The Infant Spirits (Haunting Clarisse Series Book 4)

Chapter One

“Get these bloody chains off me!” Abbey tugged rigorously, trying to free herself from being tied to the hospital bed. They were thick iron and so strong that it was beyond her strength, but she kept on trying, anyway, with a fierce intensity from within.
The bed shook vigorously with each jolt as nurses watched on, unperturbed by her efforts to free herself. They had seen it all before. Except, this time, it was different—she was pregnant and on the cusp of giving birth.
“Ya know she’ll lose her baby if she keeps this up, poor soul. May the Lord have mercy on her,” Nurse Delaney said. She was the most experienced psychiatric nurse at The Ladies Cottage. The younger ones took notice of her every word, and some doctors dared not cross her.
Nurse Louise gulped and nodded in acknowledgment, doing her best to maintain her composure under the circumstances. “Is she always like this? I mean, this agitated?” She was petite and a newly graduated nurse who questioned everything, and sometimes Delaney couldn’t be bothered clarifying every point.
“Ah, Louise, I’ve known Abbey for a while, and her family, too. I thought she was making a recovery at one point until …” Delaney stopped, realizing she was about to say too much.
“Until what, Miss Delaney?” Louise wanted to know more.
“Nothing. It’s not important. Be a good nurse and help me hold her legs down before those chains rip into her ankles and cut her skin. We don’t want a bloody mess on those white sheets, do we?”
“You’re dirty rotten, Delaney, you witch.” Abbey kicked as hard as she could, but Delaney felt capable of handling her outbursts. She was more robust than Abbey, whose frail body was no match for the hard taskmaster with the nickname Haggus.
“Just ignore her language, Louise. She’ll calm down after the doctor gets here with the morphine. It will knock her out, I hope.”
“You’re a demon, Delaney. Fess up and stop hiding behind that nurse’s uniform, as if you’re the moral light of this cursed place!” Abbey lifted her head and spat toward the nurse, narrowly missing her face with the thick, yellowish mucus that stuck onto her white uniform.
Louise placed her hand over her mouth and nearly chucked. She was an inexperienced nurse, used to the private hospitals in Hobart for dignitaries and the rich. However, she’d had no option but to work at Willow Court Asylum, following her husband’s posting to nearby military barracks.
Abbey continued her rage, holding on to the belly with both hands and pressing slightly in a futile attempt to stop the pain that was ripping through her body. She was eight months pregnant and was giving birth to a pre-mature, illegitimate child. No one knew who the father was, and nobody cared. That was the way it was back then, with a woman caught destitute in an asylum and locked away from the rest of civilization. They turned a blind eye to sexual assaults by staff that was commonplace amongst the patients.
“How do you do this every day, Miss?” Louise asked.
“Ha, I was once like you—all innocent and pompous—until reality set in. Oh yes, this isn’t just any asylum; these patients are paid customers, set up by their families, hidden from view by the wealthy of the new land and godforsaken British outpost. A cursed penal colony, this is.” Delaney continued pressing on Abbey’s legs so she could avoid injury. “We’re paid well to look after them, you know … whether we like it or not.”
“I curse my family and those bastards for putting me in this wretched place,” Abbey said. She was not worried about being outspoken. It made no difference to her life that was already ruined.
“And that Irish bastard, O’Hara, that I always see you with, you bitch. He raped me in my room at night more than once, and you didn’t do a thing about it. Miss Delaney, almighty nurse … ha-ha. Does your new girl know what you’re really like? You’re a demon, you know, cursed by the devil himself.”
“Best you put your hands over your ears, my dear,” Delaney told her young protégé. “The demon has taken over her soul, and the poor child soon to be born.”
Louise did exactly as she was told and placed her hands over her ears. It looked naïve from a distance, but she did whatever Delaney asked her to do.
Abbey continued kicking and clasping her hands as she helplessly tried to remove the chains. Delaney knew it was only a matter of time until her strength ran out. It was about persistence in these circumstances.
These intense bursts of anger and energy were all part of the fabric of Abbey’s personality and why her family shunted her into this private asylum. Out of sight and out of mind, it kept the family’s reputation untarnished.
Abbey was the victim of high society and their nefarious ways of thinking. And, although she was placed in the best mental asylum in the state that money could buy, she was denied the sort of existence worthy of her family’s fortune.
“Where’s that fucking doctor you promised!” Abbey was incensed that she had not been cared for properly by Dr. Jordan.
She was not a high priority for the brash psychiatrist. The only thing that kept her from being entirely neglected was her family would regularly check in each month. And nobody on the medical staff wanted to double-cross her influential sponsors.
Dr. Jordan came running in with his pediatrics colleague, Dr. Monserrat. Between them, they blew enough cigar smoke to fill the room with the secondary tobacco mist.
“Why’s Abbey tied to the bed?” Dr. Jordan asked, looking directly at Delaney, knowing perfectly well it had been her decision to put the young woman in chains.
Delaney shuffled her hands nervously, realizing she had to explain herself. “Oh, Doctor, you know what she’s like—behaving erratically again. It’s for her own safety … and her unborn child.”
“And your safety? Or perhaps it’s something you like doing, Miss Delaney? You’ve been chaining up several patients recently. Part of a new game of yours?” Dr. Jordan didn’t care about Delaney’s influence, and he was prepared to stand up to her.
“You know she can be a difficult patient, sir, when she’s in her moods.” Delaney took the keys from her pocket and held them toward the doctor defiantly. “I suppose you want me to remove them, sir?”
He snatched the keys from Delaney in a show of contempt and walked toward Abbey. Then he placed his hands over her head, gently caressing her. “It’s all right, Abbey. I’ve got Dr. George Monserrat here to look over your child. He’s a pediatrician from the hospital; you can trust him.”
Abbey seemed to react favorably to the doctor, whereas Delaney could not—a different style and approach used to care for mental patients.
He waved toward Dr. Monserrat and asked him to come over and assess her pregnancy. He was a mild-mannered man, descendent of aristocracy, and well-regarded amongst his fraternity. And, like Dr. Jordan, a younger man with different points of view toward the care of his patients
“May I, Miss Abbey?” Dr. Monserrat placed his stethoscope on her belly as he listened to the unborn child’s heartbeat. “I’m just going to feel the position of the child now.”
Abbey remained still as tears rolled down her cheeks, a release of tension, no doubt from being tied up by Delaney and her cruel methods.