The Butchered Man

by Harriet Smart

  “It isn’t at all clear. It’s a strange case.”

  “You must tell me everything.”

  “I think not,” said Giles. “You’ll only print it.”

  “Ach, it was worth a try,” said O’Brien with a smile. “Perhaps in a day or two, you might favour me with something? A murderer at large in the city – it’s in the public interest to know that.”

  “I don’t think it would serve anyone’s interest at the moment for the town to be whipped up into a state of unnecessary panic.”

  “Now, be fair, how would one little report in my humble rag do that?”

  “Because you will use wildly intemperate language. The Northminster Fiend or some such nonsense.”

  “Oh, that’s very good, Major, very good indeed! You’ve missed your trade. I must make a note of that.”

  “I am not joking about this, O’Brien,” Giles said. “The circumstances of this man’s death are deeply disturbing, and presented to the general public, without any solid explanatory facts, it will cause a panic. Half the ladies up in the Minster Precincts are already convinced that the chartists are going to butcher them.”

  “They don’t read the Bugle, surely?”

  “They do. They confiscate it from their maids and then devour it.”

  “But your Minster ladies, Major, they are not all of Northminster and though it is chivalrous of you to want to protect them from the unpleasant facts of life, such as the existence of a murderer among them –”

  “They form opinion,” said Giles, cutting in. “Just as the Guild of the City form opinion.”

  “You don’t believe ordinary people can think for themselves?”

  “Your paper forms opinion. Why would you publish it, if it did not?”

  “I just supply information.”

  “Information that is coloured with opinion. Luridly coloured.”

  “You’d ban a free press if you could,” said O’Brien. “You old Tory.”

  “I want a responsible press,” said Giles, “and I am asking you to be responsible over this matter. At least in the first instance.”

  “You mean, say nothing? You cannot expect me to say nothing, not now you have told me we have a dead clergyman – and a man like Rhodes, to boot.”

  “All right,” said Giles, considering for a long moment, “say something if you must, but say it quietly, temperately. You never know, it might serve the investigation in some way. It might prick someone’s conscience.”

  “If you want to do that, we should demonize him,” said O’Brien. “Put the fear of God into him as well.”

  “I think this person might be beyond the fear of God,” said Giles.

  “Then the Fiend of Northminster it is,” said O’Brien and then wagged his finger at Giles. “Ah, I had you for a moment there, didn’t I? Don’t worry, I shan’t do that. I shall be responsible, just as you ask. How about a sober appeal for information? The Bugle as the staunch supporter of public order and the Constabulary?”

  “That would certainly unsettle the City Fathers,” said Giles with a smile.

  “Exactly,” said O’Brien, taking up a pen. “So, what shall we say, then?”

  Chapter Fifteen

  Felix had made a little progress in unpacking and setting up the necessary apparatus for his tests, when he realised that the light was dwindling and he ought to get over to Brinklow and check on his patient.

  As he rode out, the day that had promised well turned foul, like a pretty woman losing her temper. Icy rain swept the countryside and lashed him and the black mare in peevish gusts so that Felix was sodden and ill-tempered himself by the time he reached the House of Mercy.

  He rode the black mare around to the back entrance, hoping to find a stable for her and perhaps a friendly groom to care for her in the manner to which she was no doubt accustomed. However, there was no-one in sight in the yard, so he tied her up under a covered arcade which looked as though it was usually used for drying the linen, and hoped she would forgive him for it.

  He noticed an open door, went through to it, and found himself in the scullery. A tiny girl was standing on a duckboard, washing up an enormous pile of crocks with such noisy vigour that she did not notice him come in.

  “Hello?” he said.

  She started violently and the dish in her hand went flying into the sink with a loud clatter. She looked round at him, staring at him with wide eyes. He tried his best disarming smile.

  “Sorry. I’m the surgeon. I’ve come to see Abigail Prior. I hope I didn’t make you break anything.”

  She grabbed the soup plate. It was still intact. Carefully she mopped it and put it on the wooden rack above her. She was so small she had to stretch a long way to do it. It looked a thankless task.

  “Can you show me the way to her room?” he asked. “If you can spare a minute?”

  She looked dubiously at the pile of plates and then at him. Then she nodded and began to wipe her hands on her apron.

  “This way, sir,” she said, in a voice as tiny as her frame. He wondered how old she was. She had the body of a child but her face and eyes were tired, those of a woman who had seen far too much of the world.

  He followed her from the scullery along a long passageway and up an iron-railed set of backstairs, painted a sickly, shiny green, which opened out onto the long tiled corridor he recognized from the morning.

  “Third door, sir,” she said.

  “Thank you.”

  He was about to pass by her and go on, but suddenly she touched him very lightly on the arm, a tiny bird-like touch, full of timidity.

  “Sir,” she said. “There’s something...” She broke off.

  He turned back to her and looked down at her. She had retreated into the shadow at the corner of the landing.

  “Yes, what is it?”

  “Abigail, about Abigail. I shouldn’t say, but I think I ought. I think they gave her something.”

  “Gave her something?” said Felix, stepping into the shadows with her. “What do you mean, precisely?”

  “To rid her of it,” she said.

  “To make her lose the baby?” She nodded vigorously then and looked around her nervously. “Are you sure?”

  “She told me, Abigail did, that old Fulwood give her something to make it go away.”

  “Has this happened before?” Felix said.

  “Maybe. Not sure. Oh, but please don’t say I said anything sir, please. I just thought I ought to say, since you were the surgeon. It might help you. Abigail’s so sick and she’s my friend. She’s not going to die of this, is she, sir?”

  “Not if I can help it,” said Felix. “Come on, now, won’t you take me to her? Seeing you will cheer her up if you are her friend.”

  “I can’t, I’m not allowed,” she said, in an agonized whisper. I’m not supposed to leave my work.”

  “Doctor’s orders. I’ll square it for you with them,” he said, taking her hand. “Now, which door was it?”

  He knocked and went in, expecting to find the nurse in attendance. To his horror he found Abigail all alone, and a moment’s examination revealed that her condition had deteriorated since that morning. Although the bleeding seemed to have abated a little, her fever was still raging and she was in considerable pain.

  But at least she recognised him and managed a wan smile.

  “Not you again...” she said, her voice faint and cracked. “What you going to do to me this time?”

  “Nothing, I promise, except make you a little more comfortable if I can. I’ve brought you a friend. She’ll look after you.”

  “Hello, Abigail.”

  “Oh, Lizzy...” Abigail reached out for her friend’s hands and grabbed them. “Nice cold hands.” Lizzy pressed her hands to Abigail’s cheeks. “Oh, that’s nice...”

  “Here, Lizzy,” he said, handing the girl a cloth wrung out in cold water. “Cool her down properly. And who the devil shut the window?” He opened the window and let a violent gust of wind into the room which b
anged the door. “I wonder how long they’ve left you alone, Abigail?”

  “Hours and hours,” said Abigail in a sing-song voice. “I was crying for someone to come, I think... hurt my throat I did.”

  “Shush now,” said Lizzy.

  Felix felt his temper slipping away as he imagined the grim-faced nurse of the morning dining well and then falling asleep somewhere, forgetting about her charge. “I’m going to find Miss Hilliard,” he said.

  He ran along the corridor and down the main staircase. He found his way back to the office where he had been taken that morning, but she was not there.

  So he tried the doors nearby and burst into a large classroom where the girls sat with their heads bent over their sewing while Miss Hilliard stood in the centre reading aloud.

  “Mr Carswell?” she said, breaking off at the sight of him. “May I help you?”

  “You must come at once,” he said.

  “I will be with you directly,” she said.

  He fumed in the passageway for a moment or two while she gave directions to her class.

  “Of course, if I had known you were here, I should have received you myself,” she said on joining him.

  “I came in the back way. I left my horse in the yard and one of the girls took me up to her. Miss Hilliard, she is in a very bad way. She has been left quite alone – for hours she said. What was that woman thinking of? I told you she would need constant attendance.”

  They began to climb the stairs.

  “I am sure Mrs Fulwood only left her for a few moments.”

  “I think not. Abigail said she was crying out for someone to come to her. She has been badly neglected.”

  “Mr Carswell, these girls often exaggerate, particularly when they are with a member of the opposite sex. It is a relic of their former lives, which I endeavour to correct in them, but old habits die hard. Abigail...”

  “Abigail is in no position to lie or manipulate. If she was crying out, she was crying out. And the evidence was plain enough, even if she had not said a word!”

  “Mr Carswell, will you please calm yourself? I am sure this is all a misunderstanding.”

  They were at the door to the room now and Miss Hilliard sailed in.

  He saw Lizzy retreat from the bedside. She dropped a curtsey.

  “Eliza, will you please get back to your work,” Miss Hilliard said.

  “I think she is working well enough here,” said Felix. “A friend is often the best nurse we can have.”

  “Mrs Fulwood is nursing Abigail. Eliza has other duties. I will not have my rules upset. It is most important in this work that rules are not upset.”

  “With respect, ma’am,” Felix said, “the care of this girl must take priority over that. Abigail needs a friend with her. Stay where you are, Lizzy. You’re doing a fine job.”

  “I think you overstep the mark of what it is proper for a physician to prescribe, Mr Carswell. It is a sign of your inexperience, no doubt,” Miss Hilliard said. “Go and fetch Mrs Fulwood, Eliza, and then return to your work.”

  “Yes, ma’am,” said Eliza, and left. Felix saw the disappointment on Abigail’s face, and felt his irritation bubbling up again. But knowing he had to concede at least for the moment, he began to distract himself by mixing up some more tincture of opium for Abigail.

  “Since I have no other nurse to hand now, perhaps I can ask you to attend to our patient’s linen, ma’am? I think the bed should be changed and her shift.” At least he had the satisfaction of making her perform a lowly task. In the circumstances, she could not refuse him that. “Sooner rather than later, if you please,” he added.

  “Very well, Mr Carswell,” she said. “I will fetch some linen. I should point out though I do not like to leave you unchaperoned. I do it from necessity.”

  “Then you should not have sent the girl away,” Felix managed to say.

  “There are plenty of other doctors in Northminster, Mr Carswell,” Miss Hilliard said as she went to the door. “I would watch your tone.”

  “There, Abigail, I told her, didn’t I?” said Felix, once Miss Hilliard had left. He helped her up into his arms and she managed a slight smile, but she was exhausted. Her face was sticky with sweat and tears from crying. He felt ashamed of himself, as if he had forgotten her and her distress. She took a little spoonful of the tincture but she had difficulty taking it.

  “Did you get that beef tea I ordered for you, I wonder?” he asked, but she had slipped into delirium. She lay there twitching with the fever in his arms, resting against him, her head on her chest, and he did his best to cool her, slaking her cheeks and neck with cold water. There was little else he could do, and it angered him. She was on a knife edge between a successful and an unsuccessful result, and it was not in his power to decide which way it went. In these cases so much depended on the constitution of the patient, and their own will to live. This girl, poor creature, had nothing much to bother living for. She was little better than a prisoner in this place – and a prison was what it was, for all its veneer of humanity.

  But as he did so, he felt the boundary between doctor and patient dissolve. He looked at her wrecked beauty and saw not the wreckage but a woman he admired. He found he wanted her to live for his own sake, so that he might look on her when she was well and see her smile. He had sensed her spirit earlier that day and he could not bear that it should slip away now.

  Mrs Fulwood came in with the clean linen and another girl to assist her. Of Miss Hilliard there was no sign.

  “Where is your mistress?” Felix demanded as the woman stood there, holding the square of white bed linen against her, like a breastplate.

  “She asks you to wait on her downstairs when you are done here,” Mrs Fulwood said in the tone of one very accustomed to giving out orders and having them unflinchingly obeyed.

  “Does she now?” Felix said, provoked by her insolent manner. “Then she will wait a long time. Get this bed changed!”

  He stood up and scooped Abigail into his arms so that the sheets could be changed. She was no great burden being scarcely more than a bag of bones, and Felix wondered if she had been very sick in the first few months of the pregnancy to lose so much weight. As he held her, she clung to him, her arms like serpent coils about his neck, her matted hair wild in his face. And he held her with equal fervour, finding himself full of dreadful impulses: he wanted to dash from the room with her, to take her somewhere safe, somewhere other, even though that would surely kill her. But how could he surrender her to this apparently merciless woman? He resolved to stay all night if necessary and Miss Hilliard could damn well wait on him.

  ***

  But she did not come, and, his patience exhausted, he decided he would find her for himself. He left Abigail in a slightly better condition but he was still nervous for her and his anger had not abated. He went down the passageway with a determined step, rehearsing his speeches, only to meet the lady at the top of the stairs. She looked demurely up at him and said, “I was coming to find you. I have decided I will nurse her myself from now – will that satisfy you, Mr Carswell?”

  “Yes, but –” Felix began.

  “But I am afraid I cannot allow you attend here again. I have written to Dr Woodcroft – he is our regular physician. It will be his case from now on.”

  “On what grounds?”

  “You told me yourself that the danger was past and that she is stable now. I can see no reason for your remaining here. It is highly improper for you to remain here any longer than is necessary. You have already stayed too long.”

  “How is it improper for me to care for my patient? There is no impropriety in anything I have done, ma’am.”

  “I must disagree. In the first place, you are a young unmarried man and I cannot tolerate such a person under this roof for any longer than is strictly necessary. Even if that were not the case, you have already shown me you are not to be trusted.”

  “Not to be trusted?” said Felix. “In what way?”

&nb
sp; “You did not do me the courtesy of waiting on me when you first arrived. You came in unannounced, and distracted one of my girls from her work, and behaved in a most familiar manner with her. I work hard to keep my girls secluded from the snares of the world, the snares that have brought them here in the first place. The girls are not allowed to talk to men unless they have my express permission.”

  “Do you think I mean to prey on these poor creatures?” he burst out. “Do you think I am that sort of man?”

  “I cannot take the risk. You may be a libertine. I do not know you, Mr Carswell, but I know my girls and they are full of bad habits. They are easily led astray. Therefore I think it is better that you do not attend here again.”

  “You cannot mean that?”

  “I am quite serious.”

  “I have a duty to my patient. You cannot forbid me to see her.”

  “And I have a duty to these girls. I will not compromise that. Dr Woodcroft will take over the case. Abigail will be well looked after. As I said, I will nurse her myself now. You may rest easy,” she added in a mollifying tone, which was somehow more infuriating than everything else she had said. “And now I think you had better take your leave, Mr Carswell.”

  He did not move but stood there, twitching with annoyance.

  “I see you want to rail against me,” she said. “That is understandable. You are young. I know what young people are like, how ungovernable their tempers can be. But I think you are an intelligent young man. You will come to understand that you have acted improperly, and you will regret your actions here. You will come to be thankful to God for offering you such a lesson.”

  “I think we will have to agree to differ on that one,” said Felix snatching up his hat and bag. “Good day to you, ma’am!”

  ***

  He was crossing the hall, when he felt someone catching his arm. He turned and saw Lizzy. She at once dragged him off into a secluded corner.

  “What I said to you earlier –” she said in a terrified whisper.

  “About getting rid of the child?”

  “I was wrong,” she said. “Just forget I said it. Please.”