Lyn Stone Page 16

  Chapter Eleven

  “Where is my wife?” Guy demanded as he stood at the door. The vicar and his wife kept tripping over each other’s words, trying to explain. A crowd was gathered outside, everyone abuzz and frowning, none willing to relate what the trouble was. Beau clung to his leg like a spider monkey, his eyes wide and seeking. Guy put a hand on Beau’s shoulder to calm him. Lily was obviously not here.

  “Lord Duquesne,” said a familiar voice, much calmer than the rest. He recognized the person edging her way between the couple in the doorway.

  “Sara! Tell me what has happened.”

  She grasped his elbow and pulled him away from the others. They let her, obviously relieved someone else had taken charge of the telling. “Your wife…became…well, distraught, I suppose you would say. One moment she was fine, but the next she grew terribly disoriented and incoherent. Her brother-in-law arrived just then to collect his mother and was immediately appointed to take her home.”

  “Clive?” Guy fairly spat the word as he turned to go. Beau clung to his hand, utterly pale and silent. Guy scooped him up in his arms and started out.

  “Wait!” Sara said, a warning note in her voice. “I overheard their conversation as they were departing. There was a mention of Plympton.” Her dark eyes were knowing. “Let me know if there’s any way I can help, will you?”

  He gave her a curt nod and hurried to the carriage. If they had taken Lily to that asylum, heads would roll.

  All the way back to Sylvana Hall, he struggled for calm, for the patience required to deal with a weeping child who feared the worst. He held the boy close and made promises that probably could not be kept, gave assurances that were likely untrue. He would lie to the Almighty Himself to get Beau through this ordeal. How well Guy remembered this feeling of desolation.

  But he knew from experience that terror of the unknown could be far worse than facing up to a real threat, however bad it might be. He should be straight with the boy, enlist his help, give him something positive to do. “We have to be brave for her, Beau. Crying won’t help either of us and it won’t help your mother,” Guy told him.

  Beau made a valiant attempt to control himself. The sobs subsided to frequent shudders and sniffs. Guy gave him his handkerchief.

  “You must help me plan, lad. I’ve sent for a special doctor all the way from Edinburgh, but it will be a while before he gets here. In the meantime, we must decide how to handle this.”

  “What is…dis…traught, sir?” Beau asked, his words wobbly.

  “It means upset. Something upset her.”

  “Mama’s…mad…again. Isn’t she?”

  Guy met the tearful, wide-eyed gaze and released a sigh. What could he say? The child was canny enough to recognize that Guy had been lying and placating him earlier. That hadn’t worked. The truth would be best. “I don’t know, Beau. If she is, we’ll take care of her together. You saw before how quickly she improved after she had that spell at the picnic? I expect this will be no different. By tomorrow, she will seem well again, I don’t doubt it.”

  The blue eyes shone with hope. “Maybe she’ll stay well this time?”

  “That’s the hope, son. But you and I will do everything we can to shield her from anything else upsetting, shall we? Together we’ll protect her.”

  “With our lives,” Beau added with a jerky nod. After a moment of quiet he added, “It’s people.”

  “What?” Guy asked, not following the boy’s train of thought.

  “People upset her, I think. A great lot of ’em all together.”

  Guy’s mouth almost dropped open. “By Zeus, you’re on to something there! The musicale, the picnic, this fete today…yes, that could well be a contributing factor.” He patted Beau’s shoulder. “Brilliant of you, mate.”

  He was relieved to see the boy light up again. A small fist landed in an open palm. “We’ll keep her at home and stand guard. No company,” Beau declared with a fierce little frown.

  “Excellent plan.” Guy glanced out the window of the carriage. “Almost there. Blow your nose and straighten up. If she’s not sleeping, she shouldn’t see us all disheveled.”

  Guy knew the moment they rounded the house that Lily was not there. The dowager and Clive would never have left her alone with the servants, and their carriage was not there. With that mention of Plympton Sara Ryan had told him about, he had figured they might have taken her on to the asylum. Sylvana had been on the way there, however, and he had hoped against hope.

  “Beau, I have to ask you something that will be very difficult for you, but I need you to do it.”

  The trusting face peered up at him, waiting for the assignment.

  “If your mother is not here, you must stay behind while I go to fetch her. Will you do that for me?”

  The trembling little lips formed a circle. “No.”

  “Please, Beau. If force is called for, I will use it, but I cannot be worrying about your welfare at the same time. Besides, your mother would tear a strip off my hide if I put you in danger.”

  “Will there be danger?” the boy whispered. “Mama won’t be hurt, will she? Where is she if she’s not here?”

  “A place reserved for…the sick.” Guy rushed to add, “I’ll bring her away from there as quickly as possible, I promise. Home again, safe and unharmed.”

  He watched Beau consider, then agree with a nod.

  “Good man. Watch over things while I’m gone. You might ask Cook to make some special things, whatever your mama likes best to eat.”

  “And I’ll make her a small picture to mark her place when she reads,” Beau said. “She’s always trying to make me draw.”

  Beau looked up at him as the carriage halted with a jerk, and an unspoken message passed between them.

  They both loved Lily. It was understood. Until that moment, Guy had not admitted to himself how much he cared.

  A few moments later, after questioning the footman who came out to help with the horses, Guy’s worst fears were realized. Lily had not been returned to Sylvana Hall. The Bradshaws had taken her to the madhouse.

  He wanted to saddle up and ride like the wind, get there before them and prevent Lily spending so much as a moment in that place, but the carriage would be needed to bring her home. There was nothing for it but to wait for a fresh team.

  When he arrived, the Bradshaws had left Plympton. Guy announced who he was and demanded to go to Lily immediately. To his surprise, the proprietor offered no objection.

  Mr. Colridge seemed a pleasant enough man of around fifty, heavyset with a kindly smile. “Of course, my lord. This way, please.” He led Guy up the stairs of the old mansion to the second floor. “She has one of the best rooms,” he assured Guy, “luckily vacated by Lord Blankenship not three days ago. The poor fellow succumbed to a heart problem.”

  Lily was ensconced in a private chamber outfitted with the barest of necessities, a bed, a heavy chair, a small wardrobe that bore a padlock. Though large, the dreary room was little more than a cell with bars at the windows and heavy locks on the door. He approached the bed where she lay sleeping.

  How fragile she looked. Someone had divested her of the beautiful gown she’d worn to the vicar’s and replaced it with a simple, unadorned shift of rough gray linen. Her hair, already shorn, lay in awkward curls as if her bonnet had been roughly yanked off. Guy smoothed it with a gentle touch so as not to wake her.

  Though he needed to get her out of here, it wouldn’t hurt for her to sleep a little while. Perhaps she would wake up well enough to walk out of here on her own, establishing to this Mr. Colridge that she was not afflicted as he must think.

  “We should speak in private,” the man suggested softly.

  Guy left Lily reluctantly, promising himself he would return and be there when she woke up. It wouldn’t do for her to awaken alone and frightened. God, how he hated to see her this vulnerable. She would hate it, too, if she knew.

  When they reached the corridor outside, he stopped inste
ad of going back down the stairs. “Talk to me here if you must. I don’t like to leave her.”

  “I know, sir. It’s often that way, but there’s little you can do for her. The doctor will be ’round first thing in the morning to evaluate her.”

  “Which doctor?”

  “Ephriam. He comes every other day.”

  “How was she when she arrived?” Guy asked.

  “Delusional. She believed bats were after her. We gave her something to calm her and she went off to sleep without further incident.”

  “Opiates?” Guy demanded.

  Colridge nodded. “That is the remedy prescribed when a patient is overset to that extent.”

  Guy knew that well enough. “I’ll be taking her home as soon as she wakes,” Guy informed him. “She is my wife. So long as she is not a danger to others or charged with a crime, you cannot keep her here without my authorization.”

  “True, nor would we wish to,” Colridge admitted. “However, you might want to consider having her stay at least until Dr. Ephriam has seen her.”

  “She goes home,” Guy insisted.

  “As you wish, my lord.” He gestured toward Lily’s room. “Please feel free to remain with her until she wakes.”

  Guy glanced up and down the corridor, at the walls and the worn, faded carpet. He recalled the downstairs with its sparse furnishings, all of the horrid gray paint and depressing atmosphere that pervaded every inch of the place that he’d seen thus far. Though the house had once been beautiful, it had become as institutionalized as the patients confined within it. “I’ve changed my mind,” he told Colridge. “I’m taking her now.”

  Colridge sighed and started down the stairs. “I’ll send an attendant to change her and we’ll bring a litter.”

  “No, don’t bother,” Guy said, reentering the room where Lily lay. He wrapped her carefully in the thick warm blanket someone had left folded at the foot of her bed and lifted her in his arms.

  She stirred, mumbled something he could not understand, then snuggled against him and went limp. He prayed she stayed asleep until they reached Sylvana Hall and would never remember being here.

  Moments later he was seated in the carriage with Lily resting on his lap. “We will be all right, Lily. You’ll be fine,” he whispered as he nuzzled the curls that teased his chin. They were wet, he realized, wondering how that had come to pass. It had not rained since early afternoon.

  Lily woke with a seriously debilitating headache. She could scarcely open her eyes. Bright light poured through the windows, telling her it was still day. Somehow, she couldn’t figure how she had gotten to bed.

  “Good morning,” Guy said from across the room. She squinted at his form, limned by the sunlight. “How are you feeling?”

  “Dreadful,” she admitted as her stomach lurched. He must have read her face since he rushed forward with a basin just in time. She fell back on the pillows when she had finished, her eyes shut tight against the horrible embarrassment.

  “It’s the laudanum,” he said with a resigned sigh. “To be expected.”

  “You gave me laudanum?” she asked, her voice sounding weak to her own ears.

  “Not I,” he declared.

  She should ask who, but she was too exhausted.

  “Beau’s beside himself. Can you tolerate a brief visit?” he asked softly.

  Lily forced a smile and brief nod. Had she been ill? Of course she had. She still was, she realized. Some sort of ague that had taken her unawares.

  Beau tiptoed in when Guy opened the door. He approached and his small fingers pinched at the bedcovers. “Are you better now, Mama?” he whispered.

  “All better,” she assured him, reaching out to touch his face. “My head hurts a bit, but I expect that will go away very soon.”

  “You aren’t mad anymore?” he asked, desperation clouding his words.

  Lily swallowed hard, bile threatening again. “No, dear. Not to worry.” She motioned with one hand for Guy, who quickly scooped Beau up and hauled him out of the room. She heard them talking as the door closed. Within seconds, Guy was back.

  “I sent him off with Nurse. He only wanted to see for himself that you were recovered.”

  But she was not and she knew it. “The last thing I recall is the noisy gaggle at the vicar’s house,” she told him. “What…what did I do?”

  His hesitation lasted too long.

  “I had another spell, didn’t I?” she guessed.

  He sat on the edge of her bed and took her hands in his. “Yes, but you’re fine now. Awake and fine.”

  “Tell me,” she insisted.

  “Later,” he promised. “I’ll go down and arrange for tea. You need to eat something.”

  Tea. The very last thing in the world she wanted. She closed her eyes, hoping to retreat into sleep again.

  “Am I insane?” she whispered, feeling tears escape when she tried so hard to contain them.

  “No, you’re not insane,” Guy argued vehemently. “I know insanity when I see it, and you’re not insane, Lily, I swear.”

  She blessed him for the lie, but it was no use.

  A soft knock on the door interrupted what he was about to say next. With a huff of impatience, he released her, got up from the bed and went to see who it was.

  “Mr. Bradshaw waits in the library, sir,” Lochland said.

  Guy cursed. Lily could not imagine what would possess Clive to visit Guy.

  He returned to her. “Rest, Lily. I’ll send up something light for you to eat and I’ll be back to join you in a moment.”

  Lily noted the way his jaw clenched and his strong hands had contracted into white-knuckled fists. Anger rolled off him in waves, but she knew it was not directed at her. She somehow sensed it was on her behalf and to do with her brother-in-law, but Guy left before she could question him.

  There wasn’t much a bedridden madwoman could do about it anyway, she thought with a scoff. Suddenly determined to exert what control she could over herself, Lily sat up. A slight dizziness and nausea lingered, but she refused to languish here in bed. Her mind had cleared enough that she could tend to herself. Beau must be frantic about her after seeing her this way.

  She plucked at the unfamiliar garment scratching her skin and wondered where it had come from and why she was wearing such a thing.

  Guy strode toward the library with murder on his mind. He could kill Clive Bradshaw with his bare hands. He flexed them in anticipation. That would surely seal the lid on his jar, however. He’d be locked away and unable to protect Lily and Beau. What would happen to his father? All three would be at risk without him. He took a deep breath before entering the room and reminded himself of the priorities.

  “Bradshaw,” he said with something approaching calm. “What are you doing here?”

  “I came to explain.” Clive made a supplicating gesture. “Believe me, I hated having to take Lily to Plympton. I simply didn’t know what else to do with her.”

  “I guess you used up all your favors at Bedlam, eh?” Guy barked.

  Clive appeared confused. “That horrid place? Never! Besides, London was too far away and she was in dire need of immediate treatment. I figured Plympton was close by and would be convenient for you to visit her.”

  “Visit her?” Guy thundered. “Surely to God you didn’t believe I would leave her there!” He itched to snap Clive’s neck.

  “I suppose not since you never committed your father. I merely came to assure you that I only had Lily’s best interests at heart.”

  “So you had her locked in a lunatic asylum?” He approached Clive, purposely threatening.

  He backed away, glancing at the door as if to make a run for it. “I—I took her there for help, Duquesne! She was raving mad, I tell you. So much so she had to be restrained.” He cuffed his own wrist with shaking fingers and rubbed it. “I hated being responsible for her and no one knew where you had gone. Mother was beside herself in the carriage. Nearly hysterical!”

  “But I notice
you didn’t lock her away, more’s the pity.”

  “Please, be reasonable, Duquesne. Lily is truly ill. Surely you can see she needs constant care.”

  “Which I will provide. Now get out,” Guy growled. “I never want to see you here again or I will use that knife I threatened you with, regardless of the consequences.”

  A wary Clive skirted around him to the door and quickly disappeared. In London, Guy would never have made a threat and not carried it out. He was known for keeping his word to the letter. These were extenuating circumstances, however, and he doubted Bradshaw would spread the news that he had escaped Guy’s wrath unharmed.

  There was something about Clive’s fearfulness and apologetic attitude that gave Guy pause. Why would he risk life and limb doing what he’d done and then come here to face a man who had threatened to kill him? It made no sense. Unless… “Beau!” Guy shouted, and dashed out to find the boy. If Clive had dared take him, Guy would do worse than murder.

  He almost collapsed with relief when he saw Beau clattering down the stairs.

  “Thank God. I thought—” Unable and unwilling to finish the sentence, he joined Beau on the bottom tread where they sat together, out of breath.

  “Mama’s better,” Beau said finally. “I was coming to tell you. She’s dressed and taking tea in her room.”

  “Thank God,” Guy said, blowing out a breath of relief. “What say you and I have a spot of…” He halted, realizing belatedly that Beau was too young to have spirits. At least by standards outside the stews. “Milk,” he finished. “Milk and perhaps some of those dandy biscuits Cook keeps tucked away for emergencies?”

  “Grand idea,” Beau said with a smile. “We shall celebrate Mama getting well again.”

  “Just so,” Guy agreed, getting up and offering Beau a hand.

  He had never felt less like celebrating, but he must keep up a good front for Beau’s sake. And Lily’s, too. There seemed nothing else he could do until the physician arrived from Edinburgh.

  Even then, there was no guarantee anything could be done to prevent further episodes. His heart ached for Lily, for Beau and for himself. And he had never prayed fervently or constantly in his life until today.