The Dark Between (26 page)

“Whereas I remain content with less complex organs and muscles.” Dr. Spring wired the young man’s leg and flipped the switch. Denny flinched, his leg jerking twice before settling into a persistent twitch.

“How do they endure it?” Asher asked. “It looks like torture.”

“It hurts like hell,” muttered Denny.

“Yes, yes, there is pain,” the doctor said quickly. “But the muscle responds.”

Asher watched Denny’s face redden, his leg still twitching, as Dr. Spring continued to apply the current. The longer he watched, the more his scalp prickled.
There’s something familiar about this
. He turned away, concentrating on the strange feeling. He’d certainly never seen electrotherapy performed before, and yet he could almost imagine someone describing it to him. Had it been Mr. Thompson? Dr. Marshall had not detailed the process during their prior conversations. But
someone
had told him of a body that trembled and jerked.

It came to him then—Elsie’s description of Billy shaking and jerking as a man stood over him. Billy’s complaints of a pain in his heart. Asher had seen the burn marks on the boy’s chest. Had Billy been electrocuted? He glanced at Dr. Marshall, but the man’s expression told him nothing.

When Dr. Marshall left the room to attend the bathing patients,
Asher stepped closer to the other doctor. “Dr. Spring, what if you …” He trailed off, unsure how to ask the question.

The man turned to look at him. “What if I what?”

“Dr. Marshall spoke of studying deaths by accidental electrocution. Has anyone
purposely
applied an electrical current directly to the heart?”

Dr. Spring blinked. “Yes, it’s been done. On animals, anyway. Always made me think of
Frankenstein
, you know? Of course, there’s no way to reanimate a corpse that’s been dead and buried for so long. That Shelley woman was writing pure fantasy.” He turned the machine off and removed the electrodes to massage the leg. “However,” he continued, “a pair of Swiss doctors applied electricity to a dog’s heart to disrupt the heartbeat—fibrillation is what it’s called. After the dog went into cardiac arrest, they applied another shock—defibrillation—to make the heart beat regularly again.”

Asher studied the pink marks on the man’s leg. “Has this procedure—fibrillation and defibrillation, I mean—been attempted on a living human?”

“If it has, no one would own up to it. Not unless he wished to go to prison,” said Dr. Spring with a chuckle. “Far too dangerous.”

Chapter 26

K
ate stood in her chemise before the open wardrobe. After considering her two blouses, she chose the cream one—it was proper enough, but too large and rather frayed at the elbows. It suited her wish to appear needy and tragic, and would pair well with the ugly brown skirt. She brushed out her hair, tying it back with a ribbon instead of making her usual plaits.

She studied her face in the mirror. Her skin was smoother now, not having felt the bite of the luminescent paint for nearly two weeks, but it was still pale. Her face was thin. Despite having enjoyed decent meals for several days, she still looked underfed and sorrowful. It would serve nicely.

That morning she had reported to work in the library as usual.

At two o’clock she’d complained of stomach pains. Miss Freeman glanced at her in annoyance, saying nothing. After her third complaint, Freeman murmured about the evils of indulgent kitchen staff. Miss Barrett, by contrast, offered to make her a cup of tea, which Kate refused as politely as possible. At a quarter of three, Kate rushed to the water closet, slammed the door shut, and made a noisy pretense of heaving her lunch
into the modern, shiny toilet. It seemed necessary to make corresponding splashes with her hand. After a moment she pulled the chain to flush the toilet, washed her hands, and ran cold water over her face to extend the dramatic effect. Clapping a still-wet hand over her mouth, she opened the door.

The two ladies stood a few paces away. Freeman took one look at her and pointed toward the main entrance. “Return to the Gatehouse at once or you’ll make us all ill.”

“Yes, miss,” Kate mumbled from behind her hand, clutching her hat with the other.

She’d returned to the Gatehouse as directed, but slipped silently up the stairs to make certain her appearance was perfect for that afternoon’s task. Once safely outside again she veered onto a side path and made her way to the unlocked side gate, continuing to Regent Street from there.

The Prince Albert was a stately, sprawling building situated by the lush green grass of Parker’s Piece. Kate studied it in silence, walking from one end to the other and peering through the windows in the most casual manner she could manage. She noted several windows in a row that seemed to look out from the same elegant room—a ballroom of sorts. This was what she needed.

When she entered the hotel she couldn’t help gawking at the massive electric chandelier. A young man in blue-and-gold livery immediately came to her side, his angular face sharpened further by indignation.

“If you’re here for work, you should use the side entrance.”

Kate drew herself up. “I have a message for one of your guests. She may be in the ballroom at the moment.”

“Do you mean the Oak Room?”

“Yes,” she said quickly. “I think she’s there, preparing for an event later today.”

He crossed his arms. “I don’t think—”

“I’ll find it myself,” she said, brushing past him.

He followed, shadowing her just as she’d expected.

The ballroom was at the opposite end of the lobby. In the middle of the grand oak-paneled room, a lady in an elaborate hat pointed at tables and gave orders to two young maids. Kate nodded toward her. “Is that Elizabeth Gardner?”

“That is indeed Mrs. Gardner,” the young man said.

“I have a note of introduction.”

He looked at her for a moment, rolled his eyes, and took the note from her hand. When Kate gestured once again at Mrs. Gardner, he squared his shoulders and walked toward the lady.

Kate knew this was the moment when matters could go pear-shaped, for her note of introduction was intended to throw the lady off her guard.

I am Frederic Stanton’s natural child. If you wish to avoid a scene—and I am very skilled at making them—you should find time this instant to speak privately with me. I only ask for ten minutes.

Mrs. Gardner opened the note impatiently. She did not frown, but Kate noticed a pucker forming between her eyes. Closing the note, Mrs. Gardner turned to the liveried attendant. “We’d appreciate a little time alone, if you don’t mind,” she said to him, her voice light and sweet.

He blushed and backed away.

Once he was out of hearing, Mrs. Gardner looked directly at her. Then she gestured for Kate to step closer.

She was the most elegant creature Kate had ever seen. Her suit of soft rose silk, adorned with rows of intricate braid on the bodice and hem, fit as though molded to her broad bosom and tiny waist. Her hat—a towering combination of bows, flowers,
and feathers—rested on softly poufed light-brown hair. Her brown eyes were almost inhumanly large in her fashionably pale face. As Kate came to stand before her, she felt dwarfed by the woman’s presence.

Mrs. Gardner tilted her head, considering her with a steely expression. “You have the look of my former husband.”

Kate couldn’t help herself. “Your
late
husband, you mean.”

That aristocratic eyebrow quirked. “Shall we sit down?” She gestured toward a table, her eyes fixed on Kate as she sank into her chair. The corners of her mouth lifted, but otherwise her expression was cold. “What is it you want from me, exactly?”

“I am an orphan in need of shelter,” Kate replied, not bothering to steady the tremor in her voice. “I’ve looked for honest work, but there are no suitable positions to be found in Cambridge.”

“There are institutions for children like you.”

Kate frowned. “I prefer to have my independence.”

“Are you asking me for money?”

“I only ask for what is due to me.”

Mrs. Gardner’s eyes narrowed. “Your father made no provision for you.”

“Perhaps he meant to but hadn’t the chance. He died rather suddenly.”

The woman shook her head. “I can offer you nothing. My husband wouldn’t allow it.”

Kate clenched and unclenched her hands under the table. She took a breath. “Then you give me no choice.”

Mrs. Gardner leaned forward, all trace of politeness gone. “And just how do you plan to blackmail me, you conniving little slut?”

Kate’s head snapped back as though she’d been slapped. She’d been called many horrible names, but never
that
. She
clenched her fists again, nails biting into her palms. “I will make it public that you’ve failed in your duty to help your husband’s orphaned child. I’m certain many will find my plight newsworthy.”

“And I will respond that you are an imposter, for I’m certain you have no proof of your paternity.”

“But … the scandal?”

“I have weathered many scandals. My
former
husband attracted them like a magnet.”

Kate blinked.

“Oh yes, little girl. No doubt you worshipped him as a handsome, heroic sort of
intellectual
man. But his obsessions were bizarre. That book of his—Thompson’s idiotic Ghost Society adored him for it, but the scientific community howled in derision. Maybe that’s what turned him to narcotics in his quest to lift the veil of the spirit world.”

Kate’s shoulders sank. “Narcotics?”

Mrs. Gardner waved her hand dismissively. “His young friend Dr. Marshall said he had neuralgic pain, that his death was an
accident
, but
I
knew what was going on.”

“What?” Kate knew she was losing her grip on this conversation, but she had to know. “
What
was going on?”

“He and his mad friends were accessing those ‘hidden powers of the mind,’ as they liked to say. That’s what killed him. I know it. His friends
and
enemies know it. It would have been easier to bear if he’d offed himself out of melancholy, but to deliberately overdose in order to reach a higher plane of consciousness? It was downright idiocy. There was a great deal of tongue wagging at the time.…” She paused, her gaze distant. “But that sort of thing always runs its course and people forget.” She focused again upon Kate. “Try all you like to stir up a little dust, but nothing will come of it. And rest assured that my
current husband knows people who can silence naughty blackmailers.”

Kate gasped.

“I endured your father’s failings for several years. But I have a different life now, and I’m proud to be William Gardner’s wife.” She grabbed Kate’s hand, clutching it so tightly that Kate winced. “There’s nothing you can do to hurt me. I’m not some gently born lady who faints and weeps at the first sign of trouble. I was an
actress
before I married your father—I’ve dealt with much worse than you could ever offer. Do you understand?”

The woman’s face was inches from hers, so close Kate could see the flecks of powder on her cheeks. She nodded slowly.

“Now, leave this place quietly.” Elizabeth Gardner’s sugary voice returned as she released Kate’s hand and settled back in her chair. “Or I will have my assistant escort you out the back way.” She gestured toward a shadowy man standing in the corner. Kate leapt to her feet, sending the chair screeching backward, and stumbled toward the door. She made it only as far as the lobby before the tears spilled down her cheeks.

It seemed fitting that she would encounter Mr. Thompson as she approached the Summerfield gate—everything else had gone wrong, why not this? Her face must have been a horror, for he stopped in his tracks.

“Child, whatever is the matter?”

She wiped her face with her sleeve, plundering her mind for a reasonable reply and coming up short.

Mr. Thompson took a step toward her, his eyes searching. “Ah, Kate. You went to see her, didn’t you? I could have told you it was a terrible idea.”

Kate moaned. “I couldn’t help myself.”

“I should have taken your query more seriously. Of course you’d wish to see her. She knew your father better than anyone, I suppose. How did she upset you?”

She couldn’t tell him the whole truth, for she couldn’t bear him knowing the nature of her scheme. “The lady was cold and cruel. She frightened me.”

He stepped closer and laid a hand on her shoulder. “There’s not a gentle bone in that woman’s body.” He patted her lightly, an awkward gesture but also sincere. “You should go to your room and rest. I’ll have Millie bring up a tray for your supper.”

“Please don’t tell Mrs. Thompson what I’ve done! She’ll think me so foolish.”

“Don’t worry a bit about it. I’ll explain to Helena and Elsie that you’re ill.”

Chapter 27

E
lsie had lain in the meadow with her art tutor, but never had she been so brazen as to travel across town in the dark of night to knock on a gentleman’s door and invite herself in.

But that was only due to lack of imagination.