Madness

by Sorcha MacMurrough

  “Do you know what you’re doing?” Simon gasped, sounding as though he were in agony. “This will mean—”

  “Glory. Beyond my wildest dreams. And death for you at last.”

  A second voice now said, “Non. Not yet. We must follow orders a little while longer.” She heard him clear his throat and spit, and the sound of several thumps. Simon grunted in pain but did not cry out.

  “Batard. Canard.” The first man growled.

  “You ought to know, I suppose,” Simon sneered. “The pair of you are bastards. And I’ve never met a bigger bunch of cowards than the Imperial Guard. You show your moustaches and pricks and think whole armies and villages are just going to open wide to be devoured and raped. Well not any more. Wellington beat you in the Peninsula, and in your own country. Right in Toulouse. And we shall do it again if we have to.”

  “That’s it. Kill him now,” the first man ordered.

  Gabrielle rammed herself in through the partly concealed opening. “Don't touch him. Get the hell out, now! And don’t come back.”

  She met the gazes of the two nondescript-looking men as she quicky got from her knees to her feet and levelled the pistols between their eyes. Both had medium brown hair, were thin and wiry, quite tall, though not as huge as Simon. Cold grey eyes. Lethal. Surprised, but still self-assured.

  “And don’t think I won’t use them. Or that I’m not a crack shot. You got what you came for. Now leave. And leave him alone. Or believe me, gentlemen, there will be consequences."

  "Consequences, from a whore like you?" one of them sneered.

  She shot him a look as hard a slap. "Aye, from a mere woman like me. Because I heard everything, and I've seen your faces. Enough to know traitors to their country when I see them. France or England, it matters not. Anyone who wants to bring their country to the brink of war, and profit by it, is a coward and traitor. So get the hell out. And if you value your miserable hides, don't you dare return here ever again. ”

  She moved behind the door as Simon shouted for the guard. Both men shot a wary look at each other, shrugged, and called for the guard as well.

  “We’re done here," the first man growled.

  Gabrielle stood tensely waiting for them to demand of the guard what she was doing there, to give her presence away. But they stepped out of the door without a word or backward glance, and the door clanged shut.

  She pressed her ear to the door, but there was no whispering, or any form of conversation or consultation. The men's footsteps echoed down the length of the corridor to the stairs, and began to descend, while Spence the guard whistled a little tune, and then jeered that he hoped Simon had had a nice visit with his "friends."

  Gabrielle's mind whirred the whole time she was listening. She was already rapidly formulating a plan of escape. She had always known that when she left Bedlam, Simon would be coming with her. It would simply have to happen a bit sooner than she had hoped.

  So long as she could get to Antony or to her cousins, all would be well. Or to Clarissa, who had given her her address after her confession, and said to come to ever if she was ever in trouble.

  As for her sister, well, she was in danger too, but not in imminent threat of her life like Simon. She could always have someone come back for Lucinda. Put pressure on Oxnard to allow her to be released into the care of her blood relations.

  Surely Randall might be willing to pay Oxnard enough money to leave her alone, and initiate a divorce so she and the babe would be safe….

  All was soon silent in the corridor, and she heaved sigh of relief and ran over to Simon. She wiped his face free of spittle and dabbed at his cut lip.

  “Those swine. Thank God I was here—”

  He looked more wretched than she had ever known. “But they’ve seen you now. It’s all over.”

  “No surely not. They could have said something to the guard, got rid of me and slit your throat.”

  “My guess is they must think you work for our side. There aren’t too many people armed with pistols locked away in here.”

  “Our side?”

  “The English.”

  “But they were French.”

  “Oui.”

  “So what did they—”

  “I can’t tell you. I’m not even sure myself.”

  “They made you write something down. A message? In code?” she guessed.

  He immediately clapped his hand to his head in pain. She cradled his cheek against her bosom and soothed him, stroking his back and the nape of his neck as he leaned against her heavily.

  “What do we do? Should we try to escape now?” she asked, filled with misgivings.

  “No,” he gritted out. “We’d never get far with me like this, and we ought to wait for Clarissa, tell her what happened. If she turned up and we had already run—”

  “We could go to her place, leave a message there before we--”

  He shook his head. “We’re only going to get one chance. If we storm out of here pointing pistols at people, the Bow Street Runners and the authorities will be after you as well as me.”

  “But what makes you think they’ll be after you?”

  He sighed heavily. “Because I know the way my boss works. He'll want to make sure that I have no one to help me, no one to turn to. There will be a manhunt here in London, a bounty on my head, and the head of anyone who might dare to offer me assistance...”

  Gabrielle felt a cold finger of fear stroke down her spine. “Then we can’t go to Antony for help.”

  “No. I also can’t ask you to leave your sister—”

  She pulled his head away from her chest to gaze at him. “You’re not asking me to do anything. I’m offering. Trust me. It will be fine. I’ve got money and possessions. All we have to do is get out of the city, and get to my cousins in Somerset. They’ll take us in, I promise.

  "Now, Clarissa will be here soon. Let’s hope we don’t have to flee tonight, but we’ll prepare for the worst all the same. I’ll put our essentials in the small valise, and everything else we can just leave behind in Lucinda's room.”

  He nodded.

  “Did they hurt you badly?” she asked when he continued to stare at the ground dejectedly.

  “No. I’m just afraid this is the end. No matter what happens, I want you to know how much I love you—”

  She silenced him with one finger pressed to his lips. “I do know it, darling. But it’s not the end. It’s the beginning of a whole new life as soon as we get out of here, I swear it.”

  “If they kill me—”

  “They won’t. I won’t let them,” she said firmly.

  “And if you find yourself pregnant—”

  She gripped his shoulder hard to give him a little shake. “Now stop it. You have no need to worry about anything. My family are lovely, you’ll see. Better than I deserve considering what a horrible man my brother was.”

  “And Lucinda and the baby—”

  “Will be fine, I promise you," she said firmly, picking up the valise to start packing her medicines for Simon. "We’ll all be fine. You have nothing to worry about. I’ve fought far too hard for our love to let them win. In a few more days we’ll be in Somerset, I swear it. We just can’t lose our nerve. All right?”

  “All right,” he said with a nod and a sigh. “Let’s get ready to head off to our new life together."

  She smiled up into his handsome face. "That's the spirit." She thrust the weapons into his hands.

  “Here, you stand at the ready with the pistols behind the door, just in case. Let me just get those shirts off the wash line….”

  Chapter Nineteen

  All was well with Simon and Gabrielle in his cell until five that evening, when the guard, just coming up for air after the talented Angela had kept him entertained for a goodly while, opened the door and presented him with a tray of food fit for a king.

  “Well, well, what have we here?” Spence said. “Brought straight from one of the local eateries while it was still hot. What a fe
ast."

  Simon stared at the repast in blank incomprehension. Eventually he recognized the long-forgotten delicacies. There was roast chicken with stuffing, applesauce, vegetables, even a creme brulee and some meringues.

  But Simon could sense something was amiss at once and pushed it away. “I can’t eat it. I’ll only be sick. You’ve been looking after me so well, you have it.”

  Spence shook his head, though it was easy enough to see he was sorely tempted by the sumptuous feast. “Oh no, really, I couldn’t. This is just too good for the likes of me. I suppose your family must be coming around to you after all? I mean, the women and the food and all?”

  “No, I don’t think so. If they were, the food would choke me. No, you tuck in. I insist,” Simon said, even though he knew he was sending the unsuspecting man to his death.

  Life and death. Imprisonment or escape. Safety or danger.

  “Thanks, mate. You’ll be sorry, but I just can't say no--”

  “No regrets here, my friend.”

  He backed out the door with the tray. “You’ll be sorry, I’m sure, but I can’t bear to see such good food go to waste.” He closed the door and locked it, and Simon said a prayer for his soul.

  As soon as he was gone Gabrielle put her head in through the hole.

  “Are you thinking what I’m—”

  He nodded.

  “What are we going to do?”

  “We need to think. I’m sure that food was poisoned, or at least drugged with something else besides opium. They might be wanting to kill me, or will be coming shortly to take me away, to God knows where. I know it’s hard to believe, but I could end up in an even worse place than here.”

  She knew he was right, and did not even try to argue. “Then it’s definitely time to leave.”

  “But what about your sister?” he asked worriedly.

  “I’ve already decided. My cousins will help. We’ll bribe her husband, try to get her out of here, get her a divorce. She’s ill, but not in danger at the moment. We can alway come back for her, and Clarissa will be happy to keep visiting...”

  Gabrielle choked off her words mid-sentence when the most God-awful caterwauling arose from her sister’s chamber. Gabrielle ducked back into the cell and scrambled off her hands and knees, looking all around her.

  Lucinda was lying still and silent in bed as was her wont, but Gabrielle gazed in horror at the twitching bundle of fur on the floor. It thrashed about once more in agony and then lay still.

  “Oh God, Kit!” she gasped.

  She knelt down and picked up the lifeless animal, only inches from the food tray which had been delivered to Lucinda, and contained roast chicken and stuffing also.

  “Kit? Kitty?” Lucinda asked, rousing from her slumber at the commotion, unable to grasp what had happened.

  Gabrielle sighed, blinking back the tears. “It’s all right. Kit caught something, but he’s gone to sleep now. You should too.”

  She stared at the chicken, saw the tiny teeth marks. She felt her heart hammering in her chest and sweat break out underneath her arms and all along her spine.

  My God, they had not only tried to kill him, but her sister too, in order to make sure there had been no witnesses to anything Simon might have said or done in the time he had been there. And her lover had just given his tray to Spence the guard…

  She scanned the pile of things they had left in Lucinda's room quickly, stuffed a few more items into their now bulging valise, and said, “I’ll be back soon, Lucinda. You just sleep, all right? And don’t eat a thing. Promise me.”

  “Yes, Gabrielle,” she said obediently. “I promise.” She lay flat and closed her eyes.

  Gabrielle tucked the poor dead kitten inside a pillow ticking, and hid it under the bed, then ducked back through the hole.

  Simon was immediately on the other side of the wall, looking panicked, and asked what had happened.

  “Her kitten. It’s dead, Poisoned. The same type of dinner you had. The poor thing nibbled the chicken and well--” She took a ragged breath and shook her head.

  Simon’s eyes widened, and he swayed. “Oh God, that was so close. We need to get out of here. But how—”

  “Clarissa will be here soon. Pray God she isn't late."

  "Aye. It wasn't a drug, it was poison. They'll be here soon enough to make sure they've done their work. We need to be gone by the time they get here.”

  "We just have to stay calm and make the most of the time we do have," she said firmly, as she gathered the last of her herbs and medicines into a basket and a few more changes of linen. “We just need to pray she gets here soon, and that she can get a key to be let in. Because I think we've just killed Spence as well. So for the moment, my love, we're all well and truly trapped.”

  Simon paced up and down, agitated almost beyond endurance. He clutched the pistols so tightly she had to pry them from his fingers and put them at the top of the basket she had also packed in preparation for their escape from Bedlam.

  To her infinite relief, a few minutes later she heard her friend’s brisk trot, and was just about go into Lucinda’s cell to tell her what happened when she heard a male voice accost Clarissa.

  Both Simon and Gabrielle held their breath.

  “Miss,” Spence said. “I say, Miss, I’m feeling awful. You’re a nurse. Anything I can take for food that’s too rich?”

  Clarissa was about to reply when Spence began to retch violently.

  “Gabrielle!” Clarissa shouted.

  She looked out the peephole and saw him began to foam at the mouth and convulse.

  “Clarissa, keys, quick. They’ve tried to poison them both.”

  “What, Lucinda too?” she gasped.

  “Aye. We need to get out of here.”

  “We can’t just leave—”

  “He’s nearly dead already. They killed Kit too."

  "What?" she asked, pausing mid-search to stare up at her.

  "Hurry. Kit nibbled the food intended for my sister, poor mite. So no more buts. Grab his keys and get Simon’s door open. We need to get out of here, all of us. They’ll be coming soon. We have only two pistols and Lucinda isn’t in good shape. Come on, hurry.”

  Clarissa yanked the keys off the writhing man's belt, and with trembling hands tried key after key until she found the right one.

  Gabrielle crawled through into Simon's cell, dragged the body in, and then shut the door. She quickly began to strip off Spence’s clothes.

  “Simon, get undressed. Put these on. Hurry.”

  She handed him the wool trousers, jacket, waistcoat and shirt, discarding the dirty cravat. All the while, poor Spence continued to convulse and vomit.

  "I'm sorry, so sorry, sir," she tried to apologize.

  "Not your fault, lass," he wheezed and choked. "Get him out of here. No one deserves to be treated like this, no matter what they say he did. I'm sorry too.

  His stertorious breathing slowed, and with one last huge convulsion, he lay still.

  By that time, Simon was already changed, and grasped the basket they had readied, both pistols in easy reach. He handed it to Clarissa. “Anyone comes down that corridor and looks at you the wrong way, shoot them. And I hope you know how to reload.”

  “Trust me. I do.”

  He grabbed Spence and put him in the cot, hauling his discarded shirt and trousers over his bareness. He lay him down under the blanket with his sandy hair covered, so that he looked for all the world as if he were Simon asleep in his bed.

  "Go look in Lucinda's room to see if there's anything else you need. Clarissa, go around the other way, and find the key to get the door open."

  "Aye."

  Simon heard her jangling the ring and door lock, trying key after key as if her life depended on it.

  He looked around the room for any last minute essentials, and Gabrielle did the same.

  “All set. Nothing left behind to give away that you were in there with me. I’ll get Clarissa to lock the door once we're out."r />
  "Got it," they heard from the other side of the wall.

  "Good girl, Clarissa," he called. "Lock my door again. We're coming through the wall. Go on, love."

  He gave her a pat on the rump, and followed on close behind. Then he turned and grabbed the leg of his cot, and pulled with all his might, covering the hole between the cells, leaving poor Spence looking as though he were sleeping facing the wall with a pillow over his head.