"That's everything?" the tall blond man asked.
"Aye, though it's little enough."
"Are you sure you're ready for this?"
Jonathan gave a short bark of laughter. "I should be asking you that."
"I agreed to help for Thomas's sake. I only wish you would spare yourself--"
"Thomas is her brother. I am--" He sighed. "I wish I could say I was nothing to her. But that isn't true either. It's bad enough when she doesn't remember me. But lately she's grown so much worse. Now most days she sounds as though I'm her worst enemy. As though she hates me."
"Now I'm sure that's not true--"
Jonathan gave an impatient wave. "It doesn't matter now. She doesn't actually know who I am any more most of the time. She hates just about all men. And better for her to loathe me than her own brother. I can't take it personally. I would go mad myself if I did."
Clifford's blue eyes rested on his friend's steel gray ones sympathetically. "I'm so sorry."
"Never mind. God works in mysterious ways--"
"I doubt there will be any wonders performed in this case, though," Clifford said with a sad shake of his head.
"Oh, I don't know," Jonathan sighed, then motioned for the third occupant of the carriage to join them. "Sophie is a little miracle, is she not? Beautiful, untainted, thank God."
"Amen to that. But still, the poor child--"
"Thomas and I will see she never wants for anything. But for now, she must go with her mother. If Jane is to have any chance of recovery, she needs to get settled properly."
"Yes, but to send the child to such a place as--"
Jonathan's jaw set. "She will be well looked after. Jane may be mad, but Sophie loves her mother. And I think Jane loves her."
He swallowed hard. "Damn it all, Jane should have waited for me. Sophie should have been--"
Dapper middle-aged Dr. Gold stepped up into the hall. "Are you sure about this?"
"No, damn it, I'm not," Jonathan snapped. "But Thomas has given the order, and I can't think of any other way."
"I meant, are you sure you want to be here," the doctor said gently. "You can wait around the corner--"
"No, John, I can't," he said, bestowing a bitter smile on the silver-haired doctor. "I need to see this through to the end."
"Very well. Let's get on." He opened his bag to remove a needle and bottle, and placed them in his brown jacket pocket. Then he handed a stiff white canvas garment to Jonathan.
Jonathan stared at it in horror, and swallowed hard. He just couldn't allow himself to be ill again. He had already vomited twice from nerves this afternoon. One more time and he would be unfit to assist at all.
A sudden howling from beyond the bolted door steeled his resolve. He straightened his back. "All right, let's go. It will be dark soon. We need to get on the road as soon as possible."
He turned the key in the lock. The portal swung open with an ominous creak. Clifford and the doctor sprang forward.
Jonathan thrust the straitjacket towards the wild woman's flailing arms.
"I hate you! I hate you! I won't let you have me! Or my daughter! I hate you!" She bolted for the door, which Jonathan had foolishly left open.
Like any other caged animal, she sought freedom, sunshine, escape...
Jonathan tumbled to the ground, flattened by the mad woman in her eagerness to flee.
"Damn it," Clifford exclaimed. "After her!"
Jonathan clutched his chest, gasping for breath, sure his heart had broken inside. The tears streaming down his cheeks unheeded, he got up and ran as though from the gates of Hell itself.
"Oh, God, Jane. Oh please, Pamela," he heard himself wheeze. "Oh God, please forgive me. Help me."
Chapter Twenty-nine
The Duke and Duchess of Ellesmere arrived promptly at the Eastons' at nine the following evening to fetch Pamela, and were most cordially welcomed.
Pamela hoped that she would be able to glean some information about Jonathan as they made small talk over a glass of sherry, but not one word of news about the vicar passed their lips, though they spoke often of the Stones.
They admired her dress, a dazzling white with a gold stomacher which cinched in her already slender figure, making her look like a goddess.
Their kindness helped to subdue the roiling nervousness in the pit of her belly. She knew she looked well, for had not everyone told her in Bath that white and gold suited her? The gown put her in mind of the gold braided gown she had worn in Bath that fateful evening when she had kissed Jonathan. The recollection brought up all sorts of associations she could have done without.