Well, she would do none of it here. This was not the time nor place. Bending, she almost fell forward as her shaking legs buckled. Taking a deep breath, Abbie gathered up her basket, then broke into a run.
In the opposite direction.
The dam had burst. The unruly water rushing out of control. There would be no gathering all the memories and emotions and hiding them away ever again. First, she must write to Alberta and find out all she could about Garrett. Then she must decide if the past should be confronted at long last.
* * * *
“Damn it, this is nothing more than a barn. Where have you brought my nephew?” Garrett hissed through clenched teeth as they carried Aidan into the exam room.
“It’s a converted barn, actually,” Dr. Bevan replied. “All paid for from treatment fees. You may lay Mr. Black there.”
A young woman came to stand beside the doctor. Garrett cast a sidelong glance at her and made note of her beauty. Petite, dark haired, and fair skinned, with eyes the shade of a field of violets.
“Gentlemen, this is my daughter, Cristyn. She is training under me as a nurse, and is my trusted assistant.” The doctor turned to her. “My dear, burn the blanket. The clothes will be next.” Glancing up, he said to Edwin and Garrett, “If you will wait outside. There is usually someone here from the village to see to you, but she is late. Cristyn will be out directly to fetch you something to eat and drink while I perform my exam. Opium, you say?”
“And gin. God knows what else,” Garrett muttered.
Aidan stirred and started to thrash about. “I’m sorry…so…so sorry.”
Garrett clasped his hand and squeezed it tight. “It’s all right, Nephew. I’m here.”
“I take it your name is Black as well?” the doctor questioned.
Hesitating, Garrett nodded. It would be best to keep the name Wollstonecraft out of this tragic situation. At least initially.
“Then, Mr. Black, I will have a more inclusive picture to discuss shortly.”
Reluctantly, Garrett released Aidan, who didn’t even seem aware of his presence.
Edwin clapped a hand on his shoulder. “Come. Dr. Bevan knows what he’s about.”
He followed Edwin out into the hallway. Before he sat, he took a moment to inspect the premises. The large barn structure had been cordoned off into a long hallway with numerous rooms on either side. It was clean, bright, and not at all what he’d expected when they had first arrived. His initial thought was Edwin had brought him to a place out of the medieval era. The ancient stones and wood timbers that made up the bulk of the facade proved his theory.
He’d never been to Hertfordshire. Unlike Julian, who had travelled extensively, Garrett had not been north of London. Except for Scotland. He never believed he would find a sanatorium here in the middle of farm country. Exhausted, he plunked down on the large chair in the hallway. They sat in silence for God knows how long, and while they did, Garrett tried to think of a way to break this to the family. However he framed the narrative, it would be a jarring shock.
The trip to Standon had been harrowing. As Edwin had predicted, Aidan’s symptoms of withdrawal began about halfway through the journey. The chills and vomiting were the first to appear. Garrett glanced down at his shirt. A good thing he’d brought his valise, for he needed a wash and a change of clothes.
Cristyn stepped into the hall. “If you gentlemen will follow me. I hope you don’t mind sharing a room. It’s at the end of this hall. You can freshen up, and I will bring you a bite to eat. Slices of bara brith and tea.”
Garrett stood and fell in step beside Miss Bevan. “I am very much obliged. What is bara brith?”
She smiled. “It’s Welsh for speckled bread. It is a tea loaf, with currants, spices, and fruit peel.” Her gaze roamed over Garrett. “Are you Scottish?” He nodded, not bothering to state he was only half. He was well aware that he looked as if he’d stepped directly out of the Highlands.
“Then you will like the bread.” Cristyn opened the door and held out her arm. “Make yourselves comfortable. And please, don’t worry; your nephew is in good hands.” She closed the door softly behind her.
“As soon as I have my tea and cake, I should see if the carriage driver and the horses are settled in. The coachman is taking a room at the George Inn.” Edwin strode to the basin, picked up the pitcher, and poured water into it.
“Thank you for making all the arrangements,” Garrett said solemnly.
Edwin splashed water on his face, then reached for the small towel. “It won’t be cheap. My fees, hiring the men for St. Giles, the carriage, accommodations, not to mention the costs for treatment. You do realize your nephew may be here several months?”
Garrett leaned against the wall and crossed his arms. “How long were you here?”
Once he dried his face, Edwin laid the towel on the table. “A little over three months, and I was not in the shocking condition Aidan is.” He turned to face Garrett. “Prepare yourself for possible dreadful news. There could be any number of complications. Considering the orgies, syphilis may be a possibility, or any other poxes one catches from excessive and indiscriminate sex. He may even have sold himself or others for money. Those chasing the dragon will stoop to low levels to obtain the euphoric highs of opium.”
Garrett shook his head sadly. “Then let us hope that he escapes such a fate.” He paused. “What is ‘chasing the dragon,’ by the by?”
“Chinese slang, for inhaling the vapor from smoking opium.” A knock sounded at the door. “Ah, our tea and cake. Try to relax, Garrett.”
Only he couldn’t relax or stop his mind from racing. He tried not to wallow in guilt over not intervening sooner. Instead, he puzzled over why Aidan would live such a desolate, dissipated life. Hell, the lad had everything going for him. Why toss it all away on an opium pipe? But now was not the time to judge his behavior; Aidan needed empathy and support. Garrett would be standing by, ready to offer it.
His nephew looked horrible, filthy, a shocking change from the carefree lad he’d been previously. Aidan had often invited him on his erotic adventures, but Garrett soon grew weary of the meaningless sex and declined further romps to London or Bath. He’d found more gratification staying at Wollstonecraft Hall raising and breeding his horses. His father used to employ a steward, but about five years past, Garrett took charge of running of the estate and seeing to the tenants. The position gave him purpose.
Aidan obviously had no purpose in his life. No responsibilities. Society called him a ‘notorious rake.’ The nom de guerre fit. Perhaps he and the entire family should have taken Aidan to task. But since his oldest nephew was the heir apparent, sowing wild oats was expected, and, sadly, accepted. Only Aidan went too far—right off the cliff into complete darkness.
After they consumed the food and drink, Edwin headed for the village, leaving Garrett alone with the doctor. Bevan’s face was grave as he took a seat in his office. “Aidan is malnourished and dehydrated. I would guess he’s lost close to two stone.”
Jesus. Garrett recalled the last family meeting Aidan had attended in September. The lad had looked thin. But everyone was caught up in their lives and causes and didn’t think to question him on his gaunt appearance—or his behavior. He’d stumbled in drunk in the middle of the night on more than one occasion. While there was enough blame to go around, the focus must be on Aidan’s recovery.
“His