Page 15 of The Lady and the Lion (Victorian Outcasts #9)

thirteen

A s Samuel walked back home from the park, Vivienne’s singing and his first glass of lemonade filled his thoughts. Feeling again the glimmer of joy would be his mission. He clutched it with desperation because he didn’t want another moment of panic to overwhelm him, especially in front of Vivienne.

The wind picked up speed, and a torn piece of a poster rolled over his shoe. A drawing of his wild face appeared ripped in half. The words dangerous and reward were still legible.

He didn’t recognise the angry, wide-eyed man staring at him with his teeth bared and his only visible eye narrowed. Yet he’d been Lion Boy for years. Lion Boy was his past and part of him.

The captain stopped walking a few yards in front of him. “Is something the matter?”

Vivienne picked up the piece of paper and studied it. Her pinched expression radiated sorrow. “It’s over. This isn’t who you are. You’ve never been Lion Boy. It was a lie.” She crumpled the piece of paper and lobbed it to a corner. “You have a new beginning in front of you.”

Which was scary—in a way, scarier than a cage.

For the rest of the walk, his breathing remained normal even when a man on a bicycle raced past him or when a couple of police constables tipped their hats at Vivienne and Dobkins. Controlling his rising emotions required all his energy.

“We’re almost at the captain’s flat,” Vivienne said.

Fatigue rode him hard by the time he entered the flat, glad to be in a closed space. He was about to sit on a chair but stopped, remembering the captain had told him not to sit when standing ladies were present.

Vivienne waved him down. “Do not worry. You must be tired.”

“Yes.”

“And we must go,” Dobkins said. “We’ll come back as soon as we can.”

“Likely the day after tomorrow, but please keep practising.” Vivienne walked over to him. “I’m very proud of you. You’re a brilliant, brave man. We’ll help you get happy memories.”

He couldn’t sign any words, not even a ‘thank you.’ She held his hand between hers for a moment before releasing it, and yet he didn’t thank her.

After they left, he sat at the table and flipped through his notes on the latest mathematics lesson he’d studied to better understand measurements.

“What bothers you?” Captain Jackson took out a stick of liquorice. Since he’d decided to give up whisky, he’d replaced the liquor with the strong taste of liquorice. “I have to see a patient, but I have time if you want to talk.”

“I think I need a cage to feel safe.” He moved his fingers as little as possible as if he were whispering.

“Cages trick you. They give you enough safety to make you scared of freedom. But there’s safety in freedom as well.” The captain handed him a liquorice stick. “Opportunities and choices mean safety.”

He munched on the stick, just bitter enough to be pleasant.

They shared another stick until the captain picked up his leather bag. “I’d better go now before I start losing patients again.”

“I’m proud of you, too.”

The captain flashed a rueful grin. “It’s too early to be proud of me. I’ve just started taking care of sick people again. I’m still lost in the woods.” He donned his hat and left.

Finding the right path in the woods was more difficult than learning sign language.

Samuel sat in front of the window to watch the bustle in the street, and he wondered if Lion Boy would ever leave him alone.

Mathematics, history, geography…Vivienne had taught Samuel the basics of each subject but she knew music and poetry deserved to be talked about as well.

She selected a book of songs and another of poetry to bring to him for their afternoon meeting. Or maybe she shouldn’t mention singing since he couldn’t sing. He could learn to play an instrument if he wanted to. They surely had time to expand his cultural horizons.

She rushed down the stairs to the hallway, where Dobkins helped her don her coat, and they were about to leave the house when Mother came out of the parlour.

“Out again? You’re spending a lot of time outside.” Mother eyed Vivienne’s satchel.

“I’m going to the park with Dobkins. Would you like to come with us?” She regretted playing on Mother’s feelings.

After Adele’s death, Mother wasn’t fond of walks in the park; she also was convinced certain flowers spread diseases. Where she got that belief from, Vivienne had no idea. One of the many quacks she consulted, likely.

Mother scowled. “You shouldn’t spend so much time in the park. It’s unhealthy, especially when elm trees are flowering.”

“It’s winter.”

“I don’t care. You went to the park almost every afternoon as of late. You aren’t going out today.”

Vivienne exhaled. Her trick had backfired. “I really want to.”

“I’ll be careful, my lady,” Dobkins said. “I’ll make sure Lady Vivienne gets a hot bath with kerosene when we’re back.”

Mother narrowed her gaze. “No.”

Why hadn’t Vivienne mentioned another place? “Mother, please. I won’t catch any diseases.”

The footman remained next to the door, glancing from Mother to Vivienne.

Dobkins didn’t move.

“Go to your room.” Mother pointed upstairs. “It’s for your own good.”

“No. I want to take a walk. Please, Mark, open the door,” she said to the footman.

“Don’t open the door, Mark.” Mother straightened. “Vivienne, you’ll go upstairs.”

“Mother—”

“Don’t make me say it again. I’ve been patient with you, but enough is enough. The more time you spend outside, the greater the danger of getting sick.”

“This is ridiculous.” Vivienne gripped the satchel, shaking. It was the first time she’d argued with her mother, and it was affecting her body.

Dobkins shifted her weight, and Mark removed his hand from the knob.

Mother quivered too, her cheeks paling. “Please. I can’t lose you, too. It’s cold. If you leave the house, you’ll get sick. I’m sure of it.” Her voice rose to a high-pitched, hysterical note that didn’t bode well.

“My lady, you might want to sit down.” Dobkins took Mother’s elbow.

Mother was shaking so hard her teeth chattered. “Adele fell sick on a day like this,” she whispered, as Dobkins led her to the sitting room.

“It’s all right, my lady. Lady Vivienne will stay home.” Dobkins gave her an apologetic glance.

Vivienne sagged against the bannister. Fear of living wasn’t living at all.

“Sorry, my lady.” Mark bowed and left the hallway.

She rushed up the stairs, angry tears burning her eyes. Mother was suffering, but so was she.

Once in her room, she tossed her coat and hat on a chair and paced. Giving advice to Samuel seemed so easy, but she shouldn’t talk. She lived in a cage, too. But something pinched inside her chest. Being angry with Mother because of Adele’s death tore her heart apart.

She dropped the satchel as well. Was it wrong of her to wish for a normal life?

“My lady.” Dobkins entered the bedroom and shut the door. “Your mother sent for the physician, and Mrs. Lewis is with her now. I’m so sorry.”

“Why does she have to be scared of everything?”

“Shush, my lady, please lower your voice. Your mother is at her worst during her crises. Winter is always difficult for her.”

Vivienne wiped her tears. “I hate it here.”

“No, you don’t. This is your home and your family, and we’ll see Samuel tomorrow. We’ll think about something, a good reason to leave. Changing the day of our visit won’t make any difference.”

“Samuel is waiting for us today.”

“I’ll send him a message. It’s not a tragedy.”

She sat on the edge of the bed, shoulders stooping.

Dobkins patted her head. “I feel sorry for Her Ladyship.”

“So do I. And guilty. But I’m not sure we’re helping her. We’re making her condition worse.”

If Samuel found the courage to be free, so should she.

The next time, she would flee. No matter what Mother said.