Bird Page 4

  Gradually the fire on the beach died down and the wind came up, surrounding me in that little see-through house so far away from the world, so far from any kind of human warmth and comfort. As the growing darkness moved across the lake, I slowly closed the latch on the lantern and descended back into the Manor.

  7

  Farley did not return and Wysteria grew worse. There was no indication that anyone had seen my signal or if they had any idea how to interpret it. Every morning I ran to the walk, looking for Farley’s red cap along the beach. I even checked the tops of all the trees about the Manor in hopes that I would spot him hanging out of one, but the days passed and still he did not come. Perhaps he’d heard the stories about the Manor and had had a change of heart. Perhaps he had learned something more about Wysteria or myself and now felt it too dangerous or foolish to set foot on the property.

  I was accustomed to isolation and solitude, to spending hours with only my thoughts and the nets to occupy me. But since the day Farley had returned the kite, I had experienced a new and strange feeling I could only define as loneliness. I felt it everywhere I went. I grew listless and uneasy, and even found myself missing Wysteria’s nagging and sour disposition, though it was not her company I craved.

  One morning in early May, Wysteria’s condition turned grave. She was unable to rise from her bed, even to lift her head from the pillow to drink. She was delirious with fever and called out bizarre commands to me. “Get my bannock!” she yelled. “Fill the lake water with tide!”

  “Wysteria,” I pleaded, trying to settle her, “you’re not yourself. Please, lie back and rest and I will bring you a cool cloth.”

  It became clear to me as I placed the cloth on her burning forehead that I must do something, for it was evident that I could no longer continue to care for her on my own.

  “I must find a doctor,” I said, pouring a glass of water and urging her to drink.

  She pushed it away from her parched lips. “No! No!” she protested. “No doctor. He won’t come. The doctor was called, but the lady wasn’t home. Fill the water. Fill the tide,” she raved.

  I placed the glass back on the nightstand and held her firmly by the shoulders, looking intently into her watery gray eyes. “Wysteria.” She stared back, hot with fever. “Wysteria, look at me!”

  “Who are you?”

  “I’m Miranda.”

  “Where have you come from? What are you doing here?” Her raving frightened me.

  “I live here, Wysteria. You found me. Remember?” She looked at me blankly.

  “I must go to town for help. Do you understand?” She did not. “I will leave you for only a short while and return as quickly as I am able. Two of the Hounds will remain here with you and two will come with me.” I did not wish to abandon her in such a state, but she needed a doctor, that was certain. She should have seen one days earlier. I had put off taking any action in hopes that she would recover. I feared now that she would suffer from my delay.

  I made her drink from the glass of water and laid an extra blanket over her. “Hush now,” I said, as if to a small, unruly child. “Do not fret, I will return with help.” She settled back into sleep and I gathered two of the Hounds, positioning them close to her bedside and ordering them to stay. Then I took the other two and tied the thick leather leashes to their collars. I dressed in my heaviest wool coat, though the day was warm. The coat and my boots, along with the Hounds, would hopefully protect me from the wind.

  Much time had passed since I had walked unaccompanied in the world, and I feared I would lack the fortitude to face it. Those first few steps away from the Manor, I admit, were difficult ones. It was as if a strong magnet pulled at my heels. I was overcome with dread at leaving the protection of the Manor’s walls and at the same time longed to be free of its grasp. Yet once I stepped beyond the shadow of the massive oak doors and through the front gates, my courage was renewed.

  The day being mild and the Hounds knowing the way, I was able to walk freely and quite quickly down the long driveway to the railroad bed. The Hounds pulled endlessly on their leashes, but I held firm. They had caught a scent along the tracks that pleased them, and this kept them on course.

  The air was full of the smell of hyacinth and elderberry flowers, the ground soft and muddy in places, and the fields, now free from the grip of snow and ice, prepared themselves once again for the growth of a new season.

  As the Manor disappeared from sight and its grip on me loosened, the open air and the aromas consumed my senses. This happened so suddenly and thoroughly that even the image of Wysteria in her desperate state fell away, replaced only with thoughts of spring. Had I not had the Hounds with me, I might have forgotten my mission altogether, so entranced was I with the beauty and freedom of the outdoors.

  In the flat terrain near the lake, ospreys resided, building their giant nests at the very tops of the dead pines. I waited each year for the first glimpse of these regal birds. I loved to watch them patrol the shore, diving for fish with their great talons poised and ready for the catch. I found them loyal and steadfast, for they returned each year with the same partner to the same nest, adding to its breadth until the tops of the trees resembled giant broad-brimmed hats.

  As there was yet no sign of the ospreys, I turned my attention fully to the journey at hand and proceeded down the rails at a steady pace. I kept my focus on our forward progression, guiding the Hounds around the numerous bends and keeping my eyes upon the tracks. We moved along smoothly until the Hounds stopped short and I looked up to see several figures walking toward us. Had I known a shorter way or a trail through the brush, I would have taken it to avoid an encounter, but I could not risk being led off course and getting lost in a thicket with Wysteria in such dire need.

  It was a group of six or seven boys, and I knew that in a very short time, they would spot us and block our way, as the railbed was narrow and the banks dropped off steeply from the sides. And indeed, that is how it happened.

  “Who is that?” I heard one of the boys shout to the others upon catching sight of me.

  “It’s the Bourne Mouse,” another answered. They walked closer to examine me, but not too close; I could tell they feared the Hounds. When they had reached a sufficient proximity, a stout and sullen-looking boy with a scarf loosely tied about his neck, obviously the leader of the small group, stepped forward.

  “Does the Mouse speak?” he inquired. Why he addressed me by this strange name and spoke to me in such a disrespectful manner, I could not comprehend.

  I looked up at him and the rest of the boys. They were, of course, taller than I, bigger in every way, and I could see now that my nickname was familiar to them, though my face was not. They were most likely the sons of local fishermen who lived on the pier. I surmised that, like me, they were outcasts in their own way. They had been teased and struck and hardened. I could see it in their eyes. They felt it their right to tease and strike in return anyone smaller than them, as if size were in itself a reason for punishment.

  “Let us pass,” I said, boldly lifting my chin and nodding to the Hounds, for they were the reason for my courage.

  “Maybe we can help you, Little Mouse.”

  “I don’t think so.

  “Tell us where you’re going in such a hurry.”

  I shook my head.

  “Then you cannot pass.”

  The Hounds began to growl and the boys stepped back.

  “I am going to find a doctor, if you must know.”

  “Are you ill?”

  “No. Not for me.”

  “Is it the Witch? Is the Witch sick?”

  “I don’t understand what you mean,” I said, though I supposed they referred to Wysteria.

  “The Witch of the Manor. The old woman. The one who keeps you as her slave.”

  “I am no slave,” I protested, and the boys laughed.

  “That’s right. You are her heir. Her Highness the Mouse.” They all bowed deeply.

  I narrowed my
eyes at them.

  “Don’t tease her,” one warned. “She might curse you like the Manor is cursed.” With this comment, they drew back and regarded me more seriously.

  “I don’t believe in curses.”

  “You should,” the stout boy said. “The Manor in which you live harbors a great and cursed fortune, and anyone who tries to claim it is driven mad. That house kills all that come to it. It keeps them bound until they suffocate inside its walls, or sends them hurtling over the cliffs, like the captain.”

  “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

  “My father told me of it,” the boy retorted.

  “What did he tell?” But the boy would say no more.

  “They are just stories,” I said.

  “Some stories are true.”

  “Some are not,” I replied.

  “Why are you so unnaturally small?” another boy interjected, regarding me as if I represented a strange and rare species.

  “Because the Witch put a spell on her so she wouldn’t grow,” said one tall boy. “So the old widow can pick her up by the collar and toss her about. Place her on the mantel as a decoration.” They all laughed.

  “She’s the little heir girl.”

  “So little you can barely see her.” They laughed again, but with a certain wariness, for just at that moment the Hounds began to growl more fiercely and push forward.

  “Let me pass,” I said again. “If you do not, I will set my dogs upon you.”

  The Hounds were eager and the boys backed away.

  “Let her pass,” a smaller boy chirped, and the rest of the boys grumbled and stepped aside.

  My legs shook as I walked by them, their jeers following me down the tracks until I turned off onto the main road. Once I was out of sight, I stopped to collect myself and bent down to the Hounds.

  “Thank you,” I whispered, and patted each on the head. “I would not have had the courage to face them without you.” The Hounds wagged their tails and licked my face, then resumed pulling forward on their leashes.

  The rest of the way to town, the boys’ words jostled about in my mind. What had they meant about the captain? He had drowned in a storm on the lake. Everyone knew that. The Manor had not killed him. They were full of lies. It was rubbish. Wysteria was certainly strange, and the Manor forbidding in appearance, but people feared what they didn’t know and went about making up fables and stories.

  As for the fortune, I knew there was no truth to that. Wysteria had searched every crevice of the Manor to no avail. “Do you think, Miranda, that if there was a fortune inside these walls, I would bother for one moment with the mending of nets? Certainly not!”

  “Stories,” Wysteria had said. “Rumors. The working of idle minds.” That was all there was to it. Nothing to fear. Nothing to go on about. How silly to think that the Manor, in which I had lived these many years, could harm anyone.

  At the edge of town, I tied the Hounds to a thick tree trunk and left them a handful of biscuits to feast upon.

  “I will return shortly,” I assured them. “Do not howl or make a nuisance of yourselves while I am gone.” I had heard Wysteria talk to them in much the same manner and they always obeyed. I hoped that in her absence they would do the same.

  I had no idea where I might find the doctor, though I knew the town had one. I had seen his carriage driving by once when I’d accompanied Wysteria to the shops. She had nodded in his direction and identified him as the town’s physician, though she had appeared nervous at the sight of him and had quickly turned her head away.

  As much as possible, I kept to the back streets and alleys, but I could not entirely avoid the curious stares of the shopkeepers and the jeers of a few schoolboys on their way home for lunch. The town was not large, but it was large enough that I had to ask several people for directions to the doctor’s office.

  Dr. Mead was his name, and he resided in a small house near the center of town. His office occupied the first floor, and although the door was open, he was not in. His nurse directed me to sit and wait, as he was expected back after lunch, but I could not. The Hounds would not remain patient for long, and every moment away from Wysteria meant she could lapse into a coughing spell and not recover. I let the nurse know the urgency of the matter.

  “The doctor is out on the islands,” she informed me briskly. “He is visiting a patient and there is nothing I can do to bring him back sooner than he intends to return.” She was a tall woman with broad shoulders. Her face, which perhaps had once been pretty, was drawn and weary. Lines of worry marked her forehead. She nervously fussed about the office, visibly uncomfortable with my presence. She gazed at the ceiling or the ground when she spoke to me, but when she thought I wasn’t looking, she openly stared, as if recording for some future use the exact details of my size and manner.

  “Please,” I said. “I must go back and see to Mrs. Barrows. Send the doctor as soon as he returns. It is urgent. I fear that without his help, she will not last the night.”

  “I will send him, but I cannot say that he will be pleased to come. Many years have passed since he ventured down the road to that unfortunate dwelling, and he carries no good memories from his time there. I can guarantee you that it is the last place on earth he would wish to visit.” Though I wondered greatly at her words, I did not have the luxury of time to stop and inquire further into her meaning.

  “If he comes after dark, tell him to mind his step, as the earth is soft in places about the Manor and his horse may find it difficult to navigate. I will light the lantern for him.”

  “Dr. Mead will come,” she said, looking about anxiously. “You can be sure he will come.”

  8

  “I wish you had found me sooner, young lady,” Dr. Mead scolded. The doctor was a stately gentleman with a broad white mustache, prominent forehead, and thick heavy brows, which gave him the appearance of being either greatly surprised or greatly disappointed by some important matter. His whole demeanor was that of a man who had never spent a moment unconcerned with life or death. I even sensed that the subject of his dinner conversation would be of superior importance. This importance rose from him in waves, and I found myself walking a step or two behind him from the moment he entered the foyer of the Manor.

  “She is in no condition to be moved, that is certain,” he proclaimed upon removing the stethoscope from Wysteria’s chest. “She has pneumonia. Do you know what that is?”

  “Yes, sir. An affliction of the lungs.”

  “It is that indeed, and a bad case besides. Any move might well do her in. She must remain here until the fever breaks. But she cannot stay with only a young girl to care for her.” The doctor took Wysteria’s frail wrist in his hand, closed his eyes and counted her pulse. It was a strange sight to see a man in Wysteria’s bedchamber, sitting on her bed and holding her hand without her consent.

  Dr. Mead appeared to be an excellent physician, the kind of man who would sit by the bedside of a sick patient long into the night without complaint, but in Wysteria’s presence, I could not help feeling that he was merely going through the motions of doctoring and wished desperately to be somewhere else.

  I stared at the two of them, wondering if they had ever spoken to one another. They lived in the same town, so they must have met, but Wysteria called no one friend, and why should the doctor be any exception?

  Dr. Mead removed his fingers from Wysteria’s wrist and regarded me. “I do not have to tell you that your mistress’s condition is grave. Is there a relative who can be summoned?” he asked.

  “It is just Wysteria and I, sir, as I have no relations that I know of.” The doctor’s massive brows rose as he turned his full attention to me, inspecting me from head to foot.

  “You are indeed as small as they say.”

  I nodded.

  “Perhaps you will still grow.”

  “It is my hope, sir.”

  “Even if you were larger than average for your age and sturdy as an ox, I would not leave
a girl to this work.” The doctor rose and deposited his stethoscope in his bag. “I would send my nurse, but she will not come. No one will come out here.” He paused, as if resigned to the words that followed. “Therefore, I will come myself each day until Mrs. Barrows is well enough to be taken to St. Elias’s. Until that time and until I return, you must stay at her side. Hold a cold cloth to her head and rub her feet vigorously.” He pulled back the blanket at the end of the bed, exposing Wysteria’s stockinged feet. “Like this.” He took one foot between his massive hands and rubbed it roughly. “We must draw the fever down from her head. Do you understand?”

  I nodded.

  “Let’s see you try, then.”

  I walked to the edge of the bed and gingerly took Wysteria’s thin foot from his hands.

  “Don’t be afraid of it, girl,” he barked. I held it more firmly. It was bony like her hand, bony and cold. “Feel how cold it is?”

  “Yes, sir. Like ice.”

  “You have your work cut out for you. Rub both feet until they are hot in your hands. Keep at it, and when you must stop to rest, make yourself useful by giving the poor woman something to drink. Make sure she drinks.”

  If Wysteria had been of sound mind, she would have dismissed the doctor for his impertinence, reminding him that she was no longer a poor woman and that he need not waste his pity upon her. But she was not up to rebuke and was so terribly frail that I was afraid to let the doctor leave me alone with her.

  “Must you depart so soon, Dr. Mead?”

  The doctor turned to me and his manner softened. “I do not envy you your place in this household,” he said. “The heir, is that what they call you?”

  “Yes, sir. But I am no heir.”

  “You are wise in not coveting the title, for no good has ever come from trying to claim this dwelling. Yet may I say that, if circumstances were otherwise, you would make a noble heir? You must be commended for your bravery, if nothing else.”