She knocked, then a man swung wide the heavy doors to admit us. It was cold and still inside, without benefit of hearth or fire. Even though the day outside was pleasant and warm, the place was a wintering old soul inside, glowing with garish lights that dulled the senses in an eerie way. Yet I did not feel afraid. “You have gas lighting here.”

She brightened for a moment. “Bit of a surprise, out here in the country, I suppose. It does help to have the place always lighted, never running out of candles.”

“It certainly changes the whole look of it. You see everything differently.” I took in its vastness. The lit portions were seen more clearly, the dark corners more obscured.

“It’s a helpful little boon in our line of work. There are some things it’s best the patients don’t see. Some shadows best left dark. And we can dim the whole place at once, when we need to, with the turn of a valve. Softens the harshest edges, don’t you know.”

I shivered, wondering what occurred when the gas was dimmed.

I removed my hat and ran fingers over my hair, taking in the staircases that twisted to unseen heights, the recessed arches and neat stacks of old books. I should be terrified, but somehow the monstrous old place invited me deeper, arousing my curiosity, boasting deep violet shadows plump with secrets they were willing to offer anyone bold enough to explore them.

“You say you’re from Manchester, miss? You look hearty enough. The superintendent’ll be right glad to have you. There’s too many of them, and not enough of us.” The woman’s voice echoed in the large entry space barely warmed with rugs over stone floors and narrow shafts of natural light slanting down from high windows. “You’ll want to put up your coat and hat, then I’ll show you about. Hopefully it don’t scare you off.”

It was a place of closed doors, locks and bars, countless rooms of so many forgotten things. And I’d never wished to explore a place more. “I’m quite determined to take this position.” I had just as much confidence in my remaining as I had when I’d told Richard I’d never come here.

I clasped my bag and took in the echoes, erratic screeches, and moans that bounced off the walls so one had no idea from which direction they came. I shifted in the scratchy wool suit I’d bought from the rag-and-bone man and caught sight of a handful of patients clustered together as they hurried up the stairs with two aids. “They look so hungry. So . . . pitiful.”