Patience stood and retrieved a bag from just inside the doorway. “I’ve brought you more clothing. I thought perhaps you’d like something clean.” She eyed the floor and then the straw. “Where are your clothes?”
“They took them at the beginning, I’ve not seen them since.”
Nathaniel’s face darkened. “That’s preposterous. On top of you being unfairly committed, they’ve taken your clothing? Why we should—”
Patience shook her head, stopping his words. “As you said, let’s get her home. Then we can discuss everything. All right?”
He nodded. “You’re correct, of course. “I’ll—” He pointed to the hall. “—just step out, and you can help Lydia get dressed.”
Patience moved the lantern a little closer to the wall. Lydia’s panorama appeared from the darkness. George, in his misery, stared out at them from his hiding place by some rocks. “Oh… my. Lydia, it’s… I don’t…”
“It’s depressing, yes I know. But then, so was I.”
“You’re absolutely right. Given your surroundings, I can’t say I blame you a bit. Did it help you? Even a little?”
“I can honestly say, if I hadn’t had the panorama to work on, I really might have gone mad.” She pressed her fingers to her temples, hoping to discourage thoughts of what could have occurred. “But enough of that. I’m more than ready to leave this place.” Lydia started to remove the coat but stopped when her leg chains clanked. “Wait. I’m still trapped. I need to be let out of these.” Horror at the possibility of being so close to freedom only to have it be some macabre joke at her expense made her shiver. “Please! Let me out!”
The door opened, and Nathaniel appeared. He gave a shout and then stepped out of the room. Seconds later, one of the female keepers, a kinder one, came in and crossed the cell to Lydia. She bent over, sorted through the many keys at her waist, and finally inserted one into the manacle lock.
The tiny, almost silent click sent a jolt of awareness through Lydia. It was happening. This is real. I’m being set free!
An almost giddy desire to laugh overtook her. But right before she succumbed, she pressed her fingers to her lips. No. She must contain her joy until she was safely away from Bedlam. Wait to express herself only when there wasn’t someone constantly watching her for signs of insanity.
As soon as the door closed behind Nathaniel and the keeper, Patience opened her satchel and pulled out a familiar beige day gown. It was one of Lydia’s older ones, worn and frayed at the cuffs and hem.
Patience bit her lip as she undid the buttons on the dress. “I… I hope you won’t mind. I chose this one because… I didn’t think you’d want one of your better ones until we were home and you could…” Her face turned pink.
“You did exactly right. I wouldn’t wish to ruin one of my better ones since I haven’t been able to bathe.”
Patience nodded and assisted Lydia. Though she was covered in her own sweat and grime, the cool, clean feeling of the fabric pressed against her bare skin felt heavenly. A sudden urge to go home and take a very long bath had her rushing to finish getting on her dress and boots.
But when Lydia stood, or tried to, her legs gave out. She collapsed on the floor in a heap. “Why don’t my legs work?” Panic threatened to choke the very breath from her. Her skin turned clammy, and her stomach roiled. She’d had difficulty walking when the two keepers had taken her to her treatment. Could she no longer walk at all? Doomed to a life as a cripple?
Patience widened her eyes. She didn’t let go of Lydia’s hand but turned her head toward the door. “Nathaniel, come quickly!”
He burst through the doorway like a knight on a stallion. “What’s happened?” He peered down at Lydia and then at her legs, which were stuck out in front of her, one bent, the other straightened, but turned a little to the side. “Oh, my dear girl, can’t you stand?”
She shook her head, ready to cry at any second. Wasn’t the indignity of being housed in Bedlam enough? Must she now be forever marked physically as well as mentally?
Nathaniel stooped down and placed one arm beneath her knees and the other around her shoulders. “Come along. We’ll get you home and everything will be fine.”
Lydia laid her head against her brother-in-law’s chest and closed her eyes. Even though his words were meant to soothe, she wasn’t sure things would ever be fine again.
It took both Nathaniel and the footman to get Lydia situated inside the carriage. Why did she feel like some rag-doll, all floppy arms and legs? Once there, it was only a matter of seconds before Patience sat down next to her on the seat and wrapped her arms around her, pulling her close. Lydia closed her eyes, trying desperately to convince herself that it was real. She was out of that hell and on her way home.
Home…
It seemed an eternity since the day she’d been forcefully dragged from her house and thrust into a cell. Had it altered her enough that she wouldn’t be able to adapt once again to polite society? Although, society as a whole might stay far, far away from Lydia. Once a Bedlamite, always one, or so she’d heard. The carriage clattered over street after street, the clip-clop of the horses’ hooves reminding her of how she often counted. Were there others like her? People who couldn’t help themselves from counting or tapping?
Were any of them at that very moment still ensconced within the cold, dark walls of the hospital, while she was on her way to freedom?
The carriage slowed and finally stopped. Patience patted Lydia gently on the shoulder. Was that to reassure her they were home, or had she thought Lydia had drifted off to sleep?
As Nathaniel carried Lydia from the carriage to the house, Lydia looked around. Had it really only been a few weeks since she’d been there? It was a whole other world from where she’d been lately.
Another footman rounded the corner and stopped dead when he saw them. He blinked. “Do you need assistance, Mr. Bexley?”
“Yes, please inform Nancy that we’re in need of the bath to be filled in the blue bedroom. Miss Sullyard will be staying there for a little while.”
Lydia raised her eyebrows. She would? Not that she minded. Any place was better than where she’d been, but she didn’t want to be a burden. She eyed Nathaniel’s fingers, which were gripped tightly under her legs. Surely he was tired of standing there holding her? It was on the tip of her tongue to say he could put her down. That she could walk.
But she couldn’t. Would she ever be able to again? Would things, could things go back to how they were for her before Miss Queensbury—
Don’t think about her. Because when Lydia did, it brought to mind what Stratford might have done in order to free her.
When they reached the bedroom, two footmen were pouring water in a tub for a bath. Lydia eyed the tub wistfully. She used to take bathing for granted. Sometimes in the middle of winter even forgoing it because it was so cold and she didn’t wish to be naked.
Naked.
It was hard to believe that she’d spent the better part of the last month without a stitch of clothing on. Thinking about it now, she wanted to blush. But at Bedlam, that’s just how things were. She’d had no choice in what she wore, what she ate, or even if she ate. And she definitely hadn’t been asked her preference for whether or not she wished to be chained to the floor.
Nathaniel gently placed her on a nearby chair and left the room. Lydia hated to soil not only Nathaniel’s coat as he carried her, but his coach that she’d ridden in and now his chair, as well. How she would hate to have brought something awful into his home.
But again, she had no choice. It was either that or have her brother-in-law deposit her on the front lawn and wave goodnight as he went inside. No. Nathaniel would never do that. He was too sweet. Too considerate.
Now Stratford on the other hand…
Not anymore. At least, not the way he’d been with Lydia while in her cell.
She barely noticed when Patience and the maid removed her dress and boots. The maid’s eyes widened. Patience had apolo
gized profusely at not having brought along some under things when they retrieved her from the hospital.
It hadn’t mattered. As long as they rescued Lydia from that hole, that was all she’d cared about.
She sighed as her sister, and the maid pulled her up and assisted her into the tub. The chair had been only a foot or so from the bath, so there wasn’t far for the other women to help her. Why wouldn’t her legs work? She forced the thought away as the soothing water closed over her shoulders. Things would be better the next day. They had to.
Heavenly warmth flowed over her arms and legs and kissed her chin as she used her hands to steady herself in the water. Now that she was thawing out, she realized just how chilled she had been. It was a miracle she hadn’t died of some terrible disease. Or anything else.
The beatings. The attempted rape. Near starvation. The rat.
A shudder wracked her body so hard that the water sloshed up around her ears.
“You poor dear.” Patience knelt down on one side of the tub, and the maid mirrored her on the other. “Let’s get you clean, shall we?”
Lydia nodded, too overcome with terror at what might have been and gratitude with what was. She closed her eyes as two sets of strong hands scrubbed her hair and every inch of her body. Her old self would have chastised another for being so intimate. For touching her bare skin. Leaning so close she could feel the person’s warm breath on her face. Lydia had always prided herself on being self reliant when it came to her own hygiene. Not wanting to be touched. Desiring to maintain some modicum of propriety. Keeping others at arm’s length so she could keep the oh-so-important rules she embraced.
Now, she didn’t give a rat’s arse.
Her lips curled up in a smile as she remembered the conversation with Stratford. His apology for using a term that might remind her of the rodent who inhabited her cell and her insistence that his choice of words didn’t bother her.
And they hadn’t. She marveled at how she’d changed in such a short span of time. She still couldn’t believe she was free from her bondage. But as she closed her eyes, she could still see the shadows looming large in the darkened corners of her cell, hear the clank of her leg chains, smell the stench of unwashed bodies and fear.
Would she ever really be free of that place as long as she could remember it so vividly?
Water, now cooler, was poured over her hair and face. She kept her eyes closed a moment longer and then blinked away the moisture. She peered up at Patience, who held up a towel. Without her taking much notice at all, her toilet was complete. How long had she been in the bathtub?
Her sister smiled. “All done. Ready to climb into bed, Lydia?”
“Bed? There’s still faint daylight from the window.”
“Perhaps you should rest. You have been through quite the ordeal.”
As if her sister’s words somehow set something in motion, the toll on her mind and body hit her hard, like she’d received another beating from Mr. Steele. Her eyelids drooped, and her arms hung listlessly at her sides to match her already useless legs.
The large maid came from behind and wrapped her rough-skinned hands beneath Lydia’s arms.
Lydia peered over her shoulder. “You must be strong to lift me out of the water by yourself.”
“Nonsense. You weigh no more than my sister’s ten-year-old boy.”
Was that true? She knew she’d lost some weight, but had no idea how much. Lydia waited as Patience wrapped the towel around her middle and then assisted the maid in hoisting Lydia over the edge of the tub. They each took one of Lydia’s arms over their shoulders, hung on tightly to her waist, and carried her the short distance to the bed.
Once Lydia was safely away from the edge, Patience finished toweling her dry, and the maid slipped a clean soft nightgown over Lydia’s head and arms, smoothing the fabric against her body.
The women tugged Lydia one more time until she was sitting propped up on pillows and beneath the cool, crisp sheets.
A knock sounded on the door. Patience glanced at Lydia then called, “Come in.”
Nathaniel entered, peering around the edge of the door. “Everyone well in here? Kitty was asking after Lydia. She would come in herself, but she’s feeding the baby at the moment.”
Lydia wanted to say yes, she was doing fine. That she wished to thank him for his gentle care of her as he brought her home. How happy she was to be away from that place. And be clean and in a comfortable bed. But the words died before she could form them. Her chin tipped forward onto her chest and suddenly all she wanted, the only thing in the whole world she desired, was sleep.
Chapter Thirteen
Lydia squinted against the light. Why was it so bright in her cell? Was someone holding a lantern directly in front of her face? She blinked and cautiously opened her eyes, praying it wasn’t Mr. Steele.
“You’re awake. Good morning.” Patience’s sweet expression greeted her.
Lydia rubbed her eyes, unable to figure out why her sister was with her at Bedlam. “What are you doing here?”
Patience giggled. “Well, our sister is staying here, you know.”
“What?” Lydia sat up so fast, her vision swam. She closed her eyes and rubbed her temples.
“Dearest, you’re at the Bexley Estate. Don’t you remember?”
Slowly, as if climbing up a very high, very rocky path, her memory of the day prior settled in her mind. Ah yes. They’d collected her from the hospital. Nathaniel had carried her. “My legs. I can’t—”
“Stay calm.” Patience patted Lydia’s shoulder. “The physician is here, waiting to see you. Perhaps he’ll have some insight into why you’re unable to move them. I’m sure everything is going to be fine now that you’re away from that frightful place.”
Lydia nodded, more to assure Patience than herself. How could they know that? What if she never walked again? Fear coiled around her heart, leaving icy fingers trailing through her middle. If she couldn’t walk, Stratford might never want her. “Stratford!”
“Pardon?”
Lydia blinked. Botheration, she’d said it out loud. “I… well…”
“You shouted Stratford’s name.” Patience took Lydia’s hand and pressed it, bringing back some warmth to her chilled skin.
“He… I…”
“What is it? Have you heard of something concerning him?”
Suddenly Lydia wondered if she was the last to know. That perhaps Stratford had already given in to Miss Queensbury’s demands. Hadn’t the woman said that was the only way Lydia would be released from Bedlam? “Perhaps I’m too late.”
“Late for what?”
Lydia shook her head, unable to say the words. If Stratford really was betrothed to Miss Queensbury, then it was all over. Finished. There would never be a chance for Lydia to win Stratford’s heart. She’d had so little chance in the first place, but her hopes had risen when he spent time with her in her cell. Holding her hand. Talking to her. Listening. Touching her face.
Patience squeezed her hand and leaned closer. “Something else is bothering you. Won’t you tell me what it is so perhaps I can help?”
“There’s nothing you or anyone could do.”
“Still, I’d like to know. You’ve been through so much, and if I can do something, even a small thing like listen, then I would very much like to.”
Her sister’s words reminded her of something Stratford had said while they were in her cell. That he wanted to give her some small comfort. Lydia studied her little sister. No, she wasn’t little any longer. She was a young woman. Smart, sweet, talented, and caring. “Maybe I could tell—”
A soft knock came at the door. Patience got up and hurried to open it. “Ah, Dr. Sempill. Thank you for coming.”
The older gentleman stepped inside. He nodded to Patience and walked the few steps to Lydia’s bedside. “Good day, Miss Sullyard. I understand you’ve been through quite the ordeal.”
“Yes. Unfortunately I have.”
The physician plac
ed his bag on the floor next to the bed. He looked at her face for several seconds and then reached forward to feel around her neck and chin. “May I ask how you came to have these bruises?”
Lydia’s face heated, remembering the terrible beatings and the awful night Mr. Steele had tried to—
Patience came around and sat on the other side of the bed, giving emotional support with her presence. Lydia looked at her and then back at the physician.
“You see, Dr. Sempill, I’m afraid to say that some of Bedlam’s keepers aren’t very… kind.” She cleared her throat, not wanting to go into detail.
“I see.” He frowned. With a quick side glance at Patience, he continued. “Were these… that is to say, were you injured in any other way?”
He wants to know if I was ruined. She shook her head. “No, only bruises. Nothing… nothing more.”
Patience let out a loud sigh. Had she too been afraid Lydia had been raped in the hospital?
He nodded. “I’m relieved to hear that. Very well. Your sister told me you’re having trouble walking.”
Lydia blinked back tears. “Yes.” No matter what the physician told her about her legs, she wouldn’t feel sorry for herself. She would not.
“Why don’t we help you to the side of the bed and see how you are this morning after some good rest, hmm?”
Patience hurried around to the side of the bed to stand next to the physician. She carefully peeled back the covers and smoothed down Lydia’s gown, while he gently helped her to a sitting position on the edge of the bed. He knelt down in front of her and palpated her legs, glancing up at her every few seconds to see if she was in pain. She winced a few times when his fingers came in contact with her bruises but other than that, felt no pain. But perhaps that wasn’t good. If she didn’t experience much discomfort, perhaps there was something amiss.
“Help me get your sister to a standing position, please,” he said to Patience.
“Certainly.” They each took hold of Lydia’s upper arms and gave a tug.
Color of Danger (The Sullyard Sisters Book 2) Page 10