The Heiresses

by Allison Rushby

  Clio frowned. “But what did they do there? There are no … madmen or madwomen, are there?” She couldn’t stand the thought of Thalia being locked up as her aunt had been.

  “No, not at all. It’s not like that at all—it’s for intemperance only. And it’s voluntary. There is no ‘locking up.’”

  Clio thought about this for a moment, part of her hesitating. After all, Edwin’s actions had let her down before. “I’m not sure. Would she want to go?” There was something inside her that led her to believe she could trust Edwin on a matter such as this.

  Edwin ran a hand through his hair. “At this point,” he said, “I don’t think she has many options.”

  * * *

  By evening, it was all arranged. After speaking to the doctor in question on the telephone, and much thought, Clio had begged Edwin not to involve her in any way other than monetary. If Thalia knew she had sanctioned her referral to any sort of institution, she would undoubtedly refuse to go. They would act as if this were Edwin’s idea only. Edwin had wanted her to inform Hestia of what was going on, but Clio knew she could not do this. Hestia would never agree to any sort of “home” offering any sort of “treatment.” Not after what she had been through herself. This was despite the fact that they were all living in a different time and place and the doctors involved were using modern, effective methods, rather than barbaric, cruel ones. In the end, Clio had taken money from the drawer in the library—so much money she found it difficult to breathe while holding it—and pressed it upon Edwin. “Please,” she had told him. “Please. We need to be discreet. For Thalia’s own good. I’ll visit her when she’s ready. Every day.” Then she had packed a small case for her sister and sent Edwin on his way, swearing him to secrecy.

  When both Ro and Hestia had returned to the town house that day, Clio had lied furiously. She told them she had seen Thalia, that she seemed well, and that she was off on a short visit to a friend’s house in Surrey. Throughout dinner, Clio tried to recall how many untruths she had told recently—more, she thought, than she had ever told in her entire childhood. She had not needed to lie back in the village. But now, here, in the city, she was starting to hear the most brazen rubbish exit her mouth with ease and it frightened her. She even thought to place one of the library’s squat books beneath the money that remained, thus filling out the drawer once more. This was the depth that she stooped to these days. Was she doing the right thing by Thalia? Clio wasn’t sure. She wasn’t sure of anything anymore. This gray city clouded her judgment. It was as if it drew a hazy fog that wrapped itself around her thoughts, slowing her down, confusing the path she must take. Not even quiet prayer or reflection seemed to help here—there was so much noise, so much distraction. She couldn’t think here, in the city.

  But she must think. Just for a few hours more. And so, after dinner, Clio retired to her room, sat down, and wrote out her letter to Nicholas in full. When she was finished, she pushed back her chair without hesitation and set off for the closest postbox, eager to push the stamped envelope through the scarlet slot and see it on its way. Never had she been more certain that London was not the place for her, just as the doctor had told her their damp country cottage was not the place for her mother, either.

  * * *

  “She went very willingly,” Edwin told Clio on the telephone the following day. Relieved to hear that Thalia was all right, Clio sank down onto the small cream-upholstered bench seat that was tucked into a corner by the telephone. “Much more willingly than I thought she would. I … I think perhaps she didn’t tell me everything that happened.”

  “I think a lot of things have happened to Thalia that she’s never revealed, or maybe even acknowledged properly. Not even to herself,” Clio replied, hoping that her sister might find some peace during her stay at this so-called nursing home.

  There was a long silence before Edwin spoke again. “I think you might be right. Only…”

  “What is it?” Clio’s voice sounded suddenly guarded.

  “Well, I don’t think you should visit her. Not just yet. Give her some time, Clio. I can check in on her again if you like. Tomorrow. It’s just that she said a few things…”

  “About me? About Ro…?” Clio sat bolt upright on the seat.

  There was another pause from Edwin. “Yes. It was the same for my friend at first. He was very … angry. Perhaps if you could give her some time to calm herself down. To stop blaming others…”

  Clio considered his words for a moment and immediately saw that Edwin was right. “If I go now, she’ll think that I’m gloating.”

  On the other end of the telephone, Edwin breathed an audible sigh of relief. “I’m so glad you understand. I do think it would be for the best. And I promise that I’ll go and see her.”

  “You won’t forget?” Clio asked anxiously. “I could never live with myself if she felt abandoned there. Not after the things my aunt has told me. She felt so terribly abandoned when she was…” She let her words trail off, not wanting to speak of the matter.

  “I promise you, Clio. Solemnly. I will visit her. And I will report back.”

  Slowly, silently, Clio nodded, her eyes filling with tears. “Thank you, Edwin. Thank you for being such a good friend to Thalia. And to me.”

  “I was hoping that you might consider us being more than friends…,” Edwin said hesitantly.

  But Clio did not hear him, the shiny black Bakelite handset of the telephone already making its way from her ear, as her tears threatened to spill over.

  * * *

  For the next two nights, Edwin reported in dutifully. He telephoned Clio at exactly eight o’clock so she would be able to hover over the telephone and answer it herself in the privacy of the library, without Haggis McTavish alerting the whole household that someone had called with his incessant barking. On the second night of Thalia’s stay, Edwin hadn’t sounded terribly hopeful.

  “I think she may have been indulging more than we originally thought—with both morphine and cocaine. Her symptoms are worse than expected, I’m afraid.”

  Clio had bitten her lip for a moment, before asking. “What sort of symptoms?”

  “Nausea, not eating, having to run to the loo every five minutes. And she’s quite … irritable.” He gave a short laugh with this. “So at least we know the old Thalia’s still in there somewhere.”

  “Oh, dear,” was all Clio was able to reply, unable to find any humor in the situation.

  On the third night of Thalia’s stay, Edwin had sounded a little more optimistic. “Her doctor says she should be over the worst of it by tomorrow. She did seem a little better today. She’s eating now and keeping it down, too. I think, perhaps, you could go and see her, Clio. Tomorrow.”

  * * *

  Clio stared out the window of the train, fidgeting nervously throughout the entire long journey to Richmond, in Surrey, on the hard, upholstered seat. Alighting from the train, she took Edwin’s directions from her pocket and walked the short distance to the nursing home, becoming even more nervous with each click of her heels upon the pavement. She knew without a shadow of a doubt Thalia would not be pleased to see her. After all, she had never been pleased to see her before. She was hardly about to start now, in her current state, was she?

  On arriving, Clio was directed through the premises (which, she breathed a sigh of relief, were lovely—light and bright and airy, without a raving person in sight) and out into a vast expanse of beautifully manicured garden. A small pond was situated to one side and several ducks cavorted in the sunshine. Normally, Clio would have smiled at their antics, but not today. She must have looked lost, because a nurse approached her almost immediately and pointed out Thalia sitting, curled up in a deck chair, half-wrapped in a blanket and smoking like a chimney in the middle of a carpet of lush green lawn.

  “Well!” Thalia glanced over as she saw a figure approaching. “Look who’s here!” She uncurled her legs from the chair. “Edwin told me you might come today.”

  Clio wa
sn’t sure whether or not she should sit down in one of the nearby deck chairs, or whether she was even going to be invited to. “Are you … all right? Here, I mean. Are they being kind to you? Helping you?”

  “Oh, yes. It’s all very jolly. And practical. I should take more exercise and eat more stewed fruit, you know!”

  “That sounds…” Clio trailed off. She wasn’t sure what it sounded like, to be honest. Her eyes flickered around the grounds of the nursing home, still slightly worried about the other patients.

  Thalia, of course, picked up on this in an instant. “Don’t worry,” she said. “No one’s going to attack you. I think. Oh, for goodness’ sake, Clio, sit down.”

  “Well,” Clio said. “All right, then.” And, with this, she sat down, perching gingerly on the deck chair across from Thalia.

  “We really should get down to business,” Thalia said.

  Clio sat so far forward on the deck chair now that she almost tipped over. “Business?”

  “Yes, business.” Thalia bent down to stub out her cigarette on the grass. “I must admit I was a little busy for a few days there attending to my own health, but it didn’t take me long to see who was behind all of this.”

  Clio’s eyes widened with Thalia’s accusation. “All of what? What do you mean?”

  Thalia swept one hand over the garden and nursing home. “All of this. I take it this is some sort of final attempt of yours to take me out of the running once and for all. I suppose you’ve told Charles already…”

  “What?” Clio couldn’t believe what she was hearing. “Thalia, don’t be ridiculous. I haven’t told Charles anything. I haven’t seen him. I only saw him that one time without you. Anyway, what would be the point? Charles has told all three of us he wants nothing more to do with us.”

  Thalia did not acknowledge this statement. “I have only one question. Was this your idea alone, or did Ro come up with it? I’m sure it came from her. After all, she’s the brains of the three of us, isn’t she? So, am I right? Was it her idea and you’ll split the money between you?”

  Clio shook her head. “Thalia, it’s not like that. You’re imagining things. Ro doesn’t even know you’re here.”

  Thalia sighed. “You won’t admit it. Well, I can’t say I blame you. And I suppose there’s no point in arguing about it now. Really, it’s all right. I practically admire you for sticking me in here and running off to Charles for a last-ditch attempt. It’s very clever of you. I’d have done the same thing given the chance.”

  Clio tried to remain calm. “You’re not listening. I would never do that. Yes, it’s true, when Edwin suggested this place I thought it was a good idea. Because you need it. But you’re my family, Thalia. I would never tell tales about something like this or use it for my own gain.”

  Thalia roared with laughter at this. “You do so love to believe in a family, Clio, don’t you? It’s so sweet. You know, I’ve never really told you much about my family, have I? Would you like to hear a little story? About family?”

  Clio wasn’t at all sure she wanted to hear what Thalia was about to say, but nodded anyway, her stomach already clenching at the thought of what Thalia might admit to.

  Thalia lit another cigarette before continuing. “Well, in a household full of boys, I was ignored if I was lucky. If not, I was teased mercilessly. Then, one day, I suppose I must have grown up, because when James and one of his friends came home from school for the holidays, they somehow treated me differently. They’d both been there for a few days when it happened. In the middle of the night, in my bed, I woke up to someone on top of me—James’s friend as it turned out.”

  Clio sucked her breath in.

  “Yes, just like a Greek myth, really, isn’t it? They’re full of rape. I’m sure Ro would give us all the details on that account.”

  “Thalia, don’t make light of it,” Clio said, finally finding her voice. Her sister’s breezy tone made what she was saying even more vile.

  Thalia ignored her plea. “To tell you the truth, I didn’t really understand exactly what was happening at first. I was fourteen and, I’m ashamed to say, extremely naïve. I just knew that it hurt and that, in the morning, I was bleeding. I also knew that I wouldn’t let him do it to me again. So, that night, I took my nail scissors and put them under my pillow. And when he came into my room once more, I stabbed him.”

  Clio gasped now, her hand at her mouth.

  “Oh, for heaven’s sake, Clio, don’t be so dramatic. He didn’t die. I stabbed him in the arm. Unfortunately, he survived with only a few stitches. In hindsight, I wish I’d stabbed him in the groin.”

  “And what did your aunt and uncle do to him?” Clio waited for Thalia to tell her they had called the police.

  “Why, nothing, of course!” Thalia replied.

  “But didn’t they…?”

  “Clio, you are four years older than I was at that point. There’s no excuse for you to be so naïve. What do you think, that they would have invited scandal into the house? No, they packed him off home, then James went back to school the following week and that was that.”

  “But what did James say? What did he do?”

  “I have no idea how much James really knows, to be honest. Surely he could not have believed that ridiculous story about tripping on the edge of a rug? But then again, maybe he did? Or he might have guessed that his friend hurt himself, obviously lied about how it happened, and was packed off home in disgrace. Or he might have offered me up to his friend in the first place. I really have no idea.”

  “Thalia, that’s terrible. You—”

  “Oh, but wait. I haven’t finished yet,” Thalia interrupted, cutting Clio off with a flick of her freshly lit cigarette.

  Clio stopped talking.

  “About ten weeks after all this happened, I was summoned into my uncle’s study and there was a nurse there. At least, she was dressed like a nurse. Now that I think about it, she probably wasn’t a real one. Anyway, I was instructed to drink some medicine—‘ergot,’ it read on the bottle. Sick-making stuff, really. I asked what it was for and the nurse told me it was to make me ‘clean.’ Well, if there was anything I wanted after that whole episode it was to feel clean again, so I drank up the disgusting concoction quite willingly and then the nurse took me to my room. When we got there, she informed me cryptically that the pains would start later that evening. And she was right. They started that evening and lasted for two weeks. Until I almost died of blood poisoning. When it looked like I actually might die, they sent me to the hospital at the last minute because the nurse said she would call the authorities if they didn’t.”

  Both of Clio’s hands rose to her cheeks now, horrified.

  “Yes, I was pregnant. I really was ridiculously naïve, as I said. I had no idea. I’ve often wondered how they knew. I suppose they were watching out, just in case. One of the housemaids must have alerted them when I wasn’t quite as ‘regular’ as usual. You know, it all feels rather odd talking about it now. It feels like a terribly long time ago. Almost as if I made it all up.” She looked at Clio sharply now. “Though I haven’t.”

  Clio knew instinctively that Thalia was telling the truth. She didn’t doubt her for a second. “I don’t know what to say, Thalia.”

  “No, I don’t suppose you do.” Thalia reclined in her chair and stared up at a passing errant cloud. “Still, now you know my story. It’s why I’m here, isn’t it? Oh, it’s all so simple—masking the problems of my childhood with drugs and drink. I can see that as well as anybody. But the thing is, I have to want to stop, don’t I? I have to want to look after myself and live to a ripe old age. But do I want to? I really don’t know. Maybe I’m more like my awful Aunt Elizabeth, shut up in her room, than I like to think. She can’t help herself and neither can I. Now that I think about it, I believe the same sort of thing might have happened to me the other night as happened those four years ago. Thankfully, however, this time I was too drunk to remember the details. So, maybe I don’t care after all an
d this is how I end up—repeating the same situation again and again, spiraling into the abyss.”

  “Stop it!” Clio burst out suddenly. “Thalia, stop.” She reached out and grabbed Thalia’s hand, grasping it hard, so she couldn’t pull away. “Whatever’s happened now, it’s not like the last time at all, because Ro and Hestia and I, we care. We all love you very much. I don’t mind what you say to me, I’m not going anywhere. I’m going to come here. Every day. I’m going to wait and watch until you get better. However long it takes. You must decide to care, Thalia, because we care.”

  “How sweet of you.” Thalia stared at her impassively. “Oh, look,” she said as she motioned with her free hand toward a nurse, who had started to hover in the background. “It’s time for you to go. I’m only allowed visitors for a half hour, you see, lest it all become too much for me.”

  Clio released her sister from her grasp and stood up hesitantly. “I’ll return tomorrow, as I said.” Her brow furrowed before she continued. “Do you … do you want me to tell Ro and Hestia what you’ve just told me?”

  Thalia stood from her own chair now, the blanket still wrapped around her. She began to walk off toward the nursing home itself, without even a backward glance. “Do what you like, darling,” she said, not pausing in her step. “I really don’t care either way.”

  * * *

  “Clio, what on earth is the matter? You’ve been miserable for at least a week now.” Hestia dabbed at her mouth with her napkin, finished with her breakfast.

  Seated across the table from her aunt, Clio panicked. “Miserable? No I haven’t.” She pushed the last of her toast in her mouth, hoping to appear somewhat normal—as if she were simply going about her everyday business.

  “Yes, you have. Not to mention scruffy. Haggis McTavish is in better condition.”

  “I did give him a bath yesterday,” Ro mentioned. “To be fair, he probably looks better than Clio now.”