The Reinvented Miss Bluebeard (London Paranormal 03) (14 page)

"It's time for the black stains again?" Jane asked approvingly. "I do so love to use my imagination on them. It's like when I sit down to sketch birds."

"Inkblots," Eve corrected kindly. No matter how many times she used her inkblot therapy, her patients got the terminology wrong. She'd even tried to drill the name home using a roar-shock method, but to no avail.

Her patients' inability to remember the name was particularly aggravating, because Eve was rather proud of her thrilling new methodology in treating the mentally ill. It had begun as an accident back at the University of Vienna. For an internship, she had been working at a hospital. One night, tired and worn-out from three straight days and nights of being on call, she had spilled a bottle of ink. At the time she had been taking notes. A patient had commented on the black spots, giving Eve a brief glimpse into his fog-shrouded mind. Soon she was trying the stains on other patients, and eventually discussed it with her mentor, Dr. Kroger. He had embraced the new therapy. Together, they had refined the stains to conform to various images they felt might stimulate the subconscious mind.

"Now, what does this one remind you of?" she asked.

"Asher putting on his cloak," Jane replied. "Did I tell you that he thinks I have the prettiest feet he's ever seen?"

"Odd, I thought the earl would be a neck man," Eve remarked.

Lady Jane blushed. "He loves my neck, too," she admitted. "He's just batty about necks and feet." Then, pointing at a certain spot on the stain, she added, "Yes—Asher's putting on his coat, and that is Spot by his foot."

Eve rather thought the inkblot resembled a pirate sword. "This one?" she asked, holding out the next picture.

"Let me see. Hmm." Jane put her finger to her chin. "This one reminds me of Asher rising from his coffin. He's smiling happily upon seeing me. Waking him is
so
divine. Did I mention that he calls me his little ray of nonfatal sunshine?"

"How lovely," Eve replied stoically. Each to her own desires, she decided. Holding up another mess of black splotches, she asked, "How about this?"

"Asher—waltzing."

Eve twisted her pearl necklace, making notes on her notepad.

Obsessive patient. Whereas a spot definitely resembles a person walking a plank, Lady Jane sees her bloody husband. We need to focus more on her fear of bloodlust rather than plain old lust
.

Warily, she flipped over the next picture.

"Dr. Eve, really!" Jane protested. "I can't believe you have a picture of Asher stepping out of the bath!"

Eve almost broke her necklace, twisting it viciously. This was really too much. Young love was a wondrous thing, a many-splendored thing, but not when it barred the way to unlocking submerged and perhaps crucial memories. "Lady Jane, I beg to differ. This particular ink spot is of a crow's nest aboard a pirate ship. I have never had any erotic ink spots in my possession, nor will I. And I certainly would never place in my therapy an ink spot of your husband without any clothes. Perhaps if you look closer at the picture, you might see something else." Her fingers began to tap on Henry Morgan's skull in slight vexation. "Something
not
dealing with your husband."

Accepting the request good-naturedly, Lady Jane lowered her head to again study the ink spot. Her brow wrinkled in concentration. Finally, after several moments passed, she spoke decisively: "You're quite right. I can see that now. It isn't a picture of Asher standing nude in this black blot."

"Inkblot," Eve again corrected.

Lady Jane glanced up and nodded. "You're quite right. This ink splot looks like Orville, my pet ostrich."

Eve wanted to jump up and shout,
Hoist the mainsails, we've got a strong wind at long last
. She was finally getting somewhere. No mention of her patient's dratted husband.

"Yes," Jane continued firmly, as pointing at the picture. "This is Orville, my ostrich, walking in the garden with my beloved Asher."

While Eve was privately seeing her patient, Adam was busy gossiping with Mrs. Fawlty, who gave him a quick tour of the Towers. The irascible housekeeper was a font of information about his wayward wife; she had been with Eve since the opening of the asylum. Listening to Mrs. Fawlty, Adam began to get a much better handle on Eve, for the housekeeper gave descriptions of her waking life. He quickly discovered that his bustling bride worked with patients morning and night, due to the fact that at least some of her patients could counsel with her only after dark, such as vampires, night hags, and gargoyles. Most of her time was spent in work, though Eve did attend some balls, routs, and plays. But mainly she stayed at the Towers, trying to cure the cretins under her care.

After several cups of tea bettered with brandy, Mrs. Fawlty admitted that Eve could be a mite autocratic whenever she wanted her way—which happened to be most of the time. The housekeeper also confided that Eve could be testy as well, which Mrs. Fawlty believed was the result of EBS—Empty Bed Syndrome. Dr. Eve's bed was empty of all but her sweet self, you see. When Mrs. Fawlty confided this last nugget of information, the lusty housekeeper gave Adam a knowing look followed by a pert wink. Next the housekeeper added that since the master was home, the missus would probably be early to bed and later to rise. Yes—she had grinned leeringly—there would be all kinds of risings. Which in her good opinion meant that Dr. Eve would have a tendency to be singing in the mornings rather than ordering everybody about.

After this rather revealing conversation with the housekeeper, Adam next encountered a leprechaun. He watched a few moments in silence as Fester carved out a hole in the wine cellar with a pickax, and after overhearing that Fester was hiding pots of gold, Adam had searched in high spirits, rubbing his hands gleefully together as he tried to spy the treasure about which Fester kept yammering. Adam had never seen a pot of gold at the end of any rainbow, but he still believed. After all, he was part Irish. If Fester said he had pots of gold, then no doubt he did.

Adam understood that Eve would have him walking the plank if she thought he might filch a pot or two of gold from one of her patients. Still, a man did what he had to do, and he couldn't help his infamous inclination. He had found himself in the situation of having to sing for his supper too many times before.

Casting aside his doubts, he carefully inspected the cellar, looking beneath every wine rack and odd box, all the while stifling the little twinges of guilt he felt. He rationalized his snooping with the fact that Fester was a patient of Eve's, and not likely to be leaving the asylum in the near future. Therefore, the leprechaun really had no need of pots of gold. And Adam would take only one or two of them, leaving the rest for the demented Fester.

Alas, Adam came up empty-handed, not finding any pots of gold. Not even one measly doubloon. It brought him to the unhappy conclusion that Fester, like Eve, had an overactive imagination.

Adam might have been more disappointed in this quirky turn of events if he hadn't decided to converse with the leprechaun to see just how delusional Fester was. Fester turned out to be highly entertaining, and extremely knowledgeable about government conspiracies. Adam was particularly impressed with the conspiracy about the Corn Laws, which Fester believed were an attempt by Parliament to cover up the huge circles found in cornfields. The leprechaun then added vehemently that the government was keeping the common masses from discovering that elephants resided in England, where they liked to play a game much like the one called ring-around-the-rosy. Furthermore, these elephants were going to be used to march over the Alps when England invaded Switzerland for its chocolate. It seemed that England had a shortage of chocolate, Fester had ended grandly, and Parliament didn't want the common masses to panic.

Being the gentleman that he was, Adam had nodded approvingly at the appropriate spots, hiding his grin. As far as conspiracy theories went, Fester's lacked common sense but had panache. He gave the inventive leprechaun a pat on the back for effort, and even helped him fill in one of his "gold holes." Then he had advised the daft dwarf to try his hand at writing.

Having had enough of fool's gold and lunatic leprechauns, Adam went in search of his beautiful bride. He yearned to bask in her company. He found Eve walking to the main entranceway with a pleasingly plump lady with remarkable greenish-silver eyes.

"Darling, there you are!" Adam said cheerfully as he approached, taking his bristling bride's hand in his own and kissing it tenderly. He disregarded completely her frigid demeanor. "Even though I saw you only a short while ago at breakfast, I find myself missing you, my little jewel."

Noting her patient's stunned expression, Eve quickly drew back her hand. She didn't want to introduce Adam to Lady Jane, but saw little choice. She would rather her patient meet her pernicious pretend husband than have Jane think she was involved in some scandal. After all, who—even a person with a Nosferatu husband—wanted to think of her doctor embroiled in some tawdry fly-by-night affair?

"Countess, this is my… husband," Eve said, her teeth aching to gnash in vexation. She sent him a withering glance. "Dr. Adam Griffin. Adam, this is the Countess of Wolverton, Lady Jane Asher."

Adam bowed, then politely kissed Lady Jane's hand. She exclaimed, "Oh, Dr. Eve, why didn't you tell me that your husband had arrived home? How exciting for you! I would have skipped my session today if I had known. I'm sure you two lovebirds long to be together, alone, and not deal with others' troubles—today of all days."

"You are as astute as you are charming," Adam answered agreeably.

"No, I didn't mind at all," Eve stated firmly at the same time. Seeing Lady Jane's confusion, she hastily amended, "Adam loves to tease, but I fear you'll think he's impertinent. Which he is, but that's another discussion. The discussion under discussion is that I truly enjoyed our session today, and wouldn't have postponed it for anything."

Adam sighed dramatically, a smile on his handsome face. " 'Tis true, Countess. My wife would only have worried if she hadn't seen you today. Her patients' welfare means a great deal to her. That's why I fancy her as I do. Such a compassionate lady, and such a fine, dedicated doctor."

Giving him a secret evil eye, Eve said, "My husband is a doctor as well, you know, and understands the profession's demands on time. I was glad to have our session today."

"But a husband is not just anybody," Lady Jane quickly pointed out. "A husband is a great part of a wife's happiness and duties—the latter which some spouses make seem like treats and not duties at all. I think your husband may be like my husband in that respect." Her eyes twinkling, Lady Jane smiled at Adam.

He grinned. "Truer words were never spoken. What a sensitive woman you are—and what a fortunate man your husband is," he said. Then he added with a dramatic shudder, "However, since I have been away from my beloved's side for so long, I fear my dearest feels she isn't even married. I am very much beginning to believe my winsome wife has grown so independent of her doting husband that she feels she has no spouse at all."

Eve glared at him behind Lady Jane's back, while the countess smiled knowingly. "I can tell how happy you are to be reunited with your wife, the sign of a happily married man. I still wish, though, that I had known you were due back from the Continent."

"It was unexpected," Adam explained. "I do so love to surprise my devoted wife."

"You can say that again," Eve muttered. Only Adam's sharp ears caught it.

"How wonderful for you both," Lady Jane said. "Together again after such a long separation. It must seem as if every day is a brand-new world."

"Oh, happy days," Eve agreed, with only a faint hint of mockery. But espying Adam's mirth-filled expression over Lady Jane's head, she had to count to ten to suppress her desire to boot her hysterical husband out the front door.

"Since your situation has changed, Dr. Eve, you simply cannot refuse my and Asher's invitation to Vauxhall Gardens on Thursday," Jane spoke up. "I've invited you to the gardens several times, and you've refused each time because Dr. Griffin was away. Last time you told me that you couldn't come because the romance of the gardens reminded you too much of Adam and your honeymoon." Jane clapped prettily. "Now that Dr. Griffin is here, he can escort you. You can re-create your honeymoon! I won't take no for an answer."

Which she didn't, no matter how many times Eve tried. The Countess of Wolverton clearly got the results she wanted when she desired; Eve had no doubt it was due to her Van Helsing heritage. And she could also tell from the determined glint in Adam's eye—and his vociferous acceptance—that she had little choice. They were going to attend Vauxhall Gardens with the Ashers.

As Lady Jane exited the front door with a smile and it closed with a bang, Eve turned to Adam. "Sirrah, you forget yourself! How could you accept?" she snapped waspishly, her chin out and her back rigid. "Why did you say we would attend?"

"I had little choice," Adam replied with a grin. "You kept inventing excuses. Besides, Lady Jane's request was just what the doctor ordered." For him. He would get to spend more time in a romantic setting with his beautiful, belligerent bride. "We wouldn't want the world to think our marriage is in trouble before it's really begun. Remember, we're supposed to be a happily married couple."

"Oh, you are just impossible!" Eve hissed, wishing that his little dimples didn't make her feel rather shaky inside. "You brigand. You delight in putting me out of countenance!"

Staring at her, he shook his head, his eyes riveted to her lips. "I'd much rather get you out of something else. However, I have an ulterior motive. The Countess of Wolverton is quite well-known. I encourage the connection. She thinks we're united in wedded bliss, and thus so will the funding committee—if they don't think so already. They should. Your patients are joyous at our matrimonial state, as are your servants," Adam explained patiently. "It's good for your business. Now, my little admiral, tell me what Lady Jane was speaking of when she mentioned all that about gardens and our honeymoon? Was that where we held it?"