The Girl with the Red Ribbon (18 page)

‘She's right, of course, I shouldn't interview you alone, but I sense there's something going on here that I'm only going to get to the bottom of without Sharp present. Am I right?'

Surprised by his perception, Rowan nodded.

There was a rap on the door.

‘Enter,' he called.

‘You wanted me, sir?'

‘Indeed, Pearce. Please will you bring me the admission papers for Rowan, erm, what is your surname?' he asked, turning to Rowan.

‘Clode, sir. I'm Rowan Clode.'

‘Right,
Pearce, I wish to see the papers for Rowan Clode.'

‘Sir,' Pearce said, and promptly left the room.

‘Now, whilst we wait I'd like you to explain what you meant about the women in here being drugged. I have to say your statement has come as a great surprise, for I have always found Hell Tor Asylum to be one of the most orderly, well-run establishments that I visit,' he said, his expression becoming serious.

‘But I understand you usually visit at night, sir,' Rowan said.

‘That is true. Hell Tor is the last on my round, and it is usually evening by the time I arrive, especially if the horses have had to negotiate the peat bogs in the mist,' he said, frowning.

‘Well, that explains it,' Rowan said. ‘You see, each night since I've been here the women start wailing and moaning after the dormitories are locked, and the guards come in and shut them up.'

‘And how do they do that?'

‘They drug them. When the room goes quiet again and the guards leave, there's always the same bitter smell lingering.'

There was silence for a few moments as the superintendent sat staring at her.

‘That is a serious accusation to make,' he said eventually.

‘Well, sir, I can assure you I never tell lies, and as you saw earlier, the women plod around with vacant-looking eyes. They're so meek and biddable all the time. They
follow like sheep, just doing as they're told without question.'

There was a knock at the door and Pearce reappeared carrying a file.

‘Thank you, Pearce,' he said, taking the file. ‘On what duties has Rowan been employed?'

‘She's been working in the sewing room with Mrs Robbins,' Pearce replied.

‘Please send Sharp to bring Mrs Robbins to me immediately. Tell her she is to stay and oversee the sewing room until Mrs Robbins returns.'

‘Yes, sir,' Pearce answered, before hurrying off to find Sharp.

‘Well, Rowan, let me look at your details,' the superintendent said, opening the file and studying the papers inside. As Rowan waited, she listened to the crackling of the logs on the fire, thinking how different it was in this office compared to the rest of the building. How lovely it was to smell wood ash instead of the all-pervading lye and whatever noxious substance they mixed with it.

‘Right, Rowan,' the superintendent said, breaking into her thoughts. ‘It says here that you are deemed to be a wise woman,' and he frowned as he looked up from the papers.

Rowan couldn't help it, she burst out laughing.

‘You find that accusation funny?' he asked, his frown deepening.

‘I'm sorry, sir, but a wise woman is an old lady and, as you can see, I am a young girl,' she pointed out.

He scrutinized her, recognition dawning. ‘How young? I mean, just how old are you, Rowan?'

‘Fifteen, sir.'

He gave a sharp intake of breath and shook his head. ‘It states on your admission papers here that you are twenty years old. It is obvious that you are much younger. However, you have been accused of being a lunatic. What say you to that?'

‘I say I'm as sane as you are, sir.'

‘Hmm. Well, this accusation was made after you were seen chanting and planting by moonlight. Can you tell me these are the actions of a sane person?' he asked, frowning so that his bushy eyebrows met in the middle.

‘Mr Superintendent, sir, my family carry out the custom of lunar farming. By using the phases of the moon, we plant and sow when the water table is at its most conducive.'

‘I see, and you mean lunar as in the moon?' he asked.

Rowan nodded.

The superintendent looked down at his file again. ‘And your family has cows?'

She
nodded again, wondering what on earth that had to do with anything.

‘And would you profess to like these animals?'

‘Of course I do, sir.'

‘Well, then, why would you hit every cow with a stick?' he asked, shaking his head.

‘Ah, that would be the springtime switching, sir. You see, it is the custom to pat each cow lightly on the back with a rowan twig as it is being let out to pasture for the first time. It bestows a blessing to protect them, and encourages them to give a good yield of milk.'

‘Well, not being of farming stock myself I'll have to take your word on that,' he said, glancing down at his papers again. ‘But what about the chanting and dancing you have also been accused of?'

‘These are the worshipping rituals handed down to me by my mother. She believed in seeking help for a good harvest and then giving thanks for receiving one. It's quite a normal custom in the country. Uncle Silas and Auntie Sal do it, too,' she said.

‘And your mother, she still carries out these rituals?'

‘My mother is dead, sir,' Rowan whispered, ‘so the duty falls to me.'

‘You have my deepest sympathy. I would be lost without my mother, although she does fuss sometimes,' he said, giving her a conspiratorial grin, then coughing quickly, as though realizing he'd said too much. ‘So, if your mother is dead, who is this Fanny Clode?' he asked, consulting his papers.

‘My stepmother, sir. She married my father earlier this year.'

‘And
you get on well with her?'

‘I've tried to, sir, honestly, I have. But she doesn't like me. She told me there wasn't room for both of us and that my father would choose her over me because a man has needs she can …' Her voice trailed off and she felt a blush creep up her cheeks.

‘I think I get the picture,' he said, coughing again. ‘Now, Rowan, think about my next question and promise to answer me honestly, for your future could depend upon what you say. Were you examined recently by an apothecary called Dr Mad and a man of the cloth called Reverend Sin?'

Once again, Rowan burst out laughing.

‘I really fail to see what you find so funny,' the superintendent said, puckering his bushy brows.

‘Sorry, sir, it was the names that made me laugh.'

The superintendent glanced back down at his papers and a smile twitched his lips. ‘Yes, I see,' he said. Then he resumed his former serious manner. ‘Now, I repeat, were you examined by either of these men?' he asked.

‘No, sir, I was not. I've never even seen these people. One minute I was carrying out my Eostre ritual to celebrate the spring equinox and the next I had a sack thrown over my head and was being dumped onto a cart.'

‘What!' The superintendent's bushy eyebrows rose so high they nearly disappeared into his hair.

‘Then I had this vile cloth pressed over my face and I passed out. That's how I recognized the same bitter smell in the dormitory.'

The superintendent closed his eyes and shook his head.
There was silence for a few moments, which was broken by a brisk knock on the door.

‘Enter,' the superintendent called. Pearce ushered Ma Robbins into the room. ‘Thank you, Pearce. Can you please take Rowan and wait outside for a few moments?' he said, at the same time motioning for Ma Robbins to sit down.

After what seemed an age, Ma Robbins reappeared from the office, and said that Rowan and Pearce were to go back in.

‘Pearce, I believe that was the dinner bell we heard earlier,' said the superintendent, to which she nodded. ‘Perhaps you could arrange for some food to be brought in for the three of us?' he continued.

The guard looked surprised, but nodded and duly disappeared.

Whilst she was away, the superintendent paced back and forth in front of the window, obviously in deep concentration; Rowan thought it best not to say anything.

A few minutes later, Pearce reappeared carrying a tray.

‘I've brought mugs of broth and bread and butter, sir. I hope that's all right?' she asked.

‘Thank you, Pearce. Please set the tray down on the table by the window. I think we would all benefit from some sustenance, so let's enjoy a late dinner. Come along, ladies,' he said.

To Rowan's surprise, the superintendent walked over to the round table, where he carefully set the plate of bread, glistening with thickly spread golden butter, in the middle.
Then, motioning them to be seated, he proceeded to pass around the steaming mugs.

The broth was thick and delicious, bearing little resemblance to the thin tasteless liquid Rowan had become used to. If Pearce was surprised at the turn of events, she was too polite to show it, but Rowan couldn't help but notice she ate with relish. They finished their meal in silence, the superintendent still staring out of the window as if he was thinking hard. Rowan noticed the window in this room was even larger than the one in the sewing room, and for the first time since she'd arrived she had a view out over the moors. They seemed endless and, strangely, were dotted here and there with huge grey stones. The sun was tingeing the landscape with golden rays, and Rowan felt a yearning to be outside in the glorious fresh air again.

As if he'd reached a decision, the superintendent sprang to his feet. Leaning towards Pearce, he whispered, ‘I asked Mrs Robbins to send Sharp back. Is she still outside the door?'

‘She was when I brought the tray in, sir.'

He nodded and glanced at Rowan. ‘I am about to pronounce my findings on you, Rowan Clode,' he announced in such a loud voice that Rowan jumped in surprise. Supposing he didn't believe her and she was incarcerated here for the rest of her days?

Then he walked over to the door and threw it open so suddenly Sharp toppled into the room, landing on the floor in front of him in a most undignified manner.

‘How nice of you to drop in, Sharp. No doubt you have been keeping your ear to the keyhole, so to speak?'

Flustered,
the woman got to her feet. ‘I pride myself on keeping abreast of things here, sir,' she stated pompously.

‘And, no doubt, are waiting to hear my decision about Rowan and whether she should continue to be detained?' the superintendent said, in such a stentorian voice that Rowan realized he was not a person to cross. Oh, dear heavens, she thought, please don't say he's going to put me back in the care of that creepy Sharp. I couldn't bear it.

‘Well, Superintendent, I know how you believe in justice, what with you being such a fair man,' Sharp simpered, having now completely regained her composure. ‘And of course, as the senior guard here, I can be relied upon to help in any way I can,' she said, smiling up at him expectantly.

‘I'm not sure when you elevated yourself to such a position, Sharp, but as it happens there is something I wish you to do.'

‘Yes, sir, anything; you know that,' she said, throwing back her shoulders importantly and giving Pearce a superior look.

‘In that case, please clear these lunch things away,' he said. Sharp stood there gaping at him like a fish out of water. ‘Straight away, if you please,' the superintendent added. Rowan noticed his lips were twitching at the corners. Why, he was enjoying Sharp's discomfort, she thought.

With ill-concealed anger, the guard strode towards the table. ‘You heard what the superintendent said, Pearce. He would like the table cleared,' she ordered, glaring at the other woman.

‘I
believe I asked you to do that, Sharp. Now do get on with it,' he ordered, giving the guard a look that forbade refusal.

Knowing she was beaten, Sharp began gathering up the remains of their dinner things with much clattering and muttering under her breath.

‘Pearce, a word if I may?' the superintendent said, nodding towards the corridor. After they'd left the room, Rowan continued staring out of the window. She couldn't believe how the far the moors stretched away below. The mixture of lush greensward, golden gorse and mauve heather, bordered by dry-stone walling, all shimmered in the rays of the bright spring sunshine. She sighed deeply, longing to be outside, breathing in the fresh air. Then Sharp came and stood beside her and the ribbon around her wrist tightened.

‘See those dark shapes over there?' she asked, pointing to a row of dark standing stones that rose like sentinels in the distance far below them. ‘They were once women patients from the asylum? They tried to escape from here, but the devil chased after them and turned them into stone. So there they stay, in Hell for all eternity, as will you should you ever try and leave this place, loon,' she hissed. ‘Can you imagine being out there in the dead of night, not knowing if it's wind you can hear howling or the giant wolves that inhabit the moor on the prowl for their dinner? Besides, it's not as if your family even want you back.' Then, giving a harsh laugh, she picked up the tray and left the room.

Rowan stared down at the stones again and shivered.
Surely her father and Sab would want to see her again even if Fanny didn't?

Before she had time to ponder further, the superintendent strode back into the room. Taking his seat behind the desk, he beckoned to Rowan.

‘There are still a few more questions I need to ask, so please be seated.'

With a final look at the stones that now resembled a row of women, Rowan did as she'd been asked.

‘Earlier today, I believe you said you had actually seen a madman locked up in his room. Did you take yourself down to the men's accommodation?' the superintendent asked, eyeing her closely.

‘Of course I didn't. I had no idea where we were going when Sharp led me down there. It was a dreadful sight,' she said, shuddering at the memory. ‘That poor man, he looked like a haunted animal. Sharp said he had syphilis. It must be a terrible disease.'

‘It is one of the worst. But let me get this clear. You say Sharp took you to the male part of the asylum?' he asked. She nodded. ‘That is strictly against regulations. You have clearly been subjected to a sight you shouldn't have, and on behalf of Hell Tor Asylum, I can only apologize. However, I shall be carrying out a full investigation into that and the other matters you have raised,' he said.

‘Am I in trouble, sir?' Rowan asked, seeing the grave look on his face.

He sighed. ‘No, you aren't, Rowan, but as regulations have been breached, someone else might well be,' he said, opening a folder of blank paper, picking up a quill and
dipping it into the inkwell. He then proceeded to write at great length, the words flowing quickly.

Rowan tried not to fidget, but she was dying to ask what was going to happen to her. Only good manners prevented her from interrupting him. Finally, he put down his pen, carefully blotted the paper and then snapped the folder shut. His chair creaked as he settled back into it and steepled his fingers.

‘The question is, Rowan, what are we going to do with you?' he asked so seriously that her stomach churned.

‘But now that I've explained everything, surely you can release me and I can go home?' she asked.

He shook his head and her heart sank. Before she could ask why not, there was a rap on the door.

‘Enter,' the superintendent called, and then looked surprised as Sharp marched into the room, a triumphant gleam in her eye.

‘Excuse me, sir, but the receiving officer has arrived and wishes to see you straight away. I feel I should mention that he was not happy to find his office being used, and then when he heard about …' She jerked her head in Rowan's direction.

‘Thank you, Sharp,' the superintendent cut in. ‘Send him in to see me.'

‘Shall I take her back to her room?' Sharp asked, nodding at Rowan.

He shook his head. ‘Send Pearce in, too, please, and then return to your duties. If you are as busy as you always profess to be, then you must be behind today.' The woman's lips tightened as she strode from the room.