A Corruption of Blood

by Ambrose Parry

  Raven entered the dining room to find the professor and Mrs Simpson already seated at the table, together with Dr Simpson’s brother, Sandy.

  ‘Ah, Dr Raven. Are you to join us? Excellent,’ Sandy said.

  He looked like an older version of his brother: a little more rotund with substantially more grey hair on his head and in his whiskers. He had the same open face, ready to laugh at the slightest encouragement. Sandy was welcome company but his presence here would not be regarded as remarkable by anyone, least of all Mrs Lyndsay. Raven remained intrigued.

  Raven sat down and realised how hungry he was. He had missed lunch entirely, a recurrent hazard in his chosen line of work. A meaty aroma was emanating from the large tureen that Lizzie had deposited in the middle of the table, provoking a grumble from his empty stomach. He would have to be patient though, as the special guest had yet to arrive.

  With this thought, Raven glanced around the table and noted that there were no spare place settings. At the same time, Sandy helped himself to a warm bread roll and slathered it with butter. He seemed to notice Raven’s surprise.

  ‘Something amiss?’ Sandy inquired.

  ‘Mrs Lyndsay said we were expecting a special guest.’

  ‘Am I not special enough?’ Sandy asked, laughing.

  ‘All I said to Mrs Lyndsay,’ Dr Simpson explained, ‘was that we would be joined by a young man who has news to announce.’

  Mrs Simpson reached across the table and clasped Raven’s hand.

  ‘Warmest congratulations, Will. We are all delighted to hear it.’

  ‘Cameron Todd has a very lucrative practice, has he not?’ asked Sandy. ‘That is bound to be a profitable association.’

  Clearly a formal announcement was unnecessary. It was not news to anyone present.

  ‘How did you find out?’ Raven asked the professor.

  ‘How could I not? It is the talk of the town.’

  Raven stiffened, then realised Simpson was relishing his discomfort.

  ‘Don’t torment him, James,’ his wife chided.

  ‘Of course, there is no such gossip. I happened to encounter Dr Todd outside Duncan and Flockhart’s and he told me. He seemed quite delighted, had the air of a man unburdened. It’s no secret that he has long worried over whether a suitable match would ever be found.’

  ‘Nobody ever good enough until you came along, eh?’ suggested Sandy, smiling at Raven. ‘That’s a fine endorsement.’

  ‘Undoubtedly,’ agreed the professor. ‘Will here is quite the catch by anyone’s standards. But I believe Dr Todd’s concerns were on the basis that Eugenie might be the one considered unsuitable.’

  ‘Really? Why would that be?’ Sandy asked.

  Raven hoped that he already knew the answer to this, though he was beginning to wonder about the contradictory perspectives he had heard regarding Dr Todd’s concerns: overprotective and thus reluctant to let his daughter go, and yet concerned that a suitable spouse would not be found to take her off his hands.

  ‘I think that the problem has been a perceived lack of meekness and deference in Eugenie, attributes that many a gentleman would prefer to find in his wife,’ Raven said. ‘These, however, are the very qualities that drew me to her.’

  ‘Ah, meekness and deference. The cornerstones of our relationship, Jessie,’ said the professor, sending an adoring glance towards his wife.

  Mrs Simpson snorted. She rose from her seat and lifted the lid from the tureen. ‘Mina will be disappointed to have missed this,’ she said. ‘She was convinced that she would be the conduit through which you would meet your match.’

  Raven smiled, thinking of all the wholly unsuitable women to whom Mina had engineered introductions.

  ‘When does she return?’ he asked.

  ‘She sent word from Rotterdam that she wanted to go back to London again before returning home.’

  It was easier to ask about Mina than what he really wished to know, which was when Sarah would return. He missed her, and yet felt a vague discomfort at the prospect of having to face her. Normally she was the first person he wanted to share news with, but this felt like something he would have to admit to rather than happily announce. Why did he fear that she would be hurt by it?

  ‘You’re bound for London yourself, James, are you not?’ Sandy asked. Turning to Raven he added, ‘Did you know he is to take tea with Prince Albert?’

  ‘I did not,’ Raven said, taking a bread roll himself while waiting for whatever was in the tureen to be ladled out.

  ‘Well, I’m to meet the man,’ Simpson said. ‘No one has said anything about tea.’

  ‘Does he want to talk to you about chloroform?’ Raven asked. He wondered if the Queen was pregnant again and considering its use in labour. Wouldn’t that be something! The London medical establishment had been demonising its use in natural labour and would be appalled, which in turn would delight Simpson.

  ‘The Prince Consort is planning a great exhibition of industrial technology and design,’ Dr Simpson explained. ‘He wants to discuss scientific exhibits and presumably chloroform will fit in there somewhere.’

  ‘I should think so,’ Sandy interjected. ‘It is the most significant discovery of our generation. Do you know, Dr Raven, whenever clients at the bank find out that I am related to the professor here, I become fairly elevated in their esteem. Such is his reputation. Greatness by association and all that.’

  ‘And how about yourself, Sandy. What news from the world of banking?’ Simpson asked, deftly changing the subject to deflect attention from himself. Raven noticed that though the professor was proud of his achievements, he was reluctant to revel in them. He did not seek, nor did he seem to enjoy, unfettered adulation.

  Sandy took a mouthful of wine and swallowed.

  ‘To be plain, we’re all still reeling from the news about Ainsley Douglas,’ he said.

  ‘Yes,’ said Raven. ‘I read about it in today’s newspaper. Found dead in his bed the morning after we visited.’

  ‘Shocking, out of nowhere,’ said Sandy.

  ‘What was the cause of death?’ Simpson enquired. ‘Do you know?’

  ‘I have no idea. I didn’t think to ask.’

  ‘For it to be so sudden and without any preceding illness, I assume it must have been his heart,’ Simpson suggested. ‘Which is remarkable in itself for being proof that he had one.’

  ‘James,’ Mrs Simpson admonished. ‘He was a generous donor to the hospitals of this city.’

  ‘Indeed, indeed. A philanthropist and a man of piety. He will have gone to heaven, no doubt, though I don’t believe he’ll like God much, and I can’t imagine he will approve of Jesus either. Talk of redemption and forgiveness for sinners never sat well with Ainsley.’

  ‘This will mean a great deal of upheaval for his family,’ Mrs Simpson suggested, trying to reassert some decorum.

  ‘The consequences will be considerable,’ replied Sandy. ‘Almost all will be inherited by Ainsley’s son, Gideon. It is not anticipated that he will be a steady hand on the tiller.’

  ‘And Sir Ainsley was due to be married,’ said Mrs Simpson. ‘How unfortunate for Mrs Chalmers, widowed once already.’

  ‘I feel for her in particular,’ Sandy said. ‘Had they married, she would be entitled to something, the widow’s part of his moveable property. But that will now be divided between Gideon and his sister, while Gideon gets the heritable property outright.’

  Raven did not understand the details of this but grasped the gist. Gideon was now an extremely wealthy man. All of this reinforced Raven’s professed agnosticism. He was prepared to accept the possibility that there was a God, but nobody could make the case that He was a just one. Gideon was a thoroughly callous, arrogant and selfish individual, and now, finally faced with the potentially chastising fate of life at sea, he had instead been granted unfettered access to his father’s fortune.

  The thought had Raven reaching for more wine when the sound of the doorbell reverberated around the walls. E
veryone at the table fell silent, waiting for Jarvis to arrive with the inevitable emergency summons to some distant location. Raven fervently hoped that whatever it was would not entail a return trip to the Old Town.

  Jarvis duly appeared a few moments later, an oddly amused expression on his face. His look was directed at Raven, making him immediately wary.

  ‘Dr Raven, there is a young woman to see you.’

  As he spoke, Raven heard a commotion from the hall, a cacophony of excited voices. His heart leapt as he thought he recognised one of them as Sarah’s.

  He hurried to the door to confront the stramash on the other side of it. The first thing he saw was a trunk, Christina and a coachman carrying it between them and placing it down awkwardly. Guiding their efforts while trying not to get in their way was indeed Sarah, evidently having parted ways with Mina.

  Raven had always wondered whether Jarvis knew there had been something between them, and took his words and amused expression as confirmation. That was until he stepped fully into the hall and saw that Sarah was not the only arrival. Standing against the wall in an attempt to remain clear of the clutter, hands clasped and an anxious expression upon her face, was Eugenie.

  FOURTEEN

  efore Raven could decide which one to address first, let alone summon the words to do so, the professor bowled into the hall, Mrs Simpson at his back.

  ‘Sarah, what a surprise! You are returned.’

  ‘I was impatient to get home.’

  Then Simpson noticed Eugenie.

  ‘And Miss Todd. We were just talking about you, my dear. Your father told me the good news. Jessie, this is Dr Raven’s wife-to-be, Eugenie.’

  At these words, Raven’s eyes went to Sarah, who was staring back in astonished confusion. He had thought about how he might break the news to her but had not yet settled on any particular strategy. This scenario was likely to have been close to the bottom of the list.

  ‘Will, I must speak to you urgently, and in private,’ Eugenie said quietly.

  ‘Come away through,’ he urged, guiding her past Simpson, who was embracing Sarah in one of his bear-like hugs.

  He led Eugenie into his consulting room where they might have some privacy, but closing the door did not erase the scene he had just left. His head was awhirl, the look on Sarah’s face etched on his mind, transforming from confused to accusatory in his imagination. That uncomfortable feeling of disloyalty had returned tenfold.

  ‘It’s about Sir Ainsley,’ Eugenie said.

  Her eyes were beginning to fill, which took him by surprise. Raven could not imagine she and Sir Ainsley had been close, but then he remembered that Eugenie had been a regular visitor to his house since childhood. He cautioned himself that it was not always accurate to judge someone’s character solely on their public face, though what he had glimpsed of Sir Ainsley’s private face had done little to elevate the man in Raven’s esteem.

  ‘Yes, I heard. Such a terrible shock.’

  Eugenie was shaking her head. ‘You don’t understand. Because his death was sudden, my father insisted a post-mortem be carried out. The pathologist has discovered arsenic in his stomach. They are saying he was murdered!’

  ‘Murdered?’

  She swallowed. ‘They have accused my dear friend, who I have known for most of my life and who could not possibly have done this. It cannot be so. I know that Sir Ainsley was not always easy to love, but murder?’

  Raven’s mind was running to catch up.

  ‘They have arrested Amelia?’ he asked, further confused. He recalled that she had been among the first to leave the party, when her father was still very much alive.

  ‘No,’ Eugenie corrected, ‘Gideon. A policeman by the name of McLevy has taken him to Calton Jail. Because he stands to inherit, it is assumed that he must have poisoned his father.’

  Raven had to admit that on this occasion McLevy probably had a case. He thought it wise to keep this to himself, however. He was still processing the fact that Eugenie regarded Gideon as a ‘dear friend’. He should have made the link, he realised. She had been close to Amelia growing up, why not her brother too?

  ‘Gideon swears he had nothing to do with it. He is distraught.’ A tear rolled down her cheek and she wiped it away with a gloved hand. ‘The tragedy of it is that Gideon only ever wanted to please his father.’

  Raven moved towards her, his arms outstretched, thinking to comfort her. She put a hand up, holding him back while she looked for something in the small bag she was carrying. She produced a crumpled envelope and thrust it at him.

  ‘I have received a letter from him. He asks for your help.’

  ‘My help?’

  ‘Yes. He wants you to go and see him. As soon as you possibly can.’

  ‘So, he remembers me after all,’ Raven said, the words issuing before he could stop himself.

  ‘What do you mean?’

  Raven realised that Eugenie had known Gideon a lot longer than she had known him, and that in her eyes such petty enmity would not reflect well on either of them. In the current circumstances he had the more to lose by bearing a grudge.

  ‘Gideon and I have not always been on the best of terms,’ he explained.

  ‘You would refuse him?’ she asked, incredulity and disappointment mingling in her voice.

  Raven considered his options. Was he mistaken about Gideon Douglas or was he indeed the kind of man Raven believed him to be? It struck him that if he still wanted to marry Eugenie, he had no choice but to find out.

  FIFTEEN

  ell, isn’t this lovely news.’

  Sarah put her hand out, pressing it against the nearest wall to steady herself. She found that she could not speak, did not trust herself with a polite response to Mrs Simpson’s assessment of the situation. She had been unsure about her future, what might await her on her return to Queen Street, even whether she still belonged, but she had not expected this.

  She looked at the consulting room door, closed now, Raven and his intended in conference behind it. She felt tears form and blinked rapidly, trying to hold them back.

  ‘Is everything all right, dear? You’ve become very pale.’

  Mrs Simpson approached, taking Sarah’s free hand and rubbing it vigorously between her own warm palms. Somehow her kindness, her concern so earnestly expressed, just made everything worse.

  ‘I think I’m merely a little overcome. To be back home and amongst you all again.’ She tried to smile in defiance of her true feelings. Which were what? Shock. Surprise. Confusion. Disappointment.

  ‘You must join us for dinner,’ Dr Simpson said. ‘We could ask Eugenie to join us too. Give us all an opportunity to get to know her.’

  The thought of facing everyone was overwhelming. Sarah knew that she could not tolerate making conversation with the woman Raven was now betrothed to. It was not something that she could possibly endure. Not now. Not yet.

  ‘You are both so kind, but I am tired from my journey,’ she said. ‘What poor company I would be in my current state.’ She forced a laugh. It sounded hollow and false to her own ears and she wondered if her true sentiments were obvious. ‘Perhaps something could be brought to my room,’ she added as she made her way towards the stairs.

  ‘Of course, of course,’ Mrs Simpson said. ‘I will send Lizzie up with a tray.’

  Sarah closed her bedroom door and leant against it for a moment. She tried to slow her breathing. Tried to calm herself. Tried to work out what she was feeling. Horrible, mainly. She was finding it difficult to be more specific than that.

  She took off her hat and sat down heavily on the bed. She had only been away for a month or so. How could he have formed an attachment so quickly? The problem, she realised, was that their relationship seemed to be in a constant state of flux. She had once thought that she and Raven could have a future together, but he had made it clear that a suitable wife needed to improve his social standing rather than diminish it. His ambition had stood in the way of what she had imagined to be l
ove. He had disappointed her, and she had married Archie, a marriage that had come with its own complications.

  Why did it feel like such a blow to learn this news? He had made her no promises, had not expressed his feelings explicitly. And yet she knew that he still cared for her and she knew that she still cared for him too, and not merely because he had saved her life. She thought that her being a widow, still in first mourning, would have granted them some time to come to terms with what they felt for each other, allowing whatever it was that existed between them to blossom into something solid and secure. She had thought that he would wait for her.

  She had been greatly mistaken.

  Were the feelings that she harboured for him deeper than she imagined them to be? She was aware that having something snatched from you could make you want it all the more, so perhaps she was simply falling prey to that. Did she really want to be married to Raven? She had not thought that she did. Just as he had done, she had decided to put her own ambitions ahead of matrimony. But that was before she went to Europe. Now, she wasn’t sure what she wanted any more.

  A knock at the door roused her from her introspection. She felt her heart flutter in her chest at the thought that it might be Raven on the other side, come to explain himself. Why he had chosen another woman over her. Perhaps there had been a mistake, a misunderstanding. Her hope was short-lived.

  ‘Get the door, will you Sarah? I’ve got my hands full here.’

  It was unquestionably Lizzie.

  Sarah sighed, got up off the bed and opened the door.

  ‘You’re really supposed to call me Miss Fisher now, Lizzie.’

  ‘Right,’ Lizzie replied, swooping past her with a heavily laden tray, her tone giving the distinct impression that Sarah would be waiting a long time to hear herself addressed as such. She put the tray down with a scowl. ‘Mrs Lyndsay’s sent up enough to feed three people. Nearly wrenched my arms out of their sockets carrying it up here.’