She looked down and found herself in a clean nightgown, her nails scrubbed free from dirt, the scent of lavender coming from her skin. She rubbed her fingers together, finding the silky texture of cold cream. Her cheeks warmed. “Who—?”
“Mother’s lady’s maid.” He dropped his gaze, his cheeks also tinting.
His heightened color made her want to giggle at the thought of Raoul Banebridge feeling embarrassed.
A throat cleared from the darkened corner of the room and Mrs. Banebridge approached the bed carrying something white in her arms. “My dear girl, we were so worried about you. We didn’t know what had become of you when you disappeared. I thought Raoul would fret himself mad.”
Edyth gave a weak smile. Mrs. Banebridge had always treated her as another daughter, and now, Edyth could hardly believe that she actually was by law.
Mrs. Banebridge leaned down and handed her the tiny, mewing fluff.
“Michelangelo?” She nestled her nose in the kitten’s fur and sighed, her heart mending just a bit as the kitten licked her chin. “I thought my aunt would have disposed of you right away.”
“She tried, but I snuck inside and fetched him, Leo, Raphael, and Edgar out in time.”
She reached for his hand. “It seems I will have an endless list of thank-yous to give you.”
“Oh, there’s more where that came from.” He grinned. “And I plan on telling you the moment you are ready to hear everything I’ve done for you. Including, rescuing your sketchbook.” Bane pulled it from his coat and rested it in her free hand.
“It’s so warm,” she replied, stroking the worn cover.
“I’ve kept it with me constantly, except for a brief time when I lent it to Jude. No telling who he showed it to.”
“What?” She sat up, her wound protesting.
Mrs. Banebridge laughed. “Raoul, don’t tease her. Now, I’ll send up the soup. You two sit still and rest.” She rustled out of the room, closing the door behind her.
Edyth’s stomach rumbled to life with such a vengeance, it frightened the kitten. She was starving.
Bane lifted her palm and pressed a warm kiss onto it. “The doctors said that despite your ordeal, you are strong and will heal quickly. They must have said at least a dozen times that it was quite the miracle that the bullet passed through without doing more damage or that you did not incur a fever as a result. We are lucky.”
“Well, I don’t know about lucky. My uncle was never a very good shot.” She sent him a wink to ease the creases between his brows. “But in all seriousness, I am thankful the Lord saved me once more.”
A knock at the door sounded, and slipping from the bed, Bane opened the door enough to take the tray from the maid. He closed the door with his boot, the dishes rattling in his unsteady hands.
Edyth smiled at her husband’s balancing the tray as he carefully crossed the room and set it on a side table with a clatter.
“You most likely don’t remember, but I fed you soup for the past few days, even though you clamored for cherry pie.”
“Pie sounds lovely, especially with a little browned crumble on top.” She licked her lips that were no longer chapped. She would have to thank the maids for their attentiveness.
“But soup will do for now,” he said, giving the folded napkin a snap and tucking it under her chin.
Sitting up, wincing slightly at the stitches pulling again, Edyth moved to take the bowl from Bane, but he clicked his tongue and lifted a spoonful, blew on the liquid, and brought it to her lips, the rich broth bringing life to her weary body. The soup dribbled onto her chin, but Bane reached out and wiped it with his handkerchief with such tenderness that it made her stomach do a strange flip. She brushed the tips of her fingers along his jawline, loving the ruddiness of his unshaven skin and reveling in the fact that it was not improper for her to wish to do so any longer.
Bane caught her hand in his and lifted her fingers to his lips, sending her pulse to pounding as the gravity of what just happened pressed on her. She had married the man she longed to for years and wed him with the stench of the asylum upon her. He must really love me. Despite the throbbing in her shoulder and her weakened state, Edyth was truly happy. She was free—for now—and that thought threatened the contents of her stomach. “What happened to my uncle? Is there any reason to believe they will take me again?”
“Don’t worry.” He pressed another kiss along her fingertips before returning to the soup and lifting a spoonful to her lips. “You are safe, and I am hoping to take you away as soon as you can speak with your lawyer. Mr. Pittman will be here in about an hour and a half.”
“Mr. Pittman? I haven’t seen him since I was a girl.” After my parents’ death, she added silently.
“Mr. Pittman was quite disheartened to hear of your ordeal and thinks we have a strong case, especially since Wentworth had too much to drink again at his dinner party last night and told him enough to get himself suspended from practice if reported.” He shook his head. “He won’t be, of course, because of his old family name, but it gives us rather an advantage.”
“I’m eager to speak with Mr. Pittman and put this behind us, but uh …” She glanced down at her frilly nightgown. She would have to dress. She lifted the covers to her shoulders, giving a little shiver to disguise her shyness, the shiver costing her as the stitches tugged yet again. Would she ever be free from pain? “I think I am well enough, but you may have to carry me down the stairs.”
“Any excuse to hold you is fine by me,” he replied, giving her a roguish grin.
Now it was her cheeks that warmed at this new side of her dear friend. “I don’t think I mind you holding me either,” she admitted, dipping her head.
He leaned in and pressed his forehead to hers and waited for her to meet his beautiful jade eyes. “Mrs. Banebridge, if you did mind, I think we might have an issue, with us being married and all.”
Giggling, she set Michelangelo on the pillow next to her and lifted the covers. She attempted to move her legs but found them to be shockingly weak. It was rather disturbing how quickly one’s body could deteriorate.
“Let me help you,” he said, moving aside the rest of the quilt. With gentle hands, he lifted her bare ankles and helped her twist so her legs were hanging off the bed. “Would you like to try to stand?”
“I don’t trust my limbs at the moment, but with more food, I should be wielding my sword soon enough.” She gave a soft laugh to hide her displeasure over the state of her hard-earned muscles.
“Let’s get you back down,” he said, and slowly lowered her to her pillow, placing her legs on top of the comforter this time. “I would prefer for you to wield your paintbrush for the next few months. However, the doctor said you could attempt a few light exercises in four to six weeks to help you regain your strength before you attempt to return to your full fencing lessons. Now, you have three bites left, Mrs. Banebridge.” He lifted the spoon to her lips, her portions coming quickly now as if to stave off any protest.
“Because you are my husband, I suppose I should agree with you … at least until I regain my strength. For now, I will be content to be doted upon.” The bowl empty, she leaned back, surprised to find herself exhausted from the effort of eating such a small meal, but her stomach still rumbled. “Did the doctor say anything about pie? I long for a flaky crust with a sweet cherry filling.” Her mouth watered as if it were before her.
He laughed and rose. “I can see what he has to say about that. Is there anything else you wish for while I relay the message?”
She felt the color rise in her cheeks. “Well, I’d love to have a bath drawn before I see anyone. I appear to be clean enough now, but until I am aware of the scrubbing, I don’t think I’ll ever feel clean.”
He scooped up the kitten, holding it in one arm. “Certainly, but the doctor was very clear that you are not to get your dressings wet. Rest a moment, and Michelangelo and I will send two maids in to help you from the bed to the tub.”
With
in a half hour, Edyth found herself in a luxurious bath with bits of lavender and scented soap. A soft moan escaped her at the clean water against her skin, but when it was time to do her hair, she found her heart pounding at the thought of plunging her head under the water. But instead, one maid positioned her hands over Edyth’s wounded shoulder as the other slowly poured the warm water over her tender scalp. She then applied the luxurious soaps to Edyth’s hair, removing every trace of Blackwell’s Island with a precise and gentle hand.
Wrapped in a pink silk dressing robe borrowed from Bane’s mother, Edyth did not possess the strength to sit up at the vanity. Instead, she sprawled atop the tufted settee as the maid combed through her hair as gently as she could manage while another worked on her nails, shaping them into perfect ovals before rubbing Edyth’s arms and feet with cold cream, murmuring over the state of her poor bruised skin. Pity radiated from their touch and words, but they treated her with such kindness, Edyth did not mind. Had it really only been days that she’d been trapped on the island from Hades?
She glanced into the gilded looking glass as the maid formed a braided coronet with her damp locks. Her cheeks were so sunken that she appeared to have been trapped on the island for months. But she supposed starvation would do that to anyone, and with the thought of food, her stomach sparked to life once more.
The maid splayed a hand over her chest. “Oh miss! Forgive me, I was supposed to ring for a tea cart with sandwiches and pie once you were out of your bath.” She crossed the room and pulled the bell, murmuring her apologies until the cart appeared.
Pie consumed, along with a few sandwiches, and dressed in a corset-free satin gown of her favorite color, Edyth spread her crimson skirts on the settee and picked up her sketchbook while she waited for her husband to join her.
Bane stood in the doorframe with his arms crossed and studied his wife as she sat with her feet propped up, sketching away. “I can’t believe I’m married to such a stunning woman.”
“Oh!” She started, dropping her pencil. “Well, being clean can improve anyone’s looks … even when one is as battered as I.”
Crossing the room, he knelt and returned her sketchbook to the side table before wrapping her in his embrace and gently sweeping her in his arms, her skirts trailing down over his arm.
She studied him, tilting her head as she bit her lip.
“What is it? Does this make you feel uncomfortable?”
“I must say I have always wanted to do this.” She reached out and, with both hands, raked her fingers through his shoulder-length blond hair. “Your hair is meant to be adored, good sir, and often.”
Bane grinned at her and nestled his nose into her hair. “And I this, now that you have finally bathed. Your matted hair kept reminding me of that time when you went weeks without washing after our fencing bouts.”
Her jaw dropped as their passionate spark sputtered into laughter at his teasing. “For your information, I was on strike. If my mother and father did not discharge that horrible governess who rapped my knuckles every time I uttered a word out of turn, I would not bathe. It took a month, but my stench at the dinner table, after our lessons, wore them down eventually.” She shrugged and added, “And who knows, I may have to pull the same stunt if you get out of hand and start demanding I turn in my rapier. You should know that while I consider homemaking to be one of the most noble professions, it is not in my nature to wait upon you at home while you work.”
He threw his head back and laughed. “You keep mentioning your sword. You should know me well enough to know that I’m not the type of husband who would demand you stop doing what you love.”
Edyth stroked his cheek with the back of her hand before returning her fingers to his hair. “I’m sorry. It’s an old worry of mine.”
He kissed the tip of her nose. “I knew you chose not to marry all those years for some reason.”
Edyth laughed and rolled her eyes. “The reason, my dear, was that I was waiting on you to notice me.”
He rested his forehead on hers. “Thank you for waiting.” He sighed. “And as much as I would rather stay tucked away up here with you, we best be on our way, Mrs. Banebridge, to speak with Mr. Pittman.”
“I suppose. The sooner we do, the sooner we can be alone,” she replied, leaning her head on his shoulder.
Bane carefully maneuvered the stairs with her in his arms, relishing the closeness of her. He didn’t wish to share her with anyone, but the moment they got this business out of the way, they could take their extended holiday for her recovery. Watching Edyth sleep for the past few days had been difficult, the weight of not knowing her full story pressing on him. He wasn’t even certain she would be ready to share anytime soon, but in the meantime, Bane hoped she would enjoy the trip he’d planned for her.
“Edyth, thank the good Lord you are well.” Lavinia didn’t wait for Bane to set her down before pulling her into a gentle embrace, mindful of Edyth’s healing wound. “I was so worried, and I couldn’t bear the thought that you might be under the impression I was secretly helping Boris and Roger. Bane and I had been searching and when we couldn’t find you—” Her voice cracked. “I was sorry to learn of Roger’s unfortunate choices. You could have been spared a great deal. And I want you to know that I have, of course, broken it off with him. He was ever so repentant, but I did not and will not relent in my decision. The man is a fiend.”
Edyth took her cousin’s hand and patted it. “I know you were innocent in their games. How else could I explain your helping me capture the heart of the man I now call husband.”
Lavinia’s lips parted and she whipped her gaze up to look at him and back to Edyth. “Husband? You’re married? But how? When?”
Bane chuckled and slowly lowered Edyth to her feet.
“I’ll tell you all in good time,” she replied, leaning on him as they drew toward the fire, stretching her fingers out toward the flames.
His brother Tom and Sylvia joined them, along with his mother and father, followed by four maids carrying silver trays of covered food that they placed on a card table in the corner of the room.
Edyth sniffed the air. “Are those biscuits I smell? And bacon?” She turned to her husband, beaming up at him. “You ordered breakfast for dinner for me, didn’t you?”
“Of course. Nothing but your favorites, but only until you are well. We cannot have you turning into a tyrant.”
“I thought I was already a tyrant?” She winked at him.
“No one could ever accuse you of being a tyrant. Eat your fill, my love,” he whispered, keeping his arm around her, offering support. “Ah, it looks like your lawyer will be joining us for our meal.” He motioned to the gentleman in the hall, inviting him into the parlor.
At the sight of the lawyer, Edyth stiffened and grabbed his hand at her waist. It felt strange to be so intimate with her in front of others, but she was his wife, and they could take each other’s hand whenever they pleased. Leading her to the settee with the most cushions, he saw to it that she was settled in comfort before retrieving a plate for her. Today was not a day to enjoy a meal at the table.
“Good evening, Mr. Pittman. Please, have a seat. We are picnicking instead of dining at the table, for my wife’s comfort.”
The lawyer greeted them all in turn, and Edyth returned his greeting with a weak smile and a nod.
“Miss Foster,” Mr. Pittman began and stopped, shaking his head. “I mean, Mrs. Banebridge. Please forgive me for not hearing of your predicament sooner.”
“How could you have known, Mr. Pittman. Please, fill a plate, and we can begin.”
Edyth did not inhale her food as Bane imagined she would, but instead, she was the picture of propriety. She ate silently while the lawyer asked the group his questions, only pausing to answer his direct questions. Mr. Pittman listened to their accounts, stoic, while Lavinia openly wept into her handkerchief and Bane’s mother gingerly patted her on the shoulder. His father sat, grim-faced, no doubt imagining his only daught
er in the place of Edyth as he reached out and took Mother’s other hand.
Bane had refilled Edyth’s coffee and plate once more before Mr. Pittman closed his folder and rested his clasped hands on the documents and looked to Edyth. “Well, Mrs. Banebridge, you were obviously wrongfully imprisoned on the island, and from the marriage certificate produced by Mr. Raoul Banebridge and the verification of Tom Banebridge’s testimony, your marriage is legally binding.”
She blushed at the mention of the validity of the marriage, but Bane squeezed her hand, hoping to provide her with a small measure of comfort.
“And for my final question before I depart, do you have anyone willing to testify of your treatment on the island and of your sanity on your behalf?” Mr. Pittman gestured around the room. “Besides those present here today, of course? Someone from the asylum, a nurse perhaps?”
“I know just one. She’s a patient who goes by Nellie Brown in the asylum. She should be free from that prison within days, if not already. Miss Nellie Bly has been undercover researching for an exposé that she is writing for Joseph Pulitzer of the New York World.”
The lawyer’s eyes widened. “You don’t say? Well, that should prove most helpful.” He tucked his folder under his arm and, taking one last draft of coffee from his cup, rose. “I will get to work on this right away. Don’t worry about a thing. It is my job to do the worrying. You focus on getting well.”
Lavinia was the first to stand. With a smile and tinted cheeks that Bane recognized as admiration, she offered to show Mr. Pittman to the door. With the lawyer’s departure, the family gave them some privacy, his mother closing the doors behind them.
“Thank goodness that is over. Mr. Pittman seems kind,” Bane said, returning to his seat beside her.
“Yes, he is, but it has been years since I’ve conversed with him.” Edyth slumped into her pillow, her exhaustion plain.
“Did his being here bring up memories of your parents’ accident?” He rubbed his thumb over her palm, still shaken from hearing her gruesome account of her days at the island and the final treatment she received before she was rescued.
The Gray Chamber Page 22