Page 46 of Lady Gambit
“Ignorance is the curse of humanity.”
Upon hearing the harried clip of footsteps in the corridor outside, she released his hand but had one more thing to say before they were interrupted.
“Whatever happens between us, know that I will always be someone you can count on. There will always be a place beside my hearth for you.” Their lives were bound together now. “Should you ever crave company and a little chaos in your life, you can always depend on me.”
Chapter Ten
Dr Casper Collins, an ageing man with bad breath and flabby jowls, stood beside the rickety bed in his office, a poultice pressed to the raised lump on his head. “Nora Adkins is the devil incarnate.”
“Oh? Why do you say that?” Dorian recalled the woman who had pranced about in her cell spouting gibberish. Had Nora lost all grasp of reality, or was she trying to convey a covert message?
“A mere mortal cannot move that fast.” The doctor would rather blame the supernatural than his lack of foresight. “I left her lying there, blood seeping from the wound, while I went to fetch a bandage. I didn’t know she was behind me until she thumped me with the bottle.”
“Was she not strapped to the bed?” Dorian stepped past the doctor to examine the unbuckled leather straps. As always, his gaze drifted to Miss Chance, who was attempting to read a note on the doctor’s desk. “Did a guard or porter not wait in the room? Is Nora Adkins not considered a dangerous patient?”
The doctor’s cheeks reddened. “It was late. The porters were dealing with a tussle between two patients in the women’sgallery. Nora was injured. She could barely walk, let alone attack a man in a wild frenzy.”
Miss Chance silently urged him to keep the doctor talking, and then she turned the note to face her and scanned the script.
“The Superintendent said she fell. Would that be your medical opinion?”
The doctor nodded. “She hit her forehead while locked in her cell. I can think of no other explanation.”
Dorian could. An aggressive guard sought to punish Nora, and that’s why she walloped the doctor and ran. “Might a member of staff have attacked her? Someone with a key to her room?” Someone keen to silence a witness.
The man’s cheeks ballooned at the ridiculous suggestion. “Any rumours of mistreatment are baseless. Yes, we restrain some patients for their own safety, but to my knowledge, we do so with the utmost care.”
“Did Nora say anything while you were tending to her wound?” Miss Chance said, stepping away from the desk so as not to arouse suspicion.
“Just the same gibberish she has been spouting for a week.”
“What exactly did she say?”
The doctor wiggled his forehead and winced. “Forgive me. It’s hard to think with this throbbing pain. Erm … she said something about Lucifer and a red eye on a stick making people dizzy.”
“Anything else?” Miss Chance was determined to press the doctor for information. “Think. It may be important. Nora may be a danger to herself and the public. We must locate her without delay.”
The doctor pursed his lips. “She said something about finding the girl before it was too late. Then she stole my keys and locked me in this room.”
Finding the girl?
Had Nora escaped to find Caterina?
How would she know where to look?
“I’ll need to see her room,” Dorian said firmly.
The doctor obliged and accompanied them to the dank cell at the end of the long gallery. All was quiet. They passed people shuffling along the capacious corridor, looking befuddled about where to place their feet. They met the blank stares of those behind locked doors, their solemn faces pressed to the bars.
“When someone absconds, it unsettles the other patients,” the doctor explained, opening the door to Nora’s cell. “It’s like the lull before the storm. It will be hell in here tonight.”
Miss Chance put her hand to her mouth as she crossed the threshold. The pungent stench of filth and bodily odours were often worse in the height of summer. “It’s hard to believe Miss Adkins spent sixteen years in this room.” Creases formed on her brow as she scanned the small space. “Most patients are released within months.”
The place was cold, dank and dreary.
There was nothing in the room but a bed.
“We consider Miss Adkins an incurable case,” the doctor said, unperturbed by the pitiful conditions. “I believe they held her for a month at the old site in Moorfields before transferring her here.”
