A Certain Want of Reason (16 page)

Lucia joined her at the window. It led to a courtyard where several inmates appeared to be playing a game of blind man’s buff, except that all of them seemed to be blindfolded, so they stumbled into one another a good deal. “We cannot escape this way.”

Geoffrey opened a window on the other side of the chapel. “This is perfect. Our escape is assured.”

“Splendid.” Eugenie rushed to look.

“Yes. We jump from here to that ledge—”

“What ledge? I don’t see—”

“There, under that window. Then we can climb over to—”

“Over
there
? Are you daft?”

“Eugenie, Geoffrey—look over here!” Lucia called from the altar.

“Oh, sorry, Geoffrey, I didn’t mean—”

“Up here, both of you.” Lucia put more insistence in her voice.

“You can’t stand on the altar!” Eugenie objected.

“This is hardly the time to worry about religious proprieties.” Lucia urged her forward. “Now look.”

Eugenie crossed her arms in front of her chest. “I will not climb up there.”

“Very well, I shall endeavor to describe the view.”

Geoffrey jumped up beside her.

“There, do you see?” She pointed to a small section of light-colored glass in the stained glass window above the altar.

“Right.” Geoffrey nodded agreement as he peered through the window segment. “Even more perfect. We can overpower the coachman of that cab, hurl the footman aside and—”

“Ask him to open the door. That is our carriage,” Lucia pointed out. “The Bayles carriage. Those men await our orders. Now we just have to figure out how to open this window and we should be able to climb right down onto the portico roof.”

“Stand back!” Geoffrey made ready to smash the glass with his elbow.

Lucia grabbed his arm. “No, wait. This is a chapel. We should not simply smash through the window.”

“Especially not a depiction of the Holy Mother.” Eugenie crossed herself. Then she began a slow walk around the back of the chapel, her gaze traveling up and down from the wall to the floor as if she were looking for something.

“You really are taking this role rather seriously, are you not?” Lucia asked. “Where did you learn so much about Catholics?”

“Elizabeth Wilfrid.” Eugenie kept her gaze on the wall and floor as she spoke. “Do you remember her from school?”

“Yes. I had no idea.”

“Her family kept it quiet, but she told me lots of stories. And that’s why I think I may know a way out of here.” She tapped a section of the floor with her foot.

“What are you doing?” Lucia gave up on her attempt to loosen the window and turned her full attention to Eugenie.

“There may be a secret passage to the outside.”

“Of course! Why did I not think of that before?” Geoffrey hopped down from the altar. “The papist priests often devised an avenue to escape royal prosecutors.”

“Persecutors, you may as well call them.” Eugenie looked up for a brief moment. “They took land, they took money, they took a lot of people’s heads.”

“Well,” Lucia climbed down from the altar, then glanced toward the door at the side of the chapel, “I am afraid someone will have our heads if we do not find a way out soon.”

“Redcloak’s men.” Geoffrey nodded.

As if on cue, the door swung open. “Are ye finished prayin’ yet?”

“Ave Maria,” Eugenie sang as she grabbed a censer. Waving it slowly to and fro, she turned her walk into a stately procession around the altar. “Agnes Day…Donny Nobeast Pachay. Aaahhhhmen.”

Lucia fell in step behind her and urged Geoffrey to do likewise, but he refused.

“Ave Maria,” Eugenie began again, even louder this time. “Ave Maaaaarriiiiiiaaaaa!” The door swung shut again. “Perhaps we should consider breaking the window.” She held up the censor, wrinkling her nose in distaste. “We could use this. The smell alone should do it.”

“There has to be another way. Just as you said.” Lucia started toward the back of the chapel.

“A priest’s hole?” Geoffrey asked.

“No. Those date back to the days of Elizabeth, and this building is new.” Lucia looked out the windows at the back. “We are up rather high, and your ledge would be a challenge, even without the nun garb.”

She walked back toward the altar. “You know that hairy man, the one who jumped on the superintendent’s table when we first arrived?”

Eugenie gave a little shiver. “Yes, I remember.”

“Well, he somehow made an escape from the galleries up here and entered the front of the building. He managed the feat rather frequently, from what I gathered from the superintendent’s words.” She pulled herself up onto the altar again and peered through the light-colored glass. “I wonder if there might be a way to climb down the front of the building.”

“Right.” Geoffrey scrambled up alongside her. “I’m sure there must be a ledge we can jump—”

“No, Geoffrey, we will not be jumping at this height.” Lucia clamped her lips together in a frown. “And we still have the problem of how to open the window.”

“Hmm.” Geoffrey looked around thoughtfully. “I wish we knew how they’d opened
that
window. Perhaps it’s one of the ones that has not yet been glazed. The keepers say that for the first year, almost none of the windows had—”

“What are you talking about?” Lucia grabbed his arm. “What window?”

“Up there.” Geoffrey pointed to a small window in an alcove to their left.

Lucia looked at him in disbelief for a moment before she jumped down from the altar and hurried toward the new avenue of escape. “If you knew this window was open, why did you not say so earlier? I’m sure we can find some article to stand on to reach it.”

“That bench, for example?” Geoffrey offered. “Yes, by standing on it, I was able to see out quite well. But we cannot possibly escape through that window.”

“Oh.” Lucia felt a weight plunge through her chest. “There is no place to step out, I suppose.”

“To the contrary, there’s quite an easy access to the roof. And that is precisely the problem. Redcloak’s men will be expecting us to take just such a route. They will be waiting for us.”

Lucia’s face split into a smile. “I don’t think so, Geoffrey. Not today.” She stacked a second bench on top of the one Geoffrey had used. “Now, I shall climb out and see if I can determine how that hairy man climbed down to the entrance.”

“No, no, Lucia, you must let me go.” Geoffrey pushed her aside. “This is not suitable for a woman at all.”

Lucia bit her lip. The last thing she wanted was Geoffrey’s assessment of an escape route. “Perhaps it is not seemly, but these are desperate circumstances. And remember, Redcloak’s men are looking for you. They won’t be looking for a nun.”

“True. I shall hide behind here, just in case.”

“Why don’t you hide at the end of these benches so you can help hold them steady while I climb?”

“Oh, very well.”

With the aid of a third bench, Lucia was able to climb through the small window and out onto the roof. All the galleries of one wing stretched out in front of her, but when she turned, the ground in front and back of the building seemed impossibly far below. Taking a deep breath, she focused her attention on the front and picked her way carefully down to the slanted portico roof outlining the entrance. Creeping to the end of that still left her two stories above the ground. Then she nearly laughed aloud. A line of dirty, smudged handprints pointed the way, tracing a path down the decorative brickwork like a ladder. From the end of the brick “steps,” the hairy inmate might have needed gymnastic ability to swing to the ground, but they could simply secure assistance from the coachman.

She crawled back up the portico roof and picked her way over the other decorative half-story roofing until she reached the window again. “Eugenie, Geoffrey! Come out. I’ve found the way down.”

Eugenie paled a bit when she first looked down, but was in fine spirits when she found how remarkably easy it was to traverse. She went first, called for the servants, and giggled as the footman assisted her down from the top of the coach.

“You know,” she announced after they all settled inside and she’d reminded the coachman and footman of their vow of secrecy, “that was rather fun, all in all. I should think we might consider offering our services to other families who wish to have a member removed from Bedlam.”

Lucia laughed, her sense of elation and relief making everything seem funny. They had freed Geoffrey! She had not felt such lighthearted joy since childhood.

“That is an interesting proposition.” Geoffrey pondered as he watched the hospital fade into the distance. “Do you know any families that could use such services?”

“Perhaps Lord Rutherford’s family?” Eugenie suggested.

Lucia’s laugh stuck in her throat. The thought of him in such a place left a cold ache in her heart. And then there was his mother—in no condition to arrange a removal by them or anyone else.

They’d been able to help Geoffrey but could do nothing to help Lord Rutherford, whom her brother had so grievously injured.

Her carefree sense of elation became a distant memory once more.

* * * * *

They came to Edmund’s room late that night. Henry Stansbury, the family solicitor, was accompanied by an older gentleman he did not know and two younger men who could hardly be described as “gentle”. Franklin was the last in, and he hovered close to the door as if ready to quit the room at any moment.

They carried candles, the only light in the room save for the red glow of coals banked in the fireplace. His own candles had long since burned down, and his leg injury made it impossible to retrieve others from the candle-box on the mantel. He had tried to sleep, dozing then waking to nondescript sounds in the street or in the garret above.

So it was a relief when someone finally interrupted his solitude.

“Lord Rutherford?” Stansbury looked distinctly uncomfortable addressing a client dressed in his nightshirt. “This is Mr. Groves.” He presented the older gentleman.

“How do you—” Edmund started to answer the introduction from sheer force of habit until he reminded himself why Mr. Groves had come to see him. “How did you get in here?” he roared with indignation. “My guard is under instructions to let no one in without my permission.”

“But you did give your permission, sir,” Mr. Groves answered smoothly. “In the press of business, you perhaps have forgotten. You have so many important matters on your mind.”

“You are very understanding.” Edmund nodded his imperial thanks. “But I cannot properly address you without my robes of state. Vassal!” He directed a withering gaze at Franklin. “My robes and turban, if you please.”

“S-sir, you have no turban.” The man retreated backward with mincing steps.

“Who has stolen my turban?” Edmund demanded, wishing he could stand or at least sit up fully without wincing. “Thieves are everywhere,” he complained. “Thieves and spies.”

“Yes, one never can be too careful,” Mr. Groves soothed. He held out Edmund’s dressing gown. “Here is your robe, Sire.”

“Bring it here, bring it here. I have a grievous injury, you see, and cannot easily move.” He leaned in for a conspiratorial whisper when Mr. Groves stepped over to the bed. “One of the rebels attempted to assassinate me.”

He nodded. “You know it is not safe for you to remain here. The devil might return for another attempt.”

“I’m sure the vermin has had his head separated from his body long since.” For a fleeting moment, Edmund wondered what had indeed happened to young Geoffrey. “And the attempt was made at the opera. So if I simply ban composers from the kingdom, I will be safe.” Edmund stifled a grin. Mr. Groves was so obviously laying the foundation to lure him away, which was precisely what he wanted. Nevertheless, it was fun to thwart the man just a little.

“I fear not, Sire. Danger lurks in many places.”

“Am I so hated in my own kingdom, then?”

“No, no of course not. The devils come from your rival kingdom.”

“Which one?”

Mr. Groves paused. “The one that is really ruled by a woman.”

“Ruled by a woman?” That was an interesting proposition. “A queen?”

“Not necessarily.” Mr. Groves leaned closer. “A man may sit on the seat of power, but there is a woman making every decision he orders.”

A most interesting proposition indeed. “What man would allow such usurpation?”

“By a woman? Any number. We all begin our lives under the control of a woman, after all.”

“Hmm. You speak the truth there. So which of the neighboring realms is…”

Stansbury stifled a yawn.

“You, there!” Edmund pointed at his mother’s solicitor. “No one is to yawn in my presence. Remove his head.” This last remark was addressed to Mr. Groves.

“We’ve no time for it now, I’m afraid.” Mr. Groves sighed with what appeared to be almost genuine regret. “We must make our escape now.”

“I cannot leave this bed.”

“These two men here,” Mr. Groves pointed at the two hulking, ungentlemanly men who had accompanied him, “will carry you to your conveyance.”