The Madman's Daughter (Madman's Daughter - Trilogy)

by Megan Shepherd

  I nearly spit out my water. Montgomery’s jaw tightened.

  I pulled at my collar, needing air. Edward stared at me from across the table, face so slack I might as well have slapped him. Guilt seized me. I’d told him I cared about Montgomery, so he shouldn’t have been surprised. But there’d been that night behind the waterfall. I couldn’t pretend that had meant nothing.

  “I don’t know what you’re talking about,” Montgomery said, trying to pass it off casually. But his voice shook. He didn’t look up from the table.

  Father smirked. “Don’t show your lack of intelligence by insulting mine.” He poured himself another glass of brandy. His temper had cooled into self-righteousness. “Juliet, don’t tell me you didn’t know. Montgomery’s been in love with you since the day you found him again. Long before that, come to think of it. He’s been in love with the mere idea of you for years.” He took a sip. “It’s pathetic.”

  “Stop this,” I said. My voice was barely audible above the rage boiling in my veins.

  But Father was enjoying torturing him. “We all know it’s true. I merely want to inform him that you’re too good for him. Prince is a damn fool, but I’d rather pair you with him. At least he’s of proper breeding.”

  I couldn’t bring myself to look at either of them. I just wanted the torture to end.

  “What do you say, Prince?” Father said jovially. “You wouldn’t mind a match with my daughter, would you? After all, it’s a small island. Limited selection, you understand, unless you prefer the four-legged variety.”

  My mouth nearly fell open. My face was burning, but I was too angry to be embarrassed.

  Edward slammed his fist on the table. “I say you’re cruel and a madman, Doctor.” He pushed his chair back so hard it grated on the wood floor. “The sooner this world is rid of you, the better it will be.” He threw his napkin on the table and left the room.

  I stared at a chip in my supper plate, stunned. The ticking clock echoed in the hollow cage of my heart.

  At last, Montgomery stood. “I agree with Edward. And I’ll add that you’re a goddamned bastard.” He stormed out of the room into the rain.

  I stood, too, but Father grabbed my wrist.

  “He’s a servant, Juliet. You’d do well to remember that. Prince would be the better match.”

  “Why do you care?” I yelled. “Why not just leave us be?”

  “It’s still my duty to see you married. And your duty to do as I say.”

  “You’ve never liked Edward.”

  “He’s of use to me in this case.”

  Father didn’t care about people, only how he could use them. And matching me with Edward would mean fulfilling his fatherly duty so he could send me back to London with a husband and never think of me again.

  I wrenched my hand from his. I had nothing to say to him.

  TWENTY-NINE

  LATER THAT EVENING, I paced the long portico outside my apartment. Rain poured off the roof and into the courtyard. Beneath the door to Edward’s outbuilding a shadow passed, back and forth, back and forth, making the light shift and slide. I pictured Edward pacing on the other side, as trapped as I was. Father didn’t like Edward, knew hardly anything about him, but was ready to pawn me off on him to get rid of me. It stung that I meant so little.

  I leaned against a post, listening to the storm. A light shone from the barn, where Montgomery must be attending to the horses, wishing the mess over dinner could be cleaned as easily as brushing down a horse. Above all the embarrassment and the anger, I was proud of him for standing up to my father.

  I made my way around the portico, stealing glances at the barn’s cracked half door, wanting just a glimpse of him. The horses stamped and whinnied within. I hadn’t intended on going inside, but as if by their own accord, my fingers softly pushed the door open. Inside, rain slowly leaked into murky puddles in the straw. The whites of the horses’ eyes flashed in the lantern light.

  Montgomery groomed Duke with quick, tense strokes.

  I let the door ease closed behind me, but the hinges groaned. Montgomery’s eyes slid to mine. They were dark. Cold. Warning me away. He brushed harder, sending dust dancing in the air.

  “He didn’t mean it,” I said. I hugged my arms close. “He would have said anything to wound you.”

  The brush kicked up more dust, almost obscuring his face. The rhythmic sound of hard strokes against the horse’s hair was hypnotic. Montgomery’s jaw was set hard, the cords in his muscles strained.

  “I know,” he said.

  He finished brushing the horse’s hindquarters and back legs, then used a metal pick to pull the knots from Duke’s tail. When he finished, he threw the pick into a tin bucket. The metallic ring echoed in the small space, giving me shivers.

  He rubbed down his hands with an old rag and stood in the stall opening. His presence warmed the room more than the lantern.

  “But he wasn’t wrong,” he said. Desire flickered in his eyes like firelight.

  My heartbeat stumbled. He’s been in love with you for years, Father had said. I’d thought Montgomery’s affection lay with Alice, but could I have been wrong? If so, how could he love someone whose father had been so cruel? What if I misunderstood him still? What if—

  He stepped closer, lowering his head. His face was inches from mine. Then he pulled me to him, digging his hands into my arms. His lips found mine. I jerked back, just for a breath, shocked by his passion. It was totally improper. But as he grabbed my chin and kissed me again, harder this time, I forgot about decorum. Suddenly I couldn’t be close enough to him. I clutched the collar of his shirt so hard the fabric ripped.

  His lips found the pulsing vein on my neck. I could hardly think. It was familiar and new, all at once. This was the little boy who’d taken care of me when Father was consumed with work. The little boy I’d idolized since I could barely walk.

  He pushed my back against the stall door, kissing me. Edward had tried to kiss me, but I’d been so shocked I’d barely had time to explore how it felt. Lucy had told me stories of shady corners and sweaty palms. But this was passionate. Wild. Something I’d never known.

  “Have you kissed a girl before?” I whispered.

  He ran a thumb over my cheek. His eyes lingered on my lips. “Yes,” he said. I thought of Alice, her pretty blond hair, the split lip that made her so vulnerable. But it wasn’t her name he said. “A woman at the docks in Brisbane. She didn’t mean anything. I was lonely. It wasn’t love.”

  A prostitute, he meant. So he’d done much more than kiss her. Suddenly I didn’t know what to do, as though I were still just a child and he a grown man. “Just once?”

  “Twice.” His fingers twisted in the hair at the back of my neck. The pupils of his eyes were wide and black, like an animal’s. “Does it matter?”

  I bit my lip. I felt dizzy as a spinning top. In my old life I never would have risked my reputation. Never would have stepped outside the line.

  But that life was behind me.

  “No,” I said. I stood on my toes, pressing my lips to his.

  THE SOUND OF BARKING dogs made me jump. I’d lost track of time, swept up in the storm of Montgomery’s passion. He had pulled me into a dark corner of Duke’s stall, murmuring my name as his lips grazed my throat, my shoulder, my temples.

  I fought to my senses and put a hand on his chest. “Do you hear the dogs? Balthazar’s returned.”

  He paused, listening, but his grip tightened on my waist. His hair hung loose over the sides of his face, hiding all but his fierce eyes.

  A voice called from the courtyard. It was Father’s. I gasped.

  “Montgomery! You worthless fool, are you in here?”

  Montgomery’s fingers curled into the folds of my dress, protectively. My lips fell open but he placed a finger against them. I pressed farther into the barn wall, wishing I could disappear into it.

  Montgomery pulled his hair back. He stepped out of the stall, blocking me from Father’s view. “Duke st
umbled on the ride today. I thought he might have a sprain.” I detected an edge to his voice. After all, their earlier argument wasn’t the sort of spat that would blow over easily.

  “Get him saddled,” Father snapped. “And Duchess as well. Ajax has killed again. That striped fellow, Lear. The beasts are rattled. It’s time to put an end to this, storm or not.”

  I kept a hand pressed to my mouth, afraid to make the slightest sound. Father couldn’t find me here. I wouldn’t put it past him to kill Montgomery.

  Montgomery met my eyes briefly before closing the stall gate behind him. I heard the sound of his footsteps on the stone floor.

  “Balthazar is gathering the men,” Father said. “Prince will come with us. He may be a fool, but at least he can hold a gun.”

  “And Juliet?”

  “She’ll stay with Alice. This was a fortress once. Nothing can get through these walls.”

  I heard the sound of jangling bridles in the tack room. And then Father’s voice, lower.

  “And don’t think I’ve forgotten your insolence tonight. The minute Ajax is dead, you and I will have words.”

  I heard the creak of the door’s hinges as Father left. A moment later, Montgomery unlatched the stall gate.

  “He’s gone to the salon. Quick, hurry to your room.”

  “Be careful,” I said.

  He pressed his lips to my forehead tenderly, flooding me with warmth. “Be safe, Juliet.”

  I slipped out of the barn, dodging every shadow for fear of the dark, and dashed back to my apartment. I pulled off my skirt and blouse and slipped into my nightdress. The last light faded over the sea as an overwhelming feeling of darkness grew in my heart. Whatever lay in that jungle, Montgomery and Edward were going to face it.

  Alice knocked at my door. She looked terrified. “Miss? Have you heard?”

  “Yes.” I wanted to crumple in the corner with my face in my hands. It would be so easy to give in to the fear. But fear was written on Alice’s face too. I took her hand, forcing back my own terror. “Don’t worry, Alice. We’ll be safe.”

  “They’ve all gone. We’re alone.”

  “I know.” I squeezed her hand, trying not to let my own worry show. “I know.”

  THIRTY

  FORMALITIES DISAPPEARED IN THE face of fear. It didn’t matter that Alice was a servant and I the master’s daughter. We climbed into my bed, huddling together like sisters frightened by a howling storm outside. Alice’s eyes were wide and haunted. Maybe she was worried for Montgomery’s safety. Or for the islanders’. Or for our own. Either way, there’d be no sleep for us that night.

  I remembered that Montgomery had mentioned a needlepoint kit in my mother’s trunk. I got up and dug it out and untangled the colored threads. We needed something to keep our hands busy.

  “What’s this, miss?”

  I found a few tarnished needles. “You’ve never seen needlepoint?”

  She shook her head.

  “How I envy you.” I unfolded a worn pattern of a blue bunny rabbit. She knew the basics of sewing, so she picked it up quickly, though her hands trembled with each lightning crack outside. I plucked at my own pattern—a milk goat—though my thoughts rustled in the wind like the leaves outside. My lips still tasted Montgomery’s salty kisses. I could barely think of the murders or our escape or even feel a pang of guilt that I’d rebuffed Edward’s advance but kissed Montgomery so willingly.

  I pricked my finger with the needle. My distracted stitches had made the goat look more like a horned devil. Alice’s needlepoint had drifted off course, too, as her eyes were fixed on the dark window.

  “Pay attention,” I said, hiding my own botched stitching under my skirt. “You have to concentrate.” She looked at her work blankly. Her big eyes crinkled with worry. “It’s all right for a first try,” I added.

  “I’m sure it isn’t nearly as fine as yours, miss.”

  I tucked mine farther under my skirt. “Why were you never taught needlepoint? Every girl I know has calluses thick as pennies on her fingers.”

  “I’ve no use for something so fine. Just the basics of sewing. Patches and hems.”

  “Did your mother teach you to sew?”

  Her face darkened. She turned her head, hiding the harelip. “No, miss. I never knew my mother.”

  Her voice was barely audible. She suddenly concentrated raptly on the stitches. It wasn’t normal, a young girl alone on a godforsaken island, under the care of a madman. “Then who brought you to the island?”

  “No one. I’ve lived here as long as I can remember.”

  “But you must have parents. How did they come to be here?”

  “They came with the doctor.” Her voice dissolved to a whisper. Lightning cracked outside. The needle trembled as she pushed it through the fabric. I was beginning to understand. Her parents had been the Anglican missionaries who came over on the same ship as my father. Meaning she was the sole survivor of whatever tragedy had destroyed them.

  No wonder she didn’t want to talk about it.

  “So who taught you to sew?” I asked, trying to keep my voice light. It wasn’t successful. The wind howled outside. Something fell against the roof—a branch maybe. We both jumped.

  “Montgomery did, miss.”

  The blood rushed to my cheeks at the thought of him. I cocked my head. “I’d hardly expect him to know his way around mending clothes.”

  “Oh, he’s quite knowledgeable about everything,” she gushed. Her face lit up, the danger outside forgotten. I’d found a topic to take her mind off the murders, at least. I just wished it wasn’t so close to my own pounding heart. “He does all the carpentry and metalwork, and he treats us when we’re ill—he’s an extraordinary physician—and he even taught me to cook. Cooking and sewing are woman’s work, but Montgomery isn’t too proud. Not when there’s work to be done.”

  The burning color in her cheeks made me uneasy. She was thirteen, maybe fourteen. The age when most girls can’t think of anything but first kisses and true love. She was infatuated with Montgomery. I could hardly blame her. But it felt wrong to just sit and listen to her gush about him, knowing he’d just had his lips all over me.

  “Yes, he’s very talented,” I said.

  “And you’ll never hear him complain. Even the villagers”—her voice dropped—“even they do as he says. They obey the doctor out of fear, if I may be so bold to say. But they listen to Montgomery because he’s kind to them.”

  “Indeed.” I pulled too hard at a pink stitch and ripped the thread. A curse slipped out as I reached for another skein.

  “In fact, Montgomery told Balthazar he’d like to teach him to read. Can you imagine, miss? Balthazar with a book in his hands? And Montgomery will do it. He always keeps his promises.”

  “Does he?” I asked, focusing on threading my needle. The trees outside trembled and shook. Something scraped against the side of the building. I glanced at the window, but outside was only darkness and leaves shimmering in the moonlight. I wished she would talk about something else. Anything else. The feel of Montgomery’s hands lingered on my waist, so powerful that I thought it must be obvious with one look at my face. And yet she didn’t seem to suspect a thing.

  “Oh yes. He promised to take me to London one day. I know he will. He’s told me all about it—the tall buildings and the people and the flower markets.” Her eyes were big and dreamlike.

  The needle slipped from my fingers. I patted the duvet until I felt the stiff metal against my thumb. Why would he make such a promise? A man and an unwed girl couldn’t travel alone without rumors. I certainly knew that. It was one thing for him and me to travel together—I didn’t have anything to lose, not even a reputation. But Alice did.

  So did he have some affection for her? Had he even considered marrying her? The thought made me blanch. But it was logical. Before I came, she was the only girl on the island. He certainly wasn’t the type to care about her harelip. And she was a sweet girl. The kind a man married. N
ot like me, a girl who’d just as soon scratch a man as cook for him.

  Could I just be a passing fancy to him then? Something new, like the prostitute in Brisbane?

  A loud thump at the window made me gasp. I’d been deep in my head. Alice trembled in fright, her needlework forgotten. Even Montgomery was forgotten.

  “A coconut fell,” I said quickly. “The wind blows them down. I hear them occasionally.” I hoped she was too distracted to remember there were no palm trees anywhere near the compound.

  She tore her eyes from the window to see if I was serious. I swallowed the fear creeping up my throat. There was no telling what was on the other side of those iron bars. Jaguar, perhaps. A pack of islanders starting to regress. If only the window had a screen or shutters to seal off that awful darkness.

  Another thump sounded. We both jumped. And then a long scraping sound, as if something were running a knife against the side of the building. Alice’s small hand found mine and squeezed. My mind raced. I needed to devise an explanation to keep the fear from blooming in our hearts.

  “The wind,” I muttered. It was a poor answer, and it didn’t soothe either of us. Her breath came in quick little gasps. Something tapped against the iron bars. Tap. Tap. Tap. As if the darkness were knocking.

  Alice’s mouth fell open. I clapped my hand over it to keep her from screaming. She struggled but I wrapped an arm around her, holding her tight, like Montgomery did to calm the rabbits.

  “Quickly. Get on the floor,” I whispered.

  We tumbled off the bed, hiding behind the mattress, where anything outside couldn’t see.

  “What’s out there?” she asked, squeezing my arm as though she was afraid I would leave her. No explanation came to my lips. It wasn’t the wind, that was for sure.

  “Stay low. You’ll be fine.” I crawled across the floor to the dressing table. I pulled the rusty shears out of a drawer and hid them in the folds of my nightdress. Seeing them would only frighten her more.