“Well if she is crazy, then we must be ever careful around her. Now hurry.”
Madeleine opened the door, peering out to check that all was clear.
“Be careful, Madeleine,” said Maurice as she slipped out of the room.
When the maid had left, Maurice pulled out the journals from under his vest.
“À nous deux, maintenant,” he whispered as though Aaron had suddenly become his lifelong adversary.
It would take him hours to read each journal, and to piece together years of secrets. But whatever Aaron Nightingale had been involved in all these years, Maurice had an unsettling feeling that Calista had been wronged.
Chapter 11
Mr. and Mrs. Nightingale
Alexandra Hall, 1840-1845
“Man acts upon everything that surrounds him with an animistic force: doctors do not know it.
Floods of rays escape from him at all times: they have discovered nothing of the kind.
— Jules Denis, Baron du Potet
FOR a while now, Calista no longer tasted the joys of simple pleasures. Marooned in the Berkshire countryside, and rather friendless, she had once gained cheer from occasionally treating the maids, and having tea in Mrs. Cleary’s company. Lately all her pastimes had left her with a lingering emptiness.
It wasn’t that she had become bored of reading Greek philosophy and tending to her garden roses. It wasn’t that she had grown accustomed to Aaron’s kisses or his firm touch. By the same token, the intensity and the quiet manner in which he admired her every move continued to thrill her, as it had, when she had first set eyes on Aaron Nightingale back in Kerkyra.
But it was true that since leaving her village in Kerkyra, and upon having lived three years in Alexandra Hall, watching her husband disappear in his cellar at long intervals, she soon sensed that Aaron had grown impatient. It seemed her husband withheld something from her, and the very act of not revealing it fed his resentment.
Whatever the cause, or mechanism for Aaron’s disquiet, Calista succumbed to the trap which those lacking self-assurance tend to fall into. She began to feel ashamed, suspecting that Aaron might have regretted bringing her, a stained woman, all the way to England.
This tension came to an abrupt head one day, on a rare occasion in which Aaron broke their solitude by inviting an old medical friend to dinner. It was a standout event for Calista.
Her English had much improved and by remaining quiet most of the time, speaking few words, she believed none could ever guess at her background or her modest origins.
Calista’s eyes shimmered the moment she donned her new dark blue crinoline dress. She had chosen this one over the crimson or black gown, because she loved the way it showed off her shoulders, and the stunning effect the colour had on her eyes.
In her village, the blue had been reviled. Here, it often sparked compliments.
Sophie chirped with delight as she laced up Calista’s perfectly shaped corset and groomed her mistress’ long black hair. Attired in the latest London fashion, Calista could have passed for a Welsh brunette, all traces of her Greek traits wiped away.
Calista remained withdrawn for the entire meal, playing the accommodating hostess on occasions, but for the most part, letting her English husband drive discussions to avoid any attention on herself that might prove unseemly. She hoped Aaron would be pleased, and then perhaps this dinner would prove to be a new pattern in their lives, and one day, they might even take a coach into London. It wasn’t that Calista disliked Alexandra Hall but part of her felt estranged from the rest of the world.
The tone was set soon after Shannon had delivered the Yorkshire pudding to the table. Aaron’s elegant guest spoke up and addressed his host with the following words: “I would be doing you a disservice, my friend, if I did not alert you to your reputation among our fellow graduates.”
“Pray, tell. I am so much of a pariah, these days, it would not disturb me in the least.” Aaron reached to his right for Calista’s hand. “My sister, Vera, knows I am immune to hearsay. No gossip has ever stopped me before.”
“As a student, you were known for dabbling in animal magnetism, a tenet whose theories have long been disputed if not disproven. It made you downright unpopular. Am I right?”
“Is that where discussions lead you when you visit the clubs these days? Raymond, this is old news. It’s hardly a scandal.”
“Oh, but it is, and it pains me to hear it. Several of my colleagues are convinced you’ve given up medical practice on account of past disagreements with leading physicians in this country.”
“Hardly. I’ve given up medical practice because I’ve other means to make a living. And to assuage your curiosity, I never intended to become a practicing doctor. There are more glorious pursuits in this world.”
“Such as?”
Aaron reached for his wine glass.
His friend mirrored the gesture.
A cold, and almost chilly exchange issued between the two men as they drank.
“A wonderful wine,” conceded Raymond. “Well of course, you’re a well-travelled gentleman, my friend, and your lifestyle is your affair, after all. But I’ll be honest with you, there is debate among some of us that you might even possess your own laboratory.”
“My, it would seem I am the talk of town.”
“Some of us have long suspected that you’ve buried yourself here, far from London, on the sole pretext of one day proving that animal magnetism is real.”
Calista’s heart began to pound inexplicably in her chest. She stared at their guest, seemingly passive but her eyes widened.
Aaron had paused, taking in the accusation. Calista took a deep breath and watched the tension in her husband’s jaw.
“What if I am?” he replied.
“Come now,” said Raymond, “you are a student no longer.
