The Solemn Bell(14)

“Then can’t you go to hospital and get more?”

He almost smiled. “There are easier ways to get morphine than going to hospital.” When Miss Grey looked confused, he added, “Unscrupulous doctors, chemists with a sideline, back alley dealers, and dens in Chinatowns all over Britain. In fact, one can get it almost anywhere, at any time.”

“That sounds terrible.”

“Oh, it is—terrible and wonderful, all at once.”

She wrapped her arms around herself, shuddering. “I wish I’d never heard of it.”

“Then I’m sorry to be the one to teach you. But I thought you ought to know the sort of man you’re dealing with.”

He couldn’t lie to her anymore. She’d been so honest and open about her blindness that he felt like a cad hiding his sickness from her now. He wanted Miss Grey to know the real Captain Broderick Neill, so that no one could ever accuse him of misleading her. If they were going to be friends—or more than friends, or nothing to each other at all—she would go into it knowing everything.

“I’ve never met anyone like you before, Miss Grey. Talking with you tonight has made me believe that perhaps I’m not a slave to my demons after all. Despite my car crash, and my morphine withdrawal, I’ve enjoyed sitting here with you in the dark more than I’ve enjoyed any moment of my life. Does that make sense?”

She nodded. “I understand completely.”

Brody reached for her hands. “Don’t you feel the same?”

“I—yes, of course. I think so.”

He’d never before felt a thrill from holding a girl’s hand. Feeling Miss Grey’s ghostly, white fingers between his own large, calloused palms was like a prize he’d worked very hard to earn. He wasn’t a chaste man, but tonight he felt like a schoolboy walking out with his first sweetheart.

There was something different about this woman. She made him want to be a better man.





CHAPTER ELEVEN

For a while, she forgot Captain Neill was sick and injured. Strange how something so obvious to her when they first met was slowly becoming no longer noticeable. He had been sick a few more times, and even complained again about the demons in the corners, but he no longer hung on the brink of death. He was able to talk and laugh, and even flirt with her.

In fact, he spoke to her as if she were any other girl. For one night, he was simply a man, and she was simply a woman, and their world was blessedly normal.

Outside, however, the storm continued to rage. Lightning flashed, and thunder clapped. Sometimes, she jumped. Sometimes, he jumped. But, now they were able to laugh it off. It wasn’t so bad to be afraid, as long as they had each other to keep them safe. If the house caught fire, she knew Captain Neill would not leave her in the flames.

Angelica wished it would always be so.

Soon, daylight would come. The shadows would be driven out, and he, like them, would flee this place. Everyone always did. For who would condemn themselves to a world of everlasting darkness, when there was brilliant sunlight just outside these walls?

She clutched her ancient, woolen cardigan tighter, feeling a chill. Once—just once—she wished for warmth, for light.

Angelica didn’t resent Freddie or Mother for leaving her, and would not hate Captain Neill when the time came for him to go, too. Oh, he might imagine himself infatuated with her, and she might even believe him for a time—she wanted so badly for it to be true—but men like Captain Neill did not chain themselves to girls like her. And, she supposed, any sweet, innocent girl should know better than set her heart on such a wreck of a man. Their parting might pain her, but it was for the best.

Angelica shivered as she sat, listening to the incessant ticking of the clock. Counting down every loathsome second, helpless to shut it out of her mind. But, as she sat there, wishing her ears would fail her too, another sound began to creep through.

Footsteps.

They were not Captain Neill’s. And, yet…who else’s could the be?

He heard them, as well. “My God! You can’t tell me there’s not someone else here!” Captain Neill leapt to his feet, and stormed across the room. He stopped by the open doorway, to—she presumed—peer out into the hallway beyond.

Angelica followed the sound of his voice. She turned in his direction. “There is no one.”

“Miss Grey! Who is upstairs?”

This time, Angelica stood, too, though the did not go to him. “This is madness. The storm is playing tricks on our ears. It’s…oh, I don’t know…tree limbs scratching the walls. Or…or, rain beating down through the attics. Whatever it is, it isn’t another person marching around upstairs.”

“You said ‘our ears’. Our ears! This is no product of my morphine-addled mind. You hear it, too, and your mind—clear as a bell—is telling you it can be nothing but another person marching around upstairs.”

“No. My mind is telling me that, before you arrived, I had nothing to fear inside my own home. The threat was always outside. The world. The war. The asylum. But now, now I’m terrified of something in here!” She grabbed at the back of the chair for support. The sound was there, pounding like a hammer overhead. She could not shut it out any more than she could convince herself it was nothing but the rain. “What evil have you brought into my home?”