A Drowned Maiden's Hair_ A Melodrama - Laura Amy Schlitz [91]
A flicker of surprise passed over Mrs. Lambert’s face. Maud had raised an argument that had not occurred to her. Sensing her advantage, Maud pressed on. “Anyway, she told me she didn’t die on purpose.”
It was a mistake. “She told you?” Mrs. Lambert flung back. “Are you trying to make me think you’re a medium after all? That it wasn’t all a fraud — that you weren’t trying to cheat me out of my money?”
“No. I —” Maud paused a minute. “We —” She tried to find some justification for what she had done. “It’s the family business,” she stammered. “That’s what Hyacinth taught me. There’s a mortgage on the house in Hawthorne Grove, which means we might lose it — even Aunt Victoria wanted the money for the mortgage, though she didn’t like lying. That’s why she left.” She realized she was straying from the point. “The things I did during the séances — like giving you that shell — and playing the glockenspiel — Hyacinth and Aunt Judith taught me them. But I did dream about Caroline. I guess because she was a little girl too. And the dreams seemed real — except her hair was brown. In the dreams, she didn’t have golden hair.”
“Caroline didn’t have golden hair,” Mrs. Lambert said dismissively.
“Yes, she did,” contradicted Maud. “She had golden curls. I had to wear a wig when I was her.”
“Don’t tell me what color my daughter’s hair was! Her hair was brown.” Mrs. Lambert touched her own flaxen hair. “Caroline took after her father.”
Maud stood stock still. Once again, Hyacinth had made a mistake. She had heard about Caroline’s beautiful curls and assumed that the child inherited her mother’s coloring. Maud’s mouth fell open. If the Caroline in her dreams had brown hair, then she was the real Caroline. “Mrs. Lambert!” she cried out. “Mrs. Lambert, listen to me! I have to tell you —”
The corridor doors opened. Hyacinth stood before them.
She had been out walking. She wore Mrs. Lambert’s narrow skirt and a shirtwaist of starched linen. Both showed signs of hasty alterations, but Hyacinth wore them serenely, without a hint of self-consciousness. She also wore Mrs. Lambert’s hat — and she wore it at the exact angle that the milliner had envisioned. It was very flattering.
Maud fixed her eyes on Hyacinth’s face. She expected the woman to reveal some sign of emotion: fear, anger, relief. But Hyacinth betrayed no hint of feeling. Her face was like the face of an elegant doll. Her eyes were bright and still.
Neither Maud nor Mrs. Lambert moved. “You have a little caller, I see.” Hyacinth nodded in Maud’s direction. “Will you introduce me?”
Maud could not speak. She turned to see if Mrs. Lambert was deceived.
Mrs. Lambert appeared as composed as Hyacinth. “There’s no need. I believe you know Maud well.”
Hyacinth tilted her head to one side. “I don’t know what the child has been telling you, but I’ve never seen her before in my life.”
The words broke the spell that held Maud captive. Her skull contracted; her ears pounded. “You do so know me!” she shrilled. “You’re a liar! You’re a liar and a cheat and you don’t love anyone!”
She leaped forward. Hyacinth recoiled, but Maud was upon her, clawing at her clothes, hauling and striking. She snapped her jaws together and kicked out savagely. Her bare toes throbbed with pain — she had hurt Hyacinth. She shrieked again, a berserker cry of triumph. She kicked — raised a hand to strike — and felt a stinging slap. Hyacinth was up against the doors and fighting back. She twisted a handful of Maud’s hair — Maud gasped with pain. All at once, Maud felt an arm around her chest and another around her waist. Mrs. Lambert seized her, lifting her into the air.
“Enough!” Mrs. Lambert’s tone of voice was one that Maud had never heard. She half carried, half dragged Maud to the nearest chair and flung her into it.
Maud subsided, breathing hard.