Chapter 8
Dr Dryden’s son is called Charlie, and he suffers from several debilitating conditions: an aversion to sunlight so he can’t go outside, chronic anaemia, and insomnia. Since he has trouble sleeping at night, he naps for most of the day.
I learn this surprising, and somewhat distressing, information in Dr Dryden’s study a week later when I start my governess position. ‘So when am I to give him lessons if he’s napping all day, sir?’
Dr Dryden leans back in his chair and steeples his fingers. He surveys me intensely over the tips. ‘He’s up around dusk. You’ll need to work with him in the evening and nap during the day yourself.’
I’m confused by this reply. ‘Like a night shift?’
‘Exactly,’ he clarifies. ‘Think of everything as being in reverse. For instance, you’d read to him just before dawn.’
I blink at that. ‘If you don’t mind me saying so, sir, that sounds a little strange.’
Dr Dryden’s thick eyebrows draw together. ‘Strange, but something you think you can adapt to? Or too strange to even consider?’
I’m tempted to say the latter, but then I know that I’ll be shown the door, and I’ll have to explain to Aunty Ivy why I’m back. I can hear her voice now: Just try it, Floss. Think of the child’s needs ... and the money.
‘I suppose I could adapt,’ I say slowly. ‘I am a bit of a night owl, and your son can’t help being ill. It must be difficult for him.’
Dr Dryden’s demeanour visibly softens, and he smiles at me, but his eyes hold a tinge of sadness.
‘It is difficult for him ... and for me. Thank you for being so accommodating, Florence. Would you like to meet Charlie now?’
I glance at the clock on the mantel, which is coming up on noon. ‘Yes, but isn’t he asleep?’
‘I’ll wake him briefly, and then you can settle in. I had some food delivered yesterday, so you can see to your lunch.’
‘All right. Thank you, sir.’ He doesn’t seem to want me to prepare any lunch for him.
And I am highly curious to meet his son.
I think it’s mostly Dr Dryden’s impromptu health examination last time that has been worrying me.
But now I understand why it was necessary: Charlie is sickly, and his father doesn’t want me passing on an illness that he can’t fight off.
As we’re ascending the stairs, me clutching my battered suitcase of meagre belongings, I feel more confident about broaching the subject. ‘Excuse me for asking, sir, but has Charlie been like this for a while?’
‘Yes, his symptoms started a few years ago. His mother was similarly afflicted. Sleeping during the day is the only way that Charlie can function, which is why I encourage it. But his mother insisted on “living normally”, so to speak. Her system gradually weakened until she ... succumbed.’
Two steps ahead of me, he grips the banister tightly for a moment, then continues on up the carpeted stairs.
‘I’m so sorry for your loss, sir.’ How awful. Did something happen because she tried to go outside? I wonder.
‘Thank you, Florence. As it happens, I am working on a cure for Charlie.’
‘I hope you will be successful, sir,’ I say fervently.
We reach the top of the stairs, and he smiles down at me. I’m struck again by how handsome he is—and much too young to be a widower. ‘I think I am close to finding one, Florence. Which is why I need your help.’
‘Of course, sir. I’m glad to be of service.’
He nods. ‘I’ve put you in the room next door to Charlie.
Sometimes he has bad dreams and needs comforting.
I know it’s out of the scope of a governess’s duties, but as I conduct important experiments in my basement laboratory, I may be too busy to attend to him.
I trust that you do not mind? You would only need to hold his hand and speak softly to him, and he will go back to sleep after a few moments. ’
‘I don’t mind at all, sir.’
Poor little Charlie, he does sound in a bad way.
Now that I’m starting to get a feel for what’s required of me, I’m eager for us to get along.
I set down my suitcase outside Charlie’s room.
Dr Dryden inches open the bedroom door and beckons me to follow him inside, then closes it behind us promptly.
Charlie’s room is considerably darker than the other rooms in the house due to the tightly drawn drapes.
It’s so dark in here that I’m struggling to make anything out.
There’s a light floral scent that’s not unpleasant; it smells like rose water has been sprinkled around.
Taking a cautious step forward, I touch the edge of a rug with my foot and feel around in case there’s something there that might trip me up.
I consider asking Dr Dryden to light a candle, but as soon as I think that, his hand is placed on the small of my back.
He has touched my wrist previously, so it’s not too shocking.
But still ... it gives me a funny tingle in my lower belly.
‘Let me guide you,’ he whispers. ‘I would light a candle, but we will only be a minute.’
‘All right,’ I whisper back, thinking that he must have excellent eyesight as I can’t see a blasted thing.
We inch forward slowly in the darkness, like participants in a blind dance ritual. The ridiculousness of the situation strikes me, and I smother a giggle before it can erupt. How awful if I laughed now! He would think me terribly rude and unfeeling when his son is so ill.
We come to a halt, and by then, my eyes have adjusted a little so I can make out the shape of a bed.
I’m all at sea, but my searching fingers reach the comforting shore of a soft, plush bedcover.
As soon as I’m anchored, Dr Dryden removes his hand from my back and whispers to someone at the top of the bed.
There’s a rustling as a figure shifts beneath the cover, and a thin quavering voice calls out, ‘Is it evening, Papa?’
‘Shh now, not for a few more hours. But your new governess is here. Miss Hughes. I wish for you to meet her.’
There’s a silence for a few moments, as if Charlie is considering this.
‘Very well, Papa,’ he says wearily as if he would rather go back to sleep. ‘Please sit down, Miss Hughes, so I can look at you.’
Surprised by this request, I hesitate. Surely, there needs to be a candle lit for that to happen?
But Dr Dryden presses lightly on my shoulder, and I sink dutifully onto the side of the bed, my heart thumping in my ribcage.
After a moment, there’s more rustling. Then a pale face emerges out of the darkness, so close to mine that I can’t help but shrink back in fear. But for some reason, I can’t seem to move my limbs, they feel heavy as lead.
‘Don’t be alarmed, Miss Hughes. It’s just me, Charlie.’ The young boy’s voice is as smooth as silk. A cool hand strokes lightly on top of mine, and a feeling of calm laps at the edges of my nervousness. I take a breath. ‘Pleased to meet you.’
I strain to see him better, but Charlie’s features are indistinguishable, except for a pair of glinting eyes that seem to be inspecting me.
‘Yes, she will do, Papa,’ he murmurs at last, and the pale face dissipates into the darkness, and there’s further rustling as if he’s lying back down. ‘I will see you later this evening, Miss Hughes, for our lessons.’ There’s amusement in his tone.
‘Y-yes, of course,’ I stutter.
He yawns; then there’s complete silence.
Dr Dryden has remained quietly by my side throughout this exchange and now puts a hand under my elbow, inviting me to stand.
‘We’ll go now,’ he whispers in my ear.
Feeling as if I’m in a trance, I let him guide me across the room to the door. As soon as he opens it, I stumble through in a panic, feeling like I’m being watched. He closes the door promptly after us.
The dim landing seems almost brightly lit after the suffocating darkness, and I’m mightily relieved to be out of that nightmarish bedroom.
Without awaiting my opinion on what just transpired, Dr Dryden picks up my suitcase and gestures towards the door to the right of Charlie’s.
‘This is your room, Miss Hughes. You may spend the afternoon as you wish. But we will partake of supper together this evening. As I mentioned, my son and I usually dine out, but we will make an exception this once—to welcome you to our home.’
‘So Charlie will be joining us?’ I enquire, twisting the handle and lingering in the doorway.
‘Oh, yes. He told me he is looking forward to it,’ he replies, a small smile playing on his lips.
Did he? A shiver of unease rolls through me as I didn’t hear Charlie say anything of the sort.
‘Supper will be at six thirty sharp in the dining room.’
I nod, and Dr Dryden bids me good day, leaving me to my thoughts and mounting fears.
Thankfully, the thick curtains are open in this room, and a shaft of sunlight reveals a pretty bedroom decorated with rose wallpaper and a large comfortable bed with a cream satin coverlet.
But the lovely room does nothing to reassure me after the encounter I’ve just had with Charlie.
I sit there on the bed, clutching my suitcase with trembling hands. What on earth has Aunt Ivy got me into?