Color of Danger (The Sullyard Sisters Book 2)
Page 3
The woman lumbered past and motioned him to follow. Patients’ shrieks mingled with maniacal laughter when Stratford passed by. As Stratford followed the matron down one corridor then another, he hoped that none of the people trapped inside the cells would be able to reach through the rusty bars of the small windows and touch him. He shuddered at the possibility of coming in contact with any of them. Would they be contagious with some terrible disease? Or be dangerous and wish him harm? He hunched his shoulders and kept his hands close to his sides.
Without meaning to or even intending it, his gaze wandered to the left. A wild-haired old woman clung to the bars, her long, filthy nails scraping against the metal. To his horror, eye contact was made. The woman shrieked, and Stratford jumped. But the matron he followed never even hesitated or turned her head.
What must it be like to work there? Be so used to its sounds, sights, and smells that a person didn’t even notice abhorrent behavior? He never wanted to find out.
But what of Lydia? She was trapped in the place. Had been for weeks if his vague memory served. Had she grown used to it? Reconciled herself to the fact that she was stuck there for the unforeseeable future?
Once he’d reached Lydia, would Stratford be required to get very close to her? Walk very far into her cell? Actually place the note from her sister into her outstretched hand?
Get a hold of yourself.
With a sharp rap of his fist against his thigh, he scolded himself. Come, now. You’re made of stronger stuff than that.
But was he?
His whole life, he’d acted the part of someone he in actuality was not. A good student in school. A loyal son. A gentleman in the presence of ladies as an adult. How difficult would it be to pretend the damp, musty, noisy, smelly sensations didn’t bother him?
Time to find out.
The matron finally stopped in front of the last cell on the left. Considering the distance they had walked, that particular cell must have been the furthest from the entrance. She put the large metal key in the hole and turned, the squeak of protest echoing around the stone walls and floor, sounding like the door was unaccustomed to being in operation.
After grabbing a lantern that hung on a nearby hook, she thrust the lamp into Stratford’s hands. He’d barely had time to make sense of what she was doing when she flung the door open and moved aside.
With a thumb pointed over her wide shoulder, she said, “There’s Miss Sullyard, sir. Give a yell when you’re through.”
When I’m through? Stratford gave the woman his haughtiest glare. Surely she wasn’t going to leave him there. In the cell? With the door closed?
The woman tilted her head to one side and frowned. “Are you going in or not? I haven’t got the whole of the day to stand here. Patients to toss food at. Keepers to scold.”
Remembering Nathaniel’s fervent plea that the letter be delivered, Stratford swallowed hard, gave a nod, then stepped into the small, dim enclosure. The thump of the door slamming shut behind him and the squeal of a turning key nearly gave him an apoplexy. He whirled around to stare at the cracked wood. Good heavens, he was locked inside!
“Who’s there?” Lydia’s weak voice, reaching Stratford from somewhere to his left, came out sounding like the rusty hinge of an old gate.
Stratford let out a breath and turned back. He swallowed hard and squinted, his eyes adjusting to the murky light of the room. “It is I, Mr. Bexley, er.. Stratford.”
A gasp came from over by the wall sounding like a hiss of a candle being snuffed out. “Why are you here?”
The light from the lantern in his hand wavered across the floor as he took a hasty step back, his shoulder bouncing off the wall. Of all the nerve. He’d come to do the gel a service, and she had the audacity to be rude? “I’ve come with a note. From your sister.”
“Oh, I—” The rest of her words were swallowed up in Lydia’s coughing fit, her breath coming out sounding dry and harsh. Didn’t they give the patients enough water to drink?
“Would you care to read it?” Stratford hated taking even one more step inside the disgusting cell. Who knew what resided on the floor? If only he could have had one of the hospital workers deliver it to her instead. But Nathaniel had been clear on that point.
“Please forgive my impertinence, Stratford.”
Since they were extended family, Kitty had insisted on all of them using their Christian names when together. Still, it felt odd having Lydia use his. “Under the circumstances, I think you’re allowed an impertinent moment or two.”
She wheezed out a shallow laugh. How could she find levity in that corner of hell? He dared to hold the lantern higher, intent on only seeking out her form to view her better, but it was impossible not to notice the surroundings too. Dark stone on the walls and floor glistened with dampness from the ground directly outside. The room, only a few feet square, held a thin layer of straw in the corner. Was that where she slept? Like some goat in a stable? The pale light glinted off of something near the floor. A grey metal band encircled Lydia’s bare ankle, the dark color in sharp contrast to her white skin. A chain attached to the shackle was affixed to a metal loop in the stone.
He couldn’t take his eyes from the monstrosity. He’d heard of them, of course, but never thought to actually witness someone ensconced in one. It was several seconds before he realized that except for a blanket drawn around her shoulders that went to just past her knees, Lydia might very well be naked. From the times he’d been around her, Lydia always seemed quite the prim and proper miss.
At least, she used to be.
Stratford blinked. He’d not even imagined what a patient might or might not wear, just assumed they wore their own attire. There he stood in a closed cell with a naked woman. While it was true he was a rake, it had always been with select women and had taken place at the private venue of his choosing.
What if someone he knew recognized him leaving the cell? Would they accuse him of doing something inappropriate? Lydia wasn’t some light-skirt who cared not for her reputation. If Stratford were accused of something with her, would he be pressured into marriage?
“If you wouldn’t mind, could you come a little closer?” said Lydia, startling him out of his reverie. “I haven’t had much light in the room for a couple of days since I’ve not had visitors. I find that too much darkness only adds to the depressive nature of the place.”
Stratford, you fool. Worrying about propriety at a time like this. “Certainly. Forgive my…” He wasn’t even sure how to phrase his thoughts. How odd to address a woman with formality when she was sitting on the floor, nearly naked.
Lydia turned a little to the side, her chain rattling. “Please, don’t think a thing of it. Obviously, there is no polite society here. The rules no longer apply.”
Rules. Rattling chains. Patients without proper clothing. The only rules here are as barbaric as one might find at the zoo.
As he cautiously stepped forward, the dim light caressed Lydia’s face. An angry, red welt was raised beneath one eye, and a dark bruise had taken up residence at the base of the opposite cheek. She’d been beaten! Rage, sudden and fierce, caused him to nearly drop the lantern. What had she ever done to deserve such treatment?
“As bad as all that, is it?”
Lydia’s words made him realize that his mouth hung open. Snapping it closed, he took a deep breath to rein in his anger. Bad decision. The stench of the place almost knocked him flat. “No, it’s—”
“Don’t bother to lie. I can see it on your face even here in the near-darkness. I look hideous.” She tugged the blanket tighter around her chest and tried to curl her feet beneath her. However, the blasted chain stopped her short.
He set the lantern down on the floor, intent on trying to be of some help. Could he move the chain a little so she could find some comfort? He’d previously had the idea as a joke, but seeing her now in such discomfort made him want to be of assistance. With his hand outstretched, he again forced away the thought that she wa
s naked beneath the blanket. Focus on trying to help her. Don’t worry about—
She held up one hand. “Stop.”
He stilled instantly. “Pardon?”
“I’ve a cramp in my lower leg. Moving the chain won’t help.” She raised sad, dark eyes in his direction. “But thank you for… for trying.”
A sudden longing to wrap her in his arms and give her comfort overtook him. Where had that come from? When had he ever cared about anyone besides himself? Would she even welcome a warm embrace from someone of her extended family, especially since he was a known rake? In the past, the times he’d spoken with her, he’d felt her censure, much like a governess would scold a wayward ward. Now she seemed helpless and vulnerable.
He glanced behind her. She’d drawn something on the wall. It was a bedraggled-looking cat with a sad expression. Was it the same animal he’d seen hanging around his parents’ house lately?
Lydia angled around to look at the wall. “Not a very happy scene, I realize. But it does keep me occupied. Too bad I can’t actually have my sister’s cat here for company.” She looked back at him and tilted her head, her long dark hair falling across the milky white expanse of bare skin above the clutched blanket. “How were you able to gain admittance to my cell? Kitty, Nathaniel, and Patience all had quite the time convincing the matron that they were indeed my family.”
Stratford gave a humorless chuckle. “I told them I was your brother.”
She widened her eyes then closed them for a moment and grimaced. Had the action caused her pain?
“Well, I am… of a sort.” He shrugged. He too, had doubts about the matron believing his fabrication. Money did indeed speak its own language.
Lydia nodded. “Yes, I suppose you are. Either way, I’m very glad you’ve come.”
He rubbed his chin with one hand. “Oh and… I bribed the keeper. Quite well.”
“Thank you for that too. I’ve wondered why no one had been here for the last couple of days.”
“Nathaniel, per the physician’s orders, is staying close to Kitty until the baby comes. Apparently, the last two times Patience tried to gain entrance, she was denied. No one seems to know why. I was actually surprised I was able to come in.”
Lydia let out a sigh, sounding relieved. With eyes that appeared larger than he’d remembered, she looked at his coat pocket. “You mentioned a note?”
He’d nearly forgotten. “Yes. From Kitty.” After retrieving it, he held it out to her. But she didn’t take it, instead keeping her fingers clutched around the edge of the blanket.
“Would you mind terribly reading it to me?”
He bit the inside of his cheek to keep from shouting out his answer. No.
Lydia rubbed her hand over her eyes. “You see, I’m afraid I’m seeing double at the moment. Reading small print would be out of the question. A pesky result of being beaten again last night, I’m afraid.”
Again? How could she state it so calmly? So nonchalantly, as if it occurred every day. Perhaps it did. The poor girl. If only he could help. Stratford would give all of his worldly goods to read her the note and bring her some comfort. My goodness, altruism has crept up on me since entering her cell. Where was his brashness, his goal to fulfill only his own selfish whims?
“Stratford? Could you? It would mean the world to me to hear my sister’s thoughts from her own hand.” Lydia peered up at him and waited.
Right at that moment, he wished he could run away and hide.
Chapter Three
Lydia frowned. Why wasn’t Stratford reading her Kitty’s note? Did he already know what it contained? Perhaps it was bad news. Her heart thumped erratically. “Please, I must know. Won’t you read it to me?” She balled her hands into fists, trying not to let her imagination run away with her. Forcing herself to concentrate on only one of his two blurred images, Lydia stared up at him.
He let out a deep sigh. “I’m sorry to say… no.”
“Why not?” Her voice came out as a yell. She slapped her hand over her mouth, which jarred her already sore cheek. “P-pardon me. It’s just that I…” Tears, unbidden, pooled in her eyes.
Don’t cry. You mustn’t in front of him. He might already think her a fool if she went by his reactions to her during their few conversations. To have him think even less of her now would be a terrible blow. Lydia wasn’t sure how much more she could take. It was bad enough that the man she cared for had seen her in such disarray, nearly naked, half-starved, face beaten and swollen. Tears would only make her feel worse. If that was possible.
He cleared his throat and then glanced briefly over his shoulder at the closed door. Did he want to leave? Not that she could blame him. Why would anyone ever choose to be in that pit? Lydia certainly hadn’t.
Every day since she’d been thrown in the cell, she wished to be anywhere else, because try as she might, her imagination couldn’t conjure any place on earth that could be worse. Luckily for Stratford, he could vacate the awful place whenever he chose. Would she ever be so fortunate? Be allowed to walk away from the mental anguish, pain, and loneliness?
“Lydia…”
She closed her eyes and prayed for strength not to erupt in another outburst. “You can say whatever you like to me. Bad news would at least be news. Then I wouldn’t sit here imagining the worst. And if you were to tell me something negative about my family, it isn’t like I could rise from the floor to stop you from speaking.” She gave her foot a little shake, rattling the chain. “Even if it’s something you think I might not want to know. Please read me my sister’s note.” Why was he so reluctant to tell her what was bothering him? “Is… is it bad news? If so, you must tell me. I do so long for news, any news of my sister and her child.” As she babbled on, Lydia knew she might indeed sound as mad as the keepers at Bedlam had claimed her to be, but she was desperate. If no information was forthcoming, she feared she might shatter.
“Kitty is fine at the moment, as is the babe.” His shoulders slumped. But he’d given her good news. Was there something he still wasn’t telling her?
Lydia let out a long breath. At least the most pertinent news was positive. “Saints be praised.” Her heart crashed painfully against her ribs, the intensity of her feelings refusing to give way to calm. After another long, deep gulp of air, her shoulders drooped and her mind wasn’t quite as jumbled.
A scream came from down the corridor, and Stratford jumped. His Adams apple moved quickly up and down. After swallowing hard, he said, “She’s staying with my parents at their home. Nathaniel felt it might be better since he and Kitty only have a couple of servants at their small house, and at the Bexley estate, she could get more care. The physician wishes her to stay in bed until after the baby is born. Kitty’s so distraught at the notion that something might go wrong, Nathaniel and Patience are staying with her at all times to help keep her calm. Your Great Aunt Anne is there sometimes, sometimes not. I guess whenever the mood strikes.”
That didn’t surprise her about her great-aunt. The woman had always done only as she pleased. If Kitty was under the physician’s orders not to get out of bed again and Nathaniel was compelled not to leave her side, perhaps that explained why Lydia had not seen them. That was something, at least. Wasn’t that how it should be? That Kitty’s husband would keep to home for her sake and the safety of her unborn child?
How Lydia wished she could be there too. Kitty had spoken to her often of her dreams for her child. How she couldn’t wait to be a mother and give a son or daughter to Nathaniel. “So, for now at least, everyone is fine?”
He nodded and tapped his boot on the floor at the same time, the sound like quick pattering of raindrops on a windowpane. Was he in a rush to leave?
Please stay, at least a little while longer. Human contact is a rare luxury these days. At least, contact with someone who didn’t want to harm her.
She hadn’t wished for him to see her in such a sorry state, but now that he stood just a few feet away, Lydia was loath to have him go.
For a young lady who’d always scolded everyone around her for every little thing, Lydia found that she now wished she could take back every word of a negative nature she’d ever uttered to her sisters or anyone else. How many times had she berated Kitty for innocent flirting? Or Patience for playing with the cats instead of helping around the house? When she first met Nathaniel, she’d given him the evil eye after he entered into harmless flirtation with her. Even Stratford hadn’t escaped her haughty demeanor. What must they all think of her?
Before being housed in Bedlam, her life ahead had seemed a long, endless road of possibilities. But now… now the realization that anything could happen to any person without their consent or approval hit hard. Oh, to have that time back with her sisters. She’d be kinder. Less critical.
Forcing her voice to stay at a reasonable pitch, Lydia asked, “Then why the hesitation to read me the letter? Is it because it’s something private you’d rather not know? Trust me, if you can stand to read Kitty’s private thoughts out loud to me, I won’t mind in the least that you’ll know them. Being in this place has already stripped me of all privacy.”
She clutched the blanket tighter and waited. Her fingers were getting numb from holding the fabric so tight, but she had no alternative. Not while the man she secretly desired, who cared not for her, stood but a few feet away.
Light from the lantern danced across her face and then away as she blinked. Why was Stratford’s hand shaking? Was he nervous about something? Be honest, Lydia, simply being here is enough to frighten a grown man. When she’d first been tossed into her cell, every little noise sent her nearly through the roof in terror. She understood what he might be feeling.
He shook his head slowly. “It’s not that. I… I would gladly read it but..” Through the small halo of yellow rays from the lamp, Stratford’s eyes were visible as they moved quickly from side to side. It was as if he longed to focus on anything but her. Could she really fault him? Surely she appeared as unattractive as a crazy old hag.