Chapter 4- Arrival
The asylum loomed up ahead, dark and forbidding, framed in the far from placid thundering clouds that circled far above. Other than the desolate shape, hardly anything could be made out in the cold, hard rain that poured stubbornly down on them.
Christina Chauncer's heart pounded in her chest, she would be seeing Coulmier so soon. Her eyes had been fixed on the shape that slowly got larger and larger, not noticing Mr. Johnson had been staring contentedly at her for the past five minutes.
If one could have read Mr. Johnson's mind at that moment, his cruel thoughts would have been this. He pitied her, it was true. Nobody so young, so precious, should have so much strain on their heart. But more so he pitied himself. Damn this Coulmier! Why did she shed those tears for him, a man who chose to love god over this beautiful child that no doubt would have been his at any moment he asked? But he, Mr. Johnson, had never had the opportunity to be loved. Wasn't that a cause to be pitied?
Mr. Johnson had never so much as asked for a penny's worth of tears when his life was filled with woe, not that that had been too often, yet now he wanted more than any thing for her to throw out her slender arms and exclaim, "Poor Mr. Johnson, such terribly lonely life!"
His attention went back to her, still staring, wondering what fate awaited her beloved. For no doubt she loved him. And not as a brother either. She loved him as a wife will love her husband. With his many years of experience and life, Mr. Johnson was sure of this notion.
He broke his gaze and shook his head. But yet, why shouldn't she belong to him. It was insane, Mr. Johnson reminded himself, to think this young woman, life fully ahead of her, would ever fall for him. But love was not always essential. Security he could offer her. And even if he could not offer her that, he deserved her. After all of the trials his life had brought along, working his ass off for the rest of the world, she was his!
It was at this moment that Mr. Johnson made a promise to himself that he would have Miss Chauncer no matter what he had to do. He would have continued and elaborated his promises to himself about what he would do to her once she did belong to him, but the coach stopped and Christina gave a small moan.
Christina had no thought of all about her future at the moment, and the thought that somebody was planning it for her at that very moment was no where in her mind. She was worried, not for herself of course. Coulmier's trial was only four days away now, and that was counting that very day.
The door opened and out side stood a tall, bald man, garbed in a black over coat, drenched to the bone. "Well then, come on! You best hurry, rains terribly today. We've got tea waiting for you, and the Doctor will see you after that. Come on!" said the man, helping Christina down, who took his advice and ran full out across the mad to the door.
The first thing you will notice about the wretched asylum are the screams that echo endlessly down corridors, bouncing off the cold stone walls. Ah, and then that wonderful sense of smell kicks in and with the smell of rot, mildew and death all mixed into one alluring aroma, the set is almost set. Immediately Christina thought to Paris in just one building.
Mr. Johnson, seeing her disgusted look, quickly pulled from his pocket a handkerchief and handed it to her to place under her nose.
It may seem hard to believe Christina could be totally oblivious to all of these signs of affection from Mr. Johnson, but with Coulmier's life on the line, she had more important things to worry about, something Mr. Johnson seemed to notice and grew increasingly more envious.
"In here, if you please. There's some tea by the fire if you would like. The Doctor will see just as soon as he can," the tall man said rather hastily, closing the door behind Mr. Johnson and Christina.
Christina walked over to the tea and shakily poured herself a cup, spilling quite a bit. "Would you like a cup, Mr. Johnson?"
Smiling slightly, "Yes, but perhaps I should do the honors." He to the teapot away from her, making sure to touch her hand and feel her warmth. She backed away a bit nervously.
Sitting down at a chair near to the fire, "Last night, when you were looking over Coulmier's records, did you find anything useful?"
Mr. Johnson joined her, "Other than that he has a clean record, spotless record. Yet nothing that could prove him innocent I am afraid." He to a long sip and watched her fidget around as if trying desperately to think of some grand thought. "But don't worry, something is bound to come up." His tone wasn't very convincing, almost lazy and not caring.
Christina was just about to comment on his tone when Doctor Royer- Collard burst merrily in. His was a man, slightly older than Mr. Johnson, with pure white hair and a devious grimace upon his face. Immediately Christina did not like him nor trust him.
"You must be Christina Chauncer. I hope you are lovely. And this must be the acclaimed Mr. Johnson! An honor sir, truly an honor! It is a pleasure to meet you both," the man weaseled, though looking as far from a weasel as could be and more like an over fed hog.
He shook their hands and pointed back to where they had been sitting.
Before Mr. Johnson could express his thanks, Christina burst out, trying to seem as for from rude as possible, " With all due respect sir, I would very much like to see Coulmier now."
The doctor stared her up and down for a moment and then, "Very well. I can not contain such an eager young foal. You will see that disgrace to the Catholic religion now. But I must warn you he is very mentally unstable."
It was all Christina could do to hold in the slap she would have liked to plant on the Doctors cheek and the obscene comment, which would have accompanied it. Mr. Johnson, sensing the trouble, "Well on we go then." ***********
His fingers picked at the stone floor, playing with the dust dully. Just one thing was in his mind, she was coming today. At this point, it did not matter to him that she would not be able to save his life, but to see a friendly, loving face was more than he could have ever wished for.
Madeleine had returned to her corner and would not cease to stare at him. She was frowning, a complete sign of jealousy. He smiled grimly at the thought of for once making this figment aggravated, then curled up tightly in a ball so she could pester him no longer by her sight.
Then there was a voice, soft and flowing from beyond the door. He listened as it grew steadily louder. There were three voices, one female, two male. He leapt to his feet, his weakness from hunger forgotten. Now he heard it loud and clear as a bell, "You have him locked in here!"
He heard her tiny feet run to the door and hand push with every bit of herself to open the rusted window. He saw her.
Not sure whether it was another mind game, he slowly reached his hand out to touch her face. Real.
"Christina!" he managed to exclaim.
"Don't be worried. I'm hear everything will be okay," she whispered through the window, taking his hand and resting her cheek on it.
The asylum loomed up ahead, dark and forbidding, framed in the far from placid thundering clouds that circled far above. Other than the desolate shape, hardly anything could be made out in the cold, hard rain that poured stubbornly down on them.
Christina Chauncer's heart pounded in her chest, she would be seeing Coulmier so soon. Her eyes had been fixed on the shape that slowly got larger and larger, not noticing Mr. Johnson had been staring contentedly at her for the past five minutes.
If one could have read Mr. Johnson's mind at that moment, his cruel thoughts would have been this. He pitied her, it was true. Nobody so young, so precious, should have so much strain on their heart. But more so he pitied himself. Damn this Coulmier! Why did she shed those tears for him, a man who chose to love god over this beautiful child that no doubt would have been his at any moment he asked? But he, Mr. Johnson, had never had the opportunity to be loved. Wasn't that a cause to be pitied?
Mr. Johnson had never so much as asked for a penny's worth of tears when his life was filled with woe, not that that had been too often, yet now he wanted more than any thing for her to throw out her slender arms and exclaim, "Poor Mr. Johnson, such terribly lonely life!"
His attention went back to her, still staring, wondering what fate awaited her beloved. For no doubt she loved him. And not as a brother either. She loved him as a wife will love her husband. With his many years of experience and life, Mr. Johnson was sure of this notion.
He broke his gaze and shook his head. But yet, why shouldn't she belong to him. It was insane, Mr. Johnson reminded himself, to think this young woman, life fully ahead of her, would ever fall for him. But love was not always essential. Security he could offer her. And even if he could not offer her that, he deserved her. After all of the trials his life had brought along, working his ass off for the rest of the world, she was his!
It was at this moment that Mr. Johnson made a promise to himself that he would have Miss Chauncer no matter what he had to do. He would have continued and elaborated his promises to himself about what he would do to her once she did belong to him, but the coach stopped and Christina gave a small moan.
Christina had no thought of all about her future at the moment, and the thought that somebody was planning it for her at that very moment was no where in her mind. She was worried, not for herself of course. Coulmier's trial was only four days away now, and that was counting that very day.
The door opened and out side stood a tall, bald man, garbed in a black over coat, drenched to the bone. "Well then, come on! You best hurry, rains terribly today. We've got tea waiting for you, and the Doctor will see you after that. Come on!" said the man, helping Christina down, who took his advice and ran full out across the mad to the door.
The first thing you will notice about the wretched asylum are the screams that echo endlessly down corridors, bouncing off the cold stone walls. Ah, and then that wonderful sense of smell kicks in and with the smell of rot, mildew and death all mixed into one alluring aroma, the set is almost set. Immediately Christina thought to Paris in just one building.
Mr. Johnson, seeing her disgusted look, quickly pulled from his pocket a handkerchief and handed it to her to place under her nose.
It may seem hard to believe Christina could be totally oblivious to all of these signs of affection from Mr. Johnson, but with Coulmier's life on the line, she had more important things to worry about, something Mr. Johnson seemed to notice and grew increasingly more envious.
"In here, if you please. There's some tea by the fire if you would like. The Doctor will see just as soon as he can," the tall man said rather hastily, closing the door behind Mr. Johnson and Christina.
Christina walked over to the tea and shakily poured herself a cup, spilling quite a bit. "Would you like a cup, Mr. Johnson?"
Smiling slightly, "Yes, but perhaps I should do the honors." He to the teapot away from her, making sure to touch her hand and feel her warmth. She backed away a bit nervously.
Sitting down at a chair near to the fire, "Last night, when you were looking over Coulmier's records, did you find anything useful?"
Mr. Johnson joined her, "Other than that he has a clean record, spotless record. Yet nothing that could prove him innocent I am afraid." He to a long sip and watched her fidget around as if trying desperately to think of some grand thought. "But don't worry, something is bound to come up." His tone wasn't very convincing, almost lazy and not caring.
Christina was just about to comment on his tone when Doctor Royer- Collard burst merrily in. His was a man, slightly older than Mr. Johnson, with pure white hair and a devious grimace upon his face. Immediately Christina did not like him nor trust him.
"You must be Christina Chauncer. I hope you are lovely. And this must be the acclaimed Mr. Johnson! An honor sir, truly an honor! It is a pleasure to meet you both," the man weaseled, though looking as far from a weasel as could be and more like an over fed hog.
He shook their hands and pointed back to where they had been sitting.
Before Mr. Johnson could express his thanks, Christina burst out, trying to seem as for from rude as possible, " With all due respect sir, I would very much like to see Coulmier now."
The doctor stared her up and down for a moment and then, "Very well. I can not contain such an eager young foal. You will see that disgrace to the Catholic religion now. But I must warn you he is very mentally unstable."
It was all Christina could do to hold in the slap she would have liked to plant on the Doctors cheek and the obscene comment, which would have accompanied it. Mr. Johnson, sensing the trouble, "Well on we go then." ***********
His fingers picked at the stone floor, playing with the dust dully. Just one thing was in his mind, she was coming today. At this point, it did not matter to him that she would not be able to save his life, but to see a friendly, loving face was more than he could have ever wished for.
Madeleine had returned to her corner and would not cease to stare at him. She was frowning, a complete sign of jealousy. He smiled grimly at the thought of for once making this figment aggravated, then curled up tightly in a ball so she could pester him no longer by her sight.
Then there was a voice, soft and flowing from beyond the door. He listened as it grew steadily louder. There were three voices, one female, two male. He leapt to his feet, his weakness from hunger forgotten. Now he heard it loud and clear as a bell, "You have him locked in here!"
He heard her tiny feet run to the door and hand push with every bit of herself to open the rusted window. He saw her.
Not sure whether it was another mind game, he slowly reached his hand out to touch her face. Real.
"Christina!" he managed to exclaim.
"Don't be worried. I'm hear everything will be okay," she whispered through the window, taking his hand and resting her cheek on it.