“I need a moment of privacy,” Edyth announced and lifted her chin and glared at them, daring them to say no.
They looked to one another before Meyer shrugged and nodded. “Fine. Take her to the outhouse, but hurry.”
Holden gripped her by the arm, squeezing a whimper out of her as he jerked her down the dock. “If you try anything, I’ll see to it that you get worse than a few bruises once on board. Your uncle won’t begrudge me once he hears you attempted to escape and that a beating was the only way I could subdue you.”
She wrinkled her nose at the burning scent of his breath. Lord, give me an escape.
He threw open the door of a small shack and pointed to a primitive toilet in the corner, a board with a hole cut out of it. “You have three minutes. Any longer and I’ll come in here no matter if you’re ready or not.” He sent her a toothy grin that sent shivers down to her toes as he loosed her bonds.
Alone at last, she scrambled to the corner of the room where the only window was covered by a filthy, ragged curtain. She tossed it aside and nearly cried when she saw that the window was haphazardly boarded up. She jerked on the moldy boards, but they didn’t even budge. Grunting in consternation, she searched the nauseating outhouse for anything she could use as a weapon, but the only item in the room was an old catalog hanging from a string attached to a nail in the wall, its torn pages lying motionless. She gave the nail a jerk, but it was embedded far deeper than it appeared.
“I’m coming in now.” A voice boomed, and Edyth scurried to the door and let herself out of the outhouse into the breeze smelling of fish.
“Come on.” Holden pulled her toward the ferry.
Passing a group of sailors lumbering down the dock, Edyth elbowed the man gripping her arm and threw herself into the men that she normally would have avoided at all costs. “You have to help me! These men are taking me against my will.” Her frantic gaze flew from man to man in the group, some grinning, some bored, and a few slack-jawed.
Holden made a swipe for her, but she ducked his fist and ran into the chest of one of the sailors, a young lad with kind eyes who grasped her elbow, steadying her. “Did they kidnap you, miss?”
“Yes.” She grasped the front of his shirt in both her fists, the desperation to be heard and understood causing her to disregard all propriety. “If you help me escape them, I will reward you handsomely. You see how I am dressed. I can follow through with my promise.”
“That one’s as mad as they come. We’re taking her to Blackwell’s Island.” Meyer spat a wad of tobacco juice at her slippers.
Sadness filled the young man’s expression as he shook his head, his hold loosening on her. “I’m so sorry, miss. I wish I could help you, but if you are heading to the island, there is naught I can do but pray for you.”
“But I’m not mad. I’m not,” Edyth fairly whimpered as he stepped away from her and followed the rest of his mates. “You have to believe me.” Someone has to believe me. She sank to her knees, her palms hanging open at her sides.
“I warned you.” Holden gripped her by the arm, his fingers digging until she cried out. He stuffed the filthy rag between her teeth, his calloused fingers brushing her tongue and leaving behind a taste that made her want to retch as he secured the gag in place and haphazardly wrapped the rope around her wrists. He dragged her tripping down the plank into a waiting ferry with what appeared to be a sleepy crew and captain and joined his fellow henchman. “Need to have us a good long smoke after we deposit this banshee, eh, Meyer?”
Grasping her elbows, the two steered her into a cabin that looked like it had been accumulating grime for years with a smell to match. Shoved inside, she was left to find a seat on one of the narrow benches lining the walls while the two men stood just outside the doorway. She clawed at the gag, desperate for air, and spat to free her mouth of the vile residue left from the man’s grubby fingers. Eyes glazed over, Edyth ignored the benches and stumbled toward a small cot on the far wall. But one glance at it, and she knew it would smell even worse than it appeared. She tucked her nose into her shoulder, inhaling the lingering scent of her favorite perfume as tears escaped her lashes and desperation threatened to consume her. “Lord help me.” Her prayer slipped from her lips.
Her tears fell unrestrained, and she bit at the knot at her wrists, working away at the already loose rope. She checked to ensure the two guards had not noticed, but they were busy flirting with two substantial female attendants dressed in gray uniforms who had boarded behind them. Their bawdy laughter over what was ahead of Edyth at the asylum flowed into the room. If these two women were a sample of the island’s staff—
The boat swayed as it moved out from the dock, the churning waters turning her stomach. She buried her face in her hands and wept over the loss of her uncle’s love that she had never possessed and the loss of Bane and the love they could have had. “Lord, if You are listening, save me. Save me.” But with every rock of the waves against the ferry, her heart fell further. “Why aren’t You saving me?” she whispered. I don’t understand.
“Ain’t no one going to save you now.” The thick-boned woman that she had heard the others call Nurse Sweeney came in the room and crouched beside her. She spat a wad of tobacco onto the wall, which explained the dark stains dripping down to the floorboards. “Poor dear.” She murmured the words sarcastically and lifted a finger to trace a tear down Edyth’s cheek before drawing back her hand and slapping her.
Edyth pressed her hands against her stinging cheek and rose to her feet, finding her voice at last. “How dare you. You try that again and you will—”
The woman turned on her heel and left the cabin, laughing. “I told you I’d do it, gents. Pay up now before you go up top to smoke.”
Meyer and Holden grunted and handed over a few bills to the woman, who immediately counted them before stuffing them into her bodice.
She struck me for a bet? Edyth bristled and gave the ropes a final tug with her teeth, allowing them to fall away. She studied the room for anything that could be used as a weapon. She made her way to the cot and, holding her breath, drew up the grimy mattress and tugged on each of the slats, hoping for a loose one. At the low creak of a nail, she glanced back over her shoulder, but the couples were still flirting, the other, shorter nurse running her hand up and down Holden’s sleeve. With a jerk, Edyth freed one of the slats and waited for the men to take their smoke on deck, leaving the women alone to guard her. She flipped the board so the nails would not seriously injure them, and lifting the wood above her head, she charged out the cabin door, slamming the board down on the head of the woman who had struck her. Before the other could cry out, Edyth swung the board around and hit the second square in the jaw. Dropping the board to grab up her skirts, she bolted for the stairs, the glimmer of dawn’s light greeting her along with a burst of glorious fresh air and freedom. She threw herself at the rails, intending to plunge into the East River and swim for shore when she felt sturdy hands enclose her waist, yanking her away.
She shrieked through her teeth and clawed, desperate for a chance to escape. “No! Release me. You cannot take me!”
“You really are mad. In that heavy dress, you’d sink like a stone,” Meyer mumbled around the stem of his pipe.
She jerked her arm back, but he held firm as the ferry docked. He and Holden led her up the plank to shore where a dilapidated ambulance wagon stood waiting. She dug her heels into the muddy earth and cried out, “Someone help me! I’m being taken against my will.”
Her companions seemed to take pleasure in her pleas, and the people about the makeshift town turned wide eyes to her and viewed her with interest, but not a soul possessed sympathy enough to come to her aid. “If anyone has a heart, find Raoul Banebridge of New York City’s Banebridge Fencing Club and tell him what has happened. I beg of you—”
Meyer clamped a hand over her mouth and nose, gripping her so tightly her head began to swim for lack of air.
“Shut up, or I’ll be forced to sh
ut you up, miss.” The man released his hold on her, and Holden tossed her into the back of the closed wagon, locked the door, and climbed into the seat beside the driver. Their laughter sounded demonic as Edyth gasped for air, the spots in her vision slowly abating.
The two nurses stepped up beside the wagon, scowling at her through the small open windows. Nurse Sweeney held a rag to her head, blood seeping from the gash left from Edyth’s board. “You are going to pay for hitting Nurse Madison and me,” the woman said through her teeth. “You will find that we only ferry mad girls two days a week, and the rest of our working time is spent in the asylum. You can bet we are going to have some diversion with you come our shift in your hall.”
Edyth met their glares. “I should have wielded the side with the rusted nails.”
“Yes, you should have when you had the chance.” Nurse Madison cracked her overlarge knuckles as they moved on to a second, smaller wagon.
The ambulance wagon bumped down the dirt road, flying past picturesque lawns as Edyth dug her nails into the rough wood of the window frame, her eyes fastened on the trees painted with the fiery brush of fall passing by. She was truly afraid that this was the last time she would ever see such vibrant colors again. She did not imagine that the doctors allowed the inmates of the asylum to wander freely about the island. The wagon turned with the road alongside several long stone structures, and the stench nearly overwhelmed her.
The wagon rolled to a stop in front of a massive gray stone rotunda connecting the asylum’s two wings that stood three stories high. Looking up, she spied a ghostly face pressed against the bars of the third floor.
With a cry, Edyth attempted to plead her case once again. But her pleas fell on unaffected ears, and she was thrown over Meyer’s shoulder and carried up a flight of narrow stone steps that led into the great rotunda. She managed to twist her neck enough to see a plaque mounted beside the door that read BLACKWELL’S ISLAND WOMEN’S LUNATIC ASYLUM. “Please, God, no,” she whispered. “No.”
“Look. You seem like a nice girl, but the more fuss you make, the harder they’ll be on you now that you’re here,” Meyer whispered in a tone that almost sounded like pity.
She stopped kicking since it wasn’t doing her any good, deciding on a different tactic. She would be docile until they grew lax, and then she could bolt.
“I’m going to set you down now, but don’t you go and fight us, or I’ll have to knock you out. Holden is looking for an excuse to hit you. So you better keep still or he might try more than knocking you out.” Meyer set her firmly on her two feet, keeping a guiding hand on her elbow as they entered the massive rotunda.
The large spiraling staircase with a chandelier at the center and stunning arched ceilings held the promise that perhaps the nurses and her uncle had exaggerated the condition of the asylum. If it was so elegant and well kept, surely its doctors couldn’t be quite so horrible and she would find a sympathetic ear somewhere and a means of escape.
“Would you like to bring her to the vestibule to wait for the doctors for her final admittance examination?” asked a woman standing behind a tall reception desk, her spectacles perched on the edge of her nose while she took in Edyth’s torn ball gown that bespoke of her wealth.
Holden shook his head. “This one’s a special case. Her uncle had doctors evaluate her in the city before bringing her to the island. He wanted her put away without the news being alerted. Guess their family is high society.”
“My uncle only wishes for discretion because he is trying to seize my fortune,” Edyth protested. The guard squeezed her arm, but she jerked away from his grasp and gripped the counter in one last desperate attempt. “Send for different doctors. Let them evaluate me, and I can prove that I am as sane as you are.”
“I doubt that,” the woman murmured, her lips pinching as she waved at Meyer to restrain Edyth again before she continued. “Do you have the papers, Mister—?”
“Holden, and yes, miss, I do.” He slid the folded documents across the desk. “Mr. Foster promised a hefty bonus if there’s no trouble.” He withdrew a roll of bills from his pocket, which the woman’s hungry gaze roved over. She snatched the roll, counting the bills before unfastening the top three buttons of her bodice, drawing Holden’s disgusting leer. She slipped the bills inside and secured the buttons once more. She rang a bell and motioned the responding female attendant over, causing Edyth to cringe at the sight of the nurse from the ferry. “Nurse Madison, take this patient to an isolation room and let her work out her passion. She will be more docile tomorrow morning when she is hungry and tired enough to meet the matron and allow the staff to bathe her and get her into her uniform.”
“Gladly.” The nurse gripped Edyth by the hair at the back of her neck, wrenching her away from the desk.
Edyth held back a cry of pain. “Please, someone send for Doctor Hawkins. He will vouch for my sanity.”
The nurse’s grip faltered, but only for a moment. “Only a madwoman would attack us with a board.” She jerked her down the hall. “Doctor Hawkins will see you when he is good and ready and not a moment before. You best get used to your new life, duchess.”
“Doctor Hawkins!” Edyth screeched. “Roger Hawkins. Help! It’s Edyth Fos—”
The woman’s wide hand pinched Edyth’s nose and jaw closed, drawing the fight from her veins as her lungs screamed for air. “Shut your trap.”
Edyth clawed at the woman’s hand until her arms grew weak. Just when she felt herself slipping away, the nurse released her hold and nodded to a male attendant standing beside a door. The man unlocked it, and Edyth felt herself being dragged into the hall, the moaning of patients at their cell doors striking fear into her core. The dark, arched doorways of cells pressed in on her from every side, and at the end of the hall, the nurse flung open the door to a vacant room with two disgusting cots, but only one with bedclothes.
“Maybe a day without food and a night in the dark will help you calm down and remind you that you are no longer an heiress. As far as the world is concerned, Edyth Foster is dead.”
Chapter Eight
Paintings have a life of their own that derives from the painter’s soul.
~ Vincent van Gogh
Edyth did not show up for their early morning ride, and Bane began to grow apprehensive that he must have said something the night before to frighten her. The thought plagued him all through his morning ride. Knowing he wouldn’t be able to concentrate on his fencing class if he did not first stop by her house to inquire after her, Bane directed his charge toward her gray stone mansion on Fifth Avenue.
Handing the reins to the groomsman who trotted up to greet him, Bane swiped off his hat and lifted and dropped the bronze knocker against the door. When no one answered his knock, he peered through the transoms on either side of the mahogany door, attempting to spot anyone or a light inside when the flash of an emerald skirt caught his attention. He knocked on the door again, the impression that he was being avoided growing. Bane gnawed on the inside of his cheek, concerned that perhaps his momentary foolishness with Lavinia had come back to haunt him. Maybe Edyth has decided that she doesn’t wish for Lavinia’s sloppy seconds or that I should have known that I was meant for Edyth all along, but how could I when the thought never crossed my mind?
The door jerked open three inches. “Mr. Banebridge, my apologies, but it seems Edyth has contracted an illness and won’t be joining you this morning for lessons.”
Bane’s brows rose at the sight of her uncle behind the door. “An illness? Is it contagious? Is that why the servants aren’t answering the door?”
Mr. Foster shook his head. “No. I was simply near the door because I am expecting Doctor Wentworth. He should be arriving soon, so if you’ll excuse me, I need to return to my breakfast or I’ll be too hungry to focus on the doctor’s diagnosis.”
“Doctor Wentworth? Jasper’s father?”
“He’s newly appointed as our family doctor. Something about wishing to quit his current plac
e of employment.”
Mr. Foster moved to close the door, but Bane shoved the toe of his riding boot over the threshold at the last moment, wincing at the weight of the door against his foot. “Is that why she didn’t join me today or send word of a cancellation?”
“Of course. As I just explained, Edyth is ill. I doubt she will be riding or fencing anytime soon.”
At this, Bane’s heart seized. “Do you know what she has? Surely she is not in danger?”
Mr. Foster shrugged rather callously. “The doctor mentioned something about a fever, but I was more concerned about my wife contracting the illness from Edyth than attending to my niece’s absurd requests.” He shook his head, annoyance clouding his tone. “Really, the girl is ill, not dying. Good day, Mr. Banebridge.”
“I need to see her, sir, if only for a moment.” Bane cleared his throat from the awkwardness of his insistence, but better to bear embarrassment than burn with this unknowing for one moment more.
“That is not possible. You would be risking yourself, not to mention the possibility of becoming the harbinger of illness to your club, and we both know that you and my niece would not wish to have that on your conscience.” Mr. Foster wouldn’t meet his gaze and moved to close the door again. He motioned for Bane to remove his boot from the threshold.
Bane frowned. Edyth had been perfectly well last night and had exhibited no signs of illness. He knew for a fact that she had not been around anyone ill, since she had spent most of the past three days either inside painting or out with him. And as he was not feeling ill after sharing a kiss with her, he was certain something was not right. “My adamancy is inexcusable, but I’ll only be a minute. It is of the utmost importance. I promise to speak my piece and take my leave at once.”
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