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"It's quite all right, Mrs. Jones, thank you. I believe a visit will do me good."
Felicity smiles in triumph.
"As you wish, miss. A short visit," she emphasizes, closing the door forcefully.
"Now you've done it. You've made Jonesy mad," I tease.
"How terrifying," Felicity says, rolling her eyes.
Ann examines the dress hanging just inside my cupboard. "You will be well enough to attend the hospital dance this evening, won't you?"
"Yes," I say."I shall be there. Don't worry, Tom will be there. He's not taken my chill."
"I am glad to hear he's in good health," she says, as if she hasn't been waiting to hear that all along.
Felicity examines me. "You've a naughty look on your face."
"I have interesting news." I hand them the letter.
Felicity and Ann sit on my bed, reading silently, their eyes going wide.
"It's her, isn't it?" Ann asks."Miss McCleethy is really Circe." "We've got her."I say.
"When she left Saint Victoria's, she was to take a post at a school near London where her sister is headmistress...," Felicity reads aloud.
"If that is true," I say, "Mrs. Nightwing is also suspect. We can no longer trust her."
CHAPTER THIRTY-THREE
AFTER A HALF HOUR SPENT PACING, IT IS DECIDED that we shall dispatch a note to the one person who may be of help to us, Miss Moore. I wait impatiently for the messenger's return, and just before I am to leave for the dance at Bethlem, her reply arrives.
Dear Gemma,
I too am troubled by these coincidences. Perhaps there is an explanation for it all, but for the present, I advise you to be on your guard. If she should show herself at Bethlem Royal, do what you must to keep her from your Nell Hawkins.
Your friend, Hester Asa Moore
Father has not come home for supper as he promised. There is no word. And he has Kartik and the carriage, so Tom and I are forced to hire a cab to take us to Bethlem. The hospital has been decorated nicely with holly and ivy, and the patients are dressed in their best, full of merriment and mischief.
I've brought flowers for Nell. One of the nurses takes me to the women's ward so that I might give them to her.
"What a beautiful corsage," the nurse says.
"Thank you," I murmur.
"Lucky day for our Miss Hawkins. That's twice she's gotten flowers."
"What do you mean?"
"She had a visitor today who brought her some nice roses."
A patient waltzes past with an imaginary partner.
"A visitor? What was her name?" I ask.
The nurse purses her lips in thought. "I can't remember, I'm afraid. It's been such a day! Mr. Snow's been in a very agitated state of mind. Dr. Smith told him if he didn't settle himself, he'd lose his privileges for the dance. Here we are," she says as we arrive at a small sitting room.
Nell is as disheveled as I've ever seen her. Her thin hair, splintered and broken, falls about her shoulders like a ruin. She's sitting alone, holding Cassandra's cage on her lap. The bird squawks to Nell, who murmurs sweet words in return. On the table beside her is a vase of bright red roses.
