there.’
She submitted with good grace and we set off back the way we had come. The road was as lonely as before, except for a solitary gypsy woman carrying a basket. She made as if to approach us, with hand already outstretched to beg. But then she saw Lucy’s face. She abandoned her attempt to accost us and hurried on towards the village. As she did, she made a surreptitious gesture, warding away something unseen.
She thinks we’re unlucky I mused wryly. But I’d no time to worry about trivial incidents like that. Shore House had come into sight and my precarious truce with Lucy was broken.
Dr Lefebre stood in front of the gate, looking up and down the road. The suspicion entered my mind he was looking for us. I fancy Lucy thought the same.
‘Horrid, horrid man!’ she shouted at him with every intention he hear her.
‘Hush…’ I gripped her arm in alarm. It wouldn’t help her if he were to write in his notes that she’d abused him on the open road with the energy of a London street urchin.
She turned on me in another burst of that sudden passion I’d witnessed in the churchyard. ‘Oh, you see, you’ll take his part. No one will take mine! Well, I won’t meet him. I won’t talk to him. I won’t see him!’
To my horror she then stooped, scooped up a stone from the highway and threw it at Lefebre, screaming again, ‘Go away, do you hear me?’
Fortunately her aim was poor. The pebble fell well short and bounced along the surface to rest a few feet from him. Lefebre gazed down at it with a detached interest and no show of surprise.
The thought raced through my brain: well, he will write that down in his notes.
‘Lucy!’ I hissed. ‘Don’t you see what harm you’re doing to your own cause?’
She burst into tears. ‘Leave me alone, all of you! Don’t follow me, Lizzie, do you hear?’
Grasping her skirts, away she ran again, straight past the doctor without looking at him, through the gates and down a path beside the house.
‘Dear me,’ I heard him murmur as he stared after her. He turned to me as I came up to him and raised his eyebrows.
‘We visited the child’s grave,’ I explained, ‘so please excuse her. Why are you standing here? Were you looking for us? Because if you were, I really wish you’d kept out of the way. You can see how the sight of you upsets her. Is it to be wondered at? She believes you’ve come to take her to your madhouse.’
‘Clinic,’ he protested mildly. ‘No, I wasn’t waiting for you and Mrs Craven. As it happens, I’m waiting while Greenaway saddles a horse for me. I intend to ride out over the heath.’
I realised then that he wore riding breeches and top boots, although he still had his neatly buttoned black coat and shiny hat. His gloves had been changed for those of pigskin.
Oh, Lizzie! I thought ruefully. Perhaps I ought to apologise for accusing him but before I could, he spoke again.
‘I agree Mrs Craven did seem a little put out. She recognised the grave as her child’s?’
But I’d no intention of telling him of Lucy’s behaviour and accusations in the churchyard.
‘I’ve told you,’ I reminded him, ‘I won’t be your spy. I won’t report to you or anyone else on any conversation I may have with Mrs Craven. She needs to feel she can trust someone, that there is someone she can confide in who won’t gossip and won’t be prejudiced in any way about her state of mind or anything else.’
‘Oh, I respect that,’ he replied hastily. ‘I agree, she does need a friend whom she can trust.’
There was an awkward moment. ‘Dr Lefebre,’ I began, highly embarrassed, ‘although I can’t confide in you, there is one matter I would like to ask you about, if you’ll allow me, of course. I do appreciate I propose an unfair trade. I’ll quite understand if you tell me to mind my own business.’
He raised his eyebrows but said nothing. I was forced to blunder on.
‘It concerns James Craven and his going to China. It seems
She submitted with good grace and we set off back the way we had come. The road was as lonely as before, except for a solitary gypsy woman carrying a basket. She made as if to approach us, with hand already outstretched to beg. But then she saw Lucy’s face. She abandoned her attempt to accost us and hurried on towards the village. As she did, she made a surreptitious gesture, warding away something unseen.
She thinks we’re unlucky I mused wryly. But I’d no time to worry about trivial incidents like that. Shore House had come into sight and my precarious truce with Lucy was broken.
Dr Lefebre stood in front of the gate, looking up and down the road. The suspicion entered my mind he was looking for us. I fancy Lucy thought the same.
‘Horrid, horrid man!’ she shouted at him with every intention he hear her.
‘Hush…’ I gripped her arm in alarm. It wouldn’t help her if he were to write in his notes that she’d abused him on the open road with the energy of a London street urchin.
She turned on me in another burst of that sudden passion I’d witnessed in the churchyard. ‘Oh, you see, you’ll take his part. No one will take mine! Well, I won’t meet him. I won’t talk to him. I won’t see him!’
To my horror she then stooped, scooped up a stone from the highway and threw it at Lefebre, screaming again, ‘Go away, do you hear me?’
Fortunately her aim was poor. The pebble fell well short and bounced along the surface to rest a few feet from him. Lefebre gazed down at it with a detached interest and no show of surprise.
The thought raced through my brain: well, he will write that down in his notes.
‘Lucy!’ I hissed. ‘Don’t you see what harm you’re doing to your own cause?’
She burst into tears. ‘Leave me alone, all of you! Don’t follow me, Lizzie, do you hear?’
Grasping her skirts, away she ran again, straight past the doctor without looking at him, through the gates and down a path beside the house.
‘Dear me,’ I heard him murmur as he stared after her. He turned to me as I came up to him and raised his eyebrows.
‘We visited the child’s grave,’ I explained, ‘so please excuse her. Why are you standing here? Were you looking for us? Because if you were, I really wish you’d kept out of the way. You can see how the sight of you upsets her. Is it to be wondered at? She believes you’ve come to take her to your madhouse.’
‘Clinic,’ he protested mildly. ‘No, I wasn’t waiting for you and Mrs Craven. As it happens, I’m waiting while Greenaway saddles a horse for me. I intend to ride out over the heath.’
I realised then that he wore riding breeches and top boots, although he still had his neatly buttoned black coat and shiny hat. His gloves had been changed for those of pigskin.
Oh, Lizzie! I thought ruefully. Perhaps I ought to apologise for accusing him but before I could, he spoke again.
‘I agree Mrs Craven did seem a little put out. She recognised the grave as her child’s?’
But I’d no intention of telling him of Lucy’s behaviour and accusations in the churchyard.
‘I’ve told you,’ I reminded him, ‘I won’t be your spy. I won’t report to you or anyone else on any conversation I may have with Mrs Craven. She needs to feel she can trust someone, that there is someone she can confide in who won’t gossip and won’t be prejudiced in any way about her state of mind or anything else.’
‘Oh, I respect that,’ he replied hastily. ‘I agree, she does need a friend whom she can trust.’
There was an awkward moment. ‘Dr Lefebre,’ I began, highly embarrassed, ‘although I can’t confide in you, there is one matter I would like to ask you about, if you’ll allow me, of course. I do appreciate I propose an unfair trade. I’ll quite understand if you tell me to mind my own business.’
He raised his eyebrows but said nothing. I was forced to blunder on.
‘It concerns James Craven and his going to China. It seems
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