Chapter 23 #2
Stage Seven was intended to determine the long-term effects of repeated exposure to the subject.
The subject returned after an absence of time.
I have recorded immediate physiological irregularities upon seeing him again.
Restlessness during the subject’s absence appears to have been more severe than previously estimated.
Symptoms included disrupted sleep, elevated pulse, and persistent agitation that ceased only when the subject reappeared.
The subject initiated physical contact again and I…responded again. The intensity of the response exceeded that of previous stages. It is noted that rational processing was briefly suspended. This is a significant breach of experimental neutrality.
Attempts to terminate the experiment were unsuccessful.
The subject refused termination and in the act of stage seven we displayed heightened emotional engagement.
I was unable to maintain distance when contact resumed.
I cannot determine whether this was due to external pressure or internal failure of discipline.
The subject asked when the next meeting would occur. But since the stages have been met, there is no need for us to meet. And yet, I was unable to provide a definitive answer. This uncertainty is problematic. It suggests a loss of control over both variables and self-regulation.
My notes for Stage Seven are disorganized and lack the clarity of earlier entries.
Several lines had to be rewritten due to compromised handwriting.
I am experiencing difficulty maintaining objectivity when documenting the subject’s behavior, voice, or physical proximity.
The subject’s influence appears to extend beyond the immediate environment, persisting even after separation.
The experiment is no longer producing measurable scientific data. The variables have become unstable. My responses to this specific subject are inconsistent with expected outcomes. Stage Seven indicates a complete collapse of observational detachment and a slow decline into hysteria.
I must discontinue the experiment entirely, but my body rejects this idea. Continued exposure to the subject may result in further deterioration of scientific judgment and ruin.
I must avoid recalling him and what took place at Hawthorne House. I must avoid recalling the carriage, his bed, his bruises, his nakedness, and the way he unraveled me with his tongue. I must avoid recalling the way he said my name.
And I must, without delay, avoid recalling our consummation.
Theodora sat at the breakfast table and tried to keep her ink-stained fingers still on her lap, but her hands wouldn’t stop trembling. Her last observation and her conversation with her mother left her feeling hollow and stretched thin, as though one wrong word might make her shatter.
She bowed her head slightly; eyes fixed on the empty plate before her. She did not pray often. She had never been particularly good at it. But now, with her heart pounding and her stomach twisted into knots, she whispered a plea so soft it barely left her lips.
“Please… help my mother. Help me. And protect us from his wrath.”
The breakfast room was too quiet and the only sound to be heard was the soft ticking of the clock on the mantelpiece. A painful reminder of time.
Finally, Theodora heard footsteps approaching. But to her dismay it was her father who entered the room first.
He looked as he always did in the mornings. Impeccably dressed, hair neatly combed, expression stern and unreadable. But today, something in his eyes made her spine stiffen. His eyes were sharp and suspicious.
“Theodora,” he said, taking his seat at the head of the table. “You are awake early.”
She forced a polite smile. “Yes, Father.”
He studied her. “You look tired.”
“I did not sleep well.”
“Hm.” He reached for his tea. “Where is your mother?”
Theodora’s throat tightened. “I… I am not sure.”
Her father frowned. “She is never late for breakfast.”
Theodora pressed her knees together beneath the table, trying to keep her body still. “Perhaps she is unwell.”
“Unwell?” he repeated, as though the word offended him. “She was perfectly fine last night.”
Theodora swallowed nervously and reached for a piece of bread. “People can become unwell overnight.”
Lord Dowell set his cup down heavily and made Theodora jump in her seat.
“Do not get smart with me, girl.”
“I was not—”
“Is there something you wish to tell me?” he cut her off.
Theodora’s breath caught. “No, Father.”
“Look at me when I am talking to you!”
She tore her eyes away from her plate and looked at him. He leaned back in his chair, eyes narrowing at her.
“You are behaving strangely.”
Theodora felt her pulse quicken. “I am simply tired.”
He didn’t believe her. She could see it in the way his jaw tightened, and his fingers tapped restlessly. An awkward silence stretched between them. Theodora’s stomach churned and a wave of nausea washed over her.
Surely, Mother would not leave me with him.
But she imagined that her mother was just as upset with her as she was with her father. Afterall, Theodora kept his secret for so long; anyone would feel betrayed. Her heart shattered. Theodora accepted her fate and allowed the guilt to eat away at her.
“Are you just going to sit there?” Her father’s annoyed voice brought her back to reality.
“Get up and go find your mother!” he spat.
“Y…yes, Father.” Theodora pushed away from the breakfast table and got up on unsteady legs.
“That will not be necessary.”
Her mother’s voice stilled her. Theodora closed her eyes and thanked the heavens that she was not abandoned but her hope was dashed when she opened her eyes and Lady Dowell appeared in the doorway.
Her mother had her travel cloak on and a small suitcase in her hand.
It was the usual attire she wore before escaping to Bath, but Theodora knew that this time she was not going on a short journey or to dip her toes in the healing waters.
A tear escaped her eye, and she wiped it away before anyone noticed.
“My dear, are you—”
Theodora’s head whipped around to her father.
“I am not your dear.” Lady Dowell cut him off coldly.
Lord Dowell froze halfway from his chair.
“What is the matter, Diana?”
As he rose slowly, Theodora noticed how his fists curled at his sides.
“I will not stay in the same house as you,” her mother said behind her.
The words struck the room like a thunderclap and seemed to slap her father across the face. His cheeks reddened and his beady eyes glanced at Theodora threateningly then.
Theodora’s breath stopped.
“What did you say?” her father frowned.
“You heard me, Benjamin!” Lady Dowell’s voice rose an octave.
Theodora slowly turned her gaze back to her mother and her heart broke when she saw the pain and betrayal in her green eyes.
Despite her emotions, Lady Dowell stepped fully into the room; chin lifted the way Theodora lifted hers before debating with someone. Unlike her father, her mother’s hands trembled at her sides.
“I said I will not stay in the same house as you,” she repeated haughtily.
“Have you lost your senses?” Lord Dowell roared.
“No,” Lady Dowell said steadily. “I have finally regained my sense.”
Theodora’s heart pounded so loudly she could barely hear them.
“Explain yourself, Diana.”
Lady Dowell’s gaze flicked briefly to Theodora, just for a heartbeat, and Theodora felt her mother’s gratefulness in that glance.
“I know what you have been doing, Benjamin.”
Lord Dowell’s expression shifted. Theodora was surprised to see him fearful before he masked it.
“You know nothing, Diana. You have gone mad!” he spat venomously at her.
“I know enough,” she said calmly. “And I will not tolerate it.”
“You will tolerate what I tell you to tolerate,” he retorted.
Lady Dowell flinched, but she did not back down. “No. I will not tolerate you anymore. I will not tolerate being unhappy and pretending for another year that we are in love when clearly, I was the only one who loved at all!”
Her father slammed his hand on the table. “Enough! I am the man of this house. I own this house. I own everything in it, including you!”
Theodora’s stomach twisted with disgust.
“You truly believe that you own me or any of us?” Her mother laughed humorlessly.
“Yes,” he said confidently. “I own you, and I own her.” He pointed at Theodora without looking at her. “No one is leaving and no one is defying me. Now sit down, both of you. Our lives will continue as they always have.”
Her mother’s voice trembled. “You daughter and I refuse to live like this.”
“Both of you will do as you are told or I will ruin you.”
“Is that a threat?” Lady Dowell scoffed.
Theodora felt sick as her father turned slowly towards her. His eyes were cold and piercing. “This is your doing.”
Theodora’s breath caught. “What?”
“You,” he said, pointing at her again. “You have filled her head with nonsense. You have always been troublesome. Always questioning. Always meddling and calling it your silly little experiments. And now you have turned your own mother against your father.”
Theodora shook her head, panic rising. “I could not—”
“Do not lie to me,” he snapped.
Her mother stepped forward. “You are the liar! How dare you force our daughter to keep your sick secrets from me? She is not like you and she never will be!”
He rounded on her and Theodora placed herself between them. She was afraid that her father would strike her mother and Theo could not let that happen.
“She told you lies, Diana.” Lord Dowell almost sounded like he was begging but her mother did not believe him.
Theodora’s voice cracked. “Father, please—”
“You will keep your mouth shut or I will disown you and send you far away from us!” he roared.
Theodora flinched so hard that she almost stumbled into her mother. Lady Dowell placed her arms around her and held her steady.
“Do not raise your voice at her.”
Lord Dowell stared at his wife as though he didn’t recognize her before they began arguing again. Theodora’s hands shook violently. Her whispered prayer echoed in her mind.
Please, help my mother. Help me. Protect us from his wrath.
But the wrath was here. And it was growing.