The Dark Between Part 33

Elsie smiled. "You've given three conditions."

Kate raised a threatening eyebrow.

"All right, all right, I agree to your conditions," Elsie said with a smile. "Are you satisfied?"

The corners of Kate's mouth lifted. "I suppose so. For now, anyway."

Elsie thought she might come near-to take her hand or even offer an embrace-but Kate's eyes darted to the shelves instead.

"I must finish my work. There's another cart to shelve, and I'd like to get through the day without Freeman scolding me."

"I could help."

Kate shook her head. "I'd rather do it myself. I'm actually going to miss this library when I'm done." She trailed her hand along the shelf before turning back to Elsie. "See you this evening?"

"Actually, there was something else-"

"Poole," cried Miss Freeman from across the room. "Are you quite done visiting? We still have much to do before we lock up for the day."

Kate grimaced. "I'd better get back to it."

"We'll talk more tonight," said Elsie, ashamed by her own relief.

Tonight, she rea.s.sured herself. I will tell them both tonight.

Elsie left the library with a lighter heart. The tangled threads of her life were sorting themselves out, weren't they? She'd settled matters with her uncle quite satisfactorily. And not only was she on more intimate ground with Kate, but she'd actually convinced the girl to stay at Summerfield.

Asher was another matter. Perhaps she could have handled that conversation more delicately, but the old Elsie would have been so afraid of hurting feelings that she would have let him continue to hope. That was much worse than a blunt refusal, wasn't it? Kate was right-she had strung him along. She'd enjoyed the attention, had even encouraged it at times. But now that was over, and he knew it. If it was possible for true friends.h.i.+p to thrive between a woman and a man, she hoped she could have that with Asher.

Once she'd told them everything, once they'd found Tec and somehow helped him, she would be free of Simon. Surely those visitations of warmth and tenderness would fade, and he would haunt her no longer.

She made her way back to the Gatehouse through the garden, pausing to gaze at the blackened sh.e.l.l of the old lab. She'd avoided it for days, but soon she must work up the courage to retrieve her camera. She'd nearly braced herself to do so when she heard someone calling her name.

"There you are, Miss Elsie," Millie said rather breathlessly, withdrawing an envelope from her ap.r.o.n pocket. "You have a telegram. You weren't in your bed, and I've been looking all over for you."

Elsie took the envelope. "I was at the library, talking to Kate."

"Well, I'm glad to have delivered it." Millie eyed the envelope expectantly.

Elsie fought the urge to hide the thing behind her back. "Millie, would you mind bringing tea to Aunt's office? She works such long hours without a break. I'd like to surprise her with some refreshment and company."

"Of course, miss." Millie nodded slowly, making a poor job of hiding her disappointment. "I'll do that now."

Elsie slipped the envelope into her pocket and took her time returning to the Gatehouse. Her heart thudded as she climbed the stairs to her room. Once safely inside with the door shut, she sat in front of the mirror. With trembling hands she applied her penknife to the envelope and pulled out the thin piece of paper.

The telegram was from Paris, dated the day before. The sender's name was left blank, but her heart leapt at the words.

SOMEHOW I FEEL YOU WITH ME.

With great concentration, Elsie returned the paper to the envelope and placed it in the drawer with her unopened bottles of Chlorodyne.

She was not insane.

And Simon was alive.

Chapter 42.

Wednesday morning dawned with the promise of clear skies and a last gasp of summer warmth. Kate settled next to Asher on her favorite garden bench. They basked in the sun, watching Elsie wander in the orchard.

"Hard to believe we could have such a beautiful day after all the recent horrors," Asher murmured. "You'd expect rain and gloom, wouldn't you?"

Kate inhaled deeply. "It's still warm, but you can smell autumn in the air. By next week it'll be raining every day. Soon enough we'll be bundling up against the cold." She turned to Asher. "Did you write to your father?"

"I did."

She waited for him to elaborate, but he held silent. "Well?" she prompted. "Shall you be returning to America or staying with us for a while?"

Asher turned to her, his face solemn. "Neither."

Why does he tease me so? She repressed the urge to stomp on his foot.

A grin spread over his face. "I can see the indignation boiling behind your eyes, Kate. Before you unleash your tongue, let me explain. I'm traveling back to Rye to stay with my uncle for a time. I wired him on Monday and received his reply this morning."

Kate must have done a poor job of masking her dismay, for he nudged her playfully. "You know I can't stay at Summerfield, not once the students return. Since I can't afford to take lodgings in Cambridge indefinitely, it's time I was on my way."

Panic quickened her pulse. "But we will see you again, won't we?"

"I'll be back in December for examinations, and in the meantime I won't be that far away."

"You know Rye might as well be the moon to me. I've never left Cambridge," she muttered.

"I suppose it would seem a world away to you, in that case. But I'll return in four months."

"How will you fill your days? Will your uncle tutor you?"

"He's found me a mathematics coach, and I shall study cla.s.sics on my own, though Uncle says he'll supervise." Asher chuckled. "He's such an old hermit-I think he's afraid I'll trespa.s.s on his writing time, and yet he's so keen to do right by his brother's son."

"You'll be near the sea," Kate said wistfully. "You must write and tell us all about it. Do you promise?"

He nodded. "I shall be bored stiff down there. Prepare to receive stacks of letters."

When he leaned back and closed his eyes, she took advantage of the opportunity to study his profile. He looked tired and worn, older than when she'd first met him at the Summerfield gate. His hair was in need of tr.i.m.m.i.n.g, and the recent sun had made his freckles more p.r.o.nounced. In that moment he seemed steady and wise. And even though he would never be more than a friend-love was for fools, after all-she had to admit he was handsome in a boyish, American way. She wanted to reach up and smooth the furrows from his brow. Instead she savored the friendly warmth of his arm as it casually rested against hers.

It would be lonely at Summerfield-she would be lonely-without him.

She turned away reluctantly, spotting Elsie in the orchard. The girl was hurrying along the path to the old lab.

"Elsie, where are you going?" Kate called.

"To look at the ruined building."

"Be careful!" shouted Asher, giving Kate a sidelong glance before closing his eyes again. "It's probably good for her to face it."

"Do you think she's all right? Should I go to her?"

"She needs time to herself, out of her bedchamber," he said, eyes still closed.

"I wonder ..." Kate trailed off, uncertain.

Asher turned to her, his eyes so blue that her heart contracted. "Go on."

"I wonder if Elsie's not telling us the whole truth."

Kate saw it then-the tightening in his cheek, the shadow that came over his eyes. He still cared for Elsie in that way.

"I don't know," he said after a moment. "But I trust her. Still ... if you need me, send a wire. I'll take the first train back, no matter what."

Kate smiled. "It's a comfort to have you as a friend." She took his hand and squeezed it. They sat quietly for a moment as Kate tried to be content with what Asher had told her. In the end, however, she couldn't help herself. "Were you kind to your father in your letter?"

He held her gaze. "I wasn't unkind."

"You two must learn to forgive each other, you know. What if something were to happen, and you hadn't yet made amends?"

"Don't worry, I was quite civil. In time, he and I may come to an understanding."

"Good," she murmured, settling back against the bench to enjoy the suns.h.i.+ne.

Elsie slowed her pace as she neared the old lab. The gardener had cleared away most of the broken gla.s.s and other rubbish from the front of the building, but it still looked a wreck. Smoke blackened the window cas.e.m.e.nts, and the soot-streaked door barely clung to its hinges.

She had no wish to go inside.

Gingerly, she picked her way through the gra.s.s toward the low window at the north side of the structure. Her head throbbed with questions and doubts as she knelt and reached into the overgrown weeds creeping up the brick wall. Her fingers found the hard corner of her camera. It was damp with dew but otherwise seemed none the worse for wear.

Clutching it to her chest, she walked to a nearby tree. Once seated, she studied the compartment that held the single exposed gla.s.s plate. She absently tapped the leather case as she struggled to still the noise in her mind.

This was an opportunity to "remember"-to bridge the gap she'd placed between herself and her friends. If she took the camera back and developed the plate, she could confess everything to Asher and Kate. The photograph has brought it all back, she might say. Tec was there, too. It was his body they found in the old lab.

Kate would be forced to mourn Tec all over again. She would suffer, and yet she would finally know the entire truth. Elsie owed her that, didn't she?

But Simon ...

Somehow I feel you with me, he'd written. Their time together in the dark between had forged a link-two minds connected telepathically, just as Marshall had theorized. His feelings could flow through her mind and body, no matter the distance, and his message confirmed that he perceived her presence as well. Could she now betray that connection?

"Simon," she whispered. "Tell me. What should I do?"

She opened her mind and waited.

Nothing.

Closing her eyes, she concentrated on his face, her lips tingling at the memory of his kiss.

Her mind and body stretched to listen, but silence was the only answer. He would not guide her. The decision was hers.

I'm sorry, Kate.

With tears sliding down her cheeks, she pulled the plate holder from the camera and held it up to the bright sunlight, erasing the image forever.

Author's Note.

Kate Poole, Asher Beale, and Elsie Atherton are products of my imagination. However, the setting, conflicts, and many of the characters of The Dark Between were adapted-with much creative license-from history.

Cambridge, England, is a real and thriving city, and its university, comprising thirty-one colleges, is considered one of the most prestigious inst.i.tutions of post-secondary education in the world. Summerfield College is based on Newnham, a women's college established in 1871. For more background on Newnham, you might read Ann Phillips's A Newnham Anthology or Alice Gardner's A Short History of Newnham College, Cambridge. To learn more about daily life in turn-of-the-century Cambridge, read Gwen Raverat's Period Piece, a charming memoir of growing up in the quirky Darwin family. (Gwen was granddaughter to Charles himself.) And for a nineteenth-century American perspective on student life at Trinity College and the city of Cambridge, Charles Astor Bristed's An American in Victorian Cambridge is sure to inform and entertain.

The Metaphysical Society is based on the very real (and still kicking) Society for Psychical Research, founded in London in 1882 to investigate paranormal phenomena "in the same spirit of exact and unimpa.s.sioned enquiry which has enabled Science to solve so many problems" (spr.ac.uk). Frederic Stanton, Oliver and Helena Thompson, Harold Beale, Simon Wakeham, and Philip Marshall are all loosely based on members of the Society.

If you wish to learn more about the real people behind the Society, I enthusiastically recommend Deborah Blum's Ghost Hunters: William James and the Search for Scientific Proof of Life After Death. Blum, a Pulitzer Prizewinning journalist, brings these fascinating men and women to life in a carefully researched and meticulously doc.u.mented book that reads like a novel. (I'm still waiting for HBO to option it for a mini-series.) You would also do well to look at books written by the members themselves, in particular Phantasms of the Living (a portion of which is quoted almost verbatim in chapter 10 of The Dark Between), by Edmund Gurney, Frederic W. H. Myers, and Frank Podmore, and Human Personality and Its Survival of Bodily Death, by Frederic W. H. Myers.

Electricity has been a part of medical treatment since the eighteenth century. If you're keen to know more about induction coils and electrotherapy, an exceptionally detailed overview can be found in Electricity and Medicine: History of Their Interaction, by Margaret Rowbottom and Charles Susskind.

For more details about the world of The Dark Between, please visit soniagensler.com.

Acknowledgments.

Launching a book into the world is a collaborative process, and I was fortunate to have many talented people working with me to make The Dark Between the best story it could be.

Mich.e.l.le Frey and her a.s.sistant Kelly Delaney deserve my eternal grat.i.tude (and a lovely afternoon tea on me) for patiently shaping this story with their questions and insights. The copyediting team certainly earned heartfelt thanks for their painstaking work. Art director Isabel Warren-Lynch and designer Melissa Greenberg thrilled me with their beautifully creepy jacket art, and I thank them for that. Hooray for Team Knopf!

Bear hugs to Jennifer Laughran for her wisdom, humor, enthusiasm, and therapeutic skills. It's an honor to work with you, Tenacious J!