Free Follow The Night (Bewitch The Dark) by Michele Hauf Page B

to the other.
    It had been Ninon who’d finally convinced her to bring Damian to Bicêtre. Google-eyed moon hunter. Ninon had blurted out the cruel moniker the night they’d coaxed him inside from the windowsill where he had perched staring up into the darkness.
    Just until he regained control of his sanity, Roxane said to herself now as the horse cantered down the pounded dirt road.
    He will get back his sanity. He must.
    She had only herself to blame for her brother’s condition.
     
     
    “Fifty livres?”
    Gabriel looked up from the notes and bills. It was the first time he had heard protest from Toussaint regarding his philanthropic investments.
    “Well, I just…” Toussaint tried to hold Gabriel’s stare but with a huff and a sigh he accepted the coin and tucked it in his left waistcoat pocket.
    “See it is delivered anonymously,” Gabriel cautioned.
    “I know the scenario.” Toussaint hefted the full leather plackets containing notes of promise and land documents and mumbled the words Gabriel had said so often before, “Discretion is paramount for a man of such kidney.”
    Gabriel preferred anonymity, though a few were aware of his contributions by default. Those few were close-lipped—save Madame de Marmonte. But Gabriel kept her in check with twice-weekly visits to her pathetic salon. Of course she could never know his true identity, which also gave her knowledge little meaning.
    It seemed he could not dispose of his money fast enough without the interest compounding and seeming to literally double his holdings. His inheritance, his father had explained on the eve of his departure. Gabriel had not been of age, merely eighteen, but the count had emancipated his son so that he could inherit.
    A wretched inheritance it was. For it was not family money from the land holdings or the stipend the count and countess received annually. Gabriel’s inheritance had been formed solely from his parents’ sordid business transactions. He’d initially balked at accepting the money he viewed as unclean and vile, but he had accepted it to maintain the lifestyle he had grown accustomed to, aiming to distribute the wealth to those less fortunate.
    He wondered now what the future would bring should this crazy wait for moonlight dramatically alter him. His affairs were in order, the entire sum of his legitimate wealth being divided into various hospitals and charity. Might the children’s ward he had planned for Hotel Dieu, a shelter for the orphans and the abandoned to go and to be loved, become reality?
    Really, man, why have you not simply built the thing? You have the funds.
    So many political rings to jump through. The count and countess Renan had not left for the Americas in good standing with the king. The Renan name was shunned and spat upon. An appointment at court was unthinkable. A meeting with the King’s financial secretary proved an impossible dream. Better to tread lightly, to work anonymously under Leo’s moniker.
     
     
    Never would she fully accustom herself to the stench that sweatered the pounded dirt courtyard preceding Bicêtre. From the beauty of a surrounding heather field to a festering milieu.
    “Mademoiselle Desrues,” the kindly clerk behind the main desk always called to her as she tentatively stepped inside.
    Cracked marble tiles stretched wall to wall in the massive foyer. High above, dusty chandeliers caked with sooted candle wax held court, rarely used, far too massive and dirty to warrant care.
    Skirts clutched tightly at her thighs, Roxane took a moment to adjust to the surroundings. Common stable smells, she always tried to convince herself. However stables were frequently cleaned and mucked. She dared not guess how rarely the cells and chambers within this hellhole were tended. The upper floors, she had been told, were quite clean; that was where the stable patients resided alongside the laboratories with glass-paned ceilings to let in light.
    The courtyard out back provided fresh