“Members of the gentry pay constables to stay clear,” said Mr. Douglas. “And the bouts are held on private land.”
“Peers are willing to bribe the law? But why? Who would want ruffians from all over to congregate on their property?” I wondered. “It seems like they are taking a huge risk.”
“They are, but the reward is worth it,” said Edward.
“Many lords of the realm sponsor the boxers, owning and promoting them just as they might own a racehorse,” explained Mr. Douglas.
“But we’re talking about human beings!” I protested.
“Yes, and men have owned other men for centuries. That’s how the pyramids were built,” Edward reminded me.
It was gone eight when Mr. Lerner and Mr. Carter arrived. Mr. Douglas instructed Higgins to bring the men into the library, since Lucy’s large desk could be used for note taking if necessary. After our visitors had said their hellos, the ever-efficient butler offered to relieve the young doctor of his satchel. Once again, I noticed how the papers threatened to spill out of it. This time, a glance told me the reason why: The latch was broken.
“No, thank you,” said Lerner, holding the leather bag as if it were his most precious possession. “I keep all my important notes in it,” he explained. Although his method did not inspire confidence, Higgins took the man at his word.
“Higgins, can you scare up a bottle of brandy? Perhaps some port for my wife?” asked Edward.
I excused myself long enough to check on Ned and Adèle as they prepared for bed. Ned wanted to cling to me, a new habit of late, but I gently transferred him to Amelia’s welcome arms. Adèle stumbled over a few words as she read a portion from the Bible in English, but I praised her effort anyway and tucked her in. I looked in on Lucy, as well, and found her sound asleep with Rags curled in the crook of her legs.
In the library, Higgins poured brandy for the men, and a small glass of port for me, as Mr. Lerner watched Edward pack the medicinal herb in his pipe.
I thought back to Lady Grainger and her kindness toward the seamstress. There was a lesson there that I could happily absorb. “Mr. Carter and Mr. Lerner? Have you had your tea?”
“Yes, thank you, Mrs. Rochester,” said Mr. Carter. “I ate at a pub near the inn where I’m staying.”
But Lerner was slower to answer. “Um, no. No, ma’am. I usually only eat but once a day.”
I did not press him for the reason why. His clothing showed signs of excessive wear. When he crossed his legs, I saw the soles of his boots were worn through. Excusing myself, I went downstairs to the kitchen and asked Cook if she might prepare a tray with a selection of sliced meats, leftover aspic, cheeses, and fresh bread.
Back in the library, Mr. Douglas was querying Mr. Lerner about his method for proving that Lady Ingram’s coffee cup had held poison. His questions were interrupted by a knocking on the door. In short order, Higgins returned with a highly agitated Mr. Waverly.
“So, Lerner, you ran here to hide. Well, I have a bone to pick with you. Tried to pull the wool over my eyes,” he said, yanking at his waistcoat.
Mr. Carter puckered his brow. “This young man did nothing of the sort. I’ve been with him all day, and we are here to keep a standing appointment with Squire Rochester.”
“Mr. Waverly? May I introduce you to my doctor and longtime friend, Mr. Carter?” Edward said. “Carter, this is the man from Bow Street whom we all admire so much.”
My husband’s compliment flummoxed Mr. Waverly, as it is terribly hard to maintain ruffled feathers when one is being praised.
Sadie carried in the tray. I watched Mr. Waverly’s eyes follow the food. So did the parlor maid, who set down the repast and then whispered to me, “I’ll bring more right up.”
“Have a seat, Mr. Waverly, your charges can wait a moment,” said Edward. “Help yourself to the food.”
“Brandy?” asked Mr. Douglas, offering a glass to the man from Bow Street. Mr. Carter passed the decanter to Lucy’s brother.
“I, er . . .” Mr. Waverly seemed flummoxed as he stared at the liquid. At last, he answered, “No, thank you, but I would be grateful for even a thimbleful of that whiskey. The one we had the other night?”
“Of course.” Mr. Douglas rang Higgins and asked that a bottle of the spirits be brought up from the cellar. “Now, you were in the midst of calling Mr. Lerner and Mr. Rochester ‘two of a kind,’ I believe. Care to pick up where you left off?”
At last Mr. Waverly slumped down into a chair. His glasses rested crookedly on his face, and his boots—always polished to a fine shine—were scuffed and dull. “In all of your visits to me, neither of you happened to mention this group that Mr. Lerner’s a member of. Completely slipped your minds, didn’t it? So then Miss Mary Ingram stomps into the magistrate’s office—apparently, she wasn’t satisfied with our response to her last visit, since I didn’t arrest the doctor, so she went on and on rehashing her accusations about Mr. Lerner and his character, saying how he poisoned her mother and I’m caught completely off-balance. My supervisor had a go at me. He cuffed my ears. Well, verbally at least.”
I thought to myself, Of course she’s striking out. Blanche now blames Mary for the loss of their fortune! And without their mother to intercede, Mary is on the receiving end of all of Blanche’s fury!
Edward looked amused. “You mean you didn’t realize Mr. Lerner was a Jew?”
But a quick glance at Mr. Lerner affirmed that he was not laughing. No, he was terrified. The blood was draining slowly from his face. As I watched, he looked over at Mr. Carter, and the older doctor turned pale, too. I thought this a curious reaction, indeed.
“You know very well what I’m talking about, Mr. Rochester. You’ve got my head in a vice, and I’m not happy about it. I trusted you when you vouched for this man’s character. Now Miss Mary has made it clear that she has no compunctions about taking this up with the bishop. None. She’s more than willing to keep talking to anyone who might listen.”
“The bishop?” Mr. Douglas leaned forward in his chair, so that his elbows were on his knees. “Because Rochester is hiring a Jew, she thinks the bishop will interfere? Hasn’t he got better things to do, such as memorize his portion for the coronation?”
Again, I looked quickly at the two doctors. Both wore a sheen of perspiration on their foreheads. Mr. Lerner sat with shoulders stooped and his head bowed, while his older mentor emptied the contents of his glass.
“Tell him, Lerner,” said Mr. Carter.
What on earth was this all about?
“It’s true,” said Lerner. “I don’t know how she found me out, but it’s true. I am a Lunartick.”
Chapter 43
“A lunatic, you say?” Edward looked as confused as I felt.
“A Lunartick. I am a member of a scientific community called the Lunar Society that meets once a month during a full moon, hence our name from the Latin word ‘luna.’ The timing of our meetings became important because early members gathered in Birmingham, and on the road to the meetings they found themselves set upon by highwaymen who stole their purses. When traveling by the light of a full moon, such misadventures were less likely to happen.”
“A sensible precaution, but still . . .” mused Mr. Waverly.
“And you keep this a secret because your members fear being robbed?” Edward rubbed his jaw thoughtfully as he tried to make sense of this.
“No, Mr. Rochester. It’s more complicated than that,” said Mr. Lerner with a sigh.
“The Lunar Society began in 1765 when a group of like-minded individuals gathered to discuss ideas. Over the years, the membership has grown. On occasion, it has also shrunk when arguments occurred and men disagreed about funda-
mental principles or methods. But the meetings have long offered a time and place for men of science to put forth, discuss, and defend their ideas.”
“Why would
the members want to hide that?” I wondered.
A surprised Mr. Carter turned and stared at me.
“There are those in the Church of England who think science is blasphemous,” explained Mr. Lerner. “They see it as a wrongheaded attempt to question what should be accepted on faith. In the past, members of the clergy have threatened to have Lunarticks rounded up and burned as heretics. As a matter of prudence, it was decided that we should continue our discussions in secrecy. Regrettably, to some, any attempt to understand the secrets of the Universe is an affront to our Creator. Rather than rely on scientific advancement, they counsel that all of men’s woes can be solved with prayer.”
“Considering the level of risk you are describing, you must value this group very highly. Otherwise, it might be more expedient not to belong,” said my husband.
“I do value it,” said Lerner. “That is why I agreed to serve as the recording secretary. I have learned a great deal, most importantly, how to think critically so I can make good decisions. As members, we seek to further our knowledge by sharing what we learn in our areas of specialty. For example, one of our number is working on a way to capture light on paper to make a permanent image. Two members are working together to make steam-powered engines even more efficient.”
“But why do these engineering advances interest a man of medicine, such as yourself?” Edward mused. I could see that this captured my husband’s imagination, but as he is a very practical man, he also wondered what benefits were accrued.
“Oh, there are many applications! Others are also involved in the field of health, and one of our colleagues has since catalogued many helpful plants with curative powers. Another is working on an instrument that can increase magnification hundreds of times. He theorizes that tiny organisms invade open wounds and cause sickness.” Mr. Lerner talked faster and faster as he became more excited about these ideas. His energy was contagious.
“Did you learn about the efficacy of rose hips from your friends in this society?” I asked.
“No, that I learned from Miss Goldstein. Her father was also a doctor, and he shared much of his hard-won knowledge with her. She is exceptional. She speaks seven languages: English, of course, but also Hebrew, Greek, Latin, Italian, French, and German. Her knowledge of botany, mathematics, and healing would be put to good use with your tenants.”
“But you did not tell me all of this,” said Mr. Waverly. His voice quivered with indignation. “As a result, I could not defend you properly. Miss Mary pleaded with the magistrate for us to lock you up. She suggested your religion drove you to want to harm good Christians.”
“Rubbish,” said Mr. Carter. “She knows better.”
“Is that why you are here, Mr. Waverly? To arrest Mr. Lerner?” I was happy for Mr. Carter’s loyalty, but still worried about the reason for Mr. Waverly’s visit.
“If I were going to arrest Mr. Lerner, I would not have wasted time explaining myself,” said Mr. Waverly. “No, I came to satisfy myself that I had not been hoodwinked. I do not like to play the part of the fool!”
I found myself marveling at Mary Ingram’s tenacity—and her boldness. Earlier this morning, I had felt sorry for her, thinking how forlorn she looked. I would never have guessed that she could have gathered herself up and visited the Bow Street Runners.
She must have hailed a hackney, as she had threatened to do when in Hyde Park with Mr. Lerner, and traveled to Bow Street all alone. Undeterred by her grief, she had found the strength to complain about her errant suitor. And to what end? Did she truly think she could change his mind?
No, she had wanted to punish him.
It struck me as terribly sad that this young woman could be so vengeful that she would want to strike back and harm the man she professed to love, simply because he did not love her in return. How on earth had both of Lady Ingram’s daughters come to believe that self-interest should trump all other concerns?
Mr. Carter shook his head slowly. “I believe I can prevent Miss Mary from taking her concerns to the bishop.”
We all stared at him expectantly. Finally, Mr. Douglas said, “You have a suggestion for countering Miss Ingram’s charges?”
“Not a suggestion. A revelation. I, too, am a member of the Lunar Society. If Mary Ingram insists on persecuting us, the entire county will be without a doctor.”
Both Mr. Douglas and my husband raised their eyebrows at this admission. Waverly shook his head and huffed softly, as if to say, “More lives ruined.”
However, I realized the courage it had taken for Mr. Carter to admit this, and the resilience that Mr. Lerner had shown in not betraying his friend. But before I could congratulate either of them, my husband said, “And you believe this will dissuade her? Because so far neither Mary nor her sister has proven herself amenable to reason.”
“Yes,” said Mr. Carter. “I know my admission will. You see, Lord Ingram stays at home for many reasons, not the least of which is that he has a hemorrhagic disposition, meaning that he bleeds easily, at the slightest blow or injury. It is a condition both extremely painful and dangerous. I am called to Ingram Park frequently to care for him. Have done for years. I shall leave here directly and point out to Miss Mary that if she continues with this folly, there will be no one available to help her beloved brother when he is suffering,” he said. “Now, since I have another visit to make yet tonight, shall we discuss the particulars of Mr. Lerner’s employment?”
Chapter 44
The next day was Sunday, and all of us, except the servants, slept late. After checking on the children, I went downstairs for breakfast where I found my hostess staring at a note.
“Lucy?” I went to her side.
She sighed and began to rip the letter into shreds. “A street urchin brought this. From Blanche Ingram.”
“What did the letter say?”
“She suggested that I speak to Lady Grainger and convince my friend to address this grievous error in her will.” Lucy went to the hearth and fed the paper to the coals.
“Is that all?” I measured loose tea into the pot.
“Not entirely.” My friend took her seat at the head of the table. “Care for butter? My! Those crumpets smell wonderful! Oh, and the candied ginger scones are still warm.”
“While I share your desire for a pleasant morning, it will do you no good to keep this a secret. I believe I’m in too deep to ignore the repercussions of any threats lobbed by Miss Ingram.”
Lucy set down the tea caddy. She did not look at me when she said, “You are too intelligent for me to trick, and strong enough that I need not struggle to protect you. Blanche Ingram was not specific. She concluded with a vague ‘you’ll be sorry.’”
“How unoriginal.”
“It was her postscript that causes me to feel . . . cautious.” Lucy’s thumb traced the gold rim of her saucer. “Her addendum states that if I am unwilling or unable to convince Lady Grainger to make a change in her will, I shall bring disaster raining down on all those who know and love me.” She lifted her damask serviette and dabbed away a tear. “Oh, Jane. This should be a happy time in my life. I am so looking forward to Evans’s arrival. Why does this have to happen now?”
“Because a calamity has struck the Ingrams,” I said reasonably. “They have lost their past and their future all at once. Neither can run to her mother for solace. Neither woman can attend the coronation parties. Neither can count on an enticing dowry. Consequently, they must have someone to strike back at. It has not—and will never—occur to them to make the best of things. They have had no guidance in the art of resilience. So they will continue to strike out blindly until . . .”
“Until what?” asked Lucy. Her pretty blue eyes were now a misty shade of gray blue.
“Until they either achieve satisfaction or destroy themselves in the process.”
Edward’s appearance caused a change of subject. By unspoken accord,
neither Lucy nor I mentioned the latest volley in our ongoing feud with the Ingram sisters.
“Mr. Douglas and I ventured out to collect the day’s newspapers,” said Edward, as he and Lucy’s brother joined us. “What a glorious day this looks to be! The spring breezes are delightful.”
His enthusiasm was infectious.
“Let’s go for a carriage ride in Hyde Park,” said Lucy. “All of us—the children, too. I’ll instruct Cook to make up a picnic basket. All the ton will be out today, since it’s sure to be one of the last fine days before hot weather sets in.” Lucy told me in an aside how once the weather warmed, we would be forced to stay inside to avoid the smell of horse urine, horse droppings, human refuse, and garbage. Imagining all that, I found myself longing for Ferndean again, with its clean, fresh smell of wild honeysuckle on the vine.
Upon hearing our plans, Adèle hopped up and down, exclaiming, “Moi aussi? S’il vous plait? J’aime bien un pique-nique!”
Lucy laughed. “You, too, little poppet.”
A short time later, Polly selected for me a brightly patterned green muslin dress with a matching green spencer jacket. From Lucy’s vast selection of bonnets, the lady’s maid had discovered one of cream and green that matched my clothes splendidly. Adèle was determined not to be outdone, and she’d cajoled Amelia into letting her wear her finest party frock. Ned realized something wonderful was about to happen, but he couldn’t tell what, so his dark eyes followed our every move until at last he, too, was in the carriage.
I thought an outing would do all of us good. I couldn’t imagine how we could avert the catastrophe promised by Blanche Ingram. I wondered if Lucy considered asking Lady Grainger to amend her will, but my question would have to wait for later.
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