She sighs. "After she told Weeks about your plan, I don't know, maybe she felt guilty. Or maybe she realised what a fool she'd been. Alice told me that soon after I left she went funny, like she was having a fit, shaking and crying and carrying on. She wouldn't stop. They sent for Dr. Bull and he had her transferred."
We fall silent. Despite everything, I can't help feeling sorry. I sigh. "The things she said—about her baby—did you believe her?" I know I did at the time but now I'm not so sure."
"I didn't at first. Because that's what everyone said, Weeks, the doctors—they all said she were having delusions. But the more I saw her ... and the way she were with that doll..."
"Mmm. I'm surprised they didn't examine her when she arrived. They'd have soon found the truth of it."
Eliza gives me a meaningful look. "I've heard that Miss Hill's stepfather gave the asylum a great deal of money."
Of course. With a "generous donation," that man ensured that anything his stepdaughter said about him would not be believed. Poor Beatrice.
Eliza stirs. "It's time I were off, Miss."
"Yes."
"Is there anything else you want?"
"There is something..."
"What?"
"Would you—would you call me by my first name?"
She raises her eyebrows in her droll way. "I'll try, Miss." Her hand flies to her mouth and she giggles, an unexpected, delightful sound in this place. Then she straightens her face and looking at me, very deliberately says, "Louisa."
I stare at her.
"What's the matter?"
"You don't think I'm Lucy Childs. You believe me!"
"Yes."
"Why? No one else does."
She shrugs. "I don't know. I just do."
Three small words. So simple, so matter of fact. But making all the difference in the world.
I'm going to have to ask her. "Do you"—I stop, dizzy with fear of her answer. I swallow—"Do you think I'm mad?"
She looks at me in a considering way for so long, my heart races and the palms of my hands grow moist.
"Well, anyone looking at you now would think you were a right loony..." Seeing my face, she laughs and is immediately serious. "No, I don't and I never have done, right from the first time I saw you."
"Oh." That's all I can manage, but I feel lightheaded, almost giddy with relief. Impulsively I catch her hand. "You don't know how much it means to me—" I stop because Eliza's cheeks are reddening and I feel strange, as if I've said more than I meant.
For a moment we stare at each other and then Eliza says quickly, "I'll see you then. Soon as I can."
I've hidden the Fowler's Solution under my pillow—I don't need it now. Talking to Eliza has given me hope. I've been trying to eat more and I've taken to marching up and down the whole length of the gallery. Each day I can go farther, feel stronger. And I'm looking for ways out of here...
The next time Eliza visits, I can see immediately that something has happened.
She looks swiftly round the room. Scratton is occupied with someone at the far end; no other attendants are near. Flopping on to the bed without any ceremony, she pulls something out of her bag and thrusts it into my hand. "It's part of your papers. I got Alice to copy them, when she were cleaning the office."
I stare at her, my heart jumping in my chest.
"Go on then. Read it!"
I unfold the grubby piece of paper and scan the pencilled words written in a round childish hand.
"What do you think? I had a look but I couldn't make much sense of it."
"Listen." My throat is as dry as a rusk. Clearing it and keeping my voice down, I read the words to Eliza,
"1. Facts indicating insanity observed by myself:
An interest in medical matters inappropriate for one of her age and sex.
A neglect of appearance and personal toilet, and wearing unsuitable clothing for a young lady of her status.
2. Other factors indicating insanity communicated to me by others:
Excessive hook-reading and study leading to a weakening of the mind.
Desiring to ape men by nursing an ambition to be a doctor.
Self-assertiveness in the face of male authority.
Obstinacy and displays of temper.
Going about unchaperoned, for example, travelling to London alone in a third class railway compartment..."
With every word, with every line, my chest tightens and I grip the paper so hard it starts to shake. Tom! I see Tom's hand everywhere in this. But the words come to a stop. There's no signature. The thing I most need to see.
I go to speak, but Eliza gets there first. I've never seen her look so angry. "It's all wrong. You shouldn't be in here. Sounds to me like they're accusing you of being mad, just 'cos you weren't quiet and obedient, like a good little girl. Pah!"
I smile at her wryly and nod at the paper. "Is this all you have?"
"That's all Alice had time for. She heard someone coming."
"Do you think she'd..."
But Eliza is shaking her head. "It were hard enough getting her to do this much."
She grimaces and I wonder what it took. I can't see Alice doing anything out of the goodness of her heart.
Eliza adds, "She did mention she'd had a look at the signatures on this bit, but she couldn't make it out—it started with a "K" she thought."
Dr. Kneale! That day he came when I was wearing that old dress to do the cleaning...