by M C Beaton
“Gone into the country.”
“Where?”
“Can’t say.” He turned away.
Daisy turned to the two footmen who were getting down from the backstrap. Charles, the head footman, she knew did not approve of her, but Jim, the second footman, had a soft spot for her.
She walked away, determined to get Jim on his own.
She caught him later as he was carrying logs up to the drawing-room. “Jim,” she hissed, “where’s my lady? What’s going on?”
“Told not to breathe a word to you or anyone or I’ll get the sack.”
“Please, Jim. The countess has sent me packing and my lady would never let that happen. Please, Jim.”
“All right. But I never told you nothing, mind. Wait till I make up the fire.”
Daisy waited in a fever of impatience until he came out again. “In here,” said Jim, opening the door of the library. He closed the door behind them and spoke rapidly in a low voice. “We took her out to a place outside Barnet. It’s called The Grange, about two miles out on the North Road. It was a creepy place, with the windows all barred.
“There was a chap with white hair waiting on the step and Humphrey called him Dr McWhirter.
“He and Humphrey led her inside. After ten minutes or so, Humphrey comes out. She says an odd thing, half to herself. She says, ‘Well, that’s settled madam’s hash.’”
Daisy went to her room and dressed in a warm dress and cloak, a felt hat and boots. She went downstairs and slipped out of the house. She walked through Eaton Square and then through Sloane Square and along the King’s Road to Water Street to Harry’s address. She hoped she would find him at home. She did not want to go to his office, feeling sure that Miss Jubbles would try to stop her from seeing him.
Becket opened the door to her and Daisy fell into his arms and burst into tears. Harry came out of his front parlour. “What’s the matter?” he asked.
“Don’t know, sir,” said Becket.
“Bring her in here and bring brandy.”
Once she had recovered and taken a gulp of brandy, Daisy told them the little she knew.
Harry listened in grim silence. Then he said, “Let’s see what Kerridge knows about this place.”
He phoned Scotland Yard and was put through to the detective superintendent immediately. Harry told him what had happened to Rose, and then asked, “Do you know anything about this place, The Grange?”
“Do I ever,” sighed Kerridge. “I was out there on a sad case. It’s an asylum for the rich run by a Dr McWhirter. A certain heiress, Miss Penelope Parry, escaped and got as far as Barnet, crying to the townspeople that she was not mad, that her family had put her away there to get their hands on her money. Police were called. I was called out on it. There was nothing I could do. The family had signed the papers to have her committed and the good Dr McWhirter testified that she was mad. Two days later, she hanged herself in her room. Tragic.”
“I’ll see what I can do and let you know,” said Harry.
He put down the receiver and turned to Daisy. “It’s an asylum. What on earth possessed Lady Rose’s parents to send her there?”
“They were furious because she turned down a proposal of marriage from Sir Richard Devizes. I think that maid, Humphrey, had something to do with it. Oh, blimey, Humphrey was visiting some doctor in Harley Street for her bleeding nerves.” In her distress, Daisy’s Cockney accent was coming back.
“I’ll bet,” said Harry, “that this doctor is a charlatan. I think he hopes to drive Lady Rose mad and have her there for life.”
“Like poor Lady Mordaunt,” wailed Daisy.
Lady Mordaunt’s husband had found out that she had been having an affair with the king. So he had taken his pistol, shot all her horses, and had her locked away in a madhouse for life.
“Let me think,” said Harry. “I know. Daisy, I am going to give you a lesson in lock-picking if it takes all night, and I shall give you some thin files to sew into your clothes. In fact, better sew them into your stays in case they take your outer garments away.
“Tomorrow, I will take you out to The Grange. McWhirter doesn’t know me, so I shall use a false name and say you are my mad niece and you must act mad.”
“I’ll do anything to save Rose.”
Daisy proved a quick learner in the art of lock-picking and so was able to return to Eaton Square late that evening. She went up to her room and packed a bag. She took off her stays and removed two of the steels and slipped two files in instead. Harry had told her to return and spend the night at Water Street.
Daisy was carrying her bag down the stairs when she found herself confronted by Humphrey.
“And where do you think you’re going?” said Humphrey.
“Getting out of here.”
“You are supposed to pack up Lady Rose’s things.”
“Pack them yourself, you old trout.”
♦
Rose had never felt so frightened in her life before. She had arrived with Humphrey. Dr McWhirter had met her and said he would take her upstairs to see his ‘patient’.
Rose had felt decidedly uneasy. There was the sound of someone sobbing. The stairs were thickly carpeted and the air smelt of cheap cooking and disinfectant. Her mother had said that a Mrs Prothero was an old friend. Still, better get it over with. She would only stay for a few minutes.
Dr McWhirter was joined on the first landing by a burly man in a white coat. “My assistant, Philips,” he murmured.
He led the way on up and along a corridor at the top of the building and swung open a door. Rose walked into a barely furnished room. There was a narrow bed against one wall. A curtained recess by the window served as a wardrobe. The floor was covered in shiny dark green linoleum.
Rose swung round. Dr McWhirter was standing in the doorway with his powerful-looking assistant.
“Where is Mrs Prothero?” demanded Rose.
“There is no Mrs Prothero. This is an asylum for ladies with fragile nerves. You will be kept here – on instructions from your parents – until we consider you are well again.”
“This is an asylum! I am not mad!”
He wagged a playful finger at her. “Ah, the mad never know it themselves. But you are in good hands here. If you behave yourself, you will be allowed to join our other guests in the evenings for quiet recreation.”
Rose made a frantic dash for the door, but Dr McWhirter stepped aside and his assistant grabbed hold of Rose, pinned her arms and threw her on the bed. Then they both left, locking the door behind them.
Frightened as she was, Rose could not cry. She was too furious for that. What on earth had possessed her parents to do such a wicked thing? She had heard stories of families who committed their relatives, sometimes to get their hands on a particular relative’s money.
But in her case, why?
And then she suddenly thought it was all because she had rejected that proposal of marriage. She was sure her parents had simply meant to teach her a lesson. But she had heard that these places charged high fees. Dr McWhirter probably meant to keep her locked up for life.
♦
The following morning, Harry drove Daisy out to Barnet and parked in front of The Grange.
“Now, Daisy,” he said, “don’t overact.”
“What an awful-looking place,” said Daisy.
“I showed you that place out on the road under the trees. I shall wait there with Becket all today and all night if necessary. If you and Lady Rose are not out by the morning, then I will come in after you somehow. I want to avoid making a scene if possible in case someone calls the police and Lady Rose is embroiled in a scandal again. Good luck, Daisy.”
“You can’t call me Daisy anymore,” she said with a show of spirit. “I am now Miss Levine, companion to Lady Rose.”
“Play your part and it will stay that way.”
Becket helped Daisy down from the car and pressed her hand warmly and she sent him a shy smile.
“How do
you know Dr McWhirter is here and not at his consulting rooms?” asked Daisy.
“I telephoned him. Marvellous invention.”
Before he could ring the bell, the door opened and Dr McWhirter stood there. “Welcome, Mr Carlisle,” he said. “And this is the little lady?”
“My niece, Liza.”
Daisy stood shuffling her feet.
“I think it is better if you go away, Mr Carlisle, and leave the young lady with us.”
“But what about the paperwork and fees?”
“I will telephone you. It is better to deal with the patient first and make sure she is happy and rested. Philips, take Miss Liza up to her room. Is that her luggage?” Daisy had packed a few belongings in a suitcase. “Leave it in the hall.”
Philips took Daisy’s hand. She went with him docilely enough, but half-way up the stairs she began to sing at the top of her voice:
Daisy, Daisy, give me your answer, do!
I’m half crazy, all for the love of you.
It won’t be a stylish marriage,
I can’t afford a carriage…
“Shut that row,” snapped Philips as they reached the top of the stairs.
But a voice from a room along the corridor finished the song:
But you’ll look sweet, upon the seat
Of a bicycle built for two!
Rose, thought Daisy. “In here,” said Philips.
“Are you my daddy?” whined Daisy.
He grinned down at her. “The only daddy you got now.” He thrust her into the room next to the one Rose’s voice had come from and closed and locked the door.
Daisy waited until she heard his footsteps retreating along the corridor. She unbuttoned one boot and slid out the thin skeleton keys, re-buttoned her boot and got to work. At first, she’d forgotten all Harry had taught her, but after a few deep breaths she attacked the lock again until there was a satisfying click and she swung the door open.
She peered cautiously along the corridor and then went to Rose’s door and got to work. She worked quickly with new confidence and soon had the door unlocked.
Rose, who was sitting on the bed, rushed into her arms and hugged her close.
“How? How did you get here? I heard you singing.”
“Never mind,” whispered Daisy. “Pooh, it smells bad in here.”
“They wouldn’t even let me go to the bathroom. I had to use the chamber-pot under the bed. I haven’t even been fed.”
“Shh! Come along quietly.”
They crept together to the top of the stairs and began their descent, both of them glad the stairs were so thickly carpeted. They stood together on the bottom step.
“Right!” said Daisy. “Straight for the front door as fast as we can.”
But when they got to the door, it was locked and barred. Daisy slid back the well-oiled bolts. She was still clutching her skeleton keys in her hand.
“I’ll soon get to work on this,” she whispered.
“Here, you two,” shouted a voice behind them.
They turned slowly and found Philips glaring at them. “Helga!” he shouted.
A female nurse came out of a side room. She was of the same build as Philips, heavy and menacing.
“Two of our little birds were trying to escape,” said Philips, “and the doctor’s just gone in to London.”
“Lock them down in the basement till he gets back,” said Helga.
Philips grabbed Daisy by the wrist and twisted the keys out of her hand. “A nasty little spy,” he said.
“I’ll have you in court for this,” said Rose and slapped him full across the face.
He hit her on the cheek so hard that she fell to the ground.
“Bastard!” said Daisy, helping Rose up.
“I’ll have some fun with you later,” sneered Philips. He took a thick blackjack out of his pocket. “Now, move.”
“Don’t protest,” said Rose, holding her cheek. “He could crack your head open with that, Daisy.”
A heavy door was opened at the back of the hall. A steep flight of steps led down.
“Get down with you,” growled Philips, “or I’ll shove you down.”
With arms around each other’s waists, they went down the stairs as the door slammed above them.
“I can’t see a thing,” complained Daisy.
“There’s a faint light below.” Rose released Daisy and went ahead, feeling her way down. The staircase curved towards the bottom.
“There’s a window, but it’s high up and it’s barred,” said Rose.
Daisy followed her down and they both stood in the basement and looked around. “It isn’t a cellar. It’s a storeroom. Look at all this luggage. It must belong to the other poor creatures in this hellish place.”
“We’ll never escape from here,” said Rose.
“I’ll try.” To Rose’s amazement, in the dim light from the overhead window, she saw Daisy was beginning to take her dress off.
“I’ve got files in my stays. The captain gave them to me.”
“Oh, thank God. He knows of this.”
“He’s outside and if we’re not out by morning, he’ll come for us.”
“Why doesn’t he just bring a gun and blast his way in?” said Rose bitterly.
“Because it’s better if we get away quietly. If he shoots his way in, if the police are called, think of the stories in the newspapers. You’d be damned as Mad Rose forever after, no matter what nasty things about Dr McWhirter are uncovered. Here. Help me off with my stays.”
Daisy slid out the files and then put her dress on again. “Now, how do I get up to that window?”
“We’ll need to stack up the luggage and climb up,” said Rose. Heaving and panting, using a cabin trunk as the base, they put suitcase after suitcase on top of it.
Daisy scrambled up and got to work on the bars with one of her files.
“Oh, Rose, this is going to take ages,” she mourned.
“I’ll look through the other suitcases,” said Rose, “and see if I can find something to use as a weapon.”
Daisy worked away diligently while below her, Rose opened case after case. “Nothing I can use so far,” said Rose. “How are you getting on?”
“Oh,” wailed Daisy as the file she was using snapped. “I’ll never do this. I’ve only got one file left.”
“Keep trying,” urged Rose. “Wait, move away from the window a little. I need light. I think there’s a candle here.” Daisy crouched down below the window.
“Yes, and a box of vestas.” Rose struck a match and lit the candle. “Good,” she said. “Now I can have a proper search.” For a while there was no sound but the steady rasp of the file. Then Rose, her voice quivering with excitement, said, “Daisy, you can stop filing. Come and see what I have found.”
Daisy scrambled down the ‘ladder’ of cases and joined her. “It’s a gun bag with a shotgun and cartridges,” said Rose, her eyes gleaming in the candle-light.
“Do you know how to use it?”
“Yes. I got one of the keepers to show me.”
“But how will that get us through the cellar door?”
“I’ll shoot a great big hole in the lock. Hold the candle high while I load this thing.”
Daisy watched, fascinated. “I never knew ladies had any useful skills at all,” she said.
“Some of us have. There! Now let’s cut bits off our petticoats to plug our ears. I don’t want to go deaf.
“Now I will fire and reload quickly in case I need to use this on Philips. Believe me, Daisy, I never would dream of killing anyone, but I will kill that man if he gets in my way. It’s a double-barrelled shotgun. Let’s give that door both barrels.”
Rose hurried up the stairs. Daisy, holding the candle, followed her. “Back off,” ordered Rose. “I’m going to fire.”
The resultant blast was tremendous. Not only was the lock shot but there was a jagged gaping hole in the door.
They rushed through. Philips came running down the stai
rs. Rose quickly reloaded the shotgun and turned to face him.
“Open the front door,” she ordered.
“You’d never use that on me,” said Philips. “That would be murder.” Because of the ear-plugs, Rose could barely hear what he was saying but she took careful aim and blasted a hole in the step below the one on which Philips was standing. He fell backwards. Rose reloaded. “Now,” she said, “open up.”
But he turned and rushed back up the stairs, shouting, “Helga!”
“That bitch looks as if she might have a gun,” panted Daisy. “Shoot the front lock.”
♦
Out on the road, Harry exclaimed, “Becket, I heard shots, coming from the house. We’d better go.”
Becket cranked up the motor and raced along at top speed of thirty miles an hour and into the drive of The Grange.
Rose and Daisy came sprinting down the drive, Rose carrying a shotgun. Behind them came Philips and two other men.
They stopped short at the sight of Harry.
“Get in the car,” shouted Harry.
Rose and Daisy leaped in. Becket turned the car and they drove off.
“I’ve left me stays,” said Daisy, and burst into tears. Rose hugged her. “I’ll buy you a whole shopful of stays.”
Daisy scrubbed her eyes with her sleeve. “With roses on the garters?”
“With anything you like.”
♦
At first Rose’s parents were outraged by being summoned to Scotland Yard. Surely Scotland Yard should come to them. But when Jarvis told them it concerned their daughter, Lady Polly summoned Humphrey, who was packing up Rose’s clothes, and they set out.
When Lady Polly saw her daughter sitting in Kerridge’s office, she let out a shriek of dismay. Rose’s left eye was nearly closed by the enormous bruise on her cheek.
“What on earth happened?” she cried.
In measured tones, Harry described Rose’s ordeal. When he had finished, he said, “Did you not consider it odd that Lady Rose should be admitted wearing only the clothes she stood up in?”
“They said to send her clothes the following day.”
“And what was she supposed to do in the meantime for clean linen or a nightdress?”
Lady Polly rounded on Humphrey. “This is all your fault!”
