Among the Darkness Stirs

A shiver ran up her spine. What did the old woman see? What things were not as they seemed? She turned the page to see more writing.

I am now more certain than ever. I had my doubts as it could be possible but now I know. I will continue to watch.

Audrey frowned at the words. What was she certain of? She flipped through page after page of the writing and noticed the handwriting was becoming more erratic and spidery. She looked once more over her shoulder and then back to the notebook. She found a final entry in the diary.

Alistair is dead. He was coughing badly towards the end. Consumption? That’s what they want everyo

ne to believe.

Audrey looked up from the words. That’s what they want everyone to believe. Who was “they”? And what was Marguerite insinuating, that consumption had not killed him? Even she remembered the heavy coughing that had so reminded her of her father.

She shook her head. There must be an explanation for these words. Marguerite had lived a long time in the workhouse. She was self-segregated from the others and did not socialize often. She must be having strange thoughts, and with no one to confide in, she wrote her feelings down.

But Alistair Hillby had certainly died of consumption. There could be no mistake. And if that old man had coughed up blood and had any of the symptoms her father had, that proved it. She set the diary aside and sighed. Poor Marguerite. The lady must be quite lonely. She would go into town on her next day off and purchase her something special.

Audrey sat across from the doctor who had examined her mother. He was not young but not terribly old as she might have expected. He had spent some time with her mother that afternoon and had called her into his office in town after class was finished.

“Ms. Wakefield,” he acknowledged.

“Dr. Engle,” she said in return, taking the seat across from his desk. “Thank you so much for seeing my mother. I appreciate your time.”

He waved her away. “Henry Ryland is well-regarded. He asked me for a favor and I was happy to oblige.” He folded his hands on his desk and got down to business. “I spent some time with your mother. As discussed, it was under the pretense of my charity work and how she might help assist. You and I agreed not to upset her about the true nature of my visit.”

Audrey licked her lips, suddenly nervous. “Yes.”

“At first, your mother talked of your father, her life in Kingsdown, and the conversation went well.” Dr. Engle leaned back and pulled a pipe from his coat pocket. He lit the pipe and took a small puff. “She has a concern which weighs on her mind and seems to fill up most of her day. We talked at length on the subject, and the more we talked, the more animated she became.”

Audrey nodded, knowing the concern was their move and the many changes.

“She… is mostly concern about what she calls the shadow man,” he told her softly.

Audrey frowned, not expecting that answer. “The shadow man?”

“Apparently she has seen him several times outside her window and is concerned that he is up to nothing good.”

“I see.”

“She says she must keep an eye on him. She regards it as her duty to keep you and your sister safe.” The doctor studied her as he took a puff of his pipe. “Do you know if she has made any other attempts to see the man?”

Audrey felt tension in the front of her head. “I found her in the orchards next to the cottages. She was lying in wait for him.”

“I don’t think I need to tell you, Ms. Wakefield, that your mother is seeing things not there. She has manifested this shadow man as a way to focus her concerns.”

Audrey’s heart squeezed. “Her concerns?”

“She lives in a foreign world now, and she can control nothing. This man, this figure of darkness she can hunt down. She can save her family. It’s the mind’s way of keeping her somewhat sane. Of controlling an uncontrollable world.” The doctor kept his tone soft and soothing, but it didn’t help the worry inside Audrey.

“Somewhat sane?” she echoed the words.

He nodded. “She’s gone through much. Losing her husband and way of life has been difficult for her.”

Audrey recalled the words Henry had said to her in much the same manner. I only know that whereas you seem to bloom and thrive under these difficult circumstances, it has affected your mother most adversely.

A painful lump formed in Audrey’s throat. “What can be done for her, doctor? How can we help her?”

He cleared his throat. “I would like to admit her into the asylum. For a short time. Perhaps a month. Maybe less. I would like to take her on as my patient to study her.”

“No,” Audrey said sharply. She didn’t need to think about it.