Lies. Blatant lies.
‘I have learnt much this afternoon, Mrs Jones. Edward banned you from entering his rooms, unhappy with your treatment of him. I think if you knew of this journal, and what it contains, you would not so readily have allowed me to go there.’
A scornful laugh erupted from the woman’s throat. ‘I cannot conceive of what you—how did you say it—learnt.’ A hard glint flashed in her eyes. ‘But whatever it is, I am surprised that you, an intelligent girl by all accounts, accept the rantings of a deranged mind as fact.’
Serena’s eyes widened. This, she had not expected. ‘Deranged mind? What happened to the caring sister?’
‘Oh, I care. I care about my family and what the public will think of them if society discovers Edward’s sickness. We have tried to hide it for so many years. It’s exhausting. Perhaps it is best he is kept away from society’s prying eyes in the asylum.’
Serena stared at Mrs Jones. There seemed to be an element of defeat in her words, resignation. Did she really believe this outcome was for the best?
‘According to Edward, you’ve pestered him to give you control of his estate for years. And now you have apparently succeeded.’
Mrs Jones gripped her hands together and grimaced. ‘When my father died, we lost everything. And our family’s name was slurred because of my father’s illness. My husband is not able to provide for us due to his injury in battle, apart from a small government pension he received. Edward was the only one of us with income, but his name lost recognition because of Papa. We came to Australia to start again. Can you imagine how I felt when Edward showed signs of the same malady? I could not go through it all again. This family, we’ve lived in this house with him, to support him. We’ve done everything for him. But it is as though he is blind to our sacrifice and to our plight. He wastes his funds as though they will last forever.’
Serena recalled when Edward had wanted to lavish her with a whole new wardrobe, and when he had bought those pastries. Is this what Mrs Jones meant by wasting? She opened her mouth to argue but a broken voice came from behind her, stopping her words.
‘Did you never trust I could provide for you, Judith?’ Mr Jones had obviously overheard their conversation. ‘I may not have full use of my arm, but I am yet able to earn. But I suppose that is not enough for you.’
As Serena turned around to face him, she met a gaze filled with sadness and disappointment. Just behind him stood their two sons, equally astonished by this revelation.
‘What is happening?’ Simon pushed past them to stand before his mother. ‘What are you saying?’
Mrs Jones averted her gaze, wringing her hands once again. ‘What I am saying, Simon, is we were on the brink of losing everything again. Your uncle was ready to settle his wealth on this girl’—she gestured toward Serena—‘leaving us with nothing. He is my brother. We are the ones who’ve made the sacrifices for him. But he wants to marry her. And what do we get for all our trouble? Empty pockets and a name stained with madness. That is what I am saying.’
The exaggerated reasoning from this woman’s mouth astonished Serena, and by the looks of her husband and sons, they were also stunned.
‘You go too far, Judith. It was you who insisted none of us work outside of this house, that we needed to protect and support Ed. We might have set ourselves up quite nicely in town. We still could. The boys are yet young enough to make something of themselves.’
‘There’s no need for that.’ Mrs Jones shook her head emphatically. ‘Eddie has given me control of his assets now, and he is being looked after. All will be well.’
Mr Jones shook his head in bewilderment. ‘All is not well. How can you say that? I… I am shocked to hear you speak so. You put all of your faith in your brother’s property? What then, am I to you?’ He turned his back on her and strode to the mantel, where he stared down into the blazing fire.
Silence reigned for several long seconds, and then Mr Simon spoke.
‘None of this solves how we get Uncle Eddie out of the asylum.’
Serena jerked her chin toward Mrs Jones. ‘She thinks he is better off in the asylum. Hidden away from the shameful stares and comments that society might throw her way.’
All heads turned to Mrs Jones once again. The poor family. Serena’s anger melted a little.
Mrs Jones’s face crumpled. ‘I cannot endure it anymore. For six years I have fought this. Fought his illness, fought to keep it secret. I’m so tired. At least this way, we no longer need worry that he will do something indiscreet or take desperate measures with his life. And the boys’ reputations may remain safe for a while, at least.’
She dropped her head into her hands and sobbed quietly.
‘Why do you fret over your sons? They are fine, upstanding young men.’ Serena didn’t grasp the depth of concern the woman showed.
‘Don’t you see?’ Mrs Jones pleaded through trembling lips and tear-filled eyes. ‘Once everyone knows Edward is mad, they will assume that my sons are mad too. After all, my father had the same mania, which killed him. Who can say neither of them will contract it?’ She turned sorrowful eyes to each of them. ‘The rumours and gossip will begin with Edward, and soon they will whisper about our father and then they will suspect the boys. It’s better if we leave Eddie in the asylum where the doctors can treat him.’
Mr Jones turned and stared at her as though she were a stranger. ‘You know very well that patients rarely ever return home from Tarban
