Page 83 of Beyond the Grave
"Alas, yes," I said. "Yet he's excessively clever and lively and one can't help but admire his quality."
"It's often the clever, lively ones who need to come here," Fourner assured me. "I see quite a lot of that type, sadly. Your ward will be very welcome at Bethlehem Hospital, and I'm sure he'll be cured within the year with our treatments. Did Lord Harcourt inform you of our fees?"
"He did," Lincoln said. "The cost is not a problem. Indeed, I plan to give extra to insure my ward's comfort."
Fourner's eyes lit up. "Capital! Now, Mrs. Buchanan, if you wouldn't mind waiting here while I escort your husband through the facility. Nurse Elliot will see to your needs."
"I'm coming," I told him with gritty determination. "My nerves will be quite safe with my husband here to protect me. He's so very capable, you see, and he understands me perfectly. It's almost as if he knows what I'm thinking before I do."
Fourner gave a confused little laugh. "Charming. Very well then, come with me. But do not engage with the patients, no matter what they say to you. And stay close. I'll show you the men's wing, since your ward is male."
With his warning ringing in my ears, we walked through the door into a long gallery. It looked like an extended drawing room, with comfortable armchairs spaced along the wall, and occasional tables topped with potted plants and vases of flowers. The blue and gold carpet deadened our footsteps until we paused at one of the many doors leading off the gallery.
"The ground floor apartments are for the use of our least troublesome patients," Fourner said as he entered the parlor.
Men dressed in plain trousers, shirts and waistcoats sat in armchairs, reading newspapers or journals. Some looked up and, seeing nothing of interest, returned to their reading. One man rose and bowed, as if we were royalty, and another sang quietly to himself in the corner. Yet another crouched on the floor, his gaze on the fire burning in the grate. A system of iron rails barred it, the gaps too narrow to reach through. There must be a key to open it, to allow the orderlies access to the fireplace but not patients.
Fourner droned on about the latest techniques in treating troubled patients such as these by keeping them active and stimulating their mind. Restraint and medication weren't necessary. He took us back out to the gallery, then into each room leading off it. He nodded at nurses and men dressed in blue, whom I suspected were orderlies, and occasionally spoke to a patient in the condescending manner that some adults used when speaking to children.
By the time we reached the stairs at the end of the gallery, we'd still not seen any sign of Andrew Buchanan. On the next level we found cells with up to six beds in each. There were no screens or curtains separating them, and no fires burned in any of the fireplaces. The rooms were freezing. Some beds were occupied by sleeping patients, while others were made without a single wrinkle in the covers.
"Does my cousin reside in any of these rooms?" Lincoln asked, as we headed up yet another set of stairs.
"He does."
"Is he a difficult patient?"
"Not anymore."
"Meaning?"
"Meaning his treatment has calmed him."
"What sort of treatment?"
"A combination of the latest medicines and certain incentives have seen his behavior improve considerably."
"What sort of incentives?"
Fourner stopped and opened a door. The whitewashed walls reflected the light streaming in from the single high window and it took a moment for my eyes to adjust. The room contained two copper tubs that reached to chest height with a tap sprouting from the wall into each. The room must be plumbed, as was the bathroom at Lichfield Towers, yet it contained no flushing toilet or basin.
"What is this room used for?" I asked.
"This is one of our incentives," Fourner explained with a smug smile. "Or, rather, a disincentive. Misbehaving patients are submerged to their necks in cold baths."
"Cold baths!"
"Ice-cold, Mrs. Buchanan. A few minutes in one of those tubs sees them desperate to get out again. They quickly learn that only calmness will see them freed."
I folded my arms and hugged my chest, but it didn't suppress my shiver. "Did Andrew find himself in one of these?"
Fourner nodded and ushered us outside again. "When he woke up, that first morning after his arrival, he was a ranting lunatic, shouting obscenities at my staff and making a nuisance of himself. But after the cold baths and two days alone in one of our India-rubber cells, he learned that submission is the best way to get along here at Bethlehem."
Lincoln put up a hand, halting our progress along the corridor. "India-rubber cells?"
"Lined with cork and India-rubber, actually. The lack of bedding and other amenities means they cannot harm themselves. We find the isolation gives them time to reflect in peace. It's very soothing for the mind. Medication helps too, of course."
"Of course," Lincoln said drily.
