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The only time she had wept harder with a sense of guilt and loss was as a child when the waters of Scotland swallowed part of her family.

27

Alex blinked at the two doctors and the pair of nurses who were staring back at her with worry in their eyes.

‘What do you mean “disappeared”?’ She frowned. ‘You’ve lost him? After only three days here?’

The thin-faced doctor with a deeply pinched expression sucked in a breath, making his cheeks appear even hollower. ‘I’m as astonished as you are, Mrs Britten-Jones.’

It didn’t answer her question but revealed the level of their distress and embarrassment that they really had little more to offer her.

She’d insisted to her parents on coming alone to see Matthew for the first time since he’d been committed to Bootham; Dr Ely had not considered it helpful for her to upset herself or Matthew with a visit for the first month. Her fury had nearly undone her but she found comfort in the knowledge that they were working to circumvent Dr Ely and she needed to find previously unknown reserves of patience or risk forewarning him. It had taken over a fortnight to wait for the next panel of magistrates to gather and preside over a hearing for Matthew. Giles Farthing had argued passionately for Matthew’s release to the York Retreat and not only Sir Charles but several other key York identities lent their weight in Matthew’s defence. Each claimed Alex’s husband had not once shown any signs of depraved behaviour – homosexual or otherwise – and that even if his sexual inclinations could be proven to run to the other sex in his youth, he was surely now happily married. What’s more, his wife, until this sorry episode, had not had cause to call his loyalty into question and had never discussed infidelity with him until an accusation was made on the same day as his sectioning. Alex had provided a statement to this effect to be read out to the magistrates.

Enough gentlemen on the panel were already family friends with the Frobishers and were highly aware of their influence. More importantly, they were familiar with Matthew too, so it had been a unanimous decision to release him into the care of the York Retreat to ‘convalesce’. His condition was summarised as a ‘clinical breakdown’, burying the accusation of sexual depravity and moral imbecility beneath the claim that he had been working too hard since the end of the war to re-establish the rail network in the north, reconfigure carriages for passengers rather than cargo, plus open up new rail networks. It wasn’t that no one believed the accusation brought against her husband, Alex suspected, more that not one of these gentlemen wanted to confront it. No doubt also weighing heavily on their minds was having one of the county’s most esteemed families embroiled in scandal. The repercussions were not good for any of them or their society friends in the north. Matthew was duly signed over and escorted to the York Retreat, an establishment that had in its heyday of the previous century led the world in the humane treatment of patients with ill mental health.

The unassuming but attractive series of buildings that formed the Retreat was the result of the philanthropy of a Yorkshireman: a retired coffee and tea merchant, another Quaker, who was part of the Friends Society. William Tuke had built his Georgian haven for the mentally unstable on land that roamed through peaceful, sprawling gardens outside the city of York for the good of all Quaker folk in need, and indeed for any poor soul suffering bewilderment and demons of the mind.

And here Alex stood, in those very gardens, down near the cemetery where so many leading Quaker sons of the county took their final rest, including several Rowntrees. She regarded the quartet of staff, appalled by what she was hearing.

‘How?’

They all deferred to the hollow man, presumably the most senior, and now she understood why she had been walked down here to the quietest part of the complex, where no one else could share her distress or their discomfort.

Alex could see that the doctor was tempted to shrug, as clearly he didn’t know precisely how Matthew had pulled off his escape. ‘Your husband was polite and most compliant in the short time we had him here, Mrs Britten-Jones. He was talkative, enjoyed his sessions with the therapists, amused the staff with his entertaining anecdotes and, frankly, I thought he was excellent company for some of our younger patients, who seemed to come out of themselves around his cheerful presence.’

She was not going to permit her ruffled feathers to be smoothed over by flattery. ‘Yes, that sounds like Matthew, but he was not here for entertainment value, Doctor. Forgive me, you can imagine how disconcerting this information is.’

‘Yes, of course, and apology is inadequate, but I’m at a loss to explain. However, while we are all particularly disappointed at his disappearance while in our care, we are not overly worried for Mr Britten-Jones.’

She nodded, knew precisely what was meant, but listened to the rationale anyway.

‘He is a man of the world, well travelled, highly educated, convincingly capable, extremely intelligent and not in any way showing signs of bewilderment or confusion . . . which is what we’re used to here. If anything, Mr Britten-Jones is hale and, dare I say, sound of mind, and I imagine he is likely sitting in a café right now toasting his cunning.’

‘In a club, more like, Doctor. Matthew would prefer to toast his escape with champagne.’

The doctor smiled crookedly, unsure if she was making a genuine attempt at jest.

‘Was he not supervised at all?’

‘Everyone is, to a degree; some more than others. Mr Britten-Jones was not confined in any of our larger day rooms that require padding or security. He was perfectly at ease to enjoy all the rooms and grounds but he’d never given us any cause to suspect his desire to escape. He told us he was happy to wait until the courts moved through their required processes and he would be discharged when it was deemed appropriate. Yesterday when we lost track of him he was actually helping one of the delivery van drivers unload his goods – that’s how comfortable he was at the Retreat: keen to be involved, help in some way.’

‘I see. Do you think my husband had help?’

The man blinked with a sheepish expression. ‘Almost certainly. We discovered him gone less than an hour after he was last seen and if he was on foot, we’d have found him. Staff were despatched swiftly on horseback in all directions. He really couldn’t have got all that far in this inclement weather and mainly across fields. There is only one road in.’

‘So the delivery van is the most likely escape vehicle?’ All nodded.

‘It had almost a one-hour head start on us and the driver had presumably planned a careful escape route. To be honest, I imagine your husband was on a train before we’d even discovered him absent.’

She wanted to laugh, wishing this was Dr Ely whom Matthew had thwarted in this manner, but frowned instead. ‘I’m at a loss to imagine who might be complicit in our circle of friends – I can vouch that no one in my family or his was likely involved.’

‘Nor would I suggest someone from either family would be quite so underhand. It’s a mystery indeed because Mr Britten-Jones had no access to the telephone, so it’s not as though he had lots of time or opportunity to carefully orchestrate an escape. Presumably he has bribed or persuaded someone to help him on the spur of the moment but, I should add, he possessed no coin.’

Alex nodded her understanding.

‘No doubt you’ll be one of the first to hear of his whereabouts as Mr Britten-Jones was clearly deeply fond of you, Mrs Britten-Jones. He spoke of you a lot and how he wished he could take back any hurt he has caused you.’

‘Thank you, Doctor.’ She did not want to pursue that conversation. ‘So what now?’