Lucy and the Doctors (3 page)

“Don’t speak,” he said, squeezing her hand, and she closed her eyes. But no sooner had she done so than they flew open, and the expression she fixed him with was one wild with fright.

“Don’t hurt me!” she cried, and recoiled so violently that Benedict had to catch her to keep her from falling from the table. “Don’t hurt me! Please! You’re hurting me! No, Judge Bonham! I beg of you!”

“Thomas!” He turned, calling to his friend, who was already running back into the room. “She’s having some sort of hallucination,” he said, but when Benedict reached for a syringe and more sedative, he held up his hand. “No. The last thing she needs is more oblivion.”

Thomas turned with a sigh and set the things down on the counter.

“See,” Benedict said. “She’s already slipping away again.”

And she was. Lucy had faded back into unconsciousness.

“Did you hear what she said?” Benedict asked.

Thomas nodded.

“We can’t draw conclusions, though, Benedict. We’re scientists. There’s no place for emotion here. It could well be she’s as mad as he claims and is simply gripped by a nightmare.”

“It’s not emotional to suspect there’s more afoot, Thomas.” Benedict lifted the young woman from the bed and left the exam room for the bathing chamber, his colleague in quick step behind him. The claw-foot tub was filled nearly to the brim, steam rising off the water. Lucy’s eyes fluttered as he lowered her into it, her body tensing then relaxing.

“I’ll hold her steady,” Thomas said, kneeling at the head of the tub and grasping her by the upper body. Benedict noticed how his friend’s large hands grazed the sides of Lucy’s upraised, round breasts. She was stirring more, and both men were watching now for the first signs of the condition Dr. Litman described.

“The slightest touch—even though the haze—should have the nipples hard, tight peaks,” Benedict remarked. “And yet, nothing.” His voice was thick as he said the words, and he cleared his throat and turned away to get the soap.

“True,” Thomas said. “With the level of nymphomania Litman described, you’d think the slightest sensation would cause arousal, even in the subconscious. But we’ve not started to bathe her.”

Benedict had retrieved the washcloth and soap. He turned back, wondering as he approached the tub why he was so nervous. He’d seen countless naked women, some as fair of form as Lucy. He’d been with more than a few women sexually. Yet there was something about
this
young woman—so helpless, so vulnerable—that affected him in a way no other one had.

“Ben, are you coming?”

“Yes. Of course.” He made his way to the tub, kneeling down. Dipping the cloth into the water, he wetted it before lathering it well with the soap. Benedict kept it over his hand, a barrier between his palm and her bare skin. But he could still feel the curve of her shoulder as he washed, the dips and valleys of her physical terrain as he moved lower, the roundness of her buttocks, the soft swell of her thighs. When he moved between them, the rag slipped from his hand and as he groped for it, his fingers brushed her pussy. He felt his face flush as his cock throbbed in response to the sensation of her silky soft mons. Quickly, he retrieved the rag and scrubbed her, trying to ignore the lengthening of his cock as it pressed against the front of his pants.

“You do her hair,” Benedict said curtly, turning as he stood. He fetched a cup, but didn’t turn back until he’d discreetly moved his coat to hide his turgid erection. Thomas, at least, seemed oblivious to his distress. But the reason why gave Benedict no comfort. His friend had positioned Lucy’s fair head so that it rested against his arm, and was staring down into her face, studying the features intently.

“Here.” Benedict pushed the cup toward him and Thomas looked up, pulled back to the present.

“Thank you, Benedict,” he said.

A half hour later, Lucy was sitting in a chair by the fire, clad in a shift Thomas had found in the guest room. She was starting to stir as Benedict combed the last tangles from a mane of thick blond hair now shining and fragrant with lavender. She’d gone from broken doll to restful child, her sweet face innocent amid the golden frame of tresses.

“Lucy?” Thomas squeezed her hand, his voice gentle as he spoke. “Lucy?”

Her eyelids twitched, her long lashes fluttered, and then her eyes opened. Benedict moved to sit on the ottoman at her feet, his eyes fixed on her. He was a man of science who never prayed, but found himself silently doing just that now as he summoned whatever divinity there was to keep her awake.

The green eyes stayed open.

She said nothing at first, but just looked around almost curiously. She’d pulled her hand from Thomas’ grip and was clutching the blanket Benedict had thoughtfully put across her lap. They were in the sitting room before the fire. She turned her attention from one man to the next, then to the blaze. When she spoke, her voice was barely audible.

“Where is this place?”

“You’re at the home and offices of Doctors Benedict Crane and Thomas Allard,” Benedict said quietly.

She looked at Benedict, directly at him, and he could see that the fog of morphine had all but lifted from her sea green eyes. “I was somewhere before this,” she said, turning her gaze to Thomas. “Somewhere terrifying. There were screams.” She moved her hand to her chest as she sought to remember. “Screams in the dark.” She paused. “Some were mine.”

“You were in St. Bart’s Asylum,” Thomas said. “Do you remember being taken there?”

Her shudder was apparent to both men. She shook her head. “No.” Then her expression changed and light caught the tear that rolled from one eye to trail down her pale cheek. A shudder accompanied it. “Wait. Yes. I do remember. If only I could forget…”

“Can you tell us what happened?” Thomas put the question gently as he pressed a cup of tea into her hand. She looked at the cup gratefully and took a deep sip of Earl Grey heavily fortified with sugar. With a sigh, she leaned her head back on the chair and closed her eyes.

“Yes, I can tell you,” she said. “But first you must come to tell me why I’m in your house.”

Benedict exchanged a glance with Thomas, who nodded in consent.

“Dr. Allard and I practice a particular branch of medicine,” he said. “We specialize in female health and sexuality. We’ve been asked to conduct a study on nymphomania.”

“Nymphomania?” She repeated the word with a confused shake of the head.

“It’s a term for women with an unnatural craving for carnal things,” Benedict explained. “Named for the Greek nymphs noted for their unrestrained passions. Of course, in mythology such behavior was perfectly acceptable. Today, however, in civil society, a woman is expected to control herself.”

“What does this have to do with me?” she asked hesitantly.

“You really don’t know?” Thomas asked, urging her to take another sip of tea. Once she’d downed two more swallows, he took the delicate cup and set it aside.

“Why should I?” Lucy asked.

The glances exchanged now were weighted with concern.

“You were recently married, were you not?” Benedict inquired.

Fear registered on Lucy’s face. “Yes,” she whispered. “To a much older man I’d never laid eyes on. He was my guardian, I was told. The couple who raised me—a kindly pastor and his wife—were also older. They bade me write this man, Archibald Bonham, each year to apprise him of my progress in schooling and the like.” She paused. “I turned eighteen a fortnight ago and on that day was told that my designation would be changed from ward to wife, as Bonham wanted me for a bride. I was told as his ward, I had no say in the matter; it was for him to decide whom I would marry, even if it were him. We are not blood related, I was told; he’d merely adopted me. And so I was sent here to London to wed a man I’d never met.”

Benedict’s heart seized at the news. He had an idea of what was coming, but did not want to lead her, so he merely pressed her to continue.

“I… I knew nothing of this man. He chilled me upon our meeting. The way he stared… licking his lips…” She shuddered violently. “It was as if I were a fondant to be consumed. I…” She covered her face with her hands now and began to sob.

“Please continue,” Thomas urged, and they waited for her to compose herself.

“I remember little of the wedding. I was so very afraid and confused. There was a reception, but we left almost as soon as it began. I was taken to a house in the city. There was a maid there. She helped me into a nightgown and took me to a chamber that smelled of smoke and lineaments. Judge Bonham arrived. He was wearing a dressing gown. He told me I was his gift from God, that it was my wedding night, and that he would take my virginity. I did not know what he meant. But then he… he took hold of me. His foul breath, the stink of it… the slime of his tongue as he licked my neck. I did not know what he wanted; I only knew I wanted none of it. He repulsed me. I did not desire him. I told him so. He pinched my…”

She moved her hands to her breasts, clutching them defensively in stark memory. Benedict could see the fear in her eyes as she relived the moment.

“He kept putting his hand between… between my legs. He lifted my gown and shoved me onto the bed. I felt him pushing something against my bottom. It was soft, like a dead frog.”

Here Benedict looked away, realizing he would have been amused by the description under any other circumstance. But she was so clearly distressed that he could not find humor in it.

Lucy paused again and he placed a gentle hand over hers, urging her to continue.

“I-I-don’t know what was supposed to happen, but whatever it was I did not want it. When I struggled with him, Judge Bonham stood and pulled me from the bed. As he stood there, I could see… the
thing
he’d been poking me with. He looked down at it. It was small and soft and it seemed to enrage him that I was looking. Oh, his face. It was so angry. Spittle flew from his mouth as he shouted at me, asking me the most terrible questions and calling me the vilest names when I answered him honestly.”

“He threw me to the floor and began to hit me, but then he suddenly stopped, opened the door, and called for the maid to fetch his secretary, whom I knew as Mr. Stiles, the fellow who fetched me to Judge Bonham from my home. Judge Bonham told Mr. Stiles that I’d revealed myself to be a whore, and that I was diseased. He said I’d exhibited ‘unnatural passions,’ and that he could not touch me. Then he told me I’d never see the light of day again due to my ‘sins.’”

Tears coursed down her cheeks now as Lucy continued recalling that first and final night with her husband. “Stiles left. When he returned it was with two burly men with shaved heads. They were dressed in white and were in the company of that other fellow, the one you spoke to…”

“Litman,” Thomas said, looking at his colleague.

“Yes, I believe that to be his name,” Lucy confirmed. “Judge Bonham repeated his claims to this man. I was so gripped with fear I dared not dispute them. Everything was happening so fast. The next thing I knew, something was pressed over my face. For days I could only recall Bonham’s last words to me.”

“What were they?” Benedict asked.

“This will teach you. Bitch.” She began to sob then, her small hands covering her face as her slim shoulders shook with her emotion. But then came the reassuring weight of a large hand on her back, gently rubbing, and deep voices telling her how brave she’d been to recount what had happened. Lucy forced herself to regain control of her emotions as she faced the two doctors through her tears.

“Whatever he has told you is not true. I have endeavored all my life to be good. Yes, I could be willful at times, but what child isn’t? Oh, that I could return to those happy days in the care of the good pastor and his wife. But I am of age now, and before I left I was told that I was an adult now. But I want no part of being grown up! It’s so cruel!”

Now the sobs returned, and it was obvious that she could not stop them.

Benedict could take no more. He lifted her into his arms, dropping a reassuring kiss on the top of her head. Together, the men carried her to a comfortable bedchamber bathed in the warm glow of gaslight. In the grate against one wall, coals glowed red, taking the chill from the air. Thomas Allard pulled back the coverlet as his colleague gently laid Lucy down. Comforting words were spoken by both men as they covered her up.

“Sleep well,” Thomas said. “You’ve done nothing wrong, Mrs. Bonham.”

“Please,” she sobbed. “Do not call me that. He’s put me away, and I am not sorry for it. If you must address me, let it simply be ‘Lucy.’”

“Lucy it is, then,” Thomas replied. “Sweet Lucy. Dear Lucy. Try to rest. We will sort this out.”

He gave her a reassuring smile before the two men turned away.

“Sirs?” she called after them, her voice hitching. The men looked back.

“Since I am not what you thought, you’ll have no need for me now. Will you send me back, then?”

“No.” The men spoke in unison, and looked at one another as if surprised by the other. Then Benedict took a step toward her.

“You need not worry,” he said. “Nothing bad will ever happen to you again. We promise.”

Chapter Four: The Doctors’ Decision

It was late into the night and both Benedict and Thomas were still up. Thomas had even made a pot of strong tea to fortify them as they sat at the kitchen table, talking.

“I hope we didn’t make Lucy a promise that we can’t keep,” Thomas said quietly.

“What other promise could we make?” Benedict topped off his cup from the pot sitting between them. “We can’t send her back. Nor are we obligated to. She’s our legal ward now. Dr. Litman was granted custody and transferred that custody to us.”

“Yes,” Thomas said wearily. “But for the purposes of scientific study, Benedict. Now we both know that she’s unsuitable. She’s no more a nymphomaniac than I am a Lord.” He stood, running his hands through his thick blond hair as he began to pace the kitchen.

“Dr. Litman doesn’t know that,” Benedict argued. “We gave no timeline for the study. So far as he or anyone else knows, Lucy is ensconced here as the subject of our scientific observations. And he gave no orders for us to return her, either. In truth, we could pronounce her cured after some months, and release her.”