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

Anyway, the wagon had been summoned. There was no going back now. And I had Nelly Bly working with me. She had done braver and more risky things than this and had survived. She’d make sure I stayed safe.

At four o’clock there was a hammering on the front door. I was just finishing a slice of bread and jam and a cup of tea. I leaped up, my heart hammering as loudly as those knocks. So this was it. Doom was knocking. I heard Elizabeth go to the door and heard her say, “She’s in here. She’s quiet right now, and I think she’ll go with you if you agree with what she asks you.”

Two men came into the kitchen. I looked up at them and recognized one of them from the time I stole Jessie. But I managed to keep my face in a worried stare and went on eating bread and jam as they handed Elizabeth papers to be signed.

“Molly dear,” Elizabeth said, as she handed the papers back to them, “these nice men have come to take you on a little trip.”

“I’m not Molly. I keep telling you,” I said. “I am Princess Alexandra.” I turned to the men. “They took me from my castle in England, you know,” I said. “Have you come to take me home and restore me to my royal seat?”

“Yes, that’s right.” One of the men dug the other in the ribs.

“Say Your Royal Highness when you address me,” I said.

Another dig in the ribs. “Oh, of course, your royal highness.” He smirked. “Now, come along nice and easy. We’ve got to make our way to the boat that will take you back to your palace.”

“Make sure she doesn’t escape during the trip,” Elizabeth whispered to them. “She’s become an expert at running away.”

“Then we’d better put on the jacket, Fred,” one man said to the other.

“Oh, I don’t think that’s necessary,” Elizabeth said quickly. “If one of you sits beside her and you keep the doors shut.”

“Best to be safe,” the first man said. “Fred here lost a patient a couple of weeks ago and he got in one hell of a row about it.” He produced a white canvas jacket and came toward me. I whimpered in alarm and backed away.

“It’s your royal robes, your highness,” he said, and slipped my arms into it, lacing it up down the back. Then, to my horror, I found that there was no opening for my hands. The laces were pulled tight and suddenly my arms were wrapped around myself in a tight hug. I shot Elizabeth a frightened glance.

“You’ll be all right, Molly dear,” she said. “These men will take good care of you.” But I could see that she looked worried, too.

“Let me give you a kiss,” she said. As her face came close to mine she whispered, “It will only be for two days, and I’ll try and check on you all the time.”

The men put big hands on each of my shoulders and marched me out of my door and down the alley. Then they literally bundled me into the back of a wagon. I heard the doors close with grim finality, shutting out all light, as I sat on the hard bench. I was almost hurled to the floor as the wagon took off and had no way of steadying myself. I pressed myself into a corner and tried to stay upright. It wasn’t easy and when I slipped down to my knees, I stayed there on the floor, rather than risk another fall.

After what seemed to be an eternity the wagon came to a halt. I heard the sound of the door opening. “Come on, get out,” one of the men shouted, no longer gentle and kind. He grabbed at my arm and yanked me down to the ground, where I fell to my knees again. This time he grabbed my hair and made me stand up.

“You’re hurting me,” I protested.

“You’d better get used to it, sweetheart,” he said. “Now march. The boat’s at the end of the dock.”

This was no friendly little rowboat but bigger and enclosed. They half-carried, half-pushed me onto the deck and inside a nasty little cabin. Then they shut the doors again, leaving me in complete darkness as the boat chugged across the narrow stretch of water. I almost fell over as we bumped against another jetty. Then the door opened and this time there were warders in uniform, looking remarkably like prison guards.

“Come along then. Get moving,” one of them said. They grabbed me and marched me between them from the dock to that big front door. It opened. I was taken inside, and the door clanged shut behind me. I was an inmate in an insane asylum, whether I wanted it or not.





FORTY-ONE

Without having time to catch my breath, I was hustled down a long tiled hallway and another heavy iron door was opened with a key. I was shoved through into a holding area. It was dank and cold and the only small window had bars on it. There was a bench along one wall but I paced rather than sat. Time went by. Outside the light was fading. I began to worry that I’d be held in a solitary cell like this and never have a chance to talk to Jessie.

Then I heard the tramp of approaching feet and then a hatchet-faced woman in a nurse’s uniform and another man who looked like a prison guard came in.

“Name of Murphy,” the nurse said, looking up from a clipboard. “Committed by sister. Delusional and tries to run away.”