mind. “Someone may have called for a doctor. Hilda, or a neighbor.”
“Yes. That is undoubtedly what has happened,” Lucy said, running her fingers through her snarly hair. “Oh dear, poor mother!”
Then her face took on the wild-eyed look that had become familiar to me. She took my hands in hers. “Oh, I am a terrible person. I am more worried that my affair has been found out than I am about my mother’s health; more concerned with it than with my poor friend, awakening alone in a strange place!”
Lucy’s eyes were wide and glassy, floating in the sockets above her gaunt cheeks. I was very cold and I knew by the burning lights above that the evening’s drama was not over. “We had better see what the trouble is inside.”
Lucy smoothed her clothes and checked her buttons. She brushed her skirt with quick little gestures, her hands like feathers. “Do I look composed?”
“More than I,” I said. “At least you are clothed. But you had better hide those marks on your neck and chest. I am assuming that Mr. Quince put them there?”
Lucy took the shawl from me and wrapped it around herself. “No matter what is said, or what questions are asked, leave the talking to me,” she said in a tone that was a far cry from the impassioned love victim of moments ago.
I had no choice but to believe in her. At school, while Kate liked to think of herself as the rebel, Lucy was the one whose quick tongue and blithe way of doing whatever she wanted put her above the rules. Kate was defiant, always making a spectacle of her disobedience, whereas Lucy felt entitled to do as she pleased and never expected anyone to stop her. I hoped she was still the girl who could get away with collecting money for candy and saying it was for the blind.
We walked up the stairs to the rooms and opened the door. The parlor was lit for company. A tea service sat on a pedestal table but the chairs flanking it were empty, as were the two divans that faced each other over a small, low table. The room looked like a theatrical set before the actors had arrived to begin the play. We ventured deeper into the parlor, where we heard voices from the hall. Mrs. Westenra appeared, a pink-and-white striped nightcap framing her face. She was followed by a night watchman in uniform.
“Merciful heavens,” she cried. “They are safe!”
“As I assured you, madam,” the policeman said. “During the summer months, young ladies like to stroll at night. No harm done, eh?”
“No harm? I nearly died from fright! What can you girls have meant by disappearing in the middle of the night? Lucy, are you trying to murder your poor mother? And Mina?”
The policeman stood behind the lady, his eyes averted. I suppose he was trying not to look at me in my nightdress.
Mrs. Westenra took a lap robe from the back of a chair and put it around me. “What is the meaning of wandering about in this unseemly condition?”
Lucy did not wait for me to answer but struck out on a defensive attack. “Mother, please calm yourself. Mina and I have been through our own nightmares this evening. Why is there a police officer here?”
“Why?” The lady looked in disbelief at the officer. Upon closer inspection, I saw that he was very young. His swallow-tailed coat with gleaming silver buttons, wide leather belt, and polished boots endowed him with authority that he did not yet own. I felt sorry for him having to deal with a distraught middle-aged woman prone to histrionics.
“Why?” Mrs. Westenra continued. “Because I woke in the middle of the night feeling poorly. I went into the bedroom to ask you to attend to me, Lucy, and I discovered an empty bed. At two o’clock in the morning! I did not know what to do. Hilda is spending the night at home, I was alone, and my heart-well, my poor heart. I thought I would die, it was pounding so loudly in my chest. I went to the window and screamed for help. I was shrieking like a madwoman. A kind gentleman sent word to the chief constable, who sent out a watchman-this delightful young man here-who has comforted a frightened woman. I might have succumbed to a full attack of angina had it not been for him. Why, he even mixed my medication for me. And perfectly so, I might add.” She smiled at him.
“You have been very brave, madam,” he said, adjusting the chin strap of his police helmet under his strong, square jaw.
Lucy stood tall, taking over the situation. “I cannot thank you enough, sir, for attending to my mother. Her condition causes her to become overemotional.”
Mrs. Westenra started to protest, but Lucy interrupted her. “It is all very simply explained. Mina suffers from the same sleepwalking malady as Father did. She has had some dreadful incidents recently in London, which she told me about the evening she arrived here. Isn’t that right, Mina?”
True to my promise, I nodded but kept silent, letting Lucy tell her story.
“I woke up and saw that she was not in the bed. From what she told me of her previous episodes, I knew that she could venture quite far, so I rushed outside. I should have left a note for you, Mother. I am very sorry, indeed. But I was desperate to find Mina before she came to any harm.”
“And are you quite all right now, miss?” the officer asked me. “Had you wandered very far?”
“Yes, to the churchyard,” I answered. “I go there every day because the view is so lovely. I suppose that my body simply led me there out of habit.”
“All the while in your sleep?” He looked suspicious now.
“Oh yes,” Mrs. Westenra said. “My late husband suffered the same illness. We used to discover him in the most unusual places. Sometimes he did not return at all but was found wandering the heath near our home in London.”
“Strange, indeed, madam. But I have heard of such things. My gran says that the spirits like to call out to us when we are asleep.” He smiled weakly, as if he did not know whether to believe his grandmother’s superstitions or not.
“Your gran must come for tea sometime when our friend Dr. Seward is here. He will set her straight on these matters,” said Mrs. Westenra, assuming the learned air I’d seen before when she had mentioned her discussions of medical affairs with John Seward. “It is the mind that imagines such things, the unconscious mind, which is a very different organ from the conscious mind. If you read up on the latest findings of medical doctors, you will see that I am correct.”
“I shall do that, madam,” he said politely, but smiling at Lucy. Because of his young age, I suspected that he wanted to win her good opinion, not her mother’s.
“Might we let this good man leave now so that we all can get some sleep?” Lucy’s technique for getting herself out of trouble had not diminished. She had lied to her mother and to the night watchman and was getting away with it. The officer was already taking steps toward the door.
“Lucy, dear, take the lamp to the top of the stairs so that our guest will have some light,” said the mother.
“Not necessary,” said the officer. But Lucy already had the lamp in her hand. When she turned around, her shawl fell from her shoulders, and the light illuminated the pattern of purple bruises and wound marks stippled against the cream white of her neck and chest. Against the bright lamplight, they were like roses flowering in the sun. Rings of tooth marks sat at the base of her neck, like red-rimmed eyes staring out at the world.
The officer squinted his eyes at Lucy’s neck. “Miss, were you attacked by someone?”
Lucy put the lamp down, but her mother picked it up, holding it up to her daughter’s face. The marks were even more awful in the brighter light offered by the proximity of the lamp.
Lucy put her hand to her throat. “What? No, of course not.”
Mrs. Westenra said nothing, but stared at her daughter’s neck. Rather roughly, she took Lucy to the mirror on the wall and turned her toward it, holding the lamp so close to Lucy’s neck that she jerked her face aside to avoid the heat of it. Lucy looked at her own reflection, and then shied away from it.
“You certainly look as if you have been attacked,” Mrs. Westenra said.
“Miss, if someone has hurt you, it will do you no good to protect him.” The officer now assumed the authority he had earlier lacked. “This is a peaceful place, and we do not take kindly to the sort of violence committed in London. If a lady is harmed in these parts, we find the culprit right away. We do not let him haunt our streets to commit more mayhem. You can be sure of that.”
“Lucy?” Mrs. Westenra seemed to be challenging her daughter. I was grateful that Lucy had made me promise to keep quiet. I was fearful for her, but at the same time I was curious to see how she would get out of this
