Chapter Twenty

Erik.

I had intended to visit Meg at Kirkbride once a week, but with the other commitments and responsibilities involved in running the Imaginarium, twenty-one days sped by since I had been to the asylum, and I had barely left Brooklyn. I knew that Irene Norbury and Lucy Phelps visited their stricken colleague, taking my best wishes with them, and both seemed subdued at work the following day.

Seamus Donnelley was my go-between with Dr Lockwood when it came to arranging music at Kirkbride. At first, I entertained the idea of performing a scaled-down version of the Imaginarium's show, but worried that iy might seem to Meg that I was slapping her in the face with her troubles. She might think that I was trying to show off her failings. Instead, I donated the portable piano I had played while the Imaginarium was a travelling show, and piles of sheet music. Other musicians donated their own old instruments; a cello, a flute, a violin, a glockenspiel and some small percussion instruments. Lockwood had sent letters to the contacts of the other women in his care with requests for further contributions, and Donnelly reported that plans for a modest music room had developed into space for a small orchestra.

On my return to my apartment from a meeting with my investors in Manhattan, I saw that there was a large envelope in my pigeonhole, sealed with Kirkbride's logo. Once inside, I slit it open with my penknife and drew out the thick wad of documents. A covering letter from Lockwood explained that these were the transcripts from his most recent talking therapy sessions with Meg, and had been made available to me as per my request.

I cooked and ate dinner before reading, then settled down in an armchair with a glass of brandy at my side and scanned the first page. It had been type-written on a machine that left a slurring over the letter L and a slight defect in the tail of the G. The transcript was laid out like a play script, lines of dialogue separated by line breaks and opening with a hyphen, and the doctor's notes in parenthesis. There was no indication of who was speaking, as there would be in a real script, but it was obvious from their context.

Patient: 243. Giry, Marguerite Evangeline

Attending Physician: Lockwood, R

I scanned through the small talk as Meg and Lockwood greeted each other and he tried to get Meg settled. I could picture them in the doctor's office, sitting on either side of the wooden desk, sunshine streaming in through the window behind him. Meg would shift the chair so that the light did not hit her full in the face, and would sit with her hands in her lap, fingers clasped together in a complicated knot.

They began this session by discussing the record that Meg had been keeping of her dreams. I hadn't known that dream interpretation was anything more than trickery, and wondered what Lockwood could divine from her nocturnal imaginings. Meg frequently dreamed of me and her colleagues at the Imaginarium. She dreamed of her childhood friends and does at the Paris Opera House, of her parents, about making love to her Irish fiancé Benedict Adaire. Lockwood seized on this emotional thread.

- I would like you to tell me about your first sexual experience.

- Why?

- Because it may be relevant to your breakdown. How old were you when you lost your virginity?

- I was seventeen years old.

That made me blink, as I had believed that Meg's first lover had been Benedict Adaire, her future fiancé, when she was twenty. But for the majority of her seventeenth year, Meg had been sharing a home with Madame Giry and I; I could not imagine how she might have hidden the loss of her virginity from us, let alone carried on a romantic engagement.

- And what were the circumstances surrounding your decision to sleep with a man at that time?

(Note: Patient is unresponsive)

- Had you fallen in love with him?

- No, I was not in love.

- Were you in a relationship?

- No.

- Did this man assault you, Miss Giry?

I could feel a pounding in my temples and a tightness in my throat.

- I don't think so.

- Please explain what you mean.

I could imagine Meg shifting in the chair, her face blushing red, her fingers twisting in her lap.

- It was a business transaction.

- You were working as a prostitute?

- No! I was working in a fair in France, all of us were. The man who ran it was called Henri Granjin. He was taking advantage of Mr Danton.

- In what way?

- You know that he wears a mask to conceal a deformity?

- Yes.

- Granjin was forcing him to reveal his deformity to the public, even though he did not want to. They had agreed that if Mr Danton did this, he would get paid more, and would therefore be able to buy himself, Mother and I out of the contracts we had signed with Granjin.

- I am not understanding the relevance, Miss Giry.

- Erik was tormented by what he was doing, and it was having a very bad impact upon him. He was having nightmares and becoming difficult to live with because of how it was affecting his temperament. It wasn't fair. So I went to Granjin and I told him that I would give him my virginity if he agreed to let us out of our contracts with him.

I put the papers down on the table beside me and took up the brandy, gulping the beverage until the glass was empty and my throat was burning. I could not believe what I was reading even though it was before me in black and white. Meg had given herself to Granjin like some common whore in order to spare my suffering. I could not think why she would have believed that it was her responsibility to do so. I would have continued to display my face until our debt was paid, even though I was humiliated. Had I really become so much of a monster that Meg had truly believed that trading her virginity for our freedom was the only option she had?

My hands were shaking when I picked up the pages again.

- What made you think that this Granjin would be agreeable to your proposal?

- He was that sort of man. I had met them before and have met them since. I suppose I thought that it was all I had that would relieve us of the hardship we were in. Only a few weeks before a man had offered to trade my virginity for his silence on a sensitive matter, and I knew that Granjin was cut from the same cloth.

Philippe de Chagny, of course. I had seen him as a predator easily enough, but Granjin had pulled the wool over my eyes. I had had no idea that the fair owner was sexually interested in Meg.

- Was Granjin gentle with you, knowing that you were a virgin?

- No. I don't think he meant to hurt me, but when I told him that I would sleep with him, he agreed straight away, and the deed was done almost immediately.

- Were you meeting at his home, then? Or yours?

- No, we were at the fair. Granjin lived in a caravan a little way from the fairground with his wife and daughters. He took me there. It didn't take long, thank goodness. I remember being terrified of the consequences that would occur if Erik or Mother found me at the fair, having told me not to be there.

(Note: Patient is emotional)

I stared in disgust at the note. Of course the patient was emotional, she was telling him that she had been subjected to, in my opinion, rape. Meg had not been in a relationship with Granjin, she had no desire to sleep with him, and yet she had done it, for me. And of course she had been afraid of my response had I found out she had disobeyed me yet again. Unaware as I would have been of the reason for the transgression, I would have considered that I had no other choice than to subject her to another beating. She must have been terrified of me.

- Miss Giry, if you were worried about the affect this treatment was having on your guardian, why didn't you tell someone?

- Tell who? I could hardly tell him, and Mother had enough to worry about as it was.

- Why did you feel the need to take matters into your own hands?

- Because I had to!

(Note: Patient rises and starts walking around the office)

- Please sit down, Miss Giry.

- You don't understand! How could you ever understand? You're a well-off man who never felt the need to run from anything!

- What were you running from?

(Note: Patient resumes seat)

- You promise me that this is all confidential, Dr Lockwood? Even if I said something incriminating, you would not tell it to the police?

- As stated in the document you signed, Miss Giry, we would only pass information to unauthorised personnel if we felt that you were presenting a danger to yourself or to those around you. At this time, I do not believe that to be the case.

I wondered if Meg even remembered the document that she had signed on the day I had escorted her to Kirkbride, whether or not she had taken in its meaning. Did she know that I was even now reading these revelations that she had kept from me for almost six years?

I read on as Meg told Dr Lockwood that we had fled Paris because the gendarmes suspected her mother, herself and I of involvement in a crime, although she did not elaborate, even when he pressed her for further details. She did not tell him about her role in the death of Philippe de Chagny. She explained about my desire to leave Corbeaux and start a new life in America gave her the impression that the sooner we were no longer employed by Granjin, the better.

- Why didn't the three of you simply leave this fair, even if you feared there would be a financial penalty?

- Because Granjin told me that he knew who we were and what we had done. He told me that he had connections that would ensure we would be caught if we tried to run. I only did what I felt that I had to do, Dr Lockwood. So, that is hoe I came to lose my virginity. Does it further your ideas as to my treatment at all?

I could not read any further at that point; my mind was reeling from the information, and my own ignorance. Meg had been violated, perhaps brutally, and I had done nothing. The words I had spoken to her when she confessed that she feared such a violation ran through my mind:

I will not have another man sully what is mine.

But Meg had not allowed me to do anything, she had deliberately hidden her actions from me in a desperate bid for liberty. Fool that I was, I had felt at the time that Granjin had rather abruptly dismissed the three of us from his employment, after weeks of insisting that I humiliate myself in exchange for our freedom, but had never imagined the reason. What an idiotic, sad exchange. We would be having words, Marguerite Giry and I.

My hands still shaking, I reached for the decanter of brandy to refill my glass, and the Kirkbride papers slid off my lap, across the floor. With an oath I knelt to gather them up, and paused, unable to believe that the typewriter had formed the letters in the correct order. There was a name on the transcript. A name I knew well. A name which, when I scanned the text and found that it related further incidents of sexual intercourse in Meg's young life, had no business being there.

XXXXX

I hammered on the door of Thomas Seymour's Manhattan home so hard that it made my fist sting. It was answered by a girl in a maid's uniform who could not have been more than twenty. She looked apprehensive at just answering such a thunderous knock, and even more so when she took in my appearance.

"Yes, sir?" She spoke barely above a whisper.

"My name is Erik Danton. I must speak to your master immediately. My card."

"Please come in, Mr Danton, I will see if Mr Seymour is available to speak with you."

"I must insist that he is." I stepped over the threshold.

"Please wait here."

I waited in a fever of impatience in the hallway, a small room decorated in black and white tiles with a staircase to my left. On the walls were portraits dating from the colonial period to the modern day, and I wondered distractedly if Seymour had any relationship to the founding fathers of America. Perhaps that was how he made his money. There were portraits of the current family too, Seymour and his late wife, two sons in their mid and late teens, and a daughter who was about Meg's age and who I thought I recognised. Perhaps she had accompanied her father to the Imaginarium.

"Mr Danton?" The maid had returned. "Please, follow me."

Seymour was in a drawing room decorated in rich, jewel-coloured fabrics. In deference to the lateness of the hour, he was wearing his slippers, and a dark red dressing gown over his shirtsleeves. He had been sitting in one of two chairs near the fire, a book and a pipe on the small table beside it. He had risen to greet me when I entered the room.

"Mr Danton, sir." The girl announced.

"Thank you Susan. Can you take my guest's hat and coat please?"

I removed my outdoor clothing and gave it to the girl, although my teeth ground together at the delay. Once we were alone I turned back to him.

"To what do I owe the pleasure, Mr Danton?"

"There is nothing pleasurable about this, Mr Seymour," I growled. "How long have you known Marguerite Giry?"

He chuckled. "What a peculiar question. I have known her since the Imaginarium settled on Coney Island in 1900, you introduced me to her yourself at the dinner we went to for your investors."

"And you enjoyed conversing with her?"

"Of course, she is a charming young lady. What is this about?"

"Perhaps if you had listened harder during your intimate conversations then you would know that it is a mistake to lie to me!"

Seymour stared at me in silence for a long moment, and then nodded slowly.

"How much do you know?"

"I know enough! I know that you have not only had an intimate relationship with Meg Giry, but that the two of you conspired to hide the fact from me!"

"And is it any wonder?" He moved over to a liquor cabinet by the window and opened it, producing two glasses and filling them both with port, and he nodded to the two fireside chairs. "Won't you sit down, Mr Danton?" When I did not move or reply, he continued: "I will not have this conversation with you if you do not sit down."

Glaring at him, I took the opposite chair and let Seymour hand me one of the glasses of port.

"There is a brothel on the West side of Brooklyn called de Tourney's. It's actually in one of the residential streets and used to be the Mayflower Hotel. I have been patronising it for many years because I used to live in the area before my marriage, and because it is there that I find models for my artwork. I met a girl there called Odette in the winter of 1898, and found that she was extremely new to the trade. She had never even experienced an orgasm. Can you imagine, being in the oldest profession in the world and not having wrought the pleasure the nature bestows upon it?"

I felt my body flooding with disgust at his tone.

"I did not know that she was Meg Giry at the time, but I will tell you what I did know. She was working at de Tourney's for a few hours every day, while working another shift at a textiles factory. She had been working in the factory full time, but her hours had been cut after she was attacked and hospitalised. She was extremely worried about the expense that hospitalisation had caused and the burden it was placing on her family, and had taken it upon herself to repay that so-called debt as quickly as possible. I found her to be a lovely and bright girl who was struggling with a string of bad luck and a home environment that was not congenial to her."

"You defiled her!"

"Hardly, she was no virgin when I met her. What she was, was afraid. Yes, I bedded Meg Giry, Danton, but I never beat her."

"That was a single occasion!"

"I don't think so. I saw the scars on her back, and she admitted that you had taken your belt to her. But I also remember her face being covered in bruises because you had lost your temper and struck her the previous day; at least I never laid a hand on her in anger or in violence. I wanted to look after Meg, and I even petitioned the owner to let me have exclusivity of her so that no-one else could have sex with her. She refused the idea on the grounds that it would mean she would earn less money and not be able to pay off her hospital bill fast enough."

"It was not her responsibility to pay off the hospital bill," I muttered. "And when she lost her job she should simply have come to me and her mother. God, Antoinette must be turning in her grave! We would never sanction such behaviour!"

"She was just trying to survive, Danton, and provide for those she loved, even though you were frightening her half to death with your temper and your sharp tongue. And it is a good thing for you that she did."

"What do you mean?"

"It was she who first told me about your plans for the Imaginarium. If it weren't for her, I probably would not have invested my money into your project. If it weren't for my continued affection for the girl, I probably would not still be investing to this day."

I took a swallow of the port.

"Did you know that she is pregnant?"

"I did not. But if you are implying that the child is mine, then that is impossible. I have not slept with Meg Giry in five years. I invited her into my bed, of course, but she refused me. I believe that she was still mourning the man she fell in love with, and maybe would have seen it as a betrayal of him."

I wanted to throw the glass of port across the room, but I restrained myself and merely took another sip. Seymour watched me, his expression calm.

"So now you know that Meg Giry and I once had a relationship. It was a very brief one, completely consensual, and during a time when she took it upon herself to provide for her mother and for you. So where does this leave us? Do you wish me to withdraw my funds from the Imaginarium?"

"No." It pained me to speak the word.

"I thought not. Be assured, Mr Danton that I have no desire to pursue Miss Giry again, especially if she is carrying someone else's child, so you need not worry that I will be preying on her when she returns to the Imaginarium. Such men are beasts beyond toleration, as you know. Is there anything else I can do for you?"

"I do not believe there is anything more to be said," I replied through gritted teeth. Seymour stood up, crossed to the fireplace and rang the little bell that sat upon it.

"Then I shall instruct Susan to bring you your hat and coat. I will see you when I next visit the Imaginarium, and hope that you will pass on my best wishes to Meg the next time you visit her. Goodnight, Mr Danton."

XXXXX

The Brooklyn Observer, 23 May 1901

Firefighters Discover Brothel

The building that was formerly known as the Mayflower Hotel was discovered to be an illegal brothel last night after firefighters were called to tackle a blaze that originated in the kitchen. The conflagration caused severe smoke damage to the lower floor of the building but was quickly contained and police were called to establish whether it was an accident or an arson attempt. No residents were harmed. As it happens, police were already familiar with the former Mayflower Hotel, having been called there several times over the last few years by neighbours who were disturbed by frequent activity in the building and the surrounding streets. It has been discovered that the owner of the Mayflower Hotel, a French immigrant called Alain de Tourney, had been using it as an illegal brothel. It is believed that some of the girls working there were forced to do so as a result of being blackmailed by de Tourney, or to pay off debts. Police say that they are working with the Mayor to achieve a long-term solution to the problem of prostitution which continues to plague our streets.