The Secret of Kolney Hatch (28 page)

Paul had chosen a traditional black suit with a white shirt that buttoned to his neck and a black bowtie. His taupe on black vest produced a gold hue. Some men were dressed more theatrically with white wigs and hideous long-nosed, colorful masks. Their laughs were equally as theatrical, and Paul envied their carefree attitudes. The women were dressed more elegantly, long and shorter sequined dresses and glittery colorful masks, which they held to their eyes by the masks’ dainty poles. Some women wore feather headbands with jewels on the side of their finger-waved bobbed hair.

Paul watched one of the women in a beautiful red long dress tip her head gently back as she laughed, her champagne glass tipping slightly back also.

 Though the conversations seemed casual, an air of mystery encompassed the room. Paul had no idea which of these people he knew.

In the back corner was the bar, which was always fully stocked with a variety of liquor and drink—champagnes, wines, gins, whiskeys, the list was endless with the Loxleys. Guests could have anything they desired.  

As he observed the joyful guests, Paul glimpsed a bobbed-haired blonde in a sleek golden gown and mask. His heart pounded fast. Was that Rosalind? No. It couldn’t be, could it? In a split second, he lost sight of the woman in the throng of people.

Paul recognized Constable Wyatt standing at one of the buffet tables. A servant placed a pastry onto one of his plates. Though the constable had a mask, his egg-shaped head was unmistakable. Paul knew that the constable was personally invited to the party by John Loxley.

Not only was he a long-standing friend of the Loxley family, but John had paid the constable a few pounds on more than one occasion to keep John’s cousin Arthur out of the cell. John had told Paul that in confidence one evening when he had felt dishonorable about the arrangement, but it was what his father had done and his father before him.

Paul gently touched his stab wound—perhaps he should have stayed home, he thought.

 “Paul Watson, you may be wearing a mask, but I know it’s you,” a voice said, and Paul turned to see John Loxley’s blue eyes peering at him from behind his dark-green mask; only the bottom of his large smile could be seen.

“John, good to see you mate,” Paul said. John gave Paul a friendly pat on the shoulder.

John took off his mask for a moment, a look of concern in his eyes.

“We’re all so glad you’re okay, Paul, honest.”

“Thank you.”

Everyone had heard about the fire, but no one knew about Paul’s other discoveries at the asylum except for the police and what he told Claire, Richard, and Oscar. He planned to keep it that way.

“Come on, you need a drink,” John said, ushering Paul toward the bar.

“As long as it’s not whiskey. Can’t stand the taste anymore,” Paul said coolly.

“No problem, Watson, I’ll fix you something better,” John said. Three men appeared by John’s side.

“I think I know you,” the man in a black mask similar to Paul’s said. Paul knew it was Richard immediately. “Yes, you do look familiar.”

“I’m sorry; who are you?” Paul joked.

“Paul,” another voice said. It was Edgar Loxley. “My brother told me what happened to you. I’m so very sorry that you had to experience something so awful.”

“Thank you.”

“But he’s here now, and that’s all that matters.”

“Bet you could find yourself a nice lass here,” Richard interjected.

“’Course he can,” another voice said. Paul recognized it as Roger Loxley’s voice. His mask accentuated his sunken dark eyes and bucked teeth.

“Paul needs a drink. I’m going to get him one.”

John walked away, but the others stayed.

“What’s it been, an entire year since I’ve last seen you, Paul?” Edgar asked from behind his golden mask.

“About that,” Paul answered.

“Sure a long time,” he said.

“A long time indeed.”

“So, how do you feel?” Richard asked. “I’m surprised to see you. Thought maybe you wouldn’t feel up to it.”

“I didn’t actually. Wasn’t gonna come, but Eda talked me into it.”

“Eda, I remember her,” Edgar said. “Wonderful lady. How’s she?”

“She’s well. Off to Hemsby to visit her niece for Christmas.”

“Tell us more about the fire,” Roger said.

“He doesn’t want to talk about it. Believe me. I’ve tried,” Richard said.

“But there are interesting details about it I’m sure… how did it begin? Did someone set it? Or the asylum itself. What was it like?”

Paul did not want to talk about the asylum or the fire. He especially did not want to talk about the tunnels or anything sinister he discovered. He wanted his life to return to normal. He wanted to converse with his friends the way he had always done—about women, and life, and fun. But here he was, tired, cold, and lonely. Not even his friends could make him happy.

“See, he doesn’t want to talk,” Richard said.

Suddenly John returned with a drink for Paul, a glass of gin, neat.

“Leave the man alone, Roger,” John said. “Now all of you grab a lady and dance.”

Roger and John entered the dance floor, swooping up a masked woman to dance with, while Richard returned to the bar. Edgar stayed behind with Paul. Paul wondered where Claire was, why she hadn’t been with Richard.  

 “Listen, Paul, anything you need, anything at all, don’t hesitate to ask. I speak on behalf of my brothers as well.”

“Thank you, Edgar; you’re a good man.”

“Well, you’ve always been there for all of us in times of need, accepted us exactly as we are. No hidden agendas. Some of these people here,” he said, taking a sip of his wine, “They don’t even care to know us. They only come for what we can give them.”

“Yes, well, some people just don’t have compassion for others.”

“I suppose it’s my brother’s fault. John always enjoys the big dance. I may love the theater, but when it comes to my personal affairs, I’ve always preferred something more low-key.”

“Nothing wrong with that. I’m the same.”

“I need another glass of wine. I’ll see you later,” Edgar said.

“Edgar, thanks for your concern.”

“Of course.”

Then Paul was alone again.

In the corner of the room, Paul caught a glimpse of Claire enjoying a conversation with two women. She looked radiant, in a knee-length gold-sequined dress, a white mask trimmed in gold and white gloves. He knew it was her instantly, and he couldn’t take his eyes away from her. She did not see him yet, and he only watched her from afar. Claire turned her head slightly, as if she intuitively felt Paul’s presence. When their eyes met across the room, they stared at each other for a second, but it seemed like an eternity.

        Her eyes softened, and she smiled. Paul walked toward her slowly. Now he recognized one of the women standing next to her. It was Petunia Pennyworth.

        “You all look radiant,” he said to the three women. The longer he looked at the women, the more he knew his statement was true. Even Petunia looked beautiful in an all black-sequined gown and her green mask.

        “Thank you, Paul,” Petunia answered.

        Claire smiled.

        “This is my friend, Rose,” Claire said.

        Rose had dark hair and eyes. She was beautiful, in her pale pink dress and pearls. She wore a tiny white mask.

        “Nice to meet you,” Paul said. The name Rose made him think of Amy. Had she received his letter? Would she come to visit him now that he was home?

“Well, I only came by to say hullo,” Paul said looking into Claire’s eyes.

Suddenly Richard was next to them.

        “Well, I see you’ve found Paul,” he said to Claire.

        “I found them actually.”

        “You’ve introduced him to Rose, haven’t you?”

        “Of course,” Claire said, the smile leaving her face.

        “Well, are we going to the dance floor or are we standing in the corner all evening?” Richard asked.

        “I don’t think Paul can dance,” Claire said worriedly.

        “Nonsense. He’s fine.”

        “She may be right,” Paul said. “I think I may have to sit out this year.”

        “Blast, alright. Well, come on Claire,” Richard said. “Paul, why don’t you keep Rose and Petunia company for awhile?”

        Suddenly, Paul did not feel well. He felt hot, and his bandage needed to be changed.

        “Actually, I think it best if I go home.”

        “Are you all right, Paul?” Claire asked.

        “Not really.”

        “Want me to help you home?” Richard asked.

        “I could go with you,” Petunia said.

        “No. Stay. All of you. I can manage, I promise. Just...tell John I’m sorry I have to leave.”

        “I’ll tell the servant to get his things,” Claire said to Richard.

        “Alright, be safe mate. I’ll visit you tomorrow.”

        Richard patted Paul gently on the shoulder. Then he turned to Claire.

        “I’ll get us some drinks while you see him out. Would you like some champagne?”

        “Yes, thank you.”

        Claire walked slowly with Paul toward the door.

        “Paul,” he heard Claire’s soft voice say, and he turned to look at her. She rested her hand on his shoulder. “Are you all right? I mean, you know...”

        “I’m fine,” he answered calmly.

        “You say that, but I don’t think you are.”

         Paul stopped and looked into Claire’s eyes.

        “Claire, all you need to know is that you look beautiful tonight.”

        Claire gave him a small smile, and soon an uncomfortable energy filled the room. While the butler retrieved Paul’s coat, both Claire and Paul were quiet, only staring into each other’s eyes.

        “I must apologize,” Paul said breaking the silence.

        “You have nothing to be sorry for,” Claire answered gently touching Paul’s shoulder.

           “I do. I took advantage of a situation. I put your marriage with Richard at risk.”

“But I don’t regret anything that’s happened between us. I only wish…”

        Her voice trailed off, but Paul knew what Claire was going to say.

        “Yes, me too.”

        They were silent again.

        “Are you sure you don’t want Richard to take you home?”

        “Yes, I’m sure. Thank you.”

        Paul put on his coat and caught Claire in a gentle embrace then.

        “Goodbye, Claire.”

        “Goodbye.”

        Paul was about to leave, but stopped just before the front door and turned to face Claire again.

        “London will always be my greatest love...” he said softly, offering Claire a loving smile.

        Claire nodded as she smiled, and her eyes filled with tears of happiness and of sorrow—happiness because Paul would always love her and sadness because they would never be together.

        With one last look into Claire’s eyes, Paul left for his home.

forty eight

BEHIND THE WALLS

“Do you think he would fancy me?” Rose asked, as she stood next to Petunia in the corner of the large ballroom.

        Petunia had no clue where Phillip was at the moment. Claire went off to dance with Richard and left Petunia standing with her friend Rose, who seemed as dim-witted as Beatrice. Rose was asking about Paul Watson since the moment he greeted them. It was clear to Petunia that Rose had not observed the obvious chemistry between Paul and Claire.

        “Perhaps,” Petunia answered reluctantly.

        “He’s the most handsome man I’ve ever met.”

        But Petunia was no longer paying attention to Rose. She was intently watching Constable Wyatt as he wiped the brow of his tall forehead with the hand that was not holding a drink. Petunia noticed the constable was trying to get John Loxley alone all evening. She wondered why he was so unyielding about speaking with John.

        “If you’ll excuse me for a moment, Rose,” Petunia said as she made her way toward the Constable, who had cornered John at the bar. She needed to hear their conversation. She did not know why, but the entire situation seemed suspicious.

                      When she arrived near the bar, the constable was tapping John’s shoulder with his stubby finger.

“John, I must speak with you,” Constable Wyatt said.

John laughed.

“Wyatt, I told you, of course. Whatever you have to say, as long as you’re having a good time.”

Petunia pretended not to listen.

“What I have to say is not for others to hear,” the constable said in a low tone.

“Alright,” John said, sensing that what the constable had to say was truly important. The two walked away then, and Petunia, glancing around her to make sure no one was watching, decided to follow them.