Free The Dark Between by Sonia Gensler Page B

as he drew near, however, Miss Atherton collided with a tall young gentleman. Asher’s heart quickened as she crumpled against the man. Another seizure? The bottle felt heavy in his pocket. If he offered assistance, she would know that he’d followed her all the way from Cambridge. She would think him strange. Certainly she would be offended. And yet—
    She was in agony. Asher clenched his fists as her body trembled and her eyes rolled back. The young man had eased her to the ground, and while many had left the room in undisguised dismay, a few had circled to offer words of encouragement. How strange would it seem for him to step forward and pour medicine into the girl’s mouth?
    Damn his pride! He couldn’t hold his vanity dearer than Elsie’s health.
    He pulled the bottle from his pocket, but as he joined the circle surrounding the young man and the girl, Elsie’s convulsions ceased. For a moment, all was quiet.
    Then her eyes opened. Her expression was strange—her eyes vacant and icy blue. She shivered and moaned, but her eyes remained open. The intensity of her gaze made Asher think she looked at something, or someone —yet her eyes were fixed on the ceiling. Then her moaning ceased, and to him she seemed to be listening.
    The man patted her cheek. “Miss, are you feeling better?”
    Elsie did not answer, nor did she blink.
    Asher was certain the medicine would not help her now. She was breathing normally, no longer convulsing. Yet somehow she was not entirely conscious.
    Another young man gathered his folded easel and backed away. As he brushed past, he kept his eyes on the floor. Asher curled his lip at the man’s long hair, his lack of a proper jacket. An artist . No doubt he was rushing off to sketch Elsie for some hideous scene of a writhing mystic.
    Elsie sat up with a harsh gasp. One lady squealed in alarm. Asher watched, his body frozen, as Elsie’s eyes fixed upon the gentleman who held her. She clutched the man’s arm so tightly her knuckles whitened.
    “She’s with you … always watching,” she gasped to him. “She is so very sad. She begs you to know how sorry she is.”
    Her words—intimate and thick with yearning—made Asher feel slightly sick, as though he were spying. The dreamy, detached Elsie was gone, and in her place was something mystical and rather frightening—a Grecian oracle offering a divine message.
    The recipient of this message opened his mouth but seemed unable to speak.
    All around the onlookers whispered.
    Finally, Asher stepped forward to kneel by Elsie. He dropped the parasol and reached for her hand, gently prying it from the man’s arm.
    “Elsie?”
    She turned. Her eyes widened in recognition before they filled with tears. “Oh, Asher.”
    The young gentleman cleared his throat. “Do you know this lady?”
    “I do,” Asher replied, not taking his eyes from Elsie’s face. He squeezed her hand. “Do you feel well enough to stand? Should I get you some water?”
    Elsie shook her head, prompting a tear to spill down her cheek.
    Asher turned back to the gentleman. “You may rely on me to see her home safely.”
    The young man searched his face, his grey eyes thoughtful. “May I know your name?”
    “I am Asher Beale … of Boston.”
    “Beale?” His eyes brightened. “Are you … could you possibly be a relation of Harold Beale?”
    Asher flinched. “I am his son.”
    “What good fortune! I’ve met your father and have followed his work with great interest.” He pulled a watch from his pocket and frowned at it. “I am late for a meeting, but I’m certain I can trust this young lady to the care of Harold Beale’s son.”
    Asher nodded, then turned back to Elsie. She stared as the young gentleman rose to his feet and attempted to brush the creases from his trousers. Her eyes were wide and more deeply blue than he’d remembered.
    The gentleman gave Elsie a last lingering look before turning to go. With his departure the crowd broke up, the