The doctor continued to smile, but his eyes darted at her in distaste. ‘Shall we have your young ward removed?’ he asked.
‘No!’ said James, much too loudly, but DuQuelle appeared to be at his ease.
‘Not just yet,’ he said. ‘I’d like to see you examine her. She is a very interesting case, Miss Katherine Tappan.’ He lowered his voice. ‘She is the daughter of a very important American and a guest of the Royal Family. The distressing circumstances of the past few months seem to have reopened some nervous strain in her. The young doctor here has diagnosed nerves. I really did not know what to do. One could certainly not turn to the Queen . . .’
Katie stared at Dr Fox to see his reaction. ‘Our poor Queen,’ he sighed. ‘We all feel for her at this time of trial.’ He obviously didn’t know a thing about the woman holed up in his own institution. ‘Now, young lady,’ he said in his overly soothing voice. ‘Tell me a bit about yourself.’
Katie held her cloak tight and wrapped the hood around her face until only her eyes showed. ‘I am from New York City,’ she said.
‘Good, good,’ answered the doctor, smiling.
‘And I am from the twenty-first century.’ The doctor stopped smiling. ‘My mother has gotten divorced three times and has endless boyfriends. She’s always in the gossip columns, all over the internet,’ Katie continued.
By this time the doctor was frowning.
‘I think we’ve heard enough.’
‘She’s a pop star, well, was – she really is too old to parade around with all that bare skin, and in those skimpy sequinned . . .’
‘I said that is ENOUGH,’ Dr Fox barked out. James was staring at the toe of his shoe as if the cure for consumption was on the tip of it. He was dying of embarrassment.
DuQuelle, on the other hand, was entirely composed. He handed Dr Fox an envelope. ‘This should see to all her boarding costs,’ he said calmly. ‘Having heard the case, you will understand the need for confidentiality, bordering on secrecy.’
Dr Fox nodded his agreement. ‘You have nothing to fear on that account,’ he said. ‘We have patients even I do not see.’
DuQuelle shot Katie a knowing look. ‘I would let her roam the grounds a bit,’ he continued. ‘The exercise will do her good, and the landscaping here so eases a patient’s mental strain.’
‘That’s right,’ James agreed, ‘you shouldn’t lock her up. She’s usually much better than, well, what you just heard. I mean, that wasn’t acceptable, I know . . .’
James was obviously worried about Katie and DuQuelle had to pull him towards the door. Dr Fox was urging them on. Soon Katie would be alone. A wave of panic shot through her. She could hear the doctor, now in the hallway. ‘. . . really, most indelicate conversation . . . in the female a sign of lunacy . . . delusional . . . complete rest and seclusion . . .’
Above his murmurs came the voice of DuQuelle. ‘This patient must not be restrained in any way. She must be able to walk in the shrubberies at will . . . in the woods if needs be. Into the woods.’ These last words from DuQuelle were practically shouted.
The front door shut and soon after she heard the carriage drive away. For Katie, it was a lonely sound. Only then did she realize, they had made no plans to contact her, or organize a possible escape. She ran to the windows, hoping to see the last of the carriage. It was a large window, set in the grand façade, but it was closely set with thick iron bars.
When Dr Fox returned, he was not alone. Two women flanked him. They were large, and of a certain age. They did not increase Katie’s confidence.
‘I think I’ll go to my room now,’ Katie announced. ‘It’s been a long carriage ride. I’m kind of achy. And do you think I could have something to eat?’ Dr Fox stood in the doorway with his arms folded over his chest. ‘Well, thanks, you know, for having me here,’ she continued gamely. ‘I mean, you’re probably kind of full. Mimi, that’s my mother, she says everyone’s a little bit crazy. Especially Mimi, of course, she loves to see doctors. Used to date her therapist, Dr Fishberg, tried to run off with him . . .’
Katie was babbling. It’s what she did when she was nervous. And Dr Fox, with the two stout women, was certainly making her sweat.
‘Extraordinary,’ he finally said. ‘The indecency quite takes my breath away. She has lost all sense of modesty.’ He looked disgusted. The two women – Katie guessed they were orderlies – had perked up, as if they had a treat coming. ‘Well, we know exactly what to do with this type of over-excited patient. Miss Grimm, Miss Barren, I leave her to you.’
The moment Dr Fox left the room, the two women took hold of Katie. She screamed out, but they did not try to stop her. Why should they? The only people who could hear her were the other occupants of this house, and they had probably been through the same thing. Katie struggled, and one of the women kicked her hard in the shin, sending her legs flying. They wrestled her arms behind her and began stuffing them into something. With horror, Katie realized, it was a straitjacket.
‘How can you do that?’ Katie cried out. ‘Didn’t you hear James? I am not to be restricted. What kind of a hospital is this?’
They had Katie flat on her back now. One of the orderlies picked her up by the ankles, while the other lifted her shoulders. ‘You’d like to know what kind of a hospital this is?’ The larger one sneered. ‘It’s the kind of hospital for girls who ask too many questions. But we’ll get you calmed down. What you need is a nice bath.’ They dragged Katie up the stairs. She could hear voices, high-pitched and gibbering, coming from the hallways. Her plight had excited the other patients.
Bumping against the stairs and still protesting wildly, Katie was lugged to the very top of the house. It was freezing, and made more so by the large tin baths in the middle of the attic rooms. The orderlies unbuckled the straitjacket and, before she could fight back, had stripped Katie’s clothes from her. It all happened in such a rush. One moment Katie was thinking about dinner and bed, the next she was sitting in an empty bathtub.
She’d started out cold and now she was freezing. Katie’s teeth chattered and her limbs were goose-fleshed and blue. With sudden fierceness, one after the other, the women tipped buckets of ice-cold water over her head. It ran into her ears, eyes and nose. For a moment she thought she might be drowning. Then swiftly she was pulled from the bath, and a coarse linen gown yanked over her still wet body.
‘If that doesn’t calm you down, I don’t know what will,’ Miss Grimm commented with satisfaction.
‘A bit of bromide in your supper and you’ll be docile as a lamb,’ Miss Barren added.
Katie shuddered with the cold. Furious, she realized: she had been their treat. She was about to scream and yell, but there was no point. She said nothing, and was led away to her room. It was small, with a single bed and a very high, barred window. Katie noted with alarm that there was a stout ring in the wall. Miss Grimm nodded in its direction. ‘Sometimes we have to chain ‘em to the wall, a socklet ’round the ankle. Would you like that?’
Katie ducked her head. Best not look her in the eye. ‘No, ma’am’ she said.
Miss Grimm took Katie by the chin and jerked her head upwards. Miss Barren giggled. ‘What did you say?’
‘No ma’am, thank you ma’am.’ This seemed to be enough. The two orderlies left, taking the candle with them. Katie heard the door being locked from the outside. She was a prisoner.
The hours crept by, agonizingly slow. Katie had barely eaten in days, yet she hardly noticed. The cold overwhelmed everything. She wrapped her blanket around herself and curled-up tightly on the bed, but still she shuddered and shivered. There were curtains in her high little window. Katie thought about taking them down and wrapping them around herself. This, though, would certainly be viewed as an abuse of the hospital property, and she’d probably be punished. Strange sounds echoed through the building; murmurings rising into laments, scuffles and shouts that then subsided into silence. If you weren’t crazy to start with, this place would drive you to it, Kati
e decided.
She watched the winter light move across her window. It must have been around late afternoon when the orderlies returned. Miss Barren had a bundle of clothes. Katie noted with relief that they were warm and serviceable.
‘Put these on,’ Miss Barren ordered.
Katie decided it was best to follow all orders – that was the only way she would be let out of this cell-like room. She quickly pulled the clothes on and even made an attempt to tidy her hair.
‘You will take your meals with the other inmates,’ Miss Grimm said. ‘Let’s see how you like your new friends.’
Katie wasn’t at all keen on Miss Grimm’s sense of humor. But she kept this to herself.
The dining room was a large room, well-proportioned and clean. It would have been an attractive room, except that there were no pictures on the walls and no ornaments whatsoever. Katie guessed this was to keep the inmates from throwing things if they became violent. She was seated at a table with seven other women. Several of them gave Katie a quick glance, sizing her up. A few others looked into space, completely unaware of their surroundings. One dark-eyed girl stared at her, long and angrily. When Katie smiled at her, she only shook her head and spat upon the floor.
Within seconds the orderlies were upon the dark-eyed girl. ‘Hallooo!’ she cried, ‘what’s this? What’s this? Do you expect me to dine with the devil, Miss Gimlet Simlet?’ The girl was removed from the room, and she could be heard howling her protests as she was dragged down the hall. Some of the others moaned and giggled, but mostly there was silence.
Dr Fox entered in his dark frock coat and clerical collar. He was followed by his three sons, all doctors at the asylum, too. They bowed their heads and Dr Fox began a lengthy prayer. The women swayed or stared, picked their nails and bit their lips. Finally the food was brought – bread and cheese, stew and cold bacon. Katie’s table was silent. Some of the women ate ravenously, while other pushed the food around their plates.
Dr Fox and his sons sat at a separate table, directly behind Katie. They talked about the girls around them – one’s nonsense rhyming, the other’s suicide bid – as if the girls had no feelings whatsoever. Then the conversation moved in a more interesting direction: privacy for the most exclusive clientele. ‘Such a good idea,’ Dr Fox was saying. ‘The villas are perfect for the most refined of our patients, the most delicate situations. Why, in one villa, there is a woman of such a fine family, that even I cannot know her identity . . .’
‘It must be the Queen,’ Katie thought. Straining to hear more, she took a spoonful of stew.
Next to her, a sweet-faced girl of about her own age nudged her with a hurried whisper. ‘Don’t touch the stew.’
‘What?’ Katie asked.
The girl glanced around, making certain the orderlies were not watching.
‘The stew on your plate. Don’t eat it.’
‘Why?’
‘Bromide. It’s in the stew. It’s supposed to make you calm. Eat the bacon, or the cheese, but not the stew.’
Katie did as she was told. She turned to thank the girl, but found her looking up at the ceiling, singing quietly to herself.
Days passed and Katie heard nothing from either James O’Reilly or Bernardo DuQuelle. At night she began to wonder: had they actually decided she was insane? Were they going to leave her here? It was so easy for her to believe what Dr Fox was saying and to be undermined by the jeers and threats of the orderlies. It took every ounce of self-belief Katie had not to succumb. She followed her new regimen with due care, determined to win some simple liberties. Only then could she search for the Queen. And after her initial rebellion, Miss Grimm and Miss Barren found her a model patient.
Dr Fox was equally pleased, as DuQuelle had sent another packet of money. He was being paid double the normal amount to care for this submissive patient. He fancied the bromide was having an excellent effect. Within the week Katie was invited to play whist in the evening in the select patients’ parlour. After two weeks she was given leave to walk within the gated grounds.
There was still the problem of Miss Grimm and Miss Barren. One or the other was always attached to her. She could walk, with some liberty, but not alone. Katie discovered that, of the two, Miss Barren was the lesser evil. Poor woman, she wasn’t cruel by nature, just big and ugly and not very bright, with no money and no future. Katie tried to sympathize with her, and listened to her complaints about the inmates, her long working hours, and her loneliness.
‘It’s me mum’s birthday today,’ Miss Barren announced one day as they walked on the grounds. ‘She’ll be home, with me sister, having an easy day of it.’
Katie had never thought of Miss Barren having a family. ‘It’s sad that you can’t be with them,’ she said. ‘At least your sister is at home.’
‘She’s me twin,’ Miss Barren added. Katie looked up at the large bulky figure, the lank hair and the spotty complexion: so there were two of them . . . ‘I could be home,’ Miss Barren continued. ‘It’s only a half day’s walk. Only Dr Fox said I munent go. I mun be with you.’
Katie chose her next words carefully. ‘I don’t see why you need to be with me. I haven’t been any trouble, and I’m certainly not going to start now. We’re just going to wander around in the cold for hours, and then Miss Grimm takes over. Why don’t you go home? I’ll report to Miss Grimm at the right time. You’re not working again until tomorrow morning. You could be back by then.’
Miss Barren hung her head, thinking things over. She had so little in life, really just her mum and sister. But you were never supposed to listen to the lunatics. And if she got caught . . .
‘I bet there’s a cake for your mother. A nice plummy cake for tea,’ Katie added.
That decided it. With a list of warnings and threats to Katie, Miss Barren was over the high iron fence with surprising agility.
Katie calculated she had four hours before Miss Grimm came on duty. Where could Queen Victoria be? She reviewed the days, one melding into the other, that she’d spent at Brislington House. Every door led to yet another sad and hopeless woman. But there had been that snatch of conversation in the dining room. The Queen must be in an exclusive villa. Katie just needed to find it. So far she’d not been able to see anything from her small high window but endless woods.
‘Into the woods.’ Isn’t that what DuQuelle had said, twice, and as loudly as he could, just when he and James were leaving. That’s what she’d seen in her vision when she’d read the Queen’s note, dark and endless woods. She scanned the building behind her. She could see one lone face, a sad old woman staring down at her, but no doctors or orderlies. Katie passed the ornamental folly and side-stepped the shrubberies, forgetting DuQuelle’s instructions to leave a note. Wrapping her cloak tightly around her, she headed into the woods.
Chapter Twenty-One
The Secluded Villa
They were ancient woods, dating from the time of Henry VIII. The branches grew thick overhead, and even in leafless February blocked out the sun. The path was rutted and walking was difficult. Katie did not have proper outdoor boots. But she was heartened to see wheel tracks indented in the mud. Someone had come this way recently. After several wrong turns and dead ends, Katie saw something through the trees. As she came closer, the trees thinned out and a small house stood alone in the clearing. She stepped off the path and began to move through the trees. If the Queen was inside, she would not be alone. Katie had no wish to meet her guards.
The ground floor windows were closed and shuttered, but a dim light could be seen coming from the upper windows. Katie circled the house. On the back wall she found a wisteria vine spreading all the way to the roof. In the summer, the house must be covered in drooping purple flowers. For now it was bare, but the vine would serve its purpose. Planting a foot on its base, she began to climb. Katie had no fear of heights, but she’d never been any good with her arms. She’d been the only girl in gym class who couldn’t do even one pull-up. Mimi was always going on about upper bo
dy strength and toned arms. For once Katie wished she’d listened to her mother. Panting, she pulled herself up the vine, holding on for dear life. Her arms began to ache.
When she reached the first floor, she hooked her foot around the vine and leaning hard to the right, peered into the window. The room was lit and a fire burned in the grate. But it was empty. Katie knew her arms weren’t going to hold out much longer. She tried the window. It was closed, of course, but might not be locked. She caught hold of the sill, and gave the window a push, then a harder one. The wooden window frame was warped, and screeched as it gave way. Not exactly a sleuth-like entrance, she thought grimly, scrambling into the room and jamming the window back into place.
It was a bedroom, and someone had recently been in it. The lamp was lit on a small table, with a bit of crochet work under it. Katie looked around. The walls were hung with portraits and the tables covered in photographs. Drawings, pastels and engravings had been stuck up haphazardly, even pinned to the bed curtains. In every single one of them the subject was the same. He appeared in military uniforms, hunting attire, Scottish kilts, Roman togas and medieval armour: a tall slender man with silky brown hair and delicate mustachios. Everywhere Katie looked, Prince Albert stared back. The entire room was a shrine to him.
Katie whistled low. Maybe the Queen was crazy. But a sound in the next room sent her scurrying. She recognized the broken, querulous voice of the Queen. ‘Never has death touched one so lightly. Did you see him lying in the bed? So beautiful! And that is because he is not really dead. He has simply gone on before. It is but a physical separation. Soon I shall be with him.’
‘Yes ma’am,’ was the reply and the voice filled Katie with dread. It was the fawning affected voice of Sir Brendan O’Reilly. They were drawing near the bedroom. Where could she hide? The bed was heavily curtained, piled with blankets and pillows. Katie dived in and, flattening herself, tried to smooth the blankets on top of her.
The Chronicles of the Tempus Page 63
