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p; She was stiff and very cold. She got up slowly. Her hair had fallen down and she had lost some of the pins, but that was a small thing. She must wake Mary, who was still tucked up with her face towards the wall, just as she had left her. She seemed hardly to have moved. The rug was not in the least disturbed.
“Mrs. Farraline,” she said as cheerfully as she could. “We are approaching London. Did you sleep well?”
Mary did not stir.
“Mrs. Farraline?”
Still no movement.
Hester touched her shoulder and shook her very gently. Some older people slept very deeply. “Mrs. Farraline!”
The shoulder did not yield at all; in fact, it seemed quite stiff.
Hester felt a twinge of alarm.
“Mrs. Farraline! Wake up! We are nearly in London!” she said with mounting urgency.
Still Mary did not move.
Hester pulled at her sharply and forced her over. Her eyes were closed, her face was white, and when Hester touched it the flesh was cold. Mary Farraline had been dead all night.
3
HESTER’S FIRST FEELING was one of profound loss. Long ago she might have had an initial moment of rejecting the fact altogether, refusing to believe Mary was dead, but she had seen too much death not to recognize it, even when it was completely without warning. Last night Mary had seemed in excellent health and buoyant spirits, and yet she must have died quite early in the night. Her body was cold to the touch, and such stiffness took from four to six hours to achieve.
Hester pulled the blanket up over her, gently covering her face, and then stood back. The train was moving more slowly now, and there were houses in the gray, early morning beyond the rain-streaked windows.
Then the next emotion came: guilt. Mary had been her patient, entrusted to her care, and after only a few hours she was dead. Why? What had she done so badly? What had she bungled, or forgotten, that Mary had died without even a sound, no cry, no gasp, no struggle for breath? Or perhaps there had been, only Hester had been too soundly asleep to hear, and the clatter of the train had masked it.
She could not just continue to stand there, staring at the motionless form under the rug. She must tell the authorities, beginning with the conductor and the guard. Then of course when they reached the station there would be the stationmaster, and possibly the police. After that, infinitely worse, she would have to tell Griselda Murdoch. The thought of that made her feel a little sick.
Better begin. Standing there would not help anything, and the contemplation of it was only adding to the hurt. Feeling numb she went to the compartment entranceway, in her awkwardness banging her elbow on the wooden partition. She was cold and stiff with tension. It hurt more than it would have normally, but she had no time for pain. Which way to go? Either. It made no difference. Just do something, don’t stand undecided. She went left, towards the front of the train.
“Conductor! Conductor! Where are you?”
A military man with a mustache peered around a corner and stared at her. He drew breath to speak, but she had rushed on.
“Conductor!”
A very thin woman with gray hair looked at her sharply.
“Goodness, girl, whatever is the matter? Must you make so much noise?”
“Have you seen the conductor?” Hester demanded breathlessly.
“No I haven’t. But for heaven’s sake lower your voice.” And without further comment she withdrew into her compartment.
“Can I help you, miss?”
She spun around. It was the conductor at last, his bland face unsuspecting of the trouble she was about to impart. Perhaps he was used to hysterical female passengers. She made an effort to keep her voice calm and under some control.
“I am afraid something very serious has happened….” Why was she shaking so much? She had seen hundreds of dead bodies before.
“Yes, miss. What would that be?” He was still quite unmoved, merely politely interested.
“I am afraid Mrs. Farraline, the lady with whom I was traveling, has died in the night.”
“Probably just asleep, miss. Some folk sleep very deep—”
