by Brown, T. J.
“I love you, too.”
For the next hour, Susie and Prudence stayed up, visiting and mending. Susie was teaching Prudence to darn socks and Andrew provided them with a never-ending supply.
This was the time when Susie’s presence was most welcome. Prudence had never spent much time alone and the days Andrew was gone and the evenings he went to bed early were the loneliest for her. She could only read and visit with Muriel and Katie so often.
The knock on the door startled both of them. Prudence glanced at the bedroom, but the door remained shut and nothing stirred.
They both went to the door and Susie grabbed a heavy candlestick from the table at the last moment. Prudence tried to project a confidence she didn’t feel and she eased the door open.
Her pulse skyrocketed the moment she saw Rowena’s face. She would have slammed the door had she been able to move, but shock kept her still, her mouth agape.
Rowena gave Prudence a small, sad smile and her beautiful green eyes brimmed with tears. “Hello, Prudence.”
Rowena’s beautiful face had changed, Prudence realized. Whereas she always had been lovely, the firmness of her jaw showed a certain maturity that hadn’t been there before, while a new softness in her features showed the telltale signs of a woman in love.
With Sebastian.
She tried to shut the door, but Rowena stuck her foot in the doorway. “Victoria is missing.”
Prudence stilled, her heart in her throat. “What do you mean she’s missing?”
“She got a note this morning and ran out of the house. She hasn’t been seen since.”
Prudence opened her mouth but Rowena forestalled her. “I’ve already been to Katie’s. That’s how I found you.”
More than anything in the world, Prudence did not want to let Rowena in the house. Just the sound of her voice reminded Prudence of two of the most painful moments in her life, but Prudence had never let Victoria down when she needed her; she wasn’t about to start now. She opened the door and stood to one side. “Come in,” she said. She turned to Susie, who had replaced the candlestick. “Could you please make a pot of tea?”
Prudence tried not to look at the naked relief on Rowena’s face. Her pain was still raw, and as far as she was concerned, this changed nothing between them.
Prudence lit a lamp and they sat at the table. Susie busied herself making tea and taking down cups, while the man Rowena was with stood awkwardly in the middle of the room.
Rowena introduced them without ceremony. “Prudence, this is Victoria’s friend Kit. Kit, this is our sister, Prudence.”
Kit’s eyebrows rose. “I believe we’ve met, but it is nice to see you.”
Prudence blushed. They had met before, briefly, but she had only had eyes for Sebastian. “Yes, and you as well.”
The bedroom door opened and Andrew came out. To Prudence’s relief, he had heard voices and came in fully dressed. She introduced Kit and Rowena quickly, although too late she remembered that he already knew Rowena, having served as a footman at Summerset.
“What can I do?” Andrew asked after hearing about Victoria. He stood behind Prudence’s chair and she reached back and captured one of his hands. He was such a good man. Prudence didn’t intend to ever forget that again.
“I’m not sure any of us can do anything tonight,” Kit said. “Rowena and I are going to go to the Suffragettes for Female Equality in the morning and find out if they know anything.”
“You have no idea who she was going to see?” Prudence’s stomach clenched at the thought of Victoria out in the darkness, alone and hurt. Where could she be?
Rowena shook her head. “You know what Victoria is like. She kept everything a secret. But despite her fondness for being mysterious, I’d have thought that even Victoria would want to boast about her position as a suffragette, and yet she said nothing to anyone about it. Did she ever talk about it with you?”
“She told me when she got the job, of course, but she gave me few details, only that she was to be a spokeswoman for the group, which I thought strange for someone completely new to the organization.”
Susie freshened their tea and Prudence took a sip. Making up her mind, she turned to Rowena. “I want to go with you in the morning.”
Rowena put her hands in front of her face and Prudence saw her shoulders shake. She wanted to remind Rowena that she was doing this for Victoria, not for her, but kept silent. It wasn’t the time.
Rowena and Kit left soon after, promising to let Prudence know if they heard any news. Andrew gathered Prudence in his arms after he shut the door.
“She’ll be fine, Prudence,” he said into her hair. “I’m sure she’ll turn up safe and sound before breakfast.”
But Prudence was watching Susie’s face as Andrew made his assurances, and Susie seemed far from assured.
CHAPTER
SIXTEEN
The next time Victoria opened her eyes, the light was on. She blinked a couple of times and was startled when a woman with a thick East End accent said, “You’re awake now, so don’t you be playing possum, and don’t start your screaming or else the doctor will be sending you to the asylum, and trust me, darling, you would rather be here.”
Victoria froze. The scent of bleach and urine still assaulted her nose. The one small window above her head let in no light and she could see bars at the top. Her heart pounded a little faster. “Tell me where I am!”
“You can say please, you know. Just because I’m a nurse and you’re a suffragette doesn’t mean you needn’t use your manners.”
Victoria tried to move and realized that not only was her arm chained but her leg was as well.
The woman laughed. “You’ll not be kicking me again.”
“I’m sorry,” Victoria said earnestly. “Please. Where am I?”
The woman came closer. She wore a blue-and-white-striped shirt, a long skirt of cheap wincey, and a crisp white apron that covered her head to toe. A white linen cap covered her hair. She smelt strongly of lye soap, but it was infinitely better than the urine stench. Her eyes were a bright, saucy blue. “That’s more like it. You’re in Holloway Prison.”
Victoria whimpered, her heartbeat accelerating and her chest tightening. She closed her eyes and counted, taking little breaths until the vise squeezing her chest eased. Once she could breathe easily again, she asked, “Why am I here?”
“You don’t know?” The nurse sounded surprised. “That’s a new one. Most of you suffragettes are proud of your exploits! Don’t you remember?”
Victoria thought hard. She remembered being at the National Gallery with Mary and then Mary had . . . Memories came flooding back and Victoria groaned.
“I see you’re remembering.”
She struggled to sit again and then gave up, settling back against the mattress. The pillow under her neck scratched, and she prayed it was cheap linen rather than bugs. “Prison is different than I thought it would be.”
The woman snorted. “This isn’t prison, this is the clinic. You were almost dead when they brought you in. You have a breathing disorder?”
Victoria nodded. “Yes, I’m . . . ” Victoria choked a bit on the word but used it anyway. It was what she was, no matter how much she denied it. “I’m an asthmatic.”
The woman nodded and made a note on a chart. “That’s what the doctor thought. And don’t worry. You’ll be seeing the inside of a prison cell soon enough, though you suffragettes usually rate one to yourselves. Just don’t try to starve yourself. We will force-feed you, and it’s the most God-awful thing I’ve ever seen or done.” Her face wrinkled into a stern look as she took Victoria’s pulse.
“Why wouldn’t I eat?” Victoria asked. She’d heard of suffragettes going on hunger strikes, but she thought trying to kill oneself was a poor way to give to the cause.
“Why would any of them stop eating?” the nurse asked reasonably. “But I’m sure a young woman such as yourself, who has struggled for her very life’s breath, would look at death a
great deal differently than most idealists. You’re very lucky to be alive, miss. I thought you were a goner. You were as blue as my shirt. Now, do you need to use the privy?” Victoria nodded and the woman indicated a bucket in the corner.
Victoria blanched.
“I know it’s not fancy, but then, I suspect the wardens don’t feel the need to roll out the fancy for those who break the law. Now, if you promise not to throw another fit, I’ll let you loose long enough to do your business. Give me a single moment’s worry and I’ll call in Ed and you’ll have to do whatever you need to do in front of him.”
Horrified, Victoria promised. After the nurse had gotten her back into the bed, she told Victoria to try to sleep. “I won’t cuff you, if you promise me no more trouble. If you do, it’s my arse on the line and I’ll have to truss you up like a Christmas goose.” The woman rattled the cuffs for emphasis.
The blood drained out of Victoria’s face. “I promise,” she whispered. “Thank you.”
The nurse got Victoria into bed and settled the covers over her. Victoria’s bones ached, and even the roughness of the gray woolen blankets and the hard mattress felt wonderful. When the woman moved to leave, Victoria caught her arm. “Wait,” she pleaded. It seemed as if this woman was the only person between Victoria and unknown terrors. “When will I see a judge? When can I see my family?”
The woman shook her head and flicked a switch off. The only light now came from the open door, and long shadows spilled over Victoria’s bed. “I don’t know. It’s hard to tell.”
“What’s your name?” Victoria pleaded. Anything to keep the door from shutting.
“Eleanor. I’ll check on you before my shift is up. Now try to get some sleep.”
The light slivered and then was gone. The darkness, once the door had closed, was absolute, and Victoria trembled. She’d never liked being alone at night, and for years she had slept with Prudence to keep the nightmares away.
There was no one to keep the nightmares away now. Of course, how could anything her mind conjured be worse than her current reality?
Tears rose and fell down her cheeks in the darkness. How did she get here? Why hadn’t she just ignored Mary’s note? The woman was mad. Victoria wondered where she was and then realized that Mary was no doubt locked in a cell in this very prison.
She wiped the tears with her hands. Her uncle would get her out if he could. He was an important man and a rich one to boot. Surely he could do something.
With a sinking heart, she remembered some of the newspaper articles she’d read over the preceding months. Public opinion might be mixed on the suffragettes, but the justice system was not. Most judges had no sympathy whatsoever, and they had been known to throw a suffragette in jail and toss the key at the same time. And if they really thought she had plotted to destroy the painting . . . Victoria shuddered.
Something dropped outside the door and she stilled. She could hear muffled voices for a bit as the nurses and orderlies worked their way from room to room, checking on patients, and she listened intently. At least she knew there were people out there and she wasn’t all alone. But the noises grew fainter and fainter and soon there was only the sound of her own ragged breathing. Then a soft moaning began and her heart leapt jaggedly in her chest. She screwed her eyes up tight against the darkness and began to recite:
“ ’Twas brillig, and the slithy toves
Did gyre and gimble in the wabe;
All mimsy were the borogoves,
And the mome raths outgrabe . . . ”
Victoria paused with a shudder. No. Lewis Carroll’s “Jabber-wocky” was much too frightening for this situation. Her father used to run his fingers through his hair and recite it while making the most horrible faces. Father! She swallowed and began again. This time choosing Rudyard Kipling’s “The Bee Boy’s Song.”
“BEES! BEES! Hark to your bees!
‘Hide from your neighbors as much as you please,
But all that has happened, to us you must tell,
Or else we will give you no honey to sell!’ ”
She started softly and then grew louder and louder as the words chased the last of the shadows from her mind.
Her heartbeat and her breathing had both returned to normal, and she racked her brain for the vast reserves of Kipling poetry she had stored there. She wouldn’t think about being alone in a dark place. Alone in a notorious prison where they sent murderers and robbers. Where women lived out their entire lives, forgotten by the world. Victoria whimpered and sank down further under the blankets.
Desperately she moved from poetry to stories: “ ‘This is the story of the great war that Rikki-tikki-tavi fought single-handed, through the bath-rooms of the big bungalow in Segowlee cantonment . . . ’ ”
* * *
She must have dozed, but her sleep was marred by unremembered nightmares that woke her each time into an unrelenting reality. Hours later she was awoken by the sound of the bolts being thrown open. She concentrated on the door, praying it was Eleanor.
The light blinded her when it was flicked on and she heard Eleanor’s voice. “I told you I would check on you again.”
“Thank you.” Victoria’s eyes welled up with tears of gratitude.
“Oh, stop it now. I liked you better when you were rude.”
Eleanor let her get up and use the bucket again and then took her pulse. “You’re as fit as a fiddle as long as you’re breathing,” she said. “Now if you promise to be good, I’ll just cuff your leg.”
Victoria promised. Eleanor got her settled again. “I probably won’t see you when I come back on this evening.” She looked at her and shook her head. “Look at you. Your dress costs more than my entire month’s paycheck and yet you weren’t happy or satisfied. I want the vote every bit as badly as you do, but I won’t risk everything I’ve worked so hard for to get it. Crazy girls.”
Dim light shone in the window high above Victoria’s bed and she watched it increase until the bolt was thrown and the door opened. A woman in a gray uniform walked in with another nurse wearing a uniform similar to the one Eleanor had worn.
“I told you she was ready to go,” the nurse said after removing Victoria’s cuffs and giving her a quick examination.
The other woman, who had a stern, unsmiling face, threw a black dress at Victoria. “Change into that and be quick about it.” She turned to the nurse. “She may be ready to go, but I’m not sure where we are supposed to put her. The first-class cells are all taken.”
Victoria tried to hurry, but her fingers were clumsy and she fumbled with the buttons. “If you don’t have any room for me, you could always let me go,” she quipped.
The woman in gray stopped talking and casually pulled up a billy club she had hanging from her belt. Victoria swallowed and began unbuttoning her dress with increased fervor.
When she had finished changing into the plain black wool dress, the woman took her by the arm and led her away. Victoria was almost sad to leave the horrid little room. She didn’t know what awaited her as she was led down one windowless hall after another, and she ached for something familiar.
She was put into a small room about four feet by four feet that had one chair. The gray woman, as Victoria now thought of her, didn’t say a word; she merely pointed at the chair. Victoria sat. And waited.
By the time someone came to get her, she was desperately hungry and thirsty, not to mention she had a serious need to find a WC. The woman who came wasn’t the gray woman, but so much like her that she might as well have been.
“You missed breakfast?” The woman sounded accusing, as if Victoria had done it on purpose. “Oh, Lord. Why me?”
The woman brought her a cup of water and Victoria drank thirstily. “That will have to do you. I can’t get you any extra food.”
Victoria wanted to point out that since she hadn’t had breakfast, it could hardly be called “extra” food, but she had already learned that lesson and kept her mouth closed.
She was taken
down a long hall and into a wide room with a soaring ceiling that went up three stories. On each side of the room were rows of cells stacked vertically, one on top of the other, like children’s blocks. When Victoria looked again, she realized that they were on different floors. They walked through the cavernous space and into another hallway. The walls were mostly stone and brick. At least she wouldn’t have to worry about being trapped in a fire. Holloway castle, as all of London called it, wasn’t going to burn down anytime soon.
They stopped at a locked closet on the way, and the woman handed Victoria two gray woolen blankets, a counterpane, and a white towel. The woman grabbed a large tin pitcher and filled it at a nearby spigot. By the time they finally reached Victoria’s cell, her foot, the one that had been cuffed most of the night, was swollen and sore. She didn’t dare complain, though. Just looking at the billy club caused ripples of fear to crawl up and down her spine. Victoria had never been struck before last night, and she couldn’t believe that she could now be hit for any given reason at any time, and there was nothing she could do about it.
The cell was about ten feet long and five feet wide and the walls were painted cement blocks. Against the back wall of the cell a large barred window overlooked God knew what. In the back corner of the room stood a cot and mattress folded in half, a metal washbasin, a towel, several tin buckets, and a wooden stool. A bare lightbulb hung from the center of the ceiling.
“Make up your bed with your clean blankets and then shut it again.”
When Victoria turned to the bed, trembling, the woman set the pitcher on the stool and left the room without saying a word. The sound of a lock clicking into place struck terror in her heart, but she clapped her hand over her mouth to stop the cry. She didn’t want to be taken to an asylum, though how it could be worse than this she didn’t know. But if Eleanor said she didn’t want to be there, then Victoria believed her.
Victoria rushed to the window and saw lines of women walking a gravel path around a yard. Around and around they went, with pairs of guards, all dressed in gray, on each corner. The prisoners were all dressed in the same uniform Victoria now wore.