Chapter 5 - The Mercy Cage

Emily - New York City, October, 1945

Emily - October, 1945

Prologue // Chapter 1 // Chapter 2 // Chapter 3 // Chapter 4

“I told you it was impressive!” George’s voice bounces off the high ceiling in the entranceway.  I pull the heavy wooden door closed behind me by the brass knob and gasp, awed at the grandness inside. “It feels endless.” My own murmur carries softly back to me. The entryway seems to me like a welcoming crossroads-to the left, a wide living room, to the right, a forgotten sitting room, while forward narrows to a long hall peppered with doorways along both sides. Every direction is endless, with further points of egress; as there is grandness to the entry, there is a depth to the darkness. I can’t help but feel meek, as if with the right provocation I might be swallowed by the vastness. Every direction expands,  like limbs shooting out. We stand in what feels to be the heart of the house.  “Far larger than our apartment!” George turns and flashes a child-like smile at me. My heart lifts and I cannot help but share one back. He looks so…light. We made the right choice, now without a doubt. 

“There’s work to be done, of course-”George moves towards the sitting room and swipes dust off the wallpaper, a soft sweet pattern. I follow and put my arms around him. “We’ll manage,” I assure him with a smile. “Though it is quite large…” I start, “- It will feel smaller once we start filling it!” He interrupts, wrapping his arms under mine and pulling me close. I squeal at his grab and I can’t help but giggle as he leans down and kisses me softly. “Imagine a family in that small apartment?” George stays close, his forehead on mine. “I couldn’t fathom,” I reply, not that we didn’t try, I keep to myself. “But here…” I smile as I trail off. Maybe here will be different. He lifts me and kisses the side of my neck, making me laugh once more. “We could have hundreds!” He proclaims when he frees his mouth from my throat. He looks into my eyes and returns my feet to the ground, still holding me tight to his chest. I feel our breaths align, our heartbeats pattering to one another. “Hundreds?” I repeat, cocking my eyebrow playfully. “Dozens?” “Don’t get ahead of yourself, Lord Williams.” He takes my hand and steps back, ceremoniously bringing it forward as he bows and politely kisses it. “My lady, I do believe that somewhere down that hall we may find a proper study…” He peeks up at me, again with that impish smile, daring me on. I bolt out of the sitting room and toward the hall before he gets the chance. “I’ll find it first!” I hear his hearty laugh in my wake as I head off down the hall.    

I try to catch my breath as I laugh and make my way down the hall. I restore the strap of my satchel to the top of my shoulder and slow my pace. My fingers find their way to the delicate flowers embedded in the pretty wallpaper. I smile, quite enamored. The wallpaper feels almost like a fabric. I let my fingertips graze it while I walk. I come to the first door, on my left. I take the knob in my hand and steal a breath, before throwing open the door. “Bathroom.” I murmur to myself. I peek my head in and take stock- almost awed by its size. It is a full room, and a large one at that, with a claw-foot tub against a large window. As I retreat and begin to pull the door closed behind me, I notice a small circular drain on the floor in the middle of the room among the tile. Hm. That might have been nice in the apartment, which was prone to flooding. I click the door closed and make my way to the next door across the hall. I pause in front momentarily, before whipping it open: a closet. A lonely wooden hanger teeters back and forth, shocked at my sudden intrusion. I delicately close the door and turn back to the hall. 

My eyes fall upon the next- a door to my left. I feel a pitfall in my stomach and my face drains. That’s odd, I think. The sensation came upon me instinctively. Like seeing a dog that has bitten you before. My lips feel cold against one another. My feet pull me forward towards the door- I am aware for the first time of the hum of the house. A generator maybe, or perhaps the car idling outside? A steady white noise- it can’t be getting louder, how had I not noticed it before?  I stand now nose to nose with the doorframe and look down to the knob- round and brass, though caked in a dark patina from sitting long forgotten. I rub my cold lips together and swallow, reaching my hand out for the knob. “Did you find it?” I jump, startled by George from the other room. “What?” I call back. “It’s the second door on the right, Emmy!” I exhale and feel suddenly warm again upon hearing his pet name for me. The pit in my stomach gone. I turn my head to the right and head towards the next door across the hall without a second thought. The droning fading as I step, too- must be my ears still ringing from the city, I laugh to myself. I step in front of the thick wooden door and I can’t keep my smile away as I call, “Found it!”

I turn the knob and throw open the door. The study- our study. Nothing extravagant, but compared to our one bedroom flat, oh-so-wondrous. I never could have imagined having such a space to myself, a place in which to pine and pry (what I like to refer to writing as). One to discover in. My hand grips my satchel close and I survey my surroundings. The light pools in from the generous windows, laying atop the warm wooden desk before them. There are tall built-in shelves of books left behind, which we will fill with our own. I lightly touch the leather chair as I pass, making my way to the desk. My desk. I pause briefly to feel the warmth of the sun on my cheeks and glance at the greenery before turning and placing my bag proudly on the desktop. I twist open the latch and retrieve from it my small notebook, which I place beside it. I sit in the wooden and leather chair that swivels squeakily, flip open my notebook and scrawl: 

October 1st, 1945. We have arrived.

I set down my pen, and cheerily examine the drawers near my knees. Mostly empty- save for the bottom right. There I see an old tied folder, left abandoned. A little mystery I cannot resist. I hear muttering from deep in the house, the driver must again be chatting with George. I reach for the folder, it feels as though there is something inside.  I put it atop my notebook and gingerly begin to untwist the string from the circular closure. Muttering or whispering? They can’t be far if I can hear them whisper. I am mesmerized by the winding, but the warm breath on my neck breaks my trance. “DON’T.” I gasp and jump up, the harsh whisper lingers in my ear and my hair stands on end. I flash my head up, expecting George to be beside me, but instead I see the door to the study settle as if someone just pushed behind it. I exhale a laugh and rush into the hall to catch him. “Trying to scare me out? Finders keepers, mister!” I jump out behind the door- “What dear?” I snap my head behind me towards the voice at the end of the hall. George peeks his head out from the sitting room by the entrance. “Did you call for me?” I blink hard and check back behind the door, finding nothing but wallpaper. “Were you- did you come into the study?”, my voice catches in my throat. George looks calm and puzzled, “Just now? I’ve been with Richard. Everything alright?” He cocks his head and smiles curiously towards me, and I can’t help but laugh at myself. Getting a fright over nothing more than a draft. “I must be tired. Shall I make us some lunch?”

  I sashay down the hall, (eager to be with company, if I’m being honest), and pass that peculiar door once more.  That humming again! It really must be a generator, or possibly the heater? George holds his arm out for me “Come, dear, I’d like to introduce you to Richard, the old owner. He’s come to check that we settle in alright.” I smile at him, “that’s very kind of you.” Richard extends his hand for mine and shakes it politely, “I hope you are finding everything to your liking, ma’am,” “Oh, yes, very much.” “Good, she’s all yours!” He laughs a hearty laugh; George joins in merrily, and though I smile,  mine catches in my throat. 

PS - This is our last free chapter of The Mercy Cage. When we started writing this two years ago, we thought that we were writing about the past, but now, we know that we must learn from the past or it repeats itself. If you are willing to share our writing with someone who you think would resonate, that would mean so much to Cat & I as we build our path to making the series. We feel more than ever how important it is, like when The Handmaid’s Tale was released in 2017, that this story reaches others. History repeats itself if we are not careful. The House of Mercy was a real place, buried deep into our history unless you look close;y enough.

(Don’t miss out on your chance to come in as a founding member and receive a hardcopy, signed edition of the book!)

We can’t wait to hear your thoughts.