by Mary Hooper
‘The thick gown prevents any infection touching the doctor’s skin, and the beak contains strong herbs,’ Tom said. ‘Every breath he takes will come through these herbs and be cleansed.’
‘And the herbs are . . .?’ Doctor da Silva asked of Tom.
‘Alehoof, ivy, sage, chervil and scabious, sire,’ he answered, and the doctor nodded. He looked at me. ‘And how are you and your sister, and how do you find yourself in your shop? Do you have good health?’
‘We are doing quite well, I thank you,’ I said. ‘Though we have . . .’ My voice choked in my throat and I had to pause a moment. ‘We have lost some of our neighbours to the sickness.’
The doctor shook his head reflectively. ‘It is said that Thursday’s Bills will contain some 2,000 deaths.’
I gasped. ‘But that is double that of last week!’
‘And it will increase, I fear, unless they stop shutting up the houses and entombing the living with the dead,’ he said.
‘Doctor da Silva thinks it would be better to take the sick person off to a pesthouse and isolate him there,’ Tom explained.
‘Although the city is not supplied with nearly enough of those,’ the doctor said grimly. ‘In the meantime when one person sickens and they are shut in with their family and servants, then they all fall sick. There is nothing more certain. One might just as well bury them alive.’
‘But can people catch the plague and live?’ I asked, for this was something Sarah and I had been pondering.
‘It is possible – with the right treatment at the right time. The buboes have to burst, however.’ The doctor turned to Tom as he said this, looking at him enquiringly.
‘A root of the Madonna lily mixed with hog’s grease makes a poultice to ripen plague sores,’ Tom said, on his cue.
The doctor inclined his head. ‘They must burst and discharge their poison, for if they do not then the matter goes inward and infects every organ of the body.’ He paused. ‘What preventatives are you taking?’ he asked me.
I felt my cheeks flushing. ‘I came today because Tom said he would prepare me a cordial,’ I said. ‘I wondered if he had finished it yet.’
‘The flowers had to be steeped and the liquid boiled and strained by turn. It took over a week to make,’ Tom said apologetically. ‘And then we have been so busy with our new patients and with making up preventatives I have not found time to bring it to you.’
‘So you have been taking nothing all this while?’ the doctor asked me.
‘Well, Sarah and I always chew sprigs of rosemary before we go out,’ I said. ‘And we each have a rabbit’s foot. And a cabalistic sign.’ I pulled from my bodice the piece of paper on which a travelling pedlar had written ABRACADABRA in a certain way, as a magical triangle.
The doctor looked at the paper. ‘I cannot think that this will help. But, Tom, what is Hannah’s cordial?’
‘A compound of peony flowers and cornflower leaves steeped in wine,’ Tom replied. ‘A general preventative, for I thought both her and Miss Sarah would take it.’
‘Then fetch the bottle now, and I will delay my visits to our troubled neighbours until you have taken both her and it back safely. But be quick.’
When Tom returned with the bottle I noticed that the cordial was thick and brown and did not look very appetising, but under the doctor’s eye I was given instructions for taking it. Tom and I then walked together back to the shop, seeing on the way two fellows closing up a house at Friars Alley and fastening locks and chains across the door. I told Tom of the Williams family, and of the way Dickon had burst out of the house and gone off. Tom said he had heard before of people running mad when the sickness was on them.
‘I know tales of folk who have thrown themselves out of windows or run to the river and jumped in to drown themselves,’ Tom said, shaking his head, ‘for there is such pain while the buboes are swelling that some fair go mad with it.’
‘But the doctor said that it is possible to catch the pestilence and survive.’
‘Aye,’ he said. ‘If the swellings burst and heal, there is a chance. And if the tokens have not appeared.’
‘What are tokens?’ I asked fearfully. ‘Is that another name for the buboes?’
He shook his head. ‘They are little marks under the skin.’
‘Like freckles?’
He smiled at me, tapping my nose with his finger. ‘Not like freckles!’ he said. ‘Like pink blotches. They come up on the chest or arms. And if they appear then there is no hope at all, even if the buboes have burst.’
Our hands touched and, saying nothing, we linked our little fingers so that no one else could see. ‘But how are you faring within yourself, Hannah?’ he asked me. ‘Tell me truly.’
I sighed and told him about Mew, and he said that the doctor had two pet dogs which had also been taken by the catchers. ‘It is sad,’ he said, ‘but if this helps the spread of the disease, then this is what must happen.’
On our way back I noticed several shops had been shut up, including a grocer where we sometimes got our sugar, and I wondered aloud what would happen if more and more of them closed, and where we would buy our provisions.
‘It will be difficult,’ Tom said, ‘for already there are many less pie-sellers and hawkers around. We have heard a rumour that Leadenhall Market might close because the country farmers are no longer willing to come into the city with their goods.’
‘So what will happen if we can’t get food?’
Tom shrugged. ‘I suppose the city authorities will feed us somehow – at least with our daily bread,’ he said. ‘Although the doctor says that very little provision has been made. There are no public funds for relief of the poor, and no grain stored against such an event.’ There was a moment’s silence, then he looked at me sympathetically. ‘But were you very frightened when you saw the doctor in his outfit?’
‘I was!’ I made myself shiver in what I hoped was an appealing way. ‘I thought he was a fiend from hell!’
Tom laughed. ‘Yes, he can be. But he’s a good master.’
We reached the shop and Sarah, looking out and seeing that Tom was with me, bade him come in, saying that it was nearly midday and he might like to take some dinner with us.
‘Thank you – but the doctor has asked me to go straight back,’ Tom said to her. ‘And I have many potions and preventatives to make up.’
‘Another time, then,’ Sarah said. She turned and busied herself over the fire, tactfully averting her eyes from us as we parted. My mouth felt dry, for I could see a certain look in Tom’s eyes and was very nervous as to whether he would try to kiss me and if I should allow it.
He told me to take all necessary precautions against the sickness and said that he would see me as soon as he was able, then leaned forward and quickly brushed across my cheek with his lips. I was cross with myself afterwards, for I offered my cheek to him so quickly that he actually ended up kissing one of the ribbons on my cap.
But then again, perhaps I should not have allowed him such freedom anyway. I resolved that I would ask Abby, and went in thinking that for the last four whole minutes I had managed to forget about the plague altogether.
Three days later – for there was much to do and, as Sarah was rather low in spirits, I did not wish to leave her – I went up with our water jugs to Bell Court, hoping to see Abby. There was water to be obtained closer, but I knew she favoured this place and I was anxious to know how she was faring.
She was not in the queue for water, however, which was half as long as it usually was, for a great many of the quality had gone out of town now, either taking their servants or leaving them to fend for themselves. I could remember where she lived, so leaving my jugs unfilled for the moment, I made my way there. As I passed the various churches: St Bride’s, All Hallows, St Sepulchre’s, each was tolling its bell to tell of someone’s passing.
I would not have dared to knock at the front door of the house, but there was a young boy in the yard grooming one of the horses, and
I asked him if Abby was at home. He ran off and a few moments later came back with Abby behind him.
To my great relief – for there had been a horrid dread in my mind – she looked perfectly fine and healthy. We hugged and I said I’d been anxious about her, having not seen her at the conduit.
She pointed to a well in the yard. ‘Mr Beauchurch says we must use this water now and not gather in Bell Court. He says that being in crowds is dangerous.’ She pulled a face. ‘And so I have to miss my afternoon gossips!’
She took my arm and we walked across the yard into the coolness of the dairy, which was a big, airy room tiled in blue and white. Milk churns stood along the floor, and there was a butter and cheese maker, and several big round wheels of cheese. ‘But Hannah, what d’you think!’ she said excitedly. ‘I am to travel to Dorchester with my mistress and the babe!’
‘Where is Dorchester?’ I asked, for I had never heard of it.
‘It’s in Dorsetshire, southwest of London. We are to go to a great estate belonging to my mistress’s sister, who is a titled lady, and there we will be safe from the sickness.’
‘Oh,’ I said, feeling a little forlorn. ‘When will you go?’
‘As soon as the mistress is well enough to travel.’
‘And just you with her?’
She nodded. ‘Mrs Beauchurch says that out of all the servants, I am best with the babe.’ She smiled. ‘For sure having six little sisters has helped me there.’
‘But what about your master – doesn’t he want to travel out of London as well?’
‘He has to stay at his mercers’ company to run the business,’ she said. ‘Besides, only two travel certificates can be obtained, and they are fearfully difficult to get because they have to be signed by the Lord Mayor himself. No other signatures are being accepted!’ She danced a few steps around the floor. ‘Just think, it will take four days to travel there and we have to stay at inns along the road, where I shall meet all sorts of young gallants!’
I laughed at her, for she was twirling around and lifting her petticoats as if she was ribbon-dancing around the maypole at home. ‘But what about your sweetheart?’
She pulled a face. ‘He’s nothing but a niggardly hog-grubber,’ she said. ‘I’ve seen him walking out with one of the girls from the coffee shop.’
I was quiet for a moment. ‘I shall miss you,’ I said. ‘But when do you think your mistress will be well enough to travel?’
‘Next week, maybe. Though she was monstrous sick in the night and I had to go into her three times.’
‘But is the babe well?’
‘Aye. Healthy and hungry.’
Just then, a very well-rounded woman in a maroon gown, and a young girl in a black servant’s dress, came through the dairy, both carrying shopping baskets. The fat woman frowned slightly at Abby, who just gave a beaming smile in return.
‘All the house are very jealous that I’m going to Dorchester!’ Abby whispered, and then laughed aloud. ‘Lord, but did you see the size of Cook? That gown sits on her as tight as the skin on a plum.’ She slipped towards the back doorway of the dairy. ‘Come on – almost everyone’s out now, and the mistress is asleep. Come in and I’ll show you all the furnishings!’
The house was very large, the largest and grandest I’d ever been in. Beyond the dairy was a still room, with bunches of herbs drying and blossoms being prepared for pot-pourri and flower water, and beyond that a laundry, with ropes on which aired white linen smocks and damask bed-sheets. There was a kitchen and dining room on the next floor, but we did not go into these because Abby said the housekeeper was around. We tiptoed up to the next floor and Abby opened the door to the drawing room, showing walls hung with black and silver striped silk, delicate carved furniture and small settles bearing purple velvet cushions shot with silver. There were many portraits, too, although Abby said she didn’t know who they were, and thick patterned rugs covered the floor.
The next room was even more sumptuous, with diamond-paned windows which overlooked the flowered courtyard below and a vast carved wood fireplace which reached the ceiling. This room had silver-gilt chairs and nests of drawers patterned in flowers, with Chinese vases and silver candlesticks atop, and was all very fine, so that I could not but gasp at the beauty of it all. ‘I never thought furnishings of a house could be so elegant,’ I said to Abby, for indeed all the houses I’d been into – big and small – had been in the country and of rustic style.
‘Oh, ’tis all for show!’ she said. ‘They never come into these rooms. But you should see the bedrooms! The mistress’s room has Venetian mirrors all over, and she sleeps in a four-poster with gold hangings that are said to have come from Persia.’
Once she’d told me this, I longed to go upstairs and see these things, but Abby said she didn’t dare take me. She did say, though, that if I went up the servants’ stairs to her room, then she would go to the nursery and bring the babe to see me.
To tell the truth I was not that bothered about the babe, having seen more than enough of my little brothers and sisters as infants, but Abby said it was a pretty one and seemed so eager to show it off that we went to her room and I waited while she fetched it.
It was a pretty babe, about three months old and still swaddled, with thick dark hair. She was awake and smiled up at us, so Abby loosened the cambric sheet around her and let her wave her arms.
‘This is Grace,’ Abby said. ‘And she must think I’m her mother, for it’s been me who’s been looking after her since she was born.’
‘How is she fed if your mistress is so ill?’ I asked. ‘Does she have a wet nurse?’
Abby shook her head. ‘They won’t allow a wet nurse for fear of contagion, so a maid with the milch-ass calls here twice a day.’ She stroked the baby’s cheek. ‘I trickle the milk down my hand and this little squab sucks my fingers.’
I was silent for a moment, and then I asked in a low voice, ‘It’s not plague that your mistress has, is it?’
Abby laughed. ‘’Tis not! Plague would have carried her off by now. It’s just childbed fever. Though, to tell the truth,’ she added, ‘when I wash her, I always look her over for the tokens, for I know that plague is no respecter of persons. It can visit a lady as quick as an ale-house wife.’
‘And do you take a preventative yourself?’
She nodded. ‘The mistress’s doctor made us up some treacle with conserves of roses before he went into the country. And we all chew a piece of angelica root when we go out.’
Talking of the preventatives made me think of Tom, and, rather embarrassed, I brought his name into the conversation and asked Abby whether I should allow him the liberty of kissing me or not. ‘I mean proper kissing – on the lips,’ I explained.
She laughed. ‘Of course!’ she said. ‘For what’s a sweetheart for if you don’t get one or two kisses from him!’
‘Mother used to say—’
Abby waved her hand dismissively. ‘It’s different in London,’ she said. ‘And different now, when no one can count on living two days at a time. If you’re visited by the plague—’
I gave a little gasp of fright.
‘You don’t want to go to your grave unkissed, do you?’
I smiled and blushed. ‘Indeed I don’t!’
‘Well, then,’ she said.
Laughing, I said I would think on it, and bid her goodbye.
Chapter Nine
The first week of August
‘And I frighted to see so many graves lie so high upon the churchyard where so many have been buried of the Plague.’
‘Praying is all very well,’ said the stout woman in church, ‘but I cannot fast! And I do not see why I have to. I don’t believe the king will be fasting. I’m sure he and his court will be sitting down to their grouse and oysters and lobsters and geese just the same as they always do!’
Sarah and I smiled at the woman, who was as wide as she was high, and moved slightly further down the pew and away from her. She was hot and red-faced
and we did not wish her breath to fall on us, for the latest rumour was that you should keep cool and keep your distance from others as much as possible in order to avoid contaminated air. It appeared that the authorities did not know this rumour, however, for we were still required to attend church regularly, and without fail on the first Wednesday in each month.
The Bills had shown that near two and a half thousand had died of plague in the past week, and on the way into St Dominic’s that morning I had not been able to avoid seeing how the ground in the graveyard had risen; how corpses had been laid upon corpses so that the ground on each side of the pathway had swelled to a height of several feet. It made me shudder to see it, for I could not help but imagine them all lying there in the cold earth in their winding sheets – for few were given the sanctity of a coffin – old piled upon young, men upon women, laid without care or ceremony.
Once seated in church, we discovered that our own minister had moved to the safety of the country, and another now stood in his place. He gave a violent and frightening sermon which lasted nearly two hours, telling us that the plague was a judgement on the behaviour of the people, and of the terrible death and hellfire which awaited us unless we truly repented of our blasphemies and sins. He affrighted me so terribly that I had to take Sarah’s hand, but she whispered to me that he could not mean the likes of us, for a just God could not account any sins we had committed as being evil enough to take us to Hell.
Going home, we saw a sad sight: a young woman carrying a small box in her arms, weeping aloud and calling, ‘Oh my child . . . oh my precious!’ as she trudged towards St Olave’s churchyard. Sarah whispered that she probably wanted to take the baby to the graveyard herself and make sure it had a decent burial. ‘For she will surely be shut in as soon as the authorities find out the child has died,’ she added.
Another strange sight we saw was that of a poor madman, raving deliriously, clad with only a cloth about his loins. He was beating his naked breast and screaming out to the Heavens to deliver him from his life on earth, for his whole family had been taken with the plague and he no longer wished to live. Sarah threw a coin to him and we hurried past without speaking.