Wildthorn (27 page)

"That's because they only show you what they want you to see. What galleries did you visit?"

"I don't know. It was a ward upstairs, very spacious, with a library and a pleasant sitting room. I spoke to some of the ladies there and they seemed quite content."

A great wave of anguish floods over me. "Aunt, that was the First Gallery, the best ward, the only ward like it! You should have asked to see the cell where I was tied down on a filthy mattress for weeks and fed nothing but bread and water, or the ward where there was nothing to do but sit on my bed day after day and watch the other patients being hit or smearing the walls with their own excrement!"

I'm shaking now and can't stop crying.

There is a long silence.

When I finally raise my head, I see that Grace's face is wet, too. She murmurs, "I had no idea ... Oh, Lou, I'm so, so sorry..."

Then she says, "Mamma?" in a quite different tone.

Aunt Phyllis bridles. "I'm sorry, too of course. Especially as it was all for nothing—"

I wonder what she means, but before I can ask Grace leaps in, "We're all upset. Perhaps we've said enough for now." She looks at her mother meaningfully.

My aunt hesitates. "Yes, of course, you're right." She turns to me. "Really, Lou, I never meant for you to suffer."

I don't know whether I believe her. I don't know what I think or feel.

Sighing, she goes across to the looking glass and makes some small adjustments to her hair. Then she turns and says, "Lou, I'm forgetting myself. Will you take some refreshment?"

The perfect hostess! As if I'd just come for a nice visit!

"That's a good idea," Grace says hurriedly. "Why don't you go and ask for some tea, Mamma. And would you like something to eat, Lou?"

I shake my head. Eating is the last thing I want to do.

As soon as my aunt has gone, I collapse on to the low chair and shut my eyes.

There is still so much I don't know. For instance, was Mamma involved?

But right now, I don't care.

I want to go back to Smallcote. I want Eliza to help me think about what it all means and what I should do.

But Aunt Phyllis isn't just going to go away and leave me. She will have plans for me. And I feel so worn out, I don't know whether I have the strength to fight her.

After a while I open my eyes to find Grace watching me. We exchange rueful smiles.

"How are you now, Lou?"

"I'm not sure..." I pause. "Charles hasn't managed to persuade
you
that I'm mad. Do you think he really believes it himself?"

She looks thoughtful. "I don't know. I think he does, or at least he's convinced himself that he does. He quoted all sorts of learned references ... But, since I've found out about it all, I've wondered whether he overheard what you said in the conservatory that night at Carr Head."

"Mmm, I wondered that, too."

"When I wanted you to come and live with us, he wouldn't hear of it. He said he wanted me all to himself, but of course, now, I wonder ... What if he was afraid you'd influence me, somehow turn me against him, and that's at the bottom of it? I don't know."

Sighing, she looks down at her lap. "It was our first quarrel."

Guiltily I realise I haven't thought about what all this means for her. She seems to be on my side ... How does she feel about Charles now? What has he said about her coming to rescue me?

She raises her head and says quietly. "I should have listened to you."

I've never heard her sound so—so old, so world-weary. "Grace—"

But at that moment the door opens and Aunt Phyllis appears with a serving maid carrying a tray. After the girl has gone, my aunt busies herself, pouring and stirring, offering me a biscuit, which I refuse.

A strained silence follows, during which we occupy ourselves with our tea. Eventually, with a feigned bright look, Aunt Phyllis says, "Lou, you'll be happy to set off early tomorrow morning?"

I put down my cup. This is it. Probably she's planning to take me to some other institution where she'll make sure I'm well treated...

At the thought of it, a kind of horror rises in my throat, but I try to keep my voice steady. "I'm not going anywhere with you."

She flinches as if I've hit her. "But—"

"I won't go to another asylum. I won't be shut up again."

"But I'm not taking you to another asylum! We're going home."

"Home?"

"Yes. To Carr Head."

"No!" I don't trust her.

My aunt sighs, and my cousin gives me a pleading look, but I won't give in, not even for Grace.

We drink some more tea in silence.

Finally I say, "When did you decide I wasn't mad?"

Aunt Phyllis sighs. "When Grace saw your photograph, she spoke so fiercely on your behalf..."

Grace nods. "I pointed out to Mamma that what you wanted was quite natural. You were following in Uncle Edward's footsteps and he'd encouraged you..."

"Dear Edward..." My aunt shakes her head. "You're so like him, Lou. He never would do what anyone thought he should."

For a moment I almost soften, but then she says, "But bringing you up in an unconventional way was perhaps not altogether to your benefit."

I bridle immediately. How dare she criticise Papa? And what would he say if he knew what she'd done? "I'd be quite happy, if only other people would let me do as I want!"

"But, my dear—"

Grace intervenes. "Remember, Mamma, I told you lots of girls nowadays are looking for a new sort of life. In London, I've come across several independent young women, making their own way in the world..."

I'm sure Charles doesn't like
that.
But I hold my tongue.

"Yes, you did." My aunt frowns, as if the idea is distasteful to her too. "Anyway, Lou, you see, Grace wants—we
both
want—you to stay with us. You will come, won't you? A little holiday at Carr Head first and then your mother will be glad to see you."

Mamma...

"Does Mamma know where I've been?"

My aunt is clearly startled by this abrupt question. "No ... no, she doesn't."

"Why not?"

She reddens. "Tom and I thought it best not to worry her. She thinks you're still at the Woodvilles'."

I stare at her, astonished, thinking rapidly. I'm glad about Mamma, but—"Surely, after a while, she would have wondered why she hadn't heard from me—why I wasn't visiting her? What were you going to say then?"

Her flush deepens and she looks down at her lap.

There's a long silence.

My mouth has gone dry. What could she say? Apart from telling the truth. Surely she wouldn't have told Mamma I was
dead,
would she?

Grace is the first to break the silence. "Let's be thankful it hasn't come to that. Let's not think about it anymore."

But I can't shake it off so easily. "You lied to Mamma, and would have gone on telling lies."

My aunt shifts uneasily in her chair. "Remember, I did think you were ill and needed help ... I should have told your mamma, of course. She had every right to know. But..." She gives me a pleading look. "Amelia has never really liked me and since Edward died ... I thought that if I came to her and said that you needed treatment, she would have resented my interference. It seemed best to involve Tom, rather than try to persuade her."

Grace slips from her seat and kneeling beside me, she takes my hand. "Lou, dear, I'm sorry. All this must be very painful for you. Why don't we stop talking about it for now? If you come home with us, we can say more then, if you wish."

My aunt stands up. "Yes, that's a good idea. Don't you think so?"

I look from one to the other. I have only one clear thought in my mind.

"I want to go back to Eliza now, please."

Feeling numb, I gaze at the trees sliding past.

My locket—the one with Papa's hair in it—is hanging safely round my neck, but my mourning ring's too big now. It's strange to be wearing my black silk frock. That, too, is looser on me, but that's not the reason it feels unfamiliar. It's as if the frock belongs to another girl, a girl who isn't me any more.

But who am I now? I don't know.

I can feel Aunt Phyllis watching me. I can't shake off the feeling that my rescue is all my cousin's doing, that really my aunt's opposed to it.

I wish Grace had come with us—I'd feel safer—but she said she needed to rest...

"Is Grace quite well, Aunt?"

"Yes." She looks puzzled. "Why do you ask?"

"She seems—different—and needing to rest..."

Her face clears and, with a glance at the driver, she lowers her voice. "She's expecting a child."

"Oh!" I have to struggle a moment to frame an appropriate response. "That's ... lovely. You must all be delighted."

My aunt doesn't look very delighted. "Yes, of course, but in the circumstances..."

"What circumstances?"

"Grace didn't say?"

She whispers that Grace has separated from Charles "temporarily" and is living at Carr Head.

"Because of me?"

She sighs. "All this has obviously had a great effect on her feelings for Charles, but sadly, even before this, things were not ... not as they should be."

Nodding at the driver's back, Aunt Phyllis conveys that she doesn't want to discuss this now and we lapse into silence.

This news sets my thoughts whirling. I was right, then. It has not been the happy marriage Grace anticipated. Surely she must be better off without that awful man. But it must be so difficult for her. Poor Grace. And with a child to think about now...

A thought occurs to me. If Grace's marriage were still perfectly happy, would Aunt Phyllis have released me from Wildthorn?

I give her a hard look, wondering.

Perhaps she senses my gaze. "What is it, Lou?"

"Nothing."

***

Mrs. Shaw must have seen us arrive because she's waiting in the doorway, Lily and Arthur clinging to her skirts and staring at my aunt.

For a moment there's an awkward silence. Then Aunt Phyllis looks at me and I remember how these things are done.

"Mrs. Shaw, this is my aunt, Mrs. Illingworth."

Eliza's mother gives a kind of half-curtsey, her face red and flustered. "You're welcome, Ma'am, I'm sure. Won't you come in and have some tea?"

Inviting us to sit down, Mrs. Shaw bustles about, setting out her best blue-and-white china. More tea ... but clearly Mrs. Shaw would be hurt if we refused.

Aunt Phyllis draws Lily into conversation and the little girl soon forgets her shyness. From his stool in the farthest corner of the room, Arthur fixes the visitor with a solemn gaze.

"Where's Eliza?" I ask.

"She's feeding the pig." Mrs. Shaw looks up from the range. "Shall Lily fetch her for you?"

"No, I'll go myself."

***

She's down by the ramshackle pigsty. Hearing my step on the path, she looks up.

At the sight of her, something slides in my chest.

With her hair awry, a smudge on her cheek, clutching the old pail in one hand, she looks simply ... herself. And I am so glad to see her.

Setting the pail down, she raises her eyes to me, her face a troubled question mark.

Quickly I tell her the gist of what I've learned. "...and now my aunt is waiting in your house, and she wants me to go back with her."

Glancing at the cottage, Eliza touches my elbow and signals that we should walk down to the end of the garden. Here, hidden from view by the pigsty, we stand, side by side, gazing over a field of barley. It's still green, but the ears are showing.

I turn over in my mind what my options are. Really, it seems as if I've no choice...

"I think I will go back, you know."

"Yes." Eliza's tone is hollow. She starts to pick at a piece of tar on the fence post. "Soon as I saw her—your cousin—I knew you would."

"No, not to Carr Head with them! I couldn't bear to stay with Aunt Phyllis. I'd better go home. I want to see Mamma and Mary..." I pull a face. "I don't want to see Tom. I never want to see him again."

There's a silence then. Eliza goes on picking at the tar, while I contemplate the future that's unexpectedly presented itself to me.

Eventually, with a sigh, I say, "You know, Eliza, I'm not sure I can go back to my old life, looking after the house and Mamma. I think I'd feel even more trapped than I did before. It would be almost as bad as being shut up in Wildthorn!"

Eliza looks sideways at me and I correct myself. "No, it wouldn't be as bad as that, of course. But it would be bad enough."

We stare out at the barley.

I know I have to go, but I don't want to, not yet.

Eliza says, "Maybe there's a way you could be a doctor, like you want."

I look at her, considering. "I don't know. I've been wrong about so many things ... what if I'm wrong about that, too?"

"You'd be good! Better than Sneed and Bull and that lot. You'd help people."

"You think so?"

"Yes, I do."

I smile at her briefly. "But I can't see how it's possible. Mamma won't agree to it and even if I defy her, it's expensive to train. I can't ask Aunt Phyllis for the money now..."

At the thought of it, of what she did, I feel overcome again. "I've never hated anyone before, but I hate her, you know, Eliza."

"I'm not surprised."

"Anyway, never mind her, what about you? What are you going to do?"

She becomes intent on the piece of tar again. "Oh, I'll try to get something I suppose." Her voice is flat, colourless.

"But you haven't got a reference, have you?"

She shrugs. "It don't matter. Not everyone's that particular about references."

Something's wrong. I can tell from her voice, from the way she won't look at me.

"Eliza? What is it?"

"Nothing."

"Tell me."

She turns her head then and her look sears me.

"D'you think any of that matters to me now? You—you're the only thing I care about. I know you can't stay here, you've got to go. But I'm afraid you'll not think of me. I'm afraid you'll go back to your old life and forget me and I'll never see you again." Her face crumples and she starts to sob.

I'm stunned. I've never seen her cry before...