Chapter Seventeen
DR. CHALFANT MUST HAVE TAKEN it as a personal affront that Constanza had invented a third personality.
Either that or he was in league with Satan and determined to keep her trapped in a cage of guilt and shame.
Those were the only possible explanations for why he refused to send for a priest, even though service was occurring in the chapel behind the grand rotunda even as they spoke.
“If you would just send for the priest so I could confess my sins!” She sat forward, desperate for him to take her seriously.
“You have no sins to confess except to admit you fabricated Katherine Yates.” Dr. Chalfant sat back in his chair and stared at her over his tented fingers with those beady eyes that cared for nothing but his reputation.
“You are Josephine Davis. Not an opera singer either here or in England, nor have you ever been a jewel thief.”
“How would you know? You know nothing except what my husband has told you, and we concocted that story to hide my past lives for the sake of our daughter.”
“He has provided me your whole history, Mrs. Davis, and there is no reason not to believe him. You were born in London, immigrated with your parents to New York during your teen years, worked at a restaurant after they died, then met and married Mark Davis, with whom you had one daughter two years later.”
Yes. Yes. She knew the story, all except that restaurant bit. What had Marcellus been thinking to add that detail? “I haven’t cooked more than a handful of meals in my lifetime, and all of them either poisoned someone or were so charred not even the fire would eat it.”
“He never claimed you were the cook, merely a server, but it was a fine occupation for a woman alone in the world, just as wife and mother are honorable and worthy titles. You don’t need to create something more of yourself than what you are. There is no shame in being Josephine Davis.”
“It’s my past that is shameful. That is why I need a priest. I have to confess it, or I’ll never be forgiven!”
Dr. Chalfant shook his head. “I cannot allow you to create a whole history for these fantasies. I suspected allowing Miss Davis to visit you and to pretend to take lessons from you was detrimental to your health, and it is to my shame I did not end them sooner.”
She sucked in a breath. He couldn’t mean what she thought. “Please, tell me you do not intend to end her visits.”
“For the sake of your health, I fear I must. It will be hard on her, but she will thank me when you return home well and sound of mind.”
Constanza shot to her feet. “No! You cannot. I must see her. I must know she is safe. I promise not to teach her to sing again.” It would kill her, but she needed to see Eleonora and listen for clues of Winston and Ursula.
“Have a seat, Mrs. Davis, and calm yourself.” He waited with raised eyebrows.
She obeyed, but everything in her buzzed with the urgency to convince him he would be wrong to end her visits.
Satisfied with her compliance, he continued.
“A cessation of the singing lessons is not enough. Her visits unsettle you, and now you insist you’ve sung all over England and robbed the wealthy of their jewels while doing so.
You are not well, and you will never get well until you relinquish these delusions. ”
“They’re not delusions! It’s the truth!” She was on her feet again, pacing and wringing her hands.
What else was she to do? The guilt and shame closed in on her, shrinking the room.
If she did not pace to remind herself of the room’s actual size, the feeling would suffocate her.
“It’s why I need the priest. I stole those jewels, and when I was caught, a girl died.
I am responsible. I didn’t stop Xavier. Her death is on my head. ”
“Another villain, and now you are claiming murder?” His lips thinned before he looked past her to Nurse Ingram.
“Mrs. Davis is overwrought, and her mind is delving into darker, more dangerous places. We must cool her inflamed nerves before she incurs serious damage. Take her immediately to the shower room.”
Not that humiliation. Constanza backed into an empty corner.
She hated the shower room. She preferred ice baths.
At least those only lasted a few minutes.
To be taken to the shower room meant she’d be stripped bare and sprayed with cold water until her teeth chattered and the stream from the hose knifed her skin with icy pinpricks.
“Once she quiets sufficiently, start a regimen of cold wet packs from head to toe to ensure she remains quiet and cooperative.”
“I don’t need a wet pack. I’ll be quiet and cooperative without it.”
Wet packs might not be as torturous as the showers or ice baths—some even looked forward to them, but not her.
She hated them. Nurse Ingram took delight in the humiliation of Constanza’s exposed nakedness and would make her stand shivering on the cold floor while she dragged out the preparation like an overly dramatic death scene.
Nurse Ingram would soak the sheet in an ice bath—making the sheet far colder than Constanza ever saw done for anyone else—then fail to fully wring it out.
Constanza would eventually be forced to lie on the cold, wet sheet and be wrapped tighter than an Egyptian mummy from collarbone to toes.
With the orders of head to toe, another wet towel would be wrapped around her head and a wet napkin placed over her throat.
Other sheets would be tucked over and around her, preventing her from doing anything more than rolling to her side.
The confinement was awful and didn’t calm her in the least.
Dr. Chalfant ignored her. “Start with an hour. If she is not sufficiently compliant, then you may stretch it up to three.”
Three hours? Dread coursed through her, for Nurse Ingram would do nothing less than the longest allowed. With that duration in the packs, Constanza’s very bones would chill, and her mind would be left too numb to function.
“Afterward, she is to be sufficiently exercised before returning to her bed. When not resting, she is to recite or copy the truths of who she is and what her past has been. I’ll give more consideration to her needs and provide you with a more thorough treatment plan this evening.”
“Yes, Doctor.” As soon as Dr. Chalfant could not see her demeanor, Nurse Ingram approached Constanza with wicked glee. Already the plans for Constanza’s suffering were whirling into formation. “Come along quietly. I’d hate to have to call an orderly to assist.”
Despite the claim, she bent a finger painfully backward as she grabbed Constanza’s hand.
Constanza restrained the temptation to yell and fight back. To do so would give Nurse Ingram the pleasure of winning.
Nurse Ingram pressed harder until Constanza had no choice but to cry out in pain and fight, lest she end up with a broken finger. She yanked her hand back to relieve the pressure, then lunged forward and knocked Nurse Ingram to the floor.
Constanza whirled toward Dr. Chalfant. “You can’t let her take me. She wants to hurt me.”
“No one wants to hurt you.” Dr. Chalfant skirted his desk, slow and calculating in his approach.
“Lies! None of you care for the truth! I am who I say I am. All I want is a priest. Why is that so wrong?”
Nurse Ingram regained her feet.
She and the doctor herded Constanza into the corner.
Monsters, both of them. Just like Winston, Ursula, and Xavier.
She lunged with her nails aimed like claws.
Dr. Chalfant caught her arm, swung her around, and pressed her against the wall. “You will either go willingly, Mrs. Davis, or I will place you in isolation, and I know how much you hate isolation. Which shall it be?”
A sob rose in her throat. Why? Why was she being denied the simple request of a priest?
When she didn’t immediately answer, he directed Nurse Ingram to where he kept the medication that always preceded isolation.
“No!” Constanza choked out. “I’ll go.”
“There’s a good girl. Now tell me who you are.”
“Josephine Davis.”
“What about Constanza Brisbane and Katherine Yates? Who are they?” He waited a beat before giving her an emphatic shake. “Who are they?”
A lie would save her, but the truth was necessary. She couldn’t keep adding to her guilt. “My past lives.”
“No, Mrs. Davis. They are lies you’ve told yourself.” He sighed and transferred her to Nurse Ingram’s care. “Take her to the shower, and bring an orderly with you to hold her in place. I must consult with other, more experienced doctors about her care before I decide our next steps.”
Nurse Ingram wrenched one of Constanza’s arms at an uncomfortable angle and forced her toward the shower room. “Don’t think that little stunt won’t go unpunished. Dr. Chalfant didn’t say how long the shower should be. Seems to me you need extra long.”
A whimper slipped out at the thought of enduring hours of cold from a shower and wet pack. “All I wanted was a priest.” She’d said it to herself, but Nurse Ingram was more than happy to further crush her.
“Not even God Himself can save your crazed soul. Insanity isn’t welcome in heaven.”
Constanza hadn’t thought it true, not after Mrs. Beaumont’s words, but now she wondered.
Maybe this was her punishment from God. Why else would He keep her from the one who could grant her the forgiveness she so desperately needed?
Had she already been condemned to this hell on earth and then the one beyond?