Color of Darkness (Sullyard Sisters Book 2) Read online

  Stratford strode across the room right past them and headed straight for the refreshment table. Lydia clenched her hands together in her lap. Her muscles bunched as if ready to leap up from her chair and stalk her prey.

  Lydia! Stop thinking like that. You are not a wild animal. You’re a civilized young woman.

  She shook her head. Why couldn’t she get over her infatuation with a man who so obviously wanted nothing whatsoever to do with her?

  “Is something wrong?”

  Lydia blinked, shook her head to rid herself of the strange idea and looked at Patience. “I’m fine.”

  “You’re frowning.”

  “You and Kitty say I always frown.” She supposed it must be true, as often as her family pointed it out.

  “Well…” Patience’s face turned pink.

  Suddenly, the impulse to be nearer to Stratford overtook Lydia. She tapped her foot in a quick rhythm against the floor. “I’m going to get some lemonade.” She stood abruptly. “Would you like some?”

  “Yes, I’ll come with—”

  Lydia hurried away before her sister could join her. Rude? Yes, but at the moment all she could focus on was Stratford. He was speaking to an older gentleman, someone she’d never met. The two men were laughing. Lydia squeezed in between a tall potted plant situated beside the table and Stratford’s back, which was turned toward her.

  Without her consent, Lydia’s hand slowly reached out, longing to touch the fabric of his dark coat. A thrill shot through her at even that. Had she gone so far over the edge that feeling the cloth he wore on his person made her shiver?

  Yes. But try as she might, she couldn’t change the way she felt when in the same room, much less standing a few inches away.

  With a tremor to her hand, Lydia reached for a glass of refreshment. She took a sip, wanting something with which to occupy herself. Willing Stratford to turn around, she stared at the back of his head. To her amazement, he reached back with his hand and brushed at the nape of his neck as if he’d felt her staring at him.

  Was it a sign of some sort? That they had a connection? An unknown bond between them that time and distance could not break?

  She rolled her eyes. For heaven’s sake. Get control of yourself.

  If she were ever to speak her outrageous thoughts out loud to anyone, even her sisters, she’d be laughed out of town. Her usually stoic, prim composure dissolved whenever Stratford was near. As if she was a different person when he was around.

  Stratford nodded to the other gentleman and the man walked away.

  That was her opportunity. “P-pardon me.”

  He didn’t turn or acknowledge her. At all.

  She dared to lightly touch the back of his sleeve. “Excuse me.”

  He did turn then, a smile on his lips. Until he glanced down. At her. His brows lowered and the corners of his lips curved down. Who had he been expecting? “Oh. Good day.”

  She gave what she hoped was an acceptable curtsey, but with the way her legs felt like melted butter, she couldn’t be sure. “Good day.”

  Now what? Should she comment on the weather? Ask after his family or—

  With a curt nod, he pivoted and quickly left.

  Left?

  Of all the nerve. How very inconsiderate. But why was she surprised? He’d never spoken much to her at all over the last year or so she’d been of his acquaintance. The most he’d said to her was when she’d first met him and Nathaniel. Stratford had seemed interested in her. For about five minutes. He had kissed Lydia’s hand and they’d had what she’d believed at the time to be a meaningful conversation. She later discovered it was to try to make Kitty jealous.

  But it hadn’t worked. Kitty only had eyes for Nathaniel. After that, Stratford had mostly ignored Lydia.

  With a sigh, she drank more of her lemonade and made her way back to Patience.

  “Is that for me?” Her sister pointed to the glass.

  “Hmm?” Lydia blinked. “Oh. Yes.” She handed it to Patience.

  With a glance inside the glass and an accompanying frown, she said, “It’s nearly empty.”

  Oh, she must have had more than she’d realized as she’d stared at Stratford. “Is it?”

  “Didn’t you notice?

  Lydia shrugged, not wanting to admit why she’d neglected to get a drink for her sister. “I guess not.”

  “What’s come over you?”

  “Nothing.” She slumped down in the chair next to Patience and sighed.

  “You’re acting grumpier than usual.” Patience eyed the small amount of lemonade, must have decided it wasn’t worth drinking, and placed the glass on an empty chair to her right.

  “Thank you so much.” Sarcasm had always been Lydia’s first line of defense and she used it often.

  “Sorry. It’s just… Ever since we got here, you’ve seemed like you mind was elsewhere. Were you speaking to Stratford just now?”

  Lydia sat up straight, wanting to act as if things had gone well with him. How embarrassing it would be to admit he’d hardly given her notice. “Why yes. I was.”

  “What about?”

  “You’re full of questions.” Perhaps that would silence her sister and Lydia wouldn’t have to answer anything more.

  Patience let out a harrumph and Lydia did the same. What a fine time they were having.

  The shushing sound of rapidly stepping slippers on the hardwood floor snagged Lydia’s attention. She glanced up. Miss Queensbury had sidled up to Stratford. He glanced down and gave her a nod, but went back to his discussion with his father. Miss Queensbury had the audacity to place her hand on his sleeve. The gall! And now she was actually speaking to the man.

  Isn’t that exactly what you did only a few moments ago?

  No, it wasn’t the same. Not at all. The other woman appeared to be trying to gain Stratford’s attention for some reason. Lydia had only been… She huffed out a loud, frustrated breath.

  “Now what’s wrong?” Patience leaned over and bumped her shoulder lightly into Lydia’s.

  “Who’s to say there’s anything wrong? Why do you always suspect the worst of me?”

  “Um, I…” Patience blinked rapidly.

  Oh no, she’s going to cry. Her younger sister often teared up at the slightest provocation. Guilt engulfed Lydia and she placed her arm around Patience’s shoulder. “Forgive me. I’m just not pleasant company today, I’m afraid.”

  “It’s fine.” Patience shrugged. “Shall we see if there’s any cake or biscuits over there? That will brighten our day.”

  “Of course.” They stood and headed that way. Lydia tried her best not to roll her eyes. When wouldn’t cake and biscuits take the place of longing with every fiber of her body to gain the affections of the man Lydia loved?

  She couldn’t tell her sister that. Better to let her assume that eating something sweet would carry away all of life’s hurts and disappointments.

  If only Lydia was still young and naive enough to feel the same. With relief she noticed Nathaniel had arrived. Thank goodness. At least she could be sure he would talk to her and Patience.

  Chapter Two

  June, 1818 – one month later

  Stratford Bexley nodded at the footman who opened the door for him to enter the Bexley Estate. After being away on business for several days, he was ready to relax a bit. He’d barely given his hat and coat over to the servant before his cousin, Nathaniel, raced down the stairs, nearly stumbling on his lame foot when he reached the bottom.

  “What’s the rush?” Stratford grinned at his usually staid, quiet cousin.

  Nathaniel took a moment to catch his breath and then grabbed Stratford by the upper arms.

  “Say, what’s this?” He flinched at Nathaniel’s hard grip. Something was definitely amiss.

  “Listen… I need you to do me a favor.” Sweat glistened from Nathaniel’s brow. Was that from his hurried nature or whatever had upset him so?

  Stratford lifted one eyebrow. “And why would I do that?” His words had a bite to them but he was only teasing. Ever since he’d foolishly tried to gain Kitty’s affections before she had married Nathaniel, Stratford had done his best to make up for past mistakes.

  “I’m serious. This…” He took another deep breath. “The situation is dire.”

  “Dire?” He widened his eyes. “Is it Kitty? Is she—”

  Nathaniel held up his hand to stop Stratford’s words. “For now, she and the baby are stable. But, the physician feels it’s best if Patience and I don’t leave her side. She’s quite distraught at the thought that something might go wrong during labor and delivery.”

  Oh no… He’d never truly loved Kitty, but Stratford did think very highly of her and wanted only the best for his cousin’s family.

  “So, the favor I’d mentioned… I need you to deliver a message to Bedlam.”

  Stratford retreated a step. “Pardon?” He’d heard the horror stories of that place. The stench, the filth. The cruel treatment the patients often received. He had no desire to step foot in that place.

  Nathaniel must have seen Stratford’s reluctance. “Please. It’s not for me. It’s for Kitty. She’s so concerned about her sister. We’re doing everything we can through the solicitor but so far we’ve not been able to get Lydia released. Since none of us can go at the moment, Lydia needs to know how Kitty is faring. Along with that, Kitty needs to know how her sister is doing, as well. You can imagine that worrying about Lydia isn’t doing Kitty any good right now. Stress seems to be making her ill. We fear for her and the baby.”

  “What about their aunt? Or Robert? Couldn’t he—”

  Nathaniel shook his head. “Aunt Anne spends more time napping than she does talking to family. Kitty doesn’t think it wise to send her out on the errand. And Robert is still in prison. Even if he were released from Newgate, the scoundrel would refuse to visit her. When he got wind of Lydia’s plight, he said Lydia must be truly insane to have been housed in Bedlam. His own cousin.” He gave Stratford’s shoulder a brief squeeze. “Lydia is not insane. She doesn’t belong there.”

  “Of course not.” But did Stratford really know that for sure? He’d never taken the time to get to know her. Had for the most part ignored her in favor of her sister. Still, if Nathaniel believed she wasn’t truly insane, Stratford was more inclined to believe it. Nathaniel was the most practical man he knew.

  With pleading written in his eyes, Nathaniel stared steadily at him. “Please. You’re the only one. I’d send a servant but Kitty insists it must be family and no one else is about. I’m trying to do everything I can to appease her and keep her calm. We need your help.”

  Stratford let out a long breath. Much as he loathed the idea of going to that despicable hole, he would do it. For his family. “Very well.”

  Nathaniel appeared as if he was ready to cry. “Bless you.” He reached into his pocket and handed a sealed note to Stratford. “When you go, you’ll most likely have to bribe a keeper to get into see her.”

  “Must I actually go into—”

  “I’m afraid so. No one can be trusted to see that she gets the note. Normally, they allow family, but for some reason they’re being difficult in Lydia’s case. A bribe has worked so far. Here, let me give you some money.”

  Stratford held up his hand. “No. Keep it. You’ll need it when the baby comes.” He gave a slight grin, hoping to remind his cousin of something positive that would happen soon in the family.

  “Thank you. This means so much.”

  A door squeaked open from somewhere above them. “Darling?” Kitty’s panicky voice floated down from upstairs. “Where are you?”

  Nathaniel glanced in that direction and back. “It sounds as if Kitty has gotten out of bed again. The physician is already irritated with her because she left and went to Bedlam against his orders. I must return to her.”

  “Yes, of course. I’ll go deliver the letter straight away.” What have I just agreed to? It took all of Stratford’s will not to tremble at the possibility of entering that terrible hospital. But wouldn’t it go a long way toward his goal of becoming a better, more responsible man?

  Stratford watched his cousin bound clumsily back up the long staircase. With purpose in his own steps and before he could change his mind, Stratford turned, retrieved his coat and hat from the footman and ordered his carriage brought around once more. He should change horses after his trip, but it seemed time was of the essence. At least the journey wouldn’t take too long and then his horses could rest.

  As he sat in his carriage watching the scenery go by, he wondered what he would say to Lydia. What did one discuss with a person who was housed in Bedlam?

  Good day.

  Lovely weather we’re having.

  May I adjust your shackles?

  He closed his eyes and shook his head. Now is not the time for levity. To his own embarrassment, he’d not given the poor girl much thought other than the initial horror upon hearing of her plight.

  What does that say about me? Nothing good. That needed to change.

  Ever since Stratford had tried to gain Kitty’s affections in spite of the fact that he knew Nathaniel had feelings for her, Stratford had been struck by how horrid his lifestyle had been up until that point. He’d definitely earned his title of rake. After bedding more women than he cared to remember, he’d ruined them and tossed them aside. Now, the memories sickened him. When he’d seen the toll his flirtation had taken on Kitty and Nathaniel, it had done something to Stratford. Had cracked the protective armor he’d always worn to keep out his feelings of inferiority.

  His cousin wasn’t aware of the fact, but Stratford had always been intimidated by him. By Nathaniel’s superior intelligence. That was Stratford’s excuse for going the other direction and putting his full energy into being a rake. At least it’s what he told himself. He’d even avoided work in his father’s magazine office because he couldn’t stand to be near his smart, efficient cousin. Didn’t want to be compared to him.

  If anyone knew the truth of why Stratford did everything he could to avoid doing paperwork, they’d surely be shocked. Shame coursed through him at the reminder of what he was. And wasn’t.

  His thoughts scattered as the coach slowed and stopped at the entrance to the huge, ornate structure that was Bedlam. As attractive as the building and grounds were from the outside, if what he’d heard of the inside was true, the difference would be as light to darkness. Goodness to evil.

  Stratford alighted from the carriage and instructed the coachman to wait. He didn’t know how long he’d be, but had no desire to spend more time than was necessary inside the sinister place. In Stratford’s mind, the letter nearly burned in his pocket, longing to leap into Lydia’s hand so Stratford could escape as well. How he hated the thought of entering that building. He steeled himself against what was to come as he walked to the entrance.

  As soon as he stepped inside, the first thing he noticed was the smell. Correction — not smell — stench. Unwashed bodies. Excrement. Blood. Fear. With a deep longing to cover his nose with his hand, he pushed away the desire in favor of politeness and tried instead not to dwell on the fact that he might very well lose his last meal in an embarrassing manner.

  After he glanced around, however, he realized that the patients, at least a good number of them, probably wouldn’t have noticed had he done so anyway. Some moaned as they lay on the floor, while others sat with arms around their knees, rocking back and forth, mumbling or weeping. A few unfortunate souls were locked inside hideous looking contraptions which gave every appearance of being left over from the medieval age. Stratford shivered, thanking God that he was in his right mind and on the safe side of the cell bars.

  A large woman, dressed in drab grey attire with keys jingling at her waist, approached. Must be the matron. Stratford gave her Lydia’s name. The woman held out her hand, palm up, and waited. Ah… She wanted the bribe. He placed the money gingerly in her open palm, careful not to actually touch her. Anything or anyone connected to Bedlam suddenly seemed tainted.

  The woman lumbered past and motioned him to follow. Patients’ shrieks mingled with maniacal laughter when Stratford passed by. As Stratford followed the matron down one corridor, then another, he hoped that none of the people trapped inside the cells would be able to reach through the rusty bars of the small windows and touch him. He shuddered at the possibility of coming in contact with any of them. Would they be contagious with some terrible disease? Or be dangerous and wish him harm? He hunched his shoulders and kept his hands close to his sides.

  Without meaning to or even intending it, his gaze wandered to the left. A wild-haired old woman clung to the bars, her long, filthy nails scraping against the metal. To his horror, eye contact was made. The woman shrieked and Stratford jumped. But the matron he followed never even hesitated or turned her head.

  What must it be like to work there? Be so used to its sounds, sights and smells that a person didn’t even notice abhorrent behavior? He never wanted to find out.

  But what of Lydia? She was trapped in the place. Had been for weeks if his vague memory served. Had she grown used to it? Reconciled herself to the fact that she was stuck there for the unforeseeable future?

  Once he had reached Lydia, would Stratford be required to get very close to her? Walk very far into her cell? Actually place the note from her sister into her outstretched hand?

  Get a hold of yourself.

  With a sharp rap of his fist against his thigh, he scolded himself. Come, now. You’re made of stronger stuff than that.

  But was he?

  His whole life, he’d acted the part of someone he in actuality was not. A good student in school. A loyal son. A womanizer as an adult. How difficult would it be to pretend the damp, musty, noisy, smelly sensations didn’t bother him?

  Time to find out.

  The matron finally stopped in front of the last cell on the left. Considering the distance they had walked, that particular cell must have been the furthest from the entrance. She put the large metal key in the hole and turned, the squeak of protest echoing around the stone walls and floor as if the door was unaccustomed to being in operation.