Betrayed (9 page)

Strachan was staring at Clara like she was
a monster. She marched over and swung her fist, punching him hard in the face.
Strachan was knocked back, his cheek burning crimson.

The butler and footman came rushing in. “Restrain
Miss Hamilton. Take her to her room. Your mistress is quite unwell. It is
beyond our power to help her. She is a danger to herself.”

Strachan winced when Frederick lifted Clara
and hauled her bodily from the room. Clara fought her removal like a wild thing
and Strachan’s blood ran cold. Her screams could be heard carrying loud and
shrill, as she was dragged down the hall to her chambers.

“Was that really necessary?” He was shaking
like a leaf.

“What else can be done with her?” argued
Hamilton. “She is quite out of her wits, hurling lewd accusations and all but
foaming at the mouth over Branson’s lies.”

“He has influenced her to a dangerous
degree,” Strachan agreed.

“What is to be done? I feel sick about it,
but I warned her I would to take steps if she did not look sharp! She rejected
your offer, she’s alienated her father; she ran away from Windemere and accused
Branson of standing her up at the altar—one has to wonder if that was true. You
say she is no longer chaste? That it has come to this. The girl has completely
rejected our natural authority to decide what is best for her. What else can be
done? I am at my wits end!”

“If I had not seen it with my own eyes, I would
not believe Clara capable of such violence. From what I just witnessed, sir,
there was no alternative left open to you.”

COMMITTAL TO Gateshead Asylum for the Insane was a drastic
step. Strachan was not confident it was the right one if it did not benefit him.
His mind worked rapidly over the possible outcomes. After a week or two in an
insane asylum, Clara Hamilton would be desperate to get out. Strachan could
offer to arrange for her release with the understanding she would become his
mistress. She would be willing to listen to reason by then; any woman would.

“Perhaps I should call on Dr. Hargreaves and
consult with him before making any hasty decisions. What do you think,
Strachan?”

It was important that Arthur Hamilton not
have second thoughts at this critical moment. “It is clear your daughter is out
of control,” he offered tentatively. “That story she told, for instance, about
Grace Leeds. There is a risk she could repeat it at a party or a dance and someone,
not knowing her illness, might take her seriously.”

“Yes, yes, you are quite right.” Arthur
pulled on his beard. “It is such a bother at this juncture! Perhaps I should
wait. The stockholders will be meeting the day after tomorrow and if I don’t
get the money back into the accounts by then, none of this will matter. I will
be ruined.”

Strachan had no reply to make. Hamilton
could go to the devil for all he cared. It was Clara’s humiliating refusal to
be his mistress that Strachan had on his mind. He would see her incarcerated at
Gateshead as a worthy punishment. That would bring her round.

“I’ll loan you the money, Arthur. I said I
would and I’m a man of my word. You must not miss this opportunity to discredit
Branson Hamilton before the whole assembly. As the father of the wronged girl,
you have an obligation to stand up and denounce the villain. Tell them how
Clara has been defiled by him. Her mind broken, she had to be committed to an
asylum. If he dares say anything about Grace Leeds, you can retaliate with what
he has done to your innocent daughter. Branson will be lucky if anyone will
take his business after that. As for Clara, you have a legal right to protect
her from herself. Your daughter will thank you, for you will be removing her
from another scandal. Could Clara’s nerves survive another blow? I have my
doubts. I am concerned about her. Her reactions have been excessively
irrational.”

“You are right, old boy, of course you are.
Strachan, what would I do without you?”

EDGAR HAMILTON was standing behind a large piece of
statuary at the far end of the library, listening to the exchange between his
father and Captain Strachan. Upon hearing his sister screaming, Edgar had raced
down the hall to enter the library from the other door. What he heard had
stopped him in his tracks.

Though it was wrong, certainly not the
actions of a gentleman, he had eavesdropped on their private conversation.
Edgar loved his father, but he doted on his younger sister and he would move
heaven and earth to get her out of Gateshead.

He slipped out of the room, collected his
cloak, and rang for the carriage. There was only one person who could help him.

And he was the last person on earth willing
to help Clara now.

§

LOOMING OUT of the soot and fog at the end of the sweeping
drive, on first seeing the brick building with its gothic arched windows and
graceful portico, one would believe they were arriving at a fine estate house.

Clara tried to calm her nerves when she saw
the bars on the windows.

Gateshead Asylum for the Insane was built
on fifty-three acres in Crowthorne, a borough of Bracknell Forest in Berkshire.
The first patient to be sent there was a woman found guilty of infanticide and
declared too feeble-minded for prison. In fact, the poor unfortunate was
suffering from syphilis and had passed the disease to her baby who died of it. The
asylum was an imposing red brick building with a gothic entrance and towers
flanking either side. There were bars on the windows and high brick walls but
the gardens at the back were pretty. Perhaps it was not as bad as people made
it out to be, she thought.

A maniacal shriek rent the air. Clara’s
hair stood on end and she closed her eyes, taking deep breaths to settle her
nerves. She saw an orderly who had been supervising the more sedate prisoners,
run across the lawn to investigate the trouble.

The wagon clattered over the cobbles,
drawing nearer and nearer to the mayhem. “I don’t belong here,” Clara confided
in the man at her side.

“Now try to remain calm, miss.”

“I am calm, sir. Why does everyone tell me
to remain calm after doing everything in their power to upset me? Calm or
hysterical, I do not belong here.”

The wagon drew up to the curb. At the top
of a long set of stone steps, a man in a white coat was waiting. A woman stood
at his side and they both wore expressions of grave severity. The man escorting
her (he would not give his name) assisted her from the enclosed wagon by
grasping the strap on the straight jacket she’d been imprisoned in when she
left her father’s house. (They had told her not to resist and she had
disobeyed. The battle had been epic.)

Clara stumbled a little and the doctor at
the top of the stairs instructed the orderly to remove the jacket. There was a
ringing in her ears and the faces before her receded and then drew close again.
Remember the exercises Dr. Hargreaves
taught you to do. Recite the alphabet. A-B-B-C-C … what came next?

“Miss Hamilton, did you hear what I asked?”

Clara blinked. The doctor was looking at
her intently. “I’m sorry, Doctor. I—yes—I did hear you but I’m troubled that I
have been brought here.”

“Oh? And why is that?”

The doctor helped her up the stairs, one
terrifying step at a time. Clara felt like she was being suffocated.
The hands of Grace Leeds around her throat,
squeezing....

“I-I-I haven’t done anything wrong. Why am
I being punished? I haven’t done anything wrong!” Her voice rose to a
hysterical cry.

The orderly came up behind her with the
straight jacket.

“No, no, no! I don’t need that.”

“Of course you don’t, Miss Hamilton. Harry,
put that away. Miss Hamilton is not going to give us any difficulty.”

“I’m sorry, Harry. I am sorry, Doctor. I
won’t give any trouble, I promise I won’t.”

“I thought not,” the doctor said paternally.
“That’s fine. Mrs. Sutherland will take you to your room now and get you
settled. I shall speak to you soon, Miss Hamilton.”

Clara closed her mouth, instinctively
understanding she would not be released from this wretched place if she fought
back or gave an argument. Docile as a lamb, she followed Mrs. Sutherland down a
long green hall to a bare cell furnished with only a metal cot. Clara perched
on it and tried to appear delighted. Mrs. Sutherland seemed to expect it.

Almost as soon as the matron left, a shadow
fell across her lap.

The figure of a man blocking out the sun. There
was no sun in the room but Clara had to shield her eyes to see who was there.

“Hello, Clara.”

“Branson.”

She shivered involuntarily, though his name
was spoken only in her mind. She had not mentioned him since the day her father
had her committed to this place.

“How are you feeling?”

Clara blinked, puzzled. “I am well. Why are
you here?”

“I’ve come to take you home.” His voice
dropped to a whisper as his eyes scanned the orderlies patrolling the grounds
though the barred window.

Do as
you are told,
she heard a voice inside her
. Be patient. I will get you out.

§

EDGAR MET his cousin in the lounge at the Gentlemen’s Club.
Branson Hamilton took the news that his erstwhile wife had been confined to an
insane asylum with equanimity.

“That is a shame.”

Edgar lashed out, furious at the man’s
complacency. “If you have any feeling for Clara at all, you must do something!”

“What would you have me do,” Branson said
coldly. He swirled a snifter of whiskey. “She left of her own accord. She was
not a prisoner; I have no authority over your sister, Edgar.”

“So you say and so Clara says—but someone
other than my father must assume responsibility for her or my sister will be
confined to Gateshead for a very long time. It will kill her, Branson. We were
friends once. I know you are a man of integrity. Clara risked everything in
confronting my father. She has always sought his love and to make the claims
she did—to accuse him—she is in that place for your sake.”

Branson’s eyes were hooded but Edgar could
see his cousin was fighting emotion.

“She is in that place because Clara chose
to believe her father was a good man. She warned Arthur of my plan for the
shareholders’ meeting tomorrow to curry his favour, not to help me.” He took a
long swallow of the amber liquid and grimaced. “Clara refused my help once
before; she can have no help from me now. You’ve had a wasted journey, Edgar.
I’ll have nothing to do with your family again after tomorrow, and I daresay
you will want nothing to do with me.”

“My sister was brought up to be obedient
and dutiful to our father. That means nothing to you, but to a young woman, it
is central to her life. Clara could no more choose to conceal your plans from
Arthur than she could fly to the moon. She offered a compromise. She said
Arthur could ask your forgiveness and seek to make amends. That suggestion
landed her in Gateshead. Arthur asked her what he had done to you that called
for forgiveness.”

“And she told him.”

“Yes. Yes, she did.” Edgar looked away.

“What are your thoughts on the matter, old
friend?” Branson said cynically. “Did you believe your sister’s mad tale of a
girl, the summer house and a red dress floating in the lake?”

Edgar slowly met his cousin’s eyes. “I
didn’t. Not until this moment. How did you know what Clara said to my father?
How did you know about the red dress? To the best of my knowledge, that was a
vision she had as a child that led to her stutter.”

“It was not a vision. The dress belonged to
Miss Grace Leeds. The lake was the one at Windemere. It was not a nightmare, a
dream or a vision. It happened and Clara was the only witness.”

Edgar sank to a chair. “I didn’t know. I am
sorry, Bran. Oh God. Clara didn’t imagine it?”

“No. Your father assaulted my fiancée the
weekend we came up from Oxford. She was never the same after that. Grace died
at her own hand.” Branson looked away. “So you see why I have no interest in
liberating your sister. She is exactly where I want her to be.”

“To be frank, you must be extremely stupid
if you think that. If what you’ve said is true, then Clara is the only witness
to the crime. It is imperative we get her out of Gateshead. For Miss Leeds’s
sake, you must not allow her to languish there until her mind is well and truly
broken.”

“As Grace’s mind was broken!” Branson
slammed his glass down. “Clara turned her back on Grace when one word from her
might have saved her! She stood dumb and sullen, refusing to speak, to
corroborate Grace’s testimony. I asked her
myself
.
I looked her in the eye and asked: ‘Clara, did you witness the attack?’ And she
shook her head. She denied seeing anything and her denial destroyed Grace.
Arthur Hamilton accused Grace of every depravity under the sun. Clara would not
speak a word in her defence. She claims to have forgotten the incident. Blotted
it out of her mind. An unwelcome intrusion on the perfect image she had of
Arthur. Her perfect father.”

Edgar rubbed his mouth. Temper was a good
sign in Branson. It meant he was thawing. “That perfect father has had her locked
up because she has chosen you over him. She has chosen you over her liberty.
Clara confronted Arthur and told him she was the only living witness. For that
reason she has been shipped off to Gateshead and I am helpless to get her out!
She is as sane as you or I. My little sister has never been better. She is
whole at last, and she has you to thank for her restoration, Branson.”

“Stop it, Edgar. Stop plaguing me! I won’t
help Clara!”

“But you
could
!” Edgar jumped to his feet, full of hope. “I came to you
because if anyone can think of a way out of this, it is you, cousin. You could
get her out!”

Branson’s mouth twisted sardonically. “You
credit me with powers I don’t possess. Your father is Clara’s legal guardian;
it is impossible to circumvent his authority.”

“Couldn’t you say you were her husband? You
did so at the Ball, and rather convincingly.”

“The administrator will expect proof before
he will release her. And we have no way of knowing what reasons your father
gave for having her committed. They will not release her on my say-so alone if
she is considered a danger to herself.”

Edgar tore his hair in frustration “You
ought to have married her, Bran. This is down to you. Why do you resist our
friendship? We three were close once.”

“
Friendship
—is
that what you call what we had?” Branson said bitterly. “You don’t know what it
has been like for me these past seven years, living with this guilt. You
couldn’t possibly imagine. It was my fault Grace was there. I was so proud of
my superior Hamilton name and well-bred family. I led her to Windemere like a
lamb to slaughter. You don’t know what I have suffered. I can’t marry Clara.
Don’t mention it again.”