Secrets of the Heart (32 page)

Hugh chuckled. “Welcome to the pit, dearie. We reserve this room for our most special patients.” He returned to the lever on the wall and began to lower the cage.

Madeline watched in horror as she descended into the dark abyss.

C
HAPTER 21

If it were not for Hopes, the Heart would break.

—T
HOMAS
F
ULLER
, MD,
G
NOMOLOGIA
, No. 2689

M
ADELINE GRITTED HER
teeth and tried to rattle open the door of her cage. Her dislike of mice and insects lost to her fear of close spaces. She swallowed hard and tried not to think about what crawled under her neck and over her belly. But for all her effort she found escape impossible. Even if she had been able to escape the cage, she doubted she would be able to scale the walls of the pit.

She stood and brushed furiously at her neck and clothing. Madeline knew that in order to survive, she could not stay here long. The confined space stole her breath; she refused to let it steal her sanity or her life. She had to have food and water. “You can’t leave me here!” she yelled, hoping someone would hear her. “Help me!” She fought back a wave of panic and hit the walls with her fists. “Please, Lord. Help me.”

Then she surrendered to all the emotions that she’d tried to ward off: fear, anger, and hopelessness. She sobbed and then she prayed. She prayed that God would protect Ravensmoore from those who wished him harm. She prayed that Dr. Langford would drop everything and come quickly. She prayed for her mother. And she prayed for her rescue.

Her tears and melancholia over the last year were nothing compared to this. She was indeed cast into the pit. And the cruel and distant God who’d sent so much trouble her way was now her only hope. She had no choice but to turn to Him.

After hours, or what felt like hours later, the door to her prison in the above room squeaked.
Hugh!

“Please let me out of here.” He was coming back to keep his promises. The thought of him made her skin crawl.
If I can get out, perhaps I can outwit him.
Her heart leaped with the hope. The grate above her scraped back, the sound echoing in the chamber. The lever creaked and strained above her head, and she felt the cage sway as it rose. She surfaced swiftly and hung suspended above the pit. Madeline squinted into the torchlight. “Who’s there?” She heard the grate above the hole slide roughly back in place. “Answer me.” The cage lowered slowly to the grate. It was not Hugh who awaited her but someone much larger than her captor.

“Who are you?” She forced the words from her throat as the giant drew near. Madeline’s hand covered her mouth, stifling a scream. She prayed the end would be quick, for there was no way she could escape this giant of a man. Madeline stared at his bulging eye but refused to cave in to the torrent of emotions that gripped her.

Opening the cage, he reached inside for Madeline and gently pulled her out.

“I will not harm you. Come.” He gestured, and she followed, stumbling behind, as he led her away from the pit and up a staircase to a secluded room.

“You rest,” he commanded, and disappeared through the door.

She sat on the floor, forcing herself to be calm, and breathed in great gulps of air that didn’t smell of the pit. She had no idea where she was or who it was who had carried her away from her prison, but she was grateful. “Thank You, God. Thank You for sending this man.”

Madeline pushed herself off the floor. Her legs trembled, but she leaned against the wall for support until she felt steady. Looking around the small room, she noticed a tiny window, through which she spotted a red-streaked sky. So it must be evening.

She crept out of the secluded room into the silent hallway. Moving through it she found herself near the cold baths where Hugh and Thomas had nearly drowned her. “Ravensmoore,” she whispered aloud. She headed in the direction of the makeshift infirmary, watching and praying that Hugh and Thomas were not around the next corner waiting to capture her and return her to the pit.

Fortunately Madeline spied Mrs. Sharpe. Suddenly the strain of her ordeal overwhelmed her, and she began to weep.

Mrs. Sharpe hurried toward her. “What is it, my dear? What’s happened?”

Madeline struggled to gain control of her emotions, but the tears continued to flow. Mrs. Sharpe put a comforting arm around her and led her to a chair in a small room away from the stares and the voices of the insane. Pulling a rumpled handkerchief from her skirt pocket, she offered it to Madeline.

“I went to Sullivan’s office,” Madeline said, forcing herself to concentrate and not fall apart. “He’s the one who stabbed Dr. Grayson. He ordered Thomas to confine me to the pit, and that is where I have been.”

“Lord protect us,” Mrs. Sharpe whispered. “I knew he wasn’t trustworthy, and I’ve heard rumors, but I never thought he would stoop so low as to dance with the devil himself. How did you get out?”

“A horribly disfigured giant rescued me. He must be one of the patients.”

Mrs. Sharpe nodded. “I know exactly who it was. His name is Andrew Wiggins. You’re fortunate. You might still be in that horrid place if not for him. And thankfully I saw Hugh, Thomas, and Sullivan leave not too long ago, so you are safe for now.”

Madeline wiped at her eyes and looked at Mrs. Sharpe. “How is Dr. Grayson? Is he bleeding again?”

“No. The stitches are holding well. He has been sleeping, but I am sure he will ask for you as soon as he awakes.”

“I must get back to him, Mrs. Sharpe. He will tell us what to do next.”

She nodded. “I will go with you.”

Devlin woke at the sound of voices. “Here he is, Dr. Langford.”

“Thank you, Mrs. Sharpe. You may leave us now.”

Devlin blinked and rubbed his eyes, breathing a sigh of relief at the sight of his teacher, lantern in hand, staring down at him over his spectacles. “Dr. Langford, thank God.”

“Ravensmoore, what kind of trouble have you gotten yourself into now? Let me take a look at you.”

Langford motioned for Devlin to turn over so he could check his wound. He removed the bandages and traced his finger along the stitching. “Nice stitching,” he observed, wrapping the wound once again. “Be sure you rest easy at least another day. We’ll have to watch for infection, and you’re certain to be stiff and sore for quite a while.” He motioned for Devlin to lie back, then pulled up a stool next to the bed.

“I have brought the law,” he said simply. “First Mr. Melton tells me that Lady Madeline Whittington was brought here against her will, and then one of the keepers shows up with word that you’ve been stabbed. They are looking for Sullivan now.”

“But what of the epidemic?” Devlin asked. “Will you be able to stay and help? I must help—there are too many ill.”

Langford interrupted. “Better to work when you gain a bit of strength tomorrow than to collapse tonight. I will take over now, and we’ll reassess your situation in the morning. Try not to break the stitches open.”

Devlin sighed. “I have never seen so much death in one place.” He raised himself up to a sitting position and winced.

Langford pushed his glasses up on his nose and rested his gaze on Devlin. “Death is never easy. Watching someone die is heartbreaking, unless you can do something to ease their pain. A simple touch of the hand is sometimes a better cure than all that medicine has to offer.”

He folded his arms, regarding Devlin with something akin to curiosity.

“So, are you going to tell me why you left the profession? You were my best student, Ravensmoore. I can tell from your work here that you were paying attention.” Langford looked at him over those infernal glasses, waiting for an answer.

Devlin looked away. “I had other more pressing issues. Personal issues. I thought I would lose the woman I loved if I didn’t give up my work.” He squeezed his right hand into a fist. “I had doubts. I’ve been wrestling with God and my calling. Or at least what I thought was my calling.”

“And now?” Langford repeated, pressing for more.

“I have much to consider, Dr. Langford. For one thing, I have just discovered my mother alive in this wretched place, held against her will for ten years.” He quickly filled Langford in on the story, then asked, “Will you check on her for me? She is quite ill.”

Langford’s face had turned stormy as Devlin told his story. “I always thought there was something wrong with Sullivan,” he muttered. “Of course I will look after your mother.”

“She’s at the west end of the asylum with the others who are infected.”

Just then Devlin heard footsteps hurrying down the hallway. Madeline and Mrs. Sharpe came into the room, and Madeline went straight to Devlin’s side. “How are you?”

“Better.” Feasting his eyes on her, he noticed new rips in her clothing and fresh tear streaks against a dirty face. What new horrors had she endured while he’d been sleeping?

She turned to his teacher. “Dr. Langford! I am so glad to see you. We are in desperate need of your help.” Quickly she told her story— of confronting Sullivan, of being captured and taken to the pit.

Devlin listened intently. Rage claimed his heart with each detail she revealed. “Where are the cowards?” he demanded. “They must be stopped and confined until the authorities can lock them up.”

“I saw all three of them leaving Ashcroft not too long ago,” Mrs. Sharpe said.

Dr. Langford cleared his throat. “They must have heard that the law was coming. And their escape could mean the epidemic will spread wherever they go. Does anyone know if they were vaccinated?” He peered over his glasses at the assembled group.

Devlin leaned forward and winced again when the stitches grabbed him. “If Sullivan had the nerve to come into the asylum and stab me, then he must be very desperate. When I arrived here, he was terrified of being exposed. He said he had not been vaccinated.”

Madeline nodded in agreement and then turned her attention to Mrs. Sharpe. “Do you have any idea how long Hugh and Thomas have been employed here?”

“Not more than a year.”

Simon entered the room. “Yes, yes, not more than a year. The louts.” He made a fist and punched the air.

“Chances are they were never vaccinated,” Langford said. “We must assume the worst. I will notify the authorities to be on the lookout for them.” He looked at the dwarf with interest, then turned to Mrs. Sharpe. “Is there anyone here we could trust to help with the search—someone who could identify these men?”

Simon jumped up and down, waving his hand. “Me! Me! Oh, send me!”

Mrs. Sharpe gave him a wry look then turned to Langford. “Simon has his quirks, but I do think he could be of help to a search party.”

“Simon.” Madeline knelt and held her hands out to him.

“Yes, Mad Maddie?” Simon glanced at Devlin, pleased with the attention.

Devlin smiled in spite of the situation and the pain in his arm. Simon was obviously smitten with Maddie.

“What you are doing is very brave. Thank you.” She gave him a gentle kiss on the cheek. A deep shade of crimson inched up his neck and face. “Thank you, Mad Maddie,” he said, holding his hand to his cheek as if to keep the memory of her kiss with him. He turned to Dr. Langford. “I’ll go now!”

Langford nodded. “Devlin, I’ll be back once I’ve talked to the authorities. Stay here and rest for the night.” He left the room, Simon skipping in his wake and Mrs. Sharpe following behind.

Devlin watched them depart. He was glad that Langford had arrived, but he was anxious to have Madeline alone. He turned to her and took her hand, his head bowed. “You could have been killed, and I was useless. Forgive me.”

Looking up, he saw pain cross her face before she clamped down on her emotions. “I am safe now. The Lord provided escape through Andrew Wiggins.”

“I would have preferred he had sent me.” Devlin searched her face, saw an awakening there, but something else… doubt? Fear? Reluctantly he dropped her hand.

She turned slightly, saying briskly, “Lord Ravensmoore, I must go to Richfield. My mother is in danger. I must get her away from Vale.”

“You can’t do anything this time of night.” He made sure to talk sensibly, reasonably. If he ordered her about, she would be sure to defy him. “Let’s get you something to eat,” he said, changing the subject. “Then, you will sleep.”