Page 16 of Lady for a Season
Edward was sitting where they had left him, a broken doll, arm and legs loose, face porcelain-pale, eyes closed. She knelt at his feet.
“Edward?”
His eyes opened and tried to focus on her, staring into her face as though he could barely see her. “Maggie.” His voice was a croak.
“He will go soon,” she whispered. “He says he is done.”
His eyes met hers for an instant, before they closed again. “Thank God.”
She put her hand on his, pity overwhelming her, and stayed there for a few moments, but got to her feet as she heard steps in the corridor.
“Well now, Edward, I think we are finished. You will soon feel the benefit of our work. Maggie, help me take Edward to his bedroom.”
He could barely walk, his knees buckled under him, his arms draped over their shoulders without holding on to either of them. Between them they managed to get him back to his room and lay him on his bed, where Maggie pulled up the sheet and blanket over him. He lay silent, face white, eyes closed, breathing shallow.
“I will see you in another two months, Edward,” said the doctor from the doorway, but there was no reply. “He will sleep well tonight,” he added with satisfaction. “The swing results in what Cox calls “refreshing slumbers,” and he is quite right.”
Maggie thought that anyone would sleep after being exhausted, terrified and in pain for hours on end, but she did not speak. If the doctor thought her too critical, he might dismiss her and find another woman to take on the role of caring for Edward and she did not want to leave him to the none-too-tender mercies of what such a woman might be like, given the impression she had gathered of Bridget, who had taken all too keen an interest in ‘treating’ Edward. Wordlessly, she followed the doctor down the stairs to the front door, where she handed him his hat and coat.
Doctor Morrison appraised her. “You have conducted yourself well enough, Maggie. You may have found some of my methods harsh or surprising, as you have not seen them before, but from now on you will know what to expect and will not question their effects. Lunatics must sometimes be treated in ways that seem unkind to the untrained eye, but it is to keep them as well as they can be in themselves. They cannot be allowed to become too spirited or disturbed.”
Maggie kept her eyes on the floor. “Yes, sir.”
“Very well. I will return in two months to repeat the treatments and, until then, you will continue in your efforts. I think we will do well together, you and I, as you grow used to your position.”
She could not wait for him to leave. “Yes, sir.”
The carriage wheels crunched through the gravel, and he was gone at last. Maggie rested her head against the closed door.
He was a monster.
There had been no need to treat Edward so, she was sure of it. In what way had he been too spirited or disturbed? He had been happier than when she had first met him, of that she was sure. He had smiled more often. He had laughed. And now he was broken, purged in every possible way till he could barely stand, fearful and in pain. The Hospital letter she had been given came back to her, in which she had been exhorted toexecute all lawful commands with Industry, Cheerfulness and good Manners.Her jaw clenched. She might have to obey her master in carrying out Edward’s treatments, but she would find ways to make his life kinder, to build his strength up for the doctor’s visits. Perhaps one day he could be well and strong enough to refuse the treatments, to leave this place even.
She climbed the stairs again and went to Edward’s room, where she found him asleep, his skin paler than she had ever seen it, sweat still in his hair. She knelt by his bed and lightly touched his cheek and hair. “I will look after you, Edward,” she whispered. “I promise I will do everything I can to keep you safe and make you well.”
He did not stir. She rose, took away the burning candle and went back to the parlour downstairs, sitting in a chair and thinking about what she could do, what small comforts she might provide between the doctor’s visits.
He lay in silence, not asleep. Another round of the treatments had been survived. There would be two months to recover before it happened again. Would it be enough? His strength ebbed a little further every time it happened, yet there appeared to be no escape from Doctor Morrison and his theories, from hisincarceration and treatments here. From the madness everyone assured him he suffered from.
Yet this time had been different.
Someone had cared.
Maggie had tried to intervene. She had tried to stop the treatments. Even questioned Doctor Morrison. Failed, of course, because she was a servant, and he was both an eminent physician and her master. It was not her place to question him. Edward did not blame her for failing. His heart was too full. Someone had stood up for him, had tried to shield him. Had cared enough to try and help him. And now, just now, thinking him asleep, she had whispered to him. Had made him a promise. Said she would look after him and make him well. Was that even possible? That he could be well? He had spent so many years with his father demanding to know what was wrong with him, being told there was some defect in him by everyone around him, being treated for his affliction. It was hard to believe he could ever be well. But Maggie had said she would do everything she could to make him well, and if she believed it, he too would try to believe it of himself, would try to gather what remained of his strength and recover his health, his sanity. He would try because she believed in him.
That night, for the first time he could remember, he did not have a nightmare.
The next day was cold and rainy. Maggie brought up a jug of hot water for Edward to wash, taking over the task from Agnes. He watched her pour it into a basin and frowned at the steam rising from it.
“The doctor says I am only to have cold water.”
“In this weather, everyone should keep warm, and there is plenty in the kitchen.”
He hesitated, but gave a small smile at the determined face she was pulling and nodded. “Thank you.”
She nodded back and left the room, feeling as though she had won a small victory against the absent doctor. Perhaps he was a great physician, but Maggie had seen and experienced bullying at the Hospital and she knew a bully when she saw one. She was certain that there had been no need for the treatments. Edward had nightmares and was timid of the world around him, but that did not make him dangerous or in need of treatments. Surely it would be better to show him kindness and allow him to grow in confidence? At any rate, a jug of warm water could not undo the doctor’s treatments, even if they were efficacious, which she doubted.
“There’s cream for our porridge,” said Eliza, in a generous mood after being praised for her housekeeping by the doctor.
