Read Secrets of the Heart Online
Authors: Jillian Kent
Ravensmoore glanced at her and chuckled. “Are you going to eat that thing or just smell it?” He passed her a crock of butter. “Here, smother it with this and enjoy.”
Madeline didn’t argue. She spread the butter generously over the steaming bread, blew on it gently, and took a bite. “Mmmm, delicious.”The butter trickled down the back of her hand. She gasped in surprise when Ravensmoore gently took her hand and wiped the butter away with his thumb, leaving a trail of gooseflesh in its place.
Simon broke the spell by plopping himself next to Madeline. “I will be happy to help you in your efforts,” he announced. “I will help Mad Maddie distribute the food while you take care of the sick, Doctor.”
“What a generous offer,” Helga said, as she settled a huge pot of porridge in front of them. “I know just what a sacrifice that is for you, Simon.” She turned from the table and chuckled as she walked to the stove. She returned with a collection of bowls and scooped out generous portions of the hot porridge.
Ravensmoore turned his gaze on Simon. “Can you be trusted to guard her, Simon?”
Simon looked at Ravensmoore and grinned, porridge dripping from his chin. He chuckled. “I will guard her, Doctor. And if you die of the pox, I will ask Mad Maddie to marry me.”
Madeline shot a warning glance at Simon. “Not as long as you keep calling me Mad Maddie.”
“What shall I call you then?” Simon jumped down from the bench and brushed the bread crumbs from his clothes.
“You may call me Lady Madeline.”
Helga looked up, startled. “You are the lady who was teaching the boys, were you not? I never met you, but I heard your name.”
Madeline nodded. “How are they? Safely away in London, I hope.”
Helga’s face sobered. “No, I’m afraid not. They are sick with smallpox.”
Madeline gasped. “Not the boys!”
Simon dropped the empty wooden bowl he was taking to the sink. “Jack and Danny?” His fists clenched, and he kicked the bowl across the room. “I hate this place!” He stormed outside in a fit of rage.
Madeline drew herself up. “I will care for them, as I cared for my siblings.”
Ravensmoore asked, “Can you show us where they are, Helga?”
“Indeed I will.”
Together Madeline and Devlin followed Helga to where the twins were quarantined. The area stood apart from the asylum, an unused building attached to the main home for the patients.
“Danny, Jack!” Madeline rushed to the boys who lay still and unconscious, both in cots next to each other. A sheen of sweat covered their young faces. The wretched markings of smallpox had reached their necks but were not fully emerged. The pustules threatened the smattering of freckles that scattered across their cheeks and noses.
Ravensmoore placed a hand on each boy’s forehead. “The fever is raging.”
“I will sit with them,” Madeline said. “I know how to care for them.”
Ravensmoore frowned. “I’d rather you let someone else, Madeline. You are still weak.”
“I’m strong enough to care for these two. And you have many others to take care of in the asylum, including your mother. Go to them.”
“If you’re sure. Keep them as cool as you can. If they have difficulty breathing, they will need to have pillows propped behind them.”
“Would the vaccine help at this time?” Madeline asked.
“Once the disease has been contracted, it cannot be turned about by the vaccine. The illness must run its course. The boys are young and strong. They may fare well.”
Madeline’s eyes grew moist. “And they may not. My brother and sister were young and strong too.” She sniffled.
A gentle tapping on the door gained her attention, and the round face of the milkmaid appeared.
“Jenny!” Madeline jumped up.
Jenny tentatively entered the room. “I heard about the twins. Will they be all right?”
“We hope so, Jenny. This is Dr. Grayson.” Madeline stared at Jenny’s hands and touched Ravensmoore’s arm, drawing his attention to them.
“Jenny, how long have you had those spots on your hands?” Ravensmoore asked.
“’Tis the cowpox, doctor. Not smallpox.”
Ravensmoore went to her. “May I see?”
She held the pox-riddled hands in front of her. “It’s not pretty. Comes from the cows.”
“Milkmaids sometimes get the infection from the cows.” Ravensmoore turned her hands over. “Jenny, do the twins help you milk the cows?”
“Every morning, sir.”
Ravensmoore ran to the boys and opened their shirts. After a moment, he announced triumphantly, “The pustules aren’t as big as smallpox. It’s cowpox. The boys don’t have smallpox, Lady Madeline. They should be fine.”
“What are you talking about?” Madeline asked as Jenny went to sit by the boys. “Isn’t this dangerous?”
Ravensmoore returned to her side. “Lady Madeline, it’s cowpox. This is what Jenner uses as his vaccine against smallpox. The boys and Jenny have received their vaccines from the cows.”
Madeline grabbed his hands. “God be praised. Finally, a bit of good news.” She squeezed his hands and gazed at him. “I will stay here with them and keep them comfortable. Now go, Ravensmoore, and attend to your mother.”
He nodded, gratitude pooling deep in his eyes. “I will come back as soon as I can. Be careful, Lady Madeline.”
Their gazes locked for one long moment, then Ravensmoore turned away. Madeline watched as Ravensmoore strode across the brick courtyard heading back to the asylum. Back to the gates of hell.
For I will restore health unto thee, and I will
heal thee of thy wounds, saith the Lord.
—J
EREMIAH 30:17
A
S HE CROSSED
the asylum grounds, Devlin watched thick, black smoke crawl above Ashcroft like charred skeletal fingers of a bony hand. The gruesome business of burning bodies continued. He shivered as he entered the asylum and retraced the maze of hallways to find his mother.
At last he found the small room where she’d spent the night. “How is she, Amanda?”
Humming a winsome tune, Amanda sat holding Elethea’s hand. “Better,” Amanda said, not looking at him. “She’s better.”
Devlin checked his mother’s temperature. “The fever’s broken.”
“Breathing better.” Amanda rocked back and forth on the floor.
Devlin took out his stethoscope and placed it on his mother’s chest. Satisfied with his findings, he breathed a sigh of relief.
“Thank you, Amanda. You might have just saved my mother’s life by sitting with her and keeping her cool.”
“You saved her,” Amanda whispered. “She’s happy now.”
Devlin smiled. “Why don’t we just say we both helped, and the good Lord did the rest.” He so much wanted his mother to survive.
Amanda chanted. “Lord did the rest, Lord did the rest, Lord did the rest.”
“Amanda? Are you all right?”
“Lord did the rest, Lord did the rest, Lord did the rest.”
“You’ve been up too long. Your illness awakes. I want you to go to sleep, Amanda.” He led her to her cot. “Lie down now. My mother will be fine, and you both need to sleep.”
“Sleep, sleep, sleep,” she chanted on, giving him no resistance.
“That’s right, sleep.” He tucked her in and watched her quickly fall asleep.
Mrs. Sharpe entered the room. “Doctor, we’ve brought the files we could carry of the patients.” Wiggins stood beside her, intimidating and behemoth.
“Thank you, Mrs. Sharpe, Wiggins. You have the list of those who have died?”
“Yes, sir.”
“Good. They will tell us who is at risk. We’ll separate the inoculated from those less fortunate. Anyone showing symptoms must be quarantined in another area until we are certain it is smallpox. I’ll write down the names of those who are well but have not yet received the vaccine. We will make sure the patients stay in the area of the asylum best suited for their needs.”
It became clear to Devlin after studying the first few patient records that Sullivan was making a huge personal profit. In one case he admitted a man simply because the man’s family said he disturbed them at night. They couldn’t sleep with all the noise he made rocking in his chair. Sullivan was paid handsomely to be certain the man never left Ashcroft.
Another patient, a woman, entered the asylum at the whim of her family for talking too much. Another, because she enjoyed bathing, and still another, because she prayed aloud three times a day. There were others who appeared legitimate in their need for safe custody.
Devlin picked up the next record and paused. The name on the outside read
Lady Ravensmoore
. Devlin’s hands trembled. His mother told him how she came to be in Ashcroft. He felt suddenly guilty for what he was about to do, but then he mentally kicked the notion aside. He needed to see what was in this record.
He carefully peeled back the yellowed paper. There was a letter on the first page written in a familiar hand, his father’s. It read:
Dear Sir,
I wish to have my wife committed to Ashcroft Asylum. Lord Vale has assured me she will have everything she needs under your supervision.
This is a most delicate matter.
My wife was found in our forest near the manor house, quite distraught. During a storm, my groomsman discovered her fighting off a hungry wolf. She has not been in her right mind since that wretched night.
I expect you will see to her every comfort. In return for your discretion, I will compensate you. Lord Vale guarantees me that you may be trusted.
I will deliver her to you on the fourth day of March. Have all necessary paperwork prepared and at my disposal.
Ravensmoore
Devlin’s breath caught. He took in great gulps of air to steady his racing heart. His own father had betrayed him with Vale’s help. And now Lady Madeline and her mother were at risk. The monster must be stopped. Devlin would see to it.
God, help me not kill the man with my own hands
, he thought, trying to control his rage.
A glimmer of hope crept into his consciousness—an amazing thread of joy lacing its way amid the fire of anger that bloomed. If his mother was not insane, but merely the pawn of his father’s lustful desire for another woman, then he did not carry the seed of insanity. But perhaps his unfaithfulness had already done irreparable harm to her mind. Only time would tell what this place had inflicted on her as well—if she survived.
He shook his head and stood, then went to a basin of water near the doorway and bent over it to splash his face.
“Doctor!” Mrs. Sharpe cried. “Watch out!”
Devlin whirled, and a searing pain sliced through his upper back as the basin clattered to the floor. Looking back, he saw only the dark coat of his assailant as he fled.
Mrs. Sharpe ran to him.
Devlin dropped to his knees. Blood trickled down his back and dripped onto the floor where it mingled with the spilled water, swirling into a macabre painting. The room swam.
“Doctor, lie still.” She knelt beside him.
“Check the… wound,” he gasped. “Get my topcoat. Use it to… stop bleeding.”
Mrs. Sharpe grabbed his topcoat from the floor, balled it up, and pressed it against the wound.
“How… does it look?”
“It’s bleeding heavily.”
Devlin struggled to speak through a veil of fog. “Get Lady Madeline,” he whispered hoarsely, before falling into the dark abyss of unconsciousness.
My God, my God, why hast thou forsaken
me? Why art thou so far from helping me?
—P
SALM 22:1
M
ADELINE WAS JUST
wringing out a rag, preparing to place it on Danny’s forehead, when Simon appeared in the doorway. “Mad Maddie.”
She was about to reprimand him for calling her that dreadful name when she saw the expression on his face. “What’s wrong?” Madeline asked, smoothing the cloth across Danny’s brow.
“Mrs. Sharpe needs you. Dr. Grayson has been attacked.”
Terror gripped Madeline as she followed Simon into the asylum.
Madeline gasped when she reached Devlin. Blood was everywhere, splattered on the floor and soaking through the thick topcoat that Mrs. Sharpe used to staunch the blood. She fell to her knees next to him. “What happened? She picked up his limp hand.
“Can you hear me, Dr. Grayson?”
He groaned. Mrs. Sharpe explained, “Someone stabbed him. I didn’t see his face. Just a knife slashing through the air. It happened so fast.”
“Is he going to die?” Simon lifted one of Ravensmoore’s eyelids. His eyes popped open, and Simon jumped back in surprise.
“I told you before. I am not going to die,” Ravensmoore said, his voice hoarse.