Spider Light(11)

Maud said at once that there was not. Once or twice she had been invited to take a drive with a gentleman, but she usually made a polite excuse. She was not, said Maud in a rush of confidence, very comfortable with gentlemen. They were so coarse, weren’t they?

‘Perhaps you prefer the company of ladies?’ said Thomasina, and Maud said, gratefully, that she did. Ladies were somehow less threatening. Gentler.

‘You don’t want to be married some day? Most girls of your age do.’

But the thought of marriage, of getting into a bed with a man and doing whatever it was married people did in a bed was so utterly repugnant that Maud felt quite sick even to think about it. A man’s hands–a man’s body-She shuddered and said, Oh no, she thought marriage would be horrid, and then hoped she had not said anything wrong, or offended her generous hostess.

But Thomasina did not seem to be offended. She said Maud was very sensible, and hugged her again. This time her hands seemed to slide inside the chemise, but Maud did not like to object. It was not like letting a man touch her.

‘Oh no,’ said Thomasina when Maud rather hesitantly said this. Her voice suddenly sounded different. Husky, as if she had a sore throat, but sort of whispery as well. ‘Oh no, my dear, this is nothing like letting a man touch you.’



George Lincoln was delighted to receive a visit from Miss Thomasina. He knew her well, of course–he had always called her Miss Thomasina, ever since she used to visit Twygrist with her cousin, Mr Simon Forrester.

He was very gratified indeed by the suggestion that Maud might spend a few weeks at Quire House. It would be a wonderful opportunity for the child. It was like Miss Thomasina to think of such a thing: she had always been so kind to the young ladies of the neighbourhood, taking them out and about, inviting them to Quire House, taking a real interest in them. So George was very pleased to accept for Maud, after which he made haste to offer Miss Thomasina a glass of sherry. His wife used to say it was a drink for a lady, sherry, and it was one of the things George had always been careful to remember.

But it seemed Miss Thomasina had an appointment and could not stay. She had a great many calls on her time, of course, George knew that. She still concerned herself with the families of people who had worked for her father in the old days. Only last week she had moved that ruffian Cormac Sullivan into the little almshouse recently built on Quire’s land. A very nice cottage it was, and far better than Sullivan deserved.

After Miss Thomasina had gone, striding briskly down the drive, George thought he would miss Maud while she was at Quire, and that his house would seem sadly empty. But at Quire Maud would meet all kinds of people, which pleased George who worried where a husband might be found for the child. There was a real shortage of young men in Amberwood–why, even Miss Thomasina herself, with all her opportunities and her money was not married. A lot of people said she ought to have married her cousin Simon, but neither of them had ever seemed to care for the idea.

Best of all, the visit would take Maud further away from Latchkill. It was far better–far safer–for the child to be kept as far from there as possible.

Latchkill Asylum for the Insane

Day Book: Sunday 5th September

Report by Nurse Bryony Sullivan.



Midday.

Several patients uneasy due to thunderstorm mid-morning. Reaper Wing particularly troublesome–situation not helped by two patients remembering old story about thunderstorms being caused by wrath of the gods, and relating this to rest of wing.



4.00 p.m.

Reverend Skandry persuaded to enter Reaper Wing, where he held a prayer service with the intention (in his words), of ‘Restoring calm and order to the poor unfortunates.’



4.30 p.m.

Prayer service ended in some disarray, when four Reaper Wing occupants began throwing things at Reverend Skandry, who retired in panic and stated that he is not to be asked to minister to that section of Latchkill again.



6.00 p.m.

Dr Glass called out to Reaper Wing (Matron Prout’s orders), and administered bromide all round.



Memorandum to Bursar

Tea given to Dr Glass in Matron’s room. Please to ensure this is shown on daily costings, since it was from Matron’s personal store.

Also deduct cost of breakages (two cups and one plate) from Dora Scullion’s wages this week.

Signed F. Prout (Matron)



Bryony had always wished she could write more details in the day-book reports; she especially wished she could record some of her suspicions of Matron Prout.

‘I daren’t do it, though,’ she said to her father. ‘She’d have the pages torn out before you could turn round. But she’s milking Latchkill for all she’s worth. I’ll swear that half the poor souls in there are being fleeced of every farthing they own.’

‘Chancery lunatics,’ said Bryony’s father. ‘I wouldn’t put it past the old trout.’

Bryony asked what a Chancery lunatic might be.

‘Remember your Dickens, my girl,’ said Cormac. ‘Bleak House. Jarndyce versus Jarndyce. The diverting of inheritances and the snaffling of land by greedy families–God Almighty, have you never heard of it, Bryony? It stems from an old English law–twelfth or thirteenth century–wouldn’t you know the English would still be using rules from the Dark Ages. It gave the Crown custody of the lands of natural fools and guardianship of the property of the insane. If your Prout isn’t up to that little game or one very like it, I’ll take a vow of chastity and enter a monastery.’