Spider Light(120)
It was a relief, therefore, when the pony trap she hired at Chester railway station jolted its way up the lane, and she saw that Toft House was completely in darkness. And the gatepost sign was easy: she simply drew attention away from it by pointing to the house, and saying that Miss Forrester was at the infirmary, making the arrangements for Nell’s treatment. She had hoped Miss Forrester would be back by now, said Maud, but clearly she was not.
Once inside, it was clear Nell did not like the house. Her eyes were huge and scared, and she kept glancing over her shoulder every few minutes.
Maud said, briskly, that Nell could wash and tidy herself in the bathroom, and there was a bedroom at the back of the house where she would sleep. The bathroom was at the far end of the upstairs passage, beyond George’s bedroom, and as they went past it, Nell Kendal seemed to shiver. This was ridiculous: she could not possibly know what lay beyond that door, but Maud had a sudden disturbing vision of George (whom she no longer thought of as ‘father’), twisted and contorted on the bed, his eyes staring sightlessly upwards. Didn’t people’s bodies stiffen like wooden boards when they were dead?
She pushed this from her mind, and sat down to wait in the deep window at the half-turn of the stairs. Once it had been the place where flower-like girls sat out dances in the days when Toft House had hummed with life, but Maud could only remember it being used for the cleaning women to put their polishing rags and beeswax when they cleaned the stairs. Tonight it would be where she would put one of the oil lamps, because it looked out over the high road, and a light up here would be seen for miles, and Maud wanted people to see lights here tonight. Some time during the next few hours, her escape from Latchkill would be discovered, and as soon as that happened, they would come out to Toft House to talk to George Lincoln. That they had not done so yet was apparent from its dark silence. Even so, she had better work swiftly.
She took Nell back downstairs, saying it would soon be time to set off. A carriage would come, she said. It felt quite strange to be talking into the silence like this, and receiving no response. But Catherine–Cat–had said her sister could hear and understand, even though she could not speak. Even so, it was disconcerting to be with someone who knew what you were saying but never replied.
She brought Nell a glass of milk and a plate of biscuits. The pills, squirrelled away in her handkerchief while she was in Latchkill, went into the glass–Maud was pleased to see that they dissolved almost at once. Within ten minutes of drinking the milk, Nell was dazed and sleepy, and submitted to being led back to the drawing room, and to the window seat. She could wait there, said Maud. She would be able to see the carriage when it came.
By this time Nell was too dazed to argue; her eyelids were already closing, and within minutes she was asleep. There was no time to be lost. Her sewing basket was in the desk where it always was, and Maud took the pinking shears from it. Working quickly, she sheared off the long light-coloured hair so that it resembled her own ragged crop. She was careful to sweep up the hair and put it all in the kitchen range. What else? Ought she to dress the girl in one of her own gowns? Yes, of course she ought. She did so, disliking the flaccid feel of the thin body, but doggedly pulling Nell Kendal’s own worn garments off, and putting them in the kitchen range along with the sheared hair. There should be time later to light the range and burn everything.
Everything was working exactly to plan. The only thing she had not been able to plan for was whether the people who came for her would be people who knew her. Apart from Matron, she had only ever seen two nurses while she was in Latchkill–Higgins and the hatchet-faced one whose name she had never heard. Matron was unlikely to come and Higgins would probably be nursing her sore head after Maud had knocked her out. But hatchet-face might come, and Byrony Sullivan might come. Even Dr Glass. If that happened, the plan would fail.
But it was a very small risk, and every risk she had taken so far had worked. This would work now. When people came to Toft House–as they certainly would–they would be expecting to find Maud Lincoln, and they would find a creature they would assume was Maud–a creature who was bewildered to the point of being beyond speech.
They would find other things in Toft House, as well. Two dead bodies. They would assume Maud had killed them and they would know she was helplessly mad. By the time the truth was discovered, the real Maud would have slipped out of Amberwood and be miles away. Safe and free.
Bryony had not expected to be summoned to the Prout’s office halfway through her ordinary spell of night duty on Latchkill’s main ward, but Dora Scullion had breathlessly delivered the message shortly after ten o’clock. Please to report to Matron’s office at once, Scullion had said.
It was unusual to be summoned to Prout’s sanctum at any time of the day, and it was usually to receive a reprimand for some trifling misdemeanour. But ten o’clock at night was not generally one of Prout’s times for dealing with miscreants, nor was it customary for Dr Glass to be present on those occasions. But he was there, standing by the window. He gave Bryony a quick smile and then looked impatiently at Prout.
‘Well, Matron? What’s this all about?’
‘There has been,’ said Freda firmly, ‘an unfortunate incident.’
‘Incident?’ said Dr Glass sharply.
‘A patient has–somehow managed to get out,’ said Freda, and Bryony saw Daniel’s black brows snap down in a frown.