“Hand me Tristan.”Ah.That made more sense but was still a disappointment.“At least with him in my lap I know you cannot touch me without his intervention.”
His clothes dampened more with every second he stood outside, but he couldn’t resist goading her.“Or I can hold him, leaving me able to do nothing but stare at your beautiful face.”
At her scowl, he feared he might have pushed too far.
“Discard the charm, or you and your cat can walk home.”
“My apologies.If Tristan makes you feel safer, then, by all means, take him.”
As soon as Ezekiel loosed his grip, Tristan pushed at the cover.Miss Davis was quicker than his escape.She had the basket on her lap and the cover secured before the cat could do anything more than poke a paw out.The two-person conveyance ensured Ezekiel sat next to her, but out of respect for her, he slid as far from her as he was able—which wasn’t much, even with her doing the same on her side.
“Destination?”the driver asked through the slot near their heads.
Ezekiel indicated for Miss Davis to speak, and she eyed him warily.“Central Station, please.”
“Are you hoping to have me arrested for being too charming?”He jested, but the destination did discomfort him.
“My friend is engaged to a detective there.He will see me home and allow me to preserve my address from a complete stranger.”
“Not complete.We have been formally introduced now, Miss Nora Davis.”
“Do not mistake the civility required in front of our mums to extend beyond those walls, Mr.Beaumont.If you should see me anywhere but at the asylum, you must pretend we’ve never met.”With that, Miss Davis faced the window, effectively dismissing any further conversation.
He’d give her his silence ...at least for part of the ride.But before they reached Central Station, Ezekiel would change her mind about an acquaintance with him.He just had to form a better strategy first.
Eleonora was gone again, this time with that Mr.Beaumont.Had Constanza made the right decision in permitting him to escort Eleonora and serve as her defender?It was impossible to know for sure until she returned.
Constanza tugged at the collar of her personal dress, a blessing that being a paid-patient allowed for.Otherwise she’d be in one of those horrid brown gowns that identified her as a ward of the state.She preceded Nurse Abbott up the dimly lit stairs at the back of the corridor to the fourth-floor ward where they kept her locked away and oblivious to the outside world.
Seven days.Seven days with no word about her darling girl’s safety.This was always the hardest part of her week.The waiting.She would make it through like she always did, but they would be awful days.Dreadful days.Anything could happen between now and then, and she could do nothing to stop it.Winston and Ursula could stealEleonora away again.Beat her.Torture her.Killher.And yet Eleonora and Marcellus dismissed the danger.Constanza saw the signs of their dulled vigilance.In their naivete, they thought twelve years without an attack meant Eleonora was safe.But they didn’t know Ursula and Winston like Constanza did.They were cunning, and they hunted with the patience of Job.When they kidnapped Eleonora, it had beenthirteenyears since Constanza had fled England.What was another twelve when the presence of a husband and daughter in Constanza’s life gave her enemies the power to punish her betrayal in ways killing her would never achieve?Why did no one understand?If Winston caught Eleonora again, there would be no ransom note.No keeping her alive until Constanza complied with their demands.Death would be certain, but only after a lengthy torture.
If only Constanza had fled England instead of turning herself in to make that deal with Scotland Yard.
If only she’d never joined Winston and Ursula in the first place.
But she had, and now her family would suffer.It was only a matter of time.
The all-too-familiar flutter in her chest signaled her growing panic.Not again.She had to control it.If the nurses saw it, they would decide tohelpcalm her.Last time it had taken two of the male orderlies to hold her still enough for Nurse Ingram to inject the vile stuff that crawled through her veins and stole all her warmth.Warnings had abounded.If she had another episode like that after a visit with Eleonora, there would not be another until she proved herself of reasonable mind.That feat would be impossible given it was the truth that kept her bound here.A truth she could easily prove if Dr.Chalfant would just go sniff his nose about the opera world for one minute.Then he’d know Josephine Davis was the alias and Constanza the truth.Or at least part of the truth.
“Here we are.Behave yourself, Mrs.Davis.I don’t want to hear you caused trouble again.”Nurse Abbott ushered her into what the attendants called the dayroom.
What a laughable notion.
A room named for the brightest hours should actually have daylight reach its interior.Not so with this depressing place.Oh, the “dayroom” held a window ...coated so thickly in a grimy film any light passing through became as dull and gray as the bare walls.Constanza had been in many grand houses with finely appointed dayrooms, but Longview put on airs to claim this dismal place one.The Canterbury Arms Music Hall in Lambeth, as derelict and rowdy as it was, had more elegance and appeal than this place.
Constanza entered with the regal dignity of a woman who’d made her own choice to partake of the dayroom rather than the fearful slink of a prisoner who knew she would be threatened and slapped if she did not obey.The ever-present male attendant stood in the corner of the room watching each of his half dozen inmates, ready to step in if necessary.Most wards did not have the added staff in their dayroom, only the necessary female attendants, but this ward was for volatile residents.The ones who might need to be dragged down the hall to a strong room and locked away after a thorough sedation.
Isolation was touted as a place to calm oneself and regain one’s equilibrium.What poppycock.Call it what it was—a stringent punishment for not being quiet and cooperative.She’d been there several times.Granted, each time had been the result of overwhelming panic and the need to reach Eleonora, but it was still punishment.Her head ached and chills raced along her arms at the memory of those horrific days.In that tiny room with only a chamber pot and a wooden bench for a bed, she’d endured a combination of medicines that kept her unconscious or so ill she couldn’t move.Then there were the retributive beatings from the staff she’d injured in her fight to get free and days of solitude with her food and water delivered through a slat.It had been two years since her last visit, and she never wanted to return.
The attendant in the corner pushed from the wall and angled toward her.
What had she done now?
A slap stung her face, but not from him.
Constanza blinked at the fierce scowl of Nurse Ingram.
The harsh voice finally penetrated Constanza’s thoughts.“I told you to sit down.”
