Steampunk Omnibus: A Galvanic Century Collection (58 page)

"If he's so charismatic and collected, then why did he end up locked up here?"

"The courts have dictated him incapable of managing himself or his family," Nash continued. "And rendered him into our care until such a time as he can be expected to be self-sufficient. As of yet he has not been deemed thus fit."

"What's wrong with him?"

"To start with he's a dedicated alcoholic with no desire to moderate his overconsumption. That on its own would be insufficient to keep him committed, but he refuses to acknowledge the changes he needs to make to moderate his behaviour. For all his organisational talents he remains incapable of performing basic household maintenance. Until he's willing to admit his flaws, he cannot be helped, so he remains a ward of the asylum."

"Doctor Tucker said that you believed that there was a physiological basis behind insanity."

"I believe that madness is an illness of the body, of which the physical structure of the brain is part. Mr. Bartleby is not, however, conventionally insane. Simply incapable, unwilling to change, and in our care. If it were my choice I would release him – his treatment here is a legal, not medical, matter."

Dennis Bartleby seemed capable enough to me. Capable enough to dominate and organise a collection of lunatics, at any rate. "Doctor Tucker mentioned that both you and Doctor Teague treat your patients with pharmacologically-based therapies."

"That's not entirely true."

"No?"

"I use mood stabilisers such as lithium and valproic acid to regulate my patients' moods. Once in a productive mindset they can work on the issues that have brought them here, perhaps in therapy with the other physicians. I see my work as a sort of psychological triage."

"And Doctor Teague?"

"What little I know of her therapy is that she uses some sort of South American plant extracts to assist patients in reaching a mental state conductive to her own processes."

"What sort of state?"

"I'm afraid I don't know. I'm not familiar with botanical folk remedies." He snorted.

Two doctors administrating drugs to patients without consulting one another. Psychology.

"One last thing," I said. "I read in Paddock's journal that he had suspicions that a member of the staff was abusing the patients, but he doesn't name anyone."

"I haven't seen anything but professionalism and concern for our guests," Nash said. "And I haven't heard anything in any patient therapy.

"Paddock seemed quite sure of it," I said.

Nash tapped his fingers on the desk. "I'm afraid I can't offer any further suggestions."

"Very well. Thank you, Doctor Nash."

In Which Alton Bartleby has a Breakthrough

"I'd like to open this meeting by thanking you all ever so much for attending," Baden said.

Alton Bartleby watched the dark-haired man carefully as he spoke, arms folded, sitting on a bench alongside the others gathered for the group therapy session. Doctor Teague sat a short distance away, at a separate table, largely ignored by the patients.

"While I am not myself a therapist, I have been involved in a sufficient number of group environments that I feel qualified to understand and convey the protocols involved--"

"How many?" a balding patient with a thick moustache and beady eyes asked.

"I beg your pardon?" Baden seemed caught off-guard.

"You said a sufficient number. What's a sufficient number, and under what authority do you deem it such?"

"Easy, Redvers," the patient to his left said.

Redvers had half risen from his chair. The Weasel-faced guard – Earm, Alton reminded himself – giggled shrilly, and Redvers slowly sat back down.

"I just want to know who appointed him lord and master of sufficiency," he grumbled.

"Forty-three," a pale man across from Redvers said.

"What?"

"F-forty-three." He stammered. "Meetings. Th-that Baden has attended."

"Thank you, Hector," Baden said.

"What, you've counted?" Redvers asked.

"F-forty three."

Baden held up a hand. "I've attended forty-three group therapy sessions in the two years I've been at Bedford, sir. I trust that suffices, unless you think you would fare better chairing this meeting?"

Redvers crossed his arms and shook his head. "No. You have satisfied me. For now. Please, continue."

"Thank you." The icy smile left the man's face, and for a moment Alton had a fuller image of the man. Baden was a natural autocrat, of sorts. Every group had them. Men who needed a semblance of control in their lives, preferably from an external source, but when deprived of this order, they would provide their own. Unfortunately, many of them could not cope with having that order challenged, and it looked to Alton like this Redvers lived, in part, to challenge authority.

"Normally in meetings such as this we begin with accounts of how we've fared since the last, but as this is the first time the group has assembled--"

"Now what then, Baden?" Redvers said. "What will we do instead?"

Baden rose, fists clenched. "I was just getting to that part--"

"I say, I might have a suggestion," Alton spoke quickly.

"Who the devil are you?"

"This is the detective," Baden said, some of the colour leaving his face as he calmed. "You remember. Dennis's son."

Redvers gave Alton an appraising stare.

He smiled back. "A pleasure to make your acquaintance, Mister--?"

"We don't. Don't go by surnames here," Hector said. "Creates distance. I'm Hector."

"Introductions. Yes. Let's start with that." Baden latched on to the ledge of procedure.

"We all know who you are, Baden."

"It's not for your benefit, Redvers. As mentioned, I'm Baden."

"I'm Hector."

"Redvers. You'd do well to remember."

"Hector."

"Robert," said the patient to Redvers' left, a younger man with a clean-shaven head.

"Alton, then," Bartleby said. "Charmed. Do you suppose we might talk about Director Paddock? He's who we all have in common. Surely his death must have affected all of us."

There was a moment or two of silence.

"All of us?" Redvers asked. "You've only just arrived here. After the Director was killed. What makes you think you're one of us?"

"Takes more than a white uniform," Robert added.

"Let's not be exclusionary," Baden said. "But you must understand, Alton. It takes some time to establish trust."

"Trust," Hector said.

"You might not know me," Alton said, "but I knew the Director. Am I not allowed to grieve?"

"You knew him?" Robert asked.

Alton caught Doctor Teague watching him out of the corner of his eye. "It isn't something I speak of."

"This is a place of safety," Baden said. "Of confidentiality. Nothing said here will be spoken of outside these walls."

"You cannot expect us to trust you if you do not trust us," Redvers said.

Alton shifted in his seat. This was getting a little more personal than he'd have hoped, but if he was going to have any chance of getting these men to open up to him, he'd have to confide in them. But what to say, what version of the truth to share.

"I was a Commander when I left the Royal Navy. The experience left me a changed man. I don't want to get into the particulars of what I'd seen, what I'd done, for I have no great desire to worsen whatever nightmares already possess you. Suffice it to say that my training failed to adequately prepare me for the horrors of real war."

Redvers snorted. Alton ignored him.

"Upon my return I was greeted with open arms by my family, my father, my mother, my sisters. It'd been over a decade since I'd seen them, and I was hardly in a state to do more than try and assimilate back into a civilian life and forget the things I'd seen."

"They call it exhaustion," Robert said, his voice carefully level. He raised his eyes, locking gazes with Alton. The two shared a single moment of unspoken communication, of pain, and the other man looked away again.

"I wasn't diagnosed," Alton said. "I simply... went on half-pay and left the service. I drifted for months, it must have been, while my father... while my family enjoyed the pension I'd received."

He could feel their sympathy, particularly from Robert, and couldn't help but let it lead him. "I didn't care, though. I couldn't. I felt like I was watching myself watch them, staying in my room most days, reading letters from those that welcomed me back to London without seeing any meaning in their words.

Hector sucked the breath in between his teeth and began to rock a little in his seat.

"On the advice of a friend I made an appointment with Doctor Paddock. He wasn't director then, just another alienist. He... helped me work through some things. I am ever grateful to him, though I am ashamed to say that we haven't much kept in touch this last decade, beyond the odd card now and again."

Baden cleared his throat. "Thank you for sharing with us, Alton."

Alton nodded. "It comes as a shock to hear that Paddock is dead. He was such an important part of my healing process. I wouldn't be the man I am today if it wasn't for his assistance."

"Does anyone else have anything to say about the Director?"

Hector raised his hand. "Paddock helped me. Helped me. He, uh. When I was young my parents would thrash me. Thrash me for the way that I spoke. Before the Director, before Bedford, the doctors thought I was wilful. Wilful!"

"Calm down," Baden said. "Take your time."

Hector nodded and poured himself a glass of water. He took a long sip from it, then wiped his mouth on his sleeve. "I'm sorry, I'm just upset. As with Alton, Doctor Paddock helped me a great deal. Helped me realise that my child-self was compulsively repeating what it had been punished for."

"Your child-self," Alton said. "Was this some sort of hypnotic regression therapy?"

"Nothing of the sort," Redvers said. "Director Paddock had his machine."

"The one in his office?" Alton asked. "What does it do?"

"It allows you to confront yourself," Robert said. "The parts of yourself that you cannot bear to face. You sort of..."

Baden picked up where he trailed off. "Go within."

Alton glanced behind himself towards Doctor Teague, who had ceased her note-taking and was watching the discussion avidly. "Perhaps that's what we need."

"I'm sorry, I don't know the science of it," Robert said.

"That's quite alright," Alton turned back to the group. "I've a good friend who does."

"I'm sorry to interrupt," Doctor Teague spoke up.

"Not at all," Baden said.

"One other matter. There has been some concerns raised that patients have been experiencing some abuse at the hands of the staff. None of you have experienced any mistreatment, have you?"

Alton glanced from the doctor back to the others in the therapy group.

"Not me, personally," Baden said.

Redvers snorted and looked away. Robert shook his head.

"N-no," Hector said. "Th-the doctors have b-been nothing but kind."

"And of the orderlies?" Teague asked.

"F-Foster can be rough," Hector said.

The others stared at him.

"H-he. He yells. A lot."

"That he does," Redvers said with a chuckle.

"He's a hard man," Robert said.

"It's bluster," Redvers said. "The more a dog barks, the weaker his bite."

"You don't say," Alton said.

"Not just at us," Robert said. "He's one to yell at the staff, too."

"This is news to me," Doctor Teague said. "I've not had dealings with the man."

"I even heard him havin' a row with Paddock," Redvers said.

"But Paddock's so nice!" Baden said.

"From what I 'eard Paddock was givin' as good as he got," Redvers said.

Alton made a quiet eye contact with Doctor Teague.

20 September, 1911 - 12:35 pm

Had Aldora been any less nimble I daresay I would have broken her neck.

I was already a bit on edge, being surrounded by potentially murderous lunatics as I was, so when the slender arms took a hold of me as I passed the alcove it was my natural impulse to grab them, pivot their owner over my hip, grab them by the sides of the head as they sailed past, and give a sharp twist. Only Aldora is quite quick enough to use that momentum as a counterbalance to pull me into the alcove, pinning my wrist up between my shoulder-blades to hold me against the wall.

"Calm yourself," she whispered into my ear.

"What are you doing here?"

"Looking after my husband, as you seem incapable of remaining by his side."

"Doesn't look as if you've had much more luck sticking with him."

She shook her head. "He'll be staying put for the moment, in a meeting with that Teague woman and some of the other patients. While they've been busy with the two of you, I've taken it upon myself to find out what I can while unobserved."