Justin said, "Ardsley will have to transport her from the sanitarium to the meeting,"
"Aye." Marcus replied. "Only, we will meet him long before he reaches Boston."
The sun peeked over the horizon. Not a single traveler had appeared on the road leading to Danvers Sanitarium while they lay hidden under the cover of darkness. Marcus tapped Justin on the shoulder and signaled that he would return momentarily. He slipped from the trees overlooking the road east of them, crept through tall grass, brambles, and bush up a hill. The wildly growing foliage ended abruptly. Across a vast manicured lawn, the view of the sprawling, ivy-covered, brick building—his first in the light of day—chilled him to the bone.
The pointed towers and peaked gables had lost the haunting look their silhouettes projected in the twilight hours and became, instead, the bared teeth of The Witches' Castle. A shudder ran through him. What sort of twisted mind had built a sanitarium on the spot where John Hathorne, the most fanatical judge of the Salem witch trials, once lived?
Marcus's heart hardened at sight of the iron-barred windows. He brought his gaze down to the stone steps of the front entrance. Marked on both sides by wrought iron railing, they lead up to a circular, covered porch. Columns supported the porch roof on either side. He looked again at the windows, studying one, then another, of what seemed an endless array of cells.
Which of those tiny rooms held Elise prisoner? So close. Marcus envisioned forcing his way past the attendants who fed off the brutality they inflicted upon the helpless inmates. The image, however, was violently replaced by the realization that those men would hold him until Price arrived. Then any power embodied in the information he held would become worthless—and Elise would be lost forever. He closed his eyes in an effort to banish the thought but saw, instead, her frail form, lying on a thin pallet, hands crossed over her breasts in readiness for the coffin. He shook off the vision, then turned from the menacing asylum. He crept down the slope and returned to Justin and Steven.
Marcus scanned the empty road before whispering, "What has gone wrong?"
"Mayhap Ardsley took her out before we arrived?" Justin asked.
Steven shook his head. "No. You heard what our scout said when we arrived yesterday evening. Price hasn't been to the sanitarium."
Marcus started to speak, but Steven cut him off. "The surrounding area is being watched. Had anyone ridden cross-country, we would have been alerted."
"A single man could have slipped past your men," Marcus said. "Does Ardsley ride?"
"Quite well," Steven replied. "But he couldn't have approached the hospital without being spotted. As you have seen, Danvers is surrounded by open country."
"He would need a carriage for Elise," Justin said.
"Aye," Marcus agreed, "but if he didn't plan on bringing her to the meeting today, he would have come by horseback."
"If he doesn't need her at the meeting, he may not have come at all," Justin added.
"He has no hope of swinging the vote without her," Steven said. "He must bring her. Why keep her alive if he isn't going to present her?"
That was a question Marcus couldn't consider.
Another day of living with the knowledge that Elise was locked in hell had worn Marcus beyond thin. The Single Penny's tavern door swung open and he snapped his attention onto the newcomer, his brother-in-law. His heart rate accelerated. The grim expression on the lad's face didn't bode well. Steven assessed the room in the same manner he had the day they'd met William Shelby, then pressed through the cluster of men milling near the door and shuffled across the room.
He slid into the seat opposite Marcus and without preamble whispered, "I'm a complete fool."
"What has happened?" Marcus demanded.
"We were so occupied with Danvers—so sure Elise was there—"
"Are you saying she is not?"
Steven shook his head. "No. Only that our knowing she is there created a distraction." He gave a harsh laugh. "If I didn't know any better, I would swear Price planned it." His mouth dipped into a deep scowl. "It occurred to me last night that I should question Price's servants."
"Wouldn't Ardsley stop you?" Marcus asked.
"If he knew, yes. There is little love lost between Price and his servants. The housekeeper, in particular, despises him." Steven halted and looked past Marcus. He realized the barmaid must be approaching with ale in hand. An instant later, she appeared at his right and set an ale before Steven.
"Any of that jackrabbit stew left?" Steven asked.
"Always got jackrabbit stew," she replied.