CHAPTER FOURTEEN

"Mary, are you all right?" Eliza asks. "I heard you crying out in your sleep last night."

I lift my head from my breakfast and see concern on the faces of all present. Heat creeps up my cheeks. "Oh. I apologize. I was having a nightmare. You… you all heard it?"

Their bedrooms are a full two floors above mine. If they heard me, I must have been screaming quite loud.

Alistair confirms that a moment later when he says, "I think the whole estate heard it. Oliver and I were nearly ready to rush to your aid."

"Oh. Oh, I'm so sorry. I didn't mean to intrude on your sleep."

"It's not the sleep we're worried about," Veronica assures me. "Are you sure you're all right, dear? Have you been having trouble sleeping?"

"Oh… it's nothing. It's an old…" I continue to stammer, wanting to reassure them but not wanting to reveal anything.

I do, however, want to speak further with Dr. Chalmers. He seems to know a lot about Minnie's disappearance, more than he revealed earlier. I can understand his reticence inside the Carlton house, but perhaps he'll feel more comfortable speaking in his office.

I don't want to blatantly ask to see him, though. I don't want to run even a slight risk of creating suspicion. I try to leave a hint and hope that one of them will suggest visiting him. "I'll just run to town for some sleeping pills perhaps. I intended for Lucas to use today to catch up on the schoolwork he missed in Madrid, but maybe we can do that tomorrow instead."

"I can catch up," Lucas says. "You should take care of yourself."

"Well… I suppose I should. I don't want to risk waking anyone else up with my nightmares."

The ruse finally works when Eliza says, "I'll take you with me to work this morning. Horace can drive you back."

"That would be lovely, actually," Veronica says. "Then he can drive me to the charity."

"Oh, really, it's all right. You don't need to put yourselves out."

"Nonsense," Eliza says. "Besides, you can say hello to Rupert."

"Rupert…" I say, feigning ignorance." Oh, right. Dr. Chalmers."

"Yes. My boss."

"The lovely Rupert," Alistair mutters under his breath.

Eliza gives him a glare before turning back to me. "Please. It's no trouble, Mary."

I hide the burst of triumph I feel and say reluctantly, "Well… if it's not too much trouble."

"Of course not!" Eliza says. "I just said it's no trouble at all."

"Besides," Alistair interjects, "if you have another night like that, we might all need sleeping pills."

The others look at him with disapproval, and he lifts his hands apologetically. "Just having a laugh."

I finish my breakfast and then join Eliza. She spends the journey gossiping as though I'm just another girlfriend. I recall her telling me that there are few people her age in the village. I can see that she's desperate for companionship after Minnie's disappearance. I do my best to keep up until we arrive at the doctor's office.

The office is in a quaint little building constructed with the famous golden stone of the Cotswolds. A sign hangs from the front, announcing the offices of Dr. Rupert Chalmers: Family Practice, Internal Medicine, and OB/GYN. An interesting specialty given that there are so few young women here.

We are the first in the office since Eliza is employed as his secretary and receptionist. When we walk in, Rupert fixes a look on Eliza that looks much like the longing I see in Alistair's eyes. He opens his arms for an embrace, but Eliza greets him with a professional handshake instead and whispers something.

It must be a warning to him to be professional in my presence because he glances at me and reddens slightly. Curiously, I notice a similar blush on Eliza's cheek. That couldn't mean what it appears to, could it?

No, she probably tolerates his overtures to a point, but I can't see the two of them being involved with each other. Dr. Chalmers is a handsome man, but Eliza is young and beautiful like a goddess. She could have her pick of young men if she wanted.

"Good morning!" Dr. Chalmers says, stepping closer and offering me a handshake as well. "I hear you've had trouble sleeping."

"Oh, only a little," I demur. "It seems I kept the family up last night with a nightmare, unfortunately."

"Well, that's no good," he says. "We'll get you something to take that can help you sleep like the dead."

I really wish he had chosen another simile.

"Eliza, would you mind organizing my calendar?" he calls over his shoulder. "I shouldn't be too long with Miss Mary, and then we can go over the schedule."

"Of course, Dr. Chalmers."

Dr. Chalmers smiles at me and says, "Come with me, Mary."

He leads me into a small office decorated with flowery wallpaper that is horribly tacky but not unappealing. I sit on a vinyl chair, and Dr. Chalmers takes my ID and looks up my medical record.

I think of the hospitalization too late, and my face flames again. All at once, asking about Minnie becomes less important than avoiding a discussion of my own medical history. "It really was nothing," I assure him. "Only a nightmare."

"Of course," he says, "but dreams have a way of invading our reality, don't they? Let's see if we can't do something to make sure that yours stay where they belong."

He sits across from me and asks, "When did these nightmares start?"

I stammer a bit before saying, "Just a few days ago." I don't want to tell him that I've had them for months and when I was younger, years.

"Are they similar to the dreams you complained of when you were committed?"

Fear rushes through me like a blast of icy wind. I stiffen, and he quickly says, "It's nothing to worry about. You are very clearly far from insanity. There are a thousand steps between this episode and anything I could call a crisis. However, if this is a recurrence of your old nightmare, it will affect my prescription. Certain medicines affect one's mood differently, and I need to ensure that what I prescribe you is appropriate for your particular situation."

I am about to insist again that this is nothing related to my past, but then I remember my purpose for being here. If I expect him to be honest about Minnie, I must risk a little honesty myself.

"Yes. It is an old nightmare. As far as my commitment, I have no recollection of that, so I can't tell you if that has anything to do with it."

He nods. "A great many patients block their memories of hospitalization. I can't blame them. Sanitariums are horrible places. It's an inhumane method of treatment, and I'll be grateful when it's done away with entirely. Now, do you have any other gaps in your memory?"

I fight to keep my face steady when I reply, "No."

"That's excellent," he says. "No dissociation. Any history of sleepwalking?"

My left eye twitches slightly, and I can only pray he doesn't take that as a sign of deception. "No, none."

"What about in your family? A parent or sibling?"

Annie walks down the hallway, her slippers sliding softly on the hardwood floor. I look at her curiously. "What are you doing?"

She turns to me, and for a moment, I think her eyes are replaced by black holes. I gasp and prepare to scream for Mother and Father, but when I look again, I see it's only a trick of the light. Her eyes are merely closed.

"No," I reply. "Not that I'm aware of."

He nods. Then he leans back in his chair and looks at me pensively with the expression that all doctors seem to wear when they want to talk about something uncomfortable but aren't sure how to approach it.

"Eliza tells me you were screaming for help during the night. She says you were shouting, ‘Let me go!' and weeping. Do you recall any of that?"

I tilt my head. "When did she tell you that?"

"Over the phone on your way over here."

My brow furrows. I recall her speaking on the phone, but I don't remember the conversation.

"Do you feel you're in danger, Mary?"

I take a breath and say, "Really, Dr. Chalmers, I'm fine. I only need something for insomnia. I am dreadfully sorry to have alarmed everyone, but it was only a nightmare. No, I don't feel I'm in danger."

He nods and folds his hands in front of him. He seems once more to debate what he wants to say, but after a moment, he only says, "I'll prescribe you a low dose of melatonin. We'll see if that doesn't do the trick. But Mary, if you have other symptoms—memory gaps, sleepwalking, bedwetting—"

"This is getting a bit ridiculous, Doctor," I say curtly. "I'll take the melatonin, and if I have any other worries, I'll be happy to notify you. At the moment, none of those extreme symptoms are occurring, so there's no need for undue concern."

"Of course," he says. "I didn't mean to offend." He stands. "I'll be back with your prescription in a moment."

He leaves the room, and I breathe an exasperated sigh. Bedwetting? Honestly.

But you do have memory gaps, Annie's voice taunts in my mind. And you did bite yourself hard enough to draw blood.

"I bit my lip, Annie," I mutter. "That's hardly a cause for alarm."

I realize I've said this aloud and look around to make sure no one heard. The office door is closed, and of course no one is in here but me, so how could they?

I take a deep breath and let it out. Just a few more minutes. Then I can be on my—

Minnie! I've completely forgotten about Minnie!

I purse my lips. I don't want to ask Dr. Chalmers about Minnie. He's on the cusp of deciding I'm having a mental break. If I indicate to him that I'm obsessed over a missing girl, he might change his mind about the benefits of commitment. Or worse, he might suggest the Carltons terminate my employment so I can take a long, restorative holiday.

But I need to learn something.

In desperation, I walk behind Dr. Chalmers's desk and start digging through the files. I am breaking every privacy law known to man doing this, but if I can find some angle, anything that will lead me to concrete evidence of wrongdoing that I can bring to the police, then the effort will be worth it.

Perhaps my luck is starting to turn, because just at the back of the files is one marked M., Minerva. I pull it out and open it.

My leap of joy fades quickly. Most of the file is redacted. It contains only her name and basic information such as height, weight, eye color, and hair color. It has an address for a home in the village, but that won't help me since her family no longer lives here.

The data I can gather only confirms that she was seen by Dr. Chalmers approximately four weeks before her death. She was seen for ninety minutes and sent home with a prescription for vitamins and told to avoid caffeine, tobacco, and alcohol.

My brow furrows. Those instructions are fairly typical for a wellness checkup, but it's odd that they would be included in a medical report.

Unless she was pregnant

My eyes widen. I think I've just found a motive for Minnie's murder. If she was pregnant, and the father didn't want it to be known that he was the father, then perhaps he would have conspired to get rid of her.

But if Dr. Chalmers knew about the pregnancy, then why hadn't he said anything after Minnie went missing? It's better than being "disappeared" too, I suppose, but he showed no fear of Eliza or Veronica, and if he was coerced by a member of the family into hiding Minerva's pregnancy and eventual murder, I would expect some sign of fear.

I hear the door handle begin to turn and quickly shove the file back into the drawer and close it. I don't have time to return to my seat, but I am at least standing in front of the desk when Dr. Chalmers walks in. He smiles at me and says, "Sorry to keep you waiting. I have that prescription for you. If you're willing, I can send the pills home with Eliza by the end of the day so you don't have to wait for the pharmacist to fill them."

"That would be lovely, thank you."

"No trouble at all."

I shake his hand goodbye. I manage to keep my cheerful demeanor when I say goodbye to Eliza, but my mind is once more in turmoil.

The man Dr. Chalmers described as the possible kidnapper reminded me disturbingly of Alistair. I can't help but wonder if Dr. Chalmers knows that for sure and is just afraid to say. Could Alistair have threatened him to remain quiet? Could he simply be afraid of the Carlton family and be unwilling to say anything to explicitly incriminate one of their own?

Whatever the case, it is yet another piece of evidence against Alistair, but still not enough for me to draw any definite conclusions. Before I can do that, I need to learn what exactly Alistair's relationship with Minnie was.

I head home in silence. Part of me is intrigued to come closer to the answer to this mystery. Another part fears that I am simply spiraling deeper into a conflict that can only end in more tragedy.

But it's too late for me to walk away. My earlier resolution to stay out of the family's business has crumbled utterly. For better or for worse, I am committed to finding answers about Minerva Montclair's death.

I'll simply have to hope I don't end up falling to the same fate she did.