by Darcy Burke
Early Saturday afternoon, Ned awaited the arrival of Lady Satterfield and Miss Knox. He stood in the entrance court at Bethlehem while his aunt perched on a bench. The day was dry but dreary after yesterday’s torrential rain.
“What exactly do you have planned for today?” Aunt Susannah asked from beneath her wide-brimmed bonnet.
“The superintendent is allowing me to take the countess and Miss Knox on a private tour. He’s given me a list of items that they can solicit in their various charitable organizations.”
Aunt Susannah looked up at him, her lips pursing slightly. “Yes, yes, I mean what do you have planned with regard to Miss Knox?”
“I plan to observe her in this environment.” It went beyond that, of course. He was looking forward to seeing her. He’d thought of little else since their promenade two days ago.
She chuckled. “Don’t be obtuse, my boy.”
He wasn’t being obtuse, he was being practical. He’d always been logical and methodical with his approach to marriage because his situation required it. That in this case sentimentality might be affecting his actions wasn’t something he wanted to contemplate.
Aunt Susannah scrutinized him. “Miss Knox is different. You are moving much more quickly than usual.”
“Because I have to. I’m competing with another suitor.”
“Is it really a competition?”
Ned had received a reply that morning from Miss Knox’s father with regard to Ned’s request to court her. “Sir Chester Knox’s letter said I had until Friday to offer for her, and even then he may decide to accept Lindsell instead. He made it clear that Lindsell is offering land in addition to his name.”
Aunt Susannah made a rather unladylike sound that provoked a smile from Ned. “Preposterous. You’re a bloody earl. He should be quite pleased to have you marry his daughter over the likes of Lindsell.”
Yes, he should. Ned had a discomfiting sensation that there was more to this situation than he knew. It made him even more curious about Miss Knox and heightened his desire to learn everything he could about her.
Everything?
Yes, everything. She was—probably—going to be his wife.
“He’s an idiot,” Aunt Susannah said. “So today is incredibly important, then, since you must make a decision rather quickly. I shall do everything I can to assist you.” She gave him a pointed, determined look that again made him smile.
“I don’t know what I would do without you, Aunt.”
“Flounder, my boy, you’d flounder.” She winked at him as the sound of a carriage drew them both to turn their heads toward the drive. It was Lady Satterfield’s coach. “Quickly, before they join us, you were going to tell me about the letter from Dr. Paget. What did he say?”
Ned had received a second letter that morning—from Dr. Paget. He’d begun telling his aunt about it when they’d been interrupted by Ned’s secretary. “It was just a typical daily update. Well, typical for George. He got his hands on a pair of livery and was trying to sneak into the stable to take a vehicle. He said he wanted to drive me to the village when I came home next time.”
Aunt Susannah laughed softly. “I rather wish I’d seen that. You must let him drive you around the estate.”
Ned had contemplated the same thing. Their father had taught George to drive at fourteen, and he’d been an excellent whip. “I will discuss it with Dr. Paget.”
While they’d talked, Ned had been watching the coach. Lady Satterfield had descended, and now Miss Knox followed. She wore a bright yellow gown—the color of his mother’s favorite marigolds at Sutton Park—that brightened the entire entrance court. She was a brilliant wash of sunlight in a dark and dismal place. His heart skipped a beat.
He helped Aunt Susannah to her feet, and they turned to greet Lady Satterfield and Miss Knox. The latter wore a light blue bonnet that complemented the small flowers embroidered on the sleeves of her gown. The blue accented her eyes, and he found he could look at little else.
After bowing to Lady Satterfield as decorum demanded, he turned his full attention to Miss Knox. Dark curls framed her ivory temples, and her lush, strawberry lips parted slightly as she returned his regard.
He took her hand and pressed a kiss to the back of her glove. “I’m so pleased you could join me today, Miss Knox.”
She dropped into a curtsey. “The pleasure is mine, my lord. Thank you for inviting us.”
Aunt Susannah, who’d taken her hand from his arm when he’d made his bows, gestured for him to escort Miss Knox. “Lady Satterfield and I will walk ahead so that I may tell her all about our endeavors here.”
Lady Satterfield smiled widely as she linked arms with his aunt. “I’m enthusiastic to hear about your work. I’ve already stirred up interest in donating items to the hospital.” She looked at Ned. “Thank you for the list you sent. I do hope we can add to it today.”
“I’m certain we can.” He tucked Miss Knox’s hand over his arm and glanced toward her, murmuring, “Shall we?”
She nodded, and they followed the older women to the entrance. “I read about the hospital when it first opened. It seems to be a great improvement over the last one.”
“Yes, the building in Moorfields was in grave disrepair.” It went beyond that as the building had, in fact, been constructed on an old rubbish heap. “This building isn’t perfect, but it’s a vast improvement.” There were no windows on the cells, and there were heating deficiencies on the upper floors. He pestered the board of governors regularly to fix these problems and also monitored the House of Commons Select Committee on Madhouses, which sought to better regulate asylums in the wake of numerous cases involving mistreatment and neglect.
Ned held the door for Miss Knox as they walked into the hall where the superintendent was waiting for them. Malster was a middle-aged fellow with dark, thinning hair and sideburns that nearly reached his chin. He bowed to the ladies as he welcomed them to the hospital.
“I thought we would start our tour with the offices here.” He showed them the physician’s room, which was not currently in use, as well as the apothecary’s shop where medicine was dispensed. “The staff who reside here, such as myself, have their apartments here as well.”
“Who else lives here with the patients?” Miss Knox asked.
“There is a steward,” he said, leading them toward a chamber that looked out onto the airing spaces to the rear of the building. “And here is where patients may visit with their family and friends.”
Inside, a man sat staring at the window flanked by a younger man and woman. They spoke to him in soft tones, the woe in their gazes giving lie to the smiles they wore.
Ned looked at Miss Knox, who watched the scene with interest.
“Do many of the patients have visitors?” she asked.
“Some do, but many do not,” Malster answered. “At least not often. It’s a pity, but some of our patients are admitted and never have a single visitor.” He shook his head in dismay.
Ned couldn’t help but think of the countless times he’d visited George in the old hospital and how awful it had been. He’d already been there for three years before Ned had been allowed to see him. His father had said it wasn’t an appropriate place for a boy. Although at fourteen, Ned had argued that he wasn’t a boy. When he was seventeen, he’d simply gone to the hospital on his own.
Malster looked at Ned. “Did you still wish to tour the ladies’ ward?”
Ned surveyed the ladies. “If you are all inclined.”
Lady Satterfield touched her gloved fingertips to her temple. “I’m actually feeling a bit light-headed. If you’ll excuse me, I think I’ll take a turn outside.”
Aunt Susannah turned toward her. “I’ll join you, if you like.”
The countess responded with a faint smile. “Thank you, that would be lovely.” She looked to Miss Knox. “Is that all right?”
Miss Knox’s brow knitted with concern. “Yes, although if you aren’t feeling well, perhaps we should return
home.”
“Nonsense. You’ve been looking forward to this tour.” Lady Satterfield’s smile brightened. “Anyway, you won’t be gone too long, I imagine.” She gave them both an approving nod and turned toward the entrance with Ned’s aunt, who tossed him an encouraging glance.
Ned wondered if they were trying to facilitate a connection between him and Miss Knox. He could see his aunt doing such a thing, but Lady Satterfield? She’d intimated that she favored a match between him and her ward. Whatever the reason, Ned appreciated the opportunity to have Miss Knox to himself.
The superintendent cleared his throat.
Almost to himself.
They walked to the ladies’ gallery, which was on the west side of the building. Malster unlocked the door and held it open while they walked inside.
“This is so spacious,” Miss Knox remarked. “It reminds me of a gallery in a great house.”
“They were designed to be just like them,” Ned said. “The intent is to provide a place for exercise in inclement weather.”
“As with the galleries in great houses,” she mused. “Of course. How wonderful that the patients have that opportunity.” She smiled at him, clearly impressed.
And so was he. He could see she was taking everything in, noting every detail, and she wasn’t doing so just to be polite. She was genuinely interested.
“Can you tell me about the treatment offered to the patients?” she asked the superintendent.
“There’s a variety, and of course the physician could speak to it better than I could.”
Ned buried his scowl at the mention of Dr. Monro. With any luck, he would be dismissed soon. The man’s treatment of patients was more akin to torture.
Malster showed her the patients’ rooms with their barred openings in the doors. He led them down to the day room, situated at the left end of the gallery. “Here is where the ladies may come for entertainment and socialization.”
There were a few tables and several seating areas. A half-dozen or so women sat about the room, and one stood in the corner studying her hands.
“What do they do here?” Miss Knox asked.
“They might read, if they are able. Or sometimes we allow them to paint. On occasion they might play a game. A few of the patients like cards.”
Miss Knox looked from Malster to Ned. “Is there anything we can provide to augment their entertainment? Books or activities or games? Perhaps they might like backgammon.”
Malster chuckled. “I don’t know if they could manage that.”
Ned loved that she mentioned backgammon, and he thought of George. He narrowed his eyes at Malster, whom Ned found a bit lacking in the area of true empathy. “I’m certain many of them could manage it.” He looked at Miss Knox, delighted by her wondrous demeanor. She was far exceeding his expectations at every turn. “Yes, I think backgammon would be an excellent diversion.”
She smiled and nodded. “I’d be happy to come and play with them sometime.” A bit of her glow faded as she added, “If I may, that is.”
Because her future was currently uncertain. Hopefully he could rectify that.
The steward, a man Ned had met many times, entered the day room and approached Malster. “May I have a word, sir?”
Looking a bit harassed, the superintendent exhaled. “Can’t it wait? As you can see, I’m entertaining his lordship.”
The steward gave Ned an apologetic glance. “Yes, sir, and I wouldn’t interrupt if it wasn’t important.”
Malster glanced toward the heavens and nodded. “Let us be quick about it, then.” He looked to Ned. “Please excuse me, my lord.”
They departed the day room, leaving Ned and Miss Knox with the patients. She was studying them intently, her face a mixture of curiosity and compassion. “I can’t imagine such a life,” she murmured.
The grace and tenderness in her tone stirred his hope. Perhaps she could accept George.
Suddenly, the woman in the corner started hitting herself in the head. She began to mutter and rock from her left foot to her right and back again.
Miss Knox looked around the day room. “Isn’t there an attendant?”
Ned took stock and realized there were only patients. “There doesn’t seem to be.” This lack of supervision—a recurring problem—was one of the reasons Ned would never send George back to a place like this. At Sutton Park, a footman or Dr. Paget or someone was never far from him.
Miss Knox made her way to the corner to the agitated woman.
Ned followed her, whispering, “Don’t touch her.” He’d seen what an upset lunatic could do.
She moved close to the woman, but not too close. “There, there,” she murmured softly, comfortingly. “Can I help you?”
The woman’s eyes fixed on Miss Knox for the barest moment. “No!” She turned toward the corner, presenting her back. She began to hit herself harder and also to pull at the dull, limp hair that had escaped the bun twisted at the back of her head.
“She likes Shakespeare, if you know any,” another of the patients said from the middle of the room where she perched on a settee. “But you should get the keeper. She needs to go back to her room. She gets uncomfortable if she’s out too long.”
Miss Knox immediately launched into one of Shakespeare’s sonnets, which shouldn’t have surprised Ned. He found himself listening to her soft, lilting voice instead of hastening to find the keeper.
“O how much more doth beauty beauteous seem,
By that sweet ornament which truth doth give!
The rose looks fair, but fairer we it deem
For that sweet odour which doth in it live.”
The woman stopped hitting herself by the end of the second line, and by the end of the third had turned back to face Miss Knox. Her light brown eyes were wide and docile now as she stared, rapt, at Miss Knox.
Miss Knox nodded toward Ned, her gaze connecting with his and wordlessly communicating that he should fetch the keeper. Then she continued with the sonnet.
Ned reluctantly made himself retreat, but he moved slowly, both because he was loath to leave her lovely recitation and because he wasn’t entirely certain he wanted to leave her alone with the unpredictable patient.
He finally forced himself to leave the day room and head toward the keeper’s chamber, all the while feeling a growing certainty that Miss Knox could be the woman he’d been looking for.
And then he heard a scream.
The woman’s shriek pierced Aquilla’s ears like lightning breaking across the sky. One moment she’d been reciting Shakespeare to the placid patient, the next, the woman was screaming.
And then she leapt forward.
“Give me your dress!” she demanded shrilly as her hands reached for Aquilla’s shoulders.
Aquilla, still shocked by the rapid change, didn’t move quite quickly enough and the patient was able to grab her bodice. As Aquilla jerked backward, the woman pulled, and the sound of tearing fabric filled the air.
Gasping, Aquilla pushed at the woman’s hands and leapt back, slamming into the wall behind her. But the woman kept coming forward, her hands grasping, her eyes wild.
Then she was simply gone.
Well, not simply. She was lifted off the ground and was currently kicking and spitting at her captor. It was Sutton.
A tall woman with stern features ran into the day room. “Mary, stop that at once!” She rushed to Sutton. “I’m so sorry, my lord.”
The patient—Mary—went limp in Sutton’s arms. He lowered her to the floor, and she sank to her knees, sobbing. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to. Her dress is just so pretty. Yellow is my favorite color.”
Aquilla’s heart squeezed. The fear she’d felt a moment ago vanished in the face of this woman’s suffering. Aquilla crept forward and squatted next to her—though not too close.
“Yellow is my favorite color too,” she said softly. “Would you like a yellow dress, Mary? I can bring you one when I visit next time.”
Mary turned her head
, her tears slowing. She gaped at Aquilla. “You would bring me a dress?”
Aquilla nodded. It was difficult to gauge Mary’s age, but Aquilla suspected she wasn’t much older than her own twenty-four years. What had made her like this? Or had she spent her entire life in such a state? It didn’t matter. Aquilla only wanted to ease her plight in whatever way she could. And goodness, she could bring the poor woman a gown. “I would. And perhaps a ribbon for your hair.”
The stern-faced woman reached down and grabbed Mary by the elbow, then pulled her to stand. “My apologies again, my lord. I’m the keeper for this ward.”
Sutton looked at Aquilla. “Are you all right?”
“Yes, thank you.” She belatedly realized her gown was torn and, glancing down, surveyed the damage. It wasn’t terrible, but her undergarments were plainly visible. She held up the torn fabric to cover herself.
“I have pins on the dresser in my room,” the keeper said. “It’s across the gallery on the right side, and I left the door ajar in my haste. Please excuse me while I see to Mary.”
“Of course,” Sutton said.
Aquilla stepped forward and took Mary’s hand. It was like ice, and a chill transferred to Aquilla, making her shudder. “I promise I’ll bring you that dress, Mary. Please be well.”
Mary didn’t respond but stared at her as the keeper pulled her away and steered her from the room. Some of the other patients watched the scene with stark interest, while others seemed utterly oblivious.
Sutton’s deep voice invaded her thoughts. “Come, we should get you pinned together.”
Aquilla mentally shook herself. “Yes, thank you.”
He went to the corner where Aquilla’s bonnet had toppled from her head in the scuffle and plucked it from the floor. Keeping it in his hand, he offered her his arm. She laid her hand on his jacket, and he led her from the day room. They crossed the gallery to the open door of the keeper’s chamber.
Sutton pushed the door wider and escorted her inside. A window on the opposite wall flooded the space with milky light from the gray day. It didn’t do much to brighten the spartan room, however, with its simple furnishings and noticeable lack of anything but the barest essentials.
