Circle of Pearls

by Rosalind Laker

  ‘In any case I’ve nothing to fear, because as a child I alone survived in a pest-house when my parents and all those shut in there round me died of the plague,’ she stated firmly.

  ‘What a terrible experience!’

  ‘It was, but by isolating us the rest of the village escaped the infection. If that had been done at first sign in London all this trouble would never have spread. Country ways are always best.’

  When Molly fell asleep during the night hours as the coach rumbled on, Julia was able to talk to Michael about his strange pains. As tactfully as possible she pointed out how odd it was that he should always be afflicted on the eve of coming to England. She could not see his face in the darkness of the coach, but she heard him sigh.

  ‘I know what you’re thinking,’ he admitted, ‘I drew the same conclusions myself after a while, but I was wrong, because I get slight attacks at other times that can only be due to the digestive disorder that the doctor diagnosed just as I have told you.’

  ‘Do those times coincide with anything?’

  ‘No, they are entirely without pattern. I blame the stress of business because, naturally, there are difficult periods when all does not go well. Put the matter from your mind, Julia. There is nothing to worry about.’

  She leaned towards him urgently. ‘Test my theory! Come to England with me! You can go straight to Sotherleigh and be in no danger of infection. Stay only a day or two if you wish, but do it! Let’s see if any pains result from the nervous excitement that supposedly attacks you at the prospect of homecoming! If they don’t, you’ll know for certain they are induced.’

  She sensed his hesitation and could guess at the struggle within him. He did not want to believe that his wife was capable of such viciousness — the whole of his nature was set against it — but this was one time when Sophie would have had no chance to do anything, for when leaving Paris with Julia at extremely short notice, there had been no question of his travelling farther than Calais.

  ‘I’ll go with you,’ he said in a hollow voice.

  At Calais he found they had five hours before the next ship sailed. While Julia and Molly rested at a hostelry he sat downstairs writing letters to send back to Paris with the coachman. One was to Sophie to explain that he had decided on impulse to make a quick trip to Sotherleigh and another to his chief clerk about business appointments that would have to be cancelled and other matters to be dealt with during his brief absence. When he had sealed both letters and they had been sent on their way, he knew the truth already. Nothing would affect his health this time.

  17

  At Dover, after having to be strict with well-meaning Molly on the voyage, Julia had made her plans. Her maid had wanted to accompany her to London, but she would not allow it.

  ‘You’ll be far more help to me by going ahead and seeing that those three isolated and empty cottages away from the village are prepared for my weavers and embroiderers when I get them there. Make up beds, lay in a stock of food and see that the wells have new buckets. You’ll have to be in charge of them if anything should prevent my leaving London.’

  There would be only one reason for that, which was if she should find Adam too ill to be moved, and she had difficulty in suppressing the anxiety in her voice. She gave Molly more instructions, some of which Mary could help with, and wrote them all down to make sure that nothing was overlooked.

  Michael had told her he would be riding through the night to reach Sotherleigh and would leave Molly at a hostelry if she should not be able to keep up with his pace. It suited Julia that he should make such haste, knowing it was Mary whom he was eager to see again, for Julia was able to arrange with him that immediately upon his arrival at Sotherleigh he should send off coachmen with equipages to collect her workers at a given point on the road not far from London.

  ‘I won’t know until I get to London exactly how things will work out, but I can always get a message to my embroiderers and weavers that those wishing to leave for Sussex can find the transport there. I hope to manage everything personally, but that depends on how I find Adam.’

  She was to ride with an Anglican parson and his wife, whom they had met on board ship. The Reverend Thomas Webb, fifty years old, had left his post as tutor to the children of a Cavalier’s widow in Paris to answer a spiritual call to minister to the plague-stricken in London. His courageous wife, also fifty, was with him, being of a similar mind.

  ‘My wife and I will be most happy for your sister to ride with us,’ he had said to Michael. ‘You need have no fears for her safety. I am armed. Not that I myself wish to shoot a fellow human being, but I have found in the past that firing into the air is enough to scare off any scallywags.’

  Julia thought that just the look of him might have done that, for he had hawk features and fierce bushy eyebrows that met in the middle, giving him a most threatening appearance. It was only at close quarters that it was possible to see that his eyes were as mild as a child’s. Mrs Webb, tidy, plain and comfortably shaped, had her grey hair screwed back out of sight under a frilled cap on which a felt hat was secured by ribbons tied under her chin. Paris fashions had passed her by and Julia liked her all the more for it. There was something about the woman’s practical, no-nonsense attitude that reminded her nostalgically of Katherine.

  Horses were hired. Michael helped Julia up into the saddle. Behind it was strapped the small roll of baggage that was all she had brought with her; the rest was to follow with Faith whenever she should return. Among the written instructions given to Sarah was one for any type of clothing, old or still in use, to be sent with the transport Michael would be dispatching from Sotherleigh. Julia herself counted on having the garments she had left in the Strand house.

  ‘God speed you,’ Michael said to her. ‘May you find Adam well.’

  ‘I pray so,’ she answered huskily. Then she set off with the Webbs along the London road, leaving her brother and Molly to gallop off on another route to Sussex.

  There were no difficulties on the journey towards the capital, although it would have been a different matter had they been coming away from the city. Turnpikes and barriers had been erected at bridges and on the outskirts of towns and villages to prevent refugees from the plague entering the vicinity. Well-meant advice not to go near London was shouted to the three travellers many times.

  The long light summer evening and regular changes of horses enabled them to cover much of the distance to London before the Webbs called a halt for supper and an overnight stay. Julia was all for going on through the night. She had never wanted to be with Adam more. Such a yearning for him had possessed her from that moment at Versailles when she had first learned he might be in danger that she could not get to him quickly enough. Yet now, when she was only a few hours away, the landlord of the tavern where the Webbs were seeking shelter had informed her of a hold-up she had not anticipated.

  ‘You’d never get into London now that it’s after nine o’clock. London Bridge is barred and there’s a curfew everywhere until morning with the penalty of imprisonment for those that break it.’

  She resigned herself to staying. When she sat down to supper with the Webbs, the landlord himself brought a joint of roast beef to their table and proceeded to give them further information about the capital as he carved. All the theatres and pleasure gardens had been closed by order of the Lord Mayor, who, with his aldermen, was staying stoically in London to ensure that law and order were maintained, the main keepers of which were the watchmen, the women inspectors who investigated houses where it was suspected the plague victims were being concealed, and a small number of troops. Cockpits, bull-and-bear baiting arenas and anywhere else where crowds gathered had also been shut down. So many thousands had died that great pits had been dug in fields outside the city and carts collected the dead by night, public money keeping the collectors drunk, else they would not carry out their gruesome task. Countless numbers of the populace had fled, but thousands more had to stay because of business or pers
onal commitments or simply because they had nowhere to go.

  ‘You’ll be getting a glimpse of hell, Sir,’ the landlord warned, putting slices of the good beef on to the three plates which a waiting-maid, who had brought dishes of vegetables, took in turns to set before each of the three guests.

  ‘Which part of London appears to be faring worst?’ Mr Webb enquired. ‘I hear that within the walls of the City itself there have not been many cases.’

  ‘That was so until recently and then everything changed. Now everybody talks of the Great Plague and indeed it is so. It flared up first in the parish of St Giles in Holborn and at Covent Garden, whereupon it reached out towards Westminster.’ He noticed that Julia caught her breath. ‘You have family there, madam?’

  ‘My husband. Our home is in the Strand.’

  ‘Ah!’ He shook his head pessimistically to show that he could say nothing to relieve her anxiety there. ‘The plague doesn’t abate in areas that it has attacked. Quite the reverse, even though it is forever sweeping on. Soon all the outlying parishes were in the throes of it. Now the City is beginning to feel the full force of its terrible onslaught.’ He picked up the dish of beef, ready to carry it away, ‘I couldn’t advise anywhere in London now where you’d be safe, sir.’

  The parson raised his thatch of eyebrows. ‘I wasn’t thinking of that aspect. My wife and I wish to go straight to wherever the sick and dying are most in need of spiritual comfort and nursing.’

  Mrs Webb endorsed his statement. ‘All that we’ve heard since landing at Dover has told us we did right to return for that purpose.’

  The landlord’s expression was blended of admiration for such valiant courage and disbelief at such folly. ‘You’ll be much needed. They say many of the doctors have fled the plague themselves and the drabs and villainesses acting as nurses hasten the end of many of the sick to steal from them. May the Lord preserve you all from these many dangers.’ Then he left them, shaking his head again. Mrs Webb noticed that Julia was not touching her food and leaned forward to point at it. ‘Eat up, my dear. You may be needing all the strength you have and being hungry will only weaken you.’

  Julia accepted her reasoning. She did not doubt it was a good meal, but she appreciated none of it as gradually she forced herself to clear her plate.

  After supper she asked the parson’s wife to explain the plague to her and how best to treat it, for she had no guidance. It had never brushed against Sotherleigh and to her knowledge there was nowhere in Sussex that had been attacked in her lifetime. What struck her as most inhumane in dealing with the plague was the old law that decreed that once one member of a household fell sick all the rest living there had to be locked in with the victim to survive or die as fate willed. Although it was intended to check the spread of the disease it meant that many had died who would otherwise have escaped. Usually it broke out in the meanest areas of a city, where the poor were crowded together and the filthy streets were never swept. Maybe the clean sea breezes, which Grandfather Ned was said always to have praised, had much to do with keeping the county of Sussex free of the pestilence.

  ‘What are the first signs I should look for?’ Julia had invited Mrs Webb into the bedchamber she had taken for the night, for Mr Webb was already in bed and asleep in the neighbouring room.

  ‘You can be sure I know what I’m talking about when I tell you.’ The woman settled herself comfortably in a chair, ‘I spent years nursing the poor in my husband’s parish in one of the worst areas of Liverpool before Cromwell deprived him of his living and we sought employment abroad. The plague was a constant hazard, often brought ashore in cargoes. As for signs, there are quite a few and not all immediately discernible.’

  ‘Excessive sneezing is one, I believe.’

  ‘It is. You know the old rhyme, “Ring-o-ring of roses”? The mention of roses is the reddish plague-blains or marks on the skin and a pocketful of posies refer to the herbs carried to ward off infection. The words “Atishoo, atishoo, we all fall down” relate to the final fatal symptom before the infected drop dead. Fortunately children in their innocence are unaware of its meaning when they play.’

  ‘What else gives warning?’

  ‘Shivering is another symptom. Yet sometimes the only warning is a feeling of immense tiredness when out walking or carrying out some ordinary chore and the victims will need to sit down immediately. Within minutes these unfortunate people expire. Just as if they had dropped off to sleep.’

  Julia was aghast. ‘So quickly!’

  ‘It’s when the plague-blains have appeared on their bodies without their knowledge. You see, the plague takes two main forms. Firstly there is the spotted fever that produces this particular gangrene of the body. Frequently, the tiredness doesn’t come upon them at all and they feel perfectly well, going about their daily business as I have said, and then to their horror they discover the dreadful tokens on themselves. Soon afterwards they will die. Nothing can be done for them.’ She raised her hands and let them fall again into her lap helplessly, ‘It has happened that a whole ship’s crew has been struck down and the vessel left to drift with no-one at the helm.’

  ‘I have heard tell of that.’

  ‘The second form that the plague takes is far worse, because at least the spotted fever is mercifully quick.’

  ‘I know that swellings appear either in the neck or groin or in the armpits.’

  ‘The agony is beyond endurance. There are such pains in the head and such torture from the swellings. Many turn crazy from the pain and throw themselves from windows. In such a case you must keep the windows shuttered and the door locked. Hot poultices to make the swellings break is the main treatment, but in my experience it is when they are drawn too quickly that they reach the hardness of iron. This is where doctors add to the patients’ torment by burning when a sharp knife fails to penetrate, because unless the poison is released it is certain death.’

  Julia shuddered, but this was no time for squeamishness. She had to be prepared. ‘Then early treatment with poultices should be cautious. Ideally the swellings should break naturally.’

  ‘That’s right. I have found a way that has worked well with many although it is entirely unconventional.’

  ‘What is it?’ Julia trusted instinctively this woman’s good sense.

  ‘Well, when I was a child I lived in York and it was half truth and half legend that once the plague was brought to the city in a cargo of silks that came from a ship docked in the Humber. One man was so maddened by the pain of a swelling in his groin that he threw off those who would have kept him restrained to his bed and rushed out of the house to hurl himself into the river. He swam across and back again, getting relief through the coldness of the water on his burning body.’

  ‘Surely that killed him? I thought bedclothes had to be piled on to the patient to produce a sweat.’

  ‘That’s what is always done, but the river had eased his fever and the exercise had loosened the tightness of the swelling, which broke naturally soon after he staggered back home. I keep a patient bathed with cool water and exercise continually whichever part of the body is affected, whether it means rotating the head or the arm or the leg. It is exhausting for the patient and for me. Sometimes a knife has had to be used at the end, but never to such a degree of torture as can be afflicted otherwise, and the patients have been spared the terrible oven-heat of induced sweatings adding to the fever-fire of their bodies.’ Mrs Webb leaned forward and patted Julia’s hand. ‘Remember what I’ve told you. You’ll need to be strong to give this treatment, but you look capable to me. Don’t be discouraged by anything. I have saved many patients and had greater success than any doctor I’ve ever met.’

  ‘I know whenever my mother visited infectious cases of fever in the village, she always changed her clothes and bathed herself from head to toe before coming into contact with anyone else in the house. Is that how you keep from spreading infection?’

  ‘I do. I go straight into an outside wash-house, thr
ow everything into a tub of soapsuds and then pour a bucket of cold water over my head to douse myself to my feet.’

  ‘I have planned something similar for my workers before they reach the cottages at Sotherleigh.’

  ‘Well done. When God gave us water to drink does it not seem logical that something so pure should be intended for use in healing as well?’

  Before Julia slept she wondered how far Michael was on his journey. There was every likelihood that aided by this bright moonlit night he would be safely at Sotherleigh by now.

  *

  It was on the brink of dawn when Michael roused the servants that slept in the coach-house and stable lofts. Molly had delayed him, refusing to be left behind as she had her duties to carry out for Julia at Sotherleigh too. Lanterns twinkled and yawns were stifled as grooms and stable-boys went about their tasks. When Michael saw that all was in order he instructed on impulse that the coach be added to the three carts that would be going in case his sister should have need of it.

  ‘Be particularly vigilant,’ he warned the coachmen and the grooms he was sending with each one. ‘If people fleeing the plague are desperate they might try to take the horses from you.’

  ‘I’ll see that don’t ’appen, sir,’ the leading coachman answered confidently.

  Satisfied, Michael went into the house by way of the kitchen. The cook and the kitchen staff, awakened by Molly, were preparing breakfast for those about to depart and making ready travel food for them and the passengers they were to collect later in the day.

  He went upstairs, throwing aside his hat and cloak as he went and making for Mary’s room. Since he was not expected her door should not be locked this time. He turned the handle and it gave at once. She did not stir when he entered and only awoke with startled, widening eyes as he sat on the bed and scooped her into his arms, causing her soft hair to swing about her face.