“No, Milla, don’t bother. Malcolm will not give you anything. Why do you think I have been pilfering money from him? I know he will not give you his precious money. He is wealthy, but he does not enjoy sharing.”
“If he does not share with me, I shall have him arrested for… for… something. I will think of a way.” Camilla grumbled as resentment laced her words.
“Malcolm arrested? Doubtful that will ever happen. I have suspected he is doing something illegal in regard to his business partners, but I have not been able to prove it.” Kat released adejected sigh. “Saying he will be arrested shall only give me hope for a better life. A life I know I cannot have.”
Camilla ran her hand across her twin sister’s matted hair again. Anger burned deep inside her that Kat had been reduced to this. If only Fredrick hadn’t died, she would have him investigate Malcolm Worthington. Then Kat’s life might be better. “If I cannot get the funds from your husband, I will find the money elsewhere.”
She waited for her sibling to speak, but Kat stared at the wall again. Camilla waited, wondering what her sister could be thinking, but she gazed into nothingness. Hesitantly, Camilla withdrew her touch. Soon, her twin rocked back and forth as she muttered incoherent words.
“Kat?” Camilla asked with a tight voice. When her sibling didn’t answer, tears stung Camilla’s eyes and a sob ready to come forth tightened her throat. “Kat, I’m here.” She gingerly touched her sister’s arm.
Kat jerked to a stop and swung her focus back to Camilla. “Do not worry about me, Milla. But promise me one thing?”
“Anything.” Camilla choked on a small sob.
“After I am dead, seek my husband and punish him for making me suffer this existence.” Kat lurched forward on the bed, grabbing Camilla’s wrists. Dirty fingernails cut painfully into her skin. “Make him suffer as I have suffered in my marriage these past eighteen months.”
“You are talking rubbish.” Fear gripped Camilla’s throat. “You are not going to die. You shall be just fine.”
“Please, promise me, Milla.”
Sadness shot through her heart, and she nodded, swallowing the lump in her throat. What had that man done to her once-vibrant sister? “I promise.”
Kat fell back on the bed in a heap. Mental withdrawal clearly engulfed her, and her blank stare was riveted on the drearywall. Camilla’s chest constricted, making it hard to breathe. She couldn’t take any more of this. If she didn’t leave this place soon, she would be in a fit of tears herself.
As she stood, she studied her sister’s sick form. Once again, anger welled within her chest. Kat hadn’t deserved this fate. Camilla vowed she would make Malcolm Worthington pay. He had hurt her sister, which was unforgivable.
Camilla picked up the lantern, turned, and knocked on the cell door. It opened and Dr. Smythe peered inside. “Is everything all right, Lady Hardy?”
“I am ready to leave, if you please.”
He closed the door behind her and locked it, then led her to the front of the building. The hall echoed with cries from other patients. She cringed, wanting to cover her ears and run far away. Instead, she remained strong, if only in her appearance.
“Pardon me, sir, but is there any hope for my sister’s recovery?”
His lips pursed. “I have seen many in her condition. A few have survived, but most have not. Unfortunately, many take their own lives.”
She covered her mouth as a sob escaped her throat.
“I’m not saying the same fate will befall your sister,” he continued. “But I believe you should prepare for the worst.”
Irritation swept through her again, and she lifted a defiant chin. “I most certainly will not prepare myself for the worst, Dr. Smythe. My sister does not deserve to be in this place. I want Kat moved immediately.”
The older man shook his head. “That is impossible.”
“Nothing is impossible. My husband had connections before he died, and if I have to find one of his associates, I will. Mark my words, within a fortnight, my sister will be moved to a more stable facility.”
Marching past him and into the cool night air, she wrapped her heavy cloak around her, thwarting the chill, though her blood ran hot with volcanic anger. Straight ahead, her coach waited. The only servant left in her employ climbed down from the carriage and opened the door.
“’Ow is yer sister farin’, m’lady?”
“She is not well, Timothy.” A tear rolled down her already damp cheek, and she wiped away the moisture. “And that place is only making her condition worse.”
Timothy sniffed and swiped his sleeve under his nose. “Is she like yer father?”
“No, God rest his soul. Kat is not quite as bad, yet. I shall not let it go to that extreme. If I have to, I shall contact everyone I know who might be of assistance.” Determination guided her quick steps as she hastened into the coach. Timothy closed the door behind her.
One way or another, she would obtain the funds needed to move her—and to pay the medical bills. Her own deceased husband had gambled away all of his money before he met his maker, leaving her with very little to live on. She knew firsthand how a husband could torture his wife when not pleased, and she would make certain Mr. Worthington didn’t know about this extra expense so he wouldn’t punish Kat when she returned home.
