Against the Tide (30 page)

As an eerie glow began to fill the sky, Bane carried Lydia off into the night.

33

L
ydia struggled to open her eyes. It would be so much easier to remain curled up underneath a heavy layer of sleep, but she was thirsty and had a headache, and there was something very important she needed to do. When she managed to open her eyelids, it took her a moment to focus in the bright light, but when she did, she could not stifle her gasp.

She was in a
palace.
Yards and yards of silken draperies fell in heavy folds across the bank of windows on the opposite side of the room. The ceiling was dense with carvings in the white plaster, and a chandelier dripping with crystal hung from the center. When she moved a bit, she was surprised at how easily her limbs slipped across the bedding. Silk sheets?

“Hello, Sleeping Beauty.”

Lydia jerked her head to the other side of the room and saw Bane rising from a chair. He set a stack of papers on a table and strode toward her bedside, gentle concern burning in his eyes.

“I feel like I am in Versailles,” she said, her tongue thick in her mouth.

Bane smiled as he poured her a glass of water from a crystal pitcher on the bedside table. “Close, but not quite. You’re in the Fontaine family estate on Cape Grace.” He slipped an arm beneath her shoulders and raised her a few inches from the pillow to hold the glass to her mouth. The water was blessedly cool slipping down her throat.

As she lowered herself back onto the silken sheets, she continued to move her gaze, taking in the soft shades of pale blue that decorated the room and the bank of windows overlooking the cold, blustery ocean. Utter bewilderment clouded her mind, and she struggled to remember how she came to be here.

“Cape Grace?” she asked. “Isn’t that where all the rich tourists go?”

“Yes, but the town is deserted at this time of year. We thought it would be a good place for you to have some privacy while you recover. Your boardinghouse hardly seemed appropriate.”

But how did she get here? And why was Bane looking at her with such caution in his eyes? The way he hovered over her and held his breath made it seem like he feared something was about to shatter or explode at any moment. She must have been hurt somehow because her head felt like it was being squeezed in a vise, but when she pressed a hand to her hair, there were no bandages or signs of a wound. Bane pulled a chair beside the bed and took her hand between his warm palms.

“You were really out of it for a while. We brought you here by train two days ago.”

And then the memories came crashing down on her. She had been trapped in that horrible mansion in Vermont. “The Professor! Something was wrong with me and I couldn’t function.”

Pain filled his eyes. “I know.”

“But what happened? I tried to stay awake to meet you, but how did I end up here?”

Bane laid a finger across her lips. “Suffice it to say that there was a fire at the Professor’s house, and I was able to get you out in the confusion. You know how obedient the Professor’s servants are, and I knew they would be under orders to rescue the books before they came running after us. We made a clean getaway, love.”

Despite his reassurance, a sense of urgency was strangling Lydia. There was something very important she needed to remember, but her mind was too scattered to function properly. She had been fighting for something when the drug had taken her down. She had gone outside of the house on a mission. . . .

“The icehouse!” In those final desperate minutes she had hidden a copy of the Professor’s plans for a new home in the icehouse. It was the key to finding him and bringing him down forever. “Did the icehouse burn? Did the fire spread there as well?” She had almost
died
to save those papers and could not bear it if they had gone up in flames.

“The icehouse?” Bane still seemed unconcerned. “I can’t imagine that it did. The fire wasn’t big, just enough to keep the servants occupied while I made my escape. Why the concern over the icehouse?”

“I found the plans for the Professor’s escape! I know where he is going.”

That got Bane’s attention. His head jerked up and his eyes nearly pierced straight through her. “Tell me.”

More and more pieces of her memory started clicking together, and she told Bane about the property in California and his plan to ship his books via railroad. She recounted how she had hidden the documents between blocks of ice and covered them with sawdust. Bane stood and paced the room as she talked, his face almost frightening in its intensity.

“We have to go back,” Lydia said, rising from the bed. “We have to go back and get those papers before they are discovered.”

Bane pushed her back against the pillows. “You aren’t going anywhere. You are in no condition to travel. I’ll think of another plan to get the documents.”

She wanted to argue with him, but perhaps he was right about her being too ill to travel. The throbbing in her head was almost blinding in its ferocity. “My head really hurts,” she said, wishing inanely for her little blue bottle.

“I know it does. The doctor warned me you would wake up wishing you could remove your head from your shoulders.”

“A doctor has been here?” She clutched the sheet higher, grateful she wore a modest nightgown.

Bane nodded. “There have been a couple. A doctor examined you right after I got you away from the house, and then a specialist came to Cape Grace to see you. He was the one who warned me about the headache.”

She felt exposed, naked, knowing so much had been going on around her while she was unconscious. “What kind of specialist?”

“He is a doctor who works with people struggling with opium,” Bane said quietly. “Dr. Tilden has been living in the house with us and will continue to do so until you are cured.”

Her eyes grew round, and she felt more exposed than ever. “Who all is living here?”

“Admiral Fontaine is here, with both his children. So is his mother. A couple of servants. A cook. And Dr. Tilden.”

Lydia wished she could pull the sheets over her head and dissolve. “And all those people think I am an opium addict?” Her voice was hard as she glared at Bane. “You told Admiral Fontaine I use opium?”

“You have nothing to be ashamed of,” he said quietly. “Eric is
ready to lay the world at your feet because of what you did to save his son. Dr. Tilden has made a great study of opium addiction and will help you rid the poison from your body.”

His words did not stop the waves of humiliation that rolled through her. Lydia gathered a fistful of sheets in her hands to stop them from shaking. “Bane, whatever is wrong with me has nothing to do with opium. I went days and days without it when I was in Vermont, and I only used it when the situation was more than any rational person could endure.” She locked eyes with Bane, probably the only other person in the entire world who could understand the mind-numbing terror that came from being isolated in that horrible mansion.

“Under normal circumstances I don’t
need
opium.” Her voice vibrated with anger, and a rim of tears pooled in her eyes. “And you’ve gone and told all these people I am nothing better than an opium-eater.”

She sat up, the agony in her head almost forcing her back down, but she wouldn’t let a little pain stop her from something so important. She needed to get dressed and prove to Admiral Fontaine she was a perfectly healthy woman. She had fought
so hard
all those years to earn the admiral’s respect, and now Bane had ruined it all. She swung her feet around, and instead of trying to force her back to bed, Bane handed her another glass of water.

“The first thing the doctor said to do is drink plenty of fluids, so let’s get started on that right now.”

Lydia obliged, not because she was following doctor’s orders, but because her thirst was so insatiable she wanted to drink the entire pitcher of water. Bane continued speaking while she drank. “Lydia, you are experiencing all the classic symptoms of opium withdrawal. The thirst, the pain in your head. You have not stopped twisting the sheet since you woke up, and that kind of nervous
tension is going to continue for at least a week as the drug is cleared from your system.”

Lydia set the glass down, then dropped her head into her hands, curling up in shame. The pain in her head roared to life even at that small motion. The people who owned this house lived like royalty, and she was the fisherman’s daughter who grew up on a boat and bathed in the sea.

“I want to get out of here,” she said in a thin voice. “I don’t want Admiral Fontaine to see me like this, and I don’t want to meet all those strangers. Can’t you please just help me get back to Boston where I can get better without being humiliated?” Why couldn’t she control the wobble in her voice? She was horrified when a tear rolled down her cheek. She swiped it away and hoped Bane did not notice.

The mattress sagged as he sat beside her, folding her hand inside his own. “Lydia, you have never been the weepy sort, but this is another one of the symptoms of withdrawal. Weepiness, sensitivity.”

She was so angry she could only speak through clenched teeth. “You told all these people I am an opium addict. That would make
anyone
upset, Bane. I want to go back to Boston. Today.”

Bane rose. “Very well. I know you like a good adventure, so if you insist, we can start plotting an escape. This will be fun, slipping out of the Cape Grace castle to run back to your Boston hovel. And look, we still have your compass, so we have that going for us. It will be a bit of a trek, but you are the one who wants to be like Lewis and Clark, so the seventy miles back to Boston would be just a little jaunt. We can camp under the stars and hike along the back roads with nothing guiding us but the compass needle.”

For the first time in weeks, Lydia began to feel like herself. She raised her chin a notch. “I know you are making fun of me, but it actually sounds rather appealing.”

That seemed to take Bane by surprise. “Really?” The note of hope in his voice was unmistakable.

Anything that would take her mind off the pain in her head and the twitchiness in her limbs would be welcome, but it was more than that. She wanted a sense of purpose in her life, a feeling of worthiness. “The last little adventure you sent me on was the most terrifying thing I’ve ever experienced. But it was also the most rewarding. I like having a challenge, even if it is frightening.”

“Very well, then. I’ll take you back to Boston, but you need to prove you are well enough to travel first. How convenient there is a doctor in the house.”

The sense of relief was huge. All she had to do was hold it together for a few hours before she could leave with her dignity intact. “And the doctor will tell Admiral Fontaine I am perfectly healthy . . . that I don’t have a problem with opium?”

“If that is what he concludes after examining you.”

She lifted her chin and forced her hands to stop trembling. “He will.”

The smile on Bane’s face was cool, poised, skeptical. “Well then, the first thing is to get you up and dressed.” Bane flung open the doors of a wardrobe. “Look, clothes that I suspect have been purchased with Miss Lydia Pallas in mind. Stand up, stand up.” He pressed a dress made of garnet velvet and trimmed with black satin braiding into Lydia’s hands. “No more lollygagging for you. Let’s get you dressed and moving about. The doctor stepped into town this morning, but you can come and meet Mrs. Fontaine before he returns.”

“Bane, just because I said I like a bit of adventure doesn’t mean I’m going to undress in front of you.”

Bane winked at her. “Pity. I’ll go rejoin the family for a moment. When you are ready, just head down the staircase and turn left. I will be listening for you.”