Madness (19 page)

"I’m sorry, truly I am, for the suffering you've endured because I turned a cold shoulder to you, Simon. My only excuse is I’m young and foolish. Truth to tell, I’m not quite sure how I can manage what you’re asking me to do, though I'm doing my best. I’m starting to gather the seeds of a plan togther. It's just that, well, I’m going to need help from some of my colleagues at the clinic, and I'm concerned they might try to talk me out of it. Or worse still, that Antony will get wind of it and try to stop me.”

“Oh, you don’t know how relieved I am to hear your voice not sounding so cool and angry any longer. No, not angry, mistrustful. But I don't want you to take any risks on my—”

“I think I know a way without risking any of us, but I just need to think it through and check on a few things. So I promise, it will be soon enough once I have all my facts. In the meantime, keep scraping at the stone work."

Their fingers touched for a brief moment, and clung. It was madness, but it felt so perfect, sheer heaven...

Reluctantly, they let go, and continued scraping in silence, each lost in their own thoughts. As Gabrielle had said, she had to set the whole scheme in motion, and carry on to the end. She needed a few more pieces in place, and then she was going to have to overcome an even larger obstacle than the ones she had already admitted—that of Simon himself, and his addiction.

She had a good plan. The question was, did she dare take such a leap of faith when she literally had no idea what that end would be?

She paused for a brief moment, then looking over at her slumbering sister, set to with both the spoon and
 
now the fork as well. She worked for another two hours widening the hole, until she was able to reach both arms through. She felt the familiar jolt of electricity as he touched her hand and kissed it.

“I’m sorry I am so filthy and disreputable, but I just can’t help it. I think of that night in the bathing chamber downstairs and—”

“Never mind that now. Can you promise me to keep widening the hole, and move the bed in front to conceal it.”

“Aye, it works fine from in here. And if I pull it away from the wall I can lay down on my side and keep working.”

“All right. I want you to try to prepare yourself for Friday. I’ll get my friends to help, and we will see what we can do for you.”

"Bless you, darling. I know what a huge sacrifice this is, and an enormous risk, but I swear to you, you won't regret it."

She tried to smile at him through the whole, and nodded. "No, no regrets. We stay the course come what may."

Once she returned to the clinic, she drew Clarissa off to one side and asked if she could speak with her privately.

It didn’t take her long to outline her plan. “What do you think? Can we do it?” she asked the reformed prostitute.

She nodded. “It’ll cost you. But yes.”

“And will you help me with Lucinda?”

Clarissa gave her a long, assessing look. “This bloke really means a lot to ye, dunn’t he?”

Gabrielle nodded. “I think he does. I know Antony will say I’m mad for even thinking it, but I need to try. I really do think he’s telling me the truth. That he served in the war as, well, a spy I suppose. With his impeccable English and French, it stands to reason.”

“So why lock him away?” the older woman wondered aloud.

“He was tortured too. It’s bound to have affected his mind. Maybe he really can’t cope with the outside world. And he is strange, I have to admit. Unique.”

“How?” Clarissa asked, looking mildly alarmed.

“Well, for example, for the past three weeks, he’s never recited the same poem twice in all the time that I’ve been in Lucinda’s cell, and yet he doesn’t have a single book in his chamber. He’s reciting them all from memory.”

“Sounds a strange ‘un all right, but not dangerous. Only thing is, how are you going to get away from Dr. Herriot to help him?”

Gabrielle had worked that out as well. “I’ll say I’m going to Somerset to stay with my cousins, and will give you letters to deliver to him once each week which appear to support that story.”

“And you want me to tend to Lucinda twice a day and bring you hot water and food every day and night?”

“Yes.”

“But what if they start to wonder why you never leave the asylum?”

Gabrielle shrugged one shoulder. “Bribes of one sort or another will usually work well enough. We just need to keep Spence and his colleague busy enough for them to not care. And besides, I don't think there's a rule about visitors going in and out except at certain times. Do you have anyone you know willing to, well—”

Clarissa nodded. “Sure, for that kind of money.”

She thought for a moment, then nodded to her colleague. “Very well, we'll go through with it Friday evening, at six. Please make sure everyone is ready by then.”

“Aye, I will. So long as you are, Miss Howell.”

Gabrielle
 
chewed her lower lip. “I shall have to be. And please, Clarissa, call me Gabrielle.”

She gave her one more long, assessing look, and nodded. Then she resumed her duties with a pensive air.

Gabrielle watched her work for a time, and then pushed her heavy fall of auburn hair out of her eyes with a sigh. She prayed she would prove to be as sincere an ally as she appeared to be, and never tell Antony about her audacious plan. For if Clarissa did, there would be no telling how she would ever be able to help Simon and free him from his living hell.

At six on Friday evening, a gaggle of harlots arrived at the front gate to Bedlam as usual. Normally the gate keeper didn’t pay much mind to any of them, but there was one girl with the most remarkable red hair...

She gave a winning smile and stepped straight passed him, intent upon her night’s work, no doubt.

One of her companions, a raven-haired harlot names Angela, had the stickiest fingers in London in more ways than one. As soon as they got to the third floor corridor and the girls began to distract the guard positioned outside Simon’s door, she went to work, lifting his keys and palming them to Gabrielle, who was standing back a bit from the others, lurking in the shadows just in case he recognised her.

Spence's jaw dropped.
 
“Well, girls, to what do I owe—”

“Bloke here’s come into some money from a relative. He gets treated, you get treated. Come here, handsome,” Angela rasped, pulling her to him. “Let’s find a quiet corner somewhere, eh?”

One of the other women took his left arm and led him down the corridor to a shadowy alcove they often used for their assignations.

As soon as he was gone, Clarissa dropped all the supplies she had concealed in her voluminous skirts and the small valise she was carrying with her, and helped Gabrielle get the door open and the things inside.

“The others will be along in a minute,” she reassured Gabrielle.

Simon, lying on his bed in his usual state of torpor, leapt up at the intrusion of the floozies. He didn’t recognise Gabrielle at first, but merely gaped at the most magnificent pair of breasts he had ever seen swell a bodice.

“Excuse me, ladies, but can I help you?” he said at last, causing her to smile. He might as well have been in a
Ton
drawing room.

“We’re here to help you,
mon ami
.”

Gabrielle smiled at him, and he sat back down on the bed with a gasp.

The other two helpers whom Clarissa had let in on the plan had dropped the rest of the supplies in the corridor before accosting Spence, so they hurried down the hall and dragged them in as well.

Clarissa paused in her work long enough to stare at Simon for a moment, then nodded to Gabrielle. “Tomorrow morning at six.”

She knew her friend was giving her her blessing and approval of the perilous course she was about to undertake. “Thank you,” she said earnestly.

“Good luck. You're going to need it.”

Gabrielle pressed the keys into her hands, and with a final affectionate pat, Clarissa shut the door behind her and locked her friend in.

Simon, still dazed at the intrusion of the women, finally found his tongue.

“I don’t understand,
cherie
. What are you doing here? What are all these things?” he asked, staring at the linens, simple homespun clothes from the clinic, and the bounty of fresh fruit and cooked food she had brought, which smelled good enough to make his mouth water even more than it was already just looking at her loveliness.

“I’m going to help you with your addiction.”

“We lied and said you had come into some money. They think I’m a trollop and your guard is even now benefitting from your good fortune.”

His eyes rounded. “You mean—”

She nodded. “It’s the only way to keep the guards busy while we get you well. Apparently Angela can keep a bloke going for hours. I must just ask—”

“No you won’t!” Simon said primly, his lush lips thinning to a line. “The very idea of you asking a—”

She giggled. “You look like a maiden aunt of mine with that expression. And you lived in a brothel, remember. Don’t be such a hypocrite.”

“I simply meant I don’t want you to prostitute yourself for my sake.”

“I didn’t mean I would do it to the guard, I meant
you
, silly.” She blushed.

"
Me
?” he squeaked.

“Well, I don’t know about you, my dear Simon, but I’ve had a difficult time thinking of anything other than our interesting night in the bathroom," she admitted boldly.
 
"I mean, I’m curious, naturally. I have a lot of gaps in my education. I might as well try to fill them in. You were indeed most instructive on a number of points—”

“I’m sure,” he said huskily, his golden eyes glowing like a living flame. He pressed his hands together to stop himself from diving into the top of her gown. “But this is lunacy. Why are you here like this?”

“I’ve told you, I have every intention of helping you, Simon. I’m sorry about my doubts in the past weeks, and how much they've hur you. Hurt us both," she added with a wan smile. "But you can look in my eyes now, and see that I’m serious, and not mistrustful or repelled by you.” She gripped his hand briefly, then drew away shyly.

And in truth, there would be plenty of time for more intimate things anon. For the moment, she had work to do.