A Drowned Maiden's Hair_ A Melodrama - Laura Amy Schlitz [70]
Maud was aware of this. “I know my lines.”
“Of course you do. Besides, people are dreadfully predictable — they all say the same sort of thing, and I have prepared you particularly well. However — if there should be some question you can’t answer —”
Maud recognized this for the cue it was. She rose on her knees and clasped her hands piously. “Dear Mama, I can’t hear you! It is as if there were a gulf between us. . . . Oh, Mama, I can no longer feel your presence. Farewell, dear Mama! I will come again!”
Hyacinth corrected her. “Farewell, dear Mama. I love you. I will come again. You tend to leave out the ‘I love you.’”
Maud sat back on her heels, crestfallen.
“However” — Hyacinth’s voice made her look up again — “on the whole, your performance is remarkable. Quite perfect. I have absolutely no fear that you won’t pull the thing off.”
“I’ll do my best.”
“Of course you will.” Hyacinth lounged against the back of the chair, her eyes half-shut. “You are really the most extraordinary child . . . so clever . . . such a little actress. . . .” Her voice trailed off, and Maud wondered if she were falling asleep. She hoped she wasn’t. It was the first time in a week that Hyacinth had spared time to talk to her, and she wanted to hear more about how clever she was. She wondered if she dared rouse her by touching her hand.
Before she could make up her mind, the door opened, and Judith came in with a letter. “Hyacinth, Mrs. Fortescue’s written to you.”
Hyacinth sat bolt upright and put out her hand. Rapidly, she tore open the envelope and read the letter.
“Does she want a séance?” demanded Judith.
“Better than that.” The eyes that had been half-shut glittered with anticipation. “She’s having a house party in Philadelphia — all next week — and we’re invited to come.”
“Which one is Mrs. Fortescue?” asked Maud. She had heard the name but paid little attention to it. Mrs. Fortescue, Mrs. Sheffield, Miss Quigley, Mrs. Lugwig. All of them were Hyacinth’s clients, but they were of no importance to Maud. Their dead relations were all grown-ups.
“The wife of a millionaire,” answered Hyacinth. “Judith and I helped her contact her twin sister, who died thirty years ago. She lives in a veritable mansion — she knows all the most fashionable people in Philadelphia — the house will be full of them! No doubt Judith and I will be the entertainment.”
“Séances?” asked Maud.
“Certainly.” Hyacinth put down the letter. “Judith, it’s a splendid opportunity. We’ll see people we’d never meet anywhere else.”
Judith nodded. “We’ll take the steamer, I suppose?”
“It’s an easy journey — five or six hours, I believe — so much pleasanter than the train. Oh, Judith, it’s perfect!” Hyacinth’s eyes were shining. “Think of the clients we can acquire! Rich as Croesus, every man Jack of them!”
“What about me?” asked Maud.
The two women looked startled. They had forgotten her.
“We can’t not go,” Hyacinth said breathlessly.
“I suppose we might ask Victoria to look after —” Judith began.
“No!” Hyacinth’s voice was sharp. “I won’t have Victoria here. Really, I’m surprised at you, Judith! She could put all sorts of morbid ideas into Maud’s head! Why, she could ruin everything!”
Judith glanced meaningfully at Maud. “We can’t leave the child by herself. And I can’t stay with her. You’ll need me for the séances.”
“Can’t I come?” begged Maud. She knew it was futile, even before the sisters chorused, “No.”
“She’ll be with Muffet,” Hyacinth began.
“No.” Judith repeated. “The woman’s close to a half-wit. What if there were a fire — or a burglar? She can’t hear, and Maud —”
“Muffet’s not a half-wit,” interjected Maud.
“Of course not,” Hyacinth said silkily. “She may be deaf, but she’s perfectly well able to look after Maud. Besides, Maud’s not a baby. She’s accustomed to amusing herself, aren’t you, Maud?”
Maud could not think. Her stomach was churning and she didn’t know why. She imagined a week with Hyacinth and Judith gone. She saw herself free, able to walk all over the