Doing Hard Time

       Leonora ran at breakneck speed through the wild untamed forest of Eastern Hemlock and White Pine trees, her long black hair streaming behind her and her brown and white spaniel, Tempus, close at her heels. Thorns and pricker bushes tore into the soft flesh of her light reddish brown skin of her face and arms but she had no time to assess the damage. She plunged without a thought into the babbling stream who had been her companion since childhood. The bottom of her expensive exquisite white gown was soaked and muddied, but she didn't gave her favorite dress a second thought. Pure adrenaline was propelling her forward, otherwise fear would have frozen her in place. Leonora's sole priority of the moment was to put as much distance as she could between herself and the party of baying foxhounds and their handlers that her Uncle Cyrus would unleash on them. She made her way to the farthest corner of the thousand plus acre property and crawled into the gnarled opening of her favorite hiding place- the crooked Wolf Tree- with Tempus trying to squeeze in behind. Leonora knew it was a matter of time before she was discovered and fainted dead away from exhaustion and lack of sleep. The threat of the  Bloomingdale Insane Asylum floated about in her brain. 

       The threat of being forcibly restrained, transported and held at this formidable place was indelibly etched into every fiber of her being. Possibilities of horrible things happening often overpower pleasanter, less powerful images. Most of her seventeen years had been spent in a joyous, happy way. The sudden jolt of this unwelcome turn of events impressed her in the same way that her father's livestock were branded with the white-hot insignia of their estate. 

        Leonora's eyes fluttered as she drifted in and out of consciousness. She knew she should keep moving on if she had any hopes of escaping the hunting party. The utter hopelessness of the situation and extreme fatigue glued her to the spot as an anchor would a boat. The sound of the dogs and men got closer. She rose to her feet to greet her captors with feigned courage rather than submitting weakly. A flash of anger brightened her dark eyes. Even Tempus betrayed her with his excitement in seeing the pack of hounds. Her resentment towards the innocent canines evaporated quickly, but grew in intensity towards the men. Cyrus nodded his head and watched while the two stable hands removed the white canvas straight jacket from its matching bag. Reginald and Martin couldn't meet her eyes when they guided her arms through the long sleeves of the coat, criss-crossed the arms in front and buckled the jacket in back. Only a week ago, they exchanged pleasantries as they saddled up her horse. The sorry procession slowly wound their way through Leonora's beloved stomping grounds of her Mohawk ancestors. Without any fanfare, she was guided into the waiting carriage drawn by two black horses. A stout matron with a dour expression was seated across from her.

       Cyrus looked at Leonora in her pitiful condition and his steel-gray eyes lit up with smug satisfaction. He said, “ Leonora, this is Mrs. Hunt, a warden from Bloomingdale. She'll accompany you on the journey to Albany and will remove your straight jacket just before you two take the train south to New York. I have given her authority to act in case you're tempted to do something stupid. Keep in mind that it would be a shame for something to happen to Tempus if I get word you weren't cooperative.”

         A cold stabbing chill coursed through Leonora's veins as she watched Cyrus pat the top of Tempus's head as the happy canine licked his hand. 

          Cyrus continued, “ I hope you think your situation over and have a change of heart while you're there. I know what is best for you and expect obedience in my decisions that pertain to your welfare. I will see you in a month if you follow the rules and do as you're told. “ 

        After this speech, Cyrus turned his back on the carriage and made his way back to the house. Salty tears ran down Leonora's face and streaked her high-boned cheeks as the party pulled onto the main road and made the journey southward. 

         Mrs. Hunt was a woman inclined to be taciturn and answered Leonora's questions with impatience and clipped, brief answers. She produced a small notebook from her unadorned black purse and appeared to write down what Leonora was saying. Leonora had the sense to shut up. Just outside of Albany, the carriage stopped and Mrs Hunt gave her instructions. 

        She said in her no-nonsense husky voice,” We'll take the jacket off now before we get to the station. I've been instructed to take you to the Woman's Insane Asylum on Blackwell Island instead of Bloomingdale if you cause a fuss. I was a matron at Blackwell and trust me, you don't want to end up there. Remember what your uncle said about your dog. I don't want any feminine drama or hysterics. You're going to be traveling in real luxury in the Pullman car and we'll ride and eat our meals in privacy. A guard will be stationed outside the door in case you decide to try an escape. Another coach will take us to Bloomingdale where you'll start your rehabilitation. Understood?”

      Leonora comprehended only too well and nodded her head. She was beaten down and couldn't appreciate the adventure and delights that traveling by train to the big city would provide. In other circumstances, it would have been an adventure. She decided to sleep as much as she could to rest up for the challenge that Bloomingdale posed. Before she knew it, she was standing in front of the elegant Federal limestone building. It looked lovely with the full moon bathing it in a soft glow. With a sense of irony, Leonora realized it could be the place where she'd lose her sanity. 

       Mrs. Hunt led her through the entrance and they stopped at a huge ornate oak desk with several women seated behind it. They looked very similar in appearance and dress to Leonora's surly companion. Mrs. Hunt stepped behind the desk and engaged one of them in a whispered private conversation and then headed for the exit. 

        Leonora’s eyes were wide and she looked even younger than her seventeen years as she drank in the sights, sounds and smells of the unfamiliar place. The occasional shrieks and moans that pierced the air even at this late hour struck her senses first. They sounded desperate and mournful and Leonora's hands began to shake. The plain surroundings looked clean but there was a strange brew of smells- disinfectant, onions and body odor. The woman who conferred with Mrs Hunt had a folder with Leonora's name on it. Mrs Smith asked her several questions and took notes. She gave a short sermon about rules, regulations and expected behavior. The scariest part spelled out the consequences for not being an obedient young woman. She was told she would be meeting with the Doctor tomorrow. Leonora , Mrs Smith and an orderly carrying Leonora's suitcase walked the short distance down the dimly-lit corridor to room number 107. The orderly unlocked the door with a key from a huge circle of similar keys that she extracted from her apron pocket. The door was flung open and the moon's yellow light streamed through the two barred windows. She was surprised to see the unmoving form of a person asleep in one of the two beds. She was directed to change into an institutional nightgown that came from her bedside closet. Leonora shivered behind the privacy screen as she donned her new garment. She was directed to her single bed as the women made their exit and locked the door behind them. The key made an ominous, screechy noise in the lock. Leonora heard the occasional wails from some of her fellow inmates as she tried to drift off to sleep. She watched in silence as her roommate rose from her bed, sat in a chair in front of a moon-lit window, and started scribbling furiously on a notepad. With a wave of fatigue from her last few stressful days, Leonora fell into a deep sleep and knew no more until morning. 

       The bright early light of the midsummer sun streamed in through the iron-barred windows and woke Leonora. She forgot where she was for a moment and was shocked to be in this bare spartan room instead of her sumptuously furnished bedroom at home. Her roommate was still writing on her notepad but stopped her work when she saw Leonora was awake. She hurried over to Leonora's bedside, smoothed her own red- orange curls, gave Leonora a wide smile and stuck out her hand in greeting. “My name is Diana, “ said her new acquaintance. 

      “I'm Leonora- glad to meet you,”  she said while taking and shaking Diana's proffered hand. She marveled at Diana's red hair, freckles and diminutive size. Leonora pegged her for about thirty and wondered what had landed her here.

       Diana in turn gave Leonora the once-over and exclaimed, “You're just a baby- surely you don't belong in this place!”.

       Tears welled up in Leonora's eyes yet again and Diana patted her arm reassuringly. 

         Diana spoke to Leonora in a whisper. She said, “I'll give you the rundown . It may seem like you've entered the gates of hell, but it's tons better than Blackwell. The staff believes that physical exercise is therapeutic and there are gardens and orchards to tend. The food is plain but usually decent. Walking is encouraged and there are plenty of scenic pathways. However, there are consequences if you don't cooperate with their program. There are straight jackets, seclusion, taking away privileges and even worse. They'll never let you out or will threaten you with Blackwell if you try to buck them. “

      Diana paused and looked around the room and outside to make sure no one was observing them. 

          She continued with her warnings and ran down a quick list of staff and patients who were decent and those to avoid at all costs. “Remember at all times to agree with their assessments and accept their treatment strategies- whether you agree or not. They believe that women should be meek and submissive. You have no power here and this place is not the hill to die on. I don't know why you're here, but your best strategy is to go along to get along and don't express anger or complain about the situation you came from. Somebody sent you here for a reason and they're paying the tab.”

      They lifted their heads from their huddle when they heard footsteps and the jangle of keys coming down the hallway. Diana whispered once more, “I’ll help you through this,”  before sprinting back to her bed.

        Over the few days, Leonora tried to adjust to the institutional and regimented routine. She was required to wear the hospital-issued dresses and was forced to keep to a rigid schedule from dawn till dusk. Gooseflesh rose up on her arms 

often as she heard unworldly screams, cries and guttural language. She saw women hauled off by staff to be punished for real or imagined transgressions. Some appeared to hearing voices and talked and laughed to themselves. Others looked at her with paranoia or anger. Leonora followed Diana's advice and followed orders as best she could. She was careful to be guarded in what she said to the doctors and matrons- even Diana herself. She resolved to remain plain in appearance and intellect as not to stand out and arouse jealousy. Leonora began to be regarded by staff as cooperative and was able to gain more privileges. Diana wrote in her notebook at night and hid it away under a loose floorboard in the closet when not in use. Leonora was curious to know why Diana was there and what she was writing, but didn't dare ask. Two weeks into her stay and two weeks before her scheduled release, the weight of being imprisoned on her eighteenth birthday got the best of Leonora. She broke down and told Diana everything while they were out on a walk of the grounds. 

       She said, “This is the most awful birthday of my life. Just a year ago, I was celebrating with my father and friends with a fabulous party. We have a beautiful estate just outside of Saratoga. Father grew up poor and ran away after his mother died . He made his living as a peddler- he preferred the term hawker- and traveled around the Northeast. Father sold goods to rich and poor alike and dabbled in selling rare and expensive items as well. He swore some objects were rare and magical. He accumulated quite a fortune by the time he was in his mid-forties. He fell in love with my mother- who was half his age and whose ancestors were Mohawk Indian. He gave up his business and bought our estate. My mother died in childbirth and he raised me himself. “

       Leonora stopped in the middle of their walk- overcome with emotion. Diana looked at her with sympathy and handed her a handkerchief. They resumed their stroll while Leonora continued her story. 

        “Father showered me with love and attention. We explored the woods and went on long rides. I received a good education and had music and dancing lessons. Life was idyllic until he died a few weeks after my birthday last year. Father left our estate to his half-brother Cyrus. I was too young to inherit and he became my guardian. I don't know what promises Cyrus made to Father, but he turned out to be a hateful and cruel person. Maybe the war warped his thinking. He insisted that I marry our wealthy neighbor, who offered a large sum for my hand. Daniel is base and coarse- also three times my age. When I refused and ran away, Cyrus had me committed.  He has the expectation I will change my mind, or he will make life miserable for me.”

       Diana gave her a hurried hug so they wouldn't attract the attention of the staff. She said, “So many women have been placed here because their families want to exert control and lock them away. It should be a crime. “

       The night before Diana left, she encouraged Leonora to agree to the wedding but hatch an escape plan instead. Diana confided that she was an undercover reporter writing about the incarceration of women in mental hospitals. She gave Leonora her address and the names of a few attorneys that could possibly help her cause. Leonora sewed the paper into her shoe lining.

     The next morning, Diana hugged Leonora good-bye and whispered in her ear, ”Don't be afraid to look me up! “

       Leonora left as scheduled the next day with Mrs. Hunt. The journey was nearly identical to the trip down- just in reverse order. This time she wasn't fastened into the straight jacket for the carriage ride home from the train station. Mrs. Hunt said, “I trust you've learned to behave.” 

         Leonora felt she didn't belong anywhere and was yet without an alternate plan like Diana suggested. Something her father once said became embedded in her brain and stuck there. It gave her the faintest glimmer of hope to hold onto. 

        When they pulled up in the circular driveway, Leonora felt stronger than when she left. She witnessed things that she wouldn't wish on her worst enemy, yet found the courage to survive this horrible ordeal. 

        When she entered the house, Tempus raced to greet her, with Uncle following behind . Cyrus smelled of alcohol and cigars and his eyes were bloodshot. He said, “The doctor wired me about your progress and your consent to the marriage. Your betrothed is anxious and upped his offer. Would you like to celebrate?” He offered her the bottle.

        Leonora shook her head and said, “If you don't mind, I'd just like to get some sleep. “

       Cyrus motioned to the staircase with an exaggerated gesture and said, “Be my guest. “

       With suitcase in hand, she made her way up the winding staircase with Tempus bounding behind. She entered her room, shut the door and plopped down on her soft feather mattress. She drank in the familiar surroundings- the numerous flower paintings, exotic oriental rug and purple velvet fainting couch. 

       She rose from the bed and walked over to her closet. She took out the elaborate gold box that was decorated with constellations, moon and stars. It was her seventeen birthday present and Father gave her strict instructions not to open it until she was eighteen. Maybe he sensed his time was near and she needed protection from Cyrus. 

         When she gingerly lifted the lid, she saw the box held an ancient hourglass that seemed to be entirely made of gold- sand and all. It had golden wings and was engraved with the Latin phrase “Tempus Fugit “ - time flies. With a deep breath, she flipped it over and the shimmery sand trickled down into the empty half. She was mesmerized at the sight of past, present, and future merged into this magical instrument. 

       With a sudden rush, the temperature dropped one hundred degrees in a few seconds. Blinding snow fell and the wind howled. Her windows frosted up just after she saw that the landscape outside was a winter wonderland. She managed to grab the cash box out the hidden drawer in her desk before it was frozen shut. Leonora made her way down the slippery staircase, clutching the cash box, hourglass and Tempus. She looked into the library as she headed for the door. Cyrus and his manservant were frozen- like lifeless abominable snowmen. When she walked through the door for the last time, Leonora said to Tempus, “We have all the time in the world- but we'd better hurry anyway. “