Calista, Laura Rahme [best ereader for comics txt] 📗

Aaron reflected on what he knew. “To send Calista to that prison now, is unwise,” he said. “Who knows what ill treatment she might receive? It is too dangerous.”

The couple looked confused. Nectaria brought a hand to her mouth and fought back tears.

“If you send Calista away now, she would remain one year in a prison,” explained Aaron. He sighed, as though this truth burdened him. “Let me make this clear. Firstly, it is not my opinion that Calista is a lunatic. I find this difficult to believe. But to employ the term psychopath, you must know that for now, in the United States of the Ionian Islands, as in all of Greece, psychopaths and criminals are housed together in the same prison. Do you understand what this means? What if she is carrying a child?”

“She cannot stay here!” cried Nikolaos, revealing his true feelings at last. He seemed more alarmed at the thought of a bastard Albanian child than for his daughter’s safety.

Aaron seized on this. He drew on all he remembered from his encounter with the doctor in Athens. “It would be wiser,” he said, “if she were sent away only once the new British asylum opens its doors. Then she might benefit from proper hospital care and be treated with respect. In the meantime, if it turns out she is carrying a child, at least it will be born in your home, in a better place.”

A look of utter contempt drew itself on Nikolaos’ face.

“Could she not go to the new asylum, now?” pleaded Nectaria.

“I’m afraid not. It is not yet operating.” Aaron looked gravely at both parents. “It might not open until another year.”

Nectaria looked weary, conscious of the village status to which Calista had lowered her. “What will we do?” she cried.

“She cannot remain in this house,” muttered Nikolaos under his breath. He could barely face Aaron.

Aaron saw what he had suspected all along. Nikolaos would be dishonoured for as long as his soiled daughter remained under his roof. His honour would not permit the young woman to remain in the village, let alone in his home.

“Perhaps I may be of some help,” said Aaron.

That was all it had taken. Nikolaos and Nectaria had looked at him as though a great burden had been lifted off their shoulders. And if, for weeks later, Calista remained secluded inside her home, Aaron pressed on with plans for their departure.

The day came when Calista stood outside the very courtyard where Aaron had first set eyes upon her. Nectaria embraced her daughter by the gate. As for Nikolaos, he stood on the threshold of his home as though he feared Calista might run back inside.

Aaron waited near the donkeys. He noted the regret in Nectaria’s eyes. He glimpsed the weathered hands she brushed against her daughter’s face, watched her smile and whisper the last Greek words Calista would hear.

But as he looked past her, and past Calista, his attention caught onto a flurry of red and rust feathers. For the rooster paced wildly around the courtyard, fluttering its wings as though in anger. And it was not just the rooster. The courtyard had acquired a menacing atmosphere. All the animals that had gathered there seemed restless, and to Aaron it appeared the goat had never bleated as loud, nor had the cats ever emitted such high-pitched cries.

Aaron’s hand tightened around the donkey’s harness. He had a fleeting presentiment. It came as a warning, as though nature bore a secret message and he had been summoned to listen. But then Calista drew away from her mother, dispelling his doubts. She glanced at him, flowers in her hair, oblivious to how they would wilt on the long journey.

“Come,” he said, reaching out to her.

A timid smile drew itself on her lips as she welcomed her new life.

“I will take good care of you, Calista,” whispered Aaron. As he spoke, he helped her up on the saddle. His firm grip took her by surprise and he felt her tremble at the memory of her tragic ordeal. When she looked upon him again, her gaze was one of stolen innocence.

“Mr. Nightingale, you have saved me,” she whispered back.

“I will soon be your husband, Calista. Please, call me Aaron.”

He noted the blue beads around her neck and as a man of science, he felt it his duty to speak up. So he slipped a hand under the necklace.

“Where we are going, my dear, you’ll have no need for these superstitious baubles. But wear them, if you like. It changes nothing.”

Chapter 10

Saturday

MAURICE was disheartened. The journal found in Aaron’s cabinet contained only bookkeeping records.

Shannon had not overstated Aaron’s orderly streak. He had devised a register for all medications in his oriental cabinet. It allowed him to efficiently identify products on which he ran low and have these restocked as required. Each month, he would jot down the date and the number of pills left for each medical product at that time.

As thorough as it seemed, the journal told Maurice nothing of what he wished to discover. He had no choice. He would need to re-enter the cellar to retrieve the remaining documents. He would have to do this soon, then return the cellar key before Mrs. Cleary awoke. He dreaded her awakening at any moment. If the housekeeper discovered her key missing, she might question the maids, and Shannon would no doubt suspect what Madeleine had been up to in the housekeeper’s bedroom. Maurice had no wish to jeopardise Madeleine’s references.

The cellar door lay in the busy corridor nearest to the kitchen and grand staircase. The maids and the cook often circulated past. It was a huge gamble. Visiting the cellar in full daylight meant there was a high chance someone might see him. Maurice reflected