Death lurked in the soul of Dr. Raithe. And it was a void that whispered to her, called to her, beckoned her close. Bony hands in the dirt reached for her. And if she were not careful, she would fall into an open chasm. And while she was certain he would catch her…her life would be one of bones.
And what was a life that knew nothing but death?
Not one worth living.
* * *
When the summonscame to join Dr. Raithe for a private dinner that evening, she was filled with both excitement and dread. The two emotions that seemed to vie for supremacy every time she found herself in his presence.
But she donned her nicest dress, did up her hair, and adorned herself appropriately for a private dinner on the upper deck of the steam liner. Everything she wore was thanks to his kindness. She was a kept woman, after all.
The fate of so many of her species greeted her in the mirror when she examined herself. But how could she complain? It was selfish to look at her lot in life and turn her nose up at it. She had heard stories of the women of the Wild West. Gunslingers and businesswomen, making their way in the world as if they were men. She could become the cardsharp Johnny accused her of being. He could be her bodyguard.
While she would likely die within an hour of starting such a life, it was appealing. It meant freedom. Real freedom. To live and die as luck and life would have it. A place where she was not the broken hobby of a brilliant doctor. Chained to him even as she was grateful for his shackles. At least the bindings he uses are invisible.
Sometimes her wrists still itched from the leather straps they had used in the asylum. She had to work to keep from absentmindedly tearing up her flesh with her nails.
But a life beneath the blazing sun and through the unknown territories of the Americas was not meant for her. It was a dream she could visit, perhaps…but never own. With one last check of her makeup, she headed to dinner.
She ignored the glances and whispers of the other patrons as best she could as she made her way to the table where Dr. Raithe was waiting for her. She was accustomed to it at this point, but she would be lying if she said it didn’t still sting a little.
He stood from the table as she approached and, taking her hand, bowed and kissed the back of her knuckles. He wore a suit and tailcoat that she was certain was exceptionally expensive. “My princess, you look stunning this evening.”
Princess. She always found his pet name for her somehow both endearing and offensive in the same breath. But as he seemed to only mean well by it, and never once belittled her in any manner or conversation, she forgave it as an eccentric term of endearment from an equally eccentric man. She smiled at him. “And you look perfect, as always.”
He pulled the chair out for her to sit and pushed it back in as she did so. While she may have woken up in an asylum with no memory of who she was or how she had come to be there, she did seem to know all her proper manners and etiquette. Dr. Raithe had once said she conducted herself at a table like a princess, and thus had begun the use of that term of endearment.
Wine was poured and dinner rolls were served. She was hungry but paced herself on all accounts. No need to make a fool of herself so early in the evening. “To what do I owe the pleasure, Dr. Raithe? I take it your research is uninteresting this evening, or am I your night’s experiment?”
He chuckled. “No, no. This is merely pleasure, not business.” His expression faded to one with just a twinge of regretful sadness. “You are not an experiment, Marguerite. We have been through this.”
“Well, I do not know why you choose to dine with me, is all. There are a dozen young women on this boat whom I think have begun to adhere to your shadow in hopes you might spare them a glance.”
Oh, goodness. Was that jealousy she felt?
No. It couldn’t be. She tamped it down quickly.
“They are vapid and uninspiring. I have no desire to waste my time with creatures who exist merely to fill the air around them with tedious and irksome gossip.” He lifted his glass of red wine and pondered it for a moment before taking a sip. “I believe I would rather leap overboard than be trapped in another conversation with some hopeless socialites wishing to climb the social ladder.”
“I do not think it is your social ladder they wish to climb.” At his momentary flicker of shock, she lifted her own wine glass and toasted him in a mock victory. “What, too scandalous for you, Doctor?”
“Hardly. Unexpected, is all.”
“Lest I be considered vapid and uninspiring, I thought it best to keep you on your toes by whatever means necessary. And as I am unlikely to match you in any manner of academic or political pursuits, scandal and deviousness are, I fear, my only options.”
He pondered her thoughtfully for a second. “You, my dear, are anything but uninspiring.”
“Careful, you may spark more rumors from our fellow passengers.”
“Oh?”
“Our dear Johnny has heard whispers that the esoteric Dr. Raithe has been keeping a patient in his care for deeply salacious intentions.”
“Hm. How droll.” He shrugged. “Rumors are just simply that, are they not?”
“I believe that is a question for you to answer, not I.”
Another flicker of something crossed over his silver eyes. Admiration, perhaps? Eyeing the chessboard between them and finding himself impressed by another unexpected move. “While a man may ask a woman to dance, it is her right to refuse him.”