The Madness of Miss Grey

by Julia Bennet

  “Helen…”

  “Hmm,” she said, pressing herself against his erection.

  The shock of it, the gentle pressure as she rubbed herself against his cock, the realization that he was moments from throwing her across his bed, doused him like cold water.

  Too late, far too late for his peace of mind, he stepped away. “Helen, no. I’m not…You don’t have to—”

  “I want to.”

  God, he longed to believe her. The blanket lay in a crumpled heap at her feet. The white gown hung down, exposing the round slope of one shoulder. His gaze dipped seemingly of its own volition to her breasts, hidden by thick ruffles. He’d seen so much more of her than this, yet his body didn’t care. All he had to do was give in, and she was his for the taking.

  He swallowed. “Women don’t…women don’t behave that way with me.”

  She frowned, but her shallow, panting breaths ruined the effect; she still looked so damned soft and kissable. “Why not?”

  “Because I’m not the sort of man women fancy.” That last word slipped in, a remnant of the village lad’s vocabulary; he half expected her to laugh.

  “Nonsense,” she said instead.

  “I’m not handsome—”

  “No, you’re not.”

  Her words caused a pang of disappointment, which was absurd. He knew what he looked like.

  Circling him, she studied every part of him, her eyes lingering in places they had no business. “But handsome isn’t everything. Do you want to know what I thought when I first saw you?”

  Did he? “I don’t think—”

  “I thought your name suited you. William Carter. I thought, ‘He looks like he’d be at home loading things on and off a cart.’”

  He looked away. His whole adult life, and before that—really from the day old Sir Clifford had sent him away to school—people had judged him and decided, quite rightly, that he was no true gentleman.

  But she had more to say. “And then I thought, ‘What would it be like if he pinned me up against the wall? What would those rough hands feel like stroking me to paroxysm? What if he spread me across his desk and f—’”

  A look of triumph flitted across her face as he seized her by the upper arms. Lord knew he wanted to do every earthy thing she’d described, but somehow he found the inner strength to haul her toward the door instead of into bed.

  “Will, what—”

  He couldn’t listen to any more. Roughly, he shoved her over the threshold and slammed the door. Then he sank to the floor and leaned his head back against the panels.

  You complete and utter fool, Carter.

  His cock, obviously agreeing with his assessment, jutted aggressively from the parting of his robe. He groped for the blanket Helen had dropped and draped the fabric across his lap.

  Bugger, bugger, bugger, bugger.

  “Will?” Her voice issued from the portion of door by his right ear. That meant she must be sitting on the floor, too. “Will?”

  “I’m sorry.” But he’d spoken so quietly she wouldn’t have heard. “Please don’t tempt me, Helen,” he said more loudly.

  A long silence, then: “It’s hard enough for us women to guard our own virtue. Why must you men insist on making us the guardians of yours as well?”

  Ah, but he hadn’t meant it that way. Not precisely. “It isn’t a question of virtue or at least not the way you mean. I’m your doctor, and I swore an oath.”

  “I see.”

  “I don’t think you do. I’m in a position of authority over you. It wouldn’t be right.”

  “Because I’m a poor, helpless madwoman, you mean?”

  “Honestly?” No, not a madwoman. He’d never believed that of her, but was she entirely well? Who could stay healthy trapped in this bleak, dark prison? “I don’t know what you are.”

  She wasn’t for him, of that he was certain. Maybe once she left Blackwell, after enough time had passed, he could find her again, court her properly as her equal.

  “What if I begged you to take me?”

  The images those words conjured… Taking her was all he could think about.

  “Even if I did…” He hesitated, ashamed of what he must say. “Even if I did, I wouldn’t know if you really wanted me or if you felt you had to take me to bed so I’d help you.”

  The next silence went on for so long, he thought she’d gone. He leaned his cheek against the scuffed mahogany, listening for her breaths.

  “You have helped me,” she said at last. “You do.”

  “Well, that’s all the more reason then. You’re an excellent actress—”

  “Clearly, I’m nothing of the kind.”

  Her pert tone made him smile.

  “I really did want to go to bed with you,” she added.

  “But you don’t feel any fondness for me.”

  “Oh, now that I won’t allow. I wish I wasn’t fond of you. Life was much easier when I only thought about myself and my own troubles.”

  Dared he believe her? “But you aren’t in any danger of falling in love with me.”

  “I…” But nothing followed the lone syllable.

  Good. Now they were getting to the truth. On the face of it, I don’t love you seemed like a terrible foundation for a friendship, but perhaps it heralded the beginning of trust between them. A glimmer, anyway. They needed to trust each other if he was going to give her the help she wanted. They couldn’t be lovers, but they weren’t simply doctor and patient anymore, either.

  By now, he’d had ample time to reach a diagnosis. Helen Grey was not mad. Hers was a sound mind under tremendous strain. Her erratic behavior made perfect sense in the circumstances, ergo she would never improve until she left those circumstances behind. Conclusion: she needed to leave Blackwell.

  He could tell this to Sterling, but he knew how he’d respond. Will deplored both the man and his methods, and Sterling clearly distrusted him in return. Will couldn’t remain here feeling as he did, and even if that hadn’t been true, the day was coming when Sterling would find an excuse to dismiss the unsatisfactory colleague who was always criticizing his mode of practice. Perhaps he wouldn’t wait until a new doctor was appointed. Who would help Helen then? She’d already endured ten years here. How much longer could she stay sane imprisoned in this tomb?

  He took a deep breath. “Helen,” he began, “I think we need to get you out of here. I don’t know how much longer I can stay here with Sterling running things. I wish I could take everyone with me when I go, but I can get you out. I’ll find a way.”

  “You can’t.”

  For the first time since they’d met, he felt his temper slipping. “Isn’t that what this has all been about? You’ve been trying to convince me for weeks that this is a bad place for you. I agree. You don’t belong here. I’ll get you out even if I have to smuggle you in a packing case.”

  “No.”

  No? He half rose, about to open the door, before he thought better of it. Lust and anger made poor bedfellows.

  “I don’t want you to do that,” she said. “I don’t want you to throw your career away.”

  “It may be the only way.”

  “I don’t care.” A thud on the wood next to his ear told him she’d slammed a hand against the door. “I think I’m finally losing my mind. Dr. Sterling will be ecstatic.”

  “Helen—”

  “You see straight through me, don’t you? Has there ever been a day, even one, when you didn’t know exactly what I was trying to do?”

  “I hope not. Seeing past subterfuge is an important part of my job. You see? It’s not that you’re a poor actress—it’s that I’m a brilliant doctor.”

  Her soft laugh soothed him. They could get past this. His unwise attraction and her folly belonged in the past. They could work together now as friends.

  A vague rustling sound informed him that she really was getting up this time. Slowly, he did the same.

  “Will?”

  “Yes?”

  “I wis
h I did love you.”

  He placed his palm flat on the door panel, a silly, sentimental gesture and one he was glad she couldn’t see. Over the weeks, his feelings had grown, but he’d been too busy suppressing them to notice they’d deepened into something more than desire. “I wish you loved me, too,” he whispered.

  Chapter Ten

  Will slept in fits and starts.

  Of course, his thoughts were all of Helen, how her body felt through the long white gown, her warmth and softness, and the illicit kiss he’d tried to resist while all the time he’d ached to taste her in return. Several times throughout the long night, he tried to master his unruly imagination. He’d turn over, telling himself that this time he meant it; he really would stop thinking about her.

  At last his twisting and turning became so violent that he dislodged the covers. As he rescued the top blanket from the floor, he forced the near-pornographic images from his mind. He refused to touch himself. The painful ache of an unsatisfied erection must be his punishment for the little he’d allowed to happen last night.

  Work thoughts. Work thoughts will save you. They might not help him sleep, but perhaps they’d stop the desperate yearning in his heart.

  As he considered the events of the last few days, Mrs. Fairly and her shower of stars kept popping into his head. Sterling had said the stars appeared as a result of her rubbing her eyes too hard, and in the notes, he’d written “delusions indicative of religious monomania.” Something about that bothered Will.

  Religious folk held to all sorts of strange beliefs, and for the most part, no one called them mad or tried to lock them up. Mrs. Fairly thought the stars came from God, and she took comfort in them. Where was the harm?

  How much did her son pay per month for her keep?

  Only Sterling had access to the accounts, so Will didn’t know what amount Blackwell stood to lose if Mrs. Fairly left. Was it enough to sway Sterling’s diagnosis?

  Will lit a candle and reached for his pocket watch on the nightstand. Four in the morning. Sleep seemed unlikely now, so he might as well get up and do some work. Ignoring the chill, he slid from under the covers, taking a grim satisfaction in the way the air stung his skin. This was good. This was real life. Cold rooms, lonely bed, and work.

  As he stooped to wash his face in the icy water waiting on the washstand, he caught sight of his reflection in the black-spotted looking glass. A face like thunder, his mother would have said—brow heavy, lips turned down in a frown as he puzzled over his patients’ difficulties.

  It was all too easy to fall into the habit of seeing a patient not as a person, but as a bundle of problems in need of solving. Perhaps certain eccentricities didn’t need curing. Perhaps their peculiarities could even be beautiful.

  And Helen… Helen didn’t belong at Blackwell, and neither did Will. He needed to leave or he’d go mad himself, but he couldn’t go and knowingly abandon a perfectly sane woman. Somehow, he would get Helen out, but he wished he had more time.

  His reflection stared back at him. Plain, sensible Will Carter, the same as always. Outwardly, nothing had changed, yet what he contemplated… It was reckless. If he didn’t want to lose everything, he needed a plan. A logical map with all the hazards clearly marked.

  The first thing to discover was who had sent Helen to Blackwell in the first place. Sterling said the information needed to remain confidential, but surely Helen herself must know.

  After breakfast, he went to find her.

  As he neared the top of the attic stairs, he heard her voice, loud and imperious: “Absolutely not!”

  He stopped in the narrow corridor just out of view. From where he stood, he could see her bed and Hector sprawled across the coverlet.

  “You wretched beast,” Helen said, clambering over him. She managed to squeeze into the narrow space between the dog and the wall and slide down into a crouch. With the flats of both her palms, she shoved at his broad flank. “Off. Off with you. Ugh! You’ll make my sheets stink.”

  Hector must have given one of his soulful gazes because her tone gentled. “Oh, don’t look like that. Do play fair.”

  Helen had a soft side. Will had known it for a while, but his heart turned over anyway. A complete somersault, in fact. And of course that was when she happened to glance up and catch him staring.

  Whatever she saw in his expression caused her eyes to spark with speculation.

  Will had learnt to disguise his emotions when working with patients. A doctor’s face should always remain a polite mask. No matter what sins or sick fancies a patient revealed in the course of treatment, a good psychiater exuded professional interest only. He should use the same technique in this situation.

  “I don’t suppose you know a way to get him off the bed?” she asked, gesturing helplessly at the dog.

  “You need to make your voice more authoritative and less exasperated.”

  “Like a doctor with a difficult patient?” she asked, dusky pink lips curved in a smile.

  “Exactly.”

  Helen glanced down at Hector, who now lazed on his back, legs splayed.

  “What a disgraceful exhibition,” she said. “Why are all you men so proud of that thing between your legs?”

  Will choked back a laugh.

  “I suppose I shouldn’t speak obscenities in a mad doctor’s hearing.” Her eyes sparkled with wickedness. “Please, Dr. Carter, would you be so kind as to persuade this awful canine off my bed?”

  “I’d be pleased to,” he said, equally polite. Without raising his voice, he snapped, “Here, Hector!”

  The dog rolled to the left, dropped off the bed, and landed on the bare boards with surprising grace. Without pause, he collapsed onto his belly and closed his eyes, apparently determined to sleep even in the face of such rude conduct from his humans.

  “Will that do?” Will asked.

  Helen hopped down onto what little of the floor wasn’t occupied by the Great Dane. “I suppose it will have to.”

  …

  Unlike the despicable Dr. Sterling, Dr. Carter behaved like a gentleman and left the rocking chair vacant. He stood with his hands rigid at his sides as if he didn’t know what to do with them.

  When Helen had first noticed him standing by her door, he’d been smiling, his eyes filled with a strange, soft glow. No one had ever looked at her that way before. She’d wanted to bask in the warmth of it forever.

  Perhaps that was why she found his stiff posture so provocative. When he froze up like that, she wanted to kiss him until he gasped for breath. Or until his eyes took on that glazed, heavy-lidded look. She wanted him the way he’d been last night in those few precious moments before he’d slammed the door.

  “Dr. Carter, about yesterday—”

  “That’s what I came here to discuss,” he said quickly. “I think we both agree that smuggling you out in my luggage should be a last resort. In the normal course of things, I’d involve the Masters in Lunacy and apply for a lunacy inquisition.”

  She shook her head. “Dr. Sterling won’t allow it. How long do you suppose you’d keep your post if you force one?” No, there would be no inquisition.

  “As to that, Sterling isn’t the real obstacle, is he?”

  “Then who—?”

  “Anyway, I’m not thinking of an inquisition,” he said, before she could inquire further. “I’ve testified at those before. Sterling would find someone to dispute my findings, and who knows whom chancery would believe? No, the outcome would be too uncertain. I—”

  He stopped at the sound of a creak on the stairs.

  Helen’s eyes met his. “Is that you, Elsie?”

  No one answered.

  Without a word, Dr. Carter went to the door and peered out. “No one there.” He turned and smiled. “Miss Grey, would you like to take our walk early today?”

  Helen nodded. “Shall I meet you in the main entrance hall?”

  “I’ll send Elsie to get your outdoor things. Here, Hector.” He left with the dog at his he
els.

  Not more than ten minutes passed before Elsie bustled in with Helen’s coat over one arm. If she was the eavesdropper, she hid it well. No telltale pinkness in her cheeks or furtive looks. As she helped Helen into the forest green coat, the property of a shorter and thinner former patient, Elsie tutted and muttered under her breath. Helen made out several key words, “Sterling,” “skinflint,” and “indecent” among them.

  Her breasts did strain the buttons, but she didn’t care. Dr. Carter didn’t even notice. As she walked downstairs toward him, he barely spared her a glance. Had she done something to offend him, or was he embarrassed about last night? At least Hector seemed pleased to see her, wagging his tail and whimpering with excitement. Then again, perhaps he was merely eager to get outside.

  A tiny increase in temperature over the last day or so had melted much of the snow, but the ground remained treacherous, covered in ice and slush. As they made their way around the side of the house, a fine mist clung to her.

  “My hair’s going to be extremely frizzy by the time we return,” she said. “I hope whoever’s been listening at keyholes is proud of themselves.”

  “Do you suspect Elsie?”

  “I can’t be certain, but I don’t think so. Fletch is far more likely. It wouldn’t be the first time I’ve caught her sticking her nose in where it’s not wanted.”

  He glanced sideways at her, then frowned. Whatever his thoughts were, they couldn’t be pleasant. She almost asked him about them, but she hesitated. What if he was angry with her? What if her conduct last night disgusted him? He was so stiff and proper; his body’s undeniable response didn’t guarantee liking for her as a person.

  Two weeks ago, she wouldn’t have cared if Will liked her, but now… He was the first truly good man she’d ever known. She didn’t want to lose whatever portion of his regard she held.

  “What about whoever helped Fletch almost drown you?” he asked.

  “You mean Jim? It’s possible, I suppose, but—” She squeaked as her foot slipped in the sludge.

  Dr. Carter caught her before she fell, his hands firm on her elbows. “Steady,” he said.