The Way of All Flesh

by Ambrose Parry

  ‘No, it is not,’ he admitted. ‘May I come inside?’

  Sarah nodded, though she folded her arms and took a step back – not that there was much space to put between them in this small chamber.

  ‘Rose Campbell, the young lady who was found. You knew her, didn’t you?’

  Sarah glanced down for a moment, a darkening in her expression.

  ‘Only a little. I knew her mainly through a mutual friend, Milly Conville. We sometimes meet when we are out in the town on errands.’

  ‘She and this Milly were maids in the same house?’

  ‘Yes. I believe Mr Sheldrake has the richest dental practice in the city, his clientele drawn primarily from here in the New Town. He has a household staff to match. What of it?’

  ‘It was rumoured that Rose had run away with someone. Had you heard anything about this?’

  Sarah’s eyes narrowed. ‘Why do you wish to know?’

  ‘I am simply curious.’

  ‘Enough to venture forth into the uncharted territory of the top landing and knock on this door. That is not an idle curiosity, Mr Raven. Something else must be driving it, so you ought to do me the courtesy of disclosing what.’

  Raven had no such intention, but he had to step lightly. If she knew nothing, she would have simply told him that.

  ‘When Miss Grindlay said that she was dead, I observed that you appeared distressed by the news. I was concerned that you might be upset.’

  Sarah looked him in the eye, nodding to herself. ‘That would be most solicitous of you, Mr Raven, if it were the truth.’

  ‘It is the truth,’ he insisted. ‘I was aware you may not have anybody you could talk to about it, so I sought you out.’

  ‘I mean the whole of the truth. You have described a mere pretext. What is the real nature of your interest?’

  Raven searched for somewhere else to cast his gaze. There was but one small window, and nothing to be seen through it at night time.

  ‘It concerns matters that would not be appropriate to share with someone of your standing.’

  Sarah’s eyes flashed with anger. ‘My standing? Do you mean as a housemaid or as a woman? How little you must think of me that you would come here seeking information, but with no intention of reciprocating even if it might assist in what I could tell you.’

  Raven withstood her ire, for in it she had betrayed what he suspected.

  ‘So you do know more?’

  ‘I am answering no more questions until you answer some of mine. Such as why you have seemed so burdened these past couple of days. Is that related to your interest in poor Rose?’

  ‘No. I have merely been suffering the trials of my apprenticeship and of being new to certain duties.’

  Sarah scoffed, that scornful look putting in its first appearance. ‘I don’t believe you. If you were struggling with your duties, I would discern it in Dr Simpson’s manner. Something more specific is troubling you. Is it to do with this Evie, whose name you wrote down in your journal? Who is she?’

  Raven felt something tighten inside him, an instinct drawing him to fold his arms too.

  ‘That is absolutely no business of yours.’

  ‘Indeed it is not,’ she replied. ‘And as I have absolutely no interest in your business, I will bid you goodnight.’ She stepped past him to hold open the door. ‘Though before you go, Mr Raven, I would suggest that you might seek out my friend Milly at the Sheldrakes’ house. See if she wants to speak frankly and openly about this raw and painful loss. I can imagine no impediment. After all, you have already established such great rapport with me, so I see no reason why that should not be reprised with a complete stranger.’

  Raven got the message. He could vividly imagine how such an approach was likely to go.

  ‘Very well,’ he said. ‘Evie was a friend who lived in the Canongate, close to my former lodgings.’

  ‘Was? Lived? So she is no more?’

  He spent a moment calculating what he could disclose, attempting to anticipate the ramifications within ramifications. It was impossible. He could not tell her anything without telling her everything. If he really wanted to find out more, he would have to commit, holding nothing back.

  ‘If I am to tell you this, I must have your absolute confidence. I need to know I can trust you.’

  Sarah seemed momentarily taken aback. ‘I guarantee my discretion. Your words will not pass these walls.’

  ‘They will not have to. Your hearing it will be enough. Once I have told you what I must, you are not going to like me, Miss Fisher. That is, you are going to like me even less than you do already.’

  Sarah looked at him almost pityingly. ‘I do not dislike you, Mr Raven. You have misinterpreted. You see, I am in the household to serve, but that does not mean you may automatically command my respect or my affection; or even, though many would be satisfied with it, a pretence of either. But you can have my trust.’

  Raven saw a sincerity in her face that he had not observed before, having seldom witnessed anything other than studied neutrality, practised detachment and outright hostility.

  ‘Evie was a prostitute,’ he said quietly.

  Sarah considered this a moment. ‘One you used?’

  He sighed, battling his own resistance. ‘I had . . . knowledge of her, yes. But it was what she did, how she made her money. I did not judge her for—’

  ‘One you used,’ she repeated. Her tone was not bitter, but it was insistent and inescapable.

  Raven felt the shame of it now, of what he had done, of the vulnerability he had exploited. The lies he once told himself about the nature of it were now crumbling.

  ‘Yes,’ he admitted. ‘I was younger then, curious. Tempted. She seemed far above me, something unknowable and forbidden – and yet attainable. I was troubled then, given to bouts of . . . abandon. But yes, I used her. At first. Then we became friends.’

  ‘Close friends? Or merely a prostitute and a former client who might yet be a client again?’

  ‘I thought we were close friends, but I accept now that I will never know. When you lead a life such as Evie did, you cannot afford the luxury of trust, or of becoming close to anybody, though you may become adept at feigning it.’

  Raven paused, picturing Evie how she once was, wondering whether her friendship was as illusory as her bedroom intimacies.

  ‘She asked me for money,’ he said. ‘She wouldn’t say why, only that her need was urgent. I gave her it. Then I visited her on the night before I came to live here, hoping to hear that her troubles were dealt with. Instead I found her . . . no more, her body twisted in agonised contortions. When I glimpsed Rose Campbell lying upon the quayside, she was in a similar condition.’

  ‘Did you tell anyone what you had found? Or about this similarity?’

  ‘I could not. On the night I found Evie, I had to leave unseen, lest anyone thought I was responsible for what happened to her.’

  Sarah’s reaction mirrored everything he felt about it himself.

  ‘Oh, I think it would only be fair to conclude that you were not responsible.’

  ‘I am not proud of what I did, but I panicked. What if I was thought a murderer?’

  ‘So you believe she was killed?’

  ‘I suspect she was poisoned, yes. And it is possible Rose was too, by the same means if not by the same hand.’

  ‘Was any investigation prompted by Evie’s discovery?’

  ‘No. It was assumed she had died from alcohol.’

  ‘Even though she was found as you describe?’

  ‘Nobody looks closely when it’s “another deid hoor”, as I heard a policeman call her.’

  ‘Rose was no hoor. They will investigate her, surely. You must tell McLevy what you know.’

  As soon as the words had fallen from her mouth, it was clear Sarah understood how this could not be so.

  ‘Except that you cannot, in case he thinks you were involved,’ she stated.

  ‘They say McLevy always gets his man, but liv
ing in the Old Town, I heard it different. Over there, they say he gets a man, then doesn’t worry so much about whether it is the right one as long as the story fits and the jury convicts.’

  Raven swallowed, looking her in the eye. ‘I want to find out what happened to Evie, which is why I want to know more about Rose. Will you help me?’

  Sarah returned his look, contemplating, evaluating. She appeared to arrive at a verdict.

  ‘My assistance comes at a price, Mr Raven.’

  ‘As you so accurately deduced, I have very little money.’

  ‘Not that kind of price. I would ask the same thing you asked of me. Trust. You will keep nothing from me, and in this endeavour you will at all times treat me as your equal.’

  ‘I give you my word. It is agreed then?’

  ‘Not yet. Those were merely my conditions. The price I will tell you when I am good and ready.’

  Twenty-Four

  Sarah found herself repeatedly falling into step a few paces behind Raven as they made their way along the Cowgate. A pattern had emerged whereby Raven would slow down in response, only for her to drift into the rear again soon after. Eventually he stopped dead and turned to her with a querulous expression.

  ‘Why are you dawdling? Are you trying to make us late?’

  It took his saying this for her to understand what she was doing. She had an impulse to apologise but she swallowed it.

  ‘I was not dawdling,’ she replied. ‘I am more used to accompanying Miss Grindlay or occasionally Mrs Simpson, servants not being expected or indeed permitted to walk alongside their employers. It is a matter of habit rather than a reflection of your perceived status,’ she added.

  Raven’s ignorance of the everyday practicalities of her station was proving a source of frustration to himself and of teeth-grating irritation to Sarah. In the ensuing couple of days following their late-night discussion, he kept appearing in the kitchen or intercepting her in hallways with the same question.

  ‘Have you had opportunity?’ he would ask.

  After a good half-dozen replies in the negative, she laid it out for him.

  ‘My duties do not allow much time for social visits; certainly not during hours that are safe or appropriate for a young woman to be out upon the streets. Besides, it is not as though I can simply knock upon the Sheldrakes’ kitchen door and start asking questions. It would be best if it appeared a casual encounter.’

  ‘You said you know this girl. When do you normally see her?’

  ‘My opportunities to converse with Milly in the past have generally been in the gift of happenstance. As I said before, we would sometimes meet when we were both on errands, such as to the haberdasher’s or occasionally Duncan and Flockhart.’

  ‘You were out in the town only today,’ he pointed out.

  ‘I was with Miss Grindlay,’ she responded.

  Raven looked exasperated. ‘Then the Lord knows how long I might be waiting.’

  Sarah was about to give him a broadside by explaining that the only free time she got was on Sundays, when she realised that she knew precisely where and when she would find Milly and indeed the entire Sheldrake household.

  ‘You will be waiting until the Lord’s day,’ she said. ‘I can speak to Milly after Sunday worship.’

  ‘The Sheldrakes attend the same church as we do?’

  ‘No,’ she confessed, immediately seeing where her plan would fall down. The Simpson household all had to attend Sunday worship together at St John’s, Dr Simpson favouring Thomas Guthrie’s sermons above all others. Milly would be in attendance elsewhere. ‘Though perhaps you could suggest to Dr Simpson you have heard that the minister in a particular church is an interesting speaker and that we are both curious to find out his perspective upon certain matters.’

  Raven had looked less than hopeful in response to this notion. They both knew it would sound an odd and unlikely thing to suggest to the professor.

  ‘Do you even know the name of this minister whose church the Sheldrakes attend?’

  ‘I only know his name,’ Sarah admitted. ‘Not where his church is. He is the Reverend Malachy Grissom.’

  At this, Raven’s eyes bulged. ‘You know, I think we just might be able to convince Dr Simpson of my curiosity after all.’

  It was for this reason that they were now walking along the Cowgate, Raven having discovered the location they sought. It was a bright, if cold, Sunday morning and yet he seemed to be permanently looking about himself, as though wandering here in the dead of night. This state of anxious vigilance was perhaps why he was so irritated at having to slow down for her.

  ‘What are you looking for?’ she asked. ‘Anyone would think you were avoiding someone.’

  ‘I am. Some former acquaintances with whom I’d rather not be reunited.’

  ‘Why not? Who are they?’

  ‘They don’t concern you, for which you ought to be grateful.’

  ‘I thought we agreed you would keep nothing from me.’

  ‘Only in matters pertaining to this endeavour.’

  ‘And how am I to know you are telling the truth regarding what matters do or don’t pertain to it?’

  ‘I was attacked and I had my face slashed, remember? I am apprehensive of running into the culprits again.’

  ‘But why did they do it? Don’t say you were robbed at random, because I don’t believe you.’

  Raven sighed. ‘Because I owe them money, and I don’t have it. Is that clear enough for you?’

  It was not. Sarah had plenty more she might ask, not least why he owed them money, but she knew when to leave well alone.

  Sarah had been speaking the truth when she said she didn’t dislike him, but she did dislike his presumption of superiority over her, as she disliked it in all young men. Given the same chance, she was confident she would excel over any of them, so it stung when all they saw was a housemaid. Out of necessity, Raven was looking beyond that. Or at least she was offering him the occasion to. She hoped he didn’t disappoint.

  ‘Why were you so confident that Dr Simpson would sanction this absence from our normal Sunday worship?’ she asked as they passed beneath George IV Bridge.

  ‘The Reverend Grissom has been campaigning against the use of ether in childbirth. He has been distributing pamphlets about it all over the city.’

  ‘Why on earth would he want to do that?’

  ‘Not why on earth. Why in heaven. There is a Bible verse stating that “in sorrow thou shalt bring forth children”. He believes that the pain of childbirth is in some way sacred.’

  ‘What arrant stupidity. And we are to listen to this man?’

  ‘I anticipated that Dr Simpson would be curious – or at least amused – to know what else he might have to say. The Bible also states that when you are committing a charitable act, the right hand should not know what the left hand is doing. Given that surgery could be described as a charitable act, perhaps the Reverend might suggest the surgeon be blindfolded, or have one hand tied behind his back out of sight.’

  Raven found this notion more amusing than Sarah, but that was because he was missing something rather obvious.

  ‘He would suggest no such thing, for I doubt it a coincidence that he has chosen to object to the relief of a pain he is certain never to endure. If Grissom had a dose of the toothache, I can’t imagine him finding a theological justification why Mr Sheldrake should not use ether in his dental extractions.’

  Raven indicated that the place they sought was just ahead, its congregation already filing through a set of doors on the south side of the Cowgate. It appeared to be a modest meeting hall, and not a church as anyone might ordinarily recognise one.

  ‘I expected somewhere grander,’ Sarah admitted.

  ‘Not all ministers of the Free Church were as fortunate as the Reverend Guthrie in retaining their premises following the Disruption,’ Raven told her. ‘Many have had to make do with whatever halls and meeting places can be found.’

  Sarah had heard menti
on of the Disruption, but paid little attention to matters involving pious old men bickering with each other. As she understood it, the schism had come down to the right of patronage, which allowed the state and wealthy landowners to appoint a minister to a parish over and above the wishes of the parishioners. Those who broke with the main Church four years ago had consequently needed to form their own ministries, with the support of those in the laity who wished to follow them. Hence the ad-hoc nature of this place of worship.

  She and Raven slipped inside, taking their seats towards the back. Sarah had seldom found churches to be joyful or inspiring places, but this one seemed particularly drab, and yet very well attended. A few minutes later, she watched the Sheldrake household file in close to the front, their position perhaps reflecting the dentist’s contributions to the new parish’s coffers. Mr Sheldrake walked in at the head of the line, his wife, son and two daughters taking their seats alongside him as Milly and the rest of the household staff slipped into the row behind.

  Sheldrake struck Sarah as an unlikely match for his dowdy and grim-faced wife. He was a tall, smartly dressed fellow, slim of build and clean-shaven. In the same way that it was said of certain women that they were handsome, Sheldrake could be said to be pretty: a feminine quality not only to his features, but also in the way he carried himself. His clothes were modern and fashionable to the point that there seemed something incongruously rakish about him, though perhaps any note of finery seemed out of place in this dour setting.

  She glimpsed Milly momentarily between the rows of heads. She looked numb and shocked, trying to suppress tears. Milly would have known for some days about Rose’s death, but Sarah understood from experience that being back in a familiar place for the first time could serve to bring it all home, another reminder of death’s finality.

  The room fell silent as the Reverend Grissom entered and took his place behind the lectern that served as his pulpit. He was a small man with the proud gait of one who believed himself to be at least a foot taller. Fine grey hair hung lank around his crown as though draped from a circular pelmet, his pate bald but for a few wispy tufts that Sarah felt the constant urge to ascend the stage and shave. Beneath it his face was dominated by a nose so large and pointed that when he turned his head it was as though he were indicating the direction in which he imminently intended to leave.