A Drowned Maiden's Hair_ A Melodrama - Laura Amy Schlitz [35]
“She did a good deal better than well enough,” Hyacinth insisted, defending her protégée. “She did everything at exactly the right time, and she never giggled once. And her singing was perfect — neither too loud nor too soft.”
“Did we get the money?” inquired Maud, slathering her toast with marmalade.
It was the wrong thing to say. Hyacinth made a little moue of distaste. Victoria looked at Maud as if she were a dead mouse in the pantry. “Really, Maud!”
“Why shouldn’t she ask about the money?” broke in Judith. “What we do, we do for money. The child’s part of it now. She might as well speak plainly.”
Maud flashed Judith a look of astonished gratitude. She could scarcely believe that Judith, the strictest of the sisters, was taking up for her.
“Very well, then.” Victoria pushed her plate away. “We will speak plainly. Mr. Burckhardt gave us the money — enough to pay for doctors that Hyacinth doesn’t need and a bit more so that Hyacinth can travel to Cape Calypso for sea air. It seems that Mr. Burckhardt has forgotten that we own the cottage in Cape Calypso —”
“I didn’t remind him,” Hyacinth put in nimbly.
“— and gave us money for rent,” concluded Victoria. “So yes, Maud, we got the money. Quite a lot of it, since Burckhardt is as openhanded as he is foolish.”
Maud regarded Victoria warily. The older woman looked as if she had scarcely slept. Her hair was bundled up any old way, and her collar was open. Usually she wore a cameo with a lady’s head. Maud missed it. She wished Victoria would go upstairs and tidy herself up.
“Speaking of the cottage in Cape Calypso,” Hyacinth said silkily, “why don’t you tell Maud how we came by it, Victoria? Your morals weren’t always as dainty as they are now — were they?”
Victoria gave her sister one murderous glance. Then she rose so violently that her chair rocked back and fell over. Without another word, she swept out of the room.
Judith righted the chair. She frowned at her sister. “You go too far.”
“It’s such a waste,” said Hyacinth. “She used to be a perfectly good medium. Now she’s turned pious. It’s such a bad example for Maud.”
Judith jerked her head in Maud’s direction. “Do you really think she can play Caroline Lambert?”
“I’m sure of it,” Hyacinth said staunchly. “You should hear her read the part of Lord Fauntleroy — you wouldn’t think it, but she’s sweet. She’s quite the little actress.”
“Do you really think that reading Little Lord Fauntleroy will prepare her?”
“I don’t see why not,” Hyacinth answered serenely. “As long as she’s properly rehearsed, she ought to be able to play any number of angel children — female or male. She’s quite convincing as a boy, actually — makes Fauntleroy a bit less precious. It’s a pity no one’s lost a little boy.”
Maud leaned across the table. “Is that why we read Lord Fauntleroy? I thought we were just playing.”
Judith said slowly, “Hyacinth doesn’t play.”
“No,” agreed Hyacinth. “I wanted you to make a special study of Fauntleroy because he was an angel child. Sweet and pure and polite. Grieving parents always fancy they’ve lost a little angel child.”
Maud sat back in her chair, crestfallen. So that was what Hyacinth had meant in her letter: She will be our perfect little angel child. She had been alluding to Maud’s acting ability. It had been foolish to imagine that anyone, even Hyacinth, would consider Maud angelic. Maud felt her cheeks getting hot. She was glad no one knew the mistake she had made.
“Is she too boyish to play Caroline?”
“No,” answered Hyacinth, “and besides, Caroline Lambert was a little hoyden. Otherwise she wouldn’t have drowned.”
The word drowned got Maud’s attention. “Why did she drown?”
Hyacinth gazed across the table, out the window. Her eyes were dreamy.
“‘O Mary, go and call the cattle home,
And call the cattle home,
And call the cattle home,
Across the sands of Dee.’
The western wind was wild and dank with foam,
And all alone went she.”
There was a brief silence, followed by Maud’s “What?”
“A