8
“I wish you had found me sooner, young lady,” Dr. Mead scolded. The doctor was a stately gentleman with a broad white mustache, prominent forehead, and thick heavy brows, which gave him the appearance of being either greatly surprised or greatly disappointed by some important matter. His whole demeanor was that of a man who had never spent a moment unconcerned with life or death. I even sensed that the subject of his dinner conversation would be of superior importance. This importance rose from him in waves, and I found myself walking a step or two behind him from the moment he entered the foyer of the Manor.
“She is in no condition to be moved, that is certain,” he proclaimed upon removing the stethoscope from Wysteria’s chest. “She has pneumonia. Do you know what that is?”
“Yes, sir. An affliction of the lungs.”
“It is that indeed, and a bad case besides. Any move might well do her in. She must remain here until the fever breaks. But she cannot stay with only a young girl to care for her.” The doctor took Wysteria’s frail wrist in his hand, closed his eyes and counted her pulse. It was a strange sight to see a man in Wysteria’s bedchamber, sitting on her bed and holding her hand without her consent.
Dr. Mead appeared to be an excellent physician, the kind of man who would sit by the bedside of a sick patient long into the night without complaint, but in Wysteria’s presence, I could not help feeling that he was merely going through the motions of doctoring and wished desperately to be somewhere else.
I stared at the two of them, wondering if they had ever spoken to one another. They lived in the same town, so they must have met, but Wysteria called no one friend, and why should the doctor be any exception?
Dr. Mead removed his fingers from Wysteria’s wrist and regarded me. “I do not have to tell you that your mistress’s condition is grave. Is there a relative who can be summoned?” he asked.
“It is just Wysteria and I, sir, as I have no relations that I know of.” The doctor’s massive brows rose as he turned his full attention to me, inspecting me from head to foot.
“You are indeed as small as they say.”
I nodded.
“Perhaps you will still grow.”
“It is my hope, sir.”
“Even if you were larger than average for your age and sturdy as an ox, I would not leave a girl to this work.” The doctor rose and deposited his stethoscope in his bag. “I would send my nurse, but she will not come. No one will come out here.” He paused, as if resigned to the words that followed. “Therefore, I will come myself each day until Mrs. Barrows is well enough to be taken to St. Elias’s. Until that time and until I return, you must stay at her side. Hold a cold cloth to her head and rub her feet vigorously.” He pulled back the blanket at the end of the bed, exposing Wysteria’s stockinged feet. “Like this.” He took one foot between his massive hands and rubbed it roughly. “We must draw the fever down from her head. Do you understand?”
I nodded.
“Let’s see you try, then.”
I walked to the edge of the bed and gingerly took Wysteria’s thin foot from his hands.
“Don’t be afraid of it, girl,” he barked. I held it more firmly. It was bony like her hand, bony and cold. “Feel how cold it is?”
“Yes, sir. Like ice.”
“You have your work cut out for you. Rub both feet until they are hot in your hands. Keep at it, and when you must stop to rest, make yourself useful by giving the poor woman something to drink. Make sure she drinks.”
If Wysteria had been of sound mind, she would have dismissed the doctor for his impertinence, reminding him that she was no longer a poor woman and that he need not waste his pity upon her. But she was not up to rebuke and was so terribly frail that I was afraid to let the doctor leave me alone with her.
“Must you depart so soon, Dr. Mead?”
The doctor turned to me and his manner softened. “I do not envy you your place in this household,” he said. “The heir, is that what they call you?”
“Yes, sir. But I am no heir.”
“You are wise in not coveting the title, for no good has ever come from trying to claim this dwelling. Yet may I say that, if circumstances were otherwise, you would make a noble heir? You must be commended for your bravery, if nothing else.”
“Thank you.”
“Keep your courage, young lady. Do not let doubts creep in.” He snapped his bag shut and looked warily about the room. “Though I know it is the nature of this house to breed doubt.” He picked up his coat and hat and searched in vain for his gloves. “Are there no lights in this dreary abode?”
I took a match and lit the candle on the nightstand and one in the window.
“Good. And perhaps you can throw another log on the fire. The dankness alone in this place would drain the life out of a soul.”
“Yes, sir.” Dr. Mead had arrived before sunset, and as the house had grown darker, he had become increasingly anxious.
“I’ll be off, then.” I lit another candle and handed it to him as we walked to the foyer.
“Those beasts—will they let me pass?” he said, putting on his hat.
“Yes, sir. I will keep them inside so they will not frighten your horse.”
“I am grateful.”
“Safe journey home, sir,” I said as I opened the door for him, letting in a strong draft of damp spring air.
“Yes. And a good night to you, young lady.”
I watched the light from Dr. Mead’s candle wind its way down the long drive and then go out as he mounted his horse and rode away.
The doctor came as promised each morning to check on Wysteria’s progress and to administer medicine from his store of small glass bottles. Though he was stern, he was also generous with his time, and I appreciated his presence in the house. I had not, in memory, known any men, for no father or uncle of my own could I recall. All men must be like this, I thought as I watched the doctor enter the Manor and move confidently around the sitting room, whisking off his great, dark cape and hanging it over the banister. He gave off a faint but deeply masculine scent of the woods and pipe tobacco.
With each visit, the doctor seemed more at ease within the Manor, and after a while he would even accept a cup of tea and linger in the sitting room, looking about at the furnishings and discussing his knowledge of art and the finer things of life.
Though he was generally guarded in his speech and would not dwell on any one topic, on occasion he would inquire about my life, and I could often lead him to subjects I wished to know more about.
“And what of your schooling?” the doctor asked one day as I poured his tea.
“I take my schooling at home, sir.”
“I see. I did the same, and just as well. It harmed me none. Is it Mrs. Barrows who is your teacher?” I nodded. “And what do you spend your time learning?”
“Sums . . . geography, history.”
“Do you know the history of this house, then?”
“Only what folks say.”
“And what do folks say?”
“That the house is cursed, sir.”
The doctor paused and looked at me, his right eyebrow rising into a high arch.
“Is it true, sir?”
“Some believe it.”
“And you, sir?”
“ ‘Curse’ is a convenient term used for things one does not understand. Perhaps those who inhabit a dwelling curse it themselves by the way they act. There have been many unhappy unions in this house over the years. Many a marriage turned sour because of a belief in curses.”
“The captain and Wysteria?”
“Yes. And others before them.”
“Did you know Captain Barrows?” Dr. Mead hesitated, and I thought he might suddenly end the conversation as he had done on previous visits when the subject made him uncomfortable, but he continued to speak.
“Our families were never on good terms, but Barrows and I met at school. We had the kind of friendship forged in boyhood, based upon one’s ability to catch frogs and successfully skip stones across the bay. He was a kind boy and an honest man, a man who could do many things well and a few things excellently, but an impractical dreamer above all else. Like his father, and his father before him.”
“Is it not a good thing to be a dreamer, sir?”
“Not when one believes in things that can never be,” he replied sternly.
“What do you mean?”
Dr. Mead sighed and walked over to the window.
“Material wealth meant nothing to him,” the doctor said, clearly frustrated by this quality in his friend. “He cared only about the sea and later about his bride, which was perhaps the most tragic of all.”
“Why is that, sir?”
“Captain Barrows believed that if he married for love—and he did love his wife, though I could never understand why—he would break the curse that hung over this wretched house. He never gave up hope that his wife would one day return his affections. All of his voyages drew him back here in an attempt to win her heart. In the end, he wished to liberate them both from the grasp of Bourne Manor, to sell this place once and for all, but he was foiled even in that. He could not accept that his wife’s allegiance was never to him. I tried to counsel him against the marriage from the beginning, but he would not listen.”
“Why would you be against it, sir?”
“Your mistress was courted by every eligible bachelor in town, including myself, but none pleased her. This is what she wanted,” he said, sweeping his hand about the room. “Bourne Manor was always foremost in her thoughts. She never took her eyes from it. Mrs. Barrows is not a woman who is capable of love. Surely you have found this yourself.”
I nodded.
“Perhaps it is the remoteness of this place that preyed upon her as it preyed on those before her. Isolation may be the only curse that exists here. Though I do not believe her incapacity for human affection was a product of solitude. I suspect that it began early on.”
“Sir?”
“I’m not sure how much you know of your mistress’s past, but Mrs. Barrows was dreadfully poor once. So poor, her family could not afford even the bare essentials. Poverty is no crime, mind you. Many a noble man has come into this world with nothing and made an honorable place for himself. But in Mrs. Barrows’s case, the effects were . . .” The doctor’s voice trailed off.
“What, sir?”
“All I shall say is that your mistress always knew she would live here one day. It was perhaps the one thing she knew in all her life. It mattered little how she came to own Bourne Manor or how she kept it.” He held my gaze. “Poverty can steal away more than physical comfort. It can lead one to act without integrity; let no one tell you otherwise.” The doctor glanced briefly out at the lake.
The weather was turning. Clouds were gathering over the islands. “It is, in my opinion, young lady,” he said, “better not to dream.”
“Shall we see to Mrs. Barrows, then?”
“Yes, Dr. Mead.”
Together we walked up the stairs to Wysteria’s room. Dr. Mead adjusted her covers and laid the inside of his wrist on her forehead, checking for fever. He touched her lightly, as one might touch a china doll one had long ago lost interest in and now pitied.
“Sir?” I knew I must ask one more question while he was in the mood for conversation.
“Yes?”
“Did the captain die, sir, as the stories say? On this lake, in a storm?” In the previous days, I had found myself thinking of the story the boys on the tracks had told me and wondering if it was true. There suddenly seemed to be so many things I did not know the truth about.
“You are curious about him?”
“Yes, sir.”
“What do you know of him?”
“Only that he was a sea captain and traveled the world. He made maps and built boats. He spoke several languages.”
“You seem to know more than most. Has Mrs. Barrows told you all these things?”
“Oh, no, sir. She never speaks of him.”
“I see.”
I lowered my voice to a whisper, though I could hear Wysteria’s steady breathing. “I have spent time in the captain’s study, sir. But please do not mention it to Wysteria. She would not approve.”
“You need not worry, child. Your secret is safe with me.”
“Thank you, sir.”
“Do you spend much time in this study of his?”
“Yes, sir. It is the brightest of all the rooms. Indeed, it is my favorite room in all the Manor.”
“And what is it you do there?”
“I sit mostly, sir, and read. I look at the captain’s books. He has many fine books about seabirds and shipbuilding.”
“And these subjects interest you?”
“Yes, sir. I also spend my time watching the weather and . . .”
I stopped myself, for I did not think it proper to mention the kites to him.
“Yes?”
“Observing the birds and wildlife on the beach.”
“It sounds like a fascinating place from which to observe life.”
“It is, sir.”
“I would very much like to see this study, if you think it appropriate.”
“Of course, sir. You were his friend. You knew him better than I.”
“Would you be so kind as to show it to me?”
“Now, sir?”
“Yes, if it is convenient.”
I could see no reason why the doctor should not accompany me. All the kites were in the glass house or the attic, and they were the only things I wished to keep from him.
“I would be happy to show it to you, sir.”
Wysteria moaned and turned over in her sleep. Dr. Mead adjusted her covers again and put a cool cloth on her head, then eagerly followed me to the third floor. He watched intently as I took the skeleton key from my pocket and fitted it into the lock.
“It seems you have discovered more than just the captain’s study. You must know all the secrets of this place by now, an intelligent girl like yourself ?”
“Oh, no, sir. I know very little, as Wysteria holds the keys to the rest of the Manor.”
I pushed open the door and held it for the doctor, then walked over to the windows and drew back the curtains for more light, but the sky was now completely overcast. Rain threatened, and the room remained in shadow. I lit a lantern on the desk instead so that the doctor could have a proper view of things.
“Ahhh.” Dr. Mead sighed, stepping across the threshold. “In all the years I knew the captain, I never set foot inside. It was his private study, you understand. I’m not sure what he would think of our being here, or of a young lady like you knowing his deepest secrets.”
“What secrets do you mean, sir?” I felt my face grow hot.
“The secrets that a house such as this harbors. The captain spoke to me of one such secret, though I did not believe him at the time. There are, as you know, many stories that dance around in people’s minds about this place, regarding hidden fortunes and such.” He ran his fingers across the top of the captain’s desk, fingering lightly the papers and maps upon it. He walked to the fireplace and picked up a small glass globe with a sailing ship inside. He moved it about in his hands. His mood grew pensive and somber as he examined the globe, and a peculiar light appeared in his eyes when again he spoke.
“It is strange how life is so like a circle, is it not? How a thing can come around once again?”
“Sir?”
“Perhaps not all is lost. Perhaps it might still be redeemed.” The doctor replaced the globe on the mantel. “May I?” he asked, walking over to the captain’s spyglass and tipping it up to his eye.
“Yes, sir. You can see the islands quite well in fair weather.”
“It is an excellent spot. A clear view. I can see why you like it here. It is quite different from the rest of the house.”
“Look, sir,” I said, turning the spyglass ever so slightly to the north, “you can see the light at Bolton Island from here, even in the gloom.”
“Ah, yes. Quite nice.” The doctor seemed entranced by the view, and when the Hounds began to bark from the floor below, he flinched, his reverie suddenly broken. “Those beasts!”
“Perhaps Wysteria has awoken?”
“Yes,” he said, checking his watch. “I will see to Mrs. Barrows, then make my way back to town. I have quite overstayed my time.”
Wysteria was, as before, deep in sleep. The Hounds had only been barking at the wind, which they often did. They were now stretched out peacefully on the floor beside her bed, and glanced up as we walked into the room. One stretched his neck and licked the laces of my boots. Dr. Mead noticed.
“And are these the famous boots that keep you anchored here?” the doctor inquired.
“Yes, sir.”
“I wish you a brighter fate than Captain Barrows’s.” I must have appeared shocked at his words, for he suddenly changed his tone.
“I’m afraid that I have fallen prey to the melancholy of these walls. Perhaps I should not speak so to a young lady, though I sense you are stronger than your physical dimensions indicate. I only wish I had spoken as adamantly to my friend while there was time to do so.” The doctor opened the curtains around Wysteria’s bed and stood looking down at her.
“The fever is waning. You’ve done well. I believe Mrs. Barrows is strong enough to transport to the hospital.”
“She will not like it, sir.”
“She has no choice. I will come with my stewards and collect her this very afternoon.”
“If you think it best, Dr. Mead.”
“I do,” he said, gathering up his bag. “And what of you, little one? What will you do? It may be longer than a fortnight before her return.”
“I must stay to light the lantern and watch over the Hounds, sir. I cannot abandon them. There are many nets, too, that I have yet to mend. I cannot imagine how we will pay you for your services if I do not remain here.”
“There is no hurry. If nothing else, Mrs. Barrows has a reputation for paying her debts.”
“Thank you, sir.”
“You assure me that you will be fine, then? Shall I take you at your word?”
“Yes. I am used to being alone.”
He frowned and put his hand on my shoulder. “For a brief time, I will allow it, but I’ll come when I can to check on you. In the meanwhile, light the lantern each night as usual. That will be a sign to me that all is well.”
“Yes, of course. Thank you, sir.”
“Thank you, young lady, for showing me the captain’s study. It meant more to me than you can know. I suspect there is much there still to see. I would like to visit it again, if I may.”
“Certainly,” I said, and walked him to the door.
“You are a curious little thing,” he remarked before departing. “Curious indeed.”