Lisa

by Joan Van Every Frost

  “I’m going to give you a very light sleeping draught tonight, for you shouldn’t be groggy tomorrow morning for the trip. Wake me if it isn’t enough.”

  They both read for a while, Mrs. Lewis looking at a technical nursing manual she had brought back from London. They carefully avoided speaking of Jarrell’s revelation, for each hoped to put the vision of that gruesome dig far enough to the back of her mind to able to sleep.

  The next morning they set off in the buggy with David and Jonathan shortly after sunrise. At first Jarrell was silent and preoccupied. Lisa fell in with his mood and occupied herself with adjusting her hand in the sling so that it was as comfortable as the occasional jolting allowed, and then with looking at the countryside with delight. The knowledge that something could have gone wrong, that she could even have died, plus the thought of so many murders, sharpened her perceptions of life. Every flower, every green vista, every bird song left her guiltily so grateful to be alive that she felt like singing herself.

  It was Jarrell who finally broke the silence. “Lisa, I’ve been doing a lot of thinking, and I’m convinced that somehow we’re going to have to bring your childhood back to you. I could keep you at Hartsite and be glad to, but it wouldn’t be fair to you. You’re an attractive, vital woman, and you should have more than Eric to choose from. You indicated to Mrs. Lewis once that you might be interested in nursing, and I could certainly see to it that you were trained at St. Thomas’s or a nursing school equally good. But I would want you to go into it because you were genuinely drawn to it as a profession, not because it was better than being a governess or companion or some other menial occupation. Nursing is menial, physically exhausting, thankless, and often downright disgusting. Blood, offal, and excrement are daily experiences; and in addition the most terrible smell in the world is the odor of putrifaction. Worst of all, you must be able to stand being around people in agony. Pain is medicine’s great opponent, and there are still so many illnesses we cannot help, cases where we simply have to stand by and watch the patient die in a torment we can do little for.”

  “You don’t make it sound very attractive,” Lisa said weakly.

  “I don’t mean to. It can be extremely rewarding if you have a real calling to help the sick, but only then. Otherwise you will be a very poor nurse, and God knows we already have enough of those.

  “What I am getting at about remembering your childhood is that at this point in your life I feel it very important for you to know who you are. First of all, at any time your past could burst in upon you and ruin vital plans.”

  “How could that be?”

  “All right, let’s say you are a nurse and about to marry a young doctor of good family. It sometimes happens, you know. Or perhaps a patient. Suddenly your past comes back to you, or worse, someone else manages to unravel your past, and there you are, born out of wedlock. That’s the most likely reason, you know, for a father to hide a child.”

  Lisa burst out laughing. “You must be joking. I could live with that, I’ve even thought of it myself. It’s only logical that I am something of the sort, or my father would never have been so furtive in giving me up.”

  “Ah, you can live with it, all well and good, but what about your young man and his family? Except for us, who are a very strange lot looked down upon in most quarters for our eccentricity in spite of having some money, who of the middle and upper classes do you know? If our family were conventional, do you think for one moment Eric would be allowed to see you except as an admitted concubine that he had no intention of marrying? Don’t you realize that even here the villagers are far more upset by your aspiring to another class than that you might be a murderess? A girl literally without family is without status — education and speech be damned. If it was found you were illegitimate, you would have difficulty enough, outside of being a nurse or domestic servant, in earning a living. No one wants a bastard teaching their children or keeping their rich grandmother company.”

  “You put your case forcefully, doctor,” Lisa said stiffly. “I’ll keep in mind what you’ve said while I’m deciding what to do.”

  “What you’ve got to do is to remember. Would you be willing for ether to be administered to you again?” At her expression of dismay he added, “Lisa, Lisa, I — we all care about what happens to you. I don’t want you hurt, and your past could destroy you.”

  “All right, I’ll think about it.” She didn’t sound as if she intended to think about it at all. “Believe me, I’m grateful for your concern, but I’ll make my way somehow, I always have.”

  “Thus far you’ve met with extraordinary good fortune, Lisa, whether you recognize it or not. You can’t depend on that forever.”

  The rest of the trip they spoke only occasionally and of inconsequentials.

  The streets of Burresford seemed just as bleak as she remembered them, even now at the height of spring. The houses were still grimy with coal smoke, the big dray horses still pulled their rumbling loads through the cobbled streets, the clatter of their shod hoofs sharp in the smoky air. The people still looked as grim, the children as thin and dirty — what few of them weren’t working in the mill or the garment factory. Overlaying the whole scene was the shocking knowledge of at least one aspect of the crime and violence simmering beneath the surface of all this ugliness. Lisa had no doubt that someone else had already taken over the Prices’ gruesome business.

  There was a crowd around the shop entrance when they arrived, shoving and gawking past the stolid bobby in uniform posted to keep out the curious. “Cor, look ’oos ’ere all fancied up!” someone shouted as the buggy pulled up to the entrance and Jarrell gave a coin to a youngster to hold the horses. “It’s Lisa Price, it’s the niece ... Got out just in time, didn’ cher? Watcher doin’ wiv the toff, there? Is ’e sweet on yer?” There were other good natured comments as Jarrell broke a way through the crowd, his face without expression.

  “Afternoon, sor,” the bobby said and let them through, looking curiously at Lisa.

  Inside was chaos. Every floor in the house had been taken up, and there were mounds of dirt and board catwalks over trenches everywhere. They made their way back to the kitchen, which had been filled in again and served as temporary headquarters for Wren, who was in his shirtsleeves looking dog tired. As they came up to him, he wiped his bald head wearily.

  “Good afternoon, Miss Price, doctor. Sorry to have to drag you all the way here, but no help for it.”

  “How many?” Jarrell asked.

  “Five in the courtyard and two under the storeroom, plus a dog. That’s probably the lot.”

  “Except for all those who died elsewhere,” Jarrell commented.

  “Right you are. I’d like to get my hands on that pair, I don’t mind telling you. If the whole truth were known, they’d no doubt be right up there with Burke and Hare. We’ve checked the river reports again, but it’s impossible to say which of those our friends had a hand in. There have always been some lasses that jump in the river rather than go to butchers like these, or else think the world has stopped because their young men have dumped them.”

  “I suppose most of the operations must have been successful,” Jarrell pointed out. “It’s word of mouth that keeps these assassins in business.”

  Wren nodded and turned to Lisa. “The reason we brought you all the way here was to see could we come up with some clue as to where we might look for them.” He picked up a clean sheet of paper from a stack on the table and took up his pen. “I want you to think back and tell me the names of every single person they even mentioned. I also want to know where they’ve ever travelled.”

  “Well, most of the people they talked about were people they saw every day in the shop or at the market.”

  “That’s all right, go ahead and name them all anyway.” Wren was a skillful interrogator, and he elicited details from her she didn’t know she knew. After an hour, they were still at it. “Perry!” Wren called during a pause. “Bring us a cup of tea. Will you have a
cup, Doctor?” Jarrell nodded. When it came, the tea was hot and strong, but Lisa swallowed it thirstily.

  “Now let’s see, where were we?” Wren continued, looking at the sheets of paper he had already filled with information. “You came back from Dunwiddleston, your Aunt Tatty was in the shop, and who else was in there?” She told him for the second time, and went on until the part where she locked herself in her attic room.

  Wren held up his hand. “We already know enough about that. It’s the people they knew and the places they’ve been that interest us the most. But you’re certain that there was no one who seemed to hang around all the time, no one who might have been in it with them?”

  “Oh, Tatty had friends who used to come to chat with her. I’ve told you about them, but there was no single one around all the time. Henry had no friends.”

  “We’ve already questioned some of the people you’ve named, but there are some new ones here. It’s possible one of them can remember something. The way it looks now, London or the north of England would be the most logical places to look for them. Unfortunately, we don’t have a good likeness of either one of them, only verbal descriptions. Well, we’ll do what we can.” He sighed. “Our work is only just now beginning. It makes me tired even to think of the time we’ll have to spend picking over a lot of useless information from people who can’t help us. Scotland Yard will be in it as well. And mark my words, we’ll get all kinds telling us they did it themselves, we always do.” He wiped his head again. “Thank you, and if you should think of anything, of any smallest detail, let me know.” His face hardened. “I want these people — I want them badly.”

  Lisa wondered fleetingly if she should tell him about thinking she had seen Henry just a few days back but decided that it would only mislead him.

  Jarrell offered to arrange {heir staying over if she was tired, but she refused. “I hate Burresford,” she said vehemently. “I hate everything about it. Please, let’s go home.”

  “We’re supposed to meet Eric at the Sheep’s Head. We’ll get something to eat then and start back,” Jarrell promised.

  In the end all three of them took the long road back, and Lisa was relieved that Eric showed no signs of wanting to stay in Burresford.

  11

  “This rubber ball is for you, Lisa, I want you to fit it in your hand and squeeze it as hard as you can.” Jarrell handed her a bright red ball.

  She fitted it in her permanently flexed hand and tried to squeeze. The scarred fingers closed weakly on it but could exert no pressure. “They’ve got no strength at all,” Lisa said, frowning in concentration.

  “Of course, they don’t now. I want you to exercise with that ball as much as you can bring yourself to do it, and before long you’ll find things improving. Now then, how far can you open your hand today?”

  She showed him.

  “Have you been doing what I told you?”

  To answer she took hold of the almost useless fingers of her left hand with her right one and bent them back until there was tension. She felt the tendons pull and then hurt. She let go.

  “Now this is the way I want you to do it.” He took hold of the fingers one by one, bent them back until there was tension, then with a small jerk forced them in one quick movement.

  Lisa gasped and shut her eyes each time. “That hurts.” Her voice was plaintive.

  “It’s meant to. If I left it to you and Mrs. Lewis, your hand would never work, and I didn’t go to all that trouble for nothing. Do you think you can do that yourself?”

  Lisa nodded.

  “Let me see.”

  She took each finger in turn and gave it a quick strong push toward straight.

  “That’s better. Now how’s the thumb?”

  “All right, see?” She wiggled it at him.

  He took hold of it and manipulated it. “It wasn’t nearly as badly burned as the fingers. I may have to make a minor cut later on to free the web of skin between your thumb and forefinger, but we’ll see how things go. Pick up that pen there.”

  Lisa put her hand down with the fingers touching the table next to the pen, pushed her thumb against the pen and fingers, and picked it up.

  “Again.”

  She did it a second time, and a third and a fourth, while he watched intently her every move.

  “Today I want you to start eating with that hand, and except when you’re cutting meat, with that hand only. The more you use it, the better.”

  “I didn’t have a chance to ask you last night, you came in so late. How was your trip to London? Were you successful? When you stayed a month again, I was afraid things hadn’t gone well.”

  “Let’s say I was partially successful. Terry didn’t want to come in with me because he says it’s too far from London. What he didn’t say was that he wasn’t yet sure of me again. I’ll have no trouble getting nurses; they are only too happy to leave those busy, stinking sick factories there for a nice small private hospital. What they don’t know is that they’ll work as hard here as they did there.”

  “Do you have to have another doctor come in with you?”

  “It would help. I’ve been out of touch-Tor a long time, and two and a half months isn’t going to make up for seven years.”

  “Perhaps you should go back to London and practise for a while before setting up your own hospital. Then you wouldn’t need anyone, would you?”

  “Perhaps. On the other hand, I’ve lost so much time now I hate to lose any more.”

  “The nursing school?”

  “Yes, I talked with them. The head at St. Thomas said they’d be happy to have you, provided you get enough use out of your hand. That should encourage you to work on it, shouldn’t it?” He held up his own hands, square powerful palms with long blunt fingers, and slowly flexed the fingers. “They haven’t forgotten,” he exulted. “I’m as good as I ever was.”

  “Did you think you wouldn’t be?” Lisa’s fingers squeezed rhythmically against the rubber ball.

  “I didn’t know. The first time I went, I got simple things to do, a few amputations, some easy tumor removals, things like that. This time Terry gave me some of the hard ones. There was a shattered arm that took hours to clean up. They may have to amputate later after all, but at least now the man has an outside chance of keeping it, and even of having some limited use of it. I also relieved an intradural blood clot from a horse injury much like yours. By the way, the mother and father are bringing the boy with the burned arm from Burresford tomorrow. You want to be a nurse, would you like to watch the operation? It’s a very simple one, really. His armpit and some two inches down the inside of the arm have adhered to his side.”

  Lisa wasn’t at all sure she would, but she didn’t dare say so. “Yes, I would.”

  He smiled and tilted her chin up, looking her in the eyes. “It’s not all that bad. Remember, the first one you see is the worst.”

  That afternoon Jarrell was closeted with Mrs. Lewis going over household decisions and accounts. Toby was schooling a newly purchased grey mare named Pearl for Cynthia. Eric had found her over on an estate between Dunwiddleston and Burresford and fallen in love with her because she was so beautiful. He took Lisa one day to try her, but the first jump she was put at made it apparent that she had been badly spoiled. She not only refused, but reared almost over backward.

  “It was sweet of you to think of me, Eric, but I’m really happy with Dancer, and I won’t be here forever, you know.”

  Eric looked at her sharply. “Where are you going? This is the first I’ve heard of it.”

  “I didn’t want to say anything until I was certain. If my hand is good enough, I’ll be going to nursing school in London beginning next fall.”

  Eric’s eyes narrowed. “So Mark is still at it, is he? I thought he might have forgotten about you, now that he has his precious work once more. I suppose his trips to London will last even longer come fall.”

  “For heaven’s sake, stop being so jealous, Eric. Dr. Jarrell doesn’t c
are about me. I’m one of his cases — and happy to stay that way, I might add. Why don’t you talk him into giving the mare to Cynthia? She has nice gaits, and Cynthia hasn’t the least interest in jumping. She’s afraid she might ruin her face.”

  “That’s an idea. Old Twinkle deserves a rest. I’d like to have this one around just to look at — isn’t she a beauty?”

  “Oh Eric,” Lisa laughed, “you were always a pushover for handsome women, weren’t you?”

  The mare was indeed handsome, Lisa had to admit. She had a black, muzzle, black edges to her ears, and otherwise she was a soft even grey in front with marvellous dark dappling over her rump. Her mane and tail were silver threaded with black, and she had black stockings on her slender legs that lightened into silver grey at the knee. She tossed her fine head and regarded them with alarmed dark eyes.

  In the beginning, Eric elected to work with her, but he was impatient and she was in a nervous lather before fifteen minutes were done. When pressed too hard, she had a nasty habit of rearing. Jarrell rode her once to see, as he put it, what he’d paid for. He had light hands and got on with her well, but said he vastly preferred Cleo. No one tried to jump her. Then Toby asked Lisa if he might try working with her, that it was a shame to leave her in her stall eating her head off. Jarrell said he could do what he liked with her.

  Toby spent the first week with her in her stall, even sleeping there at night. Then he rode her bareback with a light snaffle bit, going out alone for long rides where she wouldn’t have to jump and wouldn’t be upset by other horses. Eventually he put a saddle on her and walked, trotted, and cantered her over poles laid on the ground the same distance apart jumps might be set. Daily he raised the poles a bit on stones, until she was taking three-foot jumps with no hesitation. Toby showed Lisa some fine white lines on the mare’s rump that were all but hidden among the dappling. “ ’Appen summun beat ’er bad once,” he said. “Ay think she be all right now.” But Jarrell wanted him to go on working with her for a while.