was quietly put aside.
Anne Marie inched open the door, and crept into the room; she put her fingers to her lips and looked at the dressing table. She began to take all the bottles of medicine and pills and then she rifled the vanity cases. Her arms full of bottles, she came to Hilda's side and whispered. "The doctor said she is to have no more medication, no more sedation, unless from him!"
Anne Marie hurried from the room and returned with a large packet, unwrapped it, and held it out to show Hilda.
"You know what this is?"
Hilda shook her head, and put her fingers to her lips for Anne Marie to lower her voice.
"It's a straitjacket! I don't know about this great doctor, if you ask me he's yet another quack…so I got this just in case."
Anne Marie put the jacket down, was about to leave when she saw that the drips were not attached. "Who took those out?"
Hilda gripped Vebekka's hand and whispered, "I did, they were causing her pain; let her sleep."
Anne Marie pursed her lips. "She needs glucose, she's got to keep up her strength. I'll have to redo them."
Hilda felt the baroness's fingers tighten, her grip was so tight it hurt her. Hilda knew she was awake, but she didn't give her away.
"When she wakes, I'll call you, but she has just eaten, and I think it is better she sleep."
Anne Marie hesitated and then walked to the door. "But I have not seen them, and I will not take any responsibility…"
The grip relaxed, and Hilda gently patted Vebekka's hand. She straightened the bedcovers, and was touched when the sick woman slipped her arms around Hilda's neck and kissed her in gratitude.
"I have a terrible fear of needles—of things in my body—she knows, but she hates me. Thank you."
Hilda smiled, returned to her chair. She picked up her knitting, and Vebekka laughed softly. "Not knitting needles, though!"
♦ ♦ ♦
Dr. Franks swiveled in his chair. "Your nurse, Anne Marie, says your wife has some kind of, well, not exactly an obsession, but boxes, vanity boxes…she always travels with three, sometimes four, yes?"
The baron looked puzzled. "Yes, they are part of her luggage, one is for her jewelry, one for makeup, one for medical and…I suppose it seems excessive, but not out of the ordinary. I can't understand why on earth the girl would even discuss my wife's traveling accessories with you!"
Franks leaned on his elbows. "Because I asked. You and your wife travel extensively? And these boxes always accompany her?"
"Yes, so do our cases, and trunks. Perhaps you will find some ulterior motive in the fact I always have more…"
Franks interrupted. "I am interested only in your wife at the moment, Baron, and the fact she always travels with an extensive wardrobe, but rarely if ever wears three quarters of the contents. According to Anne Marie many items your wife insists on traveling with have never been worn, yes? What I am trying to determine is, does your wife appear, in your personal opinion, to have items of clothing in very different styles? Does she, perhaps, appear to you as different characters, or seem different to you at times?"
"That is the entire reason I am here. My wife has periods of sanity and insanity."
Franks wandered around the room. "Has anyone ever suggested to you that your wife may have a personality disorder? Could she possibly be a multiple personality?"
The baron shook his head and glared at Helen Masters.
Franks turned his attention to her. "What do you think?"
"No, I don't think she is, or I didn't, but she said something that'll interest you. I wrote it down actually."
Helen opened her bag and took out a small notebook. "When I found her last night, she said, 'We have done something terrible.' Not I, but we."
The telephone rang. Franks snatched it up, but spoke only a second before he handed it to the baron.
"It's for you, long distance. If you need privacy, I am sure Dr. Masters and I can…"
The baron gestured with his hand for them to stay, as he
Anne Marie inched open the door, and crept into the room; she put her fingers to her lips and looked at the dressing table. She began to take all the bottles of medicine and pills and then she rifled the vanity cases. Her arms full of bottles, she came to Hilda's side and whispered. "The doctor said she is to have no more medication, no more sedation, unless from him!"
Anne Marie hurried from the room and returned with a large packet, unwrapped it, and held it out to show Hilda.
"You know what this is?"
Hilda shook her head, and put her fingers to her lips for Anne Marie to lower her voice.
"It's a straitjacket! I don't know about this great doctor, if you ask me he's yet another quack…so I got this just in case."
Anne Marie put the jacket down, was about to leave when she saw that the drips were not attached. "Who took those out?"
Hilda gripped Vebekka's hand and whispered, "I did, they were causing her pain; let her sleep."
Anne Marie pursed her lips. "She needs glucose, she's got to keep up her strength. I'll have to redo them."
Hilda felt the baroness's fingers tighten, her grip was so tight it hurt her. Hilda knew she was awake, but she didn't give her away.
"When she wakes, I'll call you, but she has just eaten, and I think it is better she sleep."
Anne Marie hesitated and then walked to the door. "But I have not seen them, and I will not take any responsibility…"
The grip relaxed, and Hilda gently patted Vebekka's hand. She straightened the bedcovers, and was touched when the sick woman slipped her arms around Hilda's neck and kissed her in gratitude.
"I have a terrible fear of needles—of things in my body—she knows, but she hates me. Thank you."
Hilda smiled, returned to her chair. She picked up her knitting, and Vebekka laughed softly. "Not knitting needles, though!"
♦ ♦ ♦
Dr. Franks swiveled in his chair. "Your nurse, Anne Marie, says your wife has some kind of, well, not exactly an obsession, but boxes, vanity boxes…she always travels with three, sometimes four, yes?"
The baron looked puzzled. "Yes, they are part of her luggage, one is for her jewelry, one for makeup, one for medical and…I suppose it seems excessive, but not out of the ordinary. I can't understand why on earth the girl would even discuss my wife's traveling accessories with you!"
Franks leaned on his elbows. "Because I asked. You and your wife travel extensively? And these boxes always accompany her?"
"Yes, so do our cases, and trunks. Perhaps you will find some ulterior motive in the fact I always have more…"
Franks interrupted. "I am interested only in your wife at the moment, Baron, and the fact she always travels with an extensive wardrobe, but rarely if ever wears three quarters of the contents. According to Anne Marie many items your wife insists on traveling with have never been worn, yes? What I am trying to determine is, does your wife appear, in your personal opinion, to have items of clothing in very different styles? Does she, perhaps, appear to you as different characters, or seem different to you at times?"
"That is the entire reason I am here. My wife has periods of sanity and insanity."
Franks wandered around the room. "Has anyone ever suggested to you that your wife may have a personality disorder? Could she possibly be a multiple personality?"
The baron shook his head and glared at Helen Masters.
Franks turned his attention to her. "What do you think?"
"No, I don't think she is, or I didn't, but she said something that'll interest you. I wrote it down actually."
Helen opened her bag and took out a small notebook. "When I found her last night, she said, 'We have done something terrible.' Not I, but we."
The telephone rang. Franks snatched it up, but spoke only a second before he handed it to the baron.
"It's for you, long distance. If you need privacy, I am sure Dr. Masters and I can…"
The baron gestured with his hand for them to stay, as he
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