There was no reason for Maud to succumb to these dark moods, and what she had to be macabre about, Thomasina did not know. The child wanted for nothing: she had a beautiful house to live in and a devoted lover and friend to share her bed. The pity was that innocent unworldly Maud did not know just how adroit and practised a lover she did have. Thomasina could have named half a dozen females who would not have been a quarter as skilful as she was with Maud!
But as is so often the way with these matters, Maud’s very prudishness made her even more alluring. That reluctance, that air of not really liking being made love to, of having to be seduced every time was irresistible. A challenge. Thomasina had the feeling that if Maud were suddenly to become eager, she might lose all interest. But for the moment…for the moment it drove her wild, and she could hardly keep her hands off the child.
But how far could Maud be considered as the key to Quire’s future?
As things stood, if Thomasina died Quire would pass to her cousin Simon, always providing he had not drunk himself into an early grave or a debtors’ gaol, either of which were possible. The thought of Quire in Simon’s reckless hands was a bad one, in fact Thomasina would almost rather see someone like that reprobate Cormac Sullivan have the place. There would not be a pheasant left in the woods, of course, and goodness knew the kind of ladies who might be imported into the bedrooms, but Cormac would keep up all the old traditions because he understood about houses and land and would be a far better trustee than Simon.
The only other solution was for Thomasina to marry and have a child of her own. This was out of the question. Not only was the thought of being in bed with a man utterly repulsive, the knowledge that she would have to yield to a man’s authority was repulsive as well. No, marriage was not to be thought of, even with the prospect of a son of her own.
But the idea of a child–a son–would not go away. Was there any way a child could be acquired without Thomasina marrying? How could it be contrived? Who could its father be? For a wild moment the image of the cat-faced child in Seven Dials rose up before her eyes, and she could almost see the son the girl would have: strong and tough and rebellious. The girl would probably do it as well if Thomasina paid her enough, and she could find her easily enough: she had her address on a half sheet of paper, which she kept discreetly at the back of her bureau.
But if there was to be a child it had better be Maud’s, although Maud would have to be coaxed to take part in the conception, never mind endure the birth. Still, there were ways of breaking down the resistance of a shrinking prudish virgin. Not violence, of course, nothing so crude, but perhaps something discreetly stirred in Maud’s food that would make her drowsy? Nothing harmful. There was laudanum which was easy enough to obtain, or even opium which was smoked in certain London clubs. Simon might know how to get hold of opium, or there was the ramshackle house in Seven Dials. A smile lifted the corners of Thomasina’s lips at the thought. The occupants of that house would certainly be able to get opium, although the cat-faced girl would charge at least triple for it. There would be some reason for needing the money–the girl always had a good reason: a sister who was sick was a favourite one.
And then Simon wrote to say he was utterly destitute again and his creditors were chasing him all over London. If there was any possibility of his dearest Thomasina helping him out–for old times’ sake and all that–he would be eternally her slave, and would do anything she asked of him.
Anything she asked.
The plan slid as sleekly and as smoothly as a serpent into Thomasina’s mind.
Latchkill Asylum for the Insane
Day Book: Sunday 26th September
Report by Nurse Bryony Sullivan