Philippa Gregory - Wideacre

‘Who has my estate?’ John demanded. He grabbed at the document and the rest of the papers slid in a sheaf to the floor.

‘Harry Lacey, and Harry Lacey’s lawyers!’ he exclaimed. ‘And we all know who controls Harry Lacey, don’t we?’ He shot a venomous but frightened look at me. Then he dropped the paper from his hand altogether as the realization hit him.

‘My God, Beatrice. You are stealing my fortune and putting me away!’ he said in horror. ‘You are having me locked up, and robbing me.’

Dr Rose gave an inconspicuous nod to Dr Hilary but John saw it at once. Dr Hilary rose ponderously to his feet and John screamed like a terrified child.

‘No!’ he cried. ‘No!’ and he broke for the door, knocking over the little table and Celia’s workbox. Spools of cotton and coffee cups scattered over the carpet and then, moving surprisingly fast for a heavy man, Dr Hilary dived for John’s feet and brought him down to the floor in a crashing tackle. Celia screamed, and I clenched my hands in horror as the heavy man pinned John to the floor.

Dr Rose pulled a strait-jacket from his case and handed it to Dr Hilary. John shrieked in panic and terror, ‘No! No! Celia! Celia, don’t let them!’

Celia snatched at the strait-jacket but I was at her side in an instant. I grabbed her and held her tight. She pushed me away and cried out, ‘Beatrice! Beatrice! You must stop them! There is no need for this! Stop them hurting John! Stop them tying him!’

With deft skilful hands Dr Hilary had slid John’s flailing arms into the jacket and rolled him over as neatly as a trussed chicken with both hands tied around his belly and strapped behind his back. John’s back arched; his eyes bulged in a contortion of terror.

‘You are a devil, Beatrice,’ he moaned. ‘You are the devil itself.’

John’s eyes rolled towards Dr Rose. ‘Don’t do this,’ he said. His voice had gone; his throat was so tight with terror he could only croak. ‘No! I beg of you. Please don’t let this happen to me. It is a plot. I can explain it. My wife wants me put away. She is a whore and a murderess.’

Celia broke from me and swooped down to kneel beside John.

‘No,’ she said urgently. ‘Don’t say such things, John. Don’t be like this. Be calm, and all will be well.’

John’s mouth widened in a soundless scream of horror.

‘And now she has you!’ he said despairingly. ‘You betrayed me to these men, to her henchmen. She set you on to trap me and you did her dirty work for her. You …!’ He broke off and gazed wildly at the four of us, seeking help.

‘Beatrice, you are the devil,’ he gasped again. ‘A devil. God save me from you and from this infernal Wideacre.’ He gave a hoarse sob and said no more. I stood in silence. Dr Rose glanced at me curiously. My face was stony, white as milk. Celia had fallen back from John’s side as soon as he turned on her, and was weeping with her hands over her eyes to shut out the sight of her brother-in-law bound on the floor of the pretty parlour of her home.

I was as still as a frozen river. I could not believe this scene before my eyes, even though I had known that something like this could happen. I put one hand behind me until I felt the chair and then I sank on to it, my eyes still on John. I saw his eyelids flutter and close and his chest beneath his crossed arms heaved with a sigh.

Dr Rose stepped towards him and raised his head.

‘Put him straight in the carriage,’ he said to Dr Hilary. ‘He’s fine.’

The big man lifted John as if he were a child and carried him gently from the room. Dr Rose helped Celia to a chair but she neither looked at him nor stopped her heartbroken, gasping sobs.

‘It is very distressing, but not unusual in these cases,’ Dr Rose said gently to me. I nodded with a stiff strained movement. I sat bolt upright in the chair as if I were nailed to it. I ached all over from every tense rigid muscle, and my neck and head were hot with pain.

‘Dr Hilary and I will certainly sign the committal papers,’ said Dr Rose, gathering them from the floor. ‘I will need also the signature of a male relative.’

‘Certainly,’ I said. My lips were numb.

‘We prefer our patients to commit themselves to our care, and of course to resign their business affairs until they are well again. But when we are certain that a patient is too ill and too confused to seek treatment we can commit him without his consent,’ he said.

‘I am quite convinced that he is suffering from delusions brought on by an excessive consumption of alcohol,’ said Dr Rose, scribbling rapidly on the documents and signing his name with a flourish. He glanced up at me. ‘But do not be too distressed at what he says, Mrs MacAndrew. It is customary for patients like your husband to have exaggerated fears about the very people who are trying to help them. We hear a lot of strange claims from our patients, and when they are cured they forget all about them.’

I nodded again with rigid muscles.

Dr Rose looked towards Celia. ‘Should Lady Lacey have some laudanum?’ he asked. ‘This has been a dreadful shock for you both.’

Celia raised her head from her hands and took a deep breath in a struggle for control.

‘No,’ she said. ‘I wish to see John again before he goes.’ She was holding in the sobs with a tremendous effort of will, but she could not keep the tears from rolling down her cheeks. Her brown eyes were continually filled and her cheeks wet with them.

‘He will have had some laudanum in the carriage and will be sleeping peacefully,’ said Dr Rose. ‘There is no need for you to trouble yourself, Lady Lacey.’

Celia rose to her feet with the new dignity she had won in these last few days.

‘He thinks I have betrayed him,’ she said. ‘He trusted me and I let him be held down and tied up like a criminal in my own parlour. He thinks I have betrayed him, and that is not so, for I did not mean to work against him. But I have failed him because I could not stop you.’

Dr Rose stood too, and put out a placatory hand to her.

‘Lady Lacey, it was for the best,’ he said. ‘He will be untied as soon as we get to my house. He will be treated with every possible consideration. And if God wills, and if Mr MacAndrew has courage, then he may come home to you all completely cured.’

‘Doctor MacAndrew,’ said Celia steadily, the tears still streaming down her cheeks.

‘Doctor MacAndrew,’ he repeated, nodding his acknowledgement of Celia’s correction.

‘I shall write a note and I will put it in his pocket,’ said Celia. ‘Please do not leave until I have seen him.’

Dr Rose bowed his agreement and Celia went from the room, her head high, her step steady, and the tears still rolling from her eyes.

There was a silence in the parlour. Outside in the frosty garden a robin began to sing its piercing notes, loud on the cold air.

‘And the power of attorney papers?’ I asked.

‘I have signed them as part of the committal procedure,’ said Dr Rose. ‘He is committed to our asylum until I see fit to release him. And his business affairs will be managed by your brother, Sir Harold.’

‘How long do you think he will be with you?’ I asked.

‘It depends on himself,’ said Dr Rose. ‘But I would generally expect some improvement in two or three months.’

I nodded. Time enough. Even that slight movement of my head sent needles of pain up my neck and into the throbbing tight skin of my scalp. Everything I had planned was coming to me, but I could feel no joy.

‘I shall write to you with a report every week,’ said Dr Rose. He handed me a letter describing the hospital and the treatment, and the papers for Harry’s signature. I held them in hands that were as steady as his own. But even my fingers ached.