Sparks of Light by Janet B. Taylor

Author:Janet B. Taylor
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Houghton Mifflin Harcourt

If the readers of this true history will imagine for themselves a number of hospitals for typhus fever, where any one of them, man or woman may, upon the first symptoms of a cold in the head, be shut up among the worst cases—​with moral, social, and physical consequences beyond man’s power of description—​they will know something of the meaning of private lunatic asylums.

I remember thinking, at the time, how terrible it must be to feel so helpless. So caged.

Mrs. Caldecott’s eyes haunted me as I pressed my back hard against the wooden slats of the wheelchair.

“Miss?” Nurse Hannah started, but I interrupted.

“What—?” I had to stop, to swallow down a diamond-hard nugget of fear. “What are they doing to her?”

“Aw now, miss,” Hannah said, her chipmunk voice unaffected. “Don’t you worry none about Mrs. Caldecott. She’s been here a long time, she has.”

We moved ahead toward a wide set of double doors. A brass plate mounted beside them read GREENWOOD LADIES’ WARD B.

“What’s Ward B mean?” I asked, though I kept careful watch as the guard removed the ring of skeleton keys from his belt again and rattled through them.

Okay. Locks from the outside. Sergeant Peters has keys. Check.

“We just passed through Ward A, see?” Hannah was explaining. “Most of the patients on that ward either have very minor problems”—​she whispered the last word as if it were something obscene—​“or they’ve been here long enough, and are responding well to treatment. They may have earned special rights and privileges, see.”

“Can they leave here if they want?”

Hannah chuckled. “Oh no, miss. No one leaves Greenwood but what the doctor releases them. I mean to say they are allowed additional freedom within the hospital. They may have visitors whenever they wish. Go outside on the lawn when it suits them. Walk the gallery. All Ward A patients are allowed to attend the special entertainments. Things such as that.”

“What special entertainments?”

“Oh!” Hannah cried. “We have the loveliest performances here. Just last week, we had an entire orchestra. We’ve had a magician, an opera singer. Dr. Carson spares no expense.”

As the guard continued to sort through the keys, Hannah tucked a stray strand of hair behind my ear. “Aw, don’t look look so glum, miss. You’ll be reassigned to Ward A a’fore you know it. Dr. Carson will know what’s best for you.” Eyes alight with hero worship, she said, “He’ll fix you right up. The doctor can fix anyone.”

Peters gave a loud cough, then grumbled about keys and locks. I looked up as he raised the jangling ring up to the light of a nearby wall sconce. Metal sang on metal as he slid one key after the other slowly around the brass circlet, lips moving as he silently counted.

He made a selection, then held the key aloft as if examining it for nicks. I could smell pipe tobacco and starch on the navy wool of his coat as his eyes flicked sideways to mine.

Seven, I noted as he slowly turned to insert the key into the lock.

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