Whispers of Bedlam Asylum (Sigmund Shaw Book 2) (29 page)

46.

It was almost hard to believe that the cell that Silvester Thursby found himself in, with its bare stone walls, iron barred door, and small cot, was better than the living conditions that were offered at Bedlam. The temperature was reasonable, the bed was adequate, and the blanket was in good condition. Even the food was superior.

Prisoners of the law where better treated than prisoners of the mind.

It had been three days since his arrest and, outside of a guard that brought him his meals and the legal counsel that was assigned to him, he had no contact with anyone. Although he pined for Amberlyn, the knowledge that she was well, kept him in a state of exuberance. What did it matter that he was in jail as long as she was healthy and that she loved him.

He scoffed at the poets who talk of sacrifice, pain, and conquests in the name of love – what did they really know? Had they anything more to draw on than romantic concepts? Had they suffered the loss of a loved one and had to do the unthinkable to bring them back? Unlikely. Their pretty words fell short of ugly reality, nor could they possibly capture the unbridled bliss of true love. It was the height of arrogance if they thought they could.

During those solitary hours laying on the cot in his cell, Silvester occasionally thought about the bad he had done. Part of him knew that it was wrong, but a larger part excused it with the thought of a healthy Amberlyn. There was no greater purpose that he could imagine. Along with those thoughts, he further justified his actions by considering the effects of the serum, how it changed his thinking and views. Yes, it increased his logic and learning ability, but it also compromised his morals. Never were things more black and white than while under the serum’s influence. This self-induced madness was his one hope of possible release, that a jury would have lenience on him due to the effects of the drug and, of course, the positive outcome of his fiancé.

Perhaps the formula alone – which he had carefully hidden in a damaged wall in the basement of Bedlam – could procure his release. Was the healing power of his discovery worth the price of his freedom?

Although he allowed these occasional reprimands of conscience, Silvester spent most of his time thinking of the happiness of having Amberlyn back. Even the dark cell couldn’t extinguish the light of joy he had at the thought of her.

All was not happy, however, as their future was quite unknown. Amberlyn may be healthy, but he was now a prisoner. His prospects were poor, at best, but not without a little hope – according to his lawyer. Most interesting was the complete reversal of their positions. Whereas Amberlyn was a prisoner of sorts and he the free one, now she was free and him the prisoner. He contemplated a possible life of imprisonment, where his engagement would not proceed to the next step, and yet to have her love would be enough.

A sound of footsteps in the hallway caused him to cock his head as it seemed a little early for the evening meal.
The guard was probably just on his rounds
, he figured. Before long, though, Silvester could hear more than one set of footsteps.
Could this finally be Amberlyn?
he thought excitedly.

Jumping out of bed, he moved to the bars of his cell and looked down the hall towards the sounds with great anticipation. At first he could only see the guard. A quick feeling of disappointment calmed his excitement. Looking again at the approach, he caught a glimpse of something else, a bit of a dress could be seen behind the constable. Perhaps it was her after all!

As the guard reached the cell, he stepped to the side which allowed Silvester a full view of the lady that was being escorted – Amberlyn. Her appearance was almost a dream. Silvester had seen her every day in the asylum, wearing the drab clothes of a patient, unkempt hair, and only a touch above filthy. But now, she stood before him with a new, beautiful, although modest, dress. Her dark hair was clean and styled in a simple fashion. It was the total transformation of this woman that stood in front of him. The internal change had already been witnessed, but this was the first glance at the external effects.

“You have a visitor,” said the guard, unnecessarily, to Silvester. Then, turning to Amberlyn, “I will be just down the hall, miss. If this criminal gives you any trouble, just shout and I’ll be here in an instant.”

“Thank you, sir,” she said quietly.

“Oh, Amberlyn!” Silvester started as soon as the guard had walked away, “I am so happy to see you. You look wonderful! How are you feeling?” He had so many things he wanted to say and ask.

Still in a quiet voice, she responded, “I am…overwhelmed. When not resting, for I am still very weak, I have spent much time listening to my family, catching up on what I have missed. It is hard to comprehend that I was in Bedlam for years. I do not have much recollection for the passing of that time and it has left me with many confusing thoughts and emotions.”

Silvester nodded in sympathy. He could not imagine what this reawakening must be like. “My dear Amberlyn, it surely is difficult, but I’m certain that with more time things will get easier.”

“I hope so,” she responded and then said quietly, “You were with me in the asylum all those years.” It wasn’t a question, but Silvester nodded. She continued, “You gave up on any other career, any other chance at a relationship, to take that abysmal job, for me.”

“It was nothing,” he gushed. “I could not bear the thought of you being alone in there. I just needed to be near you. My love would have endured much more.”

Looking straight into his eyes, Amberlyn said, “You have my sincerest appreciation for protecting me like that. I am not sure many men would have done so much. But…” she looked down, clearly disturbed by something. “But how did you heal me?”

“It was not easy,” he admitted. “But I took the research that Doctor Madfyre had started and continued to improve it. It must seem silly to you to think of me working as a kind of scientist.”

“How did you know it would work?”

He hesitated briefly, but decided on the truth. “I was not sure that it would.”

Amberlyn looked up at him with a surprised expression on her face. “What do you mean?”

“My love, I am not sure you are ready for all of this. I think this would be a better topic for another day.” He smiled kindly at her.

“No,” she said firmly, which showed that her desire to know these details was much stronger than Silvester had figured.

“Alright. The serum
had
helped others that I tried it on, but it only cured them temporarily.”

“They became mad again?” Amberlyn asked.

“No. The serum would eventually kill them.”

Amberlyn put her hand over her mouth and gasped. “You…You killed them?”

“Not me,” he pleaded. “The serum. My intention was to help, not harm those patients.” He thought about The Beast of Bedlam and how that man was purposefully killed by him, but he was not going to bring that up. Nor Cecil or Exton.

“So when you injected me with the serum, it should have killed me?”

Shaking his head, he said, “No, not certainly. I had a near breakthrough on my previous attempt. The results were not as firm as I would have liked, but there simply was no time left. You see, my love, the situation was this: I knew my methods, if found out, would land me in jail and at that point my capture was imminent. So I took the risk to inject you before there was no chance. If the serum worked, then you would be healed and all would be well. If the serum did not work and it killed you, then that would be a better thing for you than to be left alone in that awful place.”

Amberlyn stared at the floor between them in silence. After several seconds, she said, “So the accounts I heard were true. You experimented on patients in order to try and help me.”

Silvester nodded enthusiastically, although she was still not looking at him. He was afraid to speak. This conversation had diverted to a precipice and he didn’t want to risk going over it.

She finally looked up at him with tears in her eyes and said, “Silvester, your care for me in the asylum was an amazing display of love. Your desire to see me healed, is, well, a very natural feeling. The fact that you actually healed me is something that I will be in debt to you for.”

“Please, Amberlyn, I would do it all again to be with you.”

Ignoring the comment, she continued, “However, your methods are beyond reproach. You
murdered
people, Silvester. And, you have made
me
the motivation, the reason, for those deaths!” Her voice was starting to rise, “Where is the man I loved? He would not have hurt anyone.”

Confusion was Silvester’s first reaction followed by being scared. She was saying awful things that frightened him as to what point she was heading towards. Why couldn’t she see that the end results justified the means? He was desperate. “Please, Amberlyn, do not talk like that. I had no choice.”

“You had a choice!” she was yelling now. “You could have chosen to not kill people. Oh God, Silvester, what have you done? You talk about the sacrifices you made for me, but I would have sacrificed for you too. I would have chosen to stay in that state of madness if it meant for you to not have turned into this.”

Silvester didn’t know what to say. He certainly had not looked at things that way.

“Guard!” she called out sharply.

“No, wait! Please don’t go!” Silvester pleaded.

The guard walked up and asked, “Is there a problem, miss?”

“No, I don’t believe there is,” Amberlyn answered. “I want you to witness this.” She then took the engagement ring off of her finger and placed it on one of the flat cross bars of the cell door. “Silvester, you were my first love. Many of your actions over the last several years I hold in the highest regards and am grateful. But you have changed. Your have become dark, menacing even. Consider our engagement broken.”

“Oh no! Please, no!”

With tears flowing from her eyes, she concluded, “I cannot love you anymore.” Without another word, she turned and walked quickly away with the guard by her side.

Silvester stood at the bars and watched her leave, still struggling to assimilate all that just happened. When she was out of sight, his eyes fell to the ring that she left on the crossbar. The symbol of his happiness returned.

Finally, a single phrase rung out in his mind,
she was gone
. With that crystal clear message surpassing all other thoughts, Silvester fell to his knees and wept bitterly.
She was gone.

47.

Charlotte Merrihail had hardly left her apartment for several days. After leaving the asylum, she went straight to her parent’s home and stayed the night under the warmth, love, and protection of family. The next day, and for days after, her time was devoted to one thing – writing her experience. There was so much to remember and she didn’t want to forget anything. Reliving the experiences in this way extended the grief, but by Friday, she had the first draft of her story. She knew it would need editing, but the heart of it was down and she no longer needed to worry about forgetting details.

When a telegram came that afternoon, she was a little surprised to see that it was from Sigmund Shaw. It was an invitation to lunch at his sister’s home the next day. Some of the old feelings of anger and hurt still lingered in her towards Sigmund, but she was determined to overcome it. Living her life with anger or regret was not something that she would abide any longer.

When she arrived for lunch on that Saturday, the welcome she received was very warm from Sigmund and his family. Charlotte immediately fell in love with Sarah – she was so bright, so funny, and brave. Charlotte saw a lot of herself in that young woman and was completely flattered by Sarah’s excitement at meeting her.

“Miss Merrihail,” Sarah asked, “how did you become a writer? I think that is something I would like to do.”

“Oh really?” Charlotte answered. “I think there should be more female writers. I stumbled into this line of work by complete accident. I simply wanted my husband’s story told accurately. Now, if I can do it on accident, I think you can certainly do it on purpose. I understand that you can be quite a determined person.”

Sarah beamed at the response and Sigmund said, “That is a brilliant idea, Sarah. You could be a tremendous writer. I wonder why we haven’t thought of that before.”

“You really think so, Uncle Sigmund?”

“Yes, I really do.” And he did.

At the end of a wonderful day of talking, laughing, and eating, Charlotte got up to leave. She thanked the family profusely and hoped to see them again. She promised to keep in regular touch with Sarah.

Sigmund walked her out and offered to give her a ride home in his carriage. He said she was welcome to sit in the cabin and did not need to ride up with him in the cold air. She was tempted but declined – her home was in the opposite direction of his and she didn’t want to bother him so.

“Sigmund,” she asked, “have you visited Basil?”

“I have. It looks like he will be released by the end of the month.”

“Really? Is this your doing?”

“No, not at all. He had a frank discussion with Doctor Madfyre and they agreed that he is completely safe to be on his own. They concluded that his ailment is understood and manageable going forward. How about you? Have you been able to go back?”

“I visited yesterday afternoon. I felt terrible showing up in normal, clean clothes while Jena and Anne are stuck wearing the dreary attire of that place. I brought them each a new dress and warm blankets. It is not a lot, but it is a start. I simply must get them out of there.”

“How is your article coming along?” Sigmund asked.

“It is not done, but the main parts are down in writing. A little tuning and editing and it will be ready. I never thought I would write something that was more important than the death of Edmund, but this could help so many…” her voice trailed off.

“I am certain it will be great. I know at least one person,” Sigmund indicated his sister’s house, “who can hardly wait to read it.”

“Sarah is such a sweet girl. I am very happy to have met her.”

A silence fell between them and she waited as it looked as if he had something more to say but was struggling. Speculating on what his thoughts were, she wondered if her own thoughts would comply. Finally, he spoke, “Miss Merrihail, Charlotte, you are a thoroughly remarkable woman. I would be humbled if you would agree to see me again.”

There it was. The potential beginning of a courtship. She looked right into Sigmund’s brown eyes and honestly did not know what to say. Part of her wanted to say ‘yes’ to him. Part of her still had anger. A last part felt a tinge of guilt towards her husband, as if she would be unfaithful or unloving to him by agreeing to see another man, whomever it may be.

“I hesitate,” she said, “because my emotions are very much jumbled inside of me. It is like my heart is dizzy and I’m not sure what direction is correct. Perhaps I could join you and your family again next week and we can revisit this topic then?”

Sigmund smiled at her response and said, “I think that would be perfect.”