Reminder: During this period it is the year 1998. Also to answer the question from before, yes I'm going to rewrite the whole book like this. Enjoy!
Chapter 3: Dr. Felix Charnock
The next thing I remember is, waking up with a feeling as if I had had a terrible nightmare, and in front of me a terrible red glare, crossed with thick black bars. I heard voices, too, speaking with a hollow sound, and as if muffled by a rush of wind or water: agitation, uncertainty, and an all-predominating sense of terror confused me. Not long after, I became aware that some one was touching me; lifting me up and supporting me in a sitting posture, and more tenderly than I had ever been touched before. I rested my head against the pillow or an arm, and felt easy.
After five minutes the cloud of bewilderment dissolved: I knew quite well that I was in my own bed, and that the red glare was the nursery fire. It was night: a candle burnt on the table; Agatha stood at the foot of my bed with a basin in her hand, and a gentleman sat in a chair near my pillow, leaning over me.
I felt an inexpressible relief, a soothing conviction of protection and security, when I knew that there was a stranger in the room, an individual not belonging to the mansion, and not related to Aunt Yule. Turning from Agatha, I scrutinized the face of the gentleman: I knew him; it was Mr. Felix Charnock, the physician, sometimes called in by Aunt Yule when the servants were sick: for herself and the children she employed a higher class physician.
"Well, who am I?" he asked.
I pronounced his name, offering him at the same time my hand: he took it, and smiled. Then he laid me down, and addressing Agatha, told her to be very careful that I was not disturbed during the night. Having given some further directions, he said he would come again the next day, he left; to my grief: I felt so warm and happy while he sat in the chair near my pillow; and when he closed the door after him, the room darkened and my heart sank again: inexpressible sadness weighed it down.
"Do you feel tired, Zoe?" Agatha asked softly.
"Yes."
"Would you like to drink, or eat anything?"
"No, thank you, Agatha."
"Then I'll go to bed, it's past midnight; but call me if you want anything at night."
We spoke so civily! It made me ask a question.
"Agatha, what's wrong with me? Am I sick?"
"Yes, I suppose, in the red-room while crying; you'll be better soon, don't worry."
Agatha went into the maid's bedroom, which was near. I heard her say—
"Eva, come and sleep with me in the nursery; I don't want to be alone with that poor child tonight: she might die; it's so odd that she had that fit: I wonder if she saw anything. Mrs. Yule was rather harsh."
Eva came back with her; they both went to bed; they were whispering together for half-an-hour before they fell asleep. I caught parts of their conversation, from which I was able only too distinctly to infer the main subject discussed.
"Something passed her, all dressed in white, and vanished"—"A great black dog behind him"—"Three loud raps on the chamber door"—"A light in the churchyard just over his grave."
At last both slept: the fire and the candle went out. For me, the hours of that long night passed slowly; strained by dread: such dread as children only can feel.
No severe or prolonged bodily illness followed this incident of the red-room; it only gave my nerves a shock of which I feel the reverberation to this day. Yes, Aunt Yule, I owe you some fearful pangs of mental suffering, but I should forgive you, because you didn't know what you were doing.
The next day, by noon, I was up and dressed, and sat wrapped in a sweater by the nursery. I felt physically weak and broken down: but my worse ailment was an unutterable wretchedness of mind: a wretchedness which kept bringing silent tears; no sooner had I wiped one salt drop from my cheek than another followed. Yet, I thought, I should have been happy, none of the Yules were there, they went to Paris on a shopping spree. Eva was sewing in another room, and Agatha, as she moved from one room to the other, putting away toys and arranging drawers, said a kind word every now and then. This should have made me feel at ease.
Agatha was in the kitchen, and she brought up with her a chocolate chip muffin on a brightly painted china plate. I couldn't eat it, feeling strange that such dishes were used for me, I put muffin aside. Agatha asked if I wanted to read a book: the word book acted as a stimulus, and I asked her for Gulliver's Travels from the library. I read this bok again and again with delight. Yet, when this cherished volume was now placed in my hand—when I turned over its pages, and looked in its marvelous pictures the charm I had, till now,—was eerie and dreary; the giants were gaunt goblins, the pygmies malevolent and fearful imps, Gulliver the most desolate wanderer in most horrifying and dangerous places. I closed the book, and put it on the table, beside the untouched muffin.
Agatha had now finished dusting and cleaning the room, and after washing her hands, she opened a little drawer, full of beautiful shreds of silk and satin, and began making a new dress for Jeanette's doll. Meantime she sang: her song was—
Baby, I'm so into you
You got that somethin, what can I do
Baby, you spin me around
The Earth is movin, but I can't feel the ground
I heard her singing the song before, and always with lively delight; Agatha had a sweet voice,—at least, I thought so. But now, though her voice was still sweet, I found in it a sense of longing. Sometimes, preoccupied with her work, she sang the song very low. I had guessed she liked someone. She was young, only 21.
Every time you look at me
My heart is jumpin, it's easy to see
You drive me crazy
I just cant sleep
Im so excited, I'm in too deep
Ohh...crazy, but it feels alright
Baby, thinkin of you keeps me up all night
Tell Me, you're so into me
That i'm the only one you will see
Tell me, i'm not in the blue
That i'm not wastin, my feelings on you
Every time I look at you
My heart is jumpin, what can I do
You drive me crazy
I just cant sleep
Im so excited, I'm in too deep
Ohh...crazy, but it feels alright
Baby, thinkin of you keeps me up all night
Crazy, I just can't sleep
I'm so excited, I'm in too deep
Crazy, But it feels alright
Every Day and Every Night
You drive me crazy
I just cant sleep
Im so excited, I'm in too deep
Ohh...crazy, but it feels alright
Baby, thinkin of you keeps me up all night
You Drive Me Crazy (You drive me crazy baby)
Ohh..Crazy, But It Feels Alright
Baby Thinkin of you keeps me up all night
Baby Thinkin of you keeps me up all night
"Zoe, what's wrong don't cry" Agatha said as she finished. She might as well have told to the fire, "don't burn!" but how could I not? I felt sorry for her that she was stuck here serving Aunt Yule and unable to get married. Sometime in the morning Dr. Charnock came again.
"What, already up!" said he, as he entered the nursery. "Well, nurse, how is she?"
Agatha answered that I was doing very well.
"Then she should look more cheerful. Come here, Zoe: your name is Zoe, right?"
"Yes, Zoe Barton."
"Well, I see you have been crying, Zoe Barton; can you tell me why? Are you hurt?"
"No."
"Oh! Maybe she is crying because she couldn't go out with Mrs. Yule to Paris," Agatha interrupted.
"I don't think so, she isn't the type to cry over such things."
I thought so too; and my self-esteem being wounded by the false charge, I answered promptly, "I never cried for such things in my life: I hate going going shopping with my Aunt. I cry because I am miserable."
"Zoe!" said Agatha.
The kind doctor appeared a little puzzled. I was standing in front him; he fixed his eyes on me very steadily: his eyes were small and grey. after studying me face for a moment, he said—
"What made you sick yesterday?"
"She fell," said Agatha, again putting in her word.
"Fell! that is like acting like a baby! Can't she manage to walk at her age? She must be eight or nine years old."
"I was knocked down," was the blunt explanation, jerked out of me by another pang of mortified pride; "but that did not make me sick," I added.
As he was thinking, a loud bell rang for the servants' dinner; he knew what it was. "That's for you, nurse," he said; "you can go down; I'll give Zoe a lecture till you come back."
Agatha would have stayed, but she was obliged to go, because punctuality at meals was strongly enforced at the Yule Mansion.
"The fall didn't make you sick; what was it then?" pursued Dr. Charnock when Agatha was gone.
"I was shut up in a room where there is a ghost till after dark."
I saw Dr. Charnock smile and frown at the same time.
"Ghost! Seems, you are a baby after all! You are afraid of ghosts?"
"Of Uncle Yule's ghost: he died in that room, and was laid out there. Neither Agatha or any one else will go into it at night; and it was cruel to shut me up alone without light,—so cruel that I think I shall never forget it."
"Nonsense! Is that what makes you miserable? Are you afraid of daylight too now?"
"No: but night will come again soon: and besides,—I am unhappy,—very unhappy, because of other things."
"What other things? Can you tell me some of them?"
I wanted to answer his question so much! But it was difficult for a child to form words that could describe these feelings Fearful, however, of losing this first and only opportunity of relieving my grief, I tried to form a response.
"For one thing, I have no father, mother, brothers or sisters."
"You have a kind aunt and cousins."
Again I paused; then blurted out—
"But Marc Yule knocked me down, and my aunt shut me up in the red-room."
Dr. Charnock took out a cigarette and lit it.
"Don't you think Yule Mansion a very beautiful house?" asked he. "Aren't you thankful to have such a nice place to live?"
"It's not my house; and Eva says I don't have much right to be here than a servant."
"Hih! you can't be silly enough to want to leave such a splendid place?"
"If I had anywhere else to go, I would be glad to leave it; but I can never get away from the mansion until I grow up."
"Maybe you will—who knows? Do you have any relatives besides your Aunt Yule?"
"I don't think so"
"None from your father's side?"
"I'm not sure. I asked Aunt Yule once, and she said I probably did, but she didn't know anything about them."
"If you had any, would you rather live with them?"
I thought for a moment. At first the thought of getting away from this side of the family was good. Exciting even. But on the second thought, what if they were worse that these? I don't think I could have handled it.
"No," was my reply.
"Why not?"
I shook my head: I didn't want to go into such an explanation.
"Would you like to go to school?"
Again I though: I didn't know much about school: Agatha once said that the family sent their children to private boarding schools, it as a place where young ladies sat in the classroom, wore uniforms, and were expected to be exceedingly polite and precise: Marc Yule hated his school, and abused his teacher; but Marc's tastes were no comparison for mine. She described beautiful paintings of landscapes and flowers that were painted by the girls; songs they could sing and pieces they could play. Besides, school would be a complete change: it implied a long journey, an entire separation from Yule Mansion, an entrance into a new life.
"I'd like to go to school," was the audible conclusion of my musings.
"Well! who knows what may happen?" Dr. Charnock said, as he got up. "The child should have a change of atmosphere," he added, speaking to himself; "the nerves are not in a good state."
Agatha returned; at the same moment the car was heard rolling up the gravel driveway.
"Is that your mistress, nurse?" asked Dr. Charnock. "I would like to speak to her before I go."
Agatha escorted him to the breakfast-room. In the discussion which followed between him and Aunt Yule, I presume, from after-occurrences, that the doctor wanted to recommend me being sent to school; and the recommendation was eagerly accepted. Eva said, when discussing the subject with Agatha while both sat crocheting in the nursery one night, after I was in bed, thinking I was asleep, "Mrs. Yule was extremely glad to get rid of such a tiresome, ill-mannered child, who always looked as if she were watching everybody, and scheming plots."
During that same conversation I learned, for the first time, that my father had been a businessman; that my mother had married him against the wishes of her parents; that my grandfather Yule was so irritated at her disobedience, he disowned her; that after my mother and father had been married a year, they got into a car accident while visiting a branch of their business in Paris: that my mother hung on for life, and both died within a month of each other.
Agatha sighed after hearing this and said, "Poor Zoe, I feel sorry for her Eva."
"Yes," responded Eva; "if she nice and pretty."