Solid Walls

A Long Time Ago

"Suzanna? How is my darling girl?"

Suzanna turned as her mother appeared in the room, holding an oil lamp in one hand and the train of her skirt in the other. Sue was always amazed how her mother was able to keep the intricate coil of her hair so tidy, her wide skirts untorn and untouched by dirt even after their climbs up those awful stairs. She sat up straighter and tried to smooth her nightgown as her mother sat on the bed beside her.

"I'm fine, mother," she said.

"I waited until I saw the doctor's carriage pull away before I came up to see you. What did he say, sweet one? Did you answer all his questions as we practiced?"

Sue looked down at her hands as her mother fussed with her mess of hair. "I tried. I tried to sound calm and dignified, truly I did. But I got agitated again. I forgot what I was supposed to say, and when I asked him when I would be allowed to go out again, he just kind of—of smiled and said soon. Not now, but soon. I just can't get my thoughts in the right order, mother, I can't speak so soft and perfect like you do..."

"That's all right, darling." Sue heard the disappointment in her mother's voice.

"Don't you think I could sneak downstairs tonight?" she asked. "Perhaps it will do me some good? Not too far, just a turn about the library? The maids would never know, we could use the—"

Her mother shook her head. "Your father will be home tonight, remember? The doctor will have already spoken to him. Amuse yourself with the books I gave you yesterday, little one. You are keeping them hidden away, aren't you? The doctor is not to know you have them."

Sue nodded. "Of course, mother."

"Now, I do have some good news, darling. I know you've been asking about a new maid because Dorna is so cold with you. Well, the Binghams have had to dismiss an Irish girl—their daughters are married now and they don't need the help. She comes highly recommended."

"Truly, mother? That is wonderful, thank you, thank you!"

"Calm, child, don't get excited. I have yet to ask your father for permission. But I'm sure I can get him to agree to it, if I use my words with care. That's the trick, darling. You just have to use your words with care. Make sure you're saying the right things the right way so no one is troubled and all can be well, isn't that right?"

"Yes, mother," Sue said. "I really do try, mother." She fiddled with the frayed edge of her hem. "Is the portrait finished?"

"Yes, child, it looks lovely above the mantel."

"Can I just go down to see it, then? Just a glimpse, and then I shall come right back?"

"We'll see. Perhaps when your father—"

Suddenly the bells rang.

Sue knew they were normal bells, knew they could not possibly be any louder than the ones on her horse's harness or on the trees at Christmastime. And yet they were louder, they always were. The ringing seemed to permeate the walls around her, to dig into her skull and dance across her brain. She covered her ears and pressed her face against her mother's bodice.

"Why are the bells so loud, mother? Why are they always so loud?"

Her mother didn't answer, only smiled a pained smile and touched her daughter's chin. "He's here," she said. "I must go greet him. Practice being good for the next time the doctor comes, darling. Practice for me."

After she left and the ringing died away, Sue stared into the dressing table mirror. She tried to emulate her mother's straight back and downcast eyes, the way she spoke soft as the flutter of a moth wing, her words arranged just so. But all she saw in the glass was her tangled hair and rumpled gown, all she heard was her too-fast, too-hard voice.

She curled up on the bed and rocked back and forth, her thoughts ricocheting around the four windowless walls of that dark and empty room.