A Sickness in the Soul

by William Savage

  ‘But how did he persuade Danson to sell?’ Foxe asked. ‘From all I have heard, Danson never sold any of his books, whatever people were willing to offer.’

  ‘As I understand it,’ Smith said, ‘Wake persuaded Danson to let him examine the book. Then, when Danson refused to sell, he said he would take it anyway. Wake is a young man, sir, as I said. He thought the elderly Danson could easily be prevented from taking the book back again. According to his later story, it did not turn out like that. Danson sprang up from his chair and seized a dagger that was lying on his desk. Why he had such a thing in his library is beyond me.’

  ‘He used it to slit the pages of new books, I believe,’ Foxe said.

  ‘I see. Well, Wake said Danson came towards him, holding the dagger in front of him and demanding that he hand over the volume. Wake claimed he was in fear of his life, though whether any of us believed him is far from certain. Either way, in order to escape, he punched Danson in the face. Danson staggered back and collapsed into his chair. At first, Wake said that he thought the man was merely stunned. A second look convinced him that the man had suffered either an apoplexy or a heart attack. Being an apothecary, he understood the signs to look for. That was when he slipped out of the house as quietly as he could, still carrying the book.’

  ‘Was Dr Danson already dead?’ Foxe asked.

  ‘Your guess is as good as mine, Mr Foxe. I doubt Wake stayed long enough to be certain himself. He said it was clear the man’s life could not be saved. Make of that what you will.’

  Nobody knew Wake in Norwich, Smith continued, so he left as quickly as he could. His intention was to make his way back to Cambridge, extract the fifteen pounds, and use it to go somewhere he could evade justice. He would have probably returned to the life of a wandering quack-doctor.

  ‘Did you believe what he had told you?’ Foxe said.

  ‘On balance, I think we did. It made little difference either way. He had confessed to theft and assault in front of us all. We sent one of our number to summon the university proctors to take him into custody. Meanwhile, he pleaded with us to allow him to cross the court to where the privies stood. He said he needed to relieve himself to avoid the added embarrassment of being taken into custody having wet his trousers.’

  ‘You agreed?’

  ‘We did,’ Smith said. ‘Naturally we were suspicious, so one of our members accompanied him to make sure he returned. Sadly, while they were crossing the court, Wake tripped the man up, then ran hell for leather for the main gates. Thus it was he managed to make good his escape. No one has seen or heard of him since.’

  ‘If it’s any consolation, Dr Danson did die of a heart attack,’ Foxe said. ‘The medical examiner said so at the inquest. If a man is found with a dagger sticking out of his chest, most doctors would not look elsewhere for the cause of death. What produced suspicion was the lack of sufficient blood. Someone came into that library after Wake had left, found Danson helpless in his chair, and used his own dagger to stab him. He thought he was committing murder, even though he was not.’

  ‘Are you sure?’ Smith asked.

  ‘Sure enough, after all you have said. We will never be wholly sure what took place. The person whom I now believe stabbed Dr Danson is dead himself. Nonetheless, everything points to him as the killer. Wake has escaped a charge of theft, and possibly one of common assault. He is not a murderer.’

  ‘A small consolation to my group,’ Smith said, ‘but I suppose it must suffice. Will you take this book back to the widow on our behalf, Mr Foxe? We cannot accept stolen property, especially if it was obtained by murder.’

  ‘Mrs Danson has asked me to sell the whole of her husband’s library on her behalf, Mr Smith. If you and your colleagues are still keen to obtain this volume, I’m sure she will agree to sell it to you for a far lesser sum than the one you mentioned. I think three pounds and ten shillings would be a fair price in view of what you have told me of the book, don’t you?’

  ‘Most fair,’ Smith said, beaming. ‘We will be more than happy to give you that sum. Of course, we will pay you a commission as well.’

  ‘No need,’ Foxe said. ‘Mrs Danson has agreed to give me a suitable proportion of the money obtained for the books as recompense for my time and trouble.’

  ‘You are an honest man, sir,’ Smith said, now even more delighted, ‘and it is a pleasure to do business with you. If you are selling the whole of the library, maybe there will be other books we would be interested in, either individually or as a group. Do you have a list of those volumes that are for sale?’

  ‘Not yet. I will produce one shortly and be sure to send you a copy. Now, let me thank you for coming all this way to tell me what had happened and to return the volume. I am extremely grateful to you on both counts. Before you leave, may I be impertinent enough to ask you a personal question?’ Smith nodded his agreement. ‘Is Anthony Smith your real name?’

  Smith’s response was to burst out laughing. When he recovered himself, he gave his answer.

  ‘Indeed, it is, Mr Foxe, though not all of it. I’m not surprised that you thought a stranger, introducing himself as Mr A. Smith, was operating under a pseudonym. Let me now introduce myself properly. I am Sir Anthony Foxley-Smith of Braidcote Manor. As I explained, when I came here the first time, the members of our small group at the University of Cambridge share an interest in tracing the early history of scientific endeavour. In the course of this, we have found it necessary to explore the writings of alchemists, Kabbalists, Freemasons, Rosicrucians and the like. Stripped of the obscure terminology and mystical baggage, many of these books point the way to genuine discoveries. Sadly, those of a superstitious turn of mind, let alone religious bigots, would not easily understand what we are doing. Several of the members of our group hold important positions within the university as Fellows of the various colleges. A few are independent scholars. Others are members of the clergy. That is why we prefer to conduct our activities out of the public view. It is not for any more sinister reason, I assure you. Now, I must be upon my way. My thanks to you again, Mr Foxe. I’m sure we will do business together on many future occasions.’

  22

  Because he had been delayed by his unexpected visitor, it was nearly two o’clock in the afternoon by the time Foxe was finally standing on the doorstep of Lady Cockerham’s house. Even then, he hurried all the way so that he now felt flustered and somewhat disarranged. There was also a cold fear inside him that he might be denied entrance. His knock was therefore not the usual firm, double knock he gave to such a door. More of a tentative pair of light taps, as if this was the lair of some terrible dragon and he feared to awaken the wrath of the beast hidden within.

  The door was answered by a young maidservant he had not met before. She stood aside to allow him in, took his visiting card and gravely asked him to wait in the hall. She would inquire whether her mistress was able to receive visitors.

  Foxe, left standing alone, was now pray to even more irrational fears of rejection. It came as a considerable relief when the young maid returned and asked him to follow her to the mistress’s parlour. Lady Cockerham was waiting to receive him.

  On the way, Maria, Lady Cockerham’s personal maid, appeared from nowhere. Then she stepped forward and kissed Foxe lightly on the cheek, wishing him “good luck!” as she did, before disappearing as silently as she had come.

  On entering the room, Foxe found Lady Cockerham standing erect by the fireplace. The ray of early afternoon sun in which she was standing made her look like a Grecian statue of a goddess. She appeared at once heartbreakingly beautiful and as cold as the marble from which such statues were made. The stare she gave him as he entered was worthy of an affronted queen, not the youngest daughter of an insignificant Irish peer. Without hesitation, Foxe sank to his knees in front of her. There he began to stammer out the apologies he had been so carefully preparing.

  Sadly, this dramatic tableau was quickly marred as the lady herself burst into a fit of helpless gig
gling.

  ‘Do get up, Ash dear,’ she said through her laughter. ‘You look quite ridiculous down there. Mistress Tabby counselled me to be severe with you, but I am nowhere near a sufficiently good actress to maintain such an uncongenial role. There are no apologies needed, in any case. Your proposal of marriage did not offend me in any way. In fact, I thought it rather sweet of you. The reason I burst out into such unforgivable laughter was simply the way you looked as you delivered it. You were so serious and pompous! I was quite unable to restrain myself. Then you walked away in a bad temper without allowing me to explain or apologise, as I would have done given the opportunity. Now, do please sit down so that we may have a proper conversation like civilised people.’

  Foxe slumped into the nearest chair, so overcome with relief that he could think of nothing to say in response. No words were needed from him. Lady Cockerham sat opposite, patted his knee, and continued to speak with barely a pause.

  ‘Your absence, silly and regrettable though it was, may yet have proved to be of great benefit, at least to me. I used the time to think seriously about myself and my growing fondness for you. I also seized the opportunity for several long, intimate discussions with dear Mistress Tabby. She is indeed a wise woman, Ash, in reality as well as name. She also loves you deeply and is as much committed to your future welfare and happiness as any mother could be. Together, we reached the conclusion that it was high time I told you my most hidden secret. If I did not do that, things would never be on the correct footing between us. To be honest, I should have done this some time ago, but I was not certain of my own feelings until now.

  ‘You know that I was married once before. That I did tell you. I also expect that you assumed that I was widowed young, thus accounting for the absence of a husband. That, I fear, is not the case. My husband is alive and well, though I am not quite sure where he is at the current time. Our marriage was very much the normal affair, arranged between the two families. Since I found him handsome and charming, I saw no reason to object in any way. It was not until shortly after the wedding itself that I discovered I had made a dreadful mistake. My husband then told me he preferred the company of young men in his bed to that of any woman. I should not, therefore, look for any physical satisfaction from him during the course of our marriage. A wife was just a means of concealing his real inclinations from the world at large. As I’m sure you understand, if they became known he would become an object of ridicule. He might even be subjected to a criminal trial and the threat of the death penalty. To have a wife, even one that was permanently absent, was thus much better than having none at all. That is why there has never been any possibility of a divorce or to have the marriage annulled. He managed — by what means I do not know — to consummate our marriage on our wedding night. However, he said he had no intention of ever repeating the experience. I was to be left as a wife in name only, honoured and well cared for, but deprived of the intimate companionship due between husband and wife. Meanwhile, he assured me that he was, by nature, a most prudent man. He would take care to pursue his various amours during the many journeys overseas which he was obliged to undertake in the course of his government duties. For the rest of the time, I might do as I wished, provided only that I did not betray my knowledge to anyone else, nor cause him any embarrassment. Thus far, I have followed his wishes in both respects.’

  ‘What has changed?’ Foxe asked.

  ‘You have come into my life and I have fallen in love with you. There! I have said it. If my words have horrified you, you may walk away now. I will doubtless cry for a time, but I’m sure I will get over it.’

  ‘My dearest, Bella,’ Foxe said warmly, ‘I will do nothing of the kind. I came here today having at last discovered my feelings for you and terrified that you would send me away. Now you tell me those feelings are reciprocated. I ought to be the happiest man in the world.’

  ‘Ought to be? What stands in your way? I know you have bedded more women than I am probably able to count. I have set that aside already as a possible impediment. Don’t, for goodness sake, tell me that you too have contracted a marriage at some time that I know nothing about.’

  ‘Nothing like that, I assure you. It is far simpler. I do not know what to do. You cannot marry without exposing your husband to disgrace and danger. I have far too much regard for you to suggest any other arrangement.’

  ‘You may have, Ash, but I do not,’ Lady Cockerham said. ‘Between us, Mistress Tabby and I have come up with a possible solution. I must warn you that it comes with certain firm conditions. I do not care a fig for what the world thinks of me. It will probably suit my husband very well to be able to tell his acquaintances he has sent me away because he found I had taken a younger lover. Very well, let us make that the truth. Not that he has sent me away, but the other part. If you agree, let us be husband-and-wife in all but name. We will keep our separate homes and establishments, since I am sure we both value our independence. For the rest, we will spend as much time together as we may, let the world think whatever it will. I imagine most men will envy you as much as most so-called respectable women will despise me. So be it! At least we can be happy in our own way.’

  Foxe’s mouth hung open in amazement. It had never occurred to him that any decent and outwardly conventional woman, let alone a titled lady, would be willing to enter into such an arrangement. He was still gathering his wits together to give an answer when she interrupted him.

  ‘No! Wait before you speak! You have not yet heard my conditions. If I am to offer you the love, companionship and devotion a man should expect of his wife, I expect to be treated as such. That means an end to your regrettable habit of jumping into bed with any young woman who smiles in your direction. We may not have exchanged vows of faithfulness in church, but I will hold you to such a vow nonetheless. Can you keep it?’

  ‘I do not know,’ he said simply. Truth was the only thing that would serve at this point. ‘I have never tried before. All I can promise is to do my best.’

  Once again, Bella Cockerham began to giggle. ‘Don’t look so sad and solemn, Ash, dear. I know how difficult it will be for you, so I have decided to add a single exception. You were instrumental in introducing me to Maria, who became my lady’s maid. Since then, she has become most dear to me, as, I venture to say, I have to her. It is now impossible for me to treat her as a servant, so I have determined she will no longer be one. Since you came here last, she has become my lady companion. She is already well on her way to developing the grace and polished manners necessary to appear with me in public. I am well aware of what passed between you on various occasions before this. I also know that she harbours the deepest affection for you. I will therefore continue to turn a blind eye whenever you need you feel a little variety and she decides to accommodate your needs. What do you say?’

  ‘I don’t know what to say, my lady —’

  ‘It was Bella a moment ago. I much prefer that when we are together in private. I know my name is Arabella, but that is far too much of a mouthful, much as Ashmole is.’

  Foxe grinned. ‘Very well,’ he said. ‘Let it be Bella and Ash. What you have suggested will make me fortunate almost beyond the lot of mortal man. Of course, I agree. Who would not?’

  It’s almost exactly as it was with Gracie and Kitty, Foxe thought to himself. Maria, just like Kitty, will provide the youthful body, the fun and excitement. Bella will be my rock, just as Gracie was until she went away.

  ‘In that case,’ Lady Cockerham continued, ‘let us retire together and seal our agreement in the most appropriate way possible. After that, I suggest you stay to dine with Maria and myself. I will send word via a servant to your household, telling them you will not return again until very late — if at all tonight.’ Her smile was openly provocative. ‘Provided, that is, you have sufficient stamina.’

  ‘I have been accused of many things,’ Foxe replied, ‘but never of lacking that. The only thing I ask is that dinner should not be too heavy. I have found too mu
ch food detrimental to subsequent performance.’

  ‘If I think it necessary,’ the lady replied, ‘I will deny you food altogether. Let us hope it does not come to that. You seem well-nourished enough to me, but I will take great care to keep up your strength. Now, no more words!’

  She took his hand and led him towards the stairs.

  For the next two days, Foxe went around in something of a mist of happiness and contentment. He spent large parts of each evening and night at Lady Cockerham’s house. After breakfast, he returned to his own house. There he applied himself to his attempts to sell all of Mrs Danson’s books as quickly as possible and for the best possible prices. He ate something light at midday, spent an hour or so with Mrs Crombie and Charlie, before returning either before or after dinner whence he had come. He gave up his walks around the marketplace and even his visits to the coffeehouse. In the former case, he reasoned that walking to and from Lady Cockerham’s house, coupled with those activities he undertook there requiring exercise and stamina, would more than suffice. He replaced his visits to the coffeehouse with periods within which he might meet with his friend Brock or conduct other kinds of business.

  He also took Charlie with him on a visit to Mr Lavender, the cathedral librarian. The lad had worked hard on the book Mr Lavender had entrusted to him to repair. Now he was finished and the volume could be returned to the library. Lavender was delighted with what Charlie had done and praised the lad in fulsome terms. Charlie blushed and beamed in response. Lavender even offered Charlie his own personal tour of the cathedral library and its treasures, followed by a lesson in the conservation of rare manuscripts.

  ‘I shall have more work for you, my lad,’ he promised the apprentice. ‘That is, of course, if your master agrees. What you have done on this book has proved to me that you can be trusted to do your work carefully and well. To have your help will free me from a great many onerous tasks, and the cathedral chapter has ignored my requests for an assistant. With your help, albeit on an occasional basis, I think I may cope. In return, I will teach you what I can about the care of old and valuable volumes. Manuscripts too, though I doubt many of those will pass through your hands in the normal course of being a bookseller. Do you both agree with what I have suggested?’