‘I was in the house when it happened! I know the family better than you do. If it hadn’t been for Randall’s personal recommendation, you wouldn’t have even been allowed through the door. You can’t do this without me, Professor. Wouldn’t it be an advantage to have someone to ask questions who doesn’t have to come in via the servants’ entrance?’
‘So high and mighty when she thinks she has the upper hand,’ Merchiston commented drily. ‘What would your fiancé think of it?’
‘Exactly the same as he’d think about my being shut in a room with a man and no chaperone in the early hours of the morning,’ I fired back. ‘Absolutely nothing, because he’s not going to find out.’
He flushed in the dim light, and I realised that reminding him of the impropriety of the situation was a mistake. He could escort me out now, avoid being alone with me ever again, and this odd, tenuous partnership would be at an end.
But all he did was avoid my gaze and resume hacking away at Clara Wilson’s exposed skeleton. I returned to my original task of writing up the labels to go with the organs we would preserve, and for a while the only sounds in the room were the scratch of pen against paper, the scrape of blade against bone and the less than steady breathing of two people who were trying to ignore each other.
When he had finished, he was flushed and sweating.
‘Now for the organs. Whoever said the eyes are the windows to the soul never saw a perfectly dissected kidney. Let’s do the stomach together. Then I’ll take the bowel. It’s slippery, and the last thing we want to do is cut it at this point. It doesn’t matter how long it’s been since you’ve eaten, you’ll want to throw up.’
It felt like scooping out a deflating balloon that had been filled with water. Once we had lifted the organ out, he took it in his hands and scrutinised it.
‘Reasonably good health. She had a nutritious diet, and all that running around after Mrs Greene kept her heart in good condition. Better than most doctors I know.’
He placed it gently on the scale and nodded before moving to a contraption of copper and glass. ‘The Marsh test. If there’s arsenic in her stomach, we’ll find it here. It will take a while, though – best go and get yourself some breakfast before lectures.’
Grisly as it was, I was loath to leave him. ‘Are you sure there’s nothing more I can do?’
He waved the scattered sheets he had been scribbling on at me and I frowned. I had hoped for something a little more useful than transcription.
‘Could you write these up for me? Your handwriting is neater. Mine looks like a spider fell in some ink and ambled across the page.’
‘And whilst I’m acting as your secretary, you’ll be doing what precisely?’
He frowned. ‘This will go faster for both of us if the notes are legible.’
‘You don’t see me as your equal.’
He frowned. ‘Well of course I don’t! Oh Christ, not because you’re a woman – don’t look at me like that. You’re a first-year medical student! In the university hierarchy, you’re the lowest of the low. I don’t doubt your potential, but experience and wisdom are on my side.’
‘Along with arrogance!’
He gave me a lopsided smile. ‘I’m a doctor. We’re supposed to be arrogant. Wait a few years and it’ll be part of your studies – how to enrage the general populace and still keep your calm and your professional reputation.’
God, he could be charming when he wanted. I was used to him mercurial and brooding, all gallows humour and a wry smirk. The twinkle in his eye unnerved me.
A professional reputation was all I would have left once I had finished disentangling myself from Miles. A woman minus her virginity who had called off the engagement meant to restore her facade of respectability? I wouldn’t get a second chance at marriage.
He gave me a long, searching look.
‘Is this really what you think you want?’
‘Are you implying that I don’t know my own mind, Professor?’
‘I’m saying that live patients are generally more interesting than dead ones. And no police force is going to allow a woman as their surgeon, though if it were up to me, you ladies could have your fill of the poisoned, bludgeoned and drowned. I just don’t want you to look back on your studies and feel that you’ve wasted your time. That you’ve allowed me to distract you from your chosen field because of my selfishness.’
‘You’re not selfish.’
He looked away, a colour rising in his cheeks.
‘I like the company. Enough to drag you from your bed at some godforsaken hour just to help me crack open a woman’s chest.’
‘Precisely. You didn’t interrupt my studying or pull me out of a lecture – I’m doing this in my own time and of my own free will.’
‘Either way, there’s nothing more you can do here. I’ll take you upstairs – God knows you’ll never find your way back without a guide.’
We must have made an odd pair, moving through the corridors stinking of chemicals and dead flesh. Merchiston’s once pristine apron was covered in blood smears and damp patches where unmentionable fluid had splashed him.
‘I can think of better places to bring your sweetheart, Merchiston.’
I almost screamed, and hated myself for it. A young constable, the first living person I had seen here today aside from the professor, was smirking at us from an office. My cheeks burned.
‘Miss Gilchrist is my assistant,’ Merchiston ground out.
‘Aye? Dr Littlejohn approve that, did he?’ A muscle in Merchiston’s jaw twitched. ‘Thought not. Your secret’s safe with me, Professor.’ The constable gave me an unpleasant smile. ‘Consider it a favour to a friend.’
Once the door shut behind him, the professor swore.
‘Christ. I’d rather not be indebted to him of all people. Crooked as they come and slippery with it.’
‘I’m sorry.’ Ever since I had met the man, I had done nothing but bring trouble to his door. And yet I couldn’t feel too guilty – he had invited me here knowing how it might look to his colleagues.
‘You’re not in charge of my reputation, lass.’ True – I was barely in charge of my own. But there was no denying that even the breath of rumour would see him censured and me sent down, yet another black mark against the entirety of the female sex within the walls of the university. Although I knew that each woman was seen as carrying the flag for our sex, representing the virtue of every female student present and future was somewhat tiring.
The truth was, I would rather spend a day in the morgue with Professor Merchiston than an evening in the company of my intended, and I didn’t want to parse too deeply into what that meant.
‘You’ve been a great help, Miss Gilchrist. Now go and get a cup of tea and some toast; I expect you to be wide awake and fresh as a daisy at eleven.’ He paused. ‘You might want to reread the chapter on potassium sulphate. Don’t think your assistance here gets you out of me calling on you in class.’
I took the money awkwardly but with gratitude – my purse was empty and I hadn’t thought beyond getting out of the house unnoticed.
When I saw him again, he was marching briskly down the street as though he had just awoken, and as I sipped my tea I couldn’t help but wonder if I had dreamed the entire strange event. The only proof that I had spent the early hours of the morning accompanying him in an autopsy and murder investigation was the sharp chemical smell that clung to my skin, and beneath it the sweet stench of death.
Chapter 6
So much for Merchiston’s much-vaunted discretion. The murder had made the newspapers before I even reached the university – not the better papers, not yet, but the ones hawked by grubby boys on street corners with grubbier headlines printed in ink so fresh it was damp to the touch.
HOUSEMAID MURDERED!
I had been the subject of gossip before, but nothing as public as this.
Even Alison was curious, although her cool manner reminded me that I had hurt her dreadfully. I should have inv
ited her to the engagement party – although perhaps in retrospect it was better that I hadn’t.
‘And I thought your engagement would be the scandal of the term!’ said Caroline Carstairs. ‘Who cares about a man when you witnessed a murder!’
‘I didn’t witness a murder,’ I sighed. Or at least, I hadn’t witnessed this one. ‘It all happened outside.’
‘But you must have passed her on your way to dinner. Imagine getting so close to a murdered body! I would have fainted on the spot!’
‘You pushed your way to the front row at Professor Williamson’s public lobotomy last week and didn’t blink.’
There was laughter. ‘The sound of that saw! I still hear it in my nightmares.’
‘It’s just a bone saw, Carstairs. You’ve seen them before.’
‘But it’s different when it’s the skull. I don’t know why, it just is.’
I hadn’t attended the public surgery. Instead, I had been at a dress fitting, my aunt’s modiste grumbling in a bad attempt at a French accent that I had put on weight. I felt the same pressure now, like the muscle memory of my thoracic tissue compressing as Madame Leroux – Marie Lennox on her birth certificate – cinched the corset tighter. It was happening already, I realised. While the others were gobbling up any scrap of knowledge they could, I was falling behind. The memory of my marks in the winter examinations surged sickeningly and I forced it back down. This new life I had fought so hard for was already slipping through my fingers.
I slid into the lecture theatre seat moments before Professor Merchiston began to speak. His fervour had worn off, and he looked tired.
‘Ah, Miss Gilchrist. How kind of you to join us. Late night?’
‘She witnessed a murder!’ Caroline piped up excitedly.
‘Did she indeed? Well, I trust this morning’s lecture won’t be too tedious in comparison.’ He paused, a dark twinkle in his eyes that I didn’t trust for a moment. ‘I recall Mrs Chalmers saying it was your engagement party. I do hope your future groom is unharmed.’
‘He’s perfectly well,’ I said through gritted teeth. ‘Please don’t let me distract you from your lecture.’
‘The whole university is talking about it,’ Moira Owen said afterwards, a hint of chastisement in her voice. ‘Honestly, Gilchrist, could you avoid miring us in scandal for five minutes? No wonder your first term marks were so dire.’
I flinched.
Julia rolled her eyes. ‘It’s hardly her fault some poor servant got murdered.’
Moira glanced at her sharply, knowing that she and I were hardly bosom companions.
‘I didn’t see anything,’ I lied. ‘I simply spoke to a policeman and then we all went home. It was quite undramatic.’ I squeezed Alison’s arm. ‘You didn’t miss a thing, I promise.’
She shook off my hand without looking at me.
The rest of the day dragged on painfully – I had done exactly what Elisabeth had warned me not to do and barely slept a wink, and just as she had predicted, I was no good for anything. There were not many young ladies in my social circle – or anyone’s, I imagined – capable of falling asleep while listening to a graphic description of varying shades of sputum associated with tuberculosis, but as I stifled a yawn during Randall Chalmers’ spirited, if disgusting, presentation, I thought I might join their ranks.
Adrenaline had helped me through my morning lectures and a cup of coffee through the first one of the afternoon, but now my eyes were starting to feel gritty and even my bones were heavy. I wondered if Randall would mind if I took a nap while he talked. His voice was so very soothing. A sharp kick to my right ankle from his wife woke me up – had I been snoring? – and I realised I was being addressed.
‘Miss Gilchrist, the slides?’
I looked at the microscope on the table in front of him and made a quick deduction. There were two small vials of revolting-looking effluence next to it, each with a pipette.
I made my way to the front of the class, hoping my expression conveyed academic interest rather than exhaustion, and picked up the glass containing a rust-coloured mucus.
Randall cleared his throat and jerked his head to the other vial. This was going well already.
I sucked up a few drops from the pipette and squeezed them out onto the small glass rectangle.
‘From the colour, what would you diagnose?’
It was a rather unpleasant yellow-green – I was struck with a sudden desire to burn my chartreuse gown when I got home – with brown streaks.
‘Extrapulmonary tuberculosis.’
‘Well done. Now take a look and let us know what you see.’
As soon as I was finished, the others crowded around the table, eager for their turn. Sketches were made, the slides were labelled and all in all we had rather more fun examining bodily fluids than might be thought proper. The penultimate lecture of the day, it went quickly – although the essay Randall set and the mountain of reading he recommended would keep me studying until the wee hours.
‘Don’t forget that if you wish to use the equipment outside of class you may, but make sure you book it with the faculty administrator first,’ he reminded us as we exited the room noisily.
‘Will you be home in time for dinner?’ Elisabeth asked her husband.
‘It won’t be late – I’m ravenous. Tell Cook to set an extra place. Gregory will be joining us.’
‘I’ll let her know. Remember, Sarah is eating with us tonight too.’
‘Damn – sorry, my love. It’s hardly proper—’
‘Neither was elbowing your way into a murder investigation last night, but the three of you weren’t worrying about etiquette then,’ she noted tartly. ‘It’s an informal tea, and Sarah needs to take her mind off all this ghastliness.’
‘You mean you want to gossip about her fiancé’s family,’ he commented wryly.
‘Why is it that when you and Gregory are discussing a case it’s medical business, but when Sarah and I do, it’s gossip?’
‘I just don’t want you getting dragged into something so ugly, darling.’
Elisabeth frowned, and I cleared my throat pointedly. Much as I agreed with her, I didn’t want to play audience to a marital tiff – especially not one that could see me banned from the investigation.
I took her arm. ‘We’ll talk about nothing but dresses and parties, I promise,’ I assured Randall.
Splashing my face and hands with cold water in the small room allocated to the female students as a cloakroom – we were not considered sufficient in number or stature to warrant giving over one of the men’s dressing areas – I tried desperately to wake myself up for the final lecture of the day.
I found myself paired with Julia on a man’s partially dissected leg, alternating between completing the dissection and sketching the gruesome result.
‘Right before dinner,’ she grumbled. ‘I don’t know how Williamson can stand it.’
‘He’s not flesh and blood, he’s an automaton.’ I smiled.
‘No, that’s Merchiston,’ she snorted.
I looked away, hoping my cheeks weren’t as red as they felt. I had touched his flesh, wiped away his blood. Gregory Merchiston might be the oddest man I had ever met, but he was undeniably human.
‘He’s far too dissolute to be an automaton,’ Edith sniffed. ‘The other day, I swear he hadn’t shaved. And neither cologne nor formaldehyde can mask the smell of ale. I don’t know why they allow him to teach.’
I had seen Merchiston suffering from overindulgence before, but it hadn’t occurred to me that it could be a regular event. If his movements were slow sometimes, I had always attributed it to tiredness, or the after-effects of too much time spent in the boxing ring. Certainly the man with whom I had cut open Clara Wilson’s body that morning hadn’t been under the weather as one might expect – rather, he had been animated and full of vitality. A fine doctor I’d make if I couldn’t even recognise the symptoms of a hangover.
Two hours later, I stretched out on the floor
before Elisabeth’s fireplace. It wasn’t exactly the most ladylike of positions, but neither of us cared much about that.
‘Is it drying?’ she asked through a mouthful of crumpet.
I fingered the damp locks reaching down to my waist. ‘Not really. But the warmth is divine. I might stay here all night.’
‘What on earth possessed you to come out without a hat?’
‘Left it in the chemistry lab. I was in such a bad mood after that practical, it’s a miracle I managed to remember my coat.’ I rubbed the burn on the metacarpophalangeal joint of my index finger, courtesy of being paired with a jittery Edith, who was mimicking her friend’s – lover’s? – attempts at friendship with considerably less conviction.
I had paid for my carelessness when the wild flurries of sleet had hit my skin like a slap, but by that point I was so desperate to leave the university buildings that I didn’t bother retrieving my lost property. I had run through the Meadows, my head bowed against the inclement weather, and announced my presence on my best friend’s doorstep by sneezing three times. My boots and stockings had been whipped away by the housekeeper to be dried off somewhere more private, and I dug my toes into the deep rug with a happy sigh.
‘I’m surprised that you even made it out of the house this morning, after such a shock last night.’
I grimaced. ‘Aunt Emily would keep me under lock and key if she could at the best of times, but with Colonel Greene so determined to act as though nothing were wrong, she didn’t have much choice.’
‘I’m sure the police will find the murderer soon,’ Elisabeth mused. ‘Randall said that Gregory was discussing all sorts of possibilities with them after we left.’
‘I don’t suppose he shared them with you?’ I asked hopefully.
She swatted me. ‘You’re so morbid, Sarah. I admit, I’m intrigued, but you’d be out there walking the streets with the sergeants and constables if you could.’
‘Aunt Emily would have kittens! She was unhappy enough about letting me speak to Merchiston directly, and at least he’s in a respectable profession.’ I smiled mirthlessly. ‘For a man, at any rate.’
The Unquiet Heart Page 5