Maud had been worried about the actual arrival at Toft House because there was a sign on the gateposts proclaiming the name, and Nell Kendal was expecting to be brought to Quire House. But her most pressing concern was that the bodies of George and Mrs Plumtree might have been found. It was barely twenty-four hours since she had gone into their bedrooms and smothered them, and discovery was not very likely, but Maud was keeping the possibility in mind.
It was a relief, therefore, when the pony trap she hired at Chester railway station jolted its way up the lane, and she saw that Toft House was completely in darkness. And the gatepost sign was easy: she simply drew attention away from it by pointing to the house, and saying that Miss Forrester was at the infirmary, making the arrangements for Nell’s treatment. She had hoped Miss Forrester would be back by now, said Maud, but clearly she was not.
Once inside, it was clear Nell did not like the house. Her eyes were huge and scared, and she kept glancing over her shoulder every few minutes.
Maud said, briskly, that Nell could wash and tidy herself in the bathroom, and there was a bedroom at the back of the house where she would sleep. The bathroom was at the far end of the upstairs passage, beyond George’s bedroom, and as they went past it, Nell Kendal seemed to shiver. This was ridiculous: she could not possibly know what lay beyond that door, but Maud had a sudden disturbing vision of George (whom she no longer thought of as ‘father’), twisted and contorted on the bed, his eyes staring sightlessly upwards. Didn’t people’s bodies stiffen like wooden boards when they were dead?
She pushed this from her mind, and sat down to wait in the deep window at the half-turn of the stairs. Once it had been the place where flower-like girls sat out dances in the days when Toft House had hummed with life, but Maud could only remember it being used for the cleaning women to put their polishing rags and beeswax when they cleaned the stairs. Tonight it would be where she would put one of the oil lamps, because it looked out over the high road, and a light up here would be seen for miles, and Maud wanted people to see lights here tonight. Some time during the next few hours, her escape from Latchkill would be discovered, and as soon as that happened, they would come out to Toft House to talk to George Lincoln. That they had not done so yet was apparent from its dark silence. Even so, she had better work swiftly.
She took Nell back downstairs, saying it would soon be time to set off. A carriage would come, she said. It felt quite strange to be talking into the silence like this, and receiving no response. But Catherine–Cat–had said her sister could hear and understand, even though she could not speak. Even so, it was disconcerting to be with someone who knew what you were saying but never replied.
She brought Nell a glass of milk and a plate of biscuits. The pills, squirrelled away in her handkerchief while she was in Latchkill, went into the glass–Maud was pleased to see that they dissolved almost at once. Within ten minutes of drinking the milk, Nell was dazed and sleepy, and submitted to being led back to the drawing room, and to the window seat. She could wait there, said Maud. She would be able to see the carriage when it came.