The Madman's Daughter (The Madman's Daughter 1)

“You’re stuck with us for some time, Prince,” Father continued. “It’s a rare thing indeed when a ship passes our way. A year or more.”

The rabbit twitched its nose ceaselessly. The dim-witted little animal didn’t even know it had come all the way from England to end up with a scalpel through its belly. My finger rested on the latch—all I would have to do was squeeze my finger to free the rabbit.

As if he could sense my thoughts, Edward placed his hand over mine and shook his head.

The path grew gradually wider. We rode for an hour, maybe longer. The sun was sinking low behind darkening thunderclouds, throwing shadows among the trees. I was usually a good judge of passing time, but my mind had wound down like a clock. Thunder rumbled overhead. Odd sounds whispered through the trees, though I told myself it must be the trills of unfamiliar insects. At last, Edward pointed ahead.

A stone compound loomed in a clearing. The terracotta-tiled buildings were all arranged within a circular wall gated by two heavy wooden doors. The single bastion of civilization on an untamed island.

“This used to be a Spanish fort,” Father said over his shoulder. “It was in ruins when I found it. The missionaries slept in it like dogs. And they called themselves civilized.” He snorted.

“Missionaries?” I asked.

“Anglicans, come to proselytize,” he mumbled, but his attention was on the compound. From within came a steady hammering and the smell of woodsmoke. Despite the tremble in my hands, I told myself this was not a place to be feared. Montgomery lived here, and so did my father. There was nothing within those walls that would hurt me. In fact, the danger was outside, in the jungle, where Montgomery had to carry a pistol.

So why was I so nervous?

Ten yards from the compound, Montgomery stopped the horse. A door slammed from within, making me jump, and a boy appeared, running in a strange skipping manner toward us. He took hold of the horse’s bridle while Montgomery climbed down and ruffled the boy’s hair. I couldn’t help but stare. The child’s jaw protruded at an odd angle below a nearly nonexistent nose. A dark, fine hair covered his bare arms. A shiver ran over my skin. It was as if my father had stumbled upon some collection of natives whom the theory of evolution—were Mr. Darwin to be believed—had skipped by.

Another face peered out from a side door I hadn’t noticed. I caught only a glimpse of a bald head and a flash of white shirt. Father climbed down from the wagon as nimbly as an insect, and went over to speak to the man.

Montgomery opened the back of the wagon. The silver butt of the pistol in his belt reflected the dark roiling of the sky. I stumbled as I tried to climb down. Montgomery’s hands caught me around the waist and lingered, stealing my breath.

“Are you all right?” he whispered. I glanced at the stark compound walls. Father had already disappeared within, and we were alone with Edward and the child.

“It’s the deficiency,” I said. “After so long on the ship, without proper food . . .”

He didn’t look convinced. His hands tightened on my waist. I’d told Edward there was nothing between Montgomery and me, and yet I couldn’t deny the way I floated inside when he touched me. It was more than that—I trusted him, and I didn’t trust anyone.

“Don’t be afraid of the doctor,” Montgomery said. “He’s spent so long on the island that he sometimes forgets the proper way to act. But he’d never hurt you.”

“And Edward?” I asked. Hearing his name, Edward climbed out of the wagon. Montgomery let his hands fall to his sides. My waist still felt the ghost of their touch.

“You’re owed an apology, for sure,” he said to Edward. “He’s protective of his work and wasn’t expecting a stranger. I am sorry.”

Edward just rubbed his shoulders, as though he was cold. “You’ve nothing to apologize for. I’m sure it was only a joke.” But his face said otherwise.

“In any case, you’re here now.” Montgomery gave him a brotherly slap on the shoulder, though Edward remained as tightly wound as a spring. “Come on, we’ll get you a good meal and a comfortable bed, and you’ll feel better.”

The little boy let out a soft grunt, struggling to tighten one of the harness leathers that had slipped from its buckle. Montgomery pressed his weight against the horse to make it shift and then freed the loose strap and pulled it taut. He smiled. “You’d have gotten it in another minute. Cymbeline, this is the doctor’s daughter, Miss Moreau.”

The boy looked at me shyly through long lashes, producing a sweet smile that revealed a missing front tooth. The humanity behind such a deformed face troubled me deeply. Instead of returning the smile, I turned away guiltily.

With a groan of metal hinges, the great wooden doors to the compound opened. Father stuck his gray head out. “Well, come on. The rain is coming. Every day like clockwork.” He stuck his head back in.

As if to answer, a crack of thunder shook the sky. The clouds hung like too-ripe fruit, ready to split and burst over the island. Montgomery grabbed the rabbit hutch and braced it on his knee while he shut the gate. The rabbits hopped and sniffed at the new smells of the island.

Plunk. A fat drop of rain fell on my forearm. I looked up, and another one landed on my cheek. All around, the trees quaked and danced under the falling drops. The noise on the broad jungle leaves was like nothing I’d heard before, a thousand tiny wagon wheels on a wood-slat bridge. Another second passed, and the few drops turned into a deluge.

I shrieked. I didn’t know rain could fall so hard and fast. Montgomery and Edward ran for the compound. I picked up my skirts and ran behind them, slipping in the quickly forming mud. A second before I crossed the threshold, I startled. Above the entrance, two sets of eyes watched. I blinked away the rain. Two figures were carved in the stone: the Lamb of God and the Lion of Judah. Their eternal eyes, chipped and streaked with lichen, seemed to rumble with the rolls of thunder. I tore away from their spellbinding gaze and hurried through the wooden doors.

Thirteen

THE INTERIOR OF THE compound was rimmed with a covered portico that gave us shelter from the rain. I hunched into myself like a drenched cat that had been thrown into the gutter. My white dress was covered in mud and sludge and sand. My skin itched for the feel of warm, dry clothing.

Montgomery set down the rabbit hutch and leaned into the heavy wooden doors to ease them closed, sealing out the jungle.

The compound was bigger than it looked from the exterior. Stone walls surrounded a dirt courtyard rapidly filling with mud puddles. A vegetable garden and chicken yard had been built on slightly higher ground. Next to the garden, a pump stood over a sunken pool of water, whose surface trembled in the rain.