Among the Darkness Stirs

She reached to pick it up, saw the names in her handwriting, and sighed. How could she find out what had happened to the people listed here? How could she get the information she needed? She looked into the fire and then sat up straight. She had it!

The buildings at the edge of the workhouse grounds on the far side of the cottages. The mortuary. Would any records be there? Would she dare venture there alone? She stood up and quickly went upstairs. Frances was fast asleep. She came back downstairs and pulled her shawl down and placed it about her shoulders. This was madness! But she would only be gone a short time…. She would see if she could gain access to the building and then decide from there.

She glanced at the mantle clock and saw it was after ten. This was madness, but she had to try. Closing the cottage door behind her, she began the short walk across the orchards to the edge of the grounds. She looked across to her l

eft at the skeletal fruit trees that looked like they belonged in an Edgar Allan Poe nightmare poem.

In the low moonlight, she continued to walk and saw the small building before her. She glanced about, but saw no one. This was crazy! But she had come this far, and she wouldn’t turn back now. What was she afraid of, the bogeyman? There was no such thing.

She looked up at the mortuary building as it came into sight. It was a nondescript one-story building that looked much like the workhouse, but the red brick was not as bright. She went along the one side of the building and saw nothing. She turned right and was met by a small door. She tried the doorknob, but it didn’t turn.

She pulled the shawl about her in the chilly air and wondered if she was following her mother into madness. This was insane!

She moved along the building, turning right again. She saw another door that appeared larger, and when she turned the knob, it moved. Her heart caught in her throat. Should she enter? Should she dare? She had come this far…

She turned the knob and stepped inside the room. The temperature dropped inside the building. It was as cold inside as it was outside. There was a small hallway with wooden chairs along one side and, beyond it, a white room with gaslights. Should she move forward into the room or down the hallway?

After a moment of debate, she chose the hallway and passed several closed doors with a small window at the top of each. She must look for a place where the records were kept. Soon enough, she found the place. She stopped before a door with the word “records” on a sign above it.

She looked down the hallway and then back at the door. She opened it and discovered a row of wooden cabinets inside the room. She came to the first one and tried to pull it open, but it was locked. She tried another one, then another.

They were all locked.

“Damn,” she swore lightly under her breath.

Now what? She looked back at the row of cabinets, wondering if she could pry them open, but she had not brought anything with her. She was about to look inside the room for a letter opener when she heard a noise outside.

Her heart thudded wildly. She looked up at the small glass window and then the door to the floor. The gaslights in the hallway illuminated the floor. She watched underneath the door as someone passed by.

She covered her mouth with her hand and closed her eyes, willing herself to remain calm. She pressed her ear to the door but heard nothing. What should she do now? Wait for a few minutes? Spend the night here inside the records room? Impossible. She had done nothing wrong, she reasoned. But how would she explain her presence in the mortuary? There was no reason for her to be here.

She eased the door open and looked down the hallway. No one was about. She stepped into the hallway and took one slow step and then another. She was just passing an office door when the door swung open and she was jerked inside.

A body pressed her against the wall, a hand over her mouth. For a second, panic went through her, but then she saw the handsome face of Henry.

“I think you are out of your mind,” he whispered harshly to her. She narrowed her eyes at him. “I saw you leave the cottage, and I followed you. I didn’t know where you’re going so late at night. I couldn’t believe it when you came here.” He finally removed his hand from her mouth.

“Why did you follow me?” she whispered back. “You think all of this is nonsense. Fantastical,” she repeated his words to her.

He looked down into her face. “I want to keep you safe, Audrey.”

Audrey felt herself grow warm at his nearness and words. “I can look out for myself.”

“Yes, you can. But I—“

“I’m sure I heard a noise,” came a voice in the hallway. Audrey and Henry froze and turned their heads towards the door.

“There’s no one about and we don’t have time for this,” came another voice.

Audrey met Henry’s eyes, and he shook his head, silently telling her not to make a sound.

“Well, you’re the one that’s always worried about someone finding out,” said the first voice.

Audrey turned her head to listen to the two men, her heart pounding in her chest. Were these the two men who were killing the inmates? Would Audrey and Henry be next?

“Of course I’m worried. That’s why we had to kill that meddlesome bitch.”

Audrey took a sharp intake of breath, and her eyes widened as Henry put his hand over her mouth again.