“I heard music playing. It was here. At night. I believe she did it.” The sleep-laced words tumbled out of my mouth. I was on edge—slightly desperate. “She wants to scare me, I think. To punish me. You cannot let her do this—I need to sleep. Need—”

The woman slowed, eyeing me with caution. “Is that so?” She flipped out a towel and laid it by the washbasin, then stood watching me, hands on her hips. “Come down when you’re able, and we’ll see what we can do about finding you a little rest later.”

I slogged down toward breakfast by sheer force of will, did what I was told, then moved into the day. A little strength returned to my body the longer I stayed in motion. A hastily downed bowl of gruel helped, then I went through the motions. Kitchen, laundry, dayroom.

It wasn’t until after dinner had been served and the sun went down that the dizziness hit again, and that’s when it struck me—perhaps I should be one of those aids who quit. So many did. In my haze, I couldn’t remember what had possessed me to return after my half day.

The position at Hurstwell was quickly becoming more work than it was worth. Mysteries be hanged. I could find another position too, just for the summer, and set a different solicitor on the matter of the disappeared ward. Yes, I could go home to my own bed and be done with this place and all its gaslight and ghosts.

It was like whiplash for the senses, this lack of sleep, and after three nights of it I craved a bed and quiet. Yes, it was time to leave this place of leaping shadows and constant intensity. I only had to make it down the lane, and . . . what? How did I find a conveyance out in the forgotten woods this late at night?

I wound my way to the kitchen, where steam and yells filled the air, and staff hurried about making giant kettles of tea to accompany the medicine that would keep the most erratic patients asleep for another night. How wretched it all seemed now. I approached Branson, who was making up trays. I untied my apron and met her gaze. “I’m afraid I must—”

“Yes, I know. Here, help get these out, then we’ll see about the arrangements. It’s been a wretched day.”

I blinked. Staff truly must leave every day. She seemed to take it all in stride. I pushed through the tedium of carrying armloads of trays up to the dayroom as patients filed in, making their way toward the benches.

Bridget touched my arm as she passed. “You’re well?” Her frown told me she didn’t think so.