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“Yes. This is my wife, Lady Clydesdale,” Robert introduced Julie.
“A pleasure, My Lord, My Lady. I am the chairman of the York Asylum, Charles Best.” He waved his hand toward the seats across from him. “Please, have a seat.”
Robert seated Julie before taking his own chair.
“I remember the correspondence from your solicitor, My Lord. As far as I understand, you are interested in discharging one Mary Weston.” He reached to his desk drawer, looked through some files, then picked one up and placed it on the table before him. “She was admitted here almost five years ago by her father, the Marquess… of Norfolk,” he stated, reading something from the file. “You realize that no one but the relatives may discharge lunatic patients?” Mr. Best addressed all his questions to Clydesdale, completely ignoring Julie.
“I am her sister,” Julie said, bending a little forward. “I have a certificate to prove the relation—”
“No offense, ma’am, but you cannot be a legal guardian to your sister, only male—”
He was interrupted, in turn, by Robert. “If you’d let her finish, my wife would have told you she can provide you a certificate to prove her relation to Mary, as well as the marriage certificate to me. I am the one petitioning to have Lady Mary discharged and take her under my guardianship.”
“I see.” Mr. Best took the documents Julie had retrieved from her small valise and set them on the desk.
“We’ve also petitioned the courts. I have the order signed by the chancellor stating that Lord Norfolk is revoking all association with his daughter, which in turn, makes it possible to petition for the guardianship without a court hearing since I am her male relative.”
Julie looked at Robert in shock and gratitude. She did not know about the legalities of such a feat; she had no solicitor, and without him, there was no way she would be able to get Mary out. She hadn’t known that Robert had already taken care of everything while he was in London. She also realized that his influence in Parliament and being an heir to a duke must have helped tremendously, especially on such brief notice.
“Everything seems to be in order.” Mr. Best looked through the documents absentmindedly. “We’ve prepared the discharge documents at the request of your solicitor,” he mumbled under his breath and shoved some papers into Robert’s face.
“I’ll have my solicitor look them over before I sign and hand them back to you,” Robert said, collecting the papers.
“You understand I cannot let the patient out of the asylum until you do.”
Julie glanced at Robert pleadingly, but he wasn’t looking at her. His gaze was concentrated upon the chairman.
“No,” he said harshly. “I do not understand. We’re here now, and we are taking her home. You know me, my estate is here in Doncaster. I will send the documents and a generous sum to repair the old walls and ceilings in your asylum once everything is read and signed. You will not make my wife travel here twice, will you?” he added in a more amiable tone.
The chairman opened his mouth to answer, but at the moment, the air was pierced by an agonizing cry. Julie jumped up from her seat, frantically looking around. Robert slowly stood and took her by the arm.
“Don’t pay that any attention, the patients here—” the chairman started but was interrupted by another gut-wrenching scream.
Julie ran to the door and yanked it open. What she saw made her blood run cold. Two burly men were dragging a small, young girl by the arms in their direction. The girl was fighting, yelping, and occasionally screaming at the top of her voice, struggling to free herself. When the trio got closer, she saw what she’d refused to believe on the spot. The girl they were dragging was Mary.
Julie was ready to faint. Her heart throbbed uncontrollably; she started to shake, her lips trembled, but her limbs wouldn’t move. Finally, anger overwhelmed every other feeling, and she ran toward her sister.
“Let go of her!” she yelled at the men and made a grab for her sister.
But as soon as the men let go of Mary, she wrenched away and stared at Julie wide-eyed. Julie couldn’t believe her own eyes. Her lovely sunshine of a sister was pale and thin, her hair was a tangled, dirty mess, her black gown was ripped in places and streaked with dirt. Her face and hands were also smudged.
Tears sprang to Julie’s eyes. “Mary,” she whispered.
“I don’t know you. Go away!” Mary yelled as she looked at her sister, fury burning in her eyes. There was no mistaking the recognition that lit up in her hurt blue eyes.
“Mary,” Julie croaked through her dry lips. “Mary, darling, I came to take you home.”
“You left me! I hate you. You left me!” Mary cried and tried to run away, but one of the orderlies caught her by the arm and yanked her so hard that she fell to her knees.
“Don’t you touch her!” Julie ran to her sister, gently grabbing her by the shoulders and looking tenderly into her eyes. “Mary, darling, I didn’t leave you! Father wouldn’t let me—”
Mary twisted away and plopped onto the cold, dirty floor.
“You might not take her away today after all,” the chairman said drolly from behind her.
Her hands curled into fists. She was prepared to do physical battle with anyone responsible for Mary’s current appearance and state of mind. She was obviously neglected, if not abused. If her outward appearance was any indication, these past five years had been horrible for her. An enormous lump kept growing in her throat, tears clogged her eyes, she was shaking with rage and helplessness.
“You better lock yourself in your room,” her husband said furiously behind her. “If this is the state all of your patients are in—”
