Free Lady Silence by Blair Bancroft Page A

day over
twenty-five or six. As tall as himself, if a bit gangly. A
confident gaze looked out from eyes that closely matched his warm
brown hair, fashionably cut in one of London’s latest styles. His
clothing was equally well cut . A dandy, by
God .
    And peering down his Katy’s bosom!
    His Katy.
Blast the girl—she was capturing him as handily as she had all the
others. Far from an innocent child, she had to be an adventuress,
pulling the wool over everyone’s eyes, assuring her continuance in
her snug little nest.
    Damon asked the doctor to be seated. After
exchanging the customary greetings to be expected between a wealthy
landowner and a lowly local doctor—which reminded the colonel
strongly of exchanges between himself and fresh-faced officers just
out from England, exuding the confidence of their ancient
lineages—he said, “I understand you have an interest in Katy
Snow.”
    “ A unique case,” Rowley declared with
considerable enthusiasm. Far too much, Damon thought sourly. “Most
unique to find a mute who can hear. I have decided to write a paper
about her.”
    Damon leaned back in his chair, raised his
voice to be sure it carried to wherever Katy had hidden herself.
“Has it ever occurred to you, Rowley, that Katy Snow might not be a
mute?”
    Surprisingly, the doctor’s enthusiasm
brightened still more.. “Ah, then you are aware of the power of
hysteria, colonel? No doubt from your experiences on the
Peninsula?”
    That was not at all what he had in
mind, but the Damon would never admit it. “Hysteria, Rowley? I
suppose that is a common
female complaint,” he pronounced At any moment, he expected a book
to come flying at him, well-aimed by Katy Snow’s allegedly
hysterical hand.
    “ That is exactly what I was going to
propose in my paper, colonel,” declared the doctor. “There are a
number of cases in which a perfectly normal child has been
frightened into silence by some disastrous event.”
    Damon inclined his head. “Perhaps. But I fear
that was not my meaning.” He watched Rowley intently as the young
man finally comprehended the colonel’s remark.
    “ Impossible! She was twelve when she
came to Farr Park. She’s past eighteen now. No one could manage
such a masquerade for that length of time. Nor would she. Miss Snow
is a sweet, charming young lady. How frequently have I heard Lady
Moretaine call her a treasure. Which she undoubtedly is,” the
doctor added, regaining his customary confidence in the superiority
of his judgment.
    The colonel proffered a tight smile that was
more chilling than his frown. “I believe we must agree to
disagree,” he murmured. “Did you wish to see the girl today,
Rowley?”
    “ Indeed,” replied the doctor cooly. “I
am attempting to stimulate her voice by applying pressure to the
muscles in her neck—”
    “ I beg your pardon.”
    “ I apply pressure here . . . and here,”
said Mr. Rowley, raising his fingers to his own throat and
demonstrating his technique.
    “ You massage Katy’s neck?” said Colonel
Farr, most ominously.
    “ Ah, yes . . . I believe you might call
it that.”
    “ Katy!” Damon bawled. His recent
condescension to addressing her as Miss Snow had completely slipped
his mind.
    She appeared from behind him and stood to his
right, keeping the width of the desk between herself and William
Rowley. Damon did not think it was by accident.
    “ Katy, Mr. Rowley wishes you to go with
him for one of his treatments.”
    She planted her feet hard against the
carpet, as if a tree of ancient root. She crossed her arms over her
chest; her head shook a tiny but decisive No .
    “ Miss Snow,” Damon said, carefully
correcting his form of address, “now acts as my secretary. “I am
certain that as a fellow author you can appreciate how much work is
involved in that chore. I believe—no, I am sure—I cannot spare her.
Your efforts on her behalf are much appreciated, Rowley, but I
think such treatments must cease. If you will send a