Arnold dressed hastily. Two weeks of sweet-talking had gone by. He’d intended waiting a week or two more before making his next move, but that damned copper had come calling again yesterday. Sylvia’s fluttering hands and blushing cheeks when she’d told him of the visit had alarmed Arnold. He wasn’t about to let the woman be whipped out from under his nose.
He walked from the lean-to into the cottage, meeting a sleepy-eyed Jack in the hallway.
‘You’re up bright and early,’ the boy mumbled.
‘It’s my back. I couldn’t sleep a wink last night for the pain.’
‘What have you done to it?’
‘Ah, it’s the same old problem, lad. Starts up now and again and, once it does, it’s as much as I can do to put one foot in front of the other. I’m not going to be much use to you at the mill today.’
Wide awake now, Jack frowned. ‘You know we’re behind on orders — you can’t be thinking of staying at home?’
‘I’ll be there, lad. I won’t let you down.’ Arnold took a step, let out a yelp and fell against the wall. ‘Damnation! Much as I hate to say this, rest’s the only cure for it. I’d be no use to you today, Jack, you must see that. I promise I’ll work twice as hard soon as I’m able, to make up for it.’ He limped into the kitchen, a grin on his face at the knowledge that Jack would be glaring daggers at his back.
Sylvia rushed to pull out a chair for him.
‘It’s my back, Sylvia. I can scarcely stay on my feet. You wouldn’t believe the pain I’m in.’
‘You’re never going to the mill, are you?’
Before he could answer, Jack stomped into the room. ‘He was walking all right when I saw him in the hallway,’ he said, a sullen look on his face.
‘Yes, I was, lad. But this here back of mine’s like that. Comes and goes, and I never know just when it’s going to give me grief,’ said Arnold, all oily charm. He turned to Sylvia. ‘I didn’t get any sleep last night. Every time I moved it was like needles stabbing me, but I’m not one for giving in, Sylvia. I made myself get out of bed this morning. And would you know it? My back completely let me down just as I was talking to Jack here. I’d only be a hindrance, a danger to him if I tried to carry on.’
Jack set out for the mill alone.
Arnold returned to his room and dozed until lunchtime, when he knew Libby would have gone to the mill with Jack’s lunch. Then he got up and went out to the kitchen.
‘You’re looking better for the rest,’ Sylvia said, sounding relieved. ‘I was about to bring you a luncheon tray.’
‘I’m not feeling as poorly as I was earlier, Sylvia.’ Arnold rubbed his back, hissing in a breath as if in pain.
‘Oh, dear me, it’s still not finished with you. Do you think you should rest a while longer?’
Sylvia’s worried frown was exactly the reaction Arnold had hoped for. ‘No, no, Sylvia. I’ve something to say to you, and I would like you to sit with me a while.’
Impatient to further his campaign, and wanting to set her on edge so her thinking could be more easily influenced, he assumed a grave face.
‘Sylvia, I feel as bad as a man can, but I have to tell you — I cannot stay here any longer.’
‘Oh!’ Sylvia looked stricken. ‘But I thought we had agreed you would! What’s caused this change of heart? Have I offended you in some way? Are you dissatisfied with your wages? Can I offer you more?’
The questions were fired staccato. It was going even better than Arnold had hoped.
‘No, no, Sylvia, you have not offended me … the very opposite, in fact. I was more than happy to stay a few more months. You look after my needs very well. And I’ve no quarrel with my wages.’ He paused, giving her time to absorb his words, to start fretting in earnest.
‘Then why, Arnold? Why do you feel the need to leave?’
‘Ah, Sylvia, I would rather not say. You’re a gentlewoman by nature, if not by birth. It would only distress you to know.’
Alarm flickered in Sylvia’s eyes, but Arnold remained silent.
‘Arnold, I’m made of sterner mettle than you credit me with. I demand you tell me your reason for leaving. I shall not rest until I know. You say I have not offended you, but what other reason can there be for your eagerness to be on your way?’
‘Ah, Sylvia … I would rather not have been the one to tell you, but … it’s come to my notice that some folk around the town — folk who are too idle for their own good, I might add — have been spreading gossip and lies, blackening your character.’
‘Blackening my character?’
‘I’m a single man, Sylvia, and you’re a widow woman.’ Arnold looked at her with a knowing shrug.
‘Oh!’ Sylvia pressed her palms to her suddenly glowing cheeks.
‘You do see why I have to leave, don’t you?’
‘I never thought — how could people — you are so much younger than I.’ Sylvia’s words came out in a gasping rush.
‘Not so you’d notice,’ said Arnold, cunning in his flattery. ‘You’re a handsome woman, Sylvia,’ he lied without a qualm. ‘There was bound to be talk.’
‘How soon will you be leaving?’
‘That depends. I’ve a proposition to put to you.’
He hid a smile at Sylvia’s hopeful expression.
‘I find I am reluctant to leave, as a certain person has taken hold of my heart. I ask myself if this lady might begin to return my affection?’ He reached for her hands. ‘Sylvia, if we were to marry, it would put a stop to gossip. Would you consider … would you do me the honour of becoming my wife?’
‘Arnold! This is the last thing I expected to hear you say.’
‘I cannot think why. Surely you must have noticed my fondness for you these past months?’
‘I-I cannot say that I have. I’m flattered by your proposal. Immensely so, but I must think upon it.’
‘Much as I’d like to let you have time to do so, I must have my answer now. I’ve heard of an opening in Nelson that could lead to me becoming my own man. I must be away by tomorrow if I’m to beat rivals for the position.’
‘So soon?’ Sylvia’s voice pitched with shock.
‘I’m afraid so. I’ve not said anything sooner. I didn’t want you fretting and worrying about managing on your own,’ he said, aware it would send her into a panic. ‘This solution to the problem did not occur to me until last evening, and I’ve been steeling myself to ask for your hand in marriage.’
‘Oh, heavens … then yes, Arnold, yes, I’d be honoured to become your wife.’
‘You’ve made me a happy man.’ He gripped Sylvia’s hands tightly, almost feeling her money and property flowing through to him. He was taken aback to see Libby standing in the doorway, watching them, her expression blacker than coal.
The following week Sylvia took Libby to a doctor in Hokitika. He questioned Sylvia, then, after examining Libby, sent her out of the room. He frowned at Sylvia over the rims of his spectacles.
‘From what you have told me and what I have observed, Mrs Budd, it’s clear your daughter’s illness is in her mind.’ He leaned forward, elbows on his desk, fingers steepled together. ‘I am confident she would benefit greatly if she were to spend some time at Seaview, where she could be helped.’
‘Seaview … the asylum?’ Sylvia looked at him aghast. ‘But that place is full of criminals!’
The doctor gave her a patronising smile. ‘No, no, Mrs Budd. I assure you there are no criminals harboured at Seaview. Before we had an institution for those affected by lunacy, they were indeed kept cheek by jowl with the criminals in the local jail, but that has not been the case for many years.’ He sat back, a look of pride on his face. ‘Seaview is a fine hospital and we are most fortunate in having a superintendent and matron of the calibre of Mr and Mrs Gribben at the helm.’
‘But … Libby locked away … with mad folk?’ Sylvia shook her head vehemently. ‘Oh no, Doctor, I couldn’t allow that.’
‘My dear Mrs Budd, your daughter will not be locked away from society. Mr and Mrs Gribben see that the inmates are taken for weekly walks. Often a ride through the town is organised for them. Sometimes a concert is put on for their entertainment.’
Sylvia was far from persuaded. ‘That’s as may be, but an asylum is for mad people — people who have lost their minds.’
‘Your daughter has lost her mind,’ the doctor said bluntly. ‘Not only that, her seizures are escalating. She needs medical attention, and that she will receive in abundance in Seaview.’
Up until now, as exasperating as Sylvia had found Will’s conviction that Libby had a mind that worked as others’ did, deep down she’d also held a slim hope that this might be so. The doctor’s words were a body blow. ‘But she’s just a child still. Surely she is too young to be … to be mad.’
‘Lunacy is no respecter of age.’
‘Oh no, no.’ Shaking her head, Sylvia rose to her feet. ‘I will not abide her going into that place. Never! The shame of it! What would people say?’
‘It’s your decision, Mrs Budd. Nobody is forcing you to commit your daughter. Nonetheless, I am sure you would see a marked improvement in her condition were she to become a patient at the asylum.’ Removing his spectacles, he blew on them before taking an immaculate white handkerchief from his top pocket and polishing the lenses.
‘Ah … that’s better,’ he said, smiling, looking at Sylvia as if he’d been discussing the weather rather than advising her to send her daughter off to live with lunatics.