Free The Trial of Marie Montrecourt by Kay Patrick

be able to find out where Daphne had been taken. She started to run across Long Street, down Stirling Avenue. She wasn’t aware that she was crying. She wasn’t aware that passers-by were turning to look after her – this wild woman, her hair awry and her face covered in grime. She hurled herself against the door of the house and pushed past the startled housekeeper, before rushing up the stairs, bursting into her room and throwing herself onto the bed in a state of collapse.
    She had no idea how long she was lying there before Isabelle came in. It felt like it was hours, but it was only a few minutes. Isabelle was shocked at the sight of Marie’s gaunt face, which was covered in soot. Her clothes were torn and smelt of smoke, and her hands were blistered and raw.
    “What on earth has happened?”
    It was a rhetorical question because Marie was in no state to reply. Calm and practical, Isabelle opened the door and ordered the housekeeper, who was hovering on the landing outside, to heat water and bring it up to the room. Marie was sobbing now, deep rasping sobs that tore her apart. Isabelle eased off her dress. The material was badly singed.
    “Daphne’s shop. It’s burnt down.” Marie shuddered and clutched Isabelle. “Daphne’s hurt. She’s been taken somewhere. I don’t know where. We have to find out where.”
    “All right. We will, we will,” Isabelle said soothingly and Marie calmed down a little.
    Hot water was brought in. Isabelle took it and waved the housekeeper away. She started to wipe Marie’s face. There was bad bruising on her forehead and a trickle of blood near her mouth. Marie winced as Isabelle bathed it.
    “Tell me what happened,” Isabelle urged.
    It was an effort for Marie to speak. “There was a man in the shop. He must have attacked Daphne. He pushed me and I fell.”
    “Who was it?”
    “I didn’t see him clearly.” All she could think of was Daphne. Was she suffering? Had they saved her? “You will find out where Daphne is? You will, won’t you?”
    “Of course we will. Of course.”
    Reassured, Marie allowed Isabelle to undress her and put her to bed. Even so, she couldn’t sleep. She wouldn’t be able to do that until she’d found out where Daphne had been taken.
    *
    For three days after the fire, Marie was barely conscious of her surroundings or of the fuss that was going on around her. She sometimes thought she was back in the convent, and other times she imagined she was on a train. The steam from its wheels scalded her and the furnace that was being stoked consumed her. She was burning.
    “She’s crying. Why is she crying?”
    It was Isabelle’s voice she could hear. Marie tried to lift herself up in bed and managed to say: “I’m frightened.”
    “No, lie back. You’re all right.”
    There were more whispered conversations in her room. Isabelle’s voice came through again: “She’s still crying. I don’t know what else to do for her.”
    *
    For another three days, Marie slipped between reality and nightmare. Finally, on the third morning, she opened her eyes and saw the room clearly. Isabelle was sitting by her bed.
    “Isabelle, where’s Daphne?
    Her voice was weak but Isabelle was instantly on her feet. “Are you all right?” She nodded and Isabelle leant against the bedpost in relief. “I’ve been so worried. We all have.”
    Nothing mattered to Marie except news of her friend. “Have you found out where Daphne is?”
    “No, not yet.” She saw the expression on Marie’s face. “We are trying, I promise. Geoffrey’s brother, Stanley, has called to ask after you several times.”
    “That’s very kind of him,” Marie murmured, but it meant little to her.
    *
    Over the next few days, thanks to Isabelle’s care, Marie grew stronger. When the doctor saw her again, he agreed she was now strong enough to be helped downstairs. There was a parcel waiting for her in the parlour.
    “It arrived two days ago,” Isabelle said .
    There was an envelope