Alias Grace (41 page)

“Most intriguing,” says Jerome DuPont now, at Simon’s elbow. “I notice you said nothing about prostitution, which, along with drink, is surely one of the major social ills afflicting our age.”

“I did not wish to bring it in,” says Simon, “considering the company.”

“Naturally enough. I would be interested in your opinion of the view held by some of our European colleagues, that the penchant for it is a form of insanity. They link it to hysteria and neurasthenia.”

“I am aware of it,” says Simon, smiling. In his student days, he used to argue that if a woman has no other course open to her but starvation, prostitution, or throwing herself from a bridge, then surely the prostitute, who has shown the most tenacious instinct for self-preservation, should be considered stronger and saner than her frailer and no longer living sisters. One couldn’t have it both ways, he’d point out: if women are seduced and abandoned they’re supposed to go mad, but if they survive, and seduce in their turn, then they were mad to begin with. He’d said that it seemed to him a
dubious piece of reasoning; which got him the reputation either of a cynic or of a puritanical hypocrite, depending on his audience.

“I myself,” says Dr. DuPont, “tend to place prostitution in the same class as the homicidal and religious manias; all may be considered, perhaps, as an impulse to play-act which has run out of control. Such things have been observed in the theatre, among actors who claim that they become the character they are acting. Female opera singers are especially prone to it. There’s a Lucia on record who actually did kill her lover.”

“It’s an interesting possibility,” says Simon.

“You do not commit yourself,” says Dr. DuPont, gazing at Simon with his dark, lustrous eyes. “But you will go so far as to admit that women in general have a more fragile nervous organization, and consequently a greater suggestibility?”

“Perhaps,” says Simon. “Certainly it is generally believed.”

“It makes them, for instance, a good deal easier to hypnotize.”

Ah, thinks Simon. Each to his own hobby-horse. Now he’s getting to it.

“How is your fair patient, if I may call her that?” says Dr. DuPont. “Are you making progress?”

“Nothing definitive yet,” says Simon. “There are several possible lines of enquiry which I hope to follow up.”

“I would be honoured if you would permit me to try my own method. Just as a sort of experiment; a demonstration, if you like.”

“I am at a crucial point,” says Simon. He doesn’t wish to appear rude, but he does not want this man interfering. Grace is his territory; he must repel poachers. “It might upset her, and undo weeks of careful preparation.”

“At your convenience,” says Dr. DuPont. “I expect to remain here for another month at least. I should be pleased to be of help.”

“You are staying with Mrs. Quennell, I believe,” says Simon.

“A most generous hostess. But infatuated with the Spiritualists, as are many these days. An entirely groundless system, I assure you. But then, the bereaved are so easily imposed upon.”

Simon refrains from saying that he doesn’t need any assurance. “You have attended some of her … her evenings – should I call them séances?”

“One or two. I am, after all, a guest; and the delusions involved are of considerable interest, to the clinical enquirer. But she is far from closing her mind to science, and is even prepared to fund legitimate research.”

“Ah,” says Simon.

“She would like me to attempt a session of Neuro-hypnosis, with Miss Marks,” says Dr. DuPont blandly. “On behalf of the Committee. You would have no objection?”

Curse them all, thinks Simon. They must be getting impatient with me; they think I am taking too long. But if they meddle too much, they will upset the apple cart, and ruin everything. Why can’t they leave me to my own devices?

Today is the Tuesday meeting, and as Dr. Jordan is speaking at it I did not see him in the afternoon, since he had to prepare. The Governor’s wife asked if I could be spared for a little extra time, as they were short hands and she would like me to help with the refreshments, as I have often done. Of course it was a request in form only, as Matron had to say yes, and did so; and I was to take my supper in the kitchen after, just like a real servant, as the supper at the Penitentiary would be over by the time I got back. I was looking forward to it, as it would be like the old times, when I was free to come and go, and there was more variety in my days, and such treats to look forward to.

I knew however that I’d have to put up with some slights, and hard looks, and spiteful remarks as to my character. Not from Clarrie, who has always been a friend to me although a silent one, and not from Cook, who is used to me by now. But one of the upstairs maids resents me, as I have been in this house longer, and know its ways, and enjoy the confidence of Miss Lydia and Miss Marianne, which she does not; and she is bound to make some allusion to murders, or strangling, or some such distasteful thing. Also there is Dora, who has been coming in to help in the laundry, but not permanent and only paid by the hour. She is a large person with strong arms, and useful for the carrying of the heavy baskets of wet sheets; but untrustworthy, as she is always telling tales of her former mistress and master, who she says never paid what they owed her, and carried on in scandalous ways besides, with him so far gone with drink he was no better than an imbecile, and blacked his wife’s eye for her more than once; and her taking sick at the drop of a hat, and Dora wouldn’t be surprised to find there was drink at the bottom of her vapours and headaches, as well.

But although Dora says all these things, she has accepted to go back there, and to be the maid-of-all-work again, and indeed has already begun; and when Cook asked her why she would do it, considering they are such disreputable people, she gave a wink and said that money talks, and loudly too; and that the young doctor who boards there has paid out her back wages, and begged almost upon his bended knee to have her back, as no one else was to be found. And he is a man who likes his peace and quiet and for things to be clean and tidy, and is willing to pay for it, although the landlady cannot, her husband having run off on her, so that now she was no more than a grass widow, and a pauper at that. And Dora said she won’t take orders from her any more, as she was always a carping and peevish mistress, but only from Dr. Jordan, as he who pays the piper calls the tune.

Not that he is up to any good either, she says, having the air of a poisoner about him, as so many doctors do have, with their bottles and potions and pills, and she thanks the good Lord every day that she isn’t a rich old lady under his care, or she would not be long for this world; and he has a strange habit of digging in the garden, although it is now much too late to plant anything, but he goes at it like a sexton, and has turned over almost the whole of the yard, nonetheless; and then it’s her who has to sweep up the mud he tracks in, and scrub the dirt out of his shirts in the wash, and heat up the water for his bath.

I was astonished to realize that this Dr. Jordan she was talking about was the same one as my Dr. Jordan; but I was curious as well, for I hadn’t known all those things about his landlady, or indeed anything about her at all. So I asked Dora, what sort of a woman was she, and Dora said, Skinny as a rail and pale as a corpse, with long hair so yellow it was almost white, but despite that and her fine-lady ways, no better than she should be, although Dora did not yet have proof of it; but this Mrs. Humphrey had a wild rolling to the eye, and a twitchy manner, and those two things together always meant warm work behind closed doors; and that Dr. Jordan should watch himself, because if ever she saw a determination to get a man’s trousers off him, it was there in the eyes of Mrs. Humphrey; and they took breakfast together every morning now, which to her mind was unnatural. Which I thought was coarse, at least the part about the trousers.

And I think to myself, if that is what she says about those she works for, behind their backs, then, Grace, what will she say of you? I catch her looking me over with her small pink eyes, and devising what sensational tales she will tell her friends if any, about taking her tea with a celebrated murderess, who ought by rights to have been strung up long since, and cut into slabs by the doctors, like butchers dressing a carcass, and what was left of me after they’d finished done up into a bundle, just like a suet pudding, and left to moulder in a
dishonoured grave, with nothing growing on it but thistles and nettles.

But I am all for keeping the peace, and so I say nothing. For if I was to get into a fight with her, I know sure enough who would be blamed.

We had orders to keep our ears open for the end of the meeting, which would be signalled by applause, and a speech to thank Dr. Jordan for his edifying remarks, which is what they say to everyone who speaks on these occasions; and that would be our signal to bring up the refreshments; and so one of the maids was told to listen at the parlour door. Down she came after a while, and said the thanks were being given; and so we counted to twenty, and then sent up the first urn of tea, and the first trays of cakes. I was kept below, cutting up the pound cake, and arranging it on a round platter, for which the Governor’s wife had given instructions that there was to be a rose or two in the centre; and very nice it looked. Then word came down that I was to bring in that particular plate myself, which I found odd; but I tidied my hair and carried the pound cake up the stairs, and in through the parlour door, expecting no harm.

There amongst the others was Mrs. Quennell with her hair like a powder puff, wearing pink muslin, which was far too young for her; and the Governor’s wife in grey; and Reverend Verringer looking down his nose as usual; and Dr. Jordan, somewhat wan and limp, as if his talk had worn him out; and Miss Lydia, in the dress I’d helped her with, and pretty as a picture she was.

But who should I see, looking straight at me with a little smile, but Jeremiah the peddler! He was considerably trimmed as to hair and beard, and got up like a gentleman, in a beautifully cut sand-coloured suit, with a gold watch-chain across the vest; and holding a cup of tea in the best mincing gentleman’s manner, just as he used to do when imitating the same, in the kitchen at Mrs. Alderman Parkinson’s; but I’d have known him anywhere.

I was so taken aback that I gave a little shriek, and then stood stock-still, with my mouth open like a haddock, and almost dropped the plate; and indeed several pieces of the pound cake slid off it onto the floor, and the roses as well. But not before Jeremiah had set down his cup, and laid his forefinger alongside his nose, as if scratching it; which I don’t believe anyone saw, as they were all looking at me; by which gesture of his I knew that I was to button my lip, and not say anything, or give him away.

So I did not, but excused myself for dropping the cake, and set the platter on the side table, and knelt down to retrieve the spilt cake into my apron. But the Governor’s wife said, Never mind that at present, Grace, I wish to introduce you to someone. And she took me by the arm, and led me forward. This is Dr. Jerome DuPont, she said, he is a noted medical practitioner, and Jeremiah nodded to me, and said, How do you do, Miss Marks. I was still confused, but managed to keep my composure; the Governor’s wife saying to him, She is often startled by strangers. And to me, Dr. DuPont is a friend, he will not hurt you.

At which I nearly laughed out loud, but instead said, Yes, Ma’am, and looked down at the floor. She must have feared a repetition of that other time, when the head-measuring doctor came here, and I screamed so much. But she need not have worried.

I must look into her eyes, said Jeremiah. It is often an indication as to whether or not the procedure will be efficacious. And he lifted my chin, and we gazed at each other. Very good, he said, all solemn and sedate, just as if he was what he pretended to be; and I had to admire him. Then he said, Grace, have you ever been hypnotized? And he kept hold of my chin for a moment, to steady me, and give me time to control myself.

I should certainly hope not, Sir, I said, with some indignation. I do not even know rightly what it is.

It is an entirely scientific procedure, he said. Would you be willing to try it? If it would help your friends, and the Committee. If it is decided by them that you should. And he gave my chin a little squeeze, and moved his eyes up and down very quickly, to signal to me that I should say yes.

I will do anything within my power, Sir, I said; if that is what is wanted.

Good, good, he said, just as pompous as a real doctor. But in order for it to be successful, you must repose your trust in me. Do you think you can do that, Grace?

Reverend Verringer and Miss Lydia, and Mrs. Quennell and the Governor’s wife, were all beaming at me with encouragement. I will try, Sir, I said.

Then Dr. Jordan stepped up, and said he thought I’d had enough excitement for one day, and care must be taken of my nerves, as they were delicate and must not be damaged; and Jeremiah said, Of course, of course. But he looked well pleased with himself. And although I have an esteem for Dr. Jordan, and he has been kind to me, I thought he looked a poor fish beside Jeremiah, like a man at a fair who’s had his pocket picked, but does not yet know it.