Jekyll Island: A Paranormal Mystery (Taryn's Camera Book 5) (28 page)

William and I are to marry in ten days. Tonight, as he called on me, he had grave news to share. William informed us tonight that he has a child, a daughter, not more than an infant. My father was astounded and angry. After many attempts to quiet him, my father was finally subdued enough to let William explain. The child’s mother, Kivalina, was an immigrant. Her father had been his client. Upon falling in love with one another, they married not four months after meeting. Kivalina perished in childbirth and her father passed not three days later from heart sickness. William firmly believes it was brought on by his daughter’s sudden departure. William’s daughter, Lydia, was not even one week old. Distraught, William himself went into a deep melancholia. He feared for his new child and felt unable to provide for her as a father should. He shed tears in front of us as he told us of how he sent his baby Lydia to live with distant cousins and how he’s been providing for her financially for the past three years.

Naturally, upon hearing this news, we were shocked and saddened. Even Father, however, couldn’t deny that William had behaved in a most honorable way. He is allowing our marriage to continue since it is perfectly respectable to marry a widower. William assured me that it was his meeting me that helped bring him out of his melancholia. I do hope that one day I can provide him with another family.

Tonight William learned the horrible truth about me. Though we haven’t been married for even a month yet, and only just arrived home to New York from our trip abroad, I fear that he may have regrets.

My terrible fear of the dark is unbearable. When William darkened our bedroom before I was ready I screamed in terror, crying into my pillow and thrashing about until he was forced to pick me up and carry me from the room like a child. He sent for the doctor immediately and I was administered a tonic that mercifully sent me into a deep sleep.

I am ashamed to face my beloved husband this morning, ashamed to tell him the awful truth–that I am nothing more than a frightened child when it’s dark and I am unable to see.

I am quite weary, having been unable to sleep for three nights. I’ve complained of headaches and other ailments when darkness falls and William has allowed me to stay up in our parlor, reading quietly with the fire going. He claims he is lonely for me at night and I miss him. I just cannot possibly return to that horrible room with all its darkness. The fire is not enough in there. I must have every corner illuminated. I don’t know how to tell him this. He has been simply wonderful, ensuring that Cook brings me broths and pillows for my back and head. I must sleep eventually, however. I cannot stay awake forever.

I slept for some time this mid-afternoon. It is not so terrible in our bedroom when it is daylight outside. As the sun pours in and lights up my bed and the floors I find myself sinking into a wonderful sleep, free from dreams. Then the sky darkens and I am frightened again and wake up. I hurry down the stairs to the parlor where I am able to sit in a cheerful setting, free from shadows.

I am so very weary. I will have to face our bed again soon. William is afraid he has done something wrong. If only I had someone to talk to, but I haven’t yet made any social acquaintances here in the city.

At last I broke down in tears and told William about my horrible secret. He was aghast at my story, of how as a child my nanny would lock me in my tiny wardrobe for hours, hardened to my cries and pleas. He held me in his arms and rocked me back and forth as a child as I admitted with shame the water that had passed from me in fear and I’d soiled myself. How I’d had to clean it up myself with the hem of my nightgown.

“Did your father not move to save you from this travesty of injustice?” he bellowed, his face red with anger.

I told him of how I’d try to talk to Father, but he’d been busy. My mother had passed away when I was a young child. There was nobody to save me, nobody to unlock the door and let me out. I’d often spend entire nights locked in the tiny room, with the shadows and monsters clawing at me and whispering in my ears. I’d once fainted from the fear and had woken up to Nanny throwing water in my face, screaming at me.

He now understands why I fear the darkness.

“Good God woman,” he cried. “I swear on my life I will never let you see another dark room as long as I live.”

That night he brought dozens of candles and oil lamps to our room. He placed them in all the corners and lit them, one by one. He left instructions with my maid to ensure they never went out, not until daylight broke, and the room was once again lit by the sun.

I slept soundly then, safer than I’ve ever felt.

William and I have been invited to a beautiful club and hotel on the sea. We leave soon and I couldn’t be more excited. My maid is a flurry with activity, packing our trunks and suitcases and running around like a mad woman, gathering the things we will need.

William ensured that I would have all my candles and lanterns and that he, himself, would see to their activity.

I’d hoped that I would be able to share the happy news of a child by now, but it seems that the news is not mine to give. Last night I spoke to William about Lydia, about inviting her into our home. He thought it was a grand idea and said he’d speak to her caregivers soon. Oh! To hear little feet in our rooms. I have been incredibly lonely, although William does his best to entertain me. We went on a picnic in the park on the first warm day and then on a ride through the woods on our horses. I miss my father with dreadful sadness, but his death was not a shock. He’d been careless for years and I’d often warned him about his expeditions. William feels terrible about the accident.  He and Father had become like father and son, especially since William’s own family has perished.

Our journey to the seaside was magical. William had a wonderful time hunting with the other men and socializing in the evenings. Everything about the Jekyll Island Club was magnificent, from the parties and glorious displays of food to the beautiful beaches and charming ladies. I made several friends, including Georgiana Lewis whose father owns a stately cottage there. Georgiana is the only other person in the entire world who knows my secret and she even brought me over one of her own lanterns, an elegant piece that let out copious amounts of light. Georgiana’s father welcomed William as well and he spent many evenings there, socializing with the men while the other ladies and I played games and gossiped.

I so want to return.

We had hoped to return to Jekyll Island this season but I’ve had a struggle, and it has delayed our journey. I did conceive a child in the springtime but carried him for only three months. We’ve suffered a terrible loss and I’ve been overcome with melancholia and have taken to my bed for more than a month. In sickness, my dreadful fear has worsened. The nightmares are even more awful than normal and I find that I am in need of more lights. It is difficult for William to sleep in the bed with me, with the room so bright. He has taken to lying with me until I drift off to sleep and then he leaves for the guest bedroom. I feel as though my fears and troubles have driven my own husband away and for this I am ashamed.

I do hope to get better soon. We had planned on Lydia coming to visit us in the autumn and the idea of her sunshine and light is what keeps me hopeful.

I am glad to see a new year approaching. My ailments have worsened, and we were not able to host little Lydia in the fall. Although I am able to move out of bed, it is difficult for me to dress and see to my toilet. My maid must do far more than she should and, of course, William helps as well. The melancholia will not lift and I fear it will pull me under. The horrible, horrible dreams will not leave me. I often wake up, even with the room illuminated, clawing at the air and crying out to be saved.

We did receive an invitation to Jekyll Island. Georgiana has invited us to a New Year’s Eve ball there. I do not feel well enough to travel so far by train but am aching to see her and I know William wants to go. I have decided to make the journey at whatever cost. My husband deserves it and it will be nice to be around friendly faces again. Perhaps the sea air and scenery is just what I need.

We’ve been on the island for five days. Today is Christmas Day and it’s been a wonderful day, full of joy and friends and music. My spirits are lifted, and I can feel myself starting to feel normal again. I think this island is saving me.

We did have a moment of trouble when we first arrived because even with Georgiana’s lantern and my candles the room was terribly dark. The lantern went out in the darkness before dawn and we couldn’t ascertain why. I woke up in fear again, screaming, and the doctor had to be summoned. William ensured that we were moved to a brighter room, however, and there hasn’t been any trouble since.

I am determined to be happy and content on this trip and to ensure that my husband is as well. Perhaps this is the time we shall conceive again, God willing.

In only two weeks we will be home again. I do so wish we could remain here. I am ever so much happier here on the island than I am in New York. I do believe I have even put on some extra weight, although I can’t get my hopes up and think it might be due to a child. I couldn’t bear to face that disappointment again.

The only thing that has mired this visit has been Georgiana. I’d hoped to spend more time with her and visit like we did on our last trip. She’d been ill or busy, however, and has had little time for me. I imagine I am not the most interesting of guests here at the Club but she was so lovely to us on our last visit. I am trying not to take it personally and let it hurt my feelings.

She was so gracious when she brought the lantern to me, although it hasn’t worked as well as I’d hoped. William had to visit the mainland and purchase more candles for the room. I know it must have frustrated him since he spend almost an entire day getting there, finding them, and returning but he didn’t once complain.

Still, the New Years’s ball is in just a few nights and I am near giddy with the excitement. The Clubhouse is all aflutter with activity and everything looks so festive. This has, by far, been the best Christmas I have ever seen.

Rachel hadn’t written any other entries. Taryn looked up and closed her eyes, feeling like she’d been punched in the stomach. As someone with a fear of the dark herself, she felt Rachel’s pain. What a terrible thing to suffer through as a child. These days Rachel might have benefited from a good counselor, or at least some good sleeping or anxiety pills. Who knew what they were giving her back then, what “tonic”, to knock her out?

Of course, Rachel had no idea that her last entry would, in fact, be the last. She’d died just a few days later.

Although Rachel’s handwriting stopped, the diary itself did not. There was more.

Taryn read on with curiosity.

William was hanged today. I did not go, although many others did. I couldn’t bear to see his body be carried away. It is difficult to believe he’s gone. A light has gone out in this world, and it will never be the same again. There will never be another man such as he.

I am writing this now before I forget everything that happened. I swore to William on my soul that I wouldn’t let anyone see Rachel’s diary. She’d been dreadfully ashamed of her illness and phobias and he’d sworn to protect her. He was also protecting his daughter, little Lydia. Last night when I made my last visit to the jail he gave the diary to me and I promised to protect it and keep it a secret, along with the other events that have transpired.

It was the very least I could do, considering it is my fault that Rachel died.

There is more that I want to share. William has suffered a great injustice and has done it silently, to protect those he loves.

He was
not
in the hotel when the fire began. I know this because he was with me.

It is no secret that I was very fond of him. I grew to be quite fond of Rachel, but William is the one I loved and will always love. I’ve carried the feeling for more than a year, feeling the fire inside grow stronger and stronger with each passing day. To simply see him on the lawn, to brush against him in a room, to hear his laughter echoing through the walls…my body burned at the very thought of him. It was almost more than I could take.

In another life I would’ve been his wife. I should have been his wife. The injustice of it makes me want to sob.