I couldn’t bring myself to change out of my nightgown or even shimmy into my tea gown. The days were all but the same: a horrible and miserable mess. A pessimistic view, I’m aware, but when the heart breaks, everything does. Your world crumbles at your feet, and your reflection stares back at you, dark shadows underneath your eyes, hair no longer in their prim and proper curls, and face as swollen as if it were stung by a bee.
Begrudgingly letting myself out of bed, I shuffle across my chambers and into the bathroom. I would have preferred not to stare at myself in the glass while I got ready for the day, but there I was. My black hair was tangled into a bird’s nest and not even a pretty one like the fashionable hats these days. What many describe as my deep brown eyes like chocolate were dull and lifeless. My skin didn’t fare so well either. It was a mess. I was a mess.
After getting my hygiene in sort, I turned to look at the calendar on my bedside table. It was a small one, barely the size of my notebook. My mind rattled and scrambled to figure what day or what month we were in. I took out my spectacles, those which I was supposed to wear every second of the day, and squinted at the date.
Funny how there’s a bright red circle on the 15th of August.
Fifteenth of August. Fifteen...One and five…
My eyes grew wide and the towel I held dropped to the floor. I rushed to my wardrobe, picking out one of my more formal gowns. I pulled out a mustard yellow gown, detailed with lace, and in the fashionable puff sleeves of today. I shuffled around my closet searching for the corset that had been forgotten. Chemise, stockings, corset cover, petticoat, all of it, they were somewhere in here.
I don’t think I got ready faster than I did that morning. I refused to look at the clock. I knew it was past eight in the morning. The milkman already knocked. He was a kind man, unbearably kind, and so were my neighbors, sickeningly kind. I could feel all their eyes, Mrs. Smith’s bright blue ones and Mr. Smith’s hazel ones along with their children’s pair of eyes as they watched me shuffle along the steps of my home and out into the brazen sun.
“Off somewhere, Ms. Vincente?” Mr. Tattlenickle asked, a hint of mocking in his voice.
I nodded and put a meek smile, “Quite so, Mr. Tattlenickle. Do you know the quickest way to Greyfield Manor?”
Mr. Tattlenickle only chuckled, “Aye, right so. Greyfield Manor is in Bath, is it not?”
I nodded.
“Right. Go down to Temple Meads and there should be a 10 AM train going to the Bath Spa. From there, take a hansom cab to St. Luke’s Church, and walk about ten minutes or so, and ye should see Greyfield.”
I thanked the old man profusely and ran as fast as I could to my bike to pedal like my life so dearly depended on it.
Temple Meads wasn’t as busy as I had worried. In fact, there were scarcely any people. If I hadn’t brought my coat, then my mustard gown would’ve stood out amongst the greys and the beiges of the common folk.
“All aboard for Bath!”
The short lanky signalman’s voice boomed through the station. Barely anyone shuffled along the platform and onto the cart. I turned and watched as barely a dozen or so people, dressed in varying shades of black, some even wearing a smidge of white, hopped on the train. I bowed my head and gave my ticket to the conductor.
The car was silent. Everyone stared elsewhere, out the window, on a newspaper, or even at the door leading to the next car. I noticed some carrying white lilies, carnations, and the occasional yellow variations of them as well. They were in intricate patterns and arrangements. While some were small bouquets, others managed to shove in whole arrangements through the tiny doors. Some women bowed their heads, shielding their faces with black tulle veils. I stood out from the dreary compartment with some of the mustard fabric poking out through my coat. I looked like a sore thumb.
I was lucky enough to get a cab the moment I stepped off the train. The ceremony wouldn’t have been so far as to be ending if I kept my time correctly. I thanked the cab driver, almost forgetting to pay, and practically slammed the door shut.
Greyfield Manor was a grand building that was for sure. The Therells were a wealthy family, inheriting a lot from their ancestors. The countryside French-esque architecture stood out between the small stone cottages. The roof was tiled with blue slate and the walls were made with stone imported from Scandinavia. While the Therells were not necessarily a religious family, a family with such notoriety would at least participate in a church wedding, but I suppose even that tradition they rejected.
There was a fairly sized bell tower not too far away from what I would assume to be the greenhouse. It stood out from the beige and cream of the house. It was old, aged, and weathered. Its stone, what I would assume to once have been polished and a brilliant grey, was dull, darkened, and ashen from time. The bell, however, was oddly polished. It was a deep silver color, and even from my place on the ground, I could see the delicate carving. A young lad, no older than the late teens, leaned against one of the stone pillars. He carried something in his hand while the other held a pipe. He stared off into the distance, looking like an old soul in his tattered waistcoat and trousers along with that dastardly pipe.
The young lad was unnerving that I will admit. Even from down on the ground, he carried an unnatural energy to him...something otherworldly if you will. Something terrifyingly not of this world.
I brushed away the shiver and chill from my spine and walked up to the grand oak door of the manor. There wasn't much outside decoration except the few neatly and pristinely cut hedges and the small and sad excuse of a fountain slightly off center.
Much to my surprise, there was barely any decoration for a wedding. No pink carnations, no red roses, no doves, no grand decorations. It was...dull and barren. Lifeless. Like an abandoned manor.
I walked closer, hesitating in each step, keeping a keen ear for any union ceremonial sounds, but it was silent. The entire estate was still and quiet. Not one bird chirped, and the town in the distance didn't even make a single noise.
Time seemed to have stopped.
I stepped down from the steps of the door and peered in through the window. Nothing. All I saw were thick velvet curtains that shielded the inside from the world. I looked back over to the bell tower. The young lad stood up straight from his earlier position and walked slowly to the bell. I could see his hand emerge from his pockets and grab the rope of the bell. My eyes grew wide.
Adrenaline rushed through my blood, and the oak door didn’t seem so heavy. The loud creaking pierced the still air. In the middle of the hall, there was the Therell family, gathered around something. A priest in simple garb stood in the center and loomed over something. Tall and decorated candle stands were on both sides of whatever it is the family was gathered upon.
The priest opened his mouth to say something, but my voice rang clear as day through the silence, “I object!”
Then the bell rang.
Each ring was louder than the other, louder than any bell I have ever heard. The sound pierced through my ears, and my hands shot up to cover them. The rest of the family and priest did the same. We were all on our knees, our hands digging themselves into our ears, trying to silence the loud rings of the bell.
DING!
DING!
DING!
The last ring was the loudest and longest. It rang through the empty halls, the main hall, and one could go as far as to say the sound reached as far as the nearest town. I was the first who stood up. A soft ringing erupted in my ear. It was like a bee had entered my ear and buzzed constantly. The world around me was hazy and blurry. I could barely make out the shapes of the figures in all black, crouched down, covering their ears.
I stared at the center of the hall, where the priest crouched behind. I deciphered the fuzzy white and green images as lilies or carnations, decorated along a long white rectangle. I squinted, the ringing still buzzing away in my ears. My vision was no better. It was fuzzy and hazy. Barely anything looked like anything.
My eyes grew wide at the realization. The pieces fell into place. The black clothing, lilies and carnations, a white rectangle. Candles. All of it. I didn’t barge into a wedding.
I barged into a funeral.
But whose funeral? I stared at the blurry coffin in the distance. It was white, yes, with the intricate gold detailing a family like the Therells would be able to afford. Everyone slowly got back up and stood. I looked among them, searching for a missing family member until I heard the groaning.
I’m certain I wasn’t the only one. Everyone’s senses came back to them, and all looked around, eyes dashing from one corner to the other at where that sound came from. It grew louder and louder and closer to us. It was no distant calling nor was it unearthly. It was a disembodied voice...coming directly from the coffin.
Everyone stared at the coffin. Horror and shock filling their eyes. Mrs. Therell and her daughter Kara, both held each other’s arms, eyes wide. Mr. Therell stood alone, hands at his side, looking as if he’d attack whatever would emerge from the coffin. My shock turned sour and into distaste, looking at who stood close to Mr. Therell. Jordan Matthews, stood there, frozen in place, looking dumbfounded and awestricken. He stood awfully close to the Therells. That bastard.
Something...no...Someone sat up straight in the coffin. Screams bounced around, echoing in the empty halls. Gasps soon filled the air. Everyone backed away, slowly, while Mr. and Mrs. Therell along with Kara and Jordan, remained close proximity to the coffin.
I slowly made my way there. Each footstep felt heavier than the other. I stopped midway. My eyes grew wide. My hand covered my mouth as I gasped, for there sat in the coffin, hazel eyes as spellbinding as ever, dark brown hair smoothed back, and pale skin, was Madden Therell.
“Where am I?”
Mrs. Therell wanted to speak, but her words came out as jumbles and incomprehensible syllables. The color drained from her face, her hands trembled in Kara’s. The poor woman looked like she was about to faint. Mr. Therell stood there, frozen in his stern face, but one could not deny the shock and horror his drooping eyes held.
“Madden…?” Jordan spoke his name. The audacity of this man to speak Madden’s name and poison it with his voice.
“Why are you all...dressed like that?” Madden asked, genuine confusion filling his voice. “Where am I? Mother? Kara? Father?”
Madden paused. His eyes wandering far beyond the confines of his family and Matthews. His gaze, though it bore no malice, was piercing and burning. Hazel eyes burned through my dark brown, almost black ones. Did he know?
“Paige?”
With that one word, all eyes were suddenly on me. Some were relieved, almost delighted, like Mr. Therell or probably even Kara, and some faces I had never even seen, but some were like Mrs. Therell’s, cold, unwavering, chilling glares. The same ones your mother would shoot you when you misbehaved or the one your teacher shot at you when you broke your slate.
Kara turned from me to Madden, her eyes softened, but the terror remained, “Madden...How...How do you feel?”
Madden looked at his sister, bewildered, “I...I feel fine...yeah...fine, but...why?”
Madden needn’t complete his question. Mr. Therell walked up to his son, followed by Mrs. Therell. She stroked his cheek, tears running down her face. Mr. Therell only stared at his son. Madden was bewildered, confused, his face said it all. He tried moving in the coffin, but realization hit him.
“Why...Mother…Why am I in a coffin?”
Mrs. Therell only sobbed. Mr. Therell stepped in, his voice, cool and calm, “Madden, my son, you’re supposed to be dead.”
----------
I wasn't sure what exactly Madden’s reaction was. He looked...bewildered that was for sure, but at the corners of his mouth, his lips turned up slightly. It was as if he was about to laugh like everything was a prank played on him while he slept.
“Father, do you even hear yourself?” Madden asked, clearly offended. “Dead? But, I’m here! Alive and breathing!”
“Yes, I can...see that, Madden, but…” Mr. Therell trailed off. He turned away from his son and turned to Kara.
The young woman with the same dark brown hair as her brother walked over. Her eyes were filled with disbelief, and under what light presented itself, one could see how her eyes were glistening and how they watered each step she took.
“Madden, we...we saw your dead body...your corpse!” It was almost a scream but not quite. It was soft yet filled with frustration. “You...You were there! In your bed! Motionless! Grey! Madden, you were dead!”
Kara turned hysterical. Her hands balled up and tears started streaming down her face. Her father stepped in again to comfort both her and Mrs. Therell. Everyone stood motionless. Some had their gaze fixated on Madden while some were as pale as paper and looked like they were about to faint.
“Ms. Vincente,” Jordan’s voice rang through my ears. It had been a while since I’ve heard his voice, that medium to low pitched voice was one I never did miss.
I turn to him, resisting the urge to glare into his soul.
“You’re a nurse, if I’m not mistaken?” He said. “Can...Can you...confirm if Madden- Mr. Therell is...actually alive?”
I wanted to scoff at the man. Ignore him. Snap back with some witty remark, but I complied. I nodded and made my way over to Madden. I stopped a meter or so in front of him. His hazel eyes, bright and shining, both affixed over my brown ones. We stared at each other for I don’t know how long. It was...chilling. I felt the shivers up my spine as I continued to confirm that the dead did reanimate, and I was staring at such evidence. I noticed his chest rise and fall, the plaid fabric, wrinkling as he moved. His cheeks, his skin, though as pale as a ghost, had the tinge of red in them. Blood was circulating.
“Madden?” It was all I could say.
His name rolled off my tongue leaving a bitter aftertaste. It felt like reciting a cursed Latin text off a dusty book. It felt wrong.
Madden’s eyes softened. They were no longer a piercing shade of green, but almost golden in its warmth. I wanted to touch him, caress his cheek, say sorry to him. I wanted him back in my life, but I resisted. I stood there, my feet unmoving.
I turned to the Therells and Jordan, “There’s...There’s no doubt to it. Madden is...alive.”
The next few minutes were a blur. The visitors started panicking as Madden slowly stepped out of the coffin. The oak doors were slammed shut by the butlers. The Therells regained their composure and turned to face them while Jordan and I stood behind. It was one of the few times that I felt thankful for his presence.
“Our esteemed guests,” Mrs. Therell’s voice was like an automaton. Emotionless, stagnant, and cold. “Please, do calm down. We will address this circumstance like civilized people.”
Murmurs came from the crowd. Some had their brows knitted tightly. Other’s fists were balled up as if ready to throw a punch at the butlers. Many of the ladies held the arms close to their chest or clung onto their companions for dear life. Jordan and I stayed where we were. I wanted to stand beside Madden, but something stopped me. Fear stopped me.
“Only a select group of people know of my son’s funeral, and all those people are gathered here today.”
Mrs. Therell faced away from me, but I felt her cold stare trickling along my back sending shivers across my spine. Was I supposed to know? I tried my best recalling any sort of letter that screamed ‘From the Therells,’ but what did I know? All my letters and newspapers were but a mess of paper and parchment laying on my doorstep.
“I would...like to ask a simple favor from you all,” Mrs. Therell continued. An obvious amount of regret and frustration doused her voice. “Please, for me and my family, do not tell of anything that happened today. The funeral, my son’s resurrection, all of it. That I ask of all of you.”
I will admit. There was a slight disappointment in me, but it was more medical than anything. Madden’s resurrection, that seemed to be caused by me entering, would make medical journal headlines. He was already a perfect specimen, subject, to study for saving those on the brink of death, but I kept silent. I nodded my head slightly and so did Jordan. The rest of the guests murmured, but in the end all nodded in agreement.
I walked down the steps and headed for the front door. I wanted nothing more than to leave the manor as soon as possible, but something stopped me, quite literally. A hand held my arm in a tight grip. I turned to see it was Mrs. Therell who squeezed my poor arm in an iron grip. Anymore and she’ll ruin the fabric.
“Mrs. Therell…?”
The cold stare softened, “Ms. Vincente, you are a nurse, aren’t you?”
I nodded. It was the second time today my profession was clarified.
“Then, I ask of you a simple favor,” Mrs. Therell said. “I know that you and my son didn’t end on such good terms, but for me and Kara, please look after him.”
“Whatever do you mean, Mrs. Therell?” I asked, genuinely confused. “Madden...is well, he’s alive and well. Why do you need me to watch over him?”
Mrs. Therell sighed, “I think you understand that my son’s resurrection is not at all a natural event. I would prefer some sort of medical professional to watch over him.”
There was a silence that followed.
“I understand that I am asking for your services as a medical professional, so let me propose what Mr. Therell proposed,” Mrs. Therell paused, “I would like to hire you as my son’s personal nurse.”
-------
It wasn’t necessarily in my practice to serve as a personal nurse to anyone. I had always worked at hospitals whether they be field or actual hospitals, private or public. I would be lying if I told that my longing for Madden was stronger than the attractive amount Mr. and Mrs. Therell proposed, but I will say that both were almost at an equal motive.
Mrs. Therell assured me that in no means was I a servant to the Therell family. In fact, I believe she used the term ‘a much higher position than a servant.’ I was to be a family doctor of sorts, free to come and go when I pleased, but she did mention me having to come by at least every other day.
The accommodations were provided as well. The Therells had another property in Bath. It was a fairly sized cottage, two floors, a fireplace, a nice parlour, and even a nice garden both at the front and backyard. I wasn’t sure how long I’d be serving as Madden’s personal nurse, but I knew it would definitely require a lot more than my medical experience in hospitals.
Madden stood outside the front door, hands in the pockets of his coat. I stopped by the gate, switching my small medical bag to the other hand. I took a deep breath and walked up to him, putting on the most courteous smile I could muster.
“A fine day, isn’t it, Mr. Therell?” I said.
Madden paused before turning to me, “You know you don’t have to address me so formally.”
“I am here on official terms, Mr. Therell,” I replied. “It’s but proper to address you that way.”
Madden opened his mouth to speak but decided against it. He sighed and opened the door for me. The same hall, empty and barren, with only reliance on sunlight to brighten it up greeted me. There was no casket, no candles, no guests in black clothing, just a hall with stairs.
Mr. Therell descended down the steps, his smile gleaming, yet it was too wide, too forced. His joy and lightheartedness was all too obvious to be a facade. His eyes were almost soulless, darkened by lack of sleep. He was as neat and presentable as ever, Madden took that from him, but he looked more a shell of a man than an actual human.
“Ah, Ms. Vincente, glad you accepted our offer,” Mr. Therell greeted.
I smiled, “It was a hard one to refuse, sir.”
“Right. My son will show you around the house though I doubt there is anything new to show you, then you two can get breakfast.”
With that, Mr. Therell departed as quickly as he came. Madden and I stood there in silence until he offered to take both my bag and my coat. He stopped for a moment, his eyes lingering upon my dress. The cold stare he inherited from his mother, softened, and his hazel eyes met mine once more.
“You still kept the dress?” He asked, a few tones short of a whisper.
I froze but quickly regained my composure, “It would be silly of me to throw away such a fine crafted dress, sir.”
Madden’s face dropped. I was certain he was disappointed in my answer along with the lack of joy or excitement in my voice. He nodded, giving a quick smile before starting to walk off.
Not much changed in the house since I last visited. No new renovations or any furniture changes. It was almost like nothing was moved. The plates in the display remained there, dust collecting in the fine bone china. The parlour was no different. Each sofa was cleaned and arranged as if no one was using it or as if no one even lived in the house. Each room looked too neat, too clean, too prim and proper to even be considered rooms of a house. They all looked like displays in some showroom.
“Well, that’s all of the house,” Madden said. “Should we get breakfast?”
I nodded, “Of course, sir.”
Madden still held the look of disappointment in his face. He started walking off in the direction of the dining room but he stopped, “Oh, and please, do call me Madden and drop the ‘sir’ thing as well.”
Breakfast was silent. Only the clinking of silverware and china broke through the silence and stillness of the air. The dining hall was empty with the exemption of me and Madden, sitting opposite each other, both pretending that the breakfast was extremely interesting.
After breakfast, Madden left me to my devices. He practically slammed his silverware and glass once he finished, sighing and excusing himself in a mumble. The maid who stood by the doorway turned to me once he left. We both exchanged confused glances as she tidied up the table.
“Um...Do you have an apothecary cabinet somewhere?” I asked the maid.
“Certainly, miss. Up the stairs, hallway to the west wing, where the family stays, and the third door from the largest window.”
I thanked her and went back to the entrance hall to fetch my bag. Each step up erupted in a creaking that rang through the entire house. There was no difference in either the east and west wings. Both had the same light blue stucco, dark blue curtains, and white accents. I will admit the servant’s wing was less illuminated with only two regularly sized windows as well as a poor attempt at accent wallpaper.
The west wing was more refined despite being the exact replica of the east. It was brighter for sure with more decorative details in the stucco and intricate lamp holders along with the fashionable electric bulbs.
Like the dining hall, the west wing was unbearably silent. It was like the whole hall had been deserted. I couldn’t hear anything. No breathing, sounds of scissors or even parchment being rattled. My heartbeat rang in my ears, and my steps sounded like echoes on the wooden floor.
I reached the apothecary closet. The door was neat and white, but it was all too clean. Like it hadn’t been touched since the day the Therells moved in. It was pristine...suspiciously pristine, even the bottles of medicine and herbs were all kept in their shelves and cabinets.
I started sorting through the bottles, reciting out loud all the labeled substances. Laudanum, morphine, paracetamol, and many others with each having two bottles. There was a great deal of pills as well. Some where labeled properly while others only had ‘For the Therells’ transcribes on yellowed parchment.
“Would you be using any of those on me?”
The closet door shut and the light turned on. I jumped, turning around to where the familiar voice came from. Madden stood in front of me, directly blocking the door as I held on to a bottle of laudanum and morphine.
“Oh, Mr. Therell,” I chuckled nervously, “A surprise for you to come here.”
“You haven’t answered my question,” he replied.
There was a slight tone in his voice, one of playfulness and teasing, yet his face held a cold stern gaze on me. I was tiny compared to Madden and extremely petite as I am, the enclosed closet space did not help any better.
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“These? Oh, I don’t think it’ll be necessary, sir,” I said. “Unless of course, you are feeling any sort of discomfort now.”
“As a matter of fact, I am, Ms. Vincente,” he replied.
I tilted my head, trying my best to remain oblivious, but I knew Madden all too well. His tone changed into a more serious and stiff one, and his brows were now straight and furrowed, and here we both were, knowing exactly where the conversation would lead to in the smallest room in the manor.
“Don’t play me for a fool, Paige,” Madden said. “For the time that you’ve been here, you’ve been treating me like a stranger not even acknowledging anything!”
I put down the two bottles and stood up, “What is there to acknowledge, Mr. Therell? I am here as your personal nurse! Not your previous love interest!”
Our voices were short of shouting, but we managed to keep it as angry whispers. Madden sighed and walked closer to me, like there was enough space to even do that.
“But it does not give you any right to treat me as if nothing happened between us!”
“I have every right to do so, Mr. Therell,” his name was now poison rolling off my tongue. “It was more than clear to me that I was not your priority, and now at least let me be your personal nurse in peace!”
Madden stared at me. His brows softened and whole person shifted. He looked away.
“Look, Paige-”
“Address me as Ms. Vincente, sir,” I scoffed. “I do not think it is proper for us to discuss this.”
I tried squeezing my way past him, but I suppose he was as big as the door.
“You’re blocking the door,” I said through gritted teeth. I didn’t want to be here any longer than I already have.
“At least, let us talk this out at some point,” Madden whispered.
He turned sideways and opened the door for me. I turned to him, teary-eyed yet seething with anger. I wanted to slap him, ridicule him, hurt him in some way, but I suppose being a nurse overrides your emotions and puts you into a professional attitude despite being humiliated in an apothecary closet. I wiped my eyes, snatching my bag from inside the closet and stomped away, but somewhere deep down inside me, I knew this wasn’t the last encounter.
The next few days had become routine for me. Walk the ten minutes along the gravel road to Greyfield Manor, be greeted by Madden himself, have breakfast, and observe Madden. I still didn’t see the purpose of me watching Madden like a hawk in his room, pretending to take down notes for some form of report. He was just as human as ever. Breathing, walking, looking at me, eating, whatever it is humans do.
Jordan Matthews came along to visit. The butler knocked on the bedroom door, requesting for Madden. He nodded, stepping out the door, but he stopped. He turned towards me and raised a brow.
“Aren’t you coming?” he asked.
“Why would I, sir?” I replied. “I’m not needed.”
“I thought you were supposed to watch my every move,” he said, mimicking his mother’s voice in the last few words.
I almost chuckled, but I kept a stern face, “It would simply be like before, Mr. Therell. I stand by in the hall while you get lost in whatever world it is you and Mr. Matthews have.”
Madden looked like he was about to scream or throw the nearest object. His fists balled and his breathing deepened.
“So now, you bring up the past!” He said, decibels short of shouting.
I will admit, there was a small fear in me, but I knew Madden wouldn’t even hurt a fly, “I believe your guest is waiting.”
It was amusing to see Madden act like a child. He turned so swiftly and sharply and stomped away like a spoiled kid that I almost laughed at his departure. I put my notebook in my apron and exited the room. Madden had already stomped away to the front door, and now I was free to do whatever I wished.
I crept over the wooden floors, being careful not to make a creak. From the landing, I saw Jordan and Madden, greeting each other, and Madden acting as if he didn’t just throw a childish tantrum. Both laughed and talked as if there was nothing wrong in the word as if Madden hadn’t just resurrected a few days ago. Anger seethed in me, watching as Jordan laughed along with Madden. Both walked along into the dining hall, and I suppose I couldn’t keep my curiosity to myself, and I followed them, hiding behind many pieces of furniture to conceal myself.
They sat at the dining table, right next to each other enjoying a trifle very early on in the day. The conversation was kept light being confined to topics such as the weather or how well the trading routes are working for both the Matthews and the Therells. It was a bore listening to their conversation in the dining hall. The two already got lost in their little world just like before, and it was like nothing supernatural happened just a few days ago.
I was infuriated in a sense. I didn’t know why. Each surface level topic that arose as they dug into their whipped cream and cake made my blood boil. It was so mundane, so infuriatingly shallow. Though I suppose that there was a hint of shame in me. What was I even expecting them to say? To talk about me? Was it like they knew how Madden was brought back to life?
Maybe it was just nice to feel wanted for once.
The venue was moved to the vast garden of Greyfield. Mrs. Therell once told me she refused to have a greenhouse as she feels that those dastardly things are built to domestic plants that should be able to roam free. Who knew a lady with such a commanding and cold aura to her would care so much about a plant’s freedom?
I sat on one of the many outdoor chairs, angling myself so that the bushes of roses would keep me hidden. I could only hear so much from the distance I sat in. All the words in a mumble and whisper, and I gave up trying to eavesdrop from where I was.
“It’s nice to have you back, Paige.”
My head whipped back, and I jumped in my seat. I turned towards the voice and there stood Kara Therell in a pretty pastel pink gown. It was a simple one, most likely made out of linen or cotton. It had the puff sleeves that my gown had as well, but all the decorations were an emerald brooch and a white satin belt. Her hair was done up in a small chignon, but she wore no hat nor any ornaments. It made her seem like such a simple innocent girl, such innocence and simplicity.
“Oh, Ms. Therell,” I sighed, “I wasn’t expecting you here.”
Kara sat down beside me, “You needn’t address me so formally, you know. We’ve already known each other long enough.”
I nodded and stared back into where the men were. They were gone and went to god knows where with only echoes of what Madden said left behind. A maid came by with a tray of tea and cookies, setting it down and excusing herself. Kara poured mine and gave me a sugar cookie. We sat in silence for a while until she turned to me.
“Paige...are you angry at my brother?” Kara asked, genuine concern and not hate filling her voice.
I put down my cup, “I...Well, it’s a complicated answer, Kara. On one hand, I can’t find a reason to be angry at him. He was a good lover, suitor, treated me with kindness, but on the other, he...was...cold.”
Kara tilted her head, “What do you mean?”
“He showered me with gifts, yes, but it never felt like I was his lover nor he to me,” I replied. “We just...ignored each other most of the time. Talking when we deemed necessary.”
Kara went silent and only looked at her cup. There was a pause, a deep breath then she spoke once more, “He never did say anything about you other than you being well. No update. No proposal plans. Oh, Paige, how dearly I wish to call you my sister-in-law! You don’t know how much I waited for him to come home with some ring in a black velvet box and a bouquet of flowers!”
I chuckled, “I’m afraid that’s unlikely to happen.”
I put my hand on hers and squeezed. She smiled and leaned on my shoulder. We sat like that, in silence, for a few minutes before she spoke once more.
“He tells me, sometimes, that he misses you,” Kara’s voice was soft and mellow. “He says he regrets not doing enough but other times, he’s angry.”
I sighed, “I know. I know, Kara.”
I sat back up and looked at her, “I do have hope that one day he’d still take me back, but I fear it may never happen. He says he misses me, but what proof do either of us have that he isn’t just saying that because no woman no longer falls for him and swoons for him?”
Kara sighed. There was a pause once more and she turned to me, “Don’t you want to know how he died?”
I nodded slightly. I heard her sniffling then call for a maid. In a matter of five minutes the maid came exited and came back with an envelope. Kara sighed and handed the small envelope over to me. I picked it up.
Widcombe Mortuary Services: Autopsy Report
Kara put a hand on my shoulder and excused herself. I sat there for a few more minutes before shoving the envelope in my apron pocket and heading back inside to fulfill my duties as a personal nurse.
I opened the envelope once I arrived in the cottage. It was a single piece of parchment, an autopsy report.
NAME: MADDEN THERELL
AGE: 25
SEX: MALE
CAUSE OF DEATH: STRYCHNINE
I folded the report back into the envelope and threw it on the desk. I laid in bed, not wanting to go through the tedious practice of undressing. I stared at the ceiling, thoughts rummaging and raising through my head. The envelope sat there on my desk, half opened. It was an incomplete report. There was no motive or whatever it is called in those autopsy reports.
I sat up in bed and walked over to the desk. My hand trembled and sweat as I held onto the report. I closed it, putting it in my bag. I undressed into my chemise and laid in bed.
How was the strychnine detected?
--------
I rose early that day and got dressed fairly quickly. I hadn’t time to put on one of my finer dresses and settled for a blouse and a skirt adding a waistcoat to look more decent. Barely anyone was awake, and the sun had only crept up the horizon. The street lamps were being extinguished, and only those who worked in factories were already making their daily commute.
Widcombe Hill was more barren than I expected. There was a village, stone pathways, shops, but barely anyone wandered around. I suppose it was too early in the morning, but in the distance, I could see the smoke coming from a grey building. I walked over and a wave of anxiety washed over me, reading the sign: Widcombe Mortuary.
The lights were on and a man in a washed out brown suit stood by the desk. He seemed to notice me, gesturing for me to come in. I opened the glass door, gathering what courage I could muster.
“What can I do for you, miss?” he asked, in an oddly jolly tone.
“I was wondering if you can provide me with an autopsy report?” I asked. It was an awkward question. I stumbled over my words and felt my cheeks burn up.
He nodded, “Sure thing, miss. Whose report are you looking for?”
After a few minutes, the man came from the back door and handed me the same brown envelope Kara gave the day before. I thanked him, sitting on one of the old brown dingy couches and opened the envelope.
It was a more complete report with the illustration and doctor’s notes. I read through it all, looking for the medical conclusion. Strychnine poisoning. Overdose. Then I saw it, in deep red ink at the end of the report.
CAUSE OF DEATH: STRYCHNINE POISONING
METHOD: SUICIDE
A wash of relief came over me, but I tried my best not to show the hawk of a man watching me. Instead, I sighed, dropping my shoulders and holding my hand to my mouth. I put the report back in the envelope and handed it back to the man. He placed the envelope on the counter and looked at me. His brows furrowed and there was sympathy in his eyes.
“If I may ask, miss” he said, “what is your relation to Madden Therell?”
I looked up to him, smiling meekly, “Oh...um...I’m a...friend. Yes, a friend.”
-------
I journeyed back to Greyfield Manor. I was a few minutes late as to my usual arrival, but I supposed no one would mind. Madden sat on the steps of the front door, fiddling with his pen. My footsteps echoed on the gravel, and his head shot up. His hazel eyes twinkled with what looked like relief.
“Good morning, Mr. Therell,” I said, curtsying slightly.
“Paige- Ms. Vincente, I-”
Mrs. Therell opened the door, greeting me with a smile all too wide. Her voice was too high, too cheerful to even be considered as genuine. I knew deep down this woman hated my guts and hated me even more for ‘trying to steal away her son.’ Madden stepped aside, silently greeting his mother before walking back inside. I glanced at him. He stopped for a few seconds, turning his head slightly towards me. His gaze wasn’t like that of his mothers, cold and unnerving, but rather, it was soft and almost innocent like a child’s. I stared back for a few seconds before blinking and looking back at Mrs. Therell with her wide smile.
“I was wondering, Ms. Vincente,” Mrs. Therell chirped, “if you could fix up a small concoction or prescription for my dearest Madden.”
I tilted my head, “For what, Mrs. Therell?”
Mrs. Therell nodded and sighed, “You see, for a few mornings now, Madden has been complaining about headaches pestering him when he first wakes up.”
I nodded and smiled, “I’m sure I can find something in your apothecary closet for him.”
Mrs. Therell thanked me, her voice rising like a woman when she’s drunk. She strutted off, oddly bubblier than when I usually see her. I shook my head, entering the manor and closing the door behind me. Why was this family so odd?
I journeyed to the apothecary closet, turning on the light. It was mustier than ever in there. The air was stuffy and almost suffocating, but like before, it was as clean as ever. I searched around for chlorodyne or if for some reason the oddly supplied apothecary closet did not have it, morphine would do.
After a few minutes of digging through bottles and odd boxes, I came across what looked like a new bottle of chlorodyne. I smiled, exiting the closet. As I was about to shut the door, my back bumped into someone. I turned around, almost being shoved back in the closet where it not for my hand on the doorknob.
Madden, once again, stood in front of me, awfully close as well. I sighed, putting the vial of chlorodyne in my apron’s pocket and met his gaze.
“Is there something you need, Mr. Therell?” I asked, crossing my arms.
Madden sighed, “Paige, please, can we at least talk?”
I shook my head and sighed, “Sir, if this is about personal matters, it’d have to wait. I have your medicine to fix up.”
I snaked past him and strutted along away from him. I didn’t know where I was headed. I wasn’t given any designated area to mix or prepare medicines. I walked along the halls as far away as I could from Madden. The bottle clinked in my pocket against the pens and what not. I stopped, pulling it out and examining it. I held the bottle up to the sunlight, squinting. An overdose would certainly require more than less than a quarter of a bottle.
Not From Ms. Vincente’s Perspective
Madden stood in place for a while, staring at the direction of where Paige walked off to. He stared at the closed door of the apothecary closet and sighed. He walked along the hallways as he did, waiting for something to happen.
It wasn’t long until he ended back in his chambers, lying on the bed, staring at the ceiling. Thoughts rummaged through his head with each one having a common theme: Paige Vincente. He thought of her more often than he liked, wanting to talk to her, to hold her, or to simply be on good terms with her. Every time she’d exit his room to fetch something, he felt alone again, staring at her notebook.
The butler knocked, announcing Jordan Matthews arrival. Madden’s face beamed with light and he immediately put on his coat to greet his friend. He rushed through the halls, slowing down upon seeing Paige examine a bottle in the sunlight. He stared at her for a while, admiring how the sun lit up on her like a spotlight. The pale blue dress he’d given almost turned white and glowed, accentuating her slight tan. She looked ever so smart, tilting her head and swishing the bottle around. Before she could turn to see him, Madden already walked the opposite direction.
Jordan greeted his friend with a smile, shaking his hand. The two sat in the drawing room with cups of tea and biscuits. They laughed and joked around, but the laughs soon died down, and Madden sighed more than usual.
“Is it Paige again?” Jordan asked.
Madden nodded, putting his cup down, “I’m afraid so...Jordan, I don’t know what to do. I don’t know what I feel. Every time she passes by, she walks through the gate, my whole world stops. It’s like she’s the only one there, and I...I never felt this before.”
Jordan tilted his head in confusion, “Whatever do you mean? You’ve never felt like this towards her? But you said you loved her even before-”
“I know!” Madden interrupted in a louder voice. “I know...I know I said I loved her before I died, but I never felt it.”
Madden leaned back on his chair and sighed. He glanced at the slightly open doorway and stared into the hall. A figure was walking closer in a pale blue dress that swayed ever so elegantly. It was Paige. Jordan leaned over, curious as to what caught his friend’s attention. Paige walked down the hall, and Madden was caught in a trance. His eyes softened, he leaned on his hand with a twinkle in his eyes and a small smile on his lips.
“I see what you mean,” Jordan commented, almost joking.
Madden turned to him, cheeks a bit red, and sighed, “And yet, she ignores me. Acts cold to me. One word answers, scoffs, glares, all of it.”
“I assume you’ve tried expressing your want to talk to her?”
Madden nodded and buried his face in his sands. He groaned, some would consider more of a scream. Jordan only looked at his friend, pity and sadness marking his face. Part of him felt responsible for Paige’s coldness. Part of him knew why Paige was so upset.
“Is it even worth trying to get her back?” Madden asked.
Jordan shrugged, “Do you love her?”
Madden nodded but he paused. He went silent, slouching in his chair and looked away, “Yes...No...Maybe...I don’t know.”
Jordan leaned forward, “What is it you feel whenever she is here? Whenever she is gone? When she steps out the front door as the night creeps up in the sky? Whenever she cares for you as your personal nurse?”
Madden sighed. He remembered all the events that transpired after his resurrection. The first day Paige walked through those gates again with the same lilac dress he’d given as her first gift. He felt his heart flutter at the sight of her like it had never before. It confused him, never had he felt the nervousness and anxiety to meet someone he’d known for a long time. When Paige spoke those first words, a cold and emotionless greeting, Madden’s heart sunk. He felt like his world had only begun to crumble.
After that, the feelings grew stronger. He’d convinced himself that it was just nostalgia or the excitement of seeing old and familiar company again, but that was simply not the case. Each day, he’d wait for Paige to enter through the open gates, he’d sit patiently as she’d ask him the routine questions. He admired her from a distance like he’d never done, not even when they were together. It was like an old spark was reignited into a bigger flame.
Yet, with every cold stare, every one word answer, there was a constant anguish. He pursued Paige, wanting to talk to her, wanting to know what hurt her, but she refused every attempt. Was he too emotional? Was he too insistent? Was he driving her away?
As the sun set on the day once again, Jordan and Madden stood in the hall, looking out the window. The creaking of the front door echoed once more and one could hear the distant goodbyes of Kara. A small figure walked in the distance in a pale blue gown, holding a doctor’s bag in hand. Madden looked at Paige, his lips curving into a small smile as he saw her round the corner only to disappear into the distance.
“I’ve never felt love like this before, Jordan,” Madden turned towards his friend. “Quite honestly, it terrifies me.”
From Ms. Vincente’s Perspective
I only caught glimpses of Madden and that bastard, Jordan, throughout the entire day. I was too busy preparing Madden’s chlorodyne to care about the gentlemen’s antics. Each time I passed, I always caught sight of Madden staring at me. It wasn’t a creepy or unnerving one, but rather, it was...comforting in the oddest sense.
Jordan Matthews was oddly quiet as well. The Mr. Matthews that I remember was unbearably chatty, wanting to meet with Madden almost every single day. I’d have to meticulously plan my routines, where I’d walk, when I’d ride the train, just to get a few minutes conversation with Madden. Every single day, Jordan would be there to swoop him up and it would be like I never existed.
I’d bought some ice cream for myself on the way to the cottage from a friendly Italian man. He had the greatest moustache and not even Mr. Therell could compete. I will admit, taking a spoonful of the cucumber ice cream was bittersweet. Both Madden and I had a strong sweet tooth, him more than me. On more than one occasion he’d professed his love for it, and honestly, it was more than he’d professed his love for me.
I washed the small glass container and spoon the ice cream came in. I was reminded of the days I was with Madden. The hot summer days when we’d spend some time making and churning the ice cream, making all sorts of flavors. Mrs. Therell never did like our ice cream, and I heavily suspected it was because I touched the ingredients and not because vanilla and strawberry were a horrible combination.
I sighed, putting the utensils back and heading upstairs to my bedroom. I changed into my nightgown and sat on my bed. I pulled out an old journal I had from the days I enjoyed with Madden. Each day I wrote in here when Madden gave me gifts or even paid me five minutes of his attention before Jordan took him away to god knows where.
Each day without fail, I’d try to bring him some homemade ice cream either I made or my neighbors, the Smiths, made. It’d come in a small pink container, wrapped in brown parchment, and I’d try to give it to Madden every day. On some days, he’d accept, carry it with him until he got home while other times, he’d refuse stating he’d be out too long. I tried my best to be a good lover, tried my best arranging small dates for us, but each and every time I’d be turned down all because Mr. Jordan Matthews was calling for him on the candlestick.
I will admit, I was a jealous lover and am still a jealous person. On the day Madden confessed his love to me, my heart fluttered, the whole sky brightened, everything seemed so light and airy. Life didn’t seem so dreary and boring. It felt nice to be wanted to feel at least for a split second you were indispensable.
---------
The next day was quite different at Greyfield Manor. The maids ran around in haste each one carrying everything from mop buckets to ornamental vases. One stopped what they were doing to take my coat then proceeded to rush into the scullery. I grabbed my medical bag and proceeded to dodge many servants and maids even up on my way to Madden’s room.
I knocked and patiently waited for an answer. There was an odd shuffling and cursing followed by the door flying open. I opened my mouth to speak, to greet Madden, but it appeared he already had greeted me first. He stood in the doorway, his hair falling to his face, ungelled and uncombed. His sleeves were rolled up, quite messily and his tie hadn’t even been fixed. His waistcoat, at the very least, was buttoned. I looked up to his eyes, they were kinder and softer and his lips curved into a crooked smile.
“Won’t you come in?” Madden asked, smiling and in a gentle tone.
I cleared my throat and stepped inside. I almost fainted at the mess his room was in. Sheets were sprawled on the floor and pillows lay, unfluffed, and in places where pillows don’t belong. His closet doors were wide open, and the divider was on the brink of falling over. I sighed and walked over to my usual space by the window and brought out my notebook. Personally, I didn’t see the use of having routine questions, but Mrs. Therell did insist on it.
“I hope you don’t mind doing the routine while I’m dressing,” Madden smiled.
I shook my head, trying my best to hide my cheeks turning red, “No, no, of course not, sir.”
I started asking the questions and adding in to check up on his chlorodyne and headaches. I focused my attention heavily on the notebook and writing down the answers, but of course, it would be rude not to maintain eye contact with your patient.
I was down to the last few questions when I noticed something odd about Madden. Not him or his person, but his clothes. He’d worn the same style suit, a more cool town brown waistcoat and a dark brown coat to match. I looked closer at his waistcoat with the buttons seemingly absent and the seams not looking as neat as they usually were.
“Um...Mr. Therell,” I cleared my throat. “Your waistcoat is...inverted.”
Madden tilted his head and looked in the mirror. His eyes grew wide and he proceeded to strip his coat and unbutton his waistcoat. I felt my cheeks rise in heat and my neck start sweating. I sat in place, trying my best to busy myself with my reports and prescriptions.
“There,” Madden held out his arms, “better?”
I nodded, trying to conceal my face, “Much...Much better, sir.”
He smiled, putting his coat back on. I hurried to tidy my things and excused myself. I exit the room and sigh heavily. I walk along the corridors, searching for Kara, quite possibly the only sane mind in the household.
“Paige! I was looking everywhere for you!” Kara waved and ran towards me.
I smiled, holding her hands, “So was I, Kara.”
We walked along the halls together stopping at the parlour to chat over tea. It was nice having a lighthearted chat with her about anything under the sun really.
“If I may ask,” I said, “why are the maids running about?”
“Oh, it’s Madden’s birthday tomorrow,” Kara said. “Mother always likes to have a decent sized party, and well, she said to think of it as his homecoming, in a sense.”
A bell rang through the hallways and Kara put her cup down. She grabbed my hand, not bothering to explain what was happening, and pulled me towards the garden. A good majority of the servants were there along with Mr. and Mrs. Therell, Madden, and even Jordan Matthews. All were gathered in the lush garden, talking and chatting. I clung onto Kara for dear life, confused and perturbed.
“What’s happening?” I whispered.
Kara leaned closer to me, “We usually practice for the dances the day before. Come, it’ll be fun.”
A servant came out with a gramophone and placed it on one of the outdoor tables. They produced a record from out of nowhere and placed it on the gramophone, putting the needle on the record and started cranking the handle.
Madden emerged from the crowd and walked to the center. All the maids murmured to each other, some giggling and silently squealing. He turned towards Kara and I and walked over. I expected him to ask Kara for the first dance, but instead, he offered his hand to me.
“May I have this dance, Ms. Vincente?”
I turned to Kara, a smile reaching from ear to ear curved on her face. She nudged me to accept and with a sigh, I agreed.
Madden took my hand and pulled me towards the center of the circle. The music played and we started dancing. For a moment, Madden’s attention was only on me. His hazel eyes were fixated on mine as we twirled around on the grass. We moved along and around like it was nothing. We danced until the music stopped. We stood there in each other’s arms in a pose, heaving and breathing heavily. A few beads of sweat trickled down his face and I felt the sweat drip behind my back.
A roar of applause came from the crowd as we both parted ways. Kara clapped excitedly and even hugged me once I returned. A few more pairs danced including Mr. and Mrs. Therell and even Jordan and Kara. I glanced towards Madden as he observed the next couples. He turned his head towards me and smiled. His hazel eyes glimmering despite the distance between us. I turned my head back to the center once more, but I glanced back for a moment one last time.
Kara gave me an invitation to Madden’s party to show to the guards. I had to journey back to my permanent residence in Bristol to fetch one of my evening gowns. I stood in front of the mirror, smiling at the best I could do alone. The gown was one Kara had commissioned for me as a birthday gift. It was a soft lavender shade, made out of what I could discern was silk taffeta. The gown had many ruffles ranging from the sleeves down to the skirt. I smiled, grabbing my fan and dance card before descending down and going out the door.
I showed my invitation to the guard and the carriage was let in. There were quite a lot of guests with the amount of carriages parked in the front yard. I exited the carriage and went inside. It was brighter than usual with all the lamps and chandeliers lit up. Kara was the first to greet me and we soon explored the party together.
It was soon time for the dances again. Everyone gathered in the garden, beautifully lit up with hanging lanterns and candlelight. The same gramophone was brought out and cranked. Madden, of course, had the first dance. He scanned the crowd, squinting his eyes, and walking in my general direction once more. He offered his hand, and this time, I didn’t hesitate in accepting.
We danced once more, the crowd falling silent and the music fading away. It was like time stopped once more and it was just the both of us, moving around the grass, each one locked in the other’s gaze. I saw the hint of a smile in his face, and the ways his eyes sparkled, completely fixated on me, for at least tonight. There was no sense in denying it. Everyone watched and observed as we both stared into each other's eyes, getting lost as the song progressed on. I couldn’t deny the obvious truth anymore, I was still in love with him.
The song ended and we bowed to each other. As we both rose, we gazed upon each other again. I couldn’t hide my smile nor my reddening cheeks. I curtseyed once more and disappeared into the crowd again. The other guests took their turn with the dances. The night progressed on, and I didn’t have any other contact with Madden.
I sighed, collapsing on my bed. The few minutes I had with Madden, dancing around the garden had sparked something in me that I didn’t know was still burning. I couldn’t sleep that night. My thoughts were a mess and rummaged through my brain.
I still loved him.
Madden was there again in the morning, sitting by the steps on the front door. I greeted him with a smile as he opened the door and offered to take my coat. I looked up the landing and I felt my world crash back down. Jordan was there, waving not to both of us, but to Madden. He excused himself running up the stairs and then their voices echoed throughout the now empty manor. It seemed emptier than before as I walked along towards the apothecary closet.
I opened the stark white door to the neat and barren closet, setting my medical bag down. I shut the door behind me and sunk to my knees. I was a delusional love stricken girl once more, sitting in an apothecary closet. I was blinded by my longing for love again that I didn’t realize that Madden’s attention was still unjustly divided.
I closed my eyes and sighed, remembering and recalling the recipe for ice cream I used to make for Madden.
Always two parts cream and one part sugar and the flavoring. Churn the container in salted ice and wait for a few minutes before serving.
Outside, I heard the footsteps and familiar chattering of Madden and Jordan as they passed. My fists balled and I felt the tears rise and blur my vision, but I composed myself. I breathed in deeply and stood up, dusting my skirt and apron.
I turned towards the shelf of the more synthetic vials of medicine, pulling towards me a small tray filled with laudanum, morphine, and the likes. I reached in the back of the tray, pulling to light a half empty bottle of strychnine. I sighed, clicking my tongue, and returning the bottle to the place where no light reached it. I put the tray back and stared at the vials of medicine before me.
Perhaps next time, I’d use a stronger poison and maybe even double the ice cream serving.
FIN