Page 21 of A Lady Most Wayward (The Queen’s Deadly Damsels #5)

The Home for Wayward Women believed in horrific treatments to cure their patients, but they weren’t as strict as some of the asylums in England.

They allowed patients to write and receive letters if they showed exemplary behaviour, though they also used this as a tool to ensure obedience.

When Olivia received her first letter from Mrs Hughes, she thought it was a cruel joke.

How could she possibly know where Olivia had been sent?

Percy was adamant no one find out where he’d imprisoned her, reminding her when he left the asylum that she was completely alone.

But the informational network of the servant class was second to none.

Mrs Hughes kept in touch with several of the maids in Olivia’s house, and they had informed her of the gossip surrounding Olivia’s sudden disappearance.

No doubt one of them had seen the correspondence between Percy and the lead physician of the asylum and put the pieces together.

Mrs Hughes was the only person who wrote to Olivia in the asylum.

Her letters came once a month without fail, though Olivia wasn’t always allowed to receive them.

At times, the doctors and nurses would withhold the missives until Olivia submitted to whatever treatment they deemed necessary to cure her of the sexual depravity raging through her system.

Once, a particularly nasty orderly burned Mrs Hughes’ letter in front of Olivia before she could read it.

Punishment for refusing to voluntarily enter the ice baths.

But every time she was allowed to read the precious words from her nursemaid, she felt hope stir in her chest. Mrs Hughes made sure to fill her letters with silly details that brought tears and smiles in equal measure.

The normal beauty of life captured by ink on parchment reminded Olivia of everything she fought to regain and everything she was missing.

The bees buzzing over Mrs Hughes’ roses.

The cat who curled up on her lap when she was trying to knit.

Callum, the child of her heart, if not her body, who grew into a man as Olivia read letter after letter in her solitary cell.

Even the tragedy Mrs Hughes experienced when her husband passed from acute angina after only nine years together was a reminder to Olivia that life was always changing and nothing would last forever, neither sorrow nor joy.

Mrs Hughes’ grief at the loss of her husband, and ability to heal from that grief to a place of gratitude for the love they shared filled Olivia with longing for something more.

And on the rarest occasion, Mrs Hughes would hear word of Hyacinth.

Those letters were the hardest to read. The ink would run with Olivia’s tears.

Mrs Hughes’ correspondence reminded Olivia there was an entire world outside her four walls where the sun shone.

The rain fell. The wind blew. And people lived.

Even after experiencing tragedy. They didn’t just survive.

They savoured honey on fresh bread. Walked through frothy waves on a sandy shore.

Hummed melodies and tapped their toe to the rhythm of life.

Olivia refused to believe she wouldn’t one day rejoin the living because Mrs Hughes ended every letter with the same message of hope: Until we see each other again, I hold you in my heart.

The first letter Olivia wrote upon being released from the asylum was addressed to Mrs Hughes in her little stone cottage on the Cornish coast. And she was the only person Olivia trusted to offer sanctuary when she needed it most.

Callum crossed his arms over his chest again. ‘She is the kindest woman I know. And I won’t be exposing her to any danger. Not for you nor your daughter. So, tell me, who is this Winters? Can we trust her?’

‘We can trust her to fight for her interests. And right now, it is in her interest to get Hyacinth to safety.’

‘Why might that be?’ Callum’s hard stare dared Olivia to lie.

Because then I’ll tell her the identity of the Crow. And she will make sure to hold me accountable for my crimes.

‘I have something she needs.’ It wasn’t the full truth, but neither was it a lie.

Callum exhaled through his nose. For a man of only twenty, he carried himself with the weariness of a much older person. ‘Fine. The sooner you leave, the sooner things will return to normal. I haven’t had a moment’s peace since your daughter walked through that door.’

And as if his words conjured her from thin air, the lilting sound of Hyacinth’s laughter carried above the distant crashing waves. A door in the back of the house creaked open and slammed shut.

‘And that is why mermaids always steal a lock of their lover’s hair.

’ Hyacinth was looking at Mrs Hughes as they walked into the parlour together.

Her cheeks, already pink from the sea air, darkened to a rose when her gaze stalled on Callum.

‘Oh. I didn’t think you were…’ Her musical voice trailed off when she saw Olivia.

‘You’re back! And sooner than we expected.’ Mrs Hughes strode forward, pulling Olivia into a strong hug. ‘I’m so glad you’re safe.’

Hyacinth pressed her bee-stung lips together and crossed her arms in a defensive pose. ‘Really? I didn’t expect her for at least another ten years. Isn’t that your preferred time between visits?’

Olivia pulled free of Mrs Hughes to face her daughter, but before she could reply to Hyacinth’s cutting remark, Philippa burst through the front door with a pistol in her hand. ‘What the Devil is going on?’

Eyes going wide at the sight of a weapon, Hyacinth froze. Olivia instinctively stepped in front of Philippa to block her shot while Callum moved in front of Hyacinth.

‘Everything is fine.’ Olivia had her hands stretched out in front of her.

Because I can certainly catch the bloody bullet before it tears through my body.

Philippa’s pupils dilated. She immediately lowered the pistol, allowing Olivia’s chest to loosen a fraction.

Staring down the barrel of a gun Philippa held was no easy feat.

Clearing her throat and willing her heart to slow to a normal speed, Olivia clasped her hands together in front of her waist. ‘Philippa, allow me to introduce you to Mrs Hughes, the woman who raised me.’

Mrs Hughes looked from Philippa’s pistol now resting by her skirts to the woman herself, and Olivia tried to see her nursemaid through Philippa’s eyes.

Her hair was once a rich brown, but only a few streaks of mahogany remained amongst the various shades of silver and white.

Her eyes were brown as well, but there were striations of green, turning them hazel in the sunlight.

Wrinkles creased around the corners of her eyes and mouth, put there by endless moments of laughter and endless moments of worry.

She had always been a sturdy woman, but in her older years, she was leaning toward stout, and Olivia was glad for it.

Stout meant food was not scarce. The farm must be doing well for Mrs Hughes and Callum.

Her nursemaid’s lips twitched in an expression Olivia knew as well as the veins tracing over her hand. She was trying not to smile. ‘It would seem Olivia has found herself a protector. Finally.’

I shan’t ruin her opinion by pointing out Philippa is a predator who is hunting me, not a protector who is saving me.

Philippa raised her perfectly sculpted brow. ‘It would appear she’s always had one.’

Mrs Hughes’ cheeks became pink, and her eyes sparkled in the afternoon sunlight streaming through the parlour window. ‘How lovely of you to say. Thank you.’

Philippa merely inclined her head in a regal nod.

Taking courage from the interaction, Olivia turned to her daughter. ‘And this is Hyacinth, my daughter.’

Hyacinth looked from her mother to Philippa. ‘Why do you carry a gun? Do you know how to shoot it? Would you have shot my mother?’

Philippa blinked at the girl’s rapid-fire questions. ‘I carry a gun for protection. And one shouldn’t handle a weapon if they don’t know how to shoot it.’ She gave Olivia a meaningful look and pointedly left the last question unanswered.

Hyacinth turned back to Olivia. ‘She could have shot me. What kind of mother introduces a murderous, mad woman to her daughter? Father was right. I’m better off without you. I wish you’d stayed away. Forever.’

The words did more damage to Olivia’s soul than Philippa’s bullet would have done to her body. But she absorbed them because her daughter wasn’t wrong. She most likely would be better off without Olivia. And soon, she would get her wish. It would be the best gift she could give Hyacinth.

Philippa tucked her pistol in her pocket and shrank the space separating her from the girl. Olivia and Callum both moved to intercept her, but Philippa had Hyacinth backed up to the wall before anyone could stop her.

Hyacinth’s pink cheeks whitened to chalk as Philippa stared at her like one might stare at a bug on the dinner table. ‘Your father was right about very little. Know this: your mother has endured much to get back to you. If nothing else, she deserves your respect.’

Hyacinth swallowed. She broke eye contact with Philippa, instead staring at her feet.

Olivia grabbed Philippa’s arm and pulled her back. ‘Don’t.’ It was a harsh command.

Philippa turned, her fierce gaze capturing Olivia. A message flashed in her eyes, one Olivia couldn’t decipher but desperately wanted to understand. ‘She will not speak ill of you in my presence.’

‘She’s a child.’

Both Philippa and Hyacinth gave twin sounds of disgust.

‘I’m old enough to marry.’

‘She’s old enough to hang for her crimes.’