Secrets of the Heart (31 page)

Simon crossed his arms over his chest. “I knew you were too stubborn to die.”

“Thank God, you’re awake,” Madeline exclaimed. “Did you see who did this?”

“Don’t know. Be… be careful, Lady Madeline.”

She sucked in her breath when Ravensmoore struggled to his side and Mrs. Sharpe removed the coat, exposing the wound.

Ravensmoore forced a weak grin. “That bad, is it?”

Her eyes examined a deep slash across the upper back. “I suppose it could be worse.” She tried to keep her voice calm and steady. “It is impossible to tell how deep the injury is with all this blood. Simon, can you get us some water to clean the wound?”

Simon scampered away to follow her orders.

Amanda came into the room and stopped, her eyes wide with shock. “Blood everywhere,” she exclaimed. “Just like Papa beating Mama. Blood everywhere.”

“Amanda! Thank God, you are all right.” She hugged the girl close. Ravensmoore turned to look at Amanda and winced. “That’s what happened, isn’t it, Amanda? You were trying to protect your mother.”

Tears streamed down Amanda’s pale face, and this time Madeline wiped away the girl’s tears. “We won’t let anything bad happen to you, Amanda.”

Simon returned with a basin of water and set it near Ravensmoore.

“Thank you, Simon,” Madeline said. “Keep Amanda with you while Mrs. Sharpe and I help the doctor.”

Simon reached for Amanda’s hand. He didn’t speak a word. He just held her hand.

Ravensmoore struggled to rise. “I think I’m strong enough to sit up.”

Madeline laid a hand on his chest. “You must be still, Doctor Grayson. Why is it so hard for a man to take a woman’s advice?” Madeline tore her petticoat and used the strip of cloth to wipe away the worst of the blood. Then she tore a larger piece, wadded it into a bandage, and held it against the gash.

Ravensmoore gave her a lopsided grin that turned quickly into a grimace. “You make a fine nurse, Lady Madeline.”

“And you, sir, make a difficult patient. Kindly tell me how to stop this bleeding.”

“He’ll need to be sewn up,” Mrs. Sharpe said, examining the wound. “I want everyone out of here, except Lady Madeline.”

Simon nodded and led Amanda from the room.

Madeline discarded the blood-soaked cloth, tore another, and held it against the wound for what seemed like forever. “I think it’s beginning to slow.” Madeline lifted the cloth and looked at the gash. “The bleeding is lessening.”

“I will get the necessary instruments from the apothecary. ’Tis just around the corner,” Mrs. Sharpe said. “Remove his shirt so I can access the wound.”

Madeline stood next to Ravensmoore, alone. Self-consciousness gripped her as she fumbled with his bloodstained cravat. “You are so pale.” She gently touched his cheek with the back of her hand.

He placed his hand over hers. “You have gentle fingers.”

“And my fingers need to untie your neck cloth. I am not very experienced with such things.”

“Would you like me to give you directions?” he teased.

Her cheeks warmed. Steadfastly avoiding his gaze, she bent over him and worked at the intricate configuration. Finally she loosened his cravat, and the knots fell away. She removed the strip of cloth, then unbuttoned his shirt and gently eased it from his shoulders and down his arms. Her breath caught. Never had she been so close to a man. Averting her gaze, she gathered up the torn shirt and pressed it to the wound, holding it in place. Keeping her voice neutral, she asked, “Are you doing all right?”

“Never better.” His tone was light, but Madeline could feel the shudders of pain rippling through his back.

Mrs. Sharpe returned with a basket of supplies. First she packed the wound with herbs to prevent infection and then she picked up a needle. “It is time.”

A groan escaped Ravensmoore’s lips. Madeline bent over him. “Dr. Grayson, how awful is the pain?”

“Don’t give me anything,” he whispered to her. “I must stay awake in case I’m needed.”

“Yes.” She rubbed her hands, damp with anxiety, against her skirt and prayed she wouldn’t have to guide the needle through his skin. She looked to Mrs. Sharpe for direction.

Mrs. Sharpe touched Madeline’s shoulder. “I have done this many times. It’s much like the art of needlepoint. Would you like to help?”

“Yes, I would. Dr. Grayson, let me help you sit up.”

“A kind offer, but I think I can manage on my own.” He swayed to one side and nearly fell over.

“Stubborn man.” Madeline prevented his fall. “You have lost too much blood.”

“Stubborn? Who tried to walk into her home after falling from her horse?”

Madeline ignored the remark and picked up the black bag that held the medical instruments. “Just tell me what to do.”

Mrs. Sharpe explained the procedure while she threaded a needle. “All I need you to do is to hold Dr. Grayson’s hands and keep him still so I can stitch properly,” Mrs. Sharpe said.

Madeline felt sick as she watched Mrs. Sharpe push the needle into the red swollen skin.

Ravensmoore gasped as the needle completed its first stitch. “I cannot believe I said not to give me anything,” he groaned. “It burns like hell’s fire.”

“Do quit trying to be so brave,” Madeline said. “Take the laudanum.” She held the bottle to Ravensmoore’s lips. “Sip slowly. I imagine you know how much to swallow.”

Ravensmoore took a mouthful and swallowed. In a moment Mrs. Sharpe resumed sewing. Madeline watched in amazement as the woman skillfully sewed the wound together. The gash soon turned into a neat, well-stitched line.

“I am almost finished,” Mrs. Sharpe said, “but you must rest. The wound, although not terribly deep, will be uncomfortable. You need time to heal.”

Madeline held the bottle of laudanum to his lips again. “It may be best to take one more sip.”

He smiled, followed her instructions, then caught and held her gaze. “Thank you.” His eyes spoke more than the simple words conveyed.

Tying off the last stitch, Mrs. Sharpe let out a long sigh of satisfaction. “It is done.” She bandaged the wound. “Try not to sleep on your back. Now, if you will excuse me, I have other patients that need attention. There is so much yet to do.” She left the room.

“Lady Madeline,” Devlin said, catching her hand, “you must send for Dr. Langford and Melton.”

“Of course,” Madeline reassured him. She watched Ravensmoore drift off to exhausted sleep. He looked so vulnerable, not nearly so strong and determined as when he was awake. She must be strong. Very strong, because their lives—and the life of her mother— depended on it.

Madeline left the room and found one of the male keepers. “Have you had the vaccine?” He nodded.

“I want you to go the Guardian Gate Hospital. Ask for Dr. Langford. Tell him of the smallpox epidemic here and of the attack on Dr. Grayson. Tell him to come quickly. And whatever you do, do not be seen, or Dr. Grayson and I may be in danger. If you do this, you will be richly rewarded. Do you understand?”

The keeper nodded again and went his way.

Madeline made her way through the maze of patients. Finally she reached the main door. No guard. She tried the latch. It lifted silently, allowing her access to the corridor. Sullivan’s office door was open.

Madeline’s heart raced. Perhaps she could find concrete proof of Sullivan’s evil doings—proof that would stand up in court. She went to the door and hesitated for just a moment to gather her courage. She stepped into the office. Seeing no one about, she quietly pushed the door closed.

The room was a mess. Dirty dishes covered the desk, and papers were scattered about like straw in a stable. The sun gleamed on a shiny object lying on the floor partially concealed by a piece of paper. She tiptoed to the spot and knelt down.

“Lord help us.” She stared at a letter opener covered with dried blood—Ravensmoore’s blood! A wave of fear washed over her. She struggled to stand up, her knees wobbly.

Suddenly the door crashed open. Amos Sullivan stood staring at her.

“Ah, here you are!” Sullivan asked. “You appear to be lost, my dear. This is not where you belong.”

“It was you. You stabbed Ravensmoore. But why?”

“Because he knows too much. He will ruin everything if he leaves here alive, and I am going to make sure he doesn’t.” Sullivan’s features twisted into a mask of hatred. “And now you also know too much. I’m afraid I cannot ignore that fact.”

“What evil do you plot now?”

“I believe you have met my two trusted employees.” Two men stepped into the room—the men who had held her under in the cold bath. Her blood chilled.

Sullivan pointed first to the big man. “Hugh, subdue her.” To the smaller man he said, “Thomas, take her to the pit. And make sure she stays there a good long time.”

“No! Leave me alone!” She picked up an inkwell and threw it at Hugh. It hit him in the chest, and the black liquid soaked the front of his dirty brown shirt, spreading like the evil that lived in him.

Movement at the window caught her attention. Simon! He ducked beneath the windowsill, but her glance did not go unnoticed by Sullivan.

“Thomas, get the dwarf,” Sullivan instructed. “Bring him to me.”

Madeline picked up a book and hurled it at Hugh. “Get away from me!” The book bounced off him. She threw another and then another as he stalked her.

He lunged at her. Madeline screamed. She dodged his advance and ran to the door, only to watch it shut, inches in front of her, with a shove from Sullivan. She bit his hand and grabbed the doorknob. Hugh was upon her in a flash.

“Let me go!” Madeline kicked and scratched him, but Hugh was too big and far too strong.

Sullivan laughed. “I will get word to Vale of your disobedience.”

Madeline immediately went still. “No! He’ll hurt my mother.”

“You should have considered that prior to entering my office uninvited.”

“Wait! You can’t do this.” She bit Hugh’s hand hard, drawing blood. He swore and twisted her arm behind her back. In desperation, Madeline screamed, a high-pitched shriek, hoping Mrs. Sharpe would hear her. Hugh grabbed her other arm and tied them together at the wrists.

“Get her out of here.” Sullivan stuck a gag in her mouth.

Hugh hoisted her over his beefy shoulder as if she were a sack of grain. She stiffened with fear and tried to scream again, but only a muffled sound came from her throat. Blood rushed to her head. Not being able to breathe through her mouth forced her to inhale his loathsome scent. He smelled as though he’d rolled in pig manure.

Hugh strode through a dark, musty passageway.

“You’re in no position to argue now, are ye?” Hugh laughed. Madeline thought she would vomit but for the gag in her mouth. She pushed against his shoulder and kicked her legs, hoping to throw him off balance, but he held her tight, his laugh echoing through the narrow passage.

As they descended the stairs, he slowed to maintain his balance in the narrow passage, then stopped. Squeaking hinges and a smell worse than Hugh assaulted her senses. Madeline saw a single torch burning in the room and hastily studied her surroundings.

He dumped her on the ground. She hit against something hard and smooth behind her. Madeline turned to see a bamboo cage, its door hanging open like the mouth of a hungry animal.

“Get up,” Hugh commanded, grabbing a handful of her hair and yanking her to her feet.

Tears stung Madeline’s eyes. What would happen to Ravensmoore if she couldn’t get away? What would happen to all of them if the message didn’t reach Dr. Langford?

Hugh untied her hands, and she quickly rubbed them together to lessen the pain of blood filling her numb fingers. She removed the gag from her mouth and thought she would do almost anything for a few drops of water. “Water.” The word sounded barely audible to her own ears.

“Get in the cage,” Hugh ordered, ignoring her request.

Madeline kicked him hard in the knee. “Never!” She scrambled to her feet and ran toward the passage.

Hugh tackled her to the ground. “You witch!”

Madeline rammed her elbow into his face. “Let me go, you monster!”

Suddenly her head jerked backward. Hugh roared, “I’ll let you rot!” He grabbed her arm and dragged her to the cage, throwing her inside.

Madeline fell against the bamboo as though she were a rag doll. The door slammed shut. She winced at the pain in her arm. “Don’t do this!”

“I got me orders. I get paid right well to follow them. Hold on tight,
me lady
,” he said, sneering at her. “You’ll be going for a brief ride.” Hugh began turning a hidden lever. The cage jolted into the air, smashing her against the other side of the cage.

“Let me out!” Madeline yelled, hoping he would stop but knowing he would not. She hung suspended in the cage in the middle of the dimly lit, desolate room. Madeline watched as Hugh secured the lever and moved underneath her. “What are you doing? Let me out of here!”

“I will return later. You will beg me to get you out of the pit by then. You will do anything I ask. Anything at all.”

She watched in horror as Hugh removed a rusting metal grate beneath her. “You must not do this!” Madeline gripped the bars of the cage and shook the door. “You will not get away with this.”