*
The rest of the night was hardly quiet. In the room next door to Olivia's, Hannish could hear his wife repeatedly demand to see him. He tried to go to sleep, but then she began to pound on the locked door between the two rooms and sleep became hopeless. Determined not to give in to her demands, he got up and sat in a chair instead.
His mind was flooded with an unthinkable mixture of rage for what his wife had become, and pain for the lost dreams that were now dashed against the rocks. He was certain of only one thing, a future life with Olivia would be miserable for them all. He had to keep her in a place where she could not hurt anyone, and tried to think where that could be. He considered having her committed, but from what he had heard, places for the mentally dangerous were as bad as Sassy's orphanage. Thankfully, the weeks it would take her to get back to Scotland would give him time to think the possibilities through.
At last, the pounding stopped and he heard the thud of a bottle fall to the floor. He waited for a while longer, and then went to see if Olivia managed to get into bed or was lying on the floor. Prescot looked haggard, but he was still sitting in a chair next to the door so Olivia could not get out. Quietly, Hannish opened the door and looked in. His wife was sound asleep in her bed and for a moment, he gazed upon the face he still loved in spite of himself. Just as quietly, he closed the door, dismissed Prescot and went back to his room.