Home > The Madman's Daughter (The Madman's Daughter #1)(28)

The Madman's Daughter (The Madman's Daughter #1)(28)
Author: Megan Shepherd

“Come along, Prince,” he called. “Or are we going to have to drag you?”

I glanced over my shoulder to see Montgomery help Edward to his feet. Edward took a few shaky steps, waving Montgomery away. Montgomery picked up the rabbit hutch by its crossbeams, and they followed us down the dock.

Father placed my hand in the crook of his elbow, like a gentleman. We walked toward the waiting wagon as casually as a couple strolling down the Strand. If I hadn’t known better, I’d have thought we were just a father and daughter enjoying a warm breeze on a sunny day. But my head was swimming. It was all I could do to keep putting one foot in front of the other.

My head throbbed as if my skullcap was fitted too tight. I stumbled as the end of the dock gave way to sand. The beach stretched the length of the cove, fringed with palms just like in a tropical painting, except for the heavy thunderclouds overhead that cast shadows in the dark places between the trees. The wagon waited, hitched to a huge draft horse with golden hair falling in its eyes. The islanders had already loaded two steamer trunks and some bundles into the back.

“After you, my dear,” Father said. He opened the wagon gate. Edward and I climbed in, and Montgomery loaded the hutch behind us. He started to say something, but Father interrupted. “We haven’t all day, Montgomery.”

Montgomery straightened. He brushed his hair out of his face with one hand, and the hutch slipped. I jumped up to catch a corner before it tumbled out of the wagon.

“Careful,” Father said. “If one of those rabbits gets loose, it’ll mean hell for us.”

The muscles in Montgomery’s neck flexed. He slammed the gate closed.

I sat back down on a trunk next to Edward. Sand caked his feet and trousers up to his knees. I tried to think of something to say, but words couldn’t make up for Father’s actions. Edward’s face was blank, but his hands were shaking slightly. God, if he’d been suffering from sea madness before, this certainly wouldn’t make him any saner.

“Maybe you can go back,” I whispered. “Captain Claggan might still take you to Australia.”

His eyes slid to mine. “I don’t want to go back.”

A question formed on my lips, but Edward looked away. Folded his arms, tight. I pushed away the voices that wondered if it had anything to do with what he’d said on the ship—that he was glad I wasn’t spoken for.

Montgomery climbed into the driver’s seat. Father drew a pistol from his jacket and passed it to him. My throat tightened at the sudden gleam of metal. Montgomery casually tucked it into his belt as though this was their daily routine. But why would they need pistols?

Montgomery took the reins. We moved forward in jerks until the wheels found solid ground and then rumbled over uneven earth and vegetation. I watched the Curitiba looming off the coast. I had a sudden urge to jump off the wagon and swim back to it. But I hadn’t ever learned to swim. And I hated Captain Claggan and his stinking ship. But at least I knew what to expect from it, which was more than I could say for the island. I dared a glance at my father. I had so many questions, but they had all tumbled in an unsettling direction when he’d pushed Edward.

Presently, we picked up speed as the path became more substantial, and the jungle soon swallowed up the beach. Entering the jungle was like going into a cold pantry—the temperature dropped and the canopy blocked out all but dappled late-afternoon sunlight. The broad leaves of unnamed plants formed a tunnel around us, slapping the sides of the jerking wagon and making us duck every few seconds.

“This is a biological outpost,” Father said over his shoulder, as though we were all suddenly old friends. “Montgomery and I have spent years cataloging every specimen on the island. Extraordinary diversity.” I glanced at Edward, wondering what thoughts must be going through his mind, but he’d retreated somewhere within himself.

The wagon hit a rut and I bounced off the trunk, catching myself before I collided with the hutch of rabbits. I came nose to nose with a dirty white rabbit, which reminded me far too much of another rabbit, worlds away now, in an operating theater in London.

“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.

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