His grip is strong. "I cannot bear another minute of these things. Be my good girl, Gemma. Find the bottle. Before those dreams come back for me."
My resolve weakens. I'm no longer certain of myself as his pleadings grow more urgent, his tear-soaked voice a raw whisper. "Please. Please. Please. I can't bear it." A small bubble of spit floats on his cracked lips.
I think I shall go mad. Like Nell Hawkins's, my father's mind has been worn thin. And now those creatures have found him in his dreams. They will give him no peace because of me. This is my fault. I must remedy it. Tonight, I will go into the realms and not leave them until I have found the Temple.
But I will not let my father suffer while I do.
"Shhh, Father. I will help you," I say. Pulling up my skirts to an immodest length, I run to my room and find the box where I've hidden the bottle. I race back to my father's bedside. He's working the bed linens between his knuckles, rocking his head back and forth, writhing and sweaty.
"Father, here. Here!" I put the bottle to his lips. He drinks down the laudanum like a man parched.
"More/7 he pleads.
"Shhh, that's all there is."
"It's not enough!" he cries."Not enough!"
"Give it a moment."
"No! Go away!" he screams, and pounds his head against the headboard.
"Father, stop!" I place my hands on either side of his head to keep him from injuring himself further. "You are my good girl, Gemma," he whispers. His eyes flutter. His grip lightens. He settles into an opiate slumber. I hope I have done the right thing.
Mrs. Jones is at the door."Miss, is everything all right?"
I stumble out. "Yes," I say, barely catching my breath. "Mr. Doyle is going to rest now. I've just remembered something I must do. Would you sit with him, Mrs. Jones? I shan't be long."
"Yes, miss," she says.
It has begun to rain again. There is no carriage and so I take a cab to Bethlem Hospital. I want to tell Nell that I've seen the Temple in my vision and that it is within my grasp. And I want to ask her how I may find Miss McCleethy--Circe. If she thinks she can have her creatures torment my father, she is mistaken.
When I arrive, there is pandemonium. Mrs. Sommers scurries down the hall, wringing her hands. Her voice is high. She is in a very excited state.
"She's doing wicked things, miss. Such wicked things!"
Several of the patients have gathered in the corridor, anxious to see what is causing all the disturbance. Mrs. Sommers pulls at her hair."Wicked, wicked girl!"
"Now, Mabel," a nurse says, pinning Mrs. Sommers's arm to her side. "What's all this carrying on about? Who's doing wicked things?"
"Miss Hawkins. She's a wicked girl."
There's a terrible squawking coming from down the hall. Two of the women begin a game of imitating it. The sound, everywhere at once, pierces me.
"Merciful heavens," the nurse exclaims."What is that?"
We hurry past the squawking women, our footsteps echoing off the gleaming floors till we reach the sitting area. Nell's standing with her back to us. Cassandra's cage stands empty, the door ajar. "Miss Hawkins? What's all the ruckus . . ." The nurse goes silent as Nell turns to us, the bird cradled in her small hands. Green and red feathers trail over her palms in a waterfall of color. But the head is all wrong. It lies at an impossible angle to the fragile body. She has broken its neck.
The nurse gasps."Oh, Nell! What have you done?"
A crowd has gathered behind us, pressing in to see. Mrs. Sommers runs from person to person, whispering, "Wicked! Wicked! They said she was wicked! They did!"
"You cannot cage things," Nell Hawkins says flatly.
Horrified, the nurse can only repeat,"What have you done?"
"I've set it free." Nell seems to see me now. She gives a smile that would break the heart. "She's coming for me, Lady Hope. And then she will come for you."
Two burly men arrive with a straitjacket for Nell. They approach her gently and wrap her in it like a baby. She doesn't struggle. She doesn't seem to be aware of anything.
Only when she passes me does she scream. "They will lead you astray with false promises! Do not leave the path!"
CHAPTER FORTY
BY LATE THE FOLLOWING DAY, FELICITY'S CURIOSITY has overtaken her anger at me. She and Ann return my call. Our days in London are dwindling. Soon we must return to Spence. Tom greets Ann warmly, and she brightens. She's grown more confident these past two weeks in London, as if she believes herself worthy of happiness at last, and I worry that it will end badly.
