A Drowned Maiden's Hair_ A Melodrama - Laura Amy Schlitz [52]
But Hyacinth did not come. Maud sagged against the wall of the map cupboard in a stupor of pain and stickiness and heat. Outside the door, the Hawthorne sisters continued to soothe their wealthy client. Mrs. Lambert must have a glass of sherry or a cup of tea. Mrs. Lambert must not go home by herself — Victoria must accompany her. Hyacinth would call the next day to make sure that she was well. . . . The leave-taking seemed to go on for hours. When at last Victoria and Mrs. Lambert had departed and the door of the map cupboard opened, Maud stumbled out so eagerly that she almost fell.
The light in the room was dazzling. The room looked bright and tidy and civilized. Hyacinth and Judith were staring at her.
“Goodness gracious!” cried Hyacinth. “What on earth —?”
“Had a dosebleed,” mumbled Maud, clasping the ever-diminishing block of ice to her face. “I wocked indo de door —”
“Great heavens!” Even Judith’s sangfroid was ruffled. The look on her face told Maud just how grotesque she must look.
“For heaven’s sake! The poor child will bleed all over the carpet,” said Judith, while Hyacinth sympathized, “Oh, poor Maud!” But there was something wrong with the way she said it, and she didn’t rush forward to clasp Maud in her arms. Maud understood why — no sensible woman would want bloodstains on her best tussore silk — but Hyacinth’s aloofness was the last straw. Maud opened her mouth and wailed as if she were three years old.
“Take that wig off her and help her into the kitchen,” ordered Judith. “She’s better off bleeding on the linoleum. It’s a mercy she didn’t black her eye, walking into that door. Gracious, child, don’t cry!” The last three words were more command than comfort, but they were spoken with unwonted kindness. “It’s only a nosebleed, after all. Do calm down.”
“I am calm,” sobbed Maud. She felt that under the circumstances, she had been heroically calm. She hadn’t ruined the séance; she hadn’t cried out when she hurt herself; she had waited patiently while the Hawthorne sisters cosseted Mrs. Lambert. Now she was through with being calm. She wanted to cry until she felt like stopping, and she wanted Hyacinth to take care of her.
“Who would have thought the child had so much blood in her?” marveled Hyacinth. She advanced within an arm’s length of Maud and plucked off the wig. Then she turned her toward the back hall, steering with the tips of her fingers. “I don’t blame you for crying, you know — it’s too gruesome. I thought I heard a bump when you went back in the closet. It’s providential you didn’t cry out. I’m sure Mrs. Lambert didn’t notice a thing.”
Maud hunched her shoulders. She was sick of hearing about Mrs. Lambert.
Muffet was in the kitchen. Maud, who had a hazy sense that it was the middle of the night, noted this with surprise. The hired woman was seated at the kitchen table, playing a game of solitaire. Even in her agitated state, Maud wondered who had taught Muffet to play cards. Then the woman looked up. She stood up, darting a fierce look at Hyacinth. Three steps and Maud was buried in Muffet’s arms.
It seemed that nosebleeds, like solitaire and gardening, were among the things that Muffet understood. Maud was not aware of Hyacinth’s leaving or of exactly what was happening to herself. She only knew that one moment she was bleeding down the front of Muffet’s apron and the next she was seated at the kitchen table in nothing but her petticoat, with a wet rag on the back of her neck. The white dress was soaking in cold water, and Muffet was holding Maud’s nostrils shut with one hand and wiping the blood off her chin with the other. The horny, callused hands were soft as feathers.
Maud gave a shudder of relief. The wet dishtowel felt good against her skin. It was good to feel the space of the kitchen all around her. She looked up at Muffet, meaning to signal gratitude. The hired woman had never looked grimmer. Maud’s forehead puckered. She couldn’t think of anything she had done to make Muffet angry.
Muffet pressed Maud’s fingers around the sore nose, directing Maud to keep her nostrils