Calista Read online

  Aaron had thought of it. He took Mrs. Cleary aside. “Now there’s no reason to put down that dog. I can assure you it does not have rabies. Besides, I know how attached Mary is to it. Let me examine it tomorrow and if it seems normal, as I’m certain it will be, we’ll untie it and return it to the little Mary.”

  But Mrs. Cleary was adamant that the dog should be put down as soon as possible.

  “Suppose I tell you, Mrs. Cleary that it was my fault. Willy has somehow found itself in the cellar and taken some tablets which it should not have.”

  “Well I…how on earth did it find itself in the cellar?”

  It was a sound question.

  The following day, Willy looked quite sheepish. It had returned to normal and Mary was grateful to be reunited with her favourite companion.

  Calista and Aaron looked in vain for the means by which Willy had crept inside the cellar. “There must be a hidden passage abutting this chamber. It can’t be far. Willy must have followed it and then crept out of a hole in the cellar wall. Wherever it is, we must seal it.”

  But they had not found it.

  “I shall make sure Mary does not let Willy roam around, don’t worry,” said Aaron.

  And so the months followed and the gruesome operations grew more complex and dangerous. Now Aaron had control over two variables: the degree of aggression in his subject and the nature of the operation. Dozens of animals died.

  After every procedure, Calista collapsed on a stool, shaking uncontrollably, her hands dripping in blood. Then she would weep, unable to look at the subject. Beside her, in a state of shock, and still strapped to the operating table, the animal groaned. Often it manifested such violence that Aaron would muzzle it.

  “It is my belief that Calista is exhausted,” wrote Aaron. “I may even conjecture that the animals we have so far handled exhibit much too strong a will. They are, as I suspected, far too intelligent to let themselves be influenced. They remain fully conscious of their pain.”

  And that was when Aaron had the fabulous idea of using the least intelligent animal he could think of.

  For, if a wise Greek man which Aaron admired had himself spoken of it as so, it must indeed be stupid.

  And Aaron set about sending letters and enquiring about what measures might be needed to have this creature sent to England. Not a simple endeavour, but he was ready to pay, as always.

  “All along, a part of me,” he wrote “has longed to come face to face with such a creature though I had not imagined it would be for this purpose. But if it must be now, then I welcome it at last. And I deliberately do not name it, nor describe it, for I believe if anyone should come upon my notes and attempt to plagiarise my procedures, I wish for it to be difficult, if not impossible for them to do so.”

  Those acts were frequent in the scientific world. Even Jeannette Power had discovered her work plagiarised by another Frenchman.

  Aaron remembered this scandal, along with what Mrs. Power had warned of the creature.

  “You must feed it well, for it will try to eat you.”

  “Are you telling me that it eats flesh, Mrs. Power?”

  “Oh, yes. It will eat human flesh. You must make the conditions of its home just right.”

  They had spoken so passionately on this subject, that in Aaron’s memory, the conversation had even eclipsed his own wedding day. He replayed her advice in his head and was pleased with what he had learnt.

  The Nightingales had now toiled in the cellar for five years.

  The winter snow had not yet melted in Berkshire, when the infant Ovee arrived.

  And when she saw it, Calista knew she would never be the same again.

  Chapter 12

  Sunday

  HORRIFIED by the ghastly details he had read, Maurice heaved a sigh and ground the last of his cigar into the ashtray. It had taken four painful hours, and on numerous occasions, he had fought against his desire to hurl Aaron’s journal across the room. Only a tenacious will to discover the Nightingales’ secret had kept him reading. As the clock struck midnight, he read the name, Ovee, for the first time. It was the name he had seen scrawled on his notes on Friday morning.

  From 1845, Aaron only mentioned Ovee subjects.

  The name leapt at Maurice from every page. What creature had Aaron brought to his home? Maurice had never heard of any animal called Ovee.

  And why would Calista’s ghost write that name in his journal?

  Maurice could scarcely remain awake. His heart ached with exhaustion. Aaron’s journal slipped to the floor.

  It was shortly after Maurice had fallen asleep, when the latch on his bedroom door shifted.

  When the door had fully opened, a perceptible chill settled in the room, rushing in from an open window in the corridor. Along with this draft, came this otherness, a discernible odour of sea and salt, as though the ocean itself had come to pay Maurice a visit.

  When the first rays of daylight shone upon Maurice’s face, calling him awake hours later, his first desire was to run water from the pitcher onto his burning arms and wrists. Seeing them, those circular welts, not knowing what they were and where they had come from, he was horrified.

  Staggering to the small table by the bed, he grabbed at the water pitcher and filled the porcelain basin. He plunged his arms deep, emitting a sigh of relief.

  Images flashed in his mind as he pieced together last night’s nightmare. Therese had caught him, just as she always had, time and time again. He’d felt her seize his arms. Her favorite game was to threaten him with the guillotine, instilling in him such a terror he thought he would die.

  Therese liked nothing better than to scream obscenities at condemned Parisians on their way to the guillotine. But it was not enough. Her need to avenge herself on every male even if he was but a boy, had twisted her into the home tyrant she was.

  In Maurice’s dream, it was her hands that had cruelly gripped and wrung his skin. He had wrestled in vain but found no escape.

  Maurice drew out his arms from the basin, feeling the cold water rush down his reddened skin. He returned to the bed and saw that the sheets were streaked with a familiar glistening liquid.

  Was it her? Calista? Had she found him as he slept? If that were true, why was she doing this?

  It could only be despair for the cruel work she had been forced to conduct in the cellar. That was it. Her soul could never rest. But what if he was wrong? What if her wish was to torment him?

  Frantic knocking drew him out of his thoughts.

  He dressed in haste and opened the door, still barefoot.

  “Madeleine. You were right.” His voice vibrated with excitement. “Ms Jeannette Power must have been an expert in ocean creatures. I sat up last night reading Aaron’s medical notes. He referred to her several times.” Maurice could not bring himself to reveal the rest. It was too distressing.

  Madeleine slinked inside the room. She wore no apron today, and the emerald of her Sunday dress brought out her eyes. “Do I have news for you,” she burst out. She seemed eager to speak at last. “Jeanette Power is not only an expert, Mr. Leroux.” She brandished a volume whose title Maurice made out as The Magazine of Natural History. She flicked through its pages. “The woman you asked me to search for yesterday is a bona fide inventor. She was living in Sicily at the time this magazine was published. But here’s what I’ve learnt. She was here, in England, in April 1837.”

  “The year when Aaron and Calista married.”

  “Jeannette Power,” continued Madeleine, “is known among reputed scientists for her study of ocean creatures in Sicily. Isn’t it astonishing? I spent forever last night reading her articles. And look, read this passage. It’s extraordinary! See, here. She invented a form of cage to study ocean creatures. It’s called the Power cage. I’ve never heard of anything so incredible.”

  Maurice leaned over the bed where Madeleine had laid out the volume. He ran an eye over the article.

  “Excellent find, Madeleine! This means much more th
an you think. You see, I’m convinced I saw one of those cages.”

  Madeleine looked doubtful. “Where did you see it?”

  “In the cellar. But it was made entirely of glass.”

  “Well, this doesn’t make any sense. Mrs. Power invented these cages to be immersed into the sea. Why would Aaron Nightingale wish to place his cage in the cellar?”

  “To hide it, I suppose. The Power cage I saw may not be immersed in water, but it is filled with water, Madeleine. You see, that’s the brilliance. I did not realise it at first, but I’m certain of it now.”

  “I do not understand.”

  “Aaron had long known of Mrs. Power’s expertise. He invited her to confirm the proper workings of his underground Power cage. But long before that, he had already built the fountain… My guess is the fountain water flows into the Power cage. Now, it’s only a hunch. I remember what Shannon O’Sullivan said when I interrogated her. She said Aaron wished the fountain to be continually turned on. It must have been for that reason. The Power cage likely depends on water with certain conditions. I’m not an expert on the subject matter, but I see no other reason why this fountain mattered so much to Aaron.”

  “But why would he own a Power cage? He was a doctor for Pete’s sake, not a marine biologist.”

  Maurice lit up a cigar and drew deeply. Now the room filled with smoke as he paced, wondering what to reveal to the house maid. “I read something about this last night,” he confided at last. “Aaron imported several unnamed creatures in the last two years. My suspicion is they were a species of animals that dwelled in the sea.”

  “What sort of creatures are they?”

  “If only I could answer that, Madeleine. To us, earthlings, the ocean remains a daunting mystery. For all I know, it is a dark abyss, a realm as unknown as the world of the dead.” Maurice shuddered at the thought.

  Madeleine’s eyes shone.

  “Well, this is terribly exciting. I don’t even wish to go to the markets anymore.”

  “No, no, you must go.”

  She looked disappointed. “I suppose I must fetch the girls now and get going. Alfred said he would take us to town at ten-thirty. We are due to return on Monday morning. I wish you luck in your investigation. Well…good bye.”

  Maurice saw Madeleine to the door, but she suddenly turned, her cheeks flushed red. “We got all carried away with the Power cage and I almost forgot to tell you. I didn’t just explore Aaron’s books, as you asked me. I was good. I searched his drawers. On my first day here, when I was dusting, I saw Vera Nightingale search everywhere in Aaron’s study. I think she was looking for this.” She handed him a tiny antique key. “I found it wedged at the back of the second drawer.”

  Maurice noted the curious engraving on the ornate bow. He wondered where he had seen the same insignia before. Was it in Calista’s room? He couldn’t say.

  “I looked everywhere in the study,” said Madeleine, “but I found no document box or casket for this key. There has to be one, though. I’m sure it’s somewhere in the house. Perhaps you might have a better idea, Mr. Leroux. Who knows what Aaron was hiding?” She winked.

  “Well done, Madeleine,” said Maurice. He felt a tinge of emotion that surprised him. “I suppose…I must say goodbye, for now at least. And…take care of yourself.”

  Before he could finish, Madeleine had raised herself to his height and laid a kiss on his cheek.

  “You must come see me on the stage some time,” she suggested. “When this is all over, I mean.”

  She did not wait for his answer. She slipped outside without looking back.

  Maurice wiped the smile off his face. He dropped the key into his pocket, promising himself he would hunt for its casket once he had finished Aaron’s journal.

  He waited a few minutes after Madeleine had left, then buttoned up his vest and headed for Aaron’s study.

  Aaron’s Secrets

  THERE were countless volumes on marine life. All the mysteries of the sea unfolded before his eyes. Dark, monstrous, and forbidding. Yet as much as he rifled through these scientific pages, Maurice could find no references to an Ovee.

  Had this creature actually existed?

  Maurice had closed the door to the study, but he could hear the maids’ vibrant voices as they prepared to leave for Reading Town. Willy’s playful barks brought a smile to his face. They would all be gone soon. Mrs. Cleary would not like it. She hated losing control.

  Maurice’s thoughts drifted back to Ovee. There was much he still did not understand.

  It must have been for a reason if Calista’s spirit had written this name in his journal. Why Ovee? What did she want Maurice to know?

  Maurice opened Aaron’s journal. He had abandoned it since last night as he was too sickened by its contents. But he had no choice. He had to continue reading, however painful. It was the only way he might discover what had happened to Ovee. Perhaps it would finally shed light on why Calista haunted Alexandra Hall.

  He picked up from where he left off.

  Aaron eschewed all descriptions of Ovee. He had done so to ensure no one could replicate his grotesque research. Yet several passages caught Maurice’s attention.

  It is a creature of enormous appetites, and with such a short lifespan, less than 18 months, it must live at an accelerated rate.

  Ovee One is more clever than expected. Within the first week, it approached Calista readily and presented its head to her. As for me, if I near, it retreats, and even now, it does not reach out.

  Like a dog, it knows boredom. It seeks to pry and to wrest objects from our hands. It attempts to flee.

  It is mischievous like a child. The first time we carried it to the operating table to ascertain the best means to restrain its movements, it evaded our grasp. It climbed upon the far end of the table, seized my writing implements and smeared ink all over the desk.

  In later notes, Aaron mentioned failed experiments.

  Calista’s attempts are in vain. Ovee One continues to feel pain. Animal magnetism seems to have no effect during operations.

  But I am not deterred.

  Despite my reduction of the drug dosage, Ovee One has become more revengeful and more aggressive. In this, it will only attack me and is ever bonded to Calista.

  And further down the page,

  Ovee One has died. Calista wept for weeks.

  Maurice flicked through the journal. A new shipment. Over the course of 1846, Aaron reached a breakthrough. Minor operations on Ovee Two were recorded as successful and painless. Then suddenly, as the year progressed, the experiments began to fail. Like its predecessor, Ovee Two began to show signs of aggression, despite receiving smaller drug doses. It, too, died soon after.

  Over the Christmas period, there were no experiments. Only the following lines,

  Calista is greatly distraught.

  But the surprise is mine. Despite the emotional distress which these premature losses have occasioned, I observed a stronger bond between Calista and this species than has existed with any other.

  And then this epiphany, which Aaron had sheepishly written at the foot of the page,

  Aristotle was deeply wrong. So shall I continue?

  Perplexed, Maurice’s eye fell on the ceramic bust on Aaron’s desk. Returning to the journal, he saw that in the spring of 1847, the Nightingales had suspended all work to give Calista time to recover from past losses.

  Then in May 1847, Aaron had scribed an unsettling entry.

  Science has made enormous progress. I have, in my desk drawers, several phials of this ether which renders operations painless.

  Today begins a new endeavour. For what is the use of employing animal magnetism as an anaesthetic when ether now makes this readily achievable?

  From today, I shall design experiments aimed at creating trauma in the subject.

  In disbelief, Maurice read on. In August 1847, a new shipment had arrived. Ovee Three. It had cost Aaron a fortune, for the creature had been born only two weeks before b
eing ushered to London by private cargo.

  John had supervised the shipping. In his notes, Aaron even spoke of the champagne he had drunk with his brother in celebration. Confused, John had accepted, though he was ignorant to what Aaron toasted.

  When Aaron finally summoned Calista to return to work, she had lost much weight. She seemed overcome by an unabated darkness. But to Aaron’s astonishment, she soon fell in love. Ovee Three became her world.

  Calista has never felt the same way towards a subject as she has now. The effect Ovee Three has on her has been beyond my imagining.

  With this new subject, I aim to prove trauma can be undone, physical harmony can be restored, and that the means to achieve all this, is animal magnetism.

  Maurice’s heart lurched in his chest. Upon this ominous statement, Aaron’s folly descended into cruelty.

  Maurice flicked through pages, eager to discard the passages that followed. For three months, the young Ovee Three had endured unimaginable experiments – forced medication, burning, amputation of limbs, electrical charges – all aimed at inflicting pain and imbalance, in the belief Calista’s magnetic powers would restore it to wellbeing.

  Poor Calista. The terror she had endured. Torn between her duty to Aaron and her love of Ovee, no wonder she had fallen ill in the winter. Anyone’s spirit would be broken by such savagery. But to be forced to partake in such vile acts… It explained her anger. Was this why she was returned in spirit form? Did she mourn Ovee Three? Was she doomed to roam Alexandra Hall, fettered by the memory of all she had seen?

  Maurice skipped to the end of the journal. There was no mention of Ovee Three’s death but he guessed it must have died too.

  The last page had been ripped out and only its jagged outline remained. Within the inner folds of the journal’s leather jacket, was a sealed envelope stamped with a Penny Black. Maurice tore open this letter. It was dated on the first week of August 1848, only a few days before Aaron’s death, and most odd of all, it was addressed to Vera Nightingale.