Tell Me, Pretty Maiden (Molly Murphy Mysteries, #7)

“Of course I do. But it’s the only way. Once I’m in there, I’m sure I can find Jessie and manage to convince a kind doctor or nurse that a terrible injustice has been done.”


“You may not find a kind doctor or nurse. Some of the people who work there are the worst sort of bullies—those who delight in inflicting suffering on those with no voice and no power.”

“At least let me try it,” I said. “What have I got to lose? If a family member can commit a person, then surely you can claim to be my relative. You can have me admitted and then, a couple of days later, reveal who you are and why you admitted me. People will listen to you. I’ll be whisked out again and I can bring Jessie with me.”

“Jessie?”

“That is the girl’s real name. Jessie Edwards. She was a dancer in Connecticut.”

“Amazing. So not foreign after all?”

“No. It must be as Dr. Birnbaum suggested—that a great and horrible event robbed her of her senses and her power of speech.”

Elizabeth shook her head again. “Then what would happen to her if she was rescued from that place? The insane are not always easy to care for, you know.”

“I can help her, Elizabeth. My doctor friend is a renowned alienist and I have a devoted woman to be her nurse. The poor girl has suffered enough. I’ve got to do all I can.”

“Then why not let your doctor friend help her?”

“Unfortunately, he’s been called away, and I’ve no idea where or for how long. Don’t you see that a few days in a place like Ward’s Island might push somebody into madness forever?”

“Yes, I do see that,” she said.

“So won’t you help me? You can summon the wagon to have me taken away. Tell them I’m having delusions or I’m violent or even that I’m like Jessie and I’ve lost my memory and can’t speak.”

“Violent and delusional would be better,” Catherine said. “If you’d just lost your memory, any loving family member would take care of you until you regained it. I’d have to show that it was beyond my power to care for you and that you were a danger to yourself and others.”

“But not too dangerous, or I might be locked away from other inmates.”

“Very well,” she said after a long pause. “If you really want to go through with this, then I’ll come with you to your home and contact the asylum from there. It will look less suspicious than from a hotel. And you’ll need to pack a bag—only pack clothes you don’t care about losing, as they’ll probably be stolen from you if they are too fine.”

We took a cab back to Patchin Place. I went upstairs and threw my oldest night attire and undergarments into the bag. I wasn’t going to risk taking a change of dress. I didn’t own enough clothes to willingly sacrifice one outfit. I also packed my hairbrush and tooth powder, although whether I’d be allowed to use either was debatable. I unpinned my hair and made it stand out wildly, giving me a definitely mad appearance.

Then Elizabeth went to find a public telephone and I rehearsed my role. We had decided that I had become delusional. I was convinced that I was a foreign princess, being held captive by my sister Elizabeth, and that I kept trying to escape. That way I would not be deemed a danger to other inmates, but would be too much for my poor sister, given her own current health problems (we hadn’t quite decided on these, but we’d just hint).

Elizabeth returned, looking grave. “They will be here before the end of the day,” she said. “And they will be bringing papers for me to sign, committing you to the care of the state.”

“I see.” I swallowed hard. It suddenly sounded very real and very final. “And we’ll give it two days, shall we?” I added. “That should give me enough time to locate Jessie and make sure that she’s all right. And who knows, I might even have a chance to speak to a person who would listen to the truth.”

“Who knows,” Elizabeth said.

I thought of going over to Sid and Gus to say goodbye, but I had a suspicion that they wouldn’t let me go through with this. I wasn’t at all sure that I should go through with it myself. The sensible side of me kept saying that Doctor Birnbaum would be back in a few days and that he’d be able to rescue Jessie, but I couldn’t shake off this terrible feeling of dread and need for haste. What if he had gone back to Europe and stayed there for months? Something inside me whispered that if I didn’t get there soon, it would be too late. I wasn’t sure why those ruthless men had committed Jessie to the institution—maybe they had been tipped off about the police raid and wanted her safely stashed away. But maybe they could equally have bribed a guard to bring about her demise in a way that didn’t look suspicious.