by Jillian Kent
“It is.” Madeline smiled. “I thought it time.”
Devlin rejoiced at this sign of Madeline’s progress. Perhaps today was the day...
Madeline squeezed Hally’s hand then continued to the pianoforte, where Grace had been playing for their entertainment. She held out her hand, leading her mother to a settee. Devlin waited as they settled themselves, hands entwined.
“I’ve received a letter that will explain it all,” Devlin said, and then he read it aloud.
Grace gasped. “How could I have been so blind to his nature? You were right, Madeline. You were right from the beginning.” Grace dabbed at her eyes with an embroidered handkerchief. “Why didn’t I listen to you?”
“We all have our blind spots, Mother.”
“But I was so certain that he loved me. How could I have been so wrong?”
“Perhaps he did, Mother, in his own distorted way. However, his love of self and his obsessive greed were stronger. I am so sorry.”
“God’s love is greater, Countess Richfield,” Elethea said gently. “He will heal your broken heart, and in His time you may yet love another man.”
“I do not believe I will ever trust another man,” Grace said sadly, “much less love one.”
Hally spoke up. “Lady Ravensmoore is right. When I lost James, I too felt that I could never care for another man. But then God sent Mr. Melton.” She smiled. “I mean Dr. Melton.” She pressed his hand and gazed into his eyes.
Elethea smiled and turned back to Grace. “Give it time, my dear. If God could keep me sane in a prison of insanity and despair, He is mighty enough to heal your heart as well.”
Leaving their mothers behind to comfort each other, Madeline allowed Ravensmoore to lead her into the gardens. “It’s been a difficult day, my dear. But I don’t want you to go to sleep tonight with bad memories.” Ravensmoore took her hand and led her deeper into the maze of flowering plants and blooms the colors of the rainbow.
Stopping under a shaded trellis drooping with trumpet vine, he smiled. “I have another surprise for you. A good one this time.”
“What is it?” She eyed him curiously. “I can’t imagine.”
Ravensmoore’s eyes twinkled. “I have received good news today from Dr. Langford. He has declared me competent to practice medicine. He will provide the highest recommendations regarding my expertise in surgery and that of general practitioner. I am finally and officially a qualified physician.”
“Congratulations!” Madeline smiled up at him. “You are truly gifted, my lord. Never doubt that God has called you to this work. After observing your efforts over the last few weeks, both within the asylum and with our mothers, I cannot begrudge your calling in medicine.”
Ravensmoore shrugged. “Granted, I am not a typical physician. Society will say I serve below my station, but I serve only God.”
“I’m very proud of your accomplishment.” Madeline beamed.
“There’s more. I’ve hired Wiggins as a blacksmith. And I’ve made inquiries about purchasing Ashcroft Asylum. Melton has agreed to run the place for me so I can attend to my duties here at Ravensmoore and still do hands-on work for the patients in need. I want to do all I can to help the poor souls at the asylum as I expand my medical knowledge. It is the only thing I could think to do.”
Madeline looked up at him, letting her pride in him fill her gaze. “I think that is a marvelous idea. It will mean so much for so many.”
Seemingly encouraged by her words, he went on. “I’ve decided on a new name for the asylum. Safe Haven. We will put the bad memories of Ashcroft behind us. I will do everything possible to make it a true shelter for those who suffer. Then patients like Amanda can get the help they need. Mrs. Sharpe and the others will want for nothing to help those in their care.”
Madeline nodded. “No one will be there who doesn’t need to be there. You and Melton will not allow those dreadful ‘treatments’ to continue.”
“I was hoping you’d see it that way.”
Silence fell, and Ravensmoore stepped closer, taking her hands into his. “I have been waiting to talk to you, Madeline. Waiting to see if you have suffered any lasting effects from all you have endured.”
She shuddered slightly. “Thank God, that is all behind us now.”
“You weren’t made to carry your burdens alone, Maddie.”
She glanced up at him, pleased by his use of her name. “I know that now. I mourned my family members’ deaths for far too long and nearly lost my mind because of it. But God rescued me from the pit, Devlin. I will never forget that. I know now that He loves me and watches over me. And no matter what happens, I’ll never separate myself from Him again.”
“He holds us both, Madeline,” Ravensmoore murmured. “He holds us both.” He pressed a kiss to the tips of her fingers, then pulled her still closer. “I wonder…” he murmured.
She held still, waiting.
“Could you marry a man like me, Madeline? A physician and a surgeon and possibly a doctor of the mind? The ton will snub us. We will not be able to lead a conventional, fashionable life. And I will be a constant reminder to you of illness, insanity, even death.” His face darkened at the thought. “I wish I could offer nothing but sunshine and flowers, but God has called me to battle the demons of suffering. Are you able to join me in that battle and be my countess?”
“Of course I will.” Her eyes held his. “When I staunched your bleeding in the asylum, I knew the panic you encountered with my father. I know now that his death was not your fault. I simply could not face it at that time because I wanted someone to blame. We’ve come through this fiery trial for a reason. I trust you, Devlin, and I trust God, who brought us together.”
She raised her lips to his and lost herself in a sweet storm of delight. When their lips parted, he breathed her name as though it would be on his lips forever, as his kiss would forever be on hers.
“My Maddie.”
Devlin pulled her close in the protection of his warm embrace and whispered in her ear. “Together God will guide us on this journey, Maddie, for He alone is the safe haven of our souls. But you, my love, are the refuge for my heart.”
A NOTE FROM THE AUTHOR
Dear Reader,
I am grateful that you chose this book, Secrets of the Heart, to read from all the other books calling to you from brick and mortar bookstore shelves and those in cyberspace. I love that you spent your time escaping into the past with me to explore the world of Regency England and the characters I populated it with who struggle with their own flaws and challenges, much as we do.
I pray that you enjoyed this story and that in some small way it does give you encouragement for the future. I hope you look forward to my next book, Chameleon, which will make its appearance in 2012.
The history of mental illness and its treatment is a long and complicated battle for sanity often filled with misunderstanding. Even with today’s modern treatments and therapies many patients still face difficulty and stigma both within and outside of the church. Families and loved ones pray for relief of those affected by depression, anxiety disorders, and the many other mental health disorders that prevent quality living and a life passionately filled with purpose.
It is my greatest hope that someday the secrets of the brain and mind that harbor illness will be unlocked so that true peace of mind can be experienced by everyone.
Remember 2 Timothy 1:7: “For God hath not given us the spirit of fear; but of power, and of love, and of a sound mind.”
GRATEFULLY,
JILLIAN KENT
COMING IN 2012—
BOOK TWO OF
THE RAVENSMOORE CHRONICLES:
Chameleon
CHAPTER ONE
London 1818
AN ADVENTURE AT last.” Victoria stared in unabashed awe at the sea of activity that surrounded them as their coach merged with others making its way through the muddy, rutted streets. The crowded sidewalks teemed with people of all classes. Women in brilliant gowns o
f color swirled past street urchins and beggars, meshing into an ever-shifting tapestry of humanity.
She’d stepped into a world bigger than York, a world she’d only dreamed about. Victoria leaned back against the banquette and sighed. “London is simply wonderful.”
Nora, her servant and traveling companion, nudged her. “Ye might need to see your brother for more reasons than simply visiting him, Lady Victoria. Me thinks the trip has been over hard on ye noggin, and ye may need a wee bit of the medicinal herbs.”
She looked at Nora in confusion for a moment and then smiled. “You jest, of course.”
Nora sighed. “Of course.”
Victoria and her best friend, Lazarus, a behemoth of a mastiff, vied for the window when a group of young boys chased a dog down the street. Lazarus barked and strained against the coach door in hopes of joining them, but he only succeeded in pushing Victoria out of the way.
“Such a window hound you are, Lazarus,” Victoria said, rubbing a hand over his big, sleek head while she turned and looked out the opposite side of the coach. Men and women hawking wares called to them in hopes of making a profit.
The busy streets gave way to quieter and more prestigious avenues as they made their way to Grosvenor Square and her brother’s London townhome. The quality of the air improved as they moved farther from the central streets of town and into the areas of the upper crust. The coach slowed and then pulled to a halt in front of number three, Devlin’s home.
“I cannot wait another moment.” Grabbing the handle of the coach door, Victoria stepped out onto the curb. Lazarus bounded onto the street.
“Good heavens, it’s a bear,” an elderly passerby said, clinging to her equally astonished husband. “What will become of us?”
Victoria smothered a grin. “He’s quite harmless.”
Lazarus barked, and the couple hurried their steps. Nora bolted out of the coach and grabbed the dog by the collar before he chased the unsuspecting couple down the street. “Thank you, Nora. Just in time.”
Victoria gathered her blue velvet traveling skirt and ran up the five steps to the entrance. She desperately wanted to open the door and race inside. She forced herself to reach for the gilded knocker, hesitated, and then grabbed the doorknob with her gloved hand when the door swung open, pulling her with it. She collided with a body that knocked the breath from her. Strong hands captured her before she tumbled down the steps.
“Dash it! I could have killed you, woman.”
Gulping for air, Victoria regained her balance and her nearly lost blue-feathered bonnet. Lazarus leaped on the man, knocking him down and pinning him to the ground.
“Get this drooling beast off of me!” the man yelled, lying half in and half out of the doorway entrance. “Now!”
“You, sir, are not my brother.”
“Indeed.” A sheen of sweat showed on the man’s brow. “I dislike dogs. Call him off.”
“Stay, Lazarus.” Devlin laughed and patted the dog’s head as he slid past them and wrapped his sister in his arms. “Are you unharmed, my little Snoop?”
“I believe so.” Victoria burrowed deep into his warm, comforting embrace. “I’ve missed you, Dev,” she whispered into his chest and squeezed him tight. “I’ve missed you so much.”
“And I you.” Devlin held her back at arm’s length. “It’s good to see you. Now, come in and tell me all about your journey and how my wife is doing at home without me.”
“Have you forgotten? We have company,” she said.
“In that case, allow me to introduce you to Jonathon Denning, Lord Witt.”
“A pleasure to meet you, Lord Witt,” Victoria said, bending over to see him. “Do you always go about knocking down unsuspecting women?”
Witt groaned under the weight of the dog. “Ravensmoore, I do not find this amusing.”
“Answer my sister’s question, Witt. Are you in the habit of such ungentlemanly behavior?”
“Only when female newcomers appear.”
Victoria grinned. “He shows a sense of humor.”
Devlin’s butler appeared and stood over Lazarus and Witt. “May I be of assistance, your lordship?”
“Thank you, Henry.” Devlin patted the dog. “It’s all right, Lazarus. Go take Henry for a walk.”
Lazarus stepped off of Witt. “Good boy, Lazarus. Good boy,” praised Victoria. The dog turned and nuzzled Victoria’s hand for the treat that awaited him.
Lord Witt sat up in the doorway and ran his hands through disheveled black hair. “I could do with a brandy.”
“Lady Victoria.” Henry straightened his already straight back. “Welcome to London.” He executed a most noble bow and assisted Lord Witt to his feet.
“Henry!” Victoria said. “It is good to see you. Do you mind taking Lazarus? He adores you.”
“For you I would take Lazarus and one of his friends.” The butler smiled, turning his serious face into cheerful amiability. “Come along, old friend.” He accepted a leash from Nora. “Welcome to London, Nora. Would you care to accompany me?”
Nora nodded. “It will help me find my balance again after a long journey.” Devlin turned to the butler. “Henry, feed the beast when you return, and then bring him to Victoria.” “Feed him, sir? And just who should be the sacrifice? Lazarus has a shine to his eyes, and I’m thinking it is for me.”
“Get creative, man. Start with Cook.”
“Now, there’s a right smart answer. Cook will faint dead away.”
Devlin grinned, a wicked glint in his eye. “There’s your answer. If Cook has the nerve to faint, let Lazarus eat her.”
“Devlin!” Victoria feigned horror. “What an outlandish thing to say.” She covered a grin. “That would bring her around faster than smelling salts.”
Lord Witt leaned against the doorjamb, listening to their banter. “I could use some smelling salts myself.” He grabbed a handkerchief from his coat pocket and wiped at his forehead. “Forgive me, but I’ve never shared the passion that some do for dogs. Did I introduce myself?”
Victoria turned toward him. “No, but my brother introduced you. Don’t you remember?”
“All I remember is your dog drooling on me.” Lord Witt shook out the handkerchief and wiped at the wetness on his coat sleeves after wiping the sweat from his face. Victoria mentally weighed his first movement. He’d been unnerved. He was trying to hide that now, but he’d been taken quite off guard by Lazarus. Lord Witt tucked the handkerchief away and turned his gaze on Victoria. “May I ask if you visit London often, Lady Victoria?”
His gray eyes swept over her form with such intensity that she shivered. He studied her in the same open manner she’d seen men study women during the country assemblies in Yorkshire. Those gentlemen were besotted by a lady’s beauty, but his perusal added a hint more of the rogue. Isolated as she had been, she had learned to depend far more on her powers of observation and deduction than on feminine beauty and the ability to flatter. But before she could recover from his scrutiny and utter a response, Devlin stepped between them.
“I believe you were leaving before my sister arrived, Witt. I suggest you not delay.”
Victoria looked from her brother to Lord Witt. Interesting. They didn’t like each other.
Lord Witt appeared to mentally calculate the situation. “I bid you good day, Ravensmoore. Lady Victoria, this is a day I will not forget.” He picked up his hat and left.
Devlin said, “Let us go inside, Snoop. I want to show you the house. And I insist that you take a nap.”
Victoria stopped and looked behind her before going through the door. She sensed the gentleman’s eyes on her, yet she could not see him. Her intuition told her life was about to change in ways she couldn’t imagine. She turned her back on the street and felt a thrill of excitement race through her as she stepped into her brother’s home.
Witt watched from across the street. So she was Ravensmoore’s sister. Seeing her again would take some doing since Ravensmoore and he were not on the
best of terms. Still, there were ways to get what one wanted, when one wanted badly enough. What exactly did he want? He’d just met her. So why did he feel as though he’d just looked into the eyes of his future?
He knew that Ravensmoore had just come from Parliament. The House of Lords session for the day had ended, and there were several issues being discussed. He was certain that the Lord Doctor, as Ravensmoore had been dubbed, was not at all happy with the direction the last discussion had taken related to reforms of the mental asylums. It was bound to make his life even more controversial than it already was at the moment.
A page from the palace approached him. “Lord Witt? I was asked to give this to you.” The boy put the note in his hand and disappeared before he could offer a coin. Witt scanned the note and frowned. Returning to the street, he looked for his coach and signaled his driver.
The team of horses moved onto the muddy street just as rain splashed gently across his face. Witt jumped into the interior of the coach.
“Where to, sir?” called the driver.
“Carlton House, Denton.”
After a short ride Witt entered the home of the Prince Regent. Grand chandeliers, marble floors that went on forever, and ceilings painted with scenes of myths and legends greeted him—a wonderful place to visit, but not his kind of purposeful, long-term living. He much preferred the country. What could be so urgent that Prinny would send for him so soon after their recent conversation?
A young page approached him, a serious expression clouding his young features.
“Lord Witt, His Royal Highness awaits you. Follow me, please.”
Witt smiled. “Thomas, you’re far too serious this day. Why the frown? I enjoy the sound of your laughter much better than the stern look you wear.”
“You will know soon enough, and you will understand.”