Spider Light(15)

Dr Glass had not eyed Bryony at all; there was nothing in the least bit ogle-some about Dr Glass. The Prout sometimes wondered audibly about his private life, asking whether there was not something a little strange about a gentleman of thirty-five or thirty-eight who was not married, but most of Latchkill’s nurses considered this to be pure pique. There had been a story a year or two back that Prout had tried to inveigle Dr Glass into a romantic liaison with her, only to be rejected. This surprised nobody.

Bryony had no idea if the story was true, but it was certainly true that most of the nurses were halfway in love with Dr Glass. Byrony was not even a quarter of the way in love with him, although she would not have minded if he had stared at any part of her during today’s meeting. But he was far too much of a gentleman to do any such thing.



Maud could not imagine how Thomasina could bring herself to go to Latchkill–to go through those gates and walk along the gloomy tree-fringed drive, and step across Latchkill’s threshhold–but Thomasina said it was something that had to be done. Her father had set up a trust to help some of the poor souls in the place, and the mantle of that had fallen on Thomasina’s shoulders, so to speak. Noblesse oblige and all that.

Maud had said, ‘Oh. Oh, yes, I see,’ but had to repress a shudder at the thought of Latchkill with the spider light inside its rooms, and the deep badness at its heart.

There had been quite a lot of shudders to repress since coming to live at Quire House not connected with Latchkill but with what Maud thought of as ‘It’.

‘It’ had happened about a week after she had gone to Quire. She had been enjoying her stay, and she had liked the bedroom Thomasina had given her and everything had been very nice indeed. And then, one night after Maud had retired, Thomasina came into the bedroom and sat down to watch Maud get undressed. This was disconcerting, but Maud was still a bit over-awed by Quire and by Thomasina’s friendship. Thomasina had already given Maud several beautiful silk and velvet gowns and had talked about how they would go into Chester one day soon to buy brushes and painting materials so Maud could set up a proper artist’s studio while she was here.

So Maud did not want to seem ungrateful, and it was silly to feel embarrassed about taking one’s clothes off–it was not like undressing in front of a man. So she undressed, trying not to shiver as she did so–it was September, but the night was warm, and she could not possibly be feeling cold–and put on the delicate lawn nightgown laid out on the pillow for her. This, it seemed, was another of Thomasina’s presents, and so Maud said how pretty it was.

‘White,’ said Thomasina. ‘Wear it tonight, will you?’

It was a bit worrying to see Thomasina watching her so intensely. Maud had never before noticed what red, wet-looking lips Thomasina had, but probably that was only the glow from the gas jets. Once in bed with the sheets pulled up to her chin, Maud felt better. Safer. Less vulnerable.

She did not feel less vulnerable for long because Thomasina then undressed. It was embarrassing to see this important lady taking off her clothes, and noticing that her thighs were lean and a bit stringy-looking, and that she had a lot of coarse hair between her legs–much more than Maud had. Maud shut her eyes and pretended to be asleep, but Thomasina climbed into the big soft bed, and turned down the gas so the room was dark. The wet red lips began to kiss Maud so intensely and so probingly that she could scarcely breathe. She began to feel frightened; it had not previously occurred to her that ladies got into bed together or kissed one another with such fierceness. When Thomasina’s hands began to explore her body in the most surprising fashion, she had to fight not to push them away.

She did not do so because of not wanting to offend Thomasina, and also in case this was something people did when they were grown up. Thomasina murmured how Maud was the dearest, sweetest, most beautiful person in the world, which was not something anyone had ever said to her before. Perhaps it was not so unpleasant to be stroked and kissed in this way. Maud was aware of a sudden surge of power when, some little time later, Thomasina’s usually stern face twisted and she cried out with joy.

The prodding and stroking seemed to be over, and Maud was able to lie back on the pillows. She had not really understood why Thomasina had cried out and suddenly seemed so weak, but as she drifted into sleep, she thought that if having done this–maybe even having to do it again–meant she could stay in this beautiful house and be given silk gowns and a real studio, then perhaps she could manage it. Father was always complaining about how much things cost nowadays, and saying, ‘Oh my goodness, just look at the household books this month’, or wondering how he could afford to get the roof of Toft House repaired, and Maud thought she would enjoy not having to hear about that.

But as she finally tumbled over into sleep, she was guiltily aware of hoping that this was not something Thomasina would expect to happen very often.



But Thomasina expected ‘It’ to happen a great many times–practically every night and sometimes during the night as well. There were even some mornings when ‘It’ happened straight after they woke up. Maud hated the early-morning times most of all; she always felt crumpled and stale when she woke up, and thought that if she had to be prodded by Thomasina’s hands and fingers and be made to prod Thomasina back, she would have much preferred to get out of bed and wash, clean her teeth and brush her hair first.

But there were compensations. Three days after that night they had driven into the nearby town to talk to someone about artists’ materials, and had returned to Quire House with the forward seat of the carriage piled with packages containing silky paintbrushes, sticks of charcoal, blocks of satiny paper and–best of all–a real easel which was to be set up in the music room.