A Simple Lady (15 page)

Wandering from the library, Elizabeth decided to go back to the kitchen and procure a saucer of milk for Apollo, who had been gnawing for the past five minutes on a streamer of pink ribbon that dropped from the bow tied beneath her bosom. She was just passing the front door when the knocker sounded.

Elizabeth stepped into the edge of the dining room while Larkman hurried to answer the door. Despite her recent longing for company, she now realized she had no desire to exchange pleasantries with any of her London acquaintances that afternoon.

“Master Gerald,” Larkman intoned, his voice just loud enough to carry to Elizabeth in her hiding place.

“Hello, Larkman. Is Lady Kenrick in?”

“I’m here, Gerald,” Elizabeth said, stepping forward. She had not seen Gerald since the day he introduced her to Ethel Stanhope, and she had been wondering if Kenrick had ordered him to stay away from her. Apparently not, she concluded, smiling brightly at her husband’s cousin. After her parents’ disastrous visit, she desperately needed to talk with someone who tended to praise rather than criticize her.

“My dear cousin, how charming you look this afternoon.” Gerald had placed his gloves on a nearby table and now hurried with outstretched hands to greet Elizabeth. She hastily handed Apollo into the care of a footman and allowed Gerald to clasp her hands in his own. The admiring expression in his eyes did much to soothe her lacerated spirits.

“Thank you, Gerald. How kind of you to call. Will you take some refreshments with me?”

“I had hoped, rather, to talk you into accompanying me for a drive. My curricle is just outside, and the weather this afternoon is unusually pleasant.”

“A drive would be wonderful,” Elizabeth said, deciding that an excursion into the warming sunshine was just what she needed to thaw the cold knot of anguish that had settled in her stomach. “I’ll fetch my bonnet.”

Ten minutes later, Elizabeth, seated beside Gerald in his curricle, listened with lighter spirits as he described a ball he had attended where one catastrophe followed another. “Then a drunken footman, hired on just for that evening, dropped a tray of glasses into the punch bowl and splashed punch onto the Duchess of Randolph’s satin gown. She could be heard screeching by everyone in the house.”

Elizabeth felt a momentary twinge of guilt as she chuckled. She knew she shouldn’t take pleasure in hearing about the mishaps of Gerald’s unfortunate hostess, but she couldn’t help feeling a bit relieved to know she was not the only person in London for whom social occasions could turn into calamities.

A few minutes later, Gerald suggested that he leave his horses in the care of his groom while he and Elizabeth went for a walk in Green Park, and Elizabeth agreed. She was pleased she had done so when they entered the park and found that the crowds were thin. She was still too upset to feel up to making casual conversation with chance-met acquaintances.

She and Gerald strolled in silence for several minutes. Busily replaying in her mind every disastrous second of her parents’ visit, Elizabeth was not aware that Gerald also appeared disturbed until he stopped under a spreading elm and turned to her, an expression of distress darkening his eyes.

“I have been longing to see you alone for a minute, my dear Elizabeth, to express my deep regrets for having introduced you to Ethel Stanhope. While it is true that she and I are distantly related, I had not seen the lady in several years and was certainly unaware of her connection with Agatha Hibber. I was truly horrified when Kenrick informed me that Ethel had taken you to Mrs. Hibber’s gaming house. I would not have blamed him had he landed me a facer. I certainly deserved it for having been so careless in making you acquainted with that female. Can you ever forgive me?”

Having that very afternoon experienced the humiliation of seeing good intentions go awry, Elizabeth knew she couldn’t blame Gerald for his blunder, even though it had cost her many uncomfortable minutes. Besides, his mistake had also resulted in drawing her and Kenrick closer, and Elizabeth had realized that she very much wanted to become better acquainted with her husband.

“Well,” she said, smiling a bit mischievously, “I will forgive you if you will drive me to a particular place I wish to see.”

“Gladly, my lady.” Gerald’s face instantly brightened. “I would drive you to the ends of the earth if by doing so I could earn your forgiveness.”

“Oh, I do not wish to go that far,” Elizabeth said, laughing a bit too brightly. “I only wish to drive past Bethlem Hospital.”

Gerald became suddenly solemn. “You wish to see Bedlam?” he asked, his tone incredulous.

“Yes, I do.” Elizabeth raised her chin determinedly. She could not explain even to herself why she wished to see that notorious madhouse. Despite her mother’s parting threat, she had no fear that she herself would ever become an inmate there. Still, she could not help wondering what the infamous hospital looked like.

Gerald was gnawing on his lip. “I am not at all sure Kenrick would want me to take you there,” he said.

“But my husband told me himself that he felt I should learn more about the darker side of life in London,” Elizabeth responded quickly. “And if you do not take me, I shall hire a hackney and go alone.”

“Good God! I know Kenrick would not want you riding about London in a hackney, especially alone. Are you certain this is what you want to do?”

“Positive,” Elizabeth replied with a stubborn set to her jaw.

“Very well, then. I can drive you past the building, but visitation is strictly controlled these days, you know. A few years ago, the curious populace could pay an attendant for admission and then look their fill at the patients chained in cells like wild animals. We are much more humane today. Now one must obtain a governor’s ticket to gain admission in order to see the hospital inmates.”

Elizabeth shuddered. “I have no desire to view the poor wretches who are housed there. I merely wish to see the edifice. May we go?”

“Very well,” Gerald responded, his tone noticeably lacking in enthusiasm. “Let us return to the curricle.”

In less than ten minutes, Elizabeth was seated beside Gerald as he guided his horses along Piccadilly in preparation for turning toward Moorfields.

Bethlem Hospital was not at all what Elizabeth had anticipated. The tales she had heard of Bedlam had led her to expect a hulking pile shrouded by a dismal mist. Instead, as she admitted to herself while sitting in Gerald’s curricle and staring across the green lawns surrounding the asylum, the structure itself was very attractive.

Gerald observed Elizabeth’s amazement with a smile. “John Evelyn once likened Bethlem Hospital to the Tuileries,” he said.

“I see the resemblance,” Elizabeth admitted. “Still, despite the building’s beauty, there is an atmosphere about the place that makes me sad. Do you feel it? Is it an aura of hopelessness, do you suppose?”

Gerald shrugged. “Doubtless I am less sensitive than you, my dear. I feel nothing out of the ordinary. Are you ready to return to Kenrick House?”

“Yes, thank you. But wait! Look, Gerald. Those boys are leading that child as though he were a dog. They have a rope tied around his neck.”

Gerald turned to look at the small group approaching the curricle. Four unkempt boys who appeared to be in their early teens were, indeed, dragging behind them a scruffy lad of no more than seven or eight years. The little fellow’s hands were tied in front of him.

“Hello, gov’ner.” One of the older boys, observing that the group had commanded Gerald’s attention, appeared to believe he had found someone who could provide him with information. “We’ve brung a new inmate fer Bedlam. Can ye tell me where we ought to take ’im?”

Gerald’s lip curled in distaste. “I cannot,” he said tersely, turning his attention back to his horses and lifting the reins.

“Wait, Gerald,” Elizabeth cried, placing her hand on his arm. “I wish to speak to that child.” Without waiting for help, she jumped from the curricle onto the walk in front of the group of children.

With a muffled curse, Gerald called for his groom to go to the horses’ heads and quickly descended to hurry to Elizabeth’s side.

“Why are you taking this child to Bedlam?” she was asking.

The largest of the boys answered. “Billy’s a dummy and an orphan to boot. His ma died last week, and there ain’t nobody left who can take care of ’im. We could of let ’im die in the streets, but I’d promised ’is Ma to see if I couldn’t find ’im someplace to live. Bedlam is the only place I figured would take ’im in.”

“Well, you will not be able to get him admitted today,” Gerald announced, impatience clear in his tone. “I recall reading that hospital admission is obtained only by petition to the governors and to the committee and that they sit only on Saturdays. This is Thursday. You will have to bring him back in two days.”

“There, now, Harry,” another of the boys called to the young man who had responded to Elizabeth’s question. “I told ye this was a waste of time. Mayhaps ye’ll agree now to drown ’im like we should of done to start with.”

“Shut up, Freddy,” Harry said, turning to glare at the second youth.

“Drown?” Elizabeth repeated, her tone imbued with horror. “Surely you would not murder this child?”

“Nay. ’Twouldn’t be murder, lady,” another of the boys informed her. “Billy’s jest a simpleminded dummy.”

“He is a human being,” Elizabeth replied firmly. Pushing past two of the larger boys, she smiled as she knelt in front of the little captive. “Hello, Billy,” she said softly, looking into his eyes. “I would like to be your friend. I would like to help you. Will you allow me to do that?”

The child said nothing, but Elizabeth was certain she saw a flicker of understanding deep in those staring eyes.

“He can’t talk, lady,” Harry informed her, his scathing tone expressing obvious disgust with what he perceived to be Elizabeth’s own lack of understanding. “I’ve already told ye. Billy’s a dummy.”

“Perhaps,” Elizabeth murmured, still staring into the little boy’s eyes. What, if anything, she wondered, was hidden in those dark blue depths? Surely she had detected fear there, along with some comprehension of what was happening to him.

She stood resolutely and began untying the rope that had been cutting into the little boy’s thin neck.

“Hey,” Freddy yelled. “Ye can’t do that. We need that rope to lead ’im with.”

“Yes,” Elizabeth said, turning to glare at the older boys. “And, no doubt, for binding his arms and legs before you drown him. Well, you will not be drowning this boy. I am taking him home with me.”

Gerald groaned under cover of the cheers of the older boys who had rushed to help Elizabeth untie the knot.

“Thank ye, ma’am,” Harry said, his wide grin expressing his relief. “And jest ye remember, if Billy’s too much trouble, ye can always bring ’im back to Bedlam.”

“Billy could never be that much trouble,” Elizabeth assured the youths, allowing Gerald to help her back into the curricle. Then she held out her arms for the child.

Gerald was muttering something about fleas when he took his seat beside Elizabeth and snapped his whip above the horses’ heads to hurry them on their way.

Chapter Thirteen

Maneuvering his phaeton through the bustling London streets presented few difficulties for the Marquess of Kenrick. His innate skill, combined with years of experience, called for little concentration on his part, a fact he didn’t find especially gratifying on this particular afternoon. Had it been necessary for him to focus on his driving, he would have had less time to dwell on the anxieties of the last few days.

One thing he could be thankful for. Homer Smithfield appeared to be well on his way to recovery, despite the doctor’s less-than-optimistic prognostications when Kenrick first arrived at Oak Groves. Although the bullet had miraculously missed all vital organs when it plowed into Homer’s back, the ensuing fever, which had raged for three days and nights, had threatened to finish what the bullet had begun.

Kenrick had grown attached to Homer Smithfield over the years. Homer had been bailiff at Oak Groves long before Kenrick came into his inheritance, and the older man had done much to help the young marquess understand the significance of his legacy. Riding with Homer over the fields and through the woodlands of his family’s oldest residence, meeting the tenants who had farmed the land long before the new heir was born, understanding the efforts that were required to maintain such an estate—all had given Kenrick a sense of belonging he had found nowhere else.

Seeing his old friend brought low by a bullet in the back infuriated Kenrick, but he quickly realized his anger was ineffectual. What Homer needed was not vengeance but constant nursing and encouragement, both of which Kenrick provided, choosing to spend most of his time in the sick room until Homer was out of danger.

The following days were filled with overseeing the early harvesting, calling on the tenants to reassure them about Homer’s condition, and, at the first opportunity, visiting the local magistrate, who had written off the shooting as the accidental act of an unknown poacher. Although Kenrick did not believe a poacher was responsible for the wounding of his friend, he had no other theory for which he could offer proof and so decided not to press the matter at the moment.

The day before his unexpected return to London, Kenrick had spent much of the morning riding about the estate so he could assure Homer that all was in order. Then he sequestered himself in the library to work on the estate books. It had been years since he had dealt with the seemingly endless columns of figures, and he found the chore unusually fatiguing. After two tedious hours, he decided to reward himself with a glass of brandy from the sideboard, but before he had even pushed back from his desk, the library door was thrust open and the butler stepped inside.

“My lord,” Drowell exclaimed, his expression harried. “I am aware that you are not at home to guests today, but the Earl and Countess of Ravingate insist on seeing you.”

“Damnation,” Kenrick muttered beneath his breath just before his in-laws swept into the room. Their matching frowns suggested their visit was going to be less than congenial. Still, as he was aware, the role of host carried with it the necessity of observing the conventions. He stood, walked around his desk, and moved forward to greet his guests.