Page 91 of The King's Man
It went against everything he believed him to threaten a woman in this manner and he hated himself, but he hated himself more for throwing Thamsine in the path of Ambrose Morton.
Lucy swallowed. ‘You don’t know what he’ll do to me if I tell you.’
‘I couldn’t care less what he does to you! It’s the other women I care about, the ones he takes by force, uses and throws away. You know, you’re very alike, you and Morton. When you see something, you take it.’ He paused, realisation dawning on him. ‘Tell me, Lucy, why you chose me. What do I have that you want so badly?’
‘I know who you are!’ she screamed. ‘You are heir to Lord Midhurst. I could have been Lady Midhurst, if it wasn’t for that milksop of a music teacher.’
The answer shouldn’t have surprised him, but it did. It wouldn’t have been hard for her to discover his true identity. There were a few who knew his antecedents, such as Fitzjames, who was not known for his discretion when in his cups. Morton could have extracted that information without much prompting.
‘So you know who I am, or more correctly, who I will be? Well, that explains a great deal. You want a title? Did you think to snare me into marriage with you?’ He twisted her arm a little harder, making her squeal. ‘Well, I hate to disappoint you, but you’re not the sort of woman men like me marry.’
He twisted her arm a little harder.
There were tears in her voice. ‘Kit, please. You’ll break my arm.’
‘Good.’
‘She’s in Bedlam.’ The words were so faint he had to strain his ears to hear them.
‘What did you say?’ Kit slackened his grip and she broke away from him, rubbing her arm, tears running down her flushed face, distress and fear now displaced with anger.
‘She’s in Bedlam,’ she spat. ‘Where she deserves to be!’
Morton had taken her to Hell. Hell on Earth had a name and that name was Bedlam. No need to ask why. A few days in Bedlam would make the sanest person beg to marry Ambrose Morton.
His fingers closed over Lucy’s arm again. She shrank from him but he tightened his grip, forcing her to her knees, gasping from the new pain he was inflicting.
‘Let us fetch your cloak and your purse, Mistress Talbot, we’re going out.’
‘Where are we going?’
‘To Hell.’
Chapter 27
The stench of death and despair hung over the Bethlem Hospital like a pall. Kit looked up at the grim, grey walls of the building more commonly known as Bedlam and shuddered. Not even the truly mad deserved incarceration in such a place as this.
Ordering the carriage to wait, he thrust Lucy before him and hammered on the heavy oak door.
The porter who answered the door looked at them doubtfully.
‘We’ve come to see one of the inmates,’ Kit said.
‘Well, I don’t know,’ the porter said doubtfully, ‘’tis very late for visitors.’
‘Give him some money,’ Kit hissed in Lucy’s ear. Lucy complied, her fingers shaking. The porter handed Kit a lantern and unlocked the door.
‘In yer go. Good luck.’
Keeping one hand on Lucy’s arm and the other, concealed by the cloak, holding the knife pressed against her back, theyentered the dark, noisome place. The stench caused him to cough and he swallowed down the bile that rose in his throat, pressing his arm to his face. Lucy recoiled against him, her hand going to her mouth and nose. The floors were mired with human filth and the inmates lay supine and oblivious on piles of filthy straw or gibbered about, pulling at Kit’s coat and Lucy’s skirts. Lucy squealed as one touched her face.
The women’s ward was if anything could be, worse. Even as they entered, women sidled up to them, baring their breasts and spreading their legs. Kit propelled Lucy before him, scattering them in his path. Keeping his knife in Lucy’s back he took the lantern, swinging it from side to side, trying to make out Thamsine among the shapeless forms on the straw-covered floor. They were considered no better than animals but even animals had better conditions than these poor souls, he thought.
‘Who are you?’ A slatternly wardress in a soiled gown and cap appeared out of the gloom. ‘How dare you come in here upsetting the patients?’
‘I am here to retrieve one of your patients,’ Kit spat out the last word with contempt.
‘Think you can find her here, do you?’ the wardress sneered.
