The Truth About Dukes (Rogues to Riches #5) - Grace Burrowes Page 0,116

her, was another high point. They’d met at the madhouse, as Robert and Constance had.

Robert let his thoughts drift, as they were inclined to do after a seizure, and eventually tried a sip of water. That went down easily, an encouraging sign. A sedan chair was eventually procured for the Duchess of Walden, and that good lady left the Mansion House, her duke at her side.

The time gained had been precious, but not enough.

Sir Leviticus moved to have Alexander testify out of turn, claiming that the witness had traveled some distance, and could not tarry long in York. Moreover, his wife was with him, also prepared to testify, and she was in a delicate condition. Weatherby had no credible reason for opposing the request, though he snorted and pawed about irregular proceedings and inordinate deference to certain parties.

Alexander was sworn in, and Sir Leviticus had the first opportunity to question him.

“Help us?” Alexander said, as the topic turned to the care Soames had provided for his guests. “Nothing could be farther from the truth. Dr. Soames needed to keep us alive, because we were a source of enormous income for him, but he was keen to use His Grace and me for his little experiments.”

“Explain,” Sir Leviticus said.

Weatherby popped to his feet. “I must object. What went on years ago at some obscure facility is of no moment to the instant inquiry.”

Drossman peered over his spectacles. “You were happy to characterize this place as a madhouse not thirty minutes ago, Mr. Weatherby. Let’s hear what Mr. Fulton has to say.”

Alexander went through the whole litany. The ice baths, the purges, the bleedings, the electric shocks—Robert had mercifully forgotten about those—the strange diets, and sleep deprivation. The whippings—one of Soames’s early investigations—and the isolation.

“Soames needed us alive if he was to reap his filthy profits under the guise of medical care,” Alexander said, “but animals in a menagerie are treated with more dignity than we were. I suspect he was trying to drive us insane in truth.”

Interesting theory.

“And yet, you appear before the commission today,” Sir Leviticus said, “articulate, sound of limb, and in possession of your faculties. How did you resist the lure of insanity?”

Alexander braced both hands on the front of the witness box and nodded toward the counsel table.

“Him. Rothhaven. He figured out how to thwart Soames’s worst impulses and how to make us a family rather than a collection of rejected oddities. Things changed about the time Her Grace joined the staff. She and Rothhaven formed a team, and the rest of us joined on as best we could.”

“What sort of team?”

“If Soames decided somebody had to go a week without food, the rest of us would save a bit back and find a way to share it. If Soames had somebody locked in their room as a punishment—or simply because he pleased to inflict that misery on the unfortunate party—we found ways to slip his victim books, a deck of cards, a newspaper. The diversion itself didn’t matter half so much as the notion that we cared for each other.”

“Go on.”

“We developed a code, a tapping code. If somebody was confined to quarters, they could tap on the wall at certain hours, and we’d hear them and tap back. We had signals for food, water, and so forth, and to alert each other to one of Soames’s unannounced room inspections.”

“You describe a very difficult existence, Mr. Fulton.”

“One that should have driven us mad, but did not.”

“Thanks to His Grace?”

“In large part. And then his brother came and fetched him, but Rothhaven promised us—we only knew him as Robbie then—promised us he’d see us freed, and he did.”

Sir Leviticus glanced around the room. “Was this some dramatic rescue in the dark of night?”

“Dramatic to us, but pure common sense to His Grace. Soames was entirely motivated by greed, so His Grace simply dangled a sum of money before Soames, and Soames sold up and took the bait. Just like that, we were free. Greedy people are far easier to manipulate than the principled kind.”

That salvo apparently went straight over Weatherby’s head. Robert searched the room for Neville Philpot, but he, along with Lord Stephen, was nowhere to be found.

Thank God.

“Mr. Weatherby,” Drossman asked. “Have you questions for this witness?”

“Of course not,” Weatherby replied. “This witness is the next thing to a dilatory tactic, providing no insight into the Duke of Rothhaven’s present state of mind.”

“Not quite true,” Alexander said, pleasantly. “His Grace and I are regular correspondents.