The Butchered Man

by Harriet Smart

  “But you will inquire into it? I think you should.”

  “Of course, but frankly, I am at a loss to imagine how anything of this sort could be uncovered here. It is beyond impossible. Mrs Fulwood is a loyal, loyal servant – she’s been with me for years – and she would never go behind my back on such a thing.”

  “But the girls? You do admit that their backgrounds –”

  She cut in: “They may know of the methods, but there is no way in which they would be able to execute them. I am vigilant, Major, and I make no apologies for it. It is the only way in which I could run such an institution as this. Love and vigilance. That is all and everything.”

  “You must not take this amiss, ma’am, but these are serious inquiries and I must pursue them. If Mr Carswell’s observations are correct, then there must be someone here that –”

  “It is not possible,” she said, cutting in again. Then she pressed her knotted fingers to her lips for a moment. “Mr Carswell is mistaken.”

  “He may well be, but I am duty bound to ask, you do appreciate, ma’am?”

  “Yes, of course.”

  “Perhaps we might speak to the girl herself. She may shed some light on this. Perhaps she did embroider a little to Mr Carswell. She would not do that to you and me. From what he said of his visit this morning it seems she is much improved.”

  “His visit this morning?” said Miss Hilliard.

  “Yes, he was here first thing, I understand.”

  “Then Mr Carswell came here this morning without my permission. Yesterday I told him I did not wish him to call again. He behaved in an offensive manner and I did not think it was appropriate that he should attend on Abigail. I told him I would fetch Dr Woodcroft as usual. I only wish I had done that in the first place. It seems my confidence was misplaced. I was so concerned about Abigail and her distress. I wanted her to be seen promptly.”

  “Offensive. In what way? He insulted you?”

  “He is such a young man, a hot-head, as I said before. It was not a personal slight, but I could not permit him to return.”

  “And yet he did?”

  “Unfortunately, yes.”

  “Well, ma’am, I am sorry for it, very sorry indeed. He should not have.”

  “His conduct is not your responsibility, Major Vernon.”

  “To a degree is it,” said Giles. “I am his employer. And it angers me to think that he has caused you any offence, and then to contradict your wishes –”

  “It was his manner rather than his words. It was no great matter, or at least it would not be ordinarily, but as I explained to him myself, I cannot permit any relaxation of my rules here and he seems determined to transgress them. However, regrettable though it might be, it does explain why he is so eager to believe Abigail’s fanciful slander against my dear Fulwood. He is angry with me for turning him away.” She sighed. “It really is very unfortunate.”

  “It’s more than unfortunate!” exclaimed Giles. “It’s disgraceful.”

  ***

  “Disgraceful?” Felix countered. “It is she who is disgraceful. She allowed the girl’s nursing to be shockingly neglected. You heard me tell her yourself what she needed: constant and vigilant nursing! When I returned I found her left alone, in a dangerous state. In fact, if one wasn’t being extremely charitable, one would say she’d been left alone to die. It was touch and go.”

  “But you went back against Miss Hilliard’s express wishes.”

  “Of course I did. It would have been negligent of me not to do so. My conscience is clear.”

  “I do not think it can be, sir, since you entirely failed to tell me that she had asked you not to call again.”

  “It’s hardly relevant, given the necessity of my going.”

  “Hardly relevant?” Major Vernon exclaimed. “Is it hardly relevant when you make a serious accusation about the conduct of her establishment, an accusation of criminal wrong-doing, no less, that the superintendent herself had forbidden you entrance because you insulted her? And notwithstanding that, you went anyway?”

  “How have I insulted her? What does she say that I did?”

  “She found fault with the manner in which you conducted yourself. She considered your behaviour inappropriate.”

  “And she takes that as a personal insult? That I attempted to do my damned best for one of her charges when she would not take the trouble herself? Is it an insult because I failed to call on her when I first arrived but went straight to the girl? Does she expect to be treated like a duchess and deferred to on every point? Who does she think she is?”

  “If that is the manner in which you spoke to her then I am not surprised she sent you away!”

  “If I had gone fawning to her, as she seems to expect, the chances are the girl would have died. Her condition was deplorable and the blame for that must lie at Miss Hilliard’s door, not mine! She is simply using my manner as an excuse for her own shortcomings. This is quite ridiculous.”

  “The girl’s condition has nothing to do with this. The facts are plain enough to me. You returned to Brinklow when you were expressly asked not to do so and then you lied to me about it. What do you mean by it?”

  “I was acting in the best interests of my patient.”

  “And that excuses you from lying to me?”

  “I am a doctor. My patients must always comes first.”

  “She is no longer your patient. She ceased to be your patient last night when Miss Hilliard sent you away.”

  “On the flimsiest pretext. She had no right to do so.”

  “She had every right. She may engage whomsoever she chooses – and dismiss them if they fail to give satisfaction.”

  “Do you think I am some sort of servant, sir?” Felix said, incredulously.

  “In Miss Hilliard’s eyes you are, and she was well within her rights to do as she did.”

  “She is gravely mistaken if she thinks I can be treated like some common town apothecary to be sent away with a burning ear merely because I do not show her the necessary deference. Who is she to demand my deference?”

  “A lady, sir, and that should be enough for anyone who claims to be a gentleman!” said the Major.

  That hit hard, but Felix was not going to show he was winded by it.

  “I do not see a lady,” he said, calmly careless. “I see a woman who only pretends to care for those in her charge. You may see something else, of course, sir. She is handsome – enough to tempt a man if he likes taking orders and bending his neck, but then I shouldn’t have thought that was your fancy. But then perhaps it is?”

  He had a distant sense, even before he had finished this speech, that he had gone too far, but having said it, it was impossible to retract it.

  The Major was silent for a moment, a long awful moment.

  “If I were a young idiot like you, Mr Carswell,” he began, quietly but firmly, “I would not hesitate to call you out. Or perhaps I might give you a horsewhipping. You certainly deserve one. Do not, I repeat, do not ever again presume to make such personal remarks about me or you will live to regret it! Do you understand, sir?”

  Felix declined to answer.

  “And as for the matter of your falsehood to me,” Major Vernon continued, “your deliberate falsehood, well, I cannot begin to tell you how that tarnishes the good opinion I had begun to form of your character. That you did not think it necessary to deal with me plainly and honestly, like a gentleman – I find that beyond astonishing! Had you only told me last night what had occurred at Brinklow, then – well, this is all a very great disappointment to me. I can only hope you feel it for yourself.”

  He went towards the door.

  “There is something else, sir,” Felix said. “Datura stramonium.”

  Major Vernon turned and looked at him.

  “What?”

  “The seeds. I identified them. Datura stramonium: common name, the devil’s apple. Grows well in India, as you suggested. Grows anywhere in the southern hemisphere. Jimsonweed
. Common as anything in America.”

  “But not common here?”

  “No, it’s most unusual.”

  “Well, you are at least good for something,” he said, and left, slamming the door behind him.

  ***

  “Lord Rothborough is here, sir,” Barker said.

  Giles looked up from his paperwork. This was an interruption he could have done without and he contemplated sending Barker back with an excuse, but it was too late. Rothborough was coming through the door and before Giles had a chance to do anything about it, his lordship’s silk hat and stick were lying on his writing table.

  “My Lord,” he said. “What can I do for you?”

  “I want to talk to you, Major Vernon,” Rothborough said, drawing off his gloves. “In confidence.”

  “About –?”

  “Felix Carswell.”

  “I see.” Giles could not prevent a slight grimace.

  “You are a man of the world,” Rothborough said, strolling over the window and looking out at the drill square. “You must have guessed that the relationship between that young man and myself is not entirely what it seems.”

  “My Lord, I do not think it necessary that you –”

  “Major Vernon, it is essential that you know this. That I am plain with you on this matter. In the light of what occurred the other day – that unfortunate scene, well, to be plain with you as I said, the boy is my natural child. Of course, you will have gathered that.”

  “Yes, I had,” Giles said quietly. This was not at all a conversation he wished to have but Rothborough seemed to be rather enjoying himself.

  “I don’t make a great secret of it. Naturally, I do not receive him in mixed company, out of deference to my wife. That would not be acceptable, but I cannot ignore my feelings. Do you have children, Major? I expect you do. You know what I mean, I am sure.”

  “I think so,” said Giles, swallowing his impatience. “But I fail to see what this has to do with me.”

  “Because he is here, with you,” Rothborough said. “Believe me, Major Vernon, I should never have let him come here if I had not the highest confidence in your abilities. It was fortunate for me that you decided you were in want of a surgeon. I made it quite clear the other day how his choice of profession is not what I should have liked, but I have accommodated myself to it. I have seen the possibilities of it and when I learnt he had decided on this post, and that you would have charge of him, then, frankly, I was relieved. Greatly relieved. He wants polish, he wants civility, well, he wants a great deal, I am sure you have noticed that, and I consider you are the man to do it.” Rothborough smiled broadly at him, with the air of a man bestowing a tip on a servant.

  “This is very flattering, but I do not get your drift, sir.”

  “I have been consulting my lawyers,” Rothborough said. “The bulk of my estates are not strictly entailed, thank God, and of course, I shall see to it my daughters will not lose their due shares, but I cannot bear the thought of –” He broke off, and then resumed with a sharp question: “You said you had a son?”

  “No,” Giles said. “I did not.”

  “But you do?”

  “I had a boy, but he died,” Giles managed to say after a moment.

  “Ah, well, then you know. You know exactly of what I am speaking. That feeling, that extraordinary feeling that a father has for his son. There is nothing stronger in the world, in my opinion. Oh yes, people speak of maternal love as if it were something sacred, but I don’t see much evidence of that. Felix would be dead if his mother had had her way. She cared not a jot. Just an inconvenience to her, something that threatened to ruin her famous figure. It was her livelihood, of course, but the fact is, I’ve seen it in other women too. But a father and son, well, that’s something quite different. I’m sorry you lost your boy, Major, very sorry indeed.”

  Rothborough might have been perfectly sincere, but Giles felt he was not. He disliked this doled-out sympathy extremely, and found himself standing there, twisting a pencil in his fingers, wondering how much more of this he would have to endure.

  “The boy matters to me,” Rothborough said. “And I have plans for him. Great plans. I will not allow the accident of his birth to hinder them. Felix may dabble at his medicine for now, that I will permit. But I hope that he will be able to take his place in the world before too long. I may have to bring an act through Parliament to do it, but I will, make no mistake. He will inherit from me all that I can manage to give him. So he must be prepared for it. His education until now has been somewhat lacking. The people I gave him to are excellent, but they know nothing of the world and how it works. He is not yet fit for good society but I think a while in civil company, such as yours, sir, and we may fashion the clay into something a little more acceptable, yes?”

  “You consider he needs tutoring?”

  “Yes.”

  “And you think that I am the man to do that?”

  “Obviously,” said Rothborough. “Fate has brought you into my orbit. I am most satisfied. You will do an excellent job, I am sure.” He smiled. Giles did not.

  “You are assuming, my Lord, that this is something I should care to do,” he said.

  “Well, don’t you? You’d be well paid for it. Either in cash or kind, as they say. After all, you can’t wish to stay here for the rest of your life, Major Vernon. You too have a future. I would imagine a man like you could make a name for himself in the House, should he choose to. And as the intimate friend and guide of a future Lord Rothborough...” Rothborough gave a suggestive little shrug.

  “That’s very flattering, my Lord, but you misunderstand me. I am not a worldly man and I have long since ceased to have any ambitions of that kind. I have no need of your patronage and I am fully occupied as it is,” Giles said, brandishing a sheaf of papers. “I have a murder inquiry on my hands. I have quite enough to do here without making a great gentleman of Mr Carswell!”

  “Are you refusing to help me?” said Rothborough.

  “Yes,” Giles said. “I am not a bear-leader. The task is beyond me, certainly!”

  “Do not be rash now,” said Rothborough.

  “Mr Carswell has come here for one reason, Lord Rothborough, as my surgeon. He is here to work for me and for my men. This is not a finishing school. It is a police force.”

  Rothborough exhaled rather noisily.

  “You’re a Tory, aren’t you? Is that it?”

  “My politics are quite irrelevant. I am merely telling you, my Lord, that I cannot undertake this. And you should consider long and hard, whether what you are trying to do is wise or even practicable.”

  Rothborough looked a trifle startled at that. Giles supposed he could hardly be used to such plain speaking.

  “What do you mean?”

  “The world may not look kindly on your ambitions,” Giles said. “And I suspect Carswell will not either.”

  “Impossible!” exclaimed Rothborough. “Quite impossible. No, you are not a worldly man, Major, I see that now. Well, well,” he said, taking up his hat and stick. “That is your choice and you have made it. So be it.”

  Returning to his desk, Giles had the unpleasant realisation that not only had Carswell made him lose his temper, but he had made a hypocrite of him. All that earnest counsel about not making an enemy of the likes of Rothborough, and he had just sent his lordship off with a flea in his ear. It was just as well he was not an ambitious man.

  Chapter Twenty

  This time, feeling a deeper level of subterfuge was necessary, Felix left his horse some distance away in an old barn. He slung his medical bag across his shoulder, and made his way through the vegetable gardens that surrounded the building.

  Ahead of him, the fresh brick and white stone, faux gothic fancifulness of the building loomed up. It seemed to mock him with its entirely specious benevolence. A house of mercy it was not. It was a prison under the command of a harridan.

  What on earth did the Major see in that woman? For it was ce
rtain that Vernon did admire her, given the way he had reacted. It was just as well he was not wearing his cutlass. Felix felt from the look on his face he would have skewered him with it, given half a chance. He could not begin to understand it and it was disgusting to think of that creature wrapping Major Vernon around her finger.

  Reaching the pig sties, he noticed a vast black spot sow lying on a bed of straw, looking massively contented and complacent, perhaps the only happy creature in the place. And then around a corner, lugging a pail much too large for her, came Lizzy.

  She stopped and stared at him, horrified.

  “What are you doing here?”

  “I’ve come to see Abigail, of course.”

  “No, no, you mustn’t. You mustn’t.”

  “I have to.”

  “Well, you won’t find her. They’ve moved her somewhere. I don’t know where. I went to look for her and she’s gone.”

  “What?”

  “She’s just not there. They must have put her in another room somewhere. And old Fulwood’s been watching me, all day. Like she knows. You told them, didn’t you? You told them what I said.”

  “I had to,” Felix said.

  “You promised,” she said, struggling free of him and continuing doggedly on her way with the pail. “Just go away, won’t you? You’re nothing but trouble.”

  She tipped the pail into the sow’s trough.

  “I’m trying to help,” Felix said, coming up behind her.

  “Then leave us alone. Just leave us all alone!” she said, pushing him aside.

  “Roberts! Roberts, where are you, girl?” The sound of Mrs Fulwood’s voice and of wooden patterns clattering on the cobbles rang out through the yard. “Roberts!”

  “Quick,” Eliza said. “Hide!” She pushed him around the corner. He had to flatten himself against the wall so as not to be visible.

  “What are you doing here?”

  “Taking the slops out, like you told me, ma’am.”

  “Taking too long about it! Did I hear you talking to someone?”

  “No, ma’am. Just to the pig.”

  “Don’t you be clever with me!”