Don't Lock Me Away

By Bethany Brook

‘Louisa awoke to the sound of laughter and, as she slowly surfaced from her drug-induced sleep, realisation dawned. Icy fingers of terror seized her in their grip; she had been brought to St Christina’s House, known locally as the lunatic asylum. Distant footsteps sounded again. They came closer, Louisa’s terror mounting with each passing second. They came to a stop outside the door, and a key turned in the lock.’
Born into a privileged English family in 1905, Louisa’s world is turned upside down when she falls in love with Edward, the gardener’s son, and they plan for a life together in Australia. But with their secret discovered by her parents, and her refusal to give him up, Louisa finds herself locked away, first in St Mary’s, a penitentiary for ‘fallen’ or morally endangered women and then in St Christina’s. Will she ever escape, and will she ever see Edward again?
Penitentiaries were institutions in which women were incarcerated by their families or the state and made to atone for their ‘sins’. Run by nuns, they were forced to enter into a relentless cycle of prayer and work, and with virtually no hope of release. Some of these institutions survived until the 1950s.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Bethany Brook
• Release date: Apr 17, 2013
• ISBN: 9781301958023

Bethany Brook

Bethany Brook was born in the Home Counties, England and during her working life has worked as a nanny/au pair, as an auxiliary nurse for the mentally ill and as a civil servant. She has written books on social history in her locality, and currently undertakes commissions in historical research. Bethany has two degrees; one in English literature, history and sociology, and the other in the sociology of religion. She lives with her husband and dog and enjoys walking in the countryside in her spare time.

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Don’t Lock Me Away

Bethany Brook

Don’t Lock Me Away

Bethany Brook

Smashwords Edition

© 2013 Bethany Brook

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Table of Contents

Prologue

Chapter One

Chapter Two

Chapter Three

Chapter Four

Chapter Five

Chapter Six

Chapter Seven

Chapter Eight

Chapter Nine

Chapter Ten

Chapter Eleven

Chapter Twelve

Chapter Thirteen

Chapter Fourteen

Chapter Fifteen

Chapter Sixteen

Chapter Seventeen

Chapter Eighteen

Chapter Nineteen

Prologue

Louisa awoke to the sound of laughter. It had an unnerving quality to it and, as she slowly awoke from her drug-induced sleep, realisation dawned. Icy fingers of terror seized her in their grip; she had been brought to St Christina’s House, known locally as the lunatic asylum.

She felt sore all over, and there was matted blood in her hair which was sticking to her forehead. Trying to shift position in order to sit up, she found her arms would not move. Memories came flooding back – she was in a straight-jacket and her sleeved arms and hands were crossed in front of her and secured with ties behind her back.

Louisa lay there with a pounding heart, listening to the laughter. The clanging sound of a metal door being opened and closed was followed by voices, and the laughter changed to shouting. Footsteps and voices faded and then there was a distant banging of another door and the sound of a key being turned. Silence.

Lying on her side, Louisa found she was facing into a small room, dimly lit by an electric light bulb fixed to a high ceiling. Through the gloom she could see a door and three of the walls, all of which were padded and covered in what had once been white fabric. Stains, the nature of which she tried not to dwell on too much, were much in evidence. The floor upon which she lay was hard, and there was no furniture. Louisa’s feet were free to move, and she tentatively put out a foot to feel for a wall behind her. It touched more padding.

Will I be in this place for the rest of my life? Louisa thought. How could my life have come to this? Her head was throbbing and her stomach was churning with dread. Terrible stories had been told of St Christina’s and here she was, locked up within its walls. And all for loving the wrong man.

Distant footsteps sounded again. They came closer, Louisa’s terror mounting with each passing second. They came to a stop outside the door, and a key turned in the lock.

Chapter One

At the age of 23, Lavinia Hardcastle was beginning to feel desperate. She didn’t have that many girl friends, but those she did were either married or about to become so. Their excited chatter about trousseaus and wedding finery or about babies and running households was beginning to chip away at her self confidence and also at her determination to marry for love.

Lavinia, a pretty dark haired girl with striking eyes, was a romantic at heart. This had been fuelled by reading what her mother would have considered unsuitable novels, surreptitiously lent to her by a friend whose brother, unbeknown to his parents, moved in undesirable circles when he should have been furthering a more academic education. These books were hidden under her mattress, to be brought out after she had gone to bed and her maid had departed. Lighting a candle, she read avidly of idealised love and passion, the stirrings in her own body making her hopeful of pleasures to come.

Highfield Hall, Lavinia’s home in the rolling countryside of Wiltshire, was a modest estate of some standing in the county. She was an only child and, as such, had been pampered by her doting parents. The result was a dreamy girl who liked to be surrounded by nice things largely of her own choosing, and who gave little thought to the outside world and how others might live. People from a lower class were there to serve her and her family and, although she had been brought up to be courteous to them, she viewed the household servants as merely there to serve her and her parents. That emotions and basic human needs were common to them all did not enter her mind.

Lavinia knew she was expected to marry well and retain a place in society, but she resisted marrying purely for status and wealth. She had read too much romantic fiction, and therefore was set upon falling deeply in love with a handsome man who would sweep her off her feet and into an idyllic life in a large country mansion with a large household over which she would preside. The reality was rather different. No young man matched up to her romantic ideal and love remained elusive. From the age of 17 years, prospective suitors were paraded in front of her, but they were not good looking enough, not tall enough, or their houses were not big enough.

And so the years passed, and Lavinia began to suspect she would be left on the shelf, the unmarried daughter consigned to a life of spinsterhood, parental control and charitable works. This suspicion was echoed in the thoughts of her parents who wanted her off their hands and into those of another. Grandchildren were also anticipated, an anticipation of which Lavinia was all too aware. She did want children, and seeing her married friends with their babies and toddlers only served to reinforce this.

Charles Davenport, the second son of Lord and Lady Davenport of Worthington Manor in Buckinghamshire, had risen to great heights in the financial world. Not only was he from a wealthy family, but he had made his own fortune in stocks and shares. As a young man with a good education behind him, he became single-minded in his quest to make his own way in the world and be financially self-sufficient. Upon their father’s death, his brother James and his wife Anne would become Lord and Lady Davenport and inherit the family estate and its accompanying wealth. Although an inheritance would be settled upon Charles’s head, this would hardly be enough to keep him in the manner to which he had grown accustomed while at home.

Life never goes according to plan. As Charles was adding to his fortune and accumulating wealth, James was enjoying a life of hunting, socialising and, to the shame and humiliation of his wife, womanising. Out with the hunt one day, he jumped a hedge, came off his mount and broke his neck. Death was instantaneous as was Charles’s right to inherit all that had been destined for his brother.

A childless widow, and with both her own parents dead, Anne had remained at Worthington Manor with her parents-in-law. Fortuitously, James had provided for her in his will and she had sufficient private means not to become dependent on her in-laws, of whom she was very fond. The feeling was mutual and she was viewed as the daughter they never had.

Working and living in the city of London, Charles had become aware of lives more grim than he could ever have imagined. Prostitution, illegitimacy and beggars vexed him greatly and, spurred on by an evangelical Christian zeal with which he had become increasingly obsessed, he saw these aspects of life as the work of the Devil. If one truly believed in God and submitted oneself to his will and his word, as laid down in the Bible, one would not find oneself in these circumstances. Should such a predicament arise, all one had to do was repent, confess one’s sins, and God would do the rest. There was certainly no excuse for immorality and illegitimacy, and God would provide work for those who truly believed in what the church dictated. Wouldn’t he?

On finding himself an heir-in-waiting, Charles had felt obliged to return to Worthington Manor and learn the ropes of running the estate. Here he was subjected to heavy hints from his parents about providing an heir of his own. Matrimony had not been high of his list of priorities in life and, at the age of 29 he had felt there was no immediate hurry. He was also less concerned about handing on the family title, for surely it could go sideways to his cousin Henry Davenport and his branch of the family instead?

Charles and Lavinia’s paths were destined to cross. Both the Hardcastles and Charles had been invited to stay for a weekend at Nutcombe, a country house of mutual friends in Hampshire. Lavinia’s parents, knowing the Davenports to be a highly desirable family for any young woman to marry into, took a more than usual passing interest in Charles when they met at dinner on the evening of their arrival. Charles, it had to be said, was not especially good looking. He had mousy coloured hair, a predominant nose and small eyes. He was of average height and slim build, and did not lend himself to Lavinia’s idea of the perfect husband. Approaching 24, and knowing she was to meet a wealthy bachelor, she had pinned her hopes on being bowled over by him. Her disappointment was acute.

Charles, however, was smitten at first sight. He was rather surprised at himself for feeling that way, but he could not prevent his eyes constantly wandering towards Lavinia, admiring her delicate features, pale complexion and mass of dark hair piled up in a becoming style. Both hosts and her parents contrived to throw the two house guests together, and so it was that Lavinia resigned herself to responding to Charles’s overtures of admiration. The exercising of good manners had been a part of her upbringing and, in engaging in required conversation with Charles, she found him to be rather good company. He, in turn, found her coquettishness and frivolous remarks rather endearing, and started to imagine a life at Worthington Manor with Lavinia at his side, a pliable and dutiful wife.

Throughout a weekend of hunting, country walks, and fine dining, Charles continued to woo Lavinia, and Lavinia continued to try and find in him the man she desired. By the time of departure to their respective homes, Charles, at the invitation of Lavinia’s parents, had arranged to visit Highfield Hall the following month and pay court to her. The intervening three weeks were spent by Lavinia convincing herself that Charles was the man for her. After all, he was kind, and had a certain wit. He was rather too God-fearing for her liking, but he was wealthy enough to keep her provided with anything she could possibly desire. If she could not have a handsome husband, she would find compensation in spending a less attractive one’s money.

In the eyes of Lavinia’s parents, the visit was a success. When Charles was out of earshot, they constantly enthused about his virtues in front of Lavinia who, having thought herself into a state of suggestibility, readily agreed with all their observations.

At the close of Charles’s third visit to Highfield Hall, he proposed marriage to Lavinia who, feeling the weight of parental pressure and her owns concerns surrounding a permanent state of spinsterhood, accepted.

Shortly after King Edward IIV’s ascension to the throne in 1901, Lavinia Hardcastle and Charles Davenport became man and wife. The wedding itself was everything Lavinia had dreamed of as her parents had spared no expense in giving her a good send off. The magnificent wedding breakfast awaited their return from church, laid out in one of Highfield Hall’s grand reception rooms, and toasts were made to the happy couple.

The day by far surpassed Lavinia’s expectations of a romantic wedding day, which was balanced somewhat by her disappointment on her wedding night, spent at the Devonshire country home of one of Charles’s friends who was abroad. Far from the passion she had anticipated, Charles turned out to be a rather dull and, for a new bride, inconsiderate lover and, duty done, he rolled off her and promptly went to sleep.

On their return to Worthington Manor, Lavinia settled into her role as Charles’s wife, learning from his mother how to ensure the smooth running of the household and its servants, holding tea parties for her friends and looking forward to the state of motherhood. Her wifely duty, as she had come to regard the matter of the bedroom, was a necessary end to achieving this state, and one into which she entered with resignation. Within 12 months, changes in her body heralded her suspicion that she might be with child, and this was confirmed by the family doctor, much to Charles’s delight, and that of both sets of parents. Seven months later, she gave birth to a son, named James after Charles’s late brother and, three years after that, her final child, a daughter named Louisa was born.

Chapter Two

Having once been indifferent to the state of parenthood, Charles now found himself immensely proud to be a father to his son, James. The family line through him was secure, and he spared no expense in providing James with a good education and a firm Christian upbringing.

The Christian bit had been a bone of contention with Charles’s parents. They were mainstream Church of England, attended Worthington parish church every Sunday and had their own Davenport pew. The services were as staid as the rector, the Revd Hugh Gregory, who was pious in the extreme and managed to evoke a deep sense of boredom in his congregation during Sunday services. There was no joy or spontaneity in his form of worship. Hymns were taken at a dirge and lasted forever, the hearts of the congregation sinking at the start of the longer versed ones. The Creed and prayers were recited slowly, and communion was performed at a snail’s pace. Sermons were always laced with overtones of God’s disappointment if one should fail to exercise Christian duty towards fellow men and women. The vacating of the church after a service was done with an almost unseemly haste.

As a child, Charles found these Sunday rituals very dull and it was difficult not to fidget. As a young man, although he believed wholeheartedly in the Christian teachings, he still found the services lacked any spark and he always came out of church feeling rather depressed. So when he moved to London and was introduced the Evangelical church style of worship, he was fascinated.

Initially Charles had taken lodgings while he looked for something more permanent and to his liking. The Rogers family with whom he stayed, and who were poor but respectable, attended a large Pentecostal Church nearby, and he was invited to accompany them there on his first Sunday. Not having sought out an Anglican church, he felt obliged to accept.

As soon as he was through the door, he received a welcome he had not experienced in any other church. He might have found the warmth and enthusiasm rather overbearing and intrusive had he not been feeling rather lonely. After all, it was not the done thing to greet strangers, let alone each other, in this overtly familiar manner. But he decided to endure whatever the service comprised, if only out of a sense of courtesy, and to satisfy his curiosity as to how this event would unfold.

Sitting in a pew with the Rogers family, he was aware of a general air of expectation and excitement. Before long the Pastor appeared and gave a warm greeting to those gathered before him. The pulpit, in which he was standing, was huge in comparison with that in his parish church, with enough room to accommodate about six church Elders who had joined him. It was raised high up above the floor so that everyone could see the Pastor unimpaired. He announced the first hymn, of which Charles had never heard, and they all stood up to sing. What a difference from the funereal pace he was used to. The quick tempo and catchy tune accompanied words of praise and of joyfulness experienced in God’s presence. Another hymn followed and, as Charles tried to sing along to unfamiliar music and words, he became aware of raised arms and one or two people dancing in the aisles.

At the close of singing, the Pastor held the last note on which he sang, ‘Praise the name of the Lord, hallelujah’, which prompted the congregation to follow his lead, arms in air and waving slightly. There followed a sermon on a variety of devils; those of adultery, alcohol, pride and so on, with the promise of hellfire and brimstone for those who indulged. Charles was amazed. Never before had he witnessed such a vibrant and interactive service. Here was a form of worship that was lively, visual and, at the same time, very controlling. Images of hellfire were a sure way to maintain discipline, and the threat of eternal damnation if one did not follow the strictures would be a deterrent to anyone, surely? It was talk of eternal damnation and hellfire which impressed upon Charles. That neither really existed did not impinge upon his consciousness.

In due course, Charles found suitable and permanent accommodation, and he left the Rogers family. But he did want to hear more about hellfire and how to avoid eternal damnation. He attended an occasional Bible study class and, once he had become engaged to Lavinia, one in particular caught his eye – Ensuring a Wife’s Duty to God and her Husband. Here he learned about God’s requirements for a wife to be obedient and subservient to her husband. To resist would be paramount to dancing with the devil, and her punishment would be an afterlife of torment. A husband would be failing in his duty to God if he did not ensure an obedient wife, and this duty extended to any children from the union.

The problem with returning to Worthington Manor was that Charles had to attend the parish church. To revert to a more conventional form of worship was tedious in the extreme. His parents disapproved of his new found zeal and tried to distance themselves from Charles’s attempts to convert them to his new beliefs. Unfortunately for him, he had been convinced that if you were not born again and had given yourself to Jesus, you would burn in hell. It was therefore his duty to save his family from this fate and encourage them into the evangelical way of thinking. His parents had more sense, as did Anne, but Lavinia found herself having to go along with his demands. Her private thoughts on the matter had to stay that way, even when any perceived slight misdemeanour on her part was interpreted as succumbing to the devil’s temptation. She found it was easier to say nothing than to plead her case and thus endure being prayed over and having to ‘repent’ when she felt no such compulsion.

Not long after James was born, Charles’s mother died of pneumonia contracted after a bout of influenza. His father never quite recovered from this blow, on top of losing his eldest son, and he died four years later of heart complications. Thus Charles and Lavinia became Lord and Lady Davenport, and Anne stayed on at the Manor as a much loved sister-in-law and aunt in her own small suite of rooms.

Young James was a serious little boy. He seemed to have been born with an imbued sense of moral duty, and he was very amenable to his father’s religious zeal and the teachings he received at his knee. Charles had taken it upon himself to address the failings of the local vicar and instil in James a God-fearing respect for life. Louisa, on the other hand, was more problematic. She asked too many questions which Charles struggled to answer. Would people from prehistoric times really go to hell even though, through no fault of their own, the Bible, Christianity and Jesus were of the future? Why, if you were a really kind person, would you go to hell just because you did not go to church? So between the two children, Charles was thankful that James, his heir, was the one who could be moulded. When the time came, Louisa could be married off to someone who would keep her in check and curtail her enquiring mind.

As well as disliking her father’s strict Christian upbringing, as with most children Louisa also had an aversion to attending church on Sundays. Like her father before her, she found the services most tedious and longed to be outdoors. Anne, her aunt was sympathetic to her niece’s feelings. Had she not married into the Davenport family and remained living in their household, she doubted that she would be a regular worshipper. A closeness grew up between aunt and niece, and Louisa often found herself drawn to Anne’s part of the house from where she drew comfort and respite from constant scrutiny.

It has to be said that Charles was very fond of his daughter. He found delight in her company when on neutral topics of conversation, and he enjoyed her pleasure in exploring her world as new experiences opened up to her. Her governess, a Miss Trimmer, was excellent at encouraging a genuine interest in various topics, and father and daughter would spend time poring over an atlas or dissecting a flower to see the parts it comprised. But he was strict with her too. There was no room for childish petulance or disobedience; both were met with punishment which might have been considered rather unfitting for the crime.

When Louisa was about five, James was given a toy car for his birthday. It was a special car – a model of a Rolls Royce – complete with box and serial number, and intended to be one of a collection of new motor cars that were coming onto the market. James was marginally interested in it, and politely thanked his father, but it was Louisa who was really taken with the toy vehicle and longed to hold it and to push it along the wooden floors of the Manor’s long corridors.

But she was forbidden to touch it. It was, her father had said, not hers to play with, she might drop and damage it and anyway, it was not a toy for girls. James, who was starting to realise boys were a superior breed to girls, suddenly became very interested in his new toy and proclaimed that it was not to be touched by a mere girl.

This did nothing to quench Louisa’s interest in the car. She had never seen such a toy, and why couldn’t a girl have one? It wasn’t fair. As it was, she was not allowed to play with the elaborate train set bought for James for his birthday before. She was allowed to watch James and his father, and any other male visiting the household play with it, but she was not allowed to touch it, which she longed to do.

Not long after James’s birthday, Louisa saw her chance to have a close look at the coveted toy. She found herself alone in the nursery and saw the shiny metal beckoning to her from the top of the bookcase where James had placed it as a much prized ornament. She reached up and grasped her quarry, her warm hand making contact with the cold metal. It was a satisfying moment. At last, the