Slowly, ever so slowly, the woman brought her gaze up. Her face was smeared with dirt but it was her green eyes that confirmed her identity. It was her mother!
“Simone?” the woman asked in a weak voice. “Are you truly here?”
Simone could hardly contain herself as she grasped the iron bars. “I am, Mother. I’m here, and I am going to get you out of there.”
Mr. Radcliffe interjected, “Miss Delacourt, that is not your mother?—”
She cut him off. “Open this cell,” she commanded.
“I know you want to believe it is your mother, but?—”
Simone turned to face Mr. Radcliffe, stilling his words. “You will open this door and release my mother,” she ordered.
Mr. Radcliffe pressed his lips together. “I’m afraid I cannot do that,” he said. “There are protocols in place?—”
“If you do not give me the key, I will come and take it from you,” Simone stated, her voice holding a warning.
Looking unsure, Mr. Radcliffe said, “You wouldn’t dare.” His eyes darted towards Caleb. “Would she?”
Caleb nodded. “She would. You best do as she says.”
“But I can’t,” Mr. Radcliffe rushed out. “Besides, Jane is not Lady Hungerton. She couldn’t be. Lady Hungerton is dead.”
Simone shook her head. “No, my mother is still right there. Do you not think I would recognize my own mother?” she asked. “Give me the key.”
Mr. Radcliffe drew himself up to his full height. “I cannot do that,” he said firmly.
In a swift motion, Simone retrieved her dagger and brought it up. “This is your last warning, Mr. Radcliffe. I do not want to hurt you, but I cannot stand by and do nothing while my mother is suffering.”
Mr. Radcliffe’s eyes went wide at the sight of the dagger. “You wouldn’t dare,” he said, his voice betraying his fear.
“Give her the key,” Caleb urged.
“But the protocols—” Mr. Radcliffe started.
Speaking over him, Caleb shouted, “Forget the protocols! You are holding Lady Hungerton without just cause.”
“She is mad, and dangerous,” Mr. Radcliffe attempted. “That is why she is in this wing with the other patients.”
Simone narrowed her eyes. “Does she look dangerous to you?” she asked, pointing at her mother’s frail body. “In fact, do any of these patients look dangerous?”
Mr. Radcliffe’s eyes scanned over the patients as he replied, “They must be. Why else would they be here?” His words were spoken with uncertainty, as if he were beginning to question what he was seeing.
“The key?” Simone asked, holding out her hand.
As Mr. Radcliffe opened his mouth to no doubt object again, Caleb said, “Do the right thing here. We both know what that is.”
Mr. Radcliffe’s shoulders sagged slightly. “Fine, but you have five minutes.” He retrieved the key from his jacket pocket and approached Simone. “Understood?”
Simone glared at him. “No, Mr. Radcliffe. I do not understand,” she said. “Help me understand why you are keeping my mother prisoner here.”
“I still contend that is not your mother,” Mr. Radcliffe attempted, holding up the key. “I think you want to believe it is her.”
She reached out and retrieved the key. “Go stand by Mr. Bolingbroke and do exactly as we say.”
With a glance at the dagger, Mr. Radcliffe remarked, “There really is no need for threats. We could have discussed this civilly.”
Not bothering to respond to Mr. Radcliffe’s idiotic remark, Simone unlocked the cell door and opened it. She entered thecell and ignored the way her feet seemed to slip along the grime-coated floor.
