The Dark Lady (4 page)

He’d been mistaken.

With every step he took, his understanding of horror altered. He had not even known what it was. He’d assumed it was dead men, their bodies ripped apart. This place changed all that.

He struggled for air. If the oppressive nature of the hellhole was any indication, the body was nothing compared to the soul. And the walls of this asylum seemed to shudder with the souls of destroyed innocents.

This was horror in all its destructive glory.

Worse than this realization was the growing knowledge that his guilt had not let him return sooner. Because of pride, he’d condemned Eva to damnation. Even one day sooner would have been better to take her from this place.

He swallowed, trying to rid himself of the acrid taste of misery that drifted in the very air about him.

Nothing was as it should be any longer.

Even doors were no longer doors. They were portals
to hell. As he neared this newest one, behind which Eva waited, he knew without a doubt that there were levels of perdition and he had surely descended into the most despicable.

The sodding keeper opened the splintered wood door for him. The heavy panel creaked as it swung. “She’s been medicated, my lord. Though she’s not a violent one.” He laughed. “Leastways, not anymore.”

“Thank you.” How he wanted to burn the damn place down to a cinder, or perhaps rip that thick throat out. It would be hard for the bag of filth to laugh without a windpipe, but such an action would not be conducive to his immediate plan to keep Eva safe.

Dim light filtered through the room from the lone lamp that hung from the ceiling. There were no windows. No chairs. Just a bed, wide enough for two.

Ian drew in a slow breath and stepped in. The door swung shut behind him and it locked with a solid thud. Once again, his eyes struggled against the weird light. Shadows tossed themselves over the floor. Strips of yellow-gold light bathed the bed.

He narrowed his eyes. Where was she?

A shuffle echoed in the silence and he whipped around. A slight movement caught his eye. There by the door, hiding by the hinges, stood a woman. She half faced the wall. A brown sack dress hung on her emaciated frame. Black hair caressed her cheeks, so short it could never be pulled back. And her eyes?

He could barely see them in the murky light. The pupils were so small all he could see was blue. The blue of piercing indigo and long-forgotten summer.

She swayed slightly and Ian darted forward, ready to catch her. But she floated away. Her body moved like the most delicate butterfly in the breeze. If he touched her, she would shatter, wings broken, earthbound.

She wasn’t here anymore. She wasn’t in the room, and it broke what remained of his heart. “Eva?” he whispered, tears stinging his eyes.

She tilted her head toward him, but she stared into the distance, her eyes wide.

He ached to take her in his arms. To fold her up in care as no one had done in a very long time. To catch that once perfect essence that had captured Hamilton’s heart, and his own, so long ago before everything had changed. “Eva, love, do you hear me?”

Her motions were slow, as if suspended in water. She blinked, then turned to him. She stared at his face.

Ian frowned. She stared, but was she even looking at him? She appeared not to see beyond her own nose. Perhaps not even that far. Perhaps she saw nothing but the nightmares of her own mind.

He didn’t know for certain. But he had to do something, anything, to make her remember.

Ian took a step forward, his hand outreached.

A whimper strangled her throat as she wrenched back from his touch so fast she nearly tripped. “N-no. N-no!” she shrieked, panic shooting her voice up an octave.

He pressed her to his chest, pain at her thinness coursing through him. Lord, he could feel every one of her ribs. “Eva, oh, love, don’t you recall? Remember Ian? Remember the sea and ices? And running through the grass?” He spoke quickly, firmly, determined to bring her back. And if he held her, if he kept talking, she would remember it all, remember who she was.

She tensed in his hold, angling her body away from his, but she stopped struggling. Her breath came in sharp, shallow gasps.

Ever so slowly, she lifted her gaze to his. Light sparked in them and her brows drew together. “I—I know you.”

He nodded. “Oh, yes, Eva. You do.” His heart burned
with the pain of it. Shadows smudged her eyes and he could smell the laudanum upon her breath. How bloody much had they given her?

Enough to leave her lost in the nightmares of the past. Enough to torture her for an eternity. Her fingertips dug into his biceps. Her lips pursed as if she was trying to say something. She swallowed. “Ian?”

He nodded quickly. Relief pummeled him so fiercely it was painful. “Yes, Eva, yes. It’s Ian.”

“Why are you here?” She pushed at him slightly, hands moving from his arms to press against his chest. “You have to go,” she whispered urgently. She pushed at him again, her touch more desperate, more forceful. “They might try to keep you here.”

Even now, she thought of others before herself. Even now, she placed his safety before her own. He clasped her to him, careful lest she break right before his gaze. “No, Eva. They could never. I’m taking you with me.”

Her eyes darted to the door, then back to him as if she didn’t understand. “Leave? Here?”

“Yes,” he said firmly. “Forever.”

Tears filled her eyes. “You’re lying again. Please don’t lie. They told me I’d never be well enough to go.”

His heart wrenched. He’d told her only one lie in all the years they’d known each other. To hear her mention it now in her state was nearly his undoing. He had told her and Hamilton’s father that he would protect his friend. It had not been true. Hamilton was never coming home.

That venture, meant to recapture friendship and honor, had ended in death and misery. But he wouldn’t allow his own shortcomings to dictate Eva’s fate any longer.

He commanded the pain away and smoothed her hair back, short though it was, and murmured against her
temple, “Sweetheart, you never should have been here at all.”

“Oh, yes.” She nodded jerkily against him. “Yes, I should.” Her voice shook and her slender fingers twisted into his linen shirt. “I did something terrible, Ian. Terrible.” Her lashes and tears brushed against his neck. “You must leave me here.” Her entire body tensed against his. “To pay for what I’ve done.”

“None of that. Come, now,” he soothed, not daring to think overlong on the accident that had broken her mind. He took one of her icy, soot-marked hands in his and enveloped it lightly. “I promise, I will help you.”

She nodded again, but strangely, at the same time, she said, “No one can, Ian. No one.”

He drew her carefully back against his chest. She was wrong, so very wrong. Never in his life had anything felt more right than his helping her. Even here, where so many women had been left to die, with her pressed against him, he knew that he would rescue her—no matter the cost.

England
Sixteen years earlier

I
an’s fingers curled, empty of his toy elephant. It had been a gift from his father after a long journey with the new governor general of India. His father had said that they’d hunted many tigers, but the elephants had been the most interesting. Big, funny-looking things with noses as long as flagpoles.

Ian missed the gift very much, but he’d given it away to someone who needed it more. He stared up at the wide stairs, half hearing the whispered voices of his new guardian, Lord Carin, and the solicitor making the last arrangements for his stay at Carridan Hall.

Ian looked down at the dirty gray light that poured in the tall parlor windows, spilling over his feet. He had a scuff on his boot. Mama would not have liked that at all. Swallowing back the ache in his throat, Ian bent over and rubbed at the mark on his black shoe, but it wouldn’t come free. He frowned. And much to his dismay, a tear slipped out his eye and down his cheek.

“Hello?”

Horror-struck to be caught crying like a baby, he whipped his head up and dashed a hand over his eyes. He blinked as he spotted the girl standing not more than two
feet away. She’d sneaked up on him like a fairy creature. She looked like a fairy creature, too. Great big blue eyes stared out of her pale small face and her black hair was a wild riot of curls down her back. In her arms, she held a stuffed black dog with a red bow about its neck.

He drew in a shallow breath, wishing that he was that little toy tucked carefully in her arms; she looked so kind and only a little younger than himself. “Who are you?” he said, far more rudely than he’d intended.

“My name is Eva. I live here.” She cocked her head to the side. “Why are you crying?”

“I’m not.”

“You are indeed. Your eyes are all red.”

He looked away. He wasn’t going to argue with her. So the best thing was just to tell the truth. That’s what his papa would have said. “My parents have died.”

Her dark brows lifted and her pink mouth opened slightly before she nodded matter-of-factly. “It’s a very good reason to cry. I cried all the time.”

“Your parents, too?”

“They died when I was four. Ages ago now. Lord Carin liked my papa very much and so took me in because I haven’t any other family. He says I’m to marry Hamilton when we are of age. And then I shall always be a part of the family.”

“Oh.” For some reason, this struck him as most unpleasant. And a brief, sharp jealousy of this Hamilton boy flared in his chest. “Do you want to marry him?”

She looked at him as if he’d sprouted a second head. “It’s my duty,” she said, though she looked a little confused by the word.

Duty. He’d heard that word so many times. His nanny had said he mustn’t fail in his duty to his mama and papa and must not cry. Gentlemen didn’t cry. So he understood. Duty was important but hard.

“It’s very sad about your mama and papa, but you shall be happy again.”

So many people had told him that, but when she said it, he knew she spoke the truth. It was a funny feeling in his belly, like butterflies doing a springtime dance. He pointed at her toy, not wanting to speak of sad things any longer. He’d never seen anything quite like it. “That’s a very nice dog.”

“My mama made it for me. Before she died,” she said softly, then smiled.

All his limbs seemed to suddenly seize up. Why was it so hard to move? Even his breath seemed to do a strange little skip. Her smile—it made him want her to look at him that way always. Ian brushed his hair out of his eyes so as not to appear a complete dunce. “What’s his name?”

“Magilicutty.”

“That’s a funny sort of name.”

“He’s a funny sort of dog.” She squeezed the little fellow tight, looked down at it, then looked back up at Ian. “I say, haven’t you got a toy?”

He shook his head.

“Everyone should have one,” she said most seriously.

He bit his lip, his throat tightening up again. “I had an elephant.”

Her eyes grew big with delight. “Really? I’ve seen them only in picture books. Hamilton has a book of animals and I should like to see one made up. Such a thing would be much more interesting than my Magilicutty, love him as I do. May I meet him?”

Ian shook his head, trying to not let the image of his mother lying quite still and cold in the polished wood box linger in his head.

“Why ever not?”

“He’s—he’s with my mama.”

“Oh.” She breathed. “To protect her.”

“I thought she might be lonely . . . in the ground.”

“That was very good of you. But she shan’t be lonely. There are far too many angels for that. But she will most likely like to have something of yours in heaven. So that’s good.”

He hadn’t thought of it like that. “Yes.”

The sounds of running feet echoed through the hall and Eva sighed. “Hamilton.”

Another boy of about Ian’s age came running into the foyer and stopped suddenly at the sight of them. His dark brown hair glinted in the sun and he had dirt smudged on his nose. A mischievous glint warmed his eyes. “Are you Ian?”

Ian nodded, staring at the boy who would live with Eva forever. After all, that’s what husbands and wives did. Or, at least, that was what his mama had said.

“You must be bored witless. Standing here talking to a girl. I’ve been waiting ages for a mate. So let’s go fishing.”

Ian shifted on his feet. Fishing? He’d dearly love to go. He glanced at Eva. “Can she come?”

Hamilton scowled. “Eva? She’s a girl.”

Ian drew himself up and said, “She’s my friend.”

Hamilton threw up his hands. “Oh, all right.” Then he pointed at Eva. “Don’t get in the way.”

“Of course I shan’t. I’m quite good with worms.”

Ian laughed. Something caught his attention and he looked up, spotting a small sandy-haired boy peering down at them from the landing. “Who is that?”

Hamilton glanced up, then shrugged. “That’s just Thomas.”

“Does he want to come?”

Hamilton hesitated, then called up, “Would you like to come, Thomas?”

The boy jerked back from the stairs and ran down the hall.

Ian listened to the retreating steps, a funny feeling wobbling down his spine. There was something strange about the sandy-haired boy.

“Here, now.” Hamilton’s face grew serious, drawing Ian’s focus as he crossed the short space between them. Hamilton placed his hand on Ian’s shoulder. “You’ve had a bad time of it, but Eva and I will sort you out. Just you wait and see.”

Then, without another word about it, Hamilton marched off, waving his hand for them to follow.

Eva scooted up to Ian and whispered. “You can have Magilicutty sometimes, if you want. No one needs to know. He’s a very good dog.”