A Drowned Maiden's Hair_ A Melodrama - Laura Amy Schlitz [92]
“Miss Hawthorne, it is ten past eight. I will give you two minutes to leave this hotel. After that, I will call the management and have you thrown out. If you resist, I will call the police.”
Hyacinth staggered and caught hold of the back of a chair. She jerked her head toward Maud. “Are you quite sure you believe her? You see what she is.”
“I see what you’ve made of her.” Mrs. Lambert lifted one hand, drawing Hyacinth’s attention to the clock. “Your time grows short, Miss Hawthorne. Let me repeat myself. I want you out of this room. Dr. Knowles says your sister and your servant have serious injuries. Because of that, I will suffer them — and the child — to remain here, at my expense, until they can walk. You, however, will go. Immediately.” Her tone made it clear she would brook no denial. For the first time, Maud understood that Mrs. Lambert was a woman who was accustomed to being obeyed. “As soon as your sister is fit to travel, I will send her to join you. After that, both of you will keep your distance. If you don’t, I will take you to court. Do you understand?”
Hyacinth was trembling. She began to say something and changed her mind.
“Do not count upon my silence.” Mrs. Lambert’s voice held a deadly quiet. “I have no intention of keeping this to myself. I am not ashamed of what I wanted, and I am quite willing to expose you.”
Hyacinth’s eyes met Maud’s. She hissed a single word: “Traitor!” Then she spun on her heel and went out. She left the doors ajar; Mrs. Lambert flew to the doors and locked them. Her face was contorted with disgust.
Maud cowered in the armchair. She flattened herself against the cushions, wondering what was going to become of her. She knew that it was the worst possible moment to ask for anything, but she sensed that there would be no other time. “Mrs. Lambert, Muffet’s innocent.”
Mrs. Lambert did not even look at her. She swept past Maud as if she had not spoken.
The days Maud spent at the Hotel Elysium were among the most miserable she had ever known. In the midst of luxury, she was plagued by guilt, grief, and dread. She was also bored. Both Judith and Muffet slept for hours during the day, and Mrs. Lambert shunned her. She had no books. She spent two days stitching together her ruined dress so that she could escape outside, only to find it was no use. Cape Calypso had lost its power to charm her. The boardwalk smells that had teased her appetite struck her as faintly nauseous; the crowds of well-dressed tourists made her feel shabby and forlorn. When she tried to make a sand castle, she thought of the crocodile she had made with Mrs. Lambert. She abandoned the castle to the waves.
The hotel seemed charged with silence. Judith was low spirited, suffering, the doctor said, from shock and burns. When Maud spoke to her, she answered in monosyllables. Maud realized that she had become something far worse than a secret child: she had become a child who was ignored.
She was desperately lonely. She spent hours sitting beside Muffet while she slept, and she tried to make friends with the hotel servants. From eavesdropping, she learned that Victoria’s cottage had been condemned. It had not been insured, and there was no money to fix it. Mrs. Lambert hired a team of salvage men to pack up objects that could still be used. The men brought four trunks of smoky-smelling goods to Judith’s room in the Hotel Elysium.
Maud rummaged through the trunks. She found Muffet’s photograph album, her own parasol, and a tangle of garments from the laundry basket. Most of Judith’s dresses had burned. Maud’s clothes had survived, though they were streaked and dingy with smoke. There were no books in the trunks — Maud supposed the books, like the kitchen utensils, had been left behind in the boarded-up house.
She