A Drowned Maiden's Hair Read Online Free PDF Page B

that mean —” began Maud again. Victoria and Judith were looking at her with something like pity. “I wouldn’t be noisy,” Maud promised. “I’d just say how sorry I was.”
    “She wouldn’t like that,” answered Victoria. “I’m sorry if you’re disappointed, dear, but there are times when it’s best to leave Hyacinth to herself.”
    It was not so very difficult, Maud found, to be perfectly good. During the next two days, she practiced taking small bites at the table and doing meekly what she was told. She said “yes ma’am” and “no ma’am,” and folded her clothes when she took them off. Judith showed her over the house, paying special attention to the passages that led to the back staircase. “If you hear the doorbell or any voice that isn’t familiar, you must tiptoe, quick as you can, to the back stairs. Then sit down, take off your shoes, and carry them with you. Go upstairs in your stocking feet.”
    Maud agreed to do this. With a straight face, she demonstrated how stealthy she could be. She did not ask questions. Later Victoria showed her through the third-floor rooms, most of which were empty. One large room, which had been the nursery, contained Victoria’s old dollhouse, an elaborate building almost as tall as Maud herself. To Maud’s surprise, Victoria seemed quite willing to share her dollhouse with Maud. The old woman became quite animated as she took out tiny chairs and tables and wiped them clean with her handkerchief. The dolls, Victoria explained, had all been lost, but Maud might rearrange the furniture as much as she liked. Maud thanked her dutifully. Just in time she realized it would not be tactful to say that she saw no point in moving around little bits of furniture.
    The hardest thing about Maud’s first week in her new home was that Hyacinth remained in her room. Judith and Victoria were adamant: Hyacinth was unwell, and she wished to be left alone. Maud could not see her. Maud said, “Yes, ma’am,” but her obedience was flawed. More than once, she tiptoed to the door of Hyacinth’s room and listened for sounds from within. There were none. The silence made her uneasy, as if a Hyacinth that could remain so still were somehow a different Hyacinth.
    On the third day, the boxes arrived from the department store. Maud stripped off her asylum clothes with glee. Once clad in her red wool dress, she made up her mind: Hyacinth must see her new finery. She would slip up the back stairs when she was supposed to be walking in the garden. There were three stunted daffodils by the brick wall; she would steal them and smuggle them up to Hyacinth.
    Her plan worked perfectly. She plucked the flowers, slipped indoors without anyone seeing her, and tiptoed upstairs. Without knocking, she turned the doorknob and stepped inside Hyacinth’s room.
    It was white and shining, like a palace. There were lace curtains at the windows and a lace canopy over the bed. The crystal chandelier was lit, though the day was only slightly overcast. Four mirrors, surrounded by gold cupids and rosettes, tossed the light back and forth, reflecting one another’s reflections. Hyacinth, in a pale blue bed jacket, rested against the pillows. Her finger against the satin counterpane looked faintly pale and tapering as icicles. The mirrors multiplied her fingers: ten, twenty, eighty — all still.
    “Maud!” Hyacinth’s eyes flew open. She sat up and leaned forward, hands held out. “Maud, you darling child! You came to see me!”
    Maud was flooded with happiness. Judith and Victoria had been wrong. Hyacinth did want to see her. “I brung you these,” she said, losing her grammar in her eagerness. Shyly she held out the daffodils, with their mud-splashed trumpets.
    “Have you been out in the garden, then?” demanded Hyacinth, as if the garden held some incomparable treasure. “Do you like it?”
    “Yes,” lied Maud. “I’ve been missing you, though.”
    “Have you?” Hyacinth took the flowers