Temperance paced the corridor outside Alice’s room, waiting for the doctor to emerge. It had been the most trying of mornings. Everything she had strived so hard for seemed to be slipping away. Her usual tight rein on matters had loosened and been replaced by mess, anguish and inconvenience. Of all the staff to suffer such an unspeakable accident, why did it have to be Lillie? The one servant that Lady Egerton had particularly recommended and the only servant she was ever likely to ask after. Temperance felt as though she had been entrusted with a beloved pet and had failed utterly in her duty to care for it. And as for Alice – Temperance closed her eyes and took a few slow breaths – the girl had surpassed herself in wickedness. It was insufferable. No mother could be expected to raise a child like that.
She thought again of the terrible moment she had seen the burned stays in Alice’s fireplace. It had taken all her strength to resist the urge to strike Alice with the poker – straight across her disobedient face. Temperance shuddered at the memory. She was glad Arthur was away on business. He was too protective of Alice, and too fond of making excuses for her behaviour: she was high-spirited, she was unusually intelligent for a girl, she needed more to occupy her mind. He was soft on her, and Temperance had let it go on for far too long.
The door of Alice’s bedroom opened and Temperance gathered her features into a semblance of motherly concern.
‘It is not good news, I’m afraid,’ said Dr Danby, as he closed the door behind him and turned the key.
‘Oh,’ said Temperance, and she put her hand to her throat in what she hoped was a suitable response. She felt her heart fluttering excitedly beneath the silk of her morning robe. ‘What happened in there?’ she asked. ‘What has happened to your face?’
‘Your daughter attacked me.’ Dr Danby brought his fingers to his face and touched his ink-stained cheek. ‘In an unprovoked violent outburst.’
Temperance caught her breath. This was better than she could ever have wished for. This was solid proof that Alice was quite out of control. And it had all been witnessed by a respected medical man. Arthur’s arguments would mean nothing now. ‘This is most dreadful, doctor,’ she whispered. ‘What can be done with her?’
‘You need to prepare yourself for the worst,’ he said. ‘It is my opinion that Alice is suffering from a disease of the nerves. She is displaying all the classic symptoms of hysteria. A refusal to cooperate or conform to the expectations of society, a tendency to cause trouble, a melancholic demeanour and, of course, the violent outbursts – the burning of her stays and the attack on me.’ He paused for breath. ‘If she were a little older,’ he continued, ‘I would suggest you find her a husband. The married state is often the best cure for cases such as this. But as it is … ’ He tailed off.
‘But what, doctor?’ asked Temperance. ‘What is the answer then?’
Dr Danby cleared his throat. ‘Would you rather discuss this elsewhere? It is a delicate matter.’
Temperance shook her head. ‘No, doctor. Please continue.’ She knew what he was going to suggest, and she didn’t want to wait another minute to hear it.
‘Well,’ he said. ‘There is a place in Bristol. Brislington House. It is a private lunatic asylum. Most discreet. And is run by a Dr Fox.’
‘You can secure a place for Alice there?’ asked Temperance, trying to keep the elation from her voice.
‘I can certainly have a word with Dr Fox. I have recommended other patients to him in the past.’
‘And do you believe he can cure Alice?’ asked Temperance. ‘Will she ever behave as she should?’
‘Well, obviously every patient is different.’ Dr Danby lowered his voice as a maid hurried by with an armful of linen. ‘Some take to treatment better than others,’ he continued. ‘But I must tell you, to allay any fears you may have, that Dr Fox does not practise the traditional methods of treating the insane.’
‘And what are the traditional methods of treating the insane?’ Temperance felt vaguely insulted. ‘I have had no previous experience in these matters.’
‘No, no … of course you haven’t,’ Dr Danby stuttered. ‘What I mean to say is that rather than using mechanical restraints, for example, or bleeding, purging and forced vomiting, Dr Fox uses much gentler methods on his inmates. What he practises is known as moral therapy.’
‘I have no interest in what it is called,’ said Temperance firmly. ‘Only that my daughter will be cured of her … her madness, and that she will cease to be an embarrassment to me.’
‘I have high hopes that she can be cured,’ said Dr Danby. ‘Dr Fox has an excellent record. He runs his asylum like a well-ordered household. He believes a patient’s sanity can be restored through self-discipline and a strict regime of punishment and reward.’
Temperance nodded impatiently. ‘Yes, yes. But how soon can you arrange for her committal?’
‘I will make some initial enquiries today,’ said the doctor. ‘But I presume you will wish to wait for your husband’s return to discuss the matter with him?’
‘Make your enquiries, please, Doctor. And rest assured that my husband will be in total agreement with your diagnosis and my decision. In matters concerning our children, he trusts me implicitly.’ Temperance held out her hand. ‘Now, I bid you a good morning and I hope to hear from you soon, regarding all necessary arrangements.’
Temperance hurried back to her room. She felt light on her feet and wonderfully refreshed. If the doctor was true to his word, Alice could be out of the house by the morning. Arthur would be incensed, of course. But she would deal with him when he came home. She would make him see that sending Alice away was for her own good and, more importantly, would help protect the family reputation.
She sat at her dressing table and studied her face in the mirror. Admiring her near perfect features was one of Temperance’s greatest pleasures. She was ageing well, and was still by far the most attractive woman in her circle. But she was overly critical, and as she stared at her pale skin, she could not help noticing the faint trace of lines that had recently appeared around her eyes and at the corners of her mouth. She frowned. It was all Alice’s fault. All the trouble and worry that girl caused was bound to leave its mark.
Temperance reached for her toilet chest and opened the polished walnut lid. Inside, the chest was lined with dark green velvet and nestled into various pockets were numerous silver-topped glass bottles and pots, a small pair of silver scissors and a pair of mother-of-pearl tweezers. Her little box of magic, she thought guiltily. It was much frowned upon for any lady of good standing to embellish her face with cosmetics. It was a vulgar practice, only indulged in by vile creatures who sold themselves on the streets and the painted ladies of the stage. But Temperance was shrewd, and excelled in the subtle application of certain ingredients that enhanced her beauty and disguised any signs of ageing. Her beauty had, after all, served her well so far, and deserved to be protected.
Hidden in the toilet chest, amongst bottles of respectable medicinal treatments, were Temperance’s pots of wonder, and in particular, her precious pot of Crème Celeste – obtained from a discreet chemist in Bristol. She unscrewed the lid, and in a moment her blemishes and small lines disappeared under a coat of the waxy paste as she smoothed it deftly over her face. The paste smelled pleasantly of sweet almonds and rosewater, and the scent relaxed Temperance as she moved through her daily routine: a touch of carmine to her cheeks, a slick of beeswax to her lips and a drop of lemon juice in each eye. She felt calm, her balance of mind restored, and as her face bloomed back at her from the mirror, her mind filled with thoughts and plans. Once Alice was out of the way, she would be able to concentrate fully on the smooth running of the household and her work with the Bridgwater Ladies’ Committee. She would let it be known that Alice had been sent to relatives in the north, and as for Lillie … well, even if the girl survived she could not come back to Lions House. There would not be a position for her once Alice had gone, and besides, a mute servant was of no use to anyone.
Temperance plucked a stray hair from her brow. She would organise an arrangement of flowers to be sent over to Lady Egerton, the most elaborate that money could buy. The situation could be salvaged. After all, her Ladyship could hardly blame Temperance for Lillie’s accident when she herself had succumbed to misfortune. Temperance smiled into the mirror. A last dusting of ground pearl powder to her cheeks and a dab of lavender behind each ear, then she would ring for Jane to come and dress her.