Page 77 of When She Was a Governess
“What was it like?” Sophia asked, even though she was frightened to hear the details. “If you can bear to tell me.”
Henry was quiet for a moment. “It wasn’t what you might imagine. Not like the public asylums you may have heard about. There were no chains or cells or screaming. Dr. Morrison ran it as a rest home. A country estate in Hampshire with gardens and walking paths. There were perhaps a dozen patients, all from good families. All dealing with their own demons.”
“What did they do for you?”
“They gave me structure when I had none. Routine. We’d wake at the same time each day, take breakfast together. Then walks in the gardens—supervised, of course. Afternoons were for reading, or occupational tasks. Simple things—tending plants, woodworking. Things to occupy the hands and mind. Dr. Morrison would meet with me several times a week. Just talking. About Eleanor, about my guilt. About how to move forward.”
“Was it peaceful? After everything you’d endured?”
“It was. That’s what made it bearable.” He looked at her. “If it had been one of the horrid places you hear about, I think it would have broken me further. But Dr. Morrison believed in gentle treatment. Rest. Fresh air. Time. He said melancholia of the mind was like an illness of the body—it required care and healing, not punishment.”
“I dare say, I agree.”
“He was a wise man. He saved my life. We spent many hours speaking about my mother. Her part in all of it. He helped me see that Eleanor’s death wasn’t my fault. That my mother had manipulated her. That grief was normal, but that what I wasfeeling had gone beyond grief into something darker.” Henry’s jaw tightened. “He helped me to understand that the way my mother had been my entire life played a big part into this darkness I felt. That I had never felt worthy of love because of her treatment of me. He helped me see her for who she really is.”
“That was good, surely?”
“Yes. It allowed me to let go of some of my guilt and put the blame where it belonged. On my mother.” He took a shuddering breath. “When I left, I was better. Functional. But I was never the same. There’s always this… this shadow. This fear that I could slip back into that darkness. And it doesn’t take much, as you can see, to make me doubt myself all over again. That maybe it was all my fault.”
“I can understand that. But why do you feel such shame? Why did you not share this with me before?”
“Because I was so weak I had to be sent away. Had to be watched to make sure I didn’t hurt myself. That this is the man you are married to.”
“But you got better. You are here now, Henry. Loving me. Loving Amelia. You fought past the shame and sadness to keep living. For that you must be commended. My heart bursts with pride when I think of who you are. What you’ve overcome. If you had not gone to the sanatorium, you would not be with me right now. You would not have been around for Amelia. And I cannot bear the thought of life without you. Thus, it is not shame you should feel, but pride.”
“None of that will matter. My mother’s going to use that to prove I’m unfit. We could lose Amelia. My actions could make you lose Amelia. My past could break your heart.”
“We are not going to lose Amelia. Your mother will not win.”
“If she does? You would never be able to forgive me.”
“You will not need my forgiveness because Amelia is not going anywhere. You, perhaps, are not thinking straight,because of fear. In a day or two, you will see that your mother’s threats are empty. She put on a great show for you tonight. She wanted you to spiral. To suffer. And as for thinking any of this would affect how I feel about you—it does not, nor will it ever. I, too, have had moments so dark I prayed to God that I not wake the next morning. There have been times I no longer wanted to live.”
“When?” His eyes were suddenly focused intensely on her face.
“After my brothers left to fight in the wars. I was without them for the first time. All alone at the Langstons, working as a scullery maid. Abused by my cousins. Despised by the other servants. I missed my brothers terribly. In fact, I was convinced I would never see them again. That they would be killed. And it all made me so tired. Wishing for an eternal sleep.” She squeezed his hands. “I know what that darkness feels like. I know what it is like to think the world would be better off without you in it.”
“Come here,” Henry said, holding out his arms.
She let him pull her to him, sat on his lap, her arms circling his neck.
“I am sorry,” he whispered into her hair. “For all the pain you have felt. For pushing you away tonight when you tried to help me. Because, God knows, you have saved me. I don’t feel alone any longer. Not with you by my side.”
“We agree, then? We will fight. As a team?” She kissed his forehead, her fingers in his thick hair. “And you will have a little faith that all will be well?”
“I will try.”
“We found each other despite everything in our pasts,” Sophia said. “That must tell us something.”
“What exactly?”
She chuckled. “I cannot say with confidence.”
That made him laugh, pulling her close. “My darling wife. How can I make you happy? Tell me what you want. What you need.”
“You have already made me happy,” Sophia said. “I want and need you. And Amelia. And our wonderful staff. I have everything I’ve ever dreamed of having. And now, you will come upstairs to my bed and sleep off all this whiskey.”
Like the drunk docile lamb he was, he took her hand and let her lead him out of the room and up the stairs to her room, albeit on somewhat wobbly legs.
