Murder Most Melancholy by Rose Pascoe

Author:Rose Pascoe
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: historical murder mysteries, Victorian mystery novels, historical mystery womens rights womens health, historical mystery crime romance, Victorian detective mysteries
Publisher: Rose Pascoe
Published: 2022-10-01T00:00:00+00:00

The Power Of Magic

When the gong for the midday meal sounded, Charlie was told to go and stand by the servery.

In a perfectly choreographed sequence, the servery hatch into the kitchen opened, revealing a tray of spoons and a line of salt and pepper pots, while the door swung open to disgorge two kitchen maids, each wheeling a trolley with two steaming pots and a pile of sliced and buttered bread. Half a dozen women appeared from the other side of the dining hall, led by an attendant. Without a word, they began setting the tables.

The moment the last spoon was placed on the table, a stream of men appeared at one end of the hall and women at the other, taking their places at the tables. The only sound was the hypnotic shuffling of their feet in soft indoor shoes, followed by the scrape of bench legs on parquet. There was no discussion or jostling, leaving Charlie with the impression that the patients sat in the same seat every day. Perhaps such monotonous routine helped them to cope. As for himself, it would drive him mad to do this every day.

Quigley pointed out the empty tables between the male and female patients. “As an attendant, you will supervise and make sure there is no trouble. Once all the meals are served, you may eat at the table closest to the men. The female attendants take the other empty table, thus keeping a degree of segregation between male and female patients. Super, Matron and I, of course, have a separate dining room.”

He nodded towards another trolley being wheeled towards a side room. The crystal glasses and fine china, surrounding a dome-topped silver platter, were as clear an indication of the privilege of rank as a row of stripes on an officer’s uniform.

Quigley beckoned to another attendant, whose heavily lined face and weary eyes gave the impression of a man who had seen it all and not enjoyed the experience. “Walker, would you show Pearce around the upper floor after lunch.”

“Supposed to be my half day, Guv’nor.”

“I’ve no one else to spare, Walker. Make it a quick tour, then you can be off. Once Pearce proves his competence, you may leave early on your next half day.”

At a signal unseen by Charlie, the first table of women stood up without a word spoken and formed an orderly queue in front of the serving station. Each woman got a dollop of stew, topped by a spoonful of mashed potato and a slice of bread, thinly spread with butter. As soon as they began shuffling back to their table, the next table rose, including Grace. The various degrees of rounded belly left him in no doubt that this was the group of fallen women.

The third group seemed to hum with supressed energy, like bees trapped in a hive. The final group of women to be served, at the furthest table, were even further along towards the manic end of the scale. Unlike the first three groups, these women were closely escorted by two attendants.

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