Secrets of the Heart (29 page)

She frowned. “I’m not exactly certain. Mr. Sullivan tends to lose count periodically when it suits him.”

“What do you mean, lose count?” Devlin’s stomach growled its discontent.

“It sounds as though we better find you something to eat.” Mrs. Sharpe smiled. “Unfortunately, I’m sure it will not be the kind of food you are accustomed to eating.”

“You wouldn’t be trying to change the subject, would you?” He glanced at her. She studied him.

“Mr. Sullivan loses count when it suits his purse. We may have five to ten patients disappear or gain admittance every so often as Mr. Sullivan’s greed dictates. I imagine it’s quite a lucrative business for the man and whoever else he may be working with.”

They came to a door with a lock on it. Mrs. Sharpe pulled the keys from her pocket. The door opened to the outside. Devlin was taken aback by a gust of air heavy with decay. He tried to hold his breath, desperate not to inhale again. He pulled a handkerchief from his pocket and covered his nose, mirroring the keeper’s actions.

“It’s usually a relief to step out of the asylum, but not now, not with the bodies burning.”

Devlin followed her glance and saw the dying embers of the funeral pyre of the night before. A shoe lay smoking near the edge of the charred remains. Devlin choked back the desire to vomit. “Dear God in heaven, claim those poor souls.”

“Poor souls indeed.” She removed her handkerchief for a moment. “It’s a foul job,” she said and wrinkled her nose in disgust. “But you know as well as I that it must be done. Come.” She pulled him in the opposite direction. “You must concentrate your efforts on the living.”

“I know, but...”

“The asylum is always closed up and stuffy. A horrid place at times,” she explained.

Devlin pursued the subject of the asylum and forced the picture of the smoking pile of human remains from his mind. “I thought the asylum was closed up against the rain.” He stopped dead. “You mean to tell me they never open the windows?”

“The last doctor that was here said it was unhealthy, that all windows must be closed at all times. He even punished a patient for breaking one. Come, Doctor, we cannot stand here all day. There is much work to be done.” Mrs. Sharpe continued toward the kitchen.

“Punished? How?” He fell back in step with her.

“The doctor had many ways of punishing patients, all within the law, of course. The deplorable man called it ‘the necessary treatment.’”

“What did he do?”

“He gave them a cold-water bath, more like a drowning if you ask me, and manacled them on one of the many balconies in this mausoleum. Stripped the poor souls of their dignity and sometimes their clothes.”

“He what?” Devlin knew perfectly well what she’d said, yet he could not fathom the cruelty of it. “I cannot begin to comprehend the horror.”

“I believe you begin to understand.” She stopped for a brief moment and looked at him. “It’s not easy getting reputable people to help with those that are mad. Unless you know that people are committed to the Lord’s work, it’s more likely people of the devil’s choosing that come looking for employment in places like Ashcroft.”

“How can you work in a place like this?”

“I am a widow, sir, with no income of my own. This was the only work I could find. It seems God has called me to minister to these poor souls.” She led the way into a large outer building. “The kitchen, sir.”

Madeline’s stomach growled noisily. She was hungry, a good sign. It was time to find something to eat. She slowly sat up on the narrow cot in the isolated cell and fought off a wave of dizziness. Her legs wobbled but worked well enough.

She slipped on her dry clothes and went out through the open cell and into the corridor where the guard usually stood. He wasn’t there. She pushed on the barred gate. It swung open easily. Sun lighted the dust-streaked windows. Madeline longed to get outside.

The morning din reached her ears: moans, laughter, crying, swearing. Hell’s cacophony. Madeline sensed someone was behind her. She carefully looked about to see who it was, but no one was there. Then she walked a few more feet and saw something or someone scramble in the gloomy shadows.

“Is that you, Mad Maddie?” croaked a male voice.

Madeline panicked for a moment, wondering if she’d imagined the voice. Then she heard it again and froze. “Who are you?” She struggled to keep her voice calm.

“Only me.” A dwarf with long stringy yellow hair and dancing blue eyes emerged from the shadows to her right. “Mad Maddie, it is you! Shall I play you a song, Mad Maddie?”

Madeline gasped and took a step backward. “Who… who are you? And why do you call me Mad Maddie?”

The dwarf’s attire consisted of a dirty white shirt, red vest, and faded brown pants. The shirtsleeves fell below his hands, and the pants had been cut off so he could walk without tripping. The tip of a pair of moldy boots poked out from beneath his trousers. Given his appearance and stance, Madeline did not feel as though she was in any immediate danger.

“My name is Simon. Simon the Dwarf.” He bowed gallantly. “I’ve been watching you since you came to Ashcroft. Simon says your name is Mad Maddie, and so it is!” He pulled a wooden harmonica from his ragged shirt pocket nearly hidden by the buttonless vest and immediately started playing a lively folk tune, spinning about her with amazing agility.

“Simon, you are most amusing.” Madeline laughed. “I have not laughed in a very long time.”

“I am glad, my lady. It is not often that one hears the sound of happy laughter in this place, mad laughter a plenty, but not truly happy, like yours. Are you no longer mad, Maddie?”

“I was never
mad
, Simon. I don’t expect that to make any sense to you, but it’s true.”

Simon reached up and grabbed her hand. “Follow me.”

His hands were cold, dry, and amazingly comforting. “I can’t go with you, Simon. I must find something to eat. Do you know the way to the kitchen?”

“There is no way to the kitchen for you. The door is locked, and only the attendants have keys. But you are with Simon, and if Simon says open the door, then it will be opened.”

Madeline allowed the dwarf to pull her along. They passed others sitting, sleeping, or pacing the long corridors of Ashcroft. She realized there was a mix of men and women everywhere. “I thought the men were separated from the women, Simon?”

“Don’t pay any attention to them, Mad Maddie.”

She felt the heat rise in her face. “But—”

“Exactly,” Simon said. “Come, now. You must get used to strange sights and happenings in here. It’s only normal after all.”

“Normal?” Madeline waved her hand in an arc. “You call this normal, Simon?”

“Of course. What’s normal in here is bizarre in the outside world, but those in the outside world don’t understand or see how bizarre they really are, or someone would put them in here. So… they pretend to be normal.”

Madeline looked at Simon and shook her head trying to understand his logic, then laughed. “You must excuse my ignorance, Simon. I have just recuperated from a fever and don’t think my power of understanding is quite up to following you yet.”

Simon gasped and stepped back. “Fever? You don’t have the pox, do you, Mad Maddie?”

“I do not have the pox.” She pulled up the sleeves of her gown and showed him that she possessed no rash. “See, there is nothing to fear.”

Simon took a step forward and stroked her arm before Madeline realized what was happening. “Your skin is very soft,” Simon said and smiled mischievously.

Madeline snatched back her arm. “Simon! You are not permitted to take such liberties.”

Simon stuck his nose in the air as if greatly offended and sauntered away. Suddenly he stopped and swiveled around to look at her.

“Well, are you coming or not?” he grumbled. “I thought you were hungry.”

The noise of the asylum could be irritating, and Madeline hungered, not only for food but also for silence. “I’m coming.”

Simon led her to a door with a large lock on it, but he did not stop at the door. Instead he made a sharp right into what appeared to be a dead end. Then, looking about to be certain no one watched him, he reached up on tiptoe and stuck his hand into a small crevice.

“What are you doing?” Simon may not be as harmless as she first imagined. Perhaps her judgment
was
impaired. Then she heard a scraping sound and was amazed to see the wall begin to shift.

Simon looked up at her and grinned, an incredible yellow, gapped-toothed grin. Then he scampered through the opening, dragging her with him.

Darkness swallowed them. Simon held tight to her hand and led the way, stepping carefully through the secret passage. Her other hand she slid across the damp, cool wall for balance, not daring to think what lay in the spiderwebs she caught as they moved along. She had to stoop in order to hold on to Simon’s hand. Something scurried over her shoe and she jumped, stifling a scream, but making enough racket to gain admonishment from Simon.

“Shhh,” he said. “We’re almost there.”

“Get me out of here,” Madeline demanded, batting a spiderweb away from her face. Simon’s stature did nothing to aid in getting rid of the sticky clinging threads.

Simon stopped, and Madeline nearly fell over him. “What are you doing?” she asked, annoyed. “I don’t like confined spaces. I can’t breathe.” Madeline’s breath started coming hard and fast. She knew she’d faint dead away if she didn’t get out soon.

“Here, my lady.” Simon pulled Madeline from the passage. She breathed a sigh of relief as the sun penetrated her with warm rays. A scraping sound caught Madeline’s attention.

“Where are we? What is that dreadful odor?” She looked about, trying to get her bearings.

Simon’s impish face sobered instantly. “The dead.”

“How awful.” Madeline covered her nose with her hand. She quickly examined the outside of Ashcroft, averting her eyes from the smoldering fire. “The poor souls.”

Simon scampered off in front of her, then stopped to see if she followed. “Come, come, come. For someone so hungry, you surely are slow. Come now, Mad Maddie, and we shall eat.” He held out his hand to her.

“I’m coming.” She forced her feet to move away from the horror.

Simon led her across the stone courtyard and toward a low-lying brick outbuilding. They entered through a heavy wooden door, and Madeline came face-to-face with Ravensmoore.

“How did you get out?” Ravensmoore asked, obviously perturbed. “You shouldn’t be walking around by yourself. You might be injured or worse.”

“But—” Madeline tried to defend herself.

“But nothing. You should… ouch!” Ravensmoore doubled over and grabbed his knee, which Simon had kicked.

Simon purpled with rage. “She’s not by herself, dimwit. She’s with me!”

“Simon, how rude.” Madeline stifled a laugh at the look on Ravensmoore’s face. “Lord Ravensmoore, this is Simon. Simon, this is Lord Ravensmoore. He’s a doctor.”

“How nice.” Simon gritted his teeth.

“Dr. Grayson will do for now,” Ravensmoore said. “I’d prefer not to use my title in the asylum.”

She turned her attention to Ravensmoore. “Simon was kind enough to bring me out in hopes of getting some food. I’m so hungry.” Madeline prayed that would cut short their argument.

“The other patients need to eat as well, but there is no sign of food inside.”

“Not enough help,” said the cook, who had been looking on with amusement. “Too many sick. Simon, what will you be wantin’ from me today?”

Simon hopped about. “What’s the best you got, Helga?”

The cook looked up at the ceiling, as though in deep thought. “Porridge.”

“That’s what I’m having then. Porridge! Delicious porridge.” Simon looked at Madeline and grinned. “And so is Mad Maddie.”

“Simon, stop calling me that,” Madeline demanded.

“I think there is one thing we can all agree on, and that is the state of our hunger,” Ravensmoore commented. “Let’s eat.” He put his hand on the small of her back and directed her toward a wooden table that appeared relatively clean.

Madeline settled onto the bench and helped herself to a warm slice of bread. “Perhaps after we eat, I could help distribute food to the patients.” She deeply inhaled the aroma of the bread.