Rebecca thought the doctor sounded rather like a pamphlet but also sincere. “And may I ask what inspired this calling of yours?”
He nodded. “My father and brothers manage a large asylum near Bristol. They do good work overall and have been quite successful. I agree with the majority of my father’s practices,though not all. He has on occasion resorted to cold shower-baths, strait-waistcoats, and manacles for the most refractory patients. He also believes removing a patient from his home influence is of the utmost importance.
“At Woodlane, I have changed what I disagreed with while preserving the best of my father’s methods in a smaller, more homelike setting. For example, we have abolished all use of restraints and encourage visits and correspondence with loved ones to stave off feelings of abandonment. We promote physical and mental activity. Patients have access to my personal collection of books, and I encourage participation in regular divine services, which I find has a positive, peaceful effect. And I invite patients, in turns, to spend evenings with my family so I might observe any improper behaviors and help to check them. I want my patients to lead as active and normal a life as possible while with me, with the aim of returning them to afullynormal life as soon as reasonable.”
“Impressive. Where is Woodlane?”
“Just north of Cheltenham.”
He leaned forward and looked at her closely, speculation glimmering in his eyes. “As my good wife said, I always appreciate an attentive audience, but may I ask to what your questions tend? Is there a particular sufferer you have in mind?”
Rebecca hesitated. The newspapers often reported accounts of wrongfully issued lunacy certificates and people held against their will for minor oddities, differences in religion, or simply so a family member could gain control of someone’s finances. Would she endanger John by mentioning her concerns?
Perhaps something in her expression betrayed her whirling thoughts, for he said in fatherly tones, “You may speak to me in confidence, my dear. If it is a loved one you are concerned about, I can promise I have no intention of intruding into yourprivate affairs or forcing a certificate of lunacy into your hands. But I would like to help, if I can.”
Rebecca pressed dry lips together. “You are very kind. May I ask, are any of the people who come to your asylum ... cured? Is such a thing even possible?”
“I have seen many return to soundness of mind and to liberty. Of course, not everyone can be ‘cured,’ as you say. Some will never recover, despite our best efforts. For many who suffer from severe mental derangement, release is not the right answer, especially those who may pose a threat to themselves or others.
“And even those with more minor complaints may continue to struggle with depressions of spirit, but they can learn to ignore the vile voices in their minds that torment them with doubts, lies, and thoughts of self-harm. We encourage them to battle paralyzing fears with prayer and right thinking and a reliance on God’s strength. A wise prescription for all of us in this troubled age, I’d say.”
“Yes,” she murmured. “True.”
“I wish I could say I had a magic potion, a regimen of healthful diet, exercise, and therapeutic practices that would return all to soundness. Sadly, I cannot. But I don’t give up hope. And neither, Miss Lane, should you.”
She forced herself to meet his inquisitive gaze, then quickly looked away again.
He added, “Sir Frederick has visited Woodlane.”
“Has he?”
“Yes, as magistrate, one of his duties is to inspect asylums.”
“I did not realize.”
“So if you are not comfortable asking me more ... specific questions, you might wish to talk with him.”
“Thank you. I—”
At that moment, Sir Frederick entered the hall from the rear passage and, seeing them, walked over.
He smiled at her and said to the doctor, “Good day, Charles.”
“Ah, Frederick. I was just telling Miss Lane that you are familiar with my methods.”
His face stilled. “Because of Marina, do you mean?”
Dr. Fox’s lips parted and lines of remorse scored his brow. “No, no. I said nothing of your late wife. I only said that you have visited Woodlane several times in your role as magistrate.”
“Ah yes, the quarterly inspections.” Frederick glanced at her, then away again. “A commendable establishment.” He shifted from foot to foot. “Well. Only wanted to greet you. I will leave you to your talk.”
He bowed and walked away before either could protest.
Dr. Fox sent her a telling look.
Rebecca nodded and replied, “I will consider your advice.”
———
