Color of Danger (The Sullyard Sisters Book 2)

by Ruth J. Hartman

  Relieved to have someone’s problem to focus on rather than her own, Lydia suddenly wished to know more. To understand what had happened. “Is there some deficiency in your eyesight?”

  “No. That’s not the problem.” He shifted a little to the left, putting more of his weight on that foot.

  “Oh, you must be uncomfortable in that position. Here, sit down next to me.” Her sisters had always teased her about being too prim. How she pointed out when others had broken even the smallest rules. Lydia glanced down and winced. And there she sat, practically naked for anyone to see and inviting a man to join her. The thought of doing the same in her own home was preposterous. Yet, at Bedlam, life was altered. A completely different world, apart from the rest of London and all of England. In a way, it was. Did the average citizen living nearby have any idea of what went on inside?

  Stratford eyed the floor with distaste. Lydia didn’t blame him. He gave her hand a squeeze and then released her. Sadness, merciless and quick, swam through her. They’d only held hands for a few moments, but it had meant the world to her. How she would miss that comforting touch. The sweet gift of human interaction.

  He stood and reached over to grab the lantern that he’d placed on the floor. He held it above the floor surrounding Lydia. Bending at the waist, Stratford moved the lamp around the small area, causing the light to creep into the shadows. Was he checking for vermin? Again, she’d not blame him in the least. She’d wanted to do the same when she’d first arrived and would have if they’d let her have her own lantern. And if she hadn’t been chained to one spot.

  Lydia’s heart sank when he straightened and replaced the lamp on the floor. Was he going to leave? His visit had seemed heaven-sent to her. When he left, she’d be back where she was before. Alone. Bereft.

  But when he sat down next to her and leaned his back against the damp wall, she was instantly cheered. He wasn’t leaving! At least not yet. Warmth encompassed her when he reached for her hand of his own accord, cocooning it in one of his.

  “As for your earlier question, again, no my eyesight is fine. It’s…” He lifted one shoulder in a shrug. “It isn’t easy to explain.”

  “Just try. I’d like to help.”

  He stared at her. “You want to help me? When your problems are a million times worse than anything I’ve ever experienced.”

  “It will do me good to focus on something besides my own troubles.”

  With a tilt of his head, he gazed from her forehead to her chin. A part of her wanted to turn away, to not have him see her at her very worst. And yet, she couldn’t. No, she wanted to look back into his eyes and see what secrets were buried there. Would she like what she discovered?

  “Lydia, what an incredible woman you are.”

  Shock rolled through her. “I… I am?” No, that would be Kitty.

  “To care about someone, anyone, else while you are… well, where you are.”

  She shrugged, suddenly shy. How she’d longed to hear such kind words from him since the day she’d first set eyes on him several months ago. To have it happen in such dire circumstances made the words all the more special. Loving his sentiment but longing to take the focus from herself, she asked, “Can you try to explain to me why you think you can’t read?”

  “I shall try.” He smiled briefly and squeezed her hand. “When I see the written word, everything looks to be in a jumble, as if someone had taken the letters, shaken them up in a bucket, and poured them out in a disorganized pile.”

  “How perplexing.”

  “It is, yes.”

  “And you never told any of your tutors so perhaps they could have helped you?”

  He ducked his head. “I was too ashamed.”

  Lydia ached for the little boy he must have been — too proud to say anything, so he tried to overcome it with big talk and showy ways. Had that been part of the reason for being a rake? To try to measure in one way because he couldn’t in another? “For lack of anything to keep my mind from my troubles, perhaps you’d allow me to…”

  “To…”

  “Help you.”

  “Read, you mean?”

  “Or at least maybe you and I together can come up with why the words are jumbled.”

  He raised one eyebrow. “You would do that?”

  Right at that moment, she’d do just about anything for him. “You came to my rescue today. The last few days.”

  “But I wasn’t able to accomplish the one thing you asked of me. To read you Kitty’s note.”

  “You’ve done something much better. You came into this awful pit and gave me the gift of your company. You’ll never know…” Lydia blinked back tears.

  With a feather light touch, he reached up with his hand and, so gently she scarcely felt it, wiped away her tears with his thumb. “I’m glad I could help you. At least a little bit.”

  She held her breath, wanting to capture the moment and hold it forever. Then she gave a sigh. “Though I’d like to assist you with reading today, I’m afraid that’s impossible.”

  “Oh, your vision. I’m so sorry this has happened to you.”

  “Thank you for saying that.”

  “I say it because I… care.” After clearing his throat, he said, “If I may ask…” He raised his eyebrows as he paused.

  “You may ask me anything.” She was so exposed in mind and body, she had nothing to hide. Well, almost nothing. Miss Queensbury’s involvement was still a secret.

  “How did you happen to end up here? You don’t seem to me to be…” Even in the dim light, Lydia could see his face darken in embarrassment.

  “I don’t appear to be mad? That’s because I’m not.” How many times had she tried to convince her keepers of that fact?

  He turned his hand, palm up. “Then…”

  “I’m afraid some facts were kept secret from me.” While she was privy to those facts now, they had been held back from her until very recently. She couldn’t tell him the truth.

  “Secrets can often be detrimental, can they not?”

  Startled to think perhaps he’d read her thoughts, her eyes flew to his. “Yes.”

  Silence ensued. Was he waiting for her to say more? She clenched her other hand into a fist at her side. She wanted to tell him about Miss Queensbury. Longed to speak of it to free herself of the burden of the terrible knowledge of her dilemma. But Stratford was the one person it would hurt the most.

  With a sigh, Stratford straightened. “I suppose I must be going. I’ve been remiss at Father’s office. Again.”

  How selfish I’ve been. With the time he’d spent there with her, she’d not even given any consideration to where he should have been. “I do hope you won’t suffer any consequences on my behalf.”

  “Even if I did, how could it possibly compare to what you’ve already endured, my brave lady?” He ran his finger down her cheek and stood. With a small wave to her, he stepped to the door and called to the matron through the bars.

  After she’d heard his final footfalls on the stone floor in the corridor as he left, Lydia found her pencil, rose up on her knees, and began to work on her panorama again. This time, George had discovered a thin ray of sunshine in which to bask.

  Lydia smiled.

  Thank you, Stratford.

  Chapter Nine

  Following a tense argument, Stratford finally convinced his father why it was so important that he alter his work schedule in order to keep visiting Lydia. His father, a strict disciplinarian concerned about making money above all else, capitulated, but not without much grumbling and not a little cursing. Besides, Father knew that Stratford would do what he wished, so arguing with him wouldn’t have accomplished anything. After all the years of Stratford pushing his work off on Nathaniel, Father should be used to it by now.

  When Stratford once again reached Lydia’s cell, he was not at all prepared for what greeted him. There lay Lydia, on the straw…

  Naked.

  He nearly stumbled as he stepped inside. He turned toward
the keeper. “What’s the meaning of this?”

  The woman shrugged and unceremoniously slammed the door closed with Stratford inside. That much he was used to. Seeing Lydia without a stitch on, he wasn’t. Her arms covered her breasts, and her legs were drawn up so Stratford couldn’t see anything of a more private nature. Thank goodness. The poor girl would be appalled otherwise. Her pale skin bore angry bruises, some purple and fresh, others yellowed with time. Small patches of what looked like dried blood stained the back of one arm. Were they bleeding her?

  Lydia raised her tear-stained face to him, but upon seeing who had entered, she shrieked and turned her back, curling into a ball. Was she trying to cover herself? Could he blame her? But all he could think about was her. Her discomfort. Embarrassment. As quickly as he could, he unbuttoned his coat, tossed the parcel of food on the edge of the straw, and stripped off his outer garment. He spread it across her back, longing to pull it farther over her body but not wanting to make her plight even worse than it already was by touching her bare skin.

  Without looking at him, and still with her back turned, Lydia reached over and grasped the fabric of his coat, tugging it around her like a cocoon. Only after she’d successfully covered her most intimate places did she roll over and sit up.

  He crouched down. When he spoke, he kept his voice low, as he would if trying to coax a frightened animal out of an opened trap. “Lydia, what happened?”

  She shrugged, but even that was half-hearted. Was she more weakened than before? Had they taken her rations again? He grabbed the towel-covered food and instead of handing it to her, unwrapped it himself, tore off a piece of cheese, and held it close to her mouth.

  Lydia raised her impossibly large dark eyes to meet his. Without reaching for the food with her hands as he’d half expected her to do, she opened her lips for the morsel. With the way Lydia used to act prior to Bedlam, Stratford was certain she never would have allowed him such an intimate gesture before. After she’d chewed and swallowed, she let out a sigh of contentment.

  Stratford shook his head. How things must have changed for her. That eating a single bite of cheese from the hand of someone she didn’t even know that well would bring her such relief. “Do you have anything to drink?”

  She shook her head, long strands of dark hair whipping against her cheek.

  Sudden fury overtook Stratford and he stood. “Wait here.”

  Lydia let out a quick laugh, the sound like the squawk of an old crow. “And just where do you think I’d run off to?”

  He chuckled, amazed that she could keep a sense of humor under the circumstances. He felt certain were their roles reversed, he’d not think anything amusing. “You do have a point.” He turned and stalked to the window in the door. Peering through the bars, he yelled, “Keeper? I say, Keeper! Come here at once!”

  Slow steps brought the same woman to the door who had allowed him entrance. Her scowl made her already unattractive face nearly frightening. “What is it? I’ve work to do.”

  “Why does Miss Sullyard not have any food or clothing? Not even a drink of water to wet her parched lips. Are you trying to kill her?” He winced at his own words, immediately sorry that Lydia had heard them. Well, there’s nothing for it now. He glared at the woman on the other side of the door and waited.

  She gave a slow shrug but wouldn’t meet his eyes. “Not up to me, now it is?”

  “What’s that supposed to mean? Isn’t your job to be caring for the patients?”

  “O’course. But some things override me orders.”

  He grasped the bars in the small window until his knuckles turned white. From between clenched teeth, he ground out, “What things might those be?”

  She gave a quick check over her shoulder and back. With her voice low, she said, “That woman, she gave me money. Told me what to do.”

  Woman? Did she mean the matron? “Listen, I already gave her some money when I came in. I’ve given her some every time I’ve come in.” Thank goodness he had the funds with which to do so.

  The keeper frowned. “No, not her. She don’t give out bribes. Only takes them.”

  “Then who?”

  “Don’t know her name. Some lady paid me, said to make sure Miss Sullyard was kept — Now how did she put it? — miserable.”

  “Blast it all! You will get her a blanket. And food and water. Right this instant.” He stomped his boot against the floor even though she couldn’t view it from the other side of the door.

  “But the woman paid me to—”

  “I’ll pay you more. Whatever she paid you to deny Miss Sullyard the bare essentials for survival I will double to make sure she has what she needs. If you don’t comply, you will indeed be sorry. And I will be here every single day to make sure you’ve done your duty.” He rose up on his toes to appear taller and lowered his voice to a menacing growl. “Do I make myself clear?”

  Her head bobbed up and down several times. “Oh yes, sir, certainly, sir.” With that, she scurried off with rapid footfalls that echoed off the corridor walls.

  Stratford turned, embarrassed that Lydia had heard the exchange, but what choice had he had? He supposed he could have requested to speak to the keeper in private somewhere away from the cell, but his fury had overtaken him and the words had spilled out.

  Lydia peered up at him. “Thank you.”

  He stepped back across the cell until he stood beside her. “It was nothing.”

  “Not to me. To me, it was everything. My life. My very existence.”

  He blinked. The poor, poor girl. How much more could she take?

  Lydia clutched the coat around her shoulders. Her long lashes swept against pale cheeks as she surveyed her garment. “Your coat will be ruined now. You’ll not want it back after I’ve worn it. I’m not… that is, I’ve not been allowed a bath since I’ve come.” A pink blush flooded her cheeks.

  Stratford waved a hand. “I don’t give a rat’s arse about the coat. Keep it.”

  She tilted her head as she studied him. “Rat’s arse?”

  Oh… He remembered what she’d said about the rat in her cell. How frightening that must have been for her. And there he had to go and remind her of it. “Pardon my choice of words.”

  Of all things, Lydia smiled. “No, I think it quite appropriate, actually. The next time the vile rodent decides to visit, I’ll just conjure up an image of him nailed to the wall by his…” She blinked. “Arse.”

  Stratford grinned, thrilled to have brought her some levity at such a terrible time. “Then I’m very glad to have used those words.”

  He sat down next to her on the straw. The surface crunched beneath him as he moved. How was a patient expected to get any rest on that? He eyed his coat that now hung loosely over Lydia’s thin frame. Her skin must be nearly raw from lying naked for hours on the rough surface. He placed his arm around her shoulders and pulled her close.

  Her eyes opened wide and she gasped. “What are you—”

  He hadn’t meant to alarm her, but removed his arm. “Pardon me. I… I only meant to give you some comfort.”

  She blinked. “Thank you. Forgive me for reacting in such a manner. I should have known you wouldn’t be like—”

  “Like, who?”

  She shook her head and glanced away.

  Oh. The keeper. “Lydia,” He placed his finger beneath her chin to make her face him. “I realize I have always been known as a rake.”

  She lifted on eyebrow.

  “Very well. I have been a rake, but please believe me when I tell you that I would never, ever take advantage of your situation. You do believe me?”

  She blinked and peered up at him. “Yes. I do.”

  “Thank you.”

  “Even if you hadn’t said it, I… I would have known.”

  “But with my reputation, how could you be sure?”

  “It’s as I told you before. You’re different. Something has changed. The very fact that you keep coming to visit me when you don’t have to tells me
that.”

  “Your sister did ask me to come, remember.”

  “True.” She paused for a few seconds. “Is that the only reason you’re here?”

  He knew the answer without a doubt. “No. I’m here because I want to be. I’m here for you.”

  A lone tear descended slowly from her eye down her cheek. Lydia let go of the coat for a moment to wipe it away. “You are a good man, Stratford.”

  He laughed, loving the feeling that came from his toes. “I do think that’s a first.”

  She smiled. “Perhaps it won’t be the last.”

  “We can hope.” He took a deep breath. Why did he suddenly have trouble breathing? While it was true that the odor of the place hadn’t improved any, it was more than that. When he sat next to Lydia, all he wanted to do was protect her. Help her. Free her from the terrible hell that was Bedlam.

  He reached for the packet of food. “You should eat some more. Otherwise, a stiff breeze might carry you off.”

  She took a piece of bread and ate it. “I hate to say it, but if there were to be such a breeze, there wouldn’t be anywhere for it to take me.” She tilted her head toward the door. “I’m trapped in here. In case you forgot.”

  “I didn’t forget.”

  The sound of a key in the door startled him. He stood, ready to do battle with anyone who was intent on doing Lydia further harm. But when he moved toward the door, he could just see the top of someone’s head.

  The door opened. The keeper had returned. She sheepishly stepped around Stratford and placed a folded blanket, a bowl of some sort of gruel, and a jar of water next to Lydia on the floor.

  With a curtsey for Stratford, the woman rushed from the room and locked the door. Had she thought Stratford might do her harm? He rubbed his hand down his face. Of course she had. He’d threatened her if she didn’t take care of her patient properly.

  And he’d do it again and again until he could procure freedom and justice for Lydia.