Chapter 7
Alice woke shivering, rising with the sound of squeaking bedsprings. She trembled as she placed her bare feet on the cold, broad wooden floor. Her breath misted as she pulled her scratchy wool blanket up to her neck. “Are you awake?” she whispered across the room to Wendy.
“How could one sleep?” Wendy’s voice was muffled under her covers.
“It’s as cold as Siberia in this room!” Alice jumped from her cot, bundled her loose cover over her body, and ran to Wendy’s bed.
She tossed the blankets over the two of them, and they grabbed onto one another under a tent of scratchy wool.
“She’s trying to kill us,” Alice said resolutely.
“The heating must have gone out again,” Wendy said. “It happens every winter in this wing. If we’re lucky, that old witch will move us to a room with a fireplace until it’s fixed. If she’s going to keep us locked up, I mean!”
Suddenly, Alice felt the awful rush of the cause and effect of her actions return, and she lay silently looking at the blurred light through the pilled wool blanket.
It seemed a definite possibility that the horribly altered Miss Marker would take advantage of the well-timed unbearable climate of the room and simply leave them there to freeze.
She huffed and squeezed Wendy’s arm. “You can see it, Wendy. We can’t stay here any longer.
I’m going to break the transom glass and climb out. ”
As Alice stirred herself to sit up and brave the cold, there was a knock on the door, followed by the turn of the key. Under their blankets, they had somehow missed the approaching footsteps in the hall.
The door swung open, letting in a square of light from the lamps in the hall. “This is dreadful!” snapped an unfamiliar woman, shaking her head as she entered with a swish of her skirt. Alice looked at Wendy, who appeared equally surprised, as they scurried to their feet.
It was clear that neither of them had seen this woman before. Was she Marker’s replacement? Perhaps Miss Molloy had returned!
This woman was beautiful to a startling degree, with her hair done in full curls and pinned perfectly around her head, with two tight tendrils framing her forehead.
Her eyes were dark, and she wore a touch of rouge and lip tint.
If not for her fine grooming, her posture alone would have been a telltale sign of someone likely comfortable financially.
She wore a rigid collar, overly adorned with ruffles that broke at her chin, which seemed a very lavish and deliberate fashion statement.
She didn’t look like a woman who would work in Pastoria House.
“You poor girls,” the woman said. “It’s freezing! We shall change that. Please gather your belongings; you are now under my care.”
“Are you from the state? Are you taking us to a laundry?” Alice blurted in disbelief, turning away from Wendy’s stunned face. Did Miss Marker have the power to surrender them to the state? Or could this be serendipity? Were they finally leaving? With no need to break through the transom?
“No, dear! I’m in need of some assistance, and given my position, it would do me well to take care of the last remaining young women left in this establishment—though it seems it’s not very well run!
” Alice scoffed; the woman must have had the pleasure of meeting Marker in her soured state.
“You will live in my home, as of today.”
“But Miss Molloy did not mention that we would be leaving while she was away, Miss…” Wendy said, ever diligent to offer respect and obedience. Alice was buzzing.
“Do call me Guinevere,” the woman replied.
“Miss sounds so…senile,” she added with a small giggle.
“Anyway. It was a sudden arrangement. I’m sure Mrs. McCoy will come visit once you are settled.
Come!” Wendy and Alice shared a concerned glance.
How was it that the woman didn’t know Miss Molloy’s name?
Alice felt doubt begin to creep in. This was far too coincidental.
Alice never got what she wanted. How could this be happening?
“Where is Miss Marker?” Alice asked.
“Disposed of,” Guinevere said with a tilt of her head.
“Indisposed,” Alice corrected her, and she felt Wendy’s glare burning into her for doing so.
“Yes—that! Now come. I’m your home now.” Guinevere walked to the door.
“Thank you for your generosity, Guinevere,” Wendy said.
Alice simply nodded, as she couldn’t quite grasp why someone of stature would take in not one, but both, of them.
What assistance could someone need from two delusional young women?
But giving even more cause for suspicion—Molloy would never be on holiday when one of the girls left Pastoria. Especially not Alice.
Their new mistress waited outside their room as they gathered what few belongings they each had.
“Do you not find it curious that Miss Marker has just vanished?” Alice whispered. “And even curiouser, Miss Molloy isn’t even here!”
“I’m surprised, Alice. Have you not been scheming up ways to break out of here?” Wendy grinned, but her grin quickly faded as she looked away at the snow that fell beyond the window in the rising dawn.
Alice had been selfish not to consider why Wendy may not have been as eager to leave. “He will find you, Wendy!”
Wendy smiled tightly, holding back the tears that hung on her lashes. “I can’t wait by the window forever, Alice.”
Alice nodded, understanding. Perhaps it was best to see their sudden departure for the blessing that it was, even if the circumstances seemed entirely strange.
Wendy helped Alice fold the rest of her belongings, and together, hand in hand, they left Pastoria House—just as Alice had wished.
Wendy looked dreamily out of the window of the carriage, while Alice’s mind raced.
As pleased as she was to have been sprung from that room, why would they be riding in Pastoria House’s carriage—and with the young man whom Molloy had sent to assist driving, no less—so far from the city?
Guinevere claimed that Miss Molloy had volunteered the young man’s assistance, as well as the use of the carriage.
Alice resisted asking her to see proof. What would Alice have done?
Accused the mistress of forgery? But why was Miss Molloy missing from their exit?
Alice watched the snow-covered countryside expand and the houses that speckled it dwindle.
How much further until they reached their new residence—and what sort of assistance was a woman like Guinevere in need of?