Secrets of the Heart (28 page)

Ravensmoore leaned over her and smoothed her hair, combing it away from her face with his fingers, an unconscious, gentle act. He entwined his fingers with hers. “How are you feeling?”

She felt tears spring into her eyes. “Better.” She reached out and tenderly touched his cheek in return. “I prayed you would find me. How did you know I was here?”

“Agnes sent Donavan to Lady Gilling to let her know what happened to you. Then Melton and Lady Gilling came to me at Ravensmoore.”

Madeline pushed herself to a sitting position. “Is my mother all right?”

“I don’t know. Melton is going to investigate.”

“Vale is making her sick. Laudanum poisoning, I think. He’s trying to kill her.”

“Don’t worry. We’ll find a way to stop him. You’re the one I’m concerned about right now.” His hand covered her brow. “You still have a fever. I plan to take very good care of you until I’m certain you are well. The first thing we must do is get some decent food in you.”

“I’m scared.”

“Shhh. I’m here now. No more harm can come to you.” He took her hand and pressed it to his lips gently. She shivered, whether in delight or fear, she did not know. Now that she knew the horrors of this place, the agonies of the insane, how could she love him?

“Lord Ravensmoore, I must know something.” She paused.

He smiled. “So many questions for one so sick. What’s on your mind?”

She blurted out the question. “I must know the truth. Was your mother insane?”

Madeline felt his fingers clench at the words. He cleared his throat, about to say something, then appeared to change his mind. “I must know.” She searched his eyes. “Please.”

“You don’t understand. But how can you? I don’t understand myself,” he whispered, turning away from her. “She’s here. My mother is
still
here. She’s alive… for now.”

“Alive?” Her eyes widened with shock. “But I thought she was dead.”

“So did I.” He raked a hand through his hair. “I discovered her alive only a short time ago, but she is ill. Gravely ill.”

Madeline saw in his eyes the pain of the little boy who had lost his mother so long ago. Her heart went out to him. “Look at me.”

He turned to her, unshed tears begging for release from his exhausted, unshaven face. The anguish of so many years of pent-up emotion lay bare for her to see. She wrapped her hands around his and could feel the release of his shaky breath.

“I would have visited her if my father had let me. But he didn’t, and then he said she died.” His voice cracked. “My father arranged the funeral, but I wasn’t permitted to see her body. Now I know why.”

She gripped his hands, trying to console him. But this revelation was so much bigger than the two of them. She didn’t know what else could be done for him. She watched him squeeze his eyes shut, as if trying to block the memory.

“The coffin in the family cemetery must be empty because she’s here, alive. All this time she has been buried away in this hellhole. I don’t know if she’s sane or not.”

“I’m so sorry.” Madeline gently leaned away and studied him. “It’s not your fault. You need rest, or you will make yourself ill.”

“I can’t sleep. There’s too much to be done, and I’m the closest thing they have to a physician.” He wiped his face on his shirtsleeve. “Forgive me.”

“Why? Because you were done a great injustice as a child? Because you ache for your mother and yourself?”

“Because I didn’t tell you about her. Lady Gilling told me how you found out. You must have thought me as deceitful as Lord Vale.”

“Shhh. It doesn’t matter now.” She put her finger to his lips. “I know you would have told me eventually.”

He gazed at her, his face solemn. “There’s more. You’re not yet well, and I don’t want to alarm you, but this must be said.”

Her heart raced. “You’re frightening me. What’s wrong?”

Ravensmoore stood and began to pace restlessly. “There’s a smallpox epidemic in the asylum. It’s inevitable that death will come to many.”

Madeline felt sick with dread. Her stomach twisted in knots. “No,” she whispered. Her fear of death and disease threatened to strangle her, but she refused to let it, searching instead for strength. “How many are ill?”

“Around thirty out of over a hundred inmates. The keepers are helping the best they can.” His tone turned urgent. “Lady Madeline, have you received the vaccine?”

“Yes. Mother had everyone at Richfield vaccinated after my brother and sister fell ill with the dreadful disease. What about you? Were you vaccinated?”

“Of course. Langford made certain all the medical students received Jenner’s vaccine.”

“I must get out of here soon. Mother must be protected from Vale.”

“No one leaves. The guards make sure of that. But as soon as everything is under control, we will go together to get your mother. Even though you have had the vaccine, I don’t want you exposed to anyone who may be ill. You are not yet over the fever and must regain your strength.”

“Can you get any help?”

“I don’t know. I won’t leave with so many sick, and I won’t leave without you and my mother. Melton knows I’m here to get you out. He might come. I don’t want to leave you alone.”

“Don’t worry about me. Go to your mother, Lord Ravensmoore, and make the most of the time she has left. Perhaps with you here, she will survive. She must be very strong to have survived all this time.”

“Yes. But I’m not sure what price her mind and body have paid after all this time. And I am very worried about you too. You’ve been through so much.” He gripped her hand.

“I’ll be fine,” she said. “Go. Your mother and the others need you.”

She watched him leave and felt a strange new strength replenish her spirit. He needed her.

C
HAPTER 18

The heart will break, yet brokenly live on.

—L
ORD
B
YRON

T
HE STENCH OF
illness filled the air as Devlin found his way back through a maze of interconnecting hallways. Fear and a sense of urgency pumped through his weary body as he thought about what to do next. He felt inadequate to the huge task ahead of him—not only fighting a smallpox epidemic, but also facing the possible second loss of his mother and the danger of rescuing Madeline.

Entering the area where his mother lay, Amanda by her side, he breathed a sigh of relief. Pulling up a short-legged stool, he sat down next to her and Amanda. “How does she fare this morning, Amanda?” He spotted Mrs. Sharpe across the room. “I checked on Lady Madeline. Thank you. Now, I need your help.”

She nodded. “What can I do?”

“Do you know where the patient records can be found?”

“They are kept in Mr. Sullivan’s office. What you are thinking is very dangerous. He guards those records well, but I know just who can get them for you.”

“Good. Let me know when I can see them.”

“As soon as possible.” She left to seek the assistance she needed.

Devlin turned his attention to Amanda and his mother. “How is she?”

Amanda smiled tentatively. “The same.” She wiped his mother’s spotted face with a dampened cloth.

Devlin felt his mother’s cheeks and neck. “She’s still fevered but is a bit improved. Her breathing is not good, though. Amanda, see if you can find another pillow to put under her head. It will make her breathing easier.”

Amanda nodded and rose from the floor to search for a pillow. Devlin watched her walk away, her dirty skirt brushing the floor. He wondered again why she’d killed her father.

His mother groaned.

“I’m here, Mother. It’s your son, Devlin. How are you feeling?” He gave her hand a gentle squeeze. “Can you hear me?”

She weakly squeezed his hand and tried to speak. Her tongue licked over her cracked lips. “Thirsty.”

“I’ll get you some water.” He walked over to the bucket of water that sat on a small wooden table in the corner of the room. Picking up the well-worn ladle, he poured water into one of the cups, smelled it, and then tasted it. He detected no odor or other sign of impurity.

Devlin squatted next to his mother and put an arm under her shoulders to support her neck. “Sip slowly.” Devlin watched her struggle to drink. He didn’t think it possible for her to survive. Death now claimed nearby patients, and still she clung to life. Maybe Madeline was right. Maybe she would fight the disease if she knew she had something to look forward to.

“Devlin,” his mother whispered. “You are real. I thought you were a vision.” She explored her son’s face. “How?” The wretched coughing overtook her.

“Drink some more water. You don’t have to talk.” Devlin struggled with the warring emotions that battled within him. His father’s face kept flashing before him. How could the man betray them in such a cruel way?

Elethea recovered with difficulty from the coughing spell. “How did you get here?” She reached up and touched his face with her pox-covered hand. “How did you find me?”

He gave her the simplest answer he could. “I have been studying medicine and was summoned here to help with the smallpox epidemic. I had no idea you were here. What happened the day you were committed, Mother? Do you remember?”

Elethea’s eyes focused on the wall in front of her. “I shall never forget.”

“Will you tell me about it?”

“It’s not pleasant, Devlin. Are you certain you want to hear?”

“I’ve wondered about it all these years. The girls were too young. And… you are the only one who can tell me.”

“The only one? Your father?”

“He died four years ago. You could not have known.”

“Your brother?”

“I’m sorry, Mother. Edward was lost at sea, two years ago.”

Tears welled in her eyes. “Then you are the earl. You have a right to know the truth.” She cleared her throat and haltingly told her story.

“I caught your father in bed with another woman. He was enraged and did not care to take into consideration any feelings I might have on the subject. He defended his mistress as they lay together in my bed! I remember the smile of satisfaction on her face… my deep sense of shock and rage.”

She stopped for a moment, a faraway look in her eyes as the past engulfed her, intruding into the present. “I ran from the room, their laughter ringing in my ears. I didn’t know what to do. I felt so betrayed, so humiliated, so hurt. I stormed out of the house with no sense of where I was going or what I was going to do. All I knew was that I had to get away from him and the betrayal he’d brought to our marriage bed.”

“Where did you go?”

“I walked straight into the woods. I think I wanted to die because, under any other circumstances, I would never have done anything so utterly stupid. Rage is a strange emotion. It was almost dark. A sudden storm hit. I was terrified, and then the wolves came. Two of them.”

“Wolves. How did you survive?”

“I almost didn’t. It was so dark, except for the fingers of lightning that showed me the path. I picked up a large stick and fought them off as best I could. It was fear that kept me alive.”

“How did you get away? Did Father come after you?”

“No,” she whispered, the agony of that evening evident in her eyes. “No. Your father never left the house. You see, he was entertaining his mistress while I was nearly devoured by hungry wolves. It was Donavan who saved me. My maid witnessed my husband’s betrayal. I remember her calling after me as I fled the house, but I didn’t stop. I couldn’t face anyone.”

“Donavan? The Richfield’s groom?” Devlin asked in amazement.

“So that’s where he went. He was hotheaded and bold. He saved me from those beasts. My maid went to him and explained what happened. He took a horse from the stable and came after me. If it wasn’t for Donavan, I would have died that night.”

“He saved you. Donavan saved you. And my father… did nothing.”

Seized by another coughing attack, she could not continue. Devlin knew the story had taken its toll. “Rest now. You can tell me how you ended up here later, though I can guess what occurred.”

“We will talk,” she said weakly, as the coughing subsided. “Later, dear.” She nestled under the blanket.

Devlin gently tucked her in. He remembered when she used to do the same thing for him and how safe it had made him feel. He hoped he’d been able to provide her with just a bit of the same comfort.

Devlin noticed the sun shining through the meager windows in the room. Mrs. Sharpe scurried past him.

“Mrs. Sharpe, a moment please,” he said, catching up with her. “I’m hungry. Can you show me to the kitchens?” He fell into step beside her.

“Yes, Doctor. That is exactly where I am going. We all must eat, but we need to inventory what is available. I haven’t had time since the pox invaded Ashcroft, but it must be done to see how much food remains. You should also have the medical records soon.”

“That should help.” Devlin marveled at the woman. She walked so briskly that a woman half her age would be struggling to keep pace with her. “You said there are about one hundred ten patients here at Ashcroft? Do you know how many are new in recent months?”