The Echo at Rooke Court

by Harriet Smart

  “I’m not sure I ought to allow you to do that, sir, with the greatest of respect. This information is highly confidential and I am not sure you ought to see it without the permission of the Directors.”

  “One of whom is indisposed.”

  “Yes, sir, a worrying business.”

  “And the other? Do you know when Lord Wytton will next be here?”

  “He did not give us any indication,” said the clerk. “However, I do not think he would like you examining our books, sir. If you had the proper authority, sir, then it might be possible.”

  “It may well come to that,” said Giles. The clerk looked as if he had suggested something obscene.

  “We take pride in our confidentiality,” he said. “I do not think you would like strange eyes looking over your financial affairs, sir.”

  “I should not care one whit, for I have nothing to hide. Speaking of which, if there is anything you would like to tell me, you should tell me now. Misplaced loyalty is a dangerous thing. You should consider your own future before that of your masters.”

  “I don’t know what you mean, sir,” said the clerk.

  Giles did not linger. He now felt that Dyson’s caution was well-founded and he knew he had to go to the source of the rumour. He also knew there was little time to waste. He had to talk to Esther Braithwaite.

  Chapter Twenty-three

  “Axworth?” Lady Blanchfort had said, rather as if he had said he was sailing for the Cape of Good Hope, rather than taking an early train the next day to a nearby city. “Goodness, how busy you are, Mr Carswell!”

  He had come home to find Eleanor and her mother just finishing dinner.

  “We have two murders open on the books. We need to interview an important witness,” said Felix, “and there is suspected Indian cholera in Axworth. I want to see if it is true and what the implications might be for Northminster.”

  “You are worried the district may be in danger from an outbreak?” said Lady Blanchfort.

  “Yes.”

  “How disturbing,” said Lady Blanchfort, with a slight shudder. “You had better sit down and dine, Mr Carswell. You will need to attend to yourself properly if you are to attend to the needs of others.”

  She rang the bell and rose from the table. Eleanor was getting up as well, but Lady Blanchfort said, “You should keep your husband company, my dear,” and sailed from the room, leaving them alone together.

  “Does she know?” Felix asked.

  “Know what?”

  “That we have –” He broke off, reluctant to even say the word ‘quarrelled’, and at that moment the butler came in with his dinner.

  Eleanor remained in her place as he was served. She was finishing her own dessert – eating a custard from a glass with a long spoon, and watching him like a cat, her expression inscrutable. She was wearing an elaborate dress he had not seen before, with low, almost indecent shoulders and a plunging bodice that drew attention to the charms of her figure. She had put on some weight during their wedding journey – she had been too thin before, but now there was a slight and becoming roundness about her that he found most appealing. She had also put flowers in her hair, which she knew he liked. Around her neck she was a wearing a tartan ribbon with long tails which, when she had finished eating, she sat twisting in her fingers.

  He had bought that ribbon for her, from a pedlar woman at the gates to Holyrood. She had kept it about her neck all that night, and he had seen it lying between her breasts when he had pushed down her nightgown from her shoulders. As their eyes met he knew she was remembering the same moment, and he knew he was being tempted.

  He turned his attention to his food, and they sat in silence. But even as he ate his meat, he could not stop thinking of that night and found himself looking across the table at her again, assailed by a different sort of hunger. Then she gave him a crooked smile, that was so tender, so vulnerable and so entirely characteristic of everything he adored about her that he could not bear it any longer. He got up from his place and went and kissed her, pulling her out of her seat and into his arms. The scent of the flowers in her hair mingled with the smell of her warm skin and he felt entirely incapable of resistance.

  “Let’s go up,” he said, and like children they ran upstairs together, hand in hand.

  They did not bother to undress, and soon lay in a tangle of her disarranged petticoats. It was only a few minutes’ work for both of them to reach a state of ecstatic relief.

  ~

  The next morning, Felix met Major Vernon at the station as they had arranged. It had been a struggle to get out of bed, and he felt sapped of energy. Only as he climbed into the train to Axworth did his mind clear, and he began to understand the full significance of what had happened. They had had congress three times over the course of the night. Her enthusiasm had matched his own, and at moments exceeded his. At one point she had teased him into action again with a disgraceful lack of modesty that had shocked him and at the same time enslaved him. She had him utterly in her power. All his sensible resolutions had been completely forgotten in a night of utter indulgence. He had behaved like a libertine and she had allowed it – no, she had encouraged it.

  Major Vernon was studying his new railway guide.

  “We should be there at about ten,” he said. “I hope that Mrs Braithwaite is still with us.”

  “I’m surprised Axworth has a fever hospital,” Felix said. “That’s quite progressive.”

  “Perhaps it has an unsalubrious situation,” said Major Vernon, “and it’s a necessity?”

  “Perhaps. Some places do seem cursed with a tendency to disease. It is on the river, is it not?”

  “Yes, and rather marshy and flat.”

  “That may account for it. There is a theory that such sodden, low-lying regions are inherently noxious. Enteric fever and cholera and so on are observably far less prevalent in mountainous regions – at least according to what records we have. It may be just that such places, being remote and underpopulated, are ill-served by the sort of medical men who would bother to make a decent study of the subject.”

  “They are probably too busy treating the goitre,” said Major Vernon.

  “What was the name of the doctor?” Felix said.

  “Perryman,” said Major Vernon. “My source was not entirely sure. In fact this is all extremely speculative, and I would not have put you to the trouble, especially in the circumstances, but there is definitely something amiss at the bank and I want to get to the bottom of that. Fred Pierce’s death may have been an accident, but the circumstances are making me extremely uneasy. The man who told me about that rumour was informed that he had closed his own account three months ago, something he staunchly denies.”

  “Do you believe him?”

  “He seemed reliable. He had no reason to lie. He did not approach me about it. It was quite by chance that I ran across him.” Major Vernon grimaced. “Thank God – for if that bank does go down there will be terrible suffering. I managed to steal a look at some of their books and there are a great many small depositors who –” He broke off and reached for his notebook. He flipped through it. “Mr Dyson closed his account on the twelfth of June, allegedly, and Mrs Dixon withdrew her twenty-five guineas and closed her account on the ninth. Two examples are not necessarily a pattern, of course, but what if it were? Small depositors’ accounts closed – struck out in the ledger as if they had been properly closed by the depositor? Small depositors are not likely to ask about their funds frequently. They may simply have left them there to accrue the interest and forgotten about it. What if Mrs Dixon, like Mr Dyson, does not know her account was closed?”

  “You have lost me,” Felix said.

  “A small depositor is likely a humble person, and easily intimidated by the bank, an easy prey. ‘Yes, ma’am, you closed your account – you must remember. You have already had your money.’ What if they have done this systematically to cover losses elsewhere, by fraudulently closing accounts that saw litt
le activity, and taking their money?”

  “And you think they might have losses elsewhere?”

  “Why else would they attempt to burn down the bank? To get the insurance to cover losses and perhaps to cover up the scale of theft and mismanagement. Is that why Fred was so troubled? Think what he said to Lady Wytton – he was afraid for her and her family. What had he discovered? Why was he working so late at the bank?”

  “Because he liked his work?” Felix said. “As you are always pointing out, it is an excellent distraction from melancholy.”

  “And other things?” said Major Vernon. “How is Mrs Carswell, if I might ask? Did you resolve your small difference?”

  “After a fashion,” Felix said, gazing out of the window. “In the sense that I capitulated utterly, and now – well, God knows what happens now! She has got what she wants and I am whipped, so to speak. And all because I have no self-control. None at all. But she was so –” He broke off. “I did not think that she would be quite so irrational, for such an intelligent woman. But she has such ideas, and she cannot see a sensible argument when it is put to her.”

  “She is still young. You must let her be silly. We were all silly at that age,” Major Vernon said. “When I think how I was at eighteen... but perhaps you were not?”

  Felix sighed.

  “Of course I was, but –”

  “Do not let it gnaw at you and spoil your happiness. She is what she is, and time and your example will do the work you feel you should do. She will only resent you if you attempt to correct her. I made that mistake with Laura. It was unpleasant to discover I had the makings of a domestic tyrant.” He winced and rubbed his face. “Dear Lord, I have not thought of that for some time. It is funny how you push these things to the back of your mind, and then, suddenly, you are there again, confronted by the consequences of your foolishness. Having to beg earnestly for forgiveness.”

  “This was not domestic tyranny,” said Felix. “All I proposed to her was that we take precautions so that she does not conceive a child. What is there in that for a woman to find objectionable? It’s so foolish of her!”

  The Major did not answer for a moment and then said, “That is no small thing to suggest. And for a young wife – you must allow her to be a little confused by such a radical notion.”

  “There is nothing radical about it. It is common sense. You have seen the damage endless childbearing does – to all concerned. We are not beasts of the field or slaves on a plantation, forced to it by a cruel master. We can exercise our choice in the matter, and as far as I am able I shall!” He threw up his hands thinking suddenly of the previous night’s activity. “At least in theory! Oh damnation, she is a witch. She has me just where she wants me!” He screwed up his face.

  “That is hardly gallant,” said Major Vernon. “She is a girl of eighteen who wants to be a mother. I’m not at all surprised she was shocked by your idea. After all, maternal instinct is a powerful force. That is what you are fighting, not a girl being obdurate for the sake of it.”

  “Yes, yes, but why on earth would she want to be a mother now?” Felix said. “We have only just begun together. It would be such an inconvenience. It would spoil everything.”

  “You only think it would!” said Major Vernon. “And you sound like the obdurate eighteen-year-old, if you don’t mind me saying. A child – if fate blesses you with one – is a wonderful thing, and you will find your opinion turned about. Trust me.”

  “Well, it’s thoroughly in the hands of fate now, I assure you!” Felix said, reaching into his bag and taking out the heavy volume on fevers that he had been reading. “Thanks to my wife and her – charms.”

  “I see,” said Major Vernon with a smile.

  “Though I’m damned if I’m ready to be a father,” he said, throwing the book down. “The thought of it horrifies me. I do not even like children. They are so strange. The way they stare at one. Those children of Gray’s –”

  “On another matter entirely,” Major Vernon said, “did you find your study of bloodstains?”

  “No, not yet,” said Felix, frowning. “I was thoroughly distracted, unfortunately. Dear God, how could I have been so stupid? So weak! Do you know what I thought – I thought that marriage would slake that particular thirst, if you know what I mean. It only seems to make it worse.”

  Major Vernon laughed at that and said, “It will be easier in time, I think, and you are labouring under considerable temptation. Imagine, after all, how terrible it would be if you felt nothing! That would be cause for alarm, not this.” He picked up the book on fevers and offered it to Felix. “And work, as you have already pointed out, is always a good distraction.”

  Chapter Twenty-four

  Busy and prosperous, Axworth was bathed in the morning sunshine and would have been pleasant had it not been for the humidity. It was almost unbearable, accompanied as it was by a particularly malodorous stench, a mixture of human and animal waste, as well as the coal continuously burning to power the many mills and manufactories. It had been some time since Giles had been to the town, and it seemed that the rate of change here was particularly violent. There was a rough-edged, unfinished quality to the place. It made Northminster, ancient and blackened though it was, seem sedate.

  “I can see why they need that fever hospital,” said Carswell, as the carriage stalled and started again along a main street from the station that was long and choked with traffic. “We shall both have come down with something by the time we get there.”

  The hospital was a small affair, placed on what passed for a hill. It sat in a courtyard with a wall about it, and was without any flourishes in its design. Its immediate neighbour was a large workhouse that was both modern and uncompromisingly severe.

  “Well, that’s convenient, if nothing else,” remarked Carswell.

  “As is the burial ground,” said Giles, pointing across the fields where a newly-made graveyard was marked by a small chapel.

  A suspicious porter admitted them. On enquiring for the superintending physician, they were told he was absent but he would fetch the matron for them. So they stood in the hall and waited for a few minutes until a young man in shirt-sleeves came running down the stairs.

  “I’m told one of you gentlemen is a surgeon?” he said.

  “Yes?” said Carswell.

  “Dr Wharne is not here and I have a situation that I’m not qualified to deal with. Could you help me, sir?”

  “Yes, of course,” Carswell said. “My name is Carswell. Are you the only medical man in the place, Mr –?”

  “Bennett, sir, James Bennett. I’m only a student, at Barts – I have just done my first year there, and I was visiting my family. My uncle is an apothecary in the town and he thought I might learn something by helping, but – well, Dr Wharne has not come in yet and there is a man upstairs who has had a fit of some sort, and –”

  “Take me to him,” said Carswell, and they hurried up the stairs together, with Giles following.

  “He had the fit in my absence,” Bennett went on. “In fact, no one was in attendance. We have but three nurses here, and the matron is a drunkard,” he added in a whisper. “So he injured himself terribly and I have tried to calm him and deal with his wounds, but – this way, sir, if you would.”

  “This is Major Vernon, by the way, Mr Bennett,” said Carswell, throwing off his coat as they entered the ward. “He is as good a nurse in this kind of situation as you will find.”

  “Any help, sir, would be appreciated,” said Bennett.

  Giles took off his own coat, for the room was unbearably warm and the windows shuttered. There was a stove in the corner that was throwing out heat. All the beds were occupied, each laden with blankets.

  “Dr Wharne believes in inducing perspiration to reduce the febrile symptoms,” said Bennett.

  “And what do you think?” said Carswell, who had gone to the window and opened the shutter. He then threw up the casement.

  “It’s hardly my place to qu
estion him, but –”

  “Air and light,” said Carswell. “At least then we shall be able to breathe and see what we are doing. Is this he?” he added, crouching down by one of the beds where a large man was now slumped in an insensible stupor. “You did not spare the laudanum, then?”

  “How could I, sir?” said Bennett. “He was raving. Though it was hard enough to get it down him. But he would have attacked me and the nurse. It was the convulsions caused by the fever.”

  “Shall we straighten him up?” said Carswell. They got him straight on the bed and Carswell began to look at his injuries.

  “It looks as if he was slamming himself against the wall.”

  “He was, sir.”

  “Nurse!” Felix called out to the girl who was standing by the doorway, looking aghast at this invasion of strangers. “Nurse!”

  “It’s all right, Polly,” said Bennett.

  “But sir, what will Dr Wharne say about the windows?”

  “I need hot water and fresh dressings,” Carswell went on. “Can you manage that?”

  “Go and get them, Polly,” said Bennett. “You don’t have to worry about what Dr Wharne says.”

  “But he said that I shouldn’t ever open the windows. That if I did that mia-missy-ma would come in and kill us all.”

  “Oh dear God!” muttered Carswell. “Do you mean the miasma?”

  “That’s it, sir!”

  “No one has proved that one way or the other,” Carswell said. “So would you please do as I ask and get me some hot water and dressings? This is not the moment for scientific debate.”

  Polly left.

  “Have you had any cases of the cholera here?” Giles ventured, watching as the two men set about tending the man’s self-inflicted wounds. He seemed to have sliced at himself with the edge of a broken basin.

  “Not that I have observed,” Bennett said. “Most of our cases are enteric fever. We are full, though.”