Though This Be Madness

by Penny Richards

  There was no one to greet them when they entered, and Lilly paused, uncertain how to proceed. Robbie had no such compunction and headed down a long corridor to places unknown. Lilly whispered his name loudly, but he didn’t respond, and she had no choice but to follow. She caught up with him at the doorway of a large room where several of the patients milled around like lost souls looking for . . . what?

  A woman was marching around the edge of the room, her back ramrod straight, singing “Dixie” in an off-key alto and waving a small Rebel flag above her head. Another sat rocking in a battered rocker, knitting needles flashing and clicking, and muttering about “finishing by Christmas.” The muffler she was working on had to have been twelve feet long, and still she knitted with furious intensity.

  “Ain’t this a bl—” He glanced up at Lilly and changed the word he was about to say for another, knowing she would chastise him if he didn’t. “Blasted mess?” He jerked his head toward a huge man who was headed their way, a fanatical look in his eyes.

  “Hey! You there!” he said, pointing to Robbie.

  “What do you think he wants with me?” the child asked, genuine alarm in his dark eyes.

  “I have no idea,” Lilly said, adding, “and I have no intention of finding out.” She placed a hand on his shoulder and propelled him away from the wild-looking man. As she did so, she saw a woman sitting across the room in another rocker.

  Unlike the unkempt creatures around her, she was dressed simply, but nicely, in a plain green morning dress with the merest hint of lace at the cuffs. The woman’s hair was drawn sleekly back and tied with a ribbon at her nape. Her hands curled around the curved portion of the armrests and she was rocking slowly, staring straight ahead. There was absolutely no emotion in her eyes that Lilly could see. Having seen the portrait in the dining room, Lilly had no doubt that she was looking at Patricia Ducharme. “There she is.”

  Robbie’s head swiveled to the right and he gave a sharp nod. “That’s her all right.” He tipped his head back and looked up at Lilly. “What do we do now?”

  “I’m not sure. Try to talk to her?”

  Robbie nodded and they started across the room. Before they took more than half a dozen steps, a harsh voice stopped them. “You there! Stop!”

  Lilly and Robbie froze and turned slowly. A large woman wearing a white apron over a dark dress and a white cap on her graying hair bore down upon them with a purposeful stride.

  “What are you doing here?” she demanded, stopping in front of them and crossing her arms across her ample bosom. “Visitors are required to check in at the desk and are absolutely not allowed in the common room.”

  Reminding herself that she was an actress by trade, Lilly donned a timid smile and called up her best Irish accent. “I’m so sorry, ma’am. I’ve never been here before, so I didn’t know. I’m Mrs. Bran Sullivan, and this my young brother-in-law, Robbie. We work for Dr. Ducharme and Mrs. Fontenot, and we’ve brought Mrs. Patricia a treat from the girls in the kitchen. Would it be possible for us to see her?”

  The woman’s features and tone softened somewhat. “I’m afraid that’s impossible, Mrs. Sullivan. Mrs. Ducharme has had a hard time settling in here.”

  “Oh, but we won’t stay long,” Lilly pressed. “Just long enough to say hello and let her know we’re all thinking about her.”

  The matron shook her head. “I’m very sorry, but both Dr. Ducharme and Dr. Ballantine feel it would be in her best interest not to have any unnecessary reminders from the past to hinder her progress, at least until her evaluation is completed.”

  “Oh!” Lilly let her disappointment and sorrow show in her face. “We didn’t know. Perhaps later, then. When she’s more settled.” Determined to get as much information as possible, she asked, “Is Dr. Ballantine overseeing her care, then?”

  “As the city physician, he is the one doing the evaluation, yes.”

  While they were talking, Robbie had wandered away from them several feet, almost as if he were trying to catch Patricia’s eye. “Come back here, young man. I’ve said you’re not allowed to be in here.”

  “Robbie!” Lilly said sternly. “Come back here and do as you’re told.”

  He turned, the expression on his face so wide-eyed and innocent it would have made an angel look guilty. “I’m sorry, ma’am, Aunt Brona. I meant no harm. It’s just that I was curious. I’ve not ever seen crazy folks before.”

  Part of Lilly wanted to sink through the floor at his irreverence for a serious condition; the other part wanted to give him a kiss. She had the feeling that most boys his age would respond in much the same way. He walked back to Lilly, and the woman turned her attention back as well.

  “Do you have any news I can take back to her family? Is she doing all right?”

  “I’m not at liberty to give out any information about the patients to anyone other than family members.” When Lilly pasted an even sadder expression on her face, the woman huffed a sigh, almost of resignation. “She’s well. She eats. She wants to go home and is confused about where she is. That’s the best I can do.”

  “I understand. Thank you for your time.” Lilly turned to go, but the woman’s next words stopped her.

  “Would you like to leave the treat for her?”

  “Oh, of course,” Lilly said, holding out the pralines. “Thank you.”

  She and Robbie turned and started back down the hallway toward the door. From the corner of her eye, she saw him turn and glance back.

  “Well, if that don’t beat the Dutch!” he growled.

  “What are you talking about?”

  “I’ll bet you this week’s wages that Missus Patricia never sees that candy.”

  “Why would you say that?”

  “Green as grass, ya are?” he told her in a long-suffering tone. “That ol’ bag was eyen’ that sweetie like it were a piece o’ gold, she was. It’ll be gone before we get to the wagon.”

  “Well, she seemed very helpful to me.”

  He gave her another pained look. “People are what they need to be at any given time of the day,” he told her, sounding very mature and certain of his statement. In truth, it sounded like something she might have heard from the man waiting for them in the wagon. Or even Allan Pinkerton himself. Cade was right. The boy was sharp. But then, he’d had to be.

  She was pondering the validity of Robbie’s comment when he spread his arms wide and added, “Just look at us, sister dear.”

  * * *

  After she told Cade what the matron had said, and Robbie took great delight in describing the patients milling around, Cade drove Lilly to the telegraph office, where she sent William a short message telling him simply the name of the medical school in Ohio. He would know what to do.

  As she stood thinking about their inability to get into the asylum and have any sort of conversation with Patricia to gauge her sanity . . . or lack thereof, an idea leaped full-blown into her mind. Without stopping to think it through or consult her partner, she dashed off a cryptic message to Pierce.

  Consulting alienist needed as soon as

  possible for assessment. Situation serious.

  When she left the telegraph office, she was feeling quite pleased with herself. The mood lasted until she caught sight of Cade, who was wearing his usual frown. Good heavens! What had she been thinking? He would be furious with her if she told him what she’d done.

  Don’t tell him.

  Deciding that the inner voice was one she should heed, she made no mention of the second telegram. Surely Pierce would arrive within the next two weeks. There wasn’t much Cade could say about it when he arrived . . . was there?

  It was almost dusk by the time he pulled the wagon into the stable. The eventful day had taken its toll on them all. She and Cade hardly spoke on the ride home, and despite Robbie’s defiance and cockiness, he was only a little boy. Halfway to the house, she’d felt him leaning against her shoulder and saw that he was sound asleep. Being careful not to wake him, she’d eased h
is head into her lap and spent the remainder of the ride running her fingers through his tousled hair without even realizing what she was doing.

  Now she looked down at him, gauging the changes in him since he’d been discovered on the paddle-wheeler. Though he would probably always be thin, he’d gained weight and no longer looked like a half-starved waif. He was clean. Taken care of. He was still mouthy, irreverent, and brash, but he’d proven himself to be loyal to Cade and was doing his part in their roles as the Sullivan family. Not a bad improvement for such a short time. All he needed was the security of knowing someone loved him, and that he had someone to catch him when he fell.

  Something they all needed.

  She sighed and glanced over at Cade, who hadn’t said a word. His gaze was focused on the tender touch of her hands. When he looked up at her, there was an expression in his eyes she couldn’t read, a softness she didn’t recall seeing before, and his mouth, that amazing mouth beneath his heavy mustache, was curved into the barest hint of a bittersweet smile.

  Her return smile was as effortless as drawing her next breath. For a split second there seemed to be a moment when they were in complete union in thought and feeling, and all the barriers they’d erected in their lives and hearts had fallen away and there was nothing between them but the purity of that moment.

  “I’ll take him.”

  The sound of the simple statement shattered the feeling. Lilly wondered if it had been her imagination, some fanciful daydream. She nodded, and Cade lifted the boy from the wagon seat, which, of course, woke him.

  “Put me down, McShane!” he grumbled, wiggling and trying to get free. “I’m no baby to be carried around and coddled.”

  Cade set him none too gently to the ground. “Never thought you were, lad. Just trying to let you sleep.”

  “I wasn’t asleep.”

  Lilly and Cade shared another amused look over his head.

  “Come on, Robbie, let’s see if Lamartine has anything left over from supper.”

  * * *

  By the time they ate and she’d helped Lamartine clean up, Lilly was worn out, but recalling the moment with Robbie’s head in her lap, she was determined to do one more thing. Seeing the condition and scarcity of his clothes, Lamartine had given Lilly a couple pairs of pants and three shirts Bernard had outgrown, and she’d been working in the evenings to alter them for him. She’d finished the day before, but still needed to press them, which she did even though Lamartine told her they could wait another day.

  Since Lilly was insistent, Lamartine kept her company while she ironed.

  “Did you all have a good day?”

  “It was fine. We looked around, and Bran brought us ice cream. I thought of stopping by Dr. Ducharme’s office to get something for my upset stomach, but felt better after a bit.”

  The semi-truthful comment brought a considering light to Lamartine’s eyes. Then she frowned and said, “I’d be careful of takin’ anything that man prescribed.”

  Lilly didn’t have to feign her surprise. “Really? Why?”

  “He’s not much of a medical man in my opinion. He never did seem to help Miz Patricia a whole lot when she was expectin’, and my natural remedies seem to do more for Miz Fontenot than whatever it is he gives her.”

  Well, Lilly thought. That was one more thing to add to their scant pile of information about the family. “Well, it’s a good thing I started feeling better, isn’t it? It’s probably nothing more than all the spicy food I’ve been eating.”

  Lamartine placed her hands on her slender hips. “Did you ever stop and think that you might be enceinte?”

  Expecting a baby? Thank goodness Lilly knew better than that.

  “Would that I were,” she replied, concentrating on her ironing so that her friend wouldn’t see her face. “But I’m not.”

  “One of these days . . .”

  Lilly decided to change topics. “We tried to visit Mrs. Ducharme, but they wouldn’t let us see her.”

  “That was nice of you.”

  “We thought she might like to hear what was happening here, but evidently they haven’t finished evaluating her yet . . . whatever that means.”

  “Hard to say, but it was nice of you to try, since you’ve never met her.”

  “It seems to me that any sick person or shut-in would like some company, and Robbie insisted we try.”

  Again, the truth.

  The talk turned to tomorrow’s duties, and it wasn’t long before Lilly had finished the clothes. She hoped he liked them. Laying the pants and shirts over her arm, she bade Lamartine good night and went upstairs.

  Neither of the boys answered when she knocked. Figuring they were outside catching lightning bugs or doing whatever else boys did, she let herself in and laid the clothes on Robbie’s bed, arranging and smoothing them so that they were displayed to their full advantage. Then, with a sigh, she turned and went to her own room.

  * * *

  After watering the horses for the final time that night, Robbie followed Bernard into the room they shared. The first thing he saw were the clothes on his bed. Two pairs of denim trousers and three shirts were spread on the quilt.

  “Where’d these come from?” he asked, wide-eyed.

  “That’s some of my things that I outgrew. I’ve been seein’ Miz Brona busy with her scissors and needle the past few days.”

  Brona. So that’s why she’d wanted to get his measurements, Robbie thought. He touched the clothing almost reverently. He’d never had more than an extra shirt and pants before. He looked up at Bernard. “I wonder why she’d do such a thing?”

  The older boy looked at him in disbelief. “Because you need them?” he said, turning the statement into a question. “Besides, it’s what mamas do.”

  “She ain’t my mum,” Robbie snapped.

  “Maybe not, but she’s the closest thing you got.”

  * * *

  Lilly had washed up and was in bed rereading one of her favorite dime novels when Cade came in. He was much later than usual, and she couldn’t help wondering where he’d been and what he’d been doing. His wet hair and collar told her that he’d done his washing up outside, but what else had kept him? Without a word, he took the folded blankets from the end of the bed and spread his pallet on the floor.

  “I’ve been thinking about today,” he told her, sitting down on the edge of the bed. “I can easily go to the taverns and check on Ducharme’s activities, but we really need to get into the asylum if we hope to get any real sense of Patricia’s mental state. Do you have any ideas?”

  Her heart plummeted. She let her gaze drop to the book that lay in her lap, but the words were nothing but a blur. She never imagined that she’d be caught out so soon.

  “What?” he asked.

  “Ummm.”

  Without warning, she felt his calloused fingers gripping her chin, forcing her to look at him. His expression was both questioning and angry, as if some inner sense told him he would not like what she had to say. “What have you done now, lass?”

  “What makes you think I’ve done something I shouldn’t have?”

  His mouth twisted into the semblance of a smile. “I didn’t say you’d done something you shouldn’t have.” His voice was terrifyingly soft. “Did you?”

  Lilly heaved a deep sigh, knowing she had no choice but to acknowledge her actions. She pretended a calm she was far from feeling and forced herself to meet his cool blue gaze. “I thought about that very thing earlier, so while I was at the telegraph station I sent Pierce a message telling him to come as soon as possible to act as an alienist at the asylum.”

  “You did what?” Cade thundered, shoving to his feet.

  Lilly’s startled gaze flew to the doorway. Amos and Lamartine were just across the hall.

  “Sh,” she said in a harsh tone. “Someone will hear.”

  “Do ya think I care?” he said as heatedly as before. “What on earth were ya thinkin’?”

  Lilly noticed that his Irish b
rogue was more pronounced when he was angry. “The same thing you were, obviously,” she shot back in a loud whisper.

  “Without talking with me about it first.”

  Thank goodness his statement was delivered in a much lower tone. She lifted one shoulder in a half shrug. “Well, I thought it was an excellent idea, and we were at the telegraph office, so it seemed like the ideal time to do something.”

  “When did you plan to tell me? When your friend showed up?”

  Lilly stared down at her hands. “Probably.”

  “You seem to forget that we’re partners. A team. That means we work together, and that you have no right and certainly no authority to make that sort of decision without discussing it with me.”

  A memory from her brief marriage surfaced: Timothy telling her that her keeping tabs on every cent he spent was demeaning. This was not at all the same thing, but Cade’s tone was so reminiscent of Tim’s that Lilly felt that same sense of condemnation, that she’d done something wrong. Why were men so good at doing that?

  “Did ya stop and think that by telling yer friend to come and get involved you might be jeopardizing our assignment, or that he could be in danger simply by being connected to us?” Cade asked, pressing home his point.

  Of course she hadn’t thought of that. Her irritation faded in the face of the dangers he’d pointed out to her. It had never occurred to her that involving Pierce could do anything but help. Once again, she had not thought things through. She’d acted on impulse, just as she had when she’d taken it upon herself to visit one of Tim’s favorite Chicago drinking establishments alone, in the dead of night with a head injury. Not prudent at all, Lilly.

  Once more, she was faced with the realization that she had much to learn before she became the operative she wanted to be. Blast it! She owed McShane an apology. And her loyalty. But oh, did it gall her to admit it!

  “I’m sorry.”

  Cade placed his hands on his hips and lifted his gaze to the ceiling as if he were looking for patience from above. When he looked back at her, skepticism filled his eyes. “Sorry? Well, that’s easy enough to say, isn’t it, colleen?”