The Madness of Lord Westfall

by Mia Marlowe

  Then he started down the deserted hallway. None of the rooms were marked, so he peered through the keyholes to see if they were occupied. He jerked back when he looked into one of the offices and saw his doctor behind a desk. The man’s balding pate was bent over a stack of paperwork. Pierce moved on.

  The next room was similarly furnished, but it was empty, so he opened the door and slipped in.

  “Thank God for those blasted mushrooms,” he muttered. He caught a whiff of civet, lemon oil, and garlic, smells he associated with Dr. Falco. This was the right office. Now Pierce only had to search the desk. Meg Anthony had assured him the letters were there, tied up with a length of pink ribbon.

  He’d only gone through half the drawers when the doorknob jiggled and started to turn. Pierce grabbed the paperweight from the desk, hurried across the room, and stood behind the door as it opened. If he had to, he’d bean the intruder over the head.

  But it wasn’t Dodsworth or one of the other orderlies, and it wasn’t Dr. Falco. It was a thin slip of a lad. Then when the boy turned around, he saw that it wasn’t a boy at all.

  “Honora.” The paperweight fell from his nerveless fingers, thudding harmlessly to the floor. “Are you real?”

  She came to him, arms outstretched, and suddenly he was holding her tight. If she wasn’t real, she was the best hallucination he’d ever had. She’d applied no fresh fragrance, but the smell of mint, lavender, and apples was part of her skin. It was so faint, no one who hadn’t spent time with Falco’s infernal mushroom could have smelled it, but Pierce thought he might drown in the scent and not care one whit. As he kissed her, all the worry, all the longing of the past days, sloughed off him in the wonder of her mouth. He clasped her head to his chest, and her sloppy boy’s hat slid off.

  “What happened to your hair?” He ran his hand over her cropped do.

  “I did it myself so I could get in here to find you.” She palmed his cheeks, and he saw a rising bruise on hers. In fact, her left eye was beginning to swell shut.

  “You didn’t do this to yourself.”

  “No, that was Dodsworth.”

  Pierce had never been a violent man, but if the orderly were within reach, he’d have strangled him.

  “Come,” she said. “We have to get out of here. I think I know a way—”

  “Not until we have what I came for—Albemarle’s letters. I’m certain they’re here in this desk.”

  “You mean you willingly allowed yourself to be committed just so you could help Benedick?”

  “No, I did it for you. If Albemarle has his letters, maybe you’ll feel you can leave him and marry me.” He grasped her hands and kissed her reddened knuckles. “I can’t live without you, Honora. I don’t want to try.”

  “Oh, Pierce.” She hugged him close, but he noticed she didn’t say she’d become his wife. “Let’s find those letters.”

  They began anew, rifling through all the drawers, but they came up empty each time.

  “Are you sure the letters are here?” Nora asked.

  “They were as of the last night I was at Albion Abbey.”

  “How can you know that?” Nora asked, then waved the question away. “Never mind. I’ve given up trying to understand all your secrets. It doesn’t matter how you know it. I believe you. Do you think Falco might have moved the letters?”

  “No, I think we haven’t searched thoroughly enough. Some desks have secret compartments.” Pierce lay down on his back under the desk and felt the dark wood for seams. There seemed to be a place where the wood gave a bit in the far corner. He pushed up on it and a secret space sprang open. “Here.”

  The letters fell out, about twenty of them, judging from the heft of the packet, all tied up, as Meg had said, with a bow.

  “You take them,” he said, shoving them down the front of her ill-fitting trousers. “I have a place to hide them in my cell, but I still haven’t figured out how to leave this place. You can simply quit your position and walk out the front gates with the letters. No one will be the wiser.”

  “No, Pierce, we go together or not at all.”

  But before they could come to an agreement, the sound of voices in the hallway tabled all discussion.

  “Here is how it will go,” Pierce said. “If you love me, say you found me wandering here. Then get out of hospital as soon as you can.” He picked up a sheaf of papers stacked on the desk and flung it skyward. As the door opened, reams of foolscap fluttered to the hardwood floor.

  When Falco entered with Dodsworth on his heels, it certainly looked as if a madman had ransacked the place.

  …

  “What is going on here?” Falco demanded as he glared at Nora. “Who are you?”

  “Oh, that’s just Clarence,” Dodsworth said. “Hired him this morning, but if he don’t follow orders no better than this, he won’t be around for long. Why aren’t you cleaning like I told you?”

  “I was, Mr. Dodsworth.” Nora bobbed her head and slapped her cap back on her shorn locks. The skin on her cheek felt tight, and she was grateful for the shiner because it altered her appearance enough so that Falco didn’t seem to recognize her as the well-dressed courtesan who’d visited the day before. “I was working, just like you told me, when I spied this gentleman—”

  “No gentlemen are committed here,” Falco corrected.

  “Oh, right. In any case, I saw him slipping up the stairs and thought to myself you might not want him wandering up here.” At her words, Pierce smiled, a big dopey smile that would convince anyone he was shy of sense. “I’m sorry I didn’t catch him before he made a mess.”

  She took Pierce’s hand and started to lead him out.

  “Where do you think you’re going?” Falco demanded.

  “The patient seems harmless enough. I’m going to take him back down to the ground floor.”

  “No, this office you are going to straighten,” Falco said. “Dodsworth, he will take Mr. Mycroft to his treatment.”

  “But his doc said no more treatments for this fellow,” the orderly complained.

  “If the patient is exhibiting new symptoms, and wanton destruction of property seems to me to qualify, then new treatment is in order,” Dr. Falco said with a frown. “If you question my judgment again, Dodsworth, you may spend the rest of the day looking for a new position.”

  Sullenly, Dodsworth grabbed Pierce by the collar. “Come on, you.”

  Pierce met Nora’s gaze for a heartbeat and she read a silent message in them. Get out now. Then his eyes seemed to glaze over, and he went with Dodsworth as meekly as a sheep to its shearer.

  Anything to lead them away from her, she realized. She didn’t deserve his devotion. She brought disaster to everyone she loved. Her family had had to face disgrace because of her. Lewis had died trying to be a hero to impress her father because of her. Even Emilia was forced to live a lie because of her. She was damaged and she might not mean to, but she hurt everyone she touched, eventually. Once he was free, she needed to help him understand it, too. For his sake.

  “Where am I taking him?” Dodsworth asked as they neared the door.

  “Mr. Mycroft needs something to wake him up,” Dr. Falco said. “The water chair should do nicely.”

  Honora loves me. She might not have said it straight out, but she showed that she does when she told Falco she’d caught me wandering like I asked her to. She loves me, I know it.

  I can face anything after that.

  ~from the secret journal of Pierce Langdon, Viscount Westfall

  Chapter Twenty-Five

  As soon as the door swung shut behind Pierce and his captors, Nora sank to her knees. She clutched her chest, lest her heart pound its way out. The letters Pierce had risked so much to find were still tucked into her trousers. Clearly, he wanted her to take them and run. Those letters would free Albemarle from his blackmailers and protect the Prince Regent from having that infernal Trust Powder used on him. And if Benedick was free, she could be free, too.

  But her fr
eedom was worthless without Pierce.

  She couldn’t leave him to the chair. She wouldn’t.

  Since she and Vesta had visited the subterranean parts of Bedlam yesterday, the route to that underworld was still fresh in her mind. She took the stairs on tiptoe lest Dodsworth or Dr. Falco hear her above them. Once she reached the basement, she waited for their footfalls to die away before stealing after them.

  The water chamber door closed behind them like a coffin lid.

  She hurried to the door, put a hand to the knob, then drew back. How could she face down both Dodsworth and Dr. Falco at once? She had only one card to play. She had to make it count.

  Her thoughts bounced around like rubber balls. She was never quick enough to catch one. Then as she reached for the knob again, it began to turn on its own. She quickly hid behind the door as it opened.

  Dodsworth came out and plodded down the hall.

  “Hey Dods, how come you’re not with the doc in the water room?” one of the inmates yelled through the small grate in his door. “They always have two watchers. Always.”

  “Dr. Falco sent me away. Think he means to drown this one and don’t want no witnesses. Even did the strappin’ down his own self. All right by me,” the orderly said as he strode on down the hall. “If there’s trouble over it, I won’t be the one who’ll swing for killing the bastard.”

  Nora didn’t wait for more. She pulled open the door to the chamber she’d fled from yesterday, squared her shoulders, and went in.

  Pierce was already in the chair. Dr. Falco hadn’t bothered to have him stripped in his hurry to administer the “treatment.” Water poured over him in torrents, obscuring his form beneath its pounding.

  “What do you think you’re doing here, boy?” Dr. Falco demanded from his position beside the lever that worked the mechanism.

  “Let him out,” Nora said. “Now.”

  Garbled noises came from the chair. Pierce had heard her and was probably trying to tell her to leave him.

  Oh, don’t try to talk, love. It will only mean more water pouring into you.

  She’d intended to barter with Falco for Pierce, to offer to return the letters in exchange for his freedom. She’d betray Benedick. She’d let the royal take his chances with the Trust Powder. Pierce was all that mattered. She had to stop his torture. She dashed forward into the falling water with him.

  It pummeled her head and shoulders, but she managed to tuck her chin and breathe through her mouth. Her fingers found the strap binding one of his arms, and she worked furiously at the buckles. Then a hand grabbed the back of her collar and yanked her out of the indoor waterfall.

  “I will not tolerate this interruption of—wait a moment. You’re not Clarence. You’re not even a boy.” Falco eyed her like a robin might a worm. “You’re Lady Nora Claremont. Benedick’s bitch.”

  She opened her mouth to answer, but his hand closed over her throat. Clawing at him, she fought to free herself, but Falco was too strong. Pinpricks of stars burst behind her eyes. Her vision tunneled.

  Nora sank to her knees. She almost winked out entirely, but then Falco released her, and his feet left the flagstones as if he were capable of levitation. He screamed and then went crashing to the floor. As oxygen streamed into her, her vision came into sharp focus. She must have been successful at freeing one of Pierce’s hands because he’d unfastened the rest of his bonds. He was loose now and bearing a frown worthy of an avenging angel.

  The doctor rolled and crabbed backward trying to get away, but Pierce yanked him to his feet. Falco took a wild swing at him. Pierce dodged the blow and answered it with one of his own. When Pierce’s jab connected with the doctor’s jaw, he collapsed in a heap.

  Then Pierce hurried to Nora and lifted her to her feet. “We have to get you out of here,” he said, his voice hoarse from the water.

  “Only if you come with me.”

  “Say the word and I’ll never leave your side again.”

  The door creaked open and Pierce positioned himself in front of her, fists raised. Then his shoulders relaxed, and he dropped his arms.

  “Come in, Stanstead. I can hear you thinking out there,” he said. “Besides, the hard part is done.”

  Lord Stanstead peered around the door and then entered with Mr. LeGrand dogging his steps. He cast an approving look at the fallen Dr. Falco. “The letters, do you have them?”

  Pierce nodded. “Lady Nora does.”

  “Well done, both of you.”

  “How did you know where we were?” Pierce asked.

  “Miss Anthony is outside the gate,” Stanstead explained. “She couldn’t Find you before, and it fretted her terribly. Finally, she decided the doctors had changed your name and obscured your appearance somehow.”

  “I was called Mr. Mycroft and made to wear a hood until today.”

  “Ah, that explains it. Good thing the hood is gone. Even without the correct name, Miss Anthony was able to Find you based on recognizing your ugly face. She confirmed your location just now, and here we are to help. LeGrand, what are you doing?”

  Nora had no idea what to make of that cryptic conversation, but she didn’t have time to ask for explanations.

  The wiry Frenchman had Dr. Falco draped over his shoulder and was bearing him to the chair in the center of the room. “I have heard of such devices as this. We shall see if the good doctor finds it as beneficial for himself as he seems to think it is for his patients.”

  LeGrand began strapping Falco into the chair.

  “Right. Come now, Westfall,” Stanstead said. “We’re here to break you and Lady Nora out of here.”

  “How will you do that?” she asked.

  “Why, we’ll walk right out the front door, of course,” Stanstead said with a grin. “I’ll be Sending to cover our escape every step of the way.”

  “I need to do something first.” Nora didn’t think much of Lord Stanstead’s plan, and had no idea what he meant by “sending,” but she didn’t have a better suggestion to make at the moment. “There is a patient on the first floor named Mrs. Mounsey. She’s no more insane than Lord Westfall is, but she’s stubborn enough to die here if we don’t bring her with us.”

  “I’ll get her,” Pierce said. “Stanstead, see Lady Honora to safety.”

  “Consider it done,” Lord Stanstead said with a bow to Nora. “My lady.”

  “Pierce, I don’t think we should split up—”

  He pulled her to him for a quick kiss. “Just keep thinking that. I’ll join you as soon as I can with Mrs. Mounsey in tow, and then we’ll never be parted again. Agreed?”

  She nodded, not trusting her voice. She let Lord Stanstead lead her away.

  …

  As Nora left with Lord Stanstead, LeGrand started the water falling without touching the lever. Dr. Falco roused and began making a pathetic bleating sound, amid intermittent sputtering and coughing.

  “Don’t kill him,” Pierce said, feeling the doctor’s terror as if it were his own before he raised his mental shield against Falco’s thoughts.

  “He would have killed you,” LeGrand said.

  “Dr. Falco feels dead inside most of the time already. He hates himself,” Pierce said. “It makes him hate other people, too. Have a little mercy, LeGrand.”

  “Only a little,” LeGrand said. “I’ll leave him here long enough to make sure he doesn’t use this thing on anyone else ever again.”

  When Pierce left the chamber, the water was still falling.

  Still dripping from his stint in the water chair, he squelched along the corridor and up the stairs to the first floor. “Mrs. Mounsey,” he called as loudly as he dared.

  There was no answer.

  He peered into a number of rooms, but no one responded with a sensible answer when he asked where Mrs. Mounsey might be.

  A woman with white tufts of hair ambled toward him with a beatific smile. She babbled in sweet tones and even managed to singsong “I love you” intelligibly once or twice.

 
If the only thing her mental disease left her with was “I love you,” Pierce decided she must have been a wonderful person at one time. But as she neared him, her hand dipped into her pocket, and something metallic flashed.

  “Violet!” came a voice from behind him. “You put that shank back in your pocket now, or I’ll tell Dodsworth on you.”

  Violet’s shoulders hunched, and her smile turned into a gargoyle’s frown. The old woman scuttled back the way she came.

  Pierce lowered his mental shield and realized the person who’d intervened was Mrs. Mounsey. He turned to face her. “Lady Honora Claremont has sent me to find you and take you away from here.”

  “Lady Honora?” The woman chuckled. “You mean to say that skinny little Clarence is not only a woman, but a lady to boot? Lud, that do beat all. Well, don’t be standing there like a ninny. If you’re here to save me, get to saving.”

  Pierce wondered if the woman would have said anything differently if she’d known he was a viscount. He doubted it.

  “This way,” he said, indicating that she should precede him down the hall to the stairwell. They moved smoothly through the ranks of wandering patients until they reached the ground floor. Then Pierce decided this was no time to be gentlemanly. It would be better if he led the way, in case they encountered trouble.

  He kept his shield up, knowing he’d be inundated with too many minds chattering at once to give him useful information. As he rounded the last corner before the vestibule at the front door, he nearly ran into Dodsworth.

  Before he could strike a blow, the big orderly pulled out his wooden club and landed a solid clout to Westfall’s temple. He staggered and collapsed to the floor. His last coherent thought was that the front door must be open, because he could see only light.

  Lord, I have not asked You for much over the last few years. In fact, I doubt You’d listen if I did. But I’m not asking for myself this time. I ask, no, I beg, for the life and mind of Pierce Langdon. Bring him back to me and I will never ask You for more.