Color of Danger (The Sullyard Sisters Book 2)

by Ruth J. Hartman

  Lydia blinked, pain jolting her eye with even that small movement. “You’d gladly do it, yet you won’t?” Her tiny moment of patience had fled, and she snapped, longing to rise up from her shackles, grab him by the shoulders, and give him a sound shaking. Couldn’t he understand how reading the message from her sister would mean the world to her and probably would only cost him a few moments of his time? Really, how taxing could that be?

  “I’m sorry.” The words floated out as the barest whisper.

  “I don’t understand,” Lydia forced out through clenched teeth. She had so little at the moment. She wasn’t asking all that much from Stratford, was she? Certainly being shoved in a cold, damp, smelly cell had skewed her view of the world at present, but it still seemed a small favor to ask of someone. He’d bothered to come to Bedlam and venture down to her cell in the basement. Reading a few lines of text wouldn’t be that difficult.

  He took a step closer, handing her the letter, although she’d already said she wouldn’t be able to read it herself. It took her three tries to grasp the paper once she’d decided which vision of it was the real one.

  Stratford lowered his eyebrows. “I wish…”

  Lydia closed her fingers around the note and pressed it to her chest, feeling like it was worth more than gold since Kitty had penned the words on the foolscap. Lydia could picture her sister, large with child, sitting on her bed as she scratched the quill across the page, writing down her thoughts. “If you have an ounce of compassion, then—”

  “I do have compassion. It’s what brought me here.” He ran his hand down his face. Was he agitated?

  “I don’t feel I’m asking for the world, Stratford. If my sister is tired from her impending birth, then I’m guessing the missive isn’t even all that lengthy. It would only take a few moments of your time.”

  He closed his eyes briefly. Was he in pain? “As I said, I wish… Please don’t ask this of me.”

  Lydia pounded her fist on her thigh, not even caring that the movement caused her blanket to part ever so slightly, revealing a patch of bare skin above her knee. “Whyever not?”

  “It’s… I…” A solid line of muscle formed along his cheek as he clenched his jaws together.

  “Then why did you even bother to come?”

  “I did as Nathaniel asked. I brought you the note.” His voice rose on the last word, then he peered over his shoulder as if afraid he’d be reprimanded for shouting.

  “But we’ve already established that I can’t read it myself. Words on an unread note are as worthless as a parasol with large holes during a thunderstorm.”

  Stratford’s face darkened. He turned abruptly and called out to someone to open the door, neither saying anything further to Lydia nor even giving her acknowledgement.

  Lydia stared, open-mouthed, as the key squeaked in the lock from the outside and the door opened. After it was slammed shut and the locked turned once more, Stratford’s rapid footsteps could be heard as he hurried down the corridor.

  Isn’t it bad enough that I’m ensconced in this hell? Couldn’t the man have at least read me the damned note?

  As angry as Lydia was, a sudden load of guilt weighed on her heart. What had she done? While it was true that he hadn’t given her the courtesy of enlightening her to the contents of the letter, he had bothered to visit her. In Bedlam. Something that, so far, no one but her immediate family had ventured to do. And she’d berated him, something she had just sworn not to do again. Why couldn’t she keep things to herself?

  To make matters worse, Lydia loved the man. If she were ever to gain release from the hospital and if Stratford would even speak to her again, could she convince him of her feelings? That what she felt for him, had felt for quite some time, was real?

  Hot tears made trails down her cheeks and ran like tiny salty rivers over her parted lips. No… She’d ruined any opportunity she’d ever had with him.

  Face it, Lydia. You never really had a chance in the first place.

  Chapter Four

  The thwack of the cell door bumping against the wall startled Lydia awake the next morning. Had Stratford changed his mind about reading her the note? Perhaps he’d had second thoughts during the night and had returned. She’d apologize profusely for causing him to leave so abruptly. Anything to get him to stay longer and spend some precious time with her.

  When Lydia glanced toward the open doorway, thrilled to notice her vision had cleared somewhat, her enthusiasm for that good bit of news dampened when she saw who stood there.

  Miss Queensbury. The vile wench who’d tried to make trouble for Kitty when she and Nathaniel were falling in love.

  Mortification settled around Lydia like her threadbare blanket. How she must appear to the haughty debutante. Would the other woman mock Lydia’s tangled hair? Bruised face? The fact that she wore no clothes?

  What does it matter? Her words can’t harm me.

  Two rapid steps brought Miss Queensbury inside the cell. Barely. She grimaced as the door shut behind her but said nothing about it. A quick smirk marred what was otherwise a flawless face. “Well, look at you.”

  Lydia sat up as straight as the chains would allow, hoping to display some modicum of good manners. Why she even cared was a mystery. She had nothing to prove to the other woman. Then why did she feel like she did? What Lydia longed to do was kick Miss Queensbury. Hard. If only the chains weren’t so restricting.

  “I see you’ve been made… comfortable.” Miss Queensbury flicked her hand in Lydia’s general direction.

  Lydia snorted. “Oh yes. Quite.” She rattled her chain three succinct times.

  “My, my. Still have the sharp tongue, I see.”

  Though Lydia had wished for a visitor to cheer her, Miss Queensbury wasn’t who she’d envisioned. “I’m not sure why you’re here, but I can’t imagine it’s for any good purpose.”

  “You sound bitter.”

  Anger coursed through Lydia. “Of course I’m bitter. Wouldn’t you be if you were trapped in here?”

  She shook her head, causing wisps of straw-colored hair to dance close to her face. “But that would never happen. I’m not mad.”

  “Neither am I!” Lydia immediately regretted the loudness of her exclamation when the other woman laughed.

  “Goodness. I see I made the right decision, after all.” Miss Queensbury smoothed her left sleeve with her right gloved hand.

  What was the woman babbling about? “What do you mean?”

  “I’ll tell you a little secret.” She gave an exaggerated wink.

  “I’m not interested in anything you have to say.” Why wouldn’t Miss Queensbury just get back on her broom and fly away? The sight of her, the thought of what she’d tried to do to Kitty, sickened Lydia down deep in her stomach. If the other woman had gotten her way, Kitty and Nathaniel would never have had a chance to be together.

  “Believe me, you’ll want to hear this.”

  With a shrug as if she cared not whether Miss Queensbury left or stayed, Lydia leveled a stare at her. “Fine. Stay and talk to me. It might help break up the monotony.” Perhaps agreeing to hear the other woman out would surprise Miss Queensbury enough to make her reconsider coming to bother Lydia. Anything to force her to leave.

  Miss Queensbury looked at the barred window set in the door, turned back, and took two more steps toward Lydia, but she still didn’t venture too close. Was she afraid she could catch something from Lydia? Miss Queensbury raised her voice as she said, “You see, my dear Miss Sullyard, I am the reason you are here.”

  She blinked. “Pardon?” Being half-starved must have affected Lydia’s good sense. She thought the other woman had said—

  “I see I have your attention. Good. I wanted you to know why you’re here and that you only have yourself to blame for it.”

  Pain shot through Lydia’s ankle as she tried to get on her knees. “What? But I—”

  Miss Queensbury held up a hand. “If you’d only stayed away from him, this never would
have happened.”

  “I haven’t the slightest idea to whom you’re referring. And I don’t appreciate you coming here and spouting off nonsense. I’d like you to leave.” Lydia started to cross her arms over her chest but decided against it when her blanket began to slip down her breasts.

  The other woman’s face reddened. Was it from embarrassment or anger? She drummed her fingers impatiently against her thigh. “You have no say in who comes and goes. Since you are, shall we say, a captive audience, you will listen.”

  Lydia let out a huff. She’d love nothing more than to scratch the woman’s eyes out. Lydia! You do sound mad. Clenching her jaws together to refrain from speaking further, she sat back down and waited for whatever it was the dreadful woman felt necessary to tell her.

  After retrieving a handkerchief from her reticule, Miss Queensbury held it up to her nose. “Heaven’s above, but it smells like something rotted to death over here. Oh. I guess it’s you.”

  Of all the — Lydia tightened her hands into fists but remained silent. Shouting at the woman could make matters worse. And the sense of satisfaction Lydia derived from it would only be fleeting at best. One-two-three-four…

  “Dear heavens. Are you… counting out loud?”

  “What? Um… no.” Five-six-seven-eight…

  “You were.”

  “I did not. I…” Nine-ten…

  “You just counted out loud to ten and denied you’d done it. But I heard you. Perhaps you really are mad. How perfectly delightful. Oh, and by the way, were you wondering why you hadn’t had visits from your sisters lately?”

  Lydia frowned. How would she have known that?

  “I paid the keepers extra money to forbid anyone with the surname Sullyard from entering.”

  That made no sense. Why would she have done that? Although, it might explain why Stratford had come when they didn’t. “Why don’t you just tell me the reason you’re here? Then you can leave and we’ll both be happier.” Not that Lydia had had one moment of contentment since she’d arrived, but it felt a little satisfying to say so.

  Miss Queensbury raised one eyebrow as she continued. “As I was saying, you only have yourself to blame for being in here.”

  Lydia longed to pummel the other woman. How dare she stroll in and throw around accusations. “Yet when you came in, you plainly stated that you were the reason. Why you’d say that I can’t for the life of me imagine.”

  “You have a point. Yes, it’s your actions that caused you to end up here, but I was the one to have you committed.” Her lips formed into a smirk.

  “You?”

  Miss Queensbury’s wide grin looked feral, predatory. “Indeed.”

  Lydia shifted on the floor, barely noticing the rattle of her chain. “Why would you—”

  “When will you Sullyard sisters learn not to take what isn’t yours?” Miss Queensbury forced through clenched teeth.

  “I still don’t understand how—”

  “Be still and let me finish. I don’t wish to remain in this horrendous pit a moment longer than necessary.” She wagged her finger at Lydia. “First, trouble from your older sister, now you.”

  “Kitty?

  At the mention of Lydia’s sister’s name, Miss Queensbury’s face darkened. “Yes. Kitty.” She nearly spat out the name. “Your sister got her hooks into Nathaniel. He was supposed to be mine.”

  That much made sense, Lydia supposed. Miss Queensbury had set her sights on Nathaniel before he married Kitty. But what did that have to do with Lydia? “While I’m sure it was a shock to lose Nathaniel to my sister, it really has nothing whatsoever to do with me. It doesn’t explain in any way why you would do something so vile as to have me committed. Was it to punish my sister?”

  “No, my dear. Not at all.” She waved her handkerchief toward the far corner that held the thin layer of straw. “Being here was a special surprise just for you. As I previously told your sister, I will tell you. My father insists that I marry one of the Bexley brothers since their property abuts his. He’s made it quite clear that I will not receive much of a dowry at all if I fail to marry one of them. And as luck would have it, the Principal Physician here at Bedlam is a very good friend of my father’s. He made it quite easy for me to have you brought here. I’d heard some gossip about you doing odd things at parties and witnessed it myself on at least one occasion. Tapping your fingers and feet, for instance. I told him about it and made the suggestion that perhaps you were a witch, just for good measure.”

  Lydia couldn’t stand it anymore. What in the world was the woman about? Not meaning to but unable to stop herself, she shouted at the top of her voice, “Who would ever do that to a person? You are surely mad!”

  “I’m mad? Perhaps you’d better check again to see which one of us can walk out this door—” Miss Queensbury pointed behind her. “—when she chooses and which is chained to the floor.”

  Fury, fast and hot, tore through Lydia. “How dare you say such a thing?”

  “Are you really so thick that you don’t yet understand why you’re here?”

  “Of course I don’t understand. There isn’t any reason.” Lydia longed to give in to a good, long cry but blinked back the moisture threatening to spill over her lower lids.

  “There’s a perfectly sound reason.”

  “Then enlighten me!” Lydia clamped her lips together after her outburst. If she kept shouting, one of the keepers might come in and punish her. No… She didn’t want that. Not again. Best to let Miss Queensbury have her say and leave.

  “Since your sister stole Nathaniel from me, and you’ve stolen Stratford…”

  “Wait. I’ve stolen no one.”

  Miss Queensbury took a step closer to Lydia. “I saw you at the Bexley party as I stood across the room. Your paws all over him. Standing so close you could have kissed him had you so chosen.”

  “That’s ridiculous. We only spoke for a moment.” However, she desperately wished that hadn’t been the case.

  “That was all part of the plan, wasn’t it? To make others think you weren’t dangling after him. So you could meet him in private for a clandestine tete-a-tete. There’ve been numerous occasions where I’ve seen you speaking with him. And you danced together at that ball. I saw you. Smiling and laughing together. Were you planning your future together? Perhaps an elopement to Greta Green?”

  “You. Are. Delusional.”

  Miss Queensbury lifted one perfectly formed eyebrow. “Again, remember who is a prisoner of Bedlam and who is not.”

  Lydia closed her eyes in frustration. When she opened them, she took a deep breath and waved her hand in a circle, indicating Miss Queensbury should continue. The sooner she finished spouting her lies, the quicker Lydia could be rid of her. Lord, give me strength to get through this.

  “As I was saying, since your sister married Nathaniel, and his youngest brother, Walter, is too young, that leaves Stratford, even though he’s a known rake.” She leaned down and pointed her finger in Lydia’s direction. “And make no mistake. Stratford will be mine.”

  “If you would only listen to me. Stratford and I spend time together, it’s true, but only because we are connected by family. Otherwise, I can’t imagine he would have anything to do with me. He has no interest in me. At all. He never has and… never will. You must believe me. If that’s why you’ve had me placed in here, then it’s all for naught. Please speak to the physician and have me released at once.”

  “You’d like that, wouldn’t you?”

  “Of course. Why wouldn’t I?”

  “No, you will stay here until…” With one gloved finger, she tapped her chin. Was she trying to decide what Lydia’s fate would be?

  Hope sparked Lydia’s mind. “Until?” Was there a way out of the hellhole?

  “When Stratford agrees to wed me, then I will have you released.”

  Pain shot through Lydia’s heart. The first reason being that if Stratford married Miss Queensbury, Lydia would never have a chance to win his hea
rt. And the second, she had no control over Stratford to force him to wed the other woman. Even if he never saw Lydia as a love interest, she’d not want him doomed to a life with that shrew.

  “I see I’ve rendered you speechless. Good.” She turned and called out to someone in the corridor. When she peeked back at Lydia over her shoulder, she was grinning. “See there, that wasn’t so hard, was it?”

  The hinges squeaked as the door opened, and Miss Queensbury left Lydia alone in her misery.

  Belated shock rolled through Lydia. She shook her head slowly, trying to piece things together. It didn’t seem possible that a person would have the connections to have an innocent person committed against her will, much less for the reason Miss Queensbury had done it.

  That conniving witch had found a way to have Stratford all to herself. After she’d observed Lydia standing close to Stratford at the party, Miss Queensbury had gone over and inappropriately grabbed him by the arm, trying to gain his attention. Miss Queensbury, not Lydia, had been the one pawing at Stratford. And she had danced with Stratford that night too, as had several other women.

  Things might have turned out differently if the stupid woman had only noticed that Stratford hadn’t paid special attention to Lydia. At all. He’d spoken to her in a polite manner, much as he’d done to the other women.

  Why couldn’t Miss Queensbury have figured that out before she’d convinced the physician of the mad house that Lydia was insane?

  What should she do now to gain her release? What could she do? If Miss Queensbury was to be believed, it would take nothing less than Stratford proposing marriage. Even if Stratford never thought of Lydia as any more than extended family, she could not in good conscience doom him to a life with that woman.

  Did that mean Lydia would then be forced to live the rest of her life in Bedlam? Suffer, starve, and… die there?