CHAPTER ONE
Ashthorne House had the strangest combination of desolation and grandeur Adelaide had ever encountered. The grounds on which it sat were woefully neglected. Weeds sprouted from the gaps in the stone steps, and some of the brickwork was crumbling, but everything else about the house was striking.
Even the door, which was solid oak, exquisitely carved into its namesake. A robust trunk merged into branches reaching heavenward. The negative space between the branches, filled with gold and red glass, gave the impression of an autumn sunset. The craftsman’s skill was clear, as Adelaide barely saw the join connecting the two halves of the door.
Inside, the hallway took Adelaide aback. With its marble floor and grand staircase, she half expected the lady of the house to come sweeping down it, demanding to know what had brought her here.
An extraordinarily tall woman greeted her, introducing herself as McGowen, but offering no first name. She regarded Adelaide with curiosity, ushering her in without another word and not once breaking her gaze.
McGowen had the most unremarkable features Adelaide had ever seen. A complete absence of character coupled with the absence of a first name added to the notion that this was not a fully formed woman, but a cold marble blank upon which a skilled sculptor may carve. It was rare for Adelaide to feel short, having always stood a little taller than her classmates.
McGowen continued to stare down at her. Eventually Adelaide faltered and spoke.
“I am in the right place, aren’t I? Ashthorne house?”
A faint cry answered, though Adelaide could not tell from where it had emanated.
“If you weren’t in the right place, I’d have told you.”
Against her father’s will, Adelaide had joined the Voluntary Aid Detachment, received her basic first aid training from The British Royal Red Cross Society, and found herself at the newly appointed convalescent home. In her mind, she’d had no other choice but to offer her assistance, her own brother, Clark, having died in service the previous year.
His death had been the catalyst that sent her mother spiralling ever further down into her barbiturates addiction. Adelaide had grown used to occasionally finding her mother passed out on a chair. After Clark died, occasionally turned to daily, and she’d sometimes notice her father looking at her mother with such detestation that she knew he was willing her to take too much of the vile white powder one day, and never wake up from her slumber.
Adelaide wished that too sometimes. It hurt her to think like that, but every time she’d had to look into those vacant eyes, revulsion erupted from deep within her core. It wasn’t fair the way she got to run away from Clark’s death, while the rest of them had to feel that pain daily. It was the reason she’d had to get away; the hatred of what her mother had become, and fear that the same future awaited her.
“They’ve tasked us to do monumental work here,” McGowen raised both hands in a grand, sweeping gesture that caused Adelaide to step back lest she be struck, “and I expect you to show proper respect to the Doctor.”
Her tone held all the zealotry of religious fever that skirted along the edge of sexual.
“Of course,” Adelaide said. “I’ve been told he is quite innovative regarding his treatments.”
“The man is doing monumental work, although he’s not yet aware of just how significant it is.”
She gestured for Adelaide to follow.
“Gentlemen callers are strictly forbidden,” McGowen said, as she led her through the house. “In fact, we discourage all dealings with the villagers.”
“You’ll have no trouble with me,” Adelaide said.
McGowen ignored her and continued laying down the rules of house and employment. Adelaide, taking her cue from McGowen, did not hear a word, focused as she was on the house’s wilting beauty. Marble hearths thick with coal dust, yet long grown cold. Conspicuous squares of vibrant colour remained on faded flocked wallpaper, its edges peeling away at the skirting.
Finally, they reached the attic room; metal bedsteads ran the length of both walls. The low light of a winter’s afternoon streamed through the large porthole window overlooking the front of Ashthorne. Odours of lightly sanded wood and dust filled Adelaide’s nose. It reminded her of her boarding school dormitory.
“Naturally, you will share the quarters of the household staff.” All the beds were bare, save for their thin mattresses. “Not that any reside on the premises anymore.”
Like most grand houses, the Great War had dealt Ashthorne a substantial blow. The combination of losing his young workforce and the loss of business had decimated Bramwell Ashthorne’s livelihood. Ashthorne House had once bolstered a full roster of servants and maids. Now it had been reduced to two, a mother and daughter who lived in the village. The pair only worked Monday to Friday for a few hours a day, leaving the Ashthornes to fend entirely for themselves over the weekend.
McGowen told Adelaide this with something approaching glee, and her remissness about the Ashthorne’s financial situation shocked Adelaide somewhat. There was not a hint of gratefulness for their opening their home to the cause.
“Remember, you are not in their employ. You are not to be torn from your duties by running around making tea and cleaning up after them.”
“Are there many nurses here?”
“No dear, you are the only one they have graced us with thus far.”
“Is that usual?” Adelaide said. An edge of nerves fringed her words.
“No.”
Adelaide nodded as she stepped into the room, choosing a naked bed by the window.
“The nature of our work here deals primarily with the mind and soul. The injuries of these men are horrific, but for the most part healed. Try not to stare at them.” McGowen said.
Adelaide was insulted. What kind of woman does she take me for?
“Of course.”
“We haven’t been here very long. I was blessed to have been with Doctor Roskopf at his last posting. He is an extraordinary man who deserves the utmost respect. His work will change the world.”
McGowen appraised her once more before marching away.
Adelaide unpacked her meagre belongings as the weak winter light dimmed and then died.
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