Isoline crumpled the letter up and threw it to the floor. She held her head in despair. Always an odd girl? Whatever did he mean by that? She had always been dutiful. Could he possibly still be angry with her over calling off her engagement to Cyril? The man always could hold a grudge. She also noticed that he said she could return to Thornrush if she were released instead of returning home. Did he really think she would return to the home of a woman who had her committed to an asylum in the middle of the night after a single row? A row she didn’t even understand? She never did find out why Bellamira was angry with her. And now she supposed she never would. She had been at the institution for several days and had heard nothing from her aunt. Even worse, she had heard nothing from Auberon.

Auberon.

She was more confused about him that ever before. She had severely misjudged his relationship with Bellamira. She thought he was merely a reclusive tenant that her aunt found amusing and somewhat useful. But they certainly had some sort of past relationship that Isoline had been completely blind to.

He could not have been the man who sent the old love letters or painted her portrait. It was impossible. It had to be his grandfather. But was it possible that her Auberon also had some sort of affair with Bellamira? A woman maybe sixty years his senior? She had to admit it could have happened. She had heard rumors of older widows taking young men as lovers, but never a woman of ninety! Of course, when Isoline arrived, Bellamira did not appear to be ninety, but much younger. Even now, appearing older and more frail than before, she did not show her true age. It would not be unreasonable for a woman who only appeared to be fifty should have a young paramour. It would explain why the vicar had warned her away from him, and even why Tristan had called Auberon a rake. She nearly felt sick in her stomach at the thought of Tristan possibly being right about him.

“Come now,” a nurse said, leaning into Isoline’s room. “Eat up already so I can clear this away.”

Isoline eyed her food and dreaded putting it into her mouth. It would be nearly impossible for her to starve here, she was fed so much and so often. Dr. Shore had told her that a stout body was key to a stout mind, whatever that meant. But the food was so coarse and flavorless it was like eating ash from an old fireplace.

She tore off a piece of the thick, dry bread and tried to slather some of the thick gruel on it, but she could barely chew it enough to make it go down her throat. She downed nearly a full glass of water just to get one mouthful of food to go down, but at least it was enough to satisfy the nurse.

“Good job,” the nurse said as she took the tray away. Her foot kicked the crumpled letter from Isoline’s father as she left the room. She looked down at it. “Oh, dear me. Bad news I take it?”

“My father agrees with my aunt that I need the rest,” Isoline said coldly.

“Well, you will get plenty of that here,” the nurse said as she left the room.

Isoline knew she meant well. Not all of the staff were as cruel and off-putting as Dr. Shore, but even though they worked here and saw the conditions, they seemed truly ignorant of what it was like to be a patient. Isoline had barely slept a wink since she arrived. The rooms were cold and spartan. The mattress was thin, as was her only blanket. She slept in her clothes to keep from freezing. The walls were thin, so the crying of those falsely imprisoned and the ravings of the truly insane crept into her mind constantly. Isoline feared that if she had not been mad when she arrived, she very soon would be.

“Was it good news?” a woman named Catherine asked, peeking her head into Isoline’s room. Isoline wasn’t completely sure, but she believed that Catherine was not insane, only a bit sad. She was terribly plain and had never had a serious suitor. She had no hobbies that Isoline could discern and was not particularly well educated. When her father died, instead of keeping her around as a spinster sister, her brothers had her committed. She had been diagnosed as “hysterical,” though Isoline had seen no evidence of this other than a few bouts of crying that Catherine seemed to have little control over and Isoline hardly blamed her for. She had been in this place for three years.

Isoline eyed the crumpled paper on the floor.

“Oh,” Catherine said when she saw it. “I’m sorry.”

Isoline waved her off. “It’s no matter. I knew he wouldn’t help me. It was foolish to hope he might.”

Catherine picked up the paper and tossed it into a bin. “Hope is never foolish,” she said. “Without hope, there is no reason to keep going.”

“And what do you hope for?” Isoline asked. “What keeps you from going completely mad in this place?”

“I’ve started writing,” Catherine said a little sheepishly. “I was writing stories, but Dr. Shore would take them from me. He said they were evidence of my madness. I think he was sending them to my brothers as proof I needed to stay here. So I switched to short poems, and I’ve been hiding them in my mattress.”

Isoline nodded sympathetically. She had a feeling that many of the “talking treatments” the doctor employed were not meant to help the inmates, but to only reinforce their beliefs that the committed should stay committed. Dr. Shore had repeatedly asked her about her dreams, but she had refused to tell him anything, knowing that anything she said would be reported back to her family.

Isoline leaned over and took Catherine’s hand. “If I ever get out of here, I’ll take your poems with me and have them published. People need to know the terrible treatment that goes on in this supposed place of healing.”

“So you still have hope that you’ll get out of here?” Catherine asked, surprised. “You aren’t the first girl who was sent here to get her out of the way of an inheritance.”

“Is that really why you think I’m here?” Isoline asked.

“Rich old dame like that,” Catherine said, referring to Bellamira. “Probably has more people after that inheritance than you think.”

A light seemed to go off in Isoline’s head. “Tristan was at the house the night before I was taken away!” she exclaimed. “I had nearly forgotten about it. I thought he had shown up to apologize for…for attacking me. But what if he told my aunt she could easily be rid of me by having me declared insane?”

“Makes perfect sense to me,” Catherine said. “My father left me money in his will. He knew I’d never marry, so he wanted to make sure I was taken care of and not a burden to my brothers. Well, guess where my money went as soon as I was locked up here.”

“Oh, Catherine,” Isoline said, shaking her head. “I’m so sorry.”

“I’d have given them the whole lot of it willingly if it would have kept me out of this place.” At that, Catherine devolved into a crying fit that she seemed unable to stop. Isoline held her friend for a long time, rocking her. She made a promise to herself, but she did not utter it out loud for fear of giving Catherine false hope. She vowed that if she ever did get out of this place, that she would devote her life to helping women who had been institutionalized.

Finally, after exhausting herself, Catherine calmed enough for Isoline to lead her back to her room. One of the nurses saw them and followed them into the room.

“What happened?” the nurse asked as she checked Catherine’s pulse.

“She was just missing home,” Isoline said. “As we all often do.”

“Aye,” the nurse said. “But no sense working yourselves up over it. It only gets your humors out of sorts.”

“Have you ever been separated from your family or home against your will with no hope of ever returning?” Isoline asked in annoyance.

“Of course not,” the nurse said.

“Then what do you know of it?” Isoline said more than asked.

“Get back to your room and calm down,” the nurse ordered as she pulled a syringe out of her pocket and removed the cap.

“What is that?” Isoline asked in alarm. “What are you doing?”

The nurse inserted the needle into Catherine’s arm, and within a moment, Catherine’s eyes fluttered shut and she was unconscious.

“Catherine?” Isoline asked, going to her friend’s side and shaking her. “What’s wrong? What did you do?”

“Just a little something to help her sleep,” the nurse said. “Nothing to concern yourself over.”

“Something to help her sleep?” Isoline repeated.

The nurse nodded. “She’s fine. She’ll wake up in a few hours, well rested and her mind much calmer than it is now.”

At that, Isoline rounded on the nurse, an idea coming to her. “How dare you!” she screamed as she grabbed the nurse’s arms. “You’re hurting her! You monster!”

The nurse stumbled back into the hallway. “Help! She’s out of control!” she screamed.

“I’m not out of control!” Isoline yelled. “This whole place is out of control!” Then she started crying. “How could they? What is happening to me?”

She saw two men in white uniforms running toward her, and one had a syringe in his hand. She did her best to hide a smile as she continued screaming and crying.

She had been unable to sleep since she had arrived. Even though the man in her dreams had not come to her since their night of passion together, she had to believe that he would come to her in her time of need.

All will be well, he had promised her. She had never known him to go back on his word.

Isoline gasped in pain as the man inserted the needle into her arm, but she felt a warm calmness spread through her with each thump of her heart. She felt dizzy and her legs collapsed beneath her. She felt one of the men pick her up, but then the world went black.

A moment later, she was in her room back at Thornrush Manor. She sat up and grabbed her robe. As she stood, she felt the familiar sensation of wet grass under her feet. She nearly wept for joy. It had worked! And he was here with her. She could sense him.

“Hello?” she called out as she turned around, looking for him. “I know you are here. I can feel you.”

Isoline…

She sighed in relief. “Yes! Yes! I’m here! I need you. Please, show yourself.”

She felt his breath on the back of her neck. She turned to face him.

“Auberon!” she exclaimed. She had not expected to see anyone when she looked at him. He had never made himself known to her before, no matter how she had struggled to see his face. But she never would have believed that the man in her dreams was Auberon if she had not seen him with her own eyes just now.

“Yes, Isoline,” he said. “It is me.”

“All…all this time?” Isoline asked. “All these years? It has always been you?”

“Yes,” he admitted, reaching out and touching her cheek. “The moment I saw your portrait, the one you sent to your aunt all those years ago, I loved you and reached out to you.”

“I…I don’t understand,” Isoline said. “Why did you never show me your face before? Why did you not tell me when we met in person?”

“I was afraid you would not believe me,” he said. “I couldn’t fully manifest in your dreams when you were living at home because you were so far away. Then when I met you in person, it was like my own dream coming true and I was afraid of waking up.”

Isoline searched her heart and knew that what he spoke was truth. It was him. She had the same feelings toward the man in her dreams that she did with Auberon. That was why the man in her dreams did not object to her love of Auberon the way he did of her relationship with Cyril.

“But…how?” Isoline asked. “How is this possible? What…magic is this?”

“I am not what you think,” he said. “I am not like other men.”

Isoline scoffed a laugh. “That is a true understatement.”

“But please never doubt my love for you, Isoline,” he said, grabbing her arms and pulling her toward him. He ran his fingers through her hair and looked deep into her eyes.

“Then why did you abandon me?” she asked.

He loosened his grip and shook his head. “I am so ashamed of my actions,” he said. “I will never forget the look on your face when they took you away. It haunts me.”

“Then help me now,” she said, stomping her foot. “Get me out of this place!”

“Bellamira,” he mumbled, shaking his head and turning his face away. “She…she is still angry…”

“Forget Aunt Bellamira!” Isoline snapped. “If you love me, you will help me!”

“It is complicated, Isoline,” he said, letting her go.

“Do…do you love her?” Isoline asked, her brow knitted in confusion.

“I did,” he admitted. “At one time.”

“Then why are you letting her control you?” Isoline asked. “What is happening? Who are you? What are you?”

Auberon pulled her to him again. “I will do whatever it takes to fix this,” he said. “I don’t know how, but I will not abandon you forever.”

At that, she felt him slipping away from her. “Auberon?” she called, but the sun was rising. “Auberon! Don’t leave me!” In the morning light, he faded from view.

Isoline opened her eyes and she was back in her room at the institution.