Chapter Twenty-One #2
She released a shuddering breath. She could fix this.
She had to fix this. If what Eleonora said were true, her absolution didn’t come from man declaring her forgiven.
No priest was necessary, just an honest, prayerful talk with Christ. She could pray for forgiveness, be forgiven without a need to suffer here as her penance for the past, and start her life anew.
Then all she’d have to do was play Dr. Chalfant’s game.
She could deny her past as Katherine Yates and Constanza Brisbane if it meant escaping this prison and returning to Eleonora.
Besides, what did it matter if she no longer claimed herself as Constanza or Katherine?
She would never go back on a stage. Age had robbed her of her most important assets—beauty and voice.
Oh, she was passable, but she’d rather go out as an incomparable and not some old hag trying to resurrect her fame.
And with forgiveness, there was no need for anyone else to know about her past.
Winston and Ursula might still come, but her years of warning about their eventual return had been unheeded by all. If she still wished to protect Eleonora, she couldn’t do it from within these walls. Although, Constanza’s protection might not matter as much as it once did.
She eyed Mrs. Beaumont trailing behind them.
Her son had taken quite the shine to Eleonora, and by Eleonora’s clinging to him, a betrothal would be forthcoming.
When that happened, Eleonora would become safely ensconced in a new name and new life—with an opera man, of all people.
Oh, wouldn’t that set Marcellus’s coattails on fire.
All these years of denying his wife and daughter the music and life so dear to them, all in the name of safeguarding them, had failed.
It was like God had taken Constanza’s side and declared Eleonora belonged on the stage and provided a man who would not be frightened away by Constanza’s asylum stay.
As long as Eleonora took Mr. Beaumont’s name, even if Winston or Ursula saw her, they wouldn’t recognize her as the awkward, chubby-faced eleven-year-old they’d tried to steal away.
Perhaps things were not as bad as Constanza had originally thought.
It would be a long six months until her next evaluation, but she could convince Dr. Chalfant she was healed of her delusions.
She could join Eleonora and teach her how to navigate the business and cutthroat relationships of the opera world.
A laugh bubbled out at her brilliance. If everything went smoothly, she might even be released before Eleonora’s wedding.
Nurse Abbott stopped them before they reached the fourth-floor dormitory.
What now? All Constanza wanted to do was crawl into bed and dream of her daughter’s future while the effects from whatever they forced her to take wore off.
“You should know Dr. Chalfant intends on placing you in isolation if you cause even the slightest trouble.” Nurse Abbott folded her arms and gave a laughably stern look.
Constanza had seen smiles more frightening.
“I fought for you and Miss Davis to have this last visit. Do not make me regret it. You are Josephine Davis, not Constanza Brisbane or Katherine Yates. Get well so you can go home. Your daughter needs you. Do you understand me?”
“If I show improvement, will Eleonora be allowed to visit again?”
“I’m afraid not.”
“Then I have every intention of being fully healed within a month.”
Though obviously skeptical, Nurse Abbott gave a sharp nod. “Good.”
Unfortunately, when Nurse Ingram took over, an afternoon of rest was not part of Dr. Chalfant’s new plan to aid Constanza’s recovery. Instead, while Mrs. Beaumont enjoyed the warmth of her bed, Constanza was marched down four flights of stairs to the basement, where laundry duty awaited her.
So this was their plan for her moral reform?
Stripping her of her paid-patient privileges and assigning her chores that would tire her beyond the capacity for rebellion?
If that’s what they thought would leave her more pliable to accepting their so-called truths, so be it.
The soft chores of sweeping and dusting had made her weak and lazy, and she’d regain her strength and stamina by these harsher chores.
Then she’d be able to meet the demands of a traveling stage life with Nora.
The odors of lye and rank body mixed with the damp heat of the vast room.
It didn’t take long to understand why a room meant for cleaning would smell so foul.
Sweat poured from all the usual places plus some she’d rather not think about.
Only ten minutes into the chore, and her arms trembled from the exertion of pushing large batches of linens around in the water with the long washing paddle.
How long did they expect her to do this?
While she didn’t want to claim being old, surely this was a duty best done by patients much younger than she.
At least the activity worked to quickly dispel the remaining fog of medicine. She held back a grumble as an attendant dumped a giant mass of linens atop her paddle. She worked it free of the tangle and pushed the floating material to the bottom.
“This is the laundry room, where state patients earn their keep.”
Constanza stopped her dreaded task and watched the nurse entering with a curious tourist behind her.
It was a humiliating practice, this allowing sightseers to tour asylums and observe those locked inside.
Society claimed it helped draw awareness to the plight of invalids and promoted social reform programs, but Constanza knew better.
Inmates were a curiosity meant to entertain and shock the observer’s senses.
The number of visitors had dwindled over the years, but almost every one behaved the same.
The residents were openly examined, pitied, and derided as if they had no understanding.
Nurse Charity—who insisted on using her given name as some sort of symbol of her piety—had been ill-named by her parents.
Instead of being a pillar of Christian values, she took perverse enjoyment in bringing tourists directly to Constanza and requiring her to sing for them.
By the way she scanned the room until she spotted Constanza, it appeared she intended to do it again.
Well, Constanza would not perform. Today, and every day from here forward, she would maintain the life Marcellus had created for her as Josephine Davis.
She stood straighter and awaited Nurse Charity.
However, when Nurse Charity entered the room far enough for her guest to follow, Constanza shrank back.
Winston strolled next to her, a malicious one-sided smile declaring his victory.
Twenty-five years since she’d seen his face—before she’d left England—and still she knew it without hesitation.
He’d done the impossible. He’d found her, and this time there would be no escaping with a new name to a new city.
Nurse Charity waved toward Constanza. “This is Mrs. Josephine D—”
“No!” He couldn’t know her new name. It would make finding Eleonora too easy.
“Oh, excuse me. Which is it today? Constanza Brisbane or Katherine Yates?” She lifted a hand to hide her speaking but didn’t bother to lower her voice. “You might want to keep ahold of your valuables, sir. If she’s chosen to be Katherine Yates today, she might try to steal from you as she sings.”
“I’ll be sure to keep a tight hold on what is mine, but perhaps she should be more concerned with what is hers.”
Constanza didn’t have to see the glee in his face to know exactly what he meant, and she wouldn’t allow him to even set eyes on Eleonora.
She yanked the paddle free of the wet linens and swung with all the strength her arms had left.
It slammed against the side of his head, knocking him into Nurse Charity.
Constanza didn’t give him the chance to regain his footing but lifted the paddle above her head and crashed it down on him again. He fell to the floor.
Nurse Charity’s shrill whistle blew. Constanza only had seconds before the orderlies would pile atop her.
She pounced on Winston’s chest and wrapped her hands around his throat, shaking his neck as she did so.
His fingers wrapped around hers, easily pulling them loose enough to breathe, but he didn’t stop her shaking him.
On the contrary, he exaggerated it and even made it appear she did him more harm than possible.
He writhed beneath her, but with how easily his movements lifted her, he could have tossed her off without any trouble.
The expression of horror and struggle were fake.
While she fought with all her heart to save her daughter, he made a show of it.
Realization hit too late. She’d fallen victim to his plan and sealed her fate.
He must have seen her understanding, because he lifted his head enough for her to be the only one to hear his words. “Don’t worry. Ursula and I will take good care of Nora Davis. If you’re lucky, you might even see her one more time before you both meet your ends.”
No. He couldn’t know. But somehow he did. A surge of fury gave Constanza new strength, and his fingers failed to loosen her grip. She leaned her whole weight into choking him. “I’ll die before I let you hurt her.”
He slapped at her hold, his face turning red. Almost. A few moments longer . . .
A horde of orderlies descended upon her, yanked her off him, and slammed her to the floor.
No! Not yet! I’m not finished.
Winston rolled to his knees, making a show of gasping for breath, but turning his head enough for her to see his malicious victory.
She flailed and fought to reach him, screaming what, she knew not.
Anything to get the orderlies to realize he was the one she’d so long feared.
He was the one who needed to be locked up.
But more hands joined the others, forcing her flat until she could no longer move.
A sharp pain jammed into her arm, and the sensation of a foreign liquid spread from the spot.
“No!”
She couldn’t lose this battle. Not when she desperately needed to warn Marcellus that their worst nightmare had arrived.
Nurse Charity aided Winston to his feet. “I’m so sorry. She’s never been violent for me before. I’ll take you straight to Dr. Chalfant so your injuries can be examined.”
He shook his head, then winced. “No, it’s my fault. I should have known her nature the moment I saw her. My purposes in coming have been accomplished. If you’ll show me out, I have an appointment to keep with a young woman.”
“Leave her out of this!” Constanza attempted to lunge at him, successfully knocking one orderly from her leg. She kicked at the others, desperate for one more chance to stop Winston. “It’s me you want! Me!”
“Get another dose! She’s too riled for only one.”
Feet pounded away as the orderly regained his position on her leg.
Winston faced her and exhibited mock pity. “I feel for the family. I cannot imagine the suffering they must endure. Tell me, what will happen to her?”
“She’ll be kept in isolation and sedated until she’s no longer a danger.”
“Good.” His attempt at pity slipped into satisfaction. “I would hate for anyone else to be harmed by her.”
“I can personally promise she will see no one but attendants and the four walls of her cell for quite some time.”
“Even better. Good day, Katherine. Until we meet again.” Winston dipped his head, then followed Nurse Charity out.
“You have to stop him! You can’t let him go!” The fight was draining from her, but she couldn’t surrender. With one last heave she knocked the orderlies from one arm and shoved against the other two.
Someone grabbed her flailing arm, and a second needle pierced her skin. But it didn’t matter. She had nothing left. Darkness closed in on her, and the only thought she could hold on to was that Eleonora would once again be the one to suffer for her failure.