The Gray Chamber Page 9

  “The answer is still no. Now, I would suggest that since you were recently in contact with her, to see my doctor at once. I’ll have him over to you as soon as he is finished here, so be certain that you are at your apartments to receive him,” he instructed in a rush, obviously ready to close the gap.

  Bane surveyed Edyth’s uncle, not trusting him one bit. He could force his way inside without much effort, but thinking it might be best to heed the man for now, he gave Mr. Foster a short nod and stepped back. On the sidewalk, he craned his neck to see into Edyth’s second-floor window, desperate to catch sight of her. Her still curtains revealed nothing, and looking down the row of windows, Bane did not spy movement in any of them, which made him wonder where all the servants were.

  He returned to the waiting groomsman and took the reins. “Thank you, uh, Newton, isn’t it?”

  “Aye, that’s me, sir. Is there something else you’ll be needing?” Newton straightened his livery jacket and stood at attention.

  Bane stroked his steed’s mane. “Have you seen the servants outside the house today? I only ask because Mr. Foster answered the door. In all the years I’ve come calling, not once has he done so.”

  “That sounds strange to me as well.” The young man removed his hat and scratched the top of his wild hair. “I haven’t seen any servants milling about since yesterday evening. I think Mr. Foster gave most of them, except the cook and one maid, the evening and today off to visit family.”

  “Why not you?”

  He chuckled. “I was part of the staff he ruled as essential, so I stayed on duty while the others left.”

  Bane drummed his fingers on the leather saddle. “Did Mr. Foster offer any explanation for his sudden bout of generosity?”

  “No one dared ask. When your employer gives you unexpected time off, you don’t question him.”

  Contemplating this bit of news, Bane slipped his hand from the saddle and stepped back, all thoughts of departing ebbing as his blood pulsed with suspicion. “And what of the family? Have they received any visitors? Have you noticed anything out of the ordinary?”

  If Newton thought Bane’s questions were a bit peculiar, his expression did not betray him as he answered, “Miss Birch departed for an unexpected trip with a friend, but I don’t know her, so I can’t rightly say if it is out of the ordinary for her to be spontaneous.” He pulled at his white neckcloth, shifting in place. “I didn’t wish to mention it, lest you think me odd, but uh, I have a lot of nightmares, so don’t think me heartless when I tell you what I think I heard.”

  “Of course not. You can tell me.” He pulled a sugar cube from his riding coat pocket and fed it to his horse to keep his mind steady, wiping his gloved hand against the back of his coat.

  “Well, it was probably only my vivid dreams, but it sounded like there was some kind of commotion late last night, like a girl screaming or something. I looked out my window above the stables, but when I didn’t hear nothin’ else, I went back to sleep, not thinking much of it.” He shoved his hands into his pockets and kicked a loose pebble into the shadows of the house, the stone skittering down the cobblestone driveway. “When I mentioned it to Mr. Foster on the ride to the doctor’s this morning, he told me to quit my jabberin’ and keep it to myself, else he would fire me.” He threw a hand in the air and grunted, stepping toward Bane. “You can’t tell him I forgot that and told you, sir. I need this job. My mama always told me my gift of gab would get me into trouble.”

  “I will keep it to myself, never fear. But you said that Mr. Foster was out this morning fetching the doctor? Why didn’t he just send you in his stead?”

  “He didn’t fetch him. Just went inside for a moment and came back a lot calmer than when he first arrived.”

  If Edyth was indeed ill, why hadn’t the doctor come to the house then and there? What could they have been talking about? “How strange.”

  Newton shrugged. “I don’t question the ways of rich folk. I only do as I’m told. Their whims are foreign to me.”

  Still unsatisfied with Mr. Foster’s answer but unsure as to why he would tell an outright lie, Bane asked again, “You heard screaming? You are sure?”

  “No. As I said, I have nightmares, but I may have also seen a rough-looking fellow getting into a closed carriage before it drove off. It might have been part of my dream though, because it seems odd to have visitors at three in the morning. But then, Miss Edyth doesn’t really conform to society’s rules, so why would she bother with normal visiting hours?”

  His head spinning from the lad’s disconcerting tale, Bane balanced his hat on the saddle and dug into his pocket and produced a coin, tossing it to the groom. “You’ve been most helpful. If you wouldn’t mind, could you tie my horse in the stable?” And out of view of the house? “I may go and see if I can speak with the cook and the maid.”

  Newton pocketed the coin and, replacing his hat, tipped it to him. “Certainly, sir.”

  Waiting until the young man was out of sight, Bane took a quick gander of the place before letting himself in through the service entrance. As young Newton had promised, the kitchen only boasted one cook and a scullery maid, both of whom were far too busy to notice him slipping past and up the servants’ staircase. Climbing the winding stair, he halted at the second floor and cracked open the door, listening and watching for anyone.

  Hearing nothing, he drew a deep breath and darted down the red-carpeted hall, making for Edyth’s rooms. She had once pointed them out on his first visit during a tour of the house nearly a decade ago.

  Pausing outside the french doors, he gave a light knock, surprised when the door swung open on its own accord to the peach-colored bedroom. Bane ran his finger over the latch to confirm that the lock had been broken, finding the wood splintered. His breath shallowed as he surveyed the mess in front of him—a shattered vase, an overturned chair, her rapier lying on its side by the ash-filled fireplace, and wilted rose petals strewn on the fine Persian rug. He bent and scooped one up. Why would Edyth throw her roses on the floor? And why would no one pick them up? She hates dead flowers. Something on the rug glinted in the sunlight filtering through a crack in the thick curtains that no one had bothered to open despite the late morning hour. The object winked at him again, catching his curiosity. Crouching low, he found her stickpin. He rubbed his thumb over the ruby, his thoughts wild. She never would have dishonored his gift in such a manner. He pocketed it and perused the room anew. “Dear God in heaven, what happened here?”

  Bane spied her easel angled toward the fire as if she had been using it to see her work. Her paints were on a small table, her brushes still coated in gray paint. He scowled. It was not like Edyth to waste perfectly good brushes. He crossed the room to the painting and spied three hands reaching for one another. Odd. He made his way to her writing desk, littered with notes and crumpled paper. Scooping one up from the table, he made out a scrawl written a dozen times over. B.I. He didn’t know anyone who had those initials. Could they be a gentleman’s? Did she leave with him? He shook his head. Edyth would have told him about anyone interested in her. Perhaps B.I. was a destination, and that was why her room was in such disarray … because she was in a hurry? He hadn’t been in her rooms since her girlhood, but Edyth didn’t strike him as a lady to throw a tantrum and make a mess. Hearing voices, he darted to the left corner of the room, hiding behind the curtains.

  “Have her room cleaned up, Katie. I don’t want Lavinia to see any of this when she returns. And be certain to pack up Miss Edyth’s things in her traveling trunks. She is gone now, so it is best her room reflect that fact.”

  “Where shall I send the trunks, Mr. Foster?” came the maid Katie’s reply.

  “I will tend to that. You just see that everything of hers in this room is packed away, and notify me when you are done. My wife is determined that this room be transformed into a nursery given its ceiling fresco and picturesque view.”

  Bane tilted his chin up to find a charming scene of cherubs frame
d with opulent molding before returning his gaze to Mr. Foster. Edyth was gone, that was for certain, but where was Mr. Foster hiding her? He held himself perfectly still behind the curtain as the maid threw open the pair of curtains to the right of the bed and another near a dressing screen, mercifully leaving the windows beside the settee, where he was hiding, untouched. She cleaned up the room, humming to herself. He peered through a space in the curtain and watched while Katie swept the papers from the table into her wastebasket. He grimaced, wishing he could have saved the papers to search for clues as to where Edyth had disappeared. For now, he would start with the initials and make a list of potential names.

  “Are you almost finished?” came a shrill voice from the doorway.

  The maid dipped into a curtsy. “Yes, Mrs. Foster. I only need to clear away Miss Edyth’s paints and pack her jewels.”

  Mrs. Foster waltzed past the maid, brushing the carved mantel and wiping her fingertips together with a satisfied nod before rustling to Edyth’s vanity. She flung open a case that was so decorative that it surprised Bane. He had not taken Edyth for someone who would care for such a feminine thing. He had much to learn about her. Once he found her.

  Mrs. Foster riffled through Edyth’s jewels, removing strands of diamonds, earrings dripping in emeralds, and a ruby ring of astonishing size, none of which Bane had seen before, and dropped them into a beaded reticule retrieved from Edyth’s top drawer. “Leave the rest in my armoire in case Lavinia or I have use for them.”

  “Yes, ma’am.” Katie curtsied again, accidentally dropping her cleaning bucket.

  A kitten that apparently had been hiding in an adjoining room shot across the floor, startling Mrs. Foster and causing her to catch her toe on the easel. With a grunt of annoyance, she seized the painting, jerked open the closet door, and pitched it inside, leaving the door ajar. “Have this all thrown out into the rubbish by the end of the day. And as for that cat, I want it and all the others out in the street today.”

  After Mrs. Foster left, Katie disposed of the paints, retrieved the wastebasket and her cleaning bucket, muttering about having to mop now, and disappeared out the door, leaving it open for her impending return.

  Not daring to wait another second, Bane darted to the closet and discovered row upon row of canvases in a variety of sizes stacked up against one another, all displaying a trio of hands painted in different scenes, but all grasping toward one another and never quite touching. He ran his fingers through his hair and exhaled. “Edyth, my girl, what is all this you are keeping hidden from the world?”

  He found her leather sketchbook carelessly tossed inside, and he snatched it up, his heart hammering. Edyth would never have voluntarily left it behind. He pocketed it, unwilling to allow anyone to pick through her private musings. A soft mewing at his feet stopped him from hurrying out of the room. The cats. He grunted. He wasn’t overly fond of the creatures, but knowing Edyth would be heartbroken if her rescued kittens were returned to the streets, he knelt down.

  “You must be Michelangelo,” he whispered. Bane scooped the kitten up and put him in his jacket pocket. However, the little one did not seem to wish to be carted around so and let out a growling hiss. “Shh! Fine then. You win,” he mumbled. He pulled the kitten out and held it to his chest before racing out into the hall and down to the last guest room that Edyth said she’d turned into a sanctuary for her animals. Throwing open the door, he found two cats lounging on a settee and one perched on the windowsill, all looking rather bored with his appearance. He spied a large basket in the corner of the room and quickly set the kitten inside, then slowly approached the cats.

  The one on the windowsill darted from his grasp, while the two on the settee remained docile and even purred at his touch. With a whispered apology, he plopped the pair of cats in the basket and draped a blanket over it while he chased after the calico that Edyth had affectionately named Leo. All cats secured and his coat sleeve ripped, Bane bolted down the hall, toting a mewing, growling wicker basket.

  Chapter Nine

  Life etches itself onto our faces as we grow older, showing our violence, excesses or kindnesses.

  ~ Rembrandt

  This is a dream. A nightmare. I’ll wake up. Edyth rocked back and forth in her bed, if one could even call the dilapidated cot a bed, desperate for warmth and a drop of water for her parched throat. After a long day locked away in her cell followed by a freezing night, her body ached for a bit of comfort. Her silk stockings and satin gown did little to dampen the cold, but she was thankful for the layers of petticoats to keep her legs warm at least. She pulled away the top part of her corset in an attempt to draw a full breath, longing to be released from the tight stays. But she hadn’t dared to sleep in her chemise and drawers last night, for she didn’t know who might come barging into her room next. Someone checked on her hourly, and she did not care to risk the degradation of exposure for the sake of freeing her waist.

  The asylum had supplied her with a single scratchy blanket, but every time she pulled it up to her shoulders, her thin slippers would be exposed to the brisk night air, so her only choice was to curl up into a miserable ball in her satin gown and pray for morning and the sun to rise. But each time she managed to fall into a fitful sleep, a pair of uniformed nurses would come down the hall, their chatelaines rattling as they unlocked each door to check on their patients, the locks grinding each time. She eventually lost count of how many doors she heard open and close.

  Edyth was merely one of many patients, but the female attendants found a special way to plague her with their pointed questions each time they entered her room, curious about the newcomer. From overhearing bits of the nurses’ conversations throughout the night, Edyth gathered that most of the patients had been living there for years and that new inmates were always a welcome reprieve for the nurses. They took great enjoyment in the sport of tormenting their charges with their pinches, slapping, and shoves. Edyth rubbed at the bruises sprinkling her arm, her cheek still smarting from that devil of a nurse from the ferry. She was beginning to understand the awful truth of how unlike they were from the nurses who attended to her in the comfort of her own home on Fifth Avenue whenever she was ill.

  Edyth had not heard much about the asylum. She’d known about it, of course, but she’d only been to charity events that raised money for all the buildings on Blackwell’s Island as a whole. Before that first initial conversation with the doctors at Lavinia’s party, Edyth hadn’t paid attention to what was said beyond that the asylum was a very nice place filled with happy inmates cared for by the best of doctors while enjoying the beautiful grounds and weekly musicals. Lies. All lies besides the beauty of the island.

  At the thought of the lawns, she rose with the blanket draped over her nearly bare shoulders, teeth chattering, and peered out the window that was barred on the outside. Pressing herself to the glass, Edyth warmed herself in the broken rays of sunrise that managed to steal through her barred windows. She didn’t have a view of the sprawling green, only the roof of what she supposed was the kitchen, judging from the trays of food being brought to and from the asylum like clockwork yesterday.

  Dear Lord, why did You allow me to be captured? Why didn’t You send me aid right away? She tentatively lifted her gaze to the gathering clouds. I beg You to somehow get word to Bane that I am here, and I promise I will do better. I won’t be so arrogant with the freedom my wealth lends me. Only, please, don’t let me perish in here, not when Bane and I— She swallowed against the pain of what might have been.

  Bane. Her body ached with the thought of him waiting for her yesterday morning and wondering all day why she had not shown and why she didn’t even bother to attend class. He must be worried to distraction. She rested her head against the cold glass window-pane and sighed. Why did she have to play coy and make him wait for her answer on his musings of marriage? She groaned. Surely he doesn’t think I am running from him? The thought made her stomach turn. And if Bane didn’t look for her, who would? And if
she didn’t escape this nightmare, she would never be able to tell him—

  The keys rattled at the door and she stiffened with her blanket slipping from her grip and revealing the torn crimson sleeves hanging limply from her gown. The door swung open with a groan, and a severe-looking woman in a black gown trimmed with lace stood in her doorway. Nurse Madison stood beside her, with a satisfying dark bruise along her jawline, holding a gray piece of fabric folded into a neat square.

  “The luxury of having a cell to yourself is at an end. You are to be transferred to a different chamber that you will share, but for now, it’s time you join the others in the dining hall.” The woman in black motioned to the nurse’s bundle. “Properly clothed, of course.”

  Nurse Madison shook out the material, and Edyth’s jaw dropped at the thin dress held out to her. She brushed her fingertips on the sleeve of the dress, giving the nurse a stare that she hoped conveyed her displeasure. This had less substance than her chemise. This is properly clothed? “If you are going to insist on not heating the institution, the least you can do is provide warmer clothes and more blankets. You cannot expect people to live in these inhumane conditions.”

  Nurse Madison curtsied, holding out her skirt. “As you wish, my lady.”

  Taken aback at the nurse’s response, Edyth drew herself up and gave her a gracious nod. “Well, thank you—”

  The other lady threw back her head and emitted a cackling, guttural laugh. “The woman actually thought you were serious!”

  Nurse Madison gave her a devilish grin. “Told you she was fun, Matron. Girl, get in the gown and be grateful that you have anything more to wear than your chemise. We don’t cater to nobody, no matter who they claim to be.”

  “Claim? But surely you know who I am? My papers—”

  “Yes, your papers, which is why I am here.” The matron clasped her hands around a thin portfolio, her lips pursed. The wrinkles about her mouth revealed the action to be a habitual one. She ran a hand over her severe bun, the gray hairs in perfect placement. “Mr. Foster informed us of your obsession with your cousin, which has led to the mania you suffer from at present,” she stated.