but nevertheless, that was perfectly understandable given the circumstances . . . But now . . . They were on holiday, weren’t they? Could John have brought her to a virtually deserted island in the middle of the Celtic Sea, to a strange doctor, for some other reason? Esther had never imagined him capable of subterfuge but was now forced to consider the possibility.
As she sat, there was a heavy tread outside the room, the click of a key turning and the rattle of a door handle.
“Mrs. Durrant, is that you?”
A female voice, a clipped accent. It was not the housekeeper then; Esther remembered her. She shuffled away from her position against the door, far enough for the person attached to the voice to push it open and see her sitting there. “Oh my goodness.” A woman with tightly curled brown hair bound by a starched white cap, a spotless apron covering a sky-blue dress, looked at her with concern. “Mrs. Durrant. I expected you would sleep for longer and that I would be here when you awoke. Well,” she said. “This all must be a terrible mystery to you, I suppose.”
“What am I doing here? And where is my husband?” Esther glared at her, suddenly furious.
“Please stay calm.” The woman’s voice was soothing but Esther was not interested in being placated. “Your husband is only considerate of your welfare, you must understand that. It was necessary to sedate you, I’m afraid; Dr. Creswell thought it for the best. Your husband has assigned the care of you to us for the time being. This is a place where we heal those who are sick, not in body but in mind.”
“What? What on God’s earth does that mean? How can he even do that? And who exactly are you?”
“My name is Jean Bardcombe; I’m a nurse, but you probably gathered that.” The woman touched the cap that indicated her position. “You are unwell and it is our job to help make you better again. The binding is because your husband said that you scratch yourself. Without being aware of it.”
Shame washed its ruddy tide over Esther, making her shrink away from the nurse. It was true. Ever since the baby had gone she’d woken up every morning with rusty bloodstains streaking the bedsheets and long, angry welts across her forearms and torso, her thighs . . . She had no idea how it happened, for she slept each night as if she had tumbled into a dark well.
Deep in the marrow of her was the thing she’d been trying to avoid, brought to the surface by this strange new place. She was bad, rotten at the core, not fit to be called a mother. What was worse was that she had brought this on herself. She probably deserved it. That was why he’d been taken from her, her sweet baby, her second son. That was why she was here, locked up.
Still, some part of her refused to give in. “Where is John? Is he downstairs? I demand to see him. John—” Esther’s voice rose and she shouted through the open door to make herself heard.
The nurse shook her head. “Your husband has returned to London.”
Esther was dumbfounded. He’d left her there? She’d heard of husbands committing their wives to insane asylums—for she was under no illusion, now, that was what this godforsaken place must surely be—but had never imagined John would do such a thing to her, despite everything that had happened. She’d always believed that he loved her, depended on his kindness. Would he have really thought this the most appropriate course of action?
“Exactly how long will I be here for?” She still couldn’t comprehend that she was a prisoner on this desolate island. Marooned miles from home, miles from Teddy, her fate surely no better than the shipwrecked sailors from the captain’s story.
“That really depends on you, Mrs. Durrant. If it helps, try to think of it as a convalescence if you like. You’ve been through a great deal.”
Esther railed at the patronizing tone. She was incensed. How dare John discuss their private matters with strangers—no matter if they were a doctor or nurse—without telling her?
A tall figure appeared behind the nurse and Esther recognized Dr. Creswell.
“Ah, Mrs. Durrant, there you are. I trust Nurse Bardcombe has explained matters satisfactorily?” He gave her a smile that momentarily brightened the dim room but Esther did not return it.
“I’m afraid there’s been a dreadful mistake—” she began.
“Shush now, don’t upset yourself,”