"You are talking rubbish." Fear gripped Mercedes' throat, her whisper cracking. "You are not going to die. You shall be just fine."
"Please, Mercy. Promise me you will do this."
Sadness shot through her heart, and she nodded, swallowing the lump in her throat. What had that man done to her once vibrant sister? "I promise."
Kat fell back on the bed in a heap. Mental withdrawal clearly engulfed her, and her blank stare riveted on the dreary wall. Mercedes' chest constricted, making it hard to breathe. She couldn't take any more of this. If she didn't leave this place soon, she'd be in a fit of tears herself. No wonder Kat was so distraught. This God-forsaken place was to blame.
As she stood, she studied her sister's sick form. Once again, anger welled within her chest. This wasn't fair. Kat hadn't deserved this fate. Mercedes vowed she'd make William Braxton pay for he had taken a once beautiful, vivacious woman and turned her into this pathetic creature. He had hurt her sister, which was unforgivable.
Mercedes picked up the lantern, turned, and knocked on the cell door. It opened, and Dr. McClain peered inside. "Is everything all right, Lady Maxwell?"
"I am ready to leave if you please."
He closed the door behind her, locked it, and then led her to the front of the building. The hall echoed with cries from other patients. She cringed, wanting to cover her ears and run far away. Instead, she remained strong, if only in appearance.
"Pardon me, sir, but is there any hope for my sister's recovery?"
His lips pursed. "I have seen many in her condition. A few have survived, but most have not. Unfortunately, many take their own lives."
She covered her mouth as a sob escaped her throat. Tears filled her eyes, and she shook her head.
"I am not saying the same fate will befall your sister," he continued. "But I believe you should prepare for the worst."
Irritation swept through her again, and she lifted a defiant chin. "I most certainly will not prepare myself for the worst, Dr. McClain. My sister does not deserve to be in this place. Lucifer himself wouldn't abide by these conditions. I want Kat moved immediately."
The older man shook his head. "That is impossible."
"Nothing is impossible, sir. My husband had connections before he died, and if I have to find one of his associates, I will. Mark my words, Dr. McClain, within a fortnight, my sister will be moved to a more stable facility."
Marching past him and into the cold night air, she wrapped her heavy cloak around her, thwarting the chill, though her blood ran hot with volcanic anger. Straight ahead, her coach waited. The only servant left in her employ climbed down from the carriage and opened the door.
"'Ow is yer sister farin', m'lady?"
"She is not well, Timothy." A tear rolled down her already damp cheek, and she wiped away the moisture. "And that...place is only making her condition worse."
"I must say, tis a dirty place." Timothy sniffed and swiped his sleeve under his nose. "Is she...like yer father?"
"No, God rest his soul. Kat is not quite as bad...yet. I shall not let it go to that extreme. If I have to knock on every door in Preston, I will find someone who can remove my sister from this place." Determination guided her quick steps as she hastened into the coach. Timothy closed the door behind her.
One way or another, she would obtain the funds needed to move her and pay the medical bills. Her own deceased husband had gambled away all of his money before he met his maker, leaving her with very little to live on. She knew firsthand how a husband could torture his wife when not pleased, and she'd make certain Mr. Braxton didn't know about this extra expense so he wouldn't punish Kat when she returned home.
Unfortunately, Kat would eventually return home to the monster she married. Too bad someone couldn't arrest that man for his devious lifestyle and free Kat. If only Frederick were still alive, investigating William would be his newest pursuit. Frederick thrived on the chase.
Rolling her eyes, Mercedes ushered the ridiculous thought from her head. She'd only been married to Lord Maxwell for a few short years, but when he died, there was no grieving on her part. No, her beast of a husband was better off six feet under than walking this earth and making her life pure agony.
Although the man was well-loved by the community—and the Prince Regent—he was not a very good husband, and Mercedes felt only happiness when he was gone.
She glanced heavenward and knew the Lord would strike her down for thinking ill of the dead. But the only good thing Fredrick had accomplished in his life was finding traitors against the Crown and turning them over to the Prince Regent. Being an agent suited Frederick well, and oft-times, his activities kept her intrigued as she eavesdropped on some of his meetings. Every so often, she had followed him to see how he went about capturing the traitors—until she accidentally discovered him sneaking off to join his mistress. That had promptly ended Mercedes' inquisitiveness.
Unfortunately, with his death, the money stopped as well. If only she could do something to earn a living. If only she could be a good agent like Lord Maxwell had been. If only...
Her thoughts skidded to a halt, and she straightened in the leather seat. Why can't I be an agent? Kat had let it slip about her traitorous husband, William Braxton, doing something illegal in regard to his business partners. If Mercedes could get enough information on the man to turn over to the Prince Regent's army, surely they'd see her value as an agent and enable her to pay for Kat's care.
A mischievous smile tugged at the corners of her mouth. She could do it. She'd spied on her husband often enough, and he'd never had an inkling of her activities. Confidence grew in her chest, and she straightened her shoulders.
There was only one problem she could foresee. It had never been in her nature to act bold and forward. Could she possibly get the information she needed and force the Prince Regent's soldiers to listen to her?
Assertiveness had always been a part of Kat's character. Now it was Mercedes' turn to be aggressive—and it frightened her nearly to death.
* * * *
Dorchester, two weeks later
Mercedes Maxwell stepped down from the stagecoach, breathing a heavy sigh. The trip had been too long and jostled her around so much the coiled hairstyle at the base of her neck fell in a disarray of curls. The constant sway of the coach made her feel like she'd been on a ship at times, especially when she closed her eyes. If not for all the dusty dryness coating her mouth, she would have thought she'd been tossed by waves instead. Thankfully it was early spring, and the summer humidity wasn't yet upon them.
"Lady Maxwell? Are ye all right?" Timothy trudged up behind her, pulling her trunk.
"Yes. I will be fine." She surveyed the busy street, pushing strands of hair out of her eyes. "So long as we can find lodging before I am jostled again."
Her servant, a man old enough to be her father, straightened and walked in front of her. "Although we've few shillin's left, I'll find a conveyance. Ye stay right 'ere with the trunk. It shouldn't take much time to locate transportation to yer brother-in-law's."
Sweeping the unruly mass of hair over her shoulder, she sat on the trunk and clutched her satchel. She must find lodging soon. Funds were low, which placed a greater urgency with her plans.
Especially now.
Tears stung her eyes as she reached into the pocket of her cloak and pulled out the letter she'd received from Dr. McClain at the asylum.
Lady Maxwell, I regret to inform you that your sister, Katherine Braxton, died after you left the hospital. She found a knife and cut herself. When I found her, she'd lost so much blood, and it was too late to save her. Accept my apologies and my deepest sympathy. I will send you the bill since your sister didn't have the funds to cover it. Respectfully, Dr. McClain.
Mercedes swiped the tears from her eyes and placed the letter back in her cloak. There hadn't been time—or money—for a proper burial. When Mercedes arrived at the hospital, the physician had already placed Katherine in the box and lowered her to the ground. All Mercedes could do was utter a prayer and lay a rose on top of the long wooden box. Not long after that, hatred had fueled her, and she couldn't wait to confront her brother-in-law. William Braxton will pay one way or another!
When she imagined meeting her brother-in-law for the first time, her heart pounded fiercely, and fear caused her palms to moisten. She hadn't yet written to him to inform him of his wife's demise or about the added expenses of the hospital and burial. But that wasn't foremost on her mind any longer.
Staying in Dorchester, Mercedes had planned to watch Mr. Braxton closely and gather as much information as she could in dealing with his traitorous actions toward his business partners. What words would convince him to treat her like family? She must figure out what she would say to him in order to get close enough to spy on him. If he were the demon Kat had accused him of being, he wasn't going to welcome Mercedes into his home with open arms.
Off to the side, a street urchin standing near the apple cart drew her attention. The young lad's gaze darted around the street suspiciously. Dirt streaked his face and tattered clothes, and his hair appeared as if he hadn't combed it—or even washed it—for weeks. When the cart owner turned his back on the boy, the lad's hand snaked out, grabbing an apple.
That little thief! She stood as he ran past. Reaching, she tried to grab the imp but only succeeded in stumbling forward. The owner of the cart swung around and faced her, his eyes widened the longer he stared.
"Oh...it's you," he accused, pointing his finger.
Panic enclosed around her heart. "No! I didn't take it. It was that little boy."
The man glanced up the street and cupped his hands around his mouth. "Constable, over here."
She shook her head, but the cart owner wouldn't listen. He continued calling for help, pushing aside patrons as he hurried toward her. He wouldn't arrest her...would he? Nevertheless, she couldn't take that chance!
I must get out of here. Panic surged through her, and energy pumped into her legs. She lifted her skirt and ran nowhere in particular, just as long as she could get away from the cart owner and the man of the law. Ahead of her stood a building with hedges planted in the back. If she could get there and hide...
She turned the corner and paused, resting against the wooden frame of the building. Deep breaths heaved from her chest that burned from lack of air. Cautiously, she peeked to see if they'd noticed her. Indeed, they had and were still running after her, calling for her to stop.
Clutching her cumbersome skirt, she scurried toward the end of the building and ducked behind the far corner. Another street opened before her, and spectators gawked at the commotion she created.
She didn't stop to rest but kept running until another alleyway loomed ahead. Looking over her shoulder, she breathed a heavy sigh that the men following were farther behind. But within seconds, more men had joined the chase.
She turned another corner and ran into a solid form. A scream tore from her throat as she grasped his arms to keep from falling. Two strong arms circled her waist. She looked up into the face of a soldier wearing a red coat, the symbol of those men serving England.
"My, my." He grinned, tightening his arms around her. "What lovely package do I have here?"
Instead of being relieved to see a soldier, she worried he would believe she stole the apple just as the others did. "Please, sir, release me at once." She squirmed, but to no avail.
"Tis all right, my dear. I shall protect you." He gave her a wink. "Have I not always been your champion?"
His words confused her, but she didn't have time for an explanation. "Please, if you would be so kind. I must get away." The shouts of pursuing men grew louder. "You do not understand. I cannot be caught. I fear they will put me in jail for a crime I did not commit."
The soldier raised a dark eyebrow. "What stories are you telling now, Mrs. Braxton?"
She gasped and stared at the man holding her. Mrs. Braxton? He thought she was her sister? But of course, he would. She and Kat were identical twins. And nobody knew Kat had died.
As she opened her mouth to deny his comment, heavy footsteps rounded the corner. Panic gripped her, and she couldn't breathe. They had come to take her away.