The Dark Between (36 page)

Aunt Helena stared at her for a long moment, and Elsie returned her gaze without blinking. Finally the woman’s shoulders sagged. “Perhaps it will come back to you in time. But in the end, it may be best if it does not.”

“Maybe so.”

My camera
, Elsie thought.
I must ask Kate to retrieve it
.

“You really must rest,” her aunt said briskly. “But first there are two people outside who are quite eager to see you. Are you up to it?”

“May I have a moment first?” Elsie reached for the mirror and brush on the bedside table. “I don’t want to frighten them with my appearance.”

“I’ll send them in shortly. You must not let them stay too long, however.” Her aunt smiled and withdrew, closing the door softly behind her.

Elsie studied her face in the mirror. The bruise on her forehead was an angry red, the cut just starting to scab. She brushed out her hair and tried to pull a section forward to cover the bruise. Unfortunately, it covered her eye as well. She frowned, rearranging the hair.

The back of her neck prickled.

She turned to the door, expecting to see her aunt. But the door was still closed. There was no one in the room but her.

And yet she felt someone.
Simon
. He was in her head somehow, almost as he had been in the old lab.

“Simon?” she whispered.

She could almost smell him, feel his warmth as though he embraced her. If she opened her mind, would she hear his voice?

A knock at the door made her jump. She set the brush on the table and took a deep breath. “Yes?”

The door opened slowly and Kate peered around the edge. “May we come in?”

Elsie forced a smile. “Of course.”

Asher followed Kate through the door and placed a second chair next to Elsie’s bed. The two sat, both looking quite pale with weariness. Their bright eyes, however, were expectant.

Asher leaned forward. “How are you feeling?”

“Better than I look,” Elsie murmured, lightly touching the bruise on her forehead. “What did you learn in Dr. Marshall’s rooms?” She was stalling, but she hardly knew what to say when her thoughts were such a jumble.

“We read through his files,” Asher said, glancing at Kate. “It’s not him. He’s collected a great deal of anecdotal evidence, and he’s thought about using electrical shocks to access the subliminal self. But his notes made it clear he’d never put someone’s life in danger to do it.”

“So it was all for nothing,” Elsie said.

“We want to know what happened with
you
,” said Kate impatiently.

Elsie swallowed hard. It would be so easy to tell them what she’d told her aunt, to simply plead that she couldn’t remember. Neither of them had especially liked Simon, and she could already imagine Asher’s condescending smile when he learned the
terrible things the man had done. And then there was Tec—how could she explain his involvement to Kate? She’d already mourned his death.

“I’m sorry … my head aches so.”

Kate took a breath. “Elsie, they found a body in the old lab.”

“What?” Her stomach convulsed. “Who is it?”

“It’s burned so badly, we may never know,” said Asher.

Elsie pressed a hand to her mouth.

Simon is dead
.

Just now … had she felt his spirit?

Her other encounters with the dead had been a slow fall into cold, dark terror. This had been different. Warmth and comfort instead of fear.

Was
this
what Simon had felt when haunted by his Amy—an abiding presence so tender and reassuring that he never could forget? Never let go? Elsie’s head began to throb. She had prompted his death, she had goaded Tec into setting the lab on fire, and yet Simon’s spirit was warm and forgiving. That was what she had felt, wasn’t it? A loving presence?

Kate put a hand on her arm. “Elsie?”

“I …” Elsie’s throat thickened as tears pooled in her eyes.

“Go on.” Kate’s voice was gentle, trusting.

“The body in the old lab,” Elsie sobbed. “It’s Simon Wakeham.”

They stared at her in pained silence.

Finally Asher spoke. “How?”

“It’s my fault. He wanted me to help him contact his lost love. He did so many terrible things, hurt so many people, all because he was trying to find a way to her.” Sobs were racking her body, and she could barely draw sufficient air into her lungs. “I found him in the lab—I was terribly afraid. But I can’t … I mean I don’t—” She nearly choked on the words. “I’m sorry … I’m so sorry. It’s my fault he’s dead.”

Chapter 40

O
nce Mrs. Thompson was fetched, Kate quietly ushered Asher out of the room. In truth, she was relieved to close the door on the spectacle of Elsie’s tears. She could muster no proper response to the girl’s confusion, nor any comforting words to soothe her sobbing. Foremost on her mind was the need to understand, but Elsie was in no shape for further questions.

“Come to my room,” said Kate. “We need to talk about this.”

Asher frowned. “Are you sure?”

“Do you really think anyone cares right now?”

Nevertheless, Kate left the door open a few inches. Indicating the desk chair for him to sit, she perched on the edge of her bed. “You were right about Simon Wakeham.”

He shook his head. “There was a time when I wanted to be right, but now … I’m not so sure. Elsie could have died.”

“It must have been Wakeham who caught Billy searching out details for Martineau’s séance. He pressured Billy to find a poor soul for his experiment. But when Billy tried to use this information for blackmail, he silenced him. That’s what it looks like, right? And all for the love of a dead woman. It all fits, I suppose. And yet … I can’t quite believe him capable.”

“You know I didn’t like him, but it wasn’t because I thought him a bad person.” The chair creaked as Asher slumped back. “He
was
concerned with what happens to us after death. In fact, he seemed quite keen to prove that something essential remains even when the physical body has died.” He paused to rub his eyes. “I suppose that’s what these ‘experiments’ were truly about.”

“He was more interested in Dr. Marshall’s research than he let on,” Kate said. “When my father died and Marshall refused to endanger anyone else’s life, Wakeham must have decided to take matters into his own hands.”

“And in the end it killed him.” Asher sighed. “This isn’t going to be easy for Elsie.”

“She may remember more in time.”

“And how would it help us if she did? Are you prepared to share all this with the Thompsons? With the police? Wakeham is dead. He can’t hurt anyone else.”

“I still want to know.”

“You’re torturing yourself, Kate. You already know who killed Billy and Tec. There was nothing you could do to prevent what happened,” he added gently.

“Then why do I feel as though I’ve failed them?”

He studied her for a moment. “You are the most maddeningly independent soul I’ve ever known. But when you let someone be a friend, you turn fiercely protective.” He smiled. “I’ve seen how you care for Elsie, and I admire it. I know you were loyal to Billy and Tec. But
they
were just as independent as you, Kate, and their choices led them into danger. You can’t hold yourself responsible for that.”

Kate started to protest, but the shadows under Asher’s eyes made her pause. “You look tired.”

“I’m exhausted. We both need rest.” He stood. “We’ll talk more later, but we mustn’t push Elsie too hard.”

“I know, I know.” With a groan Kate rose from the bed to meet him at the door. Without thinking, she reached out to rub a dark smudge from his cheek. He flinched slightly but did not push her hand away.

“Sorry,” she murmured. “Just a bit of soot.”

He looked down, his lashes hiding his eyes. “Thanks, Kate.”

The room felt very empty once he’d gone.

The next morning Mrs. Thompson brought a selection of heavy volumes to Kate’s room. “Why don’t you read to Elsie? That way you can visit with her in a restful way.”

Kate picked Dickens’s
Bleak House
because its title page featured a drawing that reminded her of Castle End. She’d hardly made it through the first paragraph, however, before she lost her footing.

London. Michaelmas Term lately over, and the Lord Chancellor sitting in Lincoln’s Inn Hall. Implacable November weather. As much mud in the streets, as if the waters had but newly retired from the face of the earth, and it would not be wonderful to meet a Megalosaurus, forty feet long or so, waddling like an elephantine lizard up Holborn Hill
.

Kate closed the book. “I won prizes for reading back in school, but this may be too much for me.”

“You don’t have to read, Kate. We could just talk.”

“You’re supposed to be resting. I’ll push on until we find the house and learn what makes it so bleak. There’s a chilling sketch of it opposite the title page.”

There was no house, however. Just a lawsuit that apparently had dragged on for centuries. By the fifth page she was sounding out words without comprehending them, but she doggedly pressed on until she reached a dreary woman named Lady Dedlock.

“I say I am afraid,” says Mr. Tulkinghorn, who has risen hastily, “that Lady Dedlock is ill.”

“Faint,” my Lady murmurs, with white lips, “only that; but it is like the faintness of death. Don’t speak to me. Ring, and take me to my room!”

“Please … just stop,” Elsie said.

Kate glanced at her over the book. “Are you ill? You’ve gone pale.”

Elsie shook her head, but her eyes filled with tears. Kate pulled a handkerchief from her pocket. “Here. It’s clean.”

Elsie wiped her eyes. Then she refolded the handkerchief, smoothing the edges carefully. “Thank you.”

“Were you thinking of Simon Wakeham?”

Elsie sniffled. “I’m so confused.”

“Of course you are.” Kate softened her tone. “You have a head injury. And you cared for him, didn’t you?”

After a moment Elsie nodded.

“He seemed a fine gentleman … at first, anyway. I could see why you might take a shine to him. But I do wonder how you fell so deeply for him, and so quickly.”

“My heart acts independently of my head.” Elsie turned to stare at the ceiling, her brow furrowed. “I never told you why I ran away to London, although Asher must have guessed it. I’m sure he saw him at the British Museum, before he ran away.”

“Before
who
ran away?”

“My art tutor—my only friend at Peverel Place. He was
my …” She trailed off, biting her lip. “He’s the one who taught me how to use a camera, you see. I thought I loved him, but it was all foolishness. Deep down I knew his passion did not match my own. But as I said, I am led by my heart.”

“My mother was the same way, I think,” Kate said. “She was a fool about my father. She must have known he wouldn’t marry her. I’ll never understand why she continued to hope they would be together even after he married that wretched woman.” She shook her head. “Why do women think they need a man to be happy? Shouldn’t children matter just as much, if not more?”

“Yes. Of course they should,” Elsie said. “But the craving for a man’s attention can be so strong, no matter how shabbily a woman is treated. Why is that? Why do some men have that power?”

“Is it really about the man?” Kate paused to ponder this. “For some, I think it’s more a yearning for escape and independence.”

Elsie frowned. “Really?”

“I thought a lot about this that night I sat by your bed. You know, when you went to Wakeham’s house and … suffered your disappointment.”

“Go on, then,” Elsie said. “Tell me what else you thought that night.”

“Are you certain you’re not too tired? I don’t want Mrs. Thompson annoyed with me.”

“I think I need to hear this, Kate.”

“All right.” Kate tilted her head, considering Elsie carefully. “From the time of your first seizure, I think you’ve felt like a changeling in your family. Your father considers you damaged beyond repair. Your mother is deathly afraid of what you know. I imagine it’s hard for her to even meet your gaze. Am I correct?”

Elsie nodded slowly.

“But
men
. They notice you, don’t they? You’re beautiful and they long to protect you. To possess you. And you enjoy their attention. When they offer you love, you’re quick to take it because the people who are
supposed
to love you find you threatening.” Kate glanced at the bottles on Elsie’s desk. “And when that doesn’t work, you take Chlorodyne to blot it all out. You nearly blotted yourself out a few days ago.”

“That was a horrible night.”

“Yes, it was.” Kate took a deep breath before continuing. “And then there’s Asher. He’s obviously smitten with you, but you pretend not to see it. Except when you need him, like that night you invited him to the Fitzwilliam Museum. Did you think I didn’t notice how you looked at him? Why do you string him along only to push him away?”

Elsie’s face crumpled. “I
don’t
string him along.”

“Well then, why do you fling yourself at inappropriate men and ignore the worthy ones?” Kate pressed. “Asher can be rude at times, but he’s a steady one. He has a good heart.”

“I know he does.” Elsie wiped her face with the handkerchief and sighed. “I’m not an idiot, after all. I like him awfully, but I just don’t have
those
feelings for him.”

“Maybe he needs to understand that?”

Elsie nodded slowly, withdrawing once more into herself.

Kate retrieved the book and pretended to find her place. She’d been on comfortable ground discussing Elsie’s wayward heart, but once the subject turned to Asher her stomach had soured to the conversation.

A light knock came at the door.

“Yes?” Elsie’s voice seemed to come from far away.

The door opened slowly, and Asher peered through.

“Mrs. Thompson said I’d find you both here. May I come in?”