctor Reid had written an entire two pages of notes about me.

 As I read his comments, I cringed. Doctor Reid twisted everything about that night; he described me as a complete lunatic. He wrote, “For numerous days leading up to the breakdown, [I] seemed to be in a highly anxious condition.”

He also wrote that he tried to “impress on [me] that there was nothing to worry about—that the false apparitions [I] insisted to have seen, did not exist.” If I wanted to continue to work at Kolney Hatch, “[I] would have to preserve [my] failing health, and not allow [myself] to stay in such a condition that [I] would not be able to properly treat [my] patients.”  He continued that, “[I] was muttering incoherent gibberish to [myself] most days. [My] psyche was deeply affected by the asylum, and [my] delusions about a particular “imaginary” woman were predominantly disturbing. In addition, [my] hallucinations of a “hidden torture room” in the asylum were cause for an immediate intervention.”

He hoped the
General Council of Medical Education and Registration would suspend my
medical license immediately, due to these delusions and my disturbed psyche. Also, he wanted to keep me under observation at the asylum until he deemed me fit to integrate into society.

I contemplated burning the papers, but I did not want Doctor Reid to know I was in his office. I placed the file back under the stack of papers and left the room in a state of bewilderment.

Doctor Reid was trying to ruin me.

thirty five

AN IMPORTANT DECISION

Paul Watson’s Journal

November 10, mornin
g
.—
I woke to the sound of Hannah’s screams. Outside, a strong, bitter wind and icy rain pummeled against the windows of the asylum. Cloud-covered skies made the morning seem like dusk. I shivered from the cold. I would have to light the fireplace.

Rosalind had left, packed her things the day after our last encounter, and I had not heard from her since.

        Conversely, Doctor Reid returned. That morning I went straight to his office to tell him I was leaving. Though I was angry, I did not let him know about the documents I discovered in his office.

“Have we not treated you well here?” Doctor Reid said.

He sat back in his chair with a curious look on his face, and then folded his hands one over the other and watched me attentively.

“I know our deal was for me to stay the entire year,” I mentioned.

“Yes, and you signed the paperwork, Doctor Watson.”

“I know, but there must be some way you can relieve me of my position and find a suitable replacement.”

Doctor Reid said nothing. He only stared at me with a blank gape, his hands still folded. Finally, he spoke.

                     “Paul, how do you feel?”

                      “I beg your pardon?”

                      “Have you experienced any more hallucinations since your illness?”

                      “No. I haven’t.”

                      “Are you sure?”

                      “Yes, I’m sure,” I said sternly. “Why do you ask?”

                      “Only out of concern. Alice tells me you’ve been enjoying our whiskey quite often these days...Perhaps you’re trying to suppress certain anxious feelings? Do you have anything you’d like to tell me about, Paul? Perhaps there’s something you’d like to...relieve from your mind?”

                      I knew what Doctor Reid was trying to do. He hoped he could get me to say that I believed the hallucinations were real and that I saw that dreadful girl again so that he could lock me up in this asylum and keep me here. I would not let him. I would not say a word. Even though I did see the girl, and I still vividly remembered the hallucinations of that torture chamber, I would not be a pawn in his game.

“No, I feel fine, thanks.”

                      “In any event, I think it best to take it easy for awhile before we discuss your departure. You aren’t the first young doctor to have trouble working in an asylum. It can be…overwhelming.”

                      Suddenly Alice burst through the door.

                      “Doctor Reid, Watson…”

                      She seemed out of breath and worried.

                      “Miss White’s been hurt. The Captain’s attacked her.”

                      Doctor Reid stood up from his chair.

                      “Watson, take care of Bonnie. I’ll take care of the Captain. We’ll continue this conversation later.”        

                       The Captain had struck Bonnie with his walking stick. He caused a few large gashes on her arms and one on her face, and I gently cleansed and bandaged them.

                      “You’ll need to rest for a few days,” I told her. “Why did The Captain attack you?”

                      “He was...troubled. He kept talking about some ghost that was following him and watching him. He thought
I
 was the ghost.”

        “It’s alright, Bonnie,” I said, comforting her. “You’re safe now.”

        “I feel so silly, crying,” she said.

        “Don’t.”

        She looked at me and smiled.

        “Perhaps being hurt isn’t so bad if I can sit here with you,” Bonnie said.

        “Get some rest now,” I said tenderly. “You’ve had a rough day.”

thirty six
THE TUNNELS

Paul Watson’s Journal

November 14, evenin
g
.
—It was 8 o’clock in the evening on November 12, and all I heard was the crackling of the fire in my small office. As per request of Doctor Reid, I was writing a report on our findings of various treatments for general paralysis.

        We tried sulfarsenol and milk protein but the combination had showed little mental improvement in Ian Chanes or Stephen McCain, who both had advanced paralysis and well established dementia.

        If I wanted Doctor Reid to consider my departure, I would have to play his game. I decided to forget about the girl, the torture chamber, and the documents I found on Doctor Reid’s desk. I hoped that if I could prove my sanity, Doctor Reid would have no choice but to allow me to leave.

        That evening, as I sat at my desk writing the reports, an eerie feeling that someone was watching me crept over me again. The feeling was so strong—I looked around the room to convince myself that no one was there. I checked in the small closet, and then realizing how senseless I seemed, I returned to my work.