Chapter 15

When Cassie slowly opened her eyes, she found herself in a warm, comfortable bed, dressed in a white cotton shift and carefully covered by clean sheets and a thick woollen blanket. The room she was in was small and dimly lit. A single candle on a wooden mantelpiece and a small fire in the grate were the only sources of light. The flame of the candle danced merrily, as it gave out enough flickering orange light for Cassie to examine her surroundings.

The room was sparsely furnished and contained only a few pieces of simple wooden furniture. Next to the bed, was an old-fashioned wooden high-backed chair, with a basket, full of worn socks, by its side. Hung on the back of the door, was a red military jacket. Cassie guessed, from its style and the insignia emblazoned on the sleeves, that it must belong to an officer. Everything in the room, except for the basket, told Cassie that the room belonged to a gentleman.

She closed her eyes and tried her best to recall any memories she had, of how she ended up in this strange room when the door slowly opened. As she reopened her eyes, she saw a plump woman, bustle quietly into the room. The woman came over to the bed, look down at her and smiled warmly. 'Hello dearie,' she said brightly. Cassie could not help but notice that she spoke with a soft West Country burr, 'it's good to see that you're awake at last. I was worried about you.'

The woman touched her gently on the forehead, with the back of her hand, and then said, 'can you sit up for me, dearie. I've brought you some nice hot milk with a little honey mixed in. It's important to build up your strength.'

Cassie tried to speak, but no words came out of her mouth. She did, however, manage to lift her head a little. The woman smiled, and said, 'good girl, just a little higher.' Then she put her hand behind Cassie's head and gently tilted her towards the glass of sweetened warm milk.

'Where am I? Cassie said, after taking a few sips. There was a slightly bitter taste to the milk, and Cassie recognised it as laudanum.

'You're safe, dearie, that's all you need to know,' the woman said softly, 'get some rest and I'll answer your questions later when you've had a little more milk.'

Cassie took a few more sips, and then looked at the stranger. 'Where am I? Please tell me.'

The woman put the glass down and reached for a large handkerchief and dabbed the corners of her mouth. 'Don't you worry yourself, dearie,' she said, putting her hand gently on her shoulder, 'no one is going to hurt you here.'

'Please,' Cassie said, in anguish, 'I must know.'

The woman sat on the wooden chair, next to the bed, and took her hand. 'My name is Betsy,' she said, with a smile, 'and I have been looking after you for the last two days.'

'Am I still at the club?' Cassie asked, still looking anguished and trying her best to sit up.

'Dear me, no, Miss Stanford,' Betsy said emphatically, 'you are not in that dreadful place.'

'You know my real name,' Cassie said, turning her head around to look at Betsy. After everything she had experienced, over the past two and a half years, she did not feel as though she had the right to be formally addressed as Miss Stanford. 'Please, call me Cassie. Miss Stanford is the name of my sister. I'm not good enough to use the same name as her.'

'Hush,' Betsy said gently, seeing the distress that the name was causing her, 'I will call you Miss Cassie. I can't go around calling you by your first name. What would the Captain say if he heard me?'

'Who is the Captain?' Cassie asked, again looking distressed.

'Captain Laws,' Betsy said, squeezing her hand reassuringly, 'was the gentleman that rescued you from that awful place. This is his room.'

Cassie closed her eyes, as she tried to remember what had happened. There was a hazy memory, at the back of her mind, of being gently carried out of the cellar. 'I remember the cellar,' she said, as her memory was beginning to clear, 'and I also remember two men coming into the cellar. I thought it was Major Ellington and Mr Reynolds...'

'That was Captain Laws and my Joe,' Betsy said, stroking her hand to calm her down. 'They brought you back here to be looked after by me.'

'Why did they...' Cassie was about to question her further when she was interrupted by a gentle knock on the door. Betsy let go of her hand, got slowly to her feet and opened the door.

Cassie turned her head to look at the gentleman, who had just walked through the door. He was of medium height, with dark brown hair that hung around his shoulders and he had eyes that were neither grey or brown. She could not describe him as handsome, but, there was something about his countenance that was different from most of the men that she had encountered. He walked over to the bed and looked down at her and smiled.

'I'd better go and see what my Joe's up to,' Betsy said, as she gathered together her basket and made her way to the door. 'I'm sure the Captain will be able to answer any questions you still have. Good-bye dearie, I'll pop in later to see how you are.'

Once Betsy had bustled out of the room, he sat in the chair next to the bed. 'Thank you, Captain Laws,' Cassie eventually said, in a whisper, breaking the long silence. 'For rescuing me from the cellar.'

'There's no need to thank me, Miss Stanford,' he said softly, 'no need at all.'

'Please call me Cassie,' she said, looking at him, her eyes full of sadness. 'I haven't been called Miss Stanford since I was a teacher, and that seems a lifetime ago.'

'I will,' he said, 'but, only if you call me Damien.'

'I cannot,' she said, her eyes welling with tears, 'I do not deserve to be your equal. I'm nothing but a... whore.'

'Don't say that,' he said, turning around to her, his voice full of concern, 'you must never blame yourself for what happened to you.'

'It was my fault,' she said weakly, 'I was foolish and naïve.'

He put his hand on hers and said, 'please, Cassie, don't blame yourself.'

'Why did you come for me?' she asked, after another silence, 'was it my sister who sent you?'

'It was an acquaintance of your sister,' he replied.

'I wonder who that could have been?' she said, with a puzzled look on her face. 'My sister is just a school teacher, with no connections to the military, apart from my brother, of course. But I know that he didn't help her.' Then she remembered the night her sister had visited her at the club. Verity must have had some help getting into the building. The club had a strict membership policy; therefore, it would have been almost impossible for anyone to enter or leave, without being noticed. All the doors to the outside world were either locked or guarded, and the windows that were closest to the ground had been either nailed shut or had cast iron bars placed on the outside.

'I remember, the night she came and visited me, an officer came and took her away. It must have been him.' Cassie looked at him again, her brow furrowed, 'but I cannot remember his name.'

After a long silence, he said cautiously, 'it was Colonel Mitford, who asked me to free you.'

'Colonel Mitford?' Cassie repeated, as she closed her eyes and tried to trawl her memory for information. 'Where have I heard that name before?' she said out loud, but expecting no answer from him.

'I remember a Major Mitford,' she said, after a short silence, 'he was with Major Ellington when I first met him.' She then turned around to look at him, her face looked troubled, 'have you told him I am here?'

'As soon as I left you here, I tried to tell him,' Damien said soothingly, 'but I couldn't find him.'

Cassie sighed in relief. 'Please don't tell him,' she entreated him, 'promise me, you will not.'

'Why don't you want him to know where you are?' Damien asked gently. 'If you're worried that he still has connections with Ellington, I can assure you, he does not.'

'Oh, it's not that,' she said, still looking anxiously at him, 'he will tell my sister, and she will come here and...' a couple of tears began to fall down her cheeks. 'I don't want her to see me like this,' she said, as she turned her head away from him in shame.

'Would you not like to see your sister again?' he asked her soothingly, 'she must be worried about you.'

'Not like this,' she said, in barely a whisper, 'I do not want her to see me like this.'

Damien put his head down and breathed deeply. 'I will tell him,' he said, with a sigh, 'but not yet.' He took a large handkerchief from the pocket of his jacket and gave it to her. 'Dry your eyes,' he said gently, 'and do not worry about your sister.'

'Thank you,' she said, as she took the handkerchief from him and dried her eyes, 'for everything you have done for me. I do not know if I will ever be able to repay your kindness?'

'There is nothing to repay,' he said, smiling at her, 'I just want you to rest and get better.'

'Have a little milk,' he said, as he picked up the glass of sweetened milk that Betsy had left behind on the bedside table, 'it is still a little warm, and it will help build your strength up.'

Cassie shook her head. 'No thank you,' she said, adamantly refusing his request. 'It has laudanum in it,' she continued, as she took a deep breath and propped herself up on her elbows, 'I never want to take that dreadful stuff again.'

Damien held the glass in one hand and gently touched her cheek with the other. 'Is that why you're refusing to drink it.'

Cassie nodded. 'I did not want to cause a scene in front of Betsy. She has been so kind and gentle with me. But, I cannot; I will not,' she said, as she shook her head.

'Oh, Cassie,' he said, very gently, 'I am afraid you will have to drink it.'

She was sitting up in bed, looking at him in horror. 'But, why? I want to leave my old life behind.' Cassie's hands then began to noticeably tremble.

Damien put the glass down and took hold of her hands. 'Cassie,' he said, his voice still gentle, 'can you stop your hands from shaking?'

Once he had let go of them, she held them out in front of her and looked at them intently, but they continued to tremble. She then covered her face with them and began to sob. 'No, no I can't,' she said, through her tears.

Damien got out of the chair and sat on the bed facing her. He took hold of her hands and gently brought them away from her face. He then moved so that he sat next to her on the bed and then he put his arm tenderly around her shoulders.

There was nothing sensual in the way he touched her, his touch was warm and tender. As he held her a little tighter, careful not to touch the wounds on her back, she melted into his embrace. It was the first time since she had seen her sister, that anyone had offered her any comfort, and it made her realise just how much she had missed that tender physical contact of another human being.

As she began to relax against his shoulder, she lay her head on his chest and listened to the soft rhythmical beat of his heart and breathed in the comforting smell of his cologne. She began to feel an air of tranquillity wash over her, as he gently stroked her shoulder. She felt like a ship, that had been tossed and battered by a storm, that was returning to the safety of port.

Cassie did not know, and neither did she want to know, how many men she had slept with since she left her family home after her father's death. But even after all those physical encounters, including those initial passionate meetings with Ellington, nothing had felt as intimate as that affectionate embrace. It felt like her soul, after such a long time of pain and torment, had finally found the shelter it craved.

As her tears were beginning to subside, she felt him tenderly stroke her hair. His breathing slowed, and she could also feel his tense muscles relax. 'Cassie,' he said softly, as he laid his chin on the top of her head, 'I'm sorry for what they have done to you.'

She lifted her head and looked at him. 'You have nothing to be sorry for,' she said, as she turned around and touched his cheek lightly with her fingertips. Even though his cheek was rough with stubble, she took comfort in its coarse texture.

'I want you to get better,' he said, as he looked at her thoughtfully with those eyes that were neither grey or brown, but a curious mixture of both.

After a few minutes of silence, Cassie, who was physically and mentally exhausted, closed her eyes and began to relax against his chest. 'Cassie,' he said quietly, 'I can feel that your hands are cold, and they are still trembling.'

Cassie nodded. 'I also feel shaky inside,' she said, in a whisper.

'Please take some of the milk that Betsy prepared for you,' he said, as he caressed her fingers, 'you will feel so much better after drinking it.'

'I cannot,' she said, looking at him anxiously with a furrowed brow, 'I can taste the laudanum in it. I never want to touch that awful stuff again.'

Damien sighed. 'Oh, Cassie,' he said, 'if you don't drink this, the shaking will just get worse, and you won't be able to sleep. You will also begin to suffer other symptoms, even worse than the ones you are suffering from now,' he said gently.

'But, I do not want to take it anymore,' she said, her brow still furrowed.

'You must stop taking it gradually,' he said gently. 'It could take several months, but if you reduce the amount you ingest every week, you will be able to stop. It will be difficult, but you can do it.

Cassie looked at him and nodded. 'Yes, I know you are right. When I first started taking it, I foolishly thought I could stop at any time. I took it because it gave me a detachment from the reality of what my life had become. When I was under its influence, I was no longer in control of myself, and I quickly lost that sense of shame that had been making me miserable. What I was doing, no longer felt real, it was like I had been replaced by another person, one who enjoyed having no morals or dignity.' She looked up at him, her eyes full of sadness, 'do you think I could ever be in control of my own mind and body again?'

Damien sighed and then squeezed her shoulders. 'Yes, yes I do. If you really want to.'

'Will you help me?' she said, with a look of pleading in her eyes.

'Yes, I will help,' he said tenderly.

'Then I will drink the milk,' she said, as she lifted her head up slightly and looked at him.

Damien reached over and handed her the glass of milk that had been resting on the side-table next to him, and gave it to her. Cassie drank the contents of the glass in one go and then handed it back to him. 'Thank-you,' she said, as she began to feel the effect of the laudanum wash over her, 'you have been very kind to me.'

He continued to sit by her, with his arm about her shoulder, when she said, 'it is late, and I am in your bed.'

'Do not worry about me,' he said, smiling at her, 'I can sleep anywhere.' He then stood up and took a folded blanket from the end of the bed, 'I can sleep on this chair.'

Cassie opened her eyes wide and looked at him with concern. 'No, you cannot,' she said firmly, 'you will never get any sleep on that uncomfortable piece of furniture. There is plenty of room on the bed. I will move over, and you can sleep next to me.'