The Butchered Man

by Harriet Smart

  It was busy in the kitchen since the night constables were coming back in for their breakfast, but all seemed in order. He got himself coffee and porridge and went into the large mess hall, where he stood by the fire, watching the men return.

  Jackson came limping in with a handkerchief tied around his leg.

  “You’d better go straight up to Mr Carswell,” said Giles.

  “If he’s fit for work this morning,” Sergeant Hopkins said. “You’ve not heard yet, sir, I take it?”

  “What happened?”

  “You’d better ask Constable Perry, sir.”

  Perry was sitting at the end of one of the long tables and was making short work of a large plate of ham and eggs.

  “Perry, what is this about Mr Carswell?”

  Perry stopped eating, stood up, and wiped his hand on his sleeve before he spoke.

  “We put him to bed, sir,” said Perry. “We weren’t sure what to do with him. Normally, we’d have put him in the cells, sir, in his condition, but Inspector Field and Sergeant Hopkins, well, they thought...”

  “Are you saying you found Mr Carswell drunk in the town?”

  “Pissed as they come, sir. In Rope Street. Outside number seventeen. In a state of undress. Heaving his guts up.” He reached for his quarter loaf of bread and started to cut himself a thick slice.

  “Seventeen Rope Street?” said Giles. The house was a notorious one. “You are sure about that?”

  “Definitely seventeen,” Perry said, his mouth full of bread. “And as I said, he’d got his coat under his arm and his shirt tail flapping. Grovelling in the gutter for his cravat. Quite a sight it was.”

  Inspector Field confirmed Perry’s account of Carswell’s ignominious return. He had been “all over the place.”

  “You should have woken me,” Giles said.

  “It was past two, sir. I had them take him upstairs to his quarters. Apparently he went out like a light. If it had been anyone else we should have left him in the cells to sleep it off. But I thought you would want to deal with it this morning in your own way.”

  At that moment Giles had absolutely no wish to deal with it at all. He was profoundly irritated by this development, and he felt an overwhelming desire to haul Carswell out of his bed and give him a comprehensive barracking. But that would have to wait. Given the condition of Jackson’s leg, what was needed was a good surgeon, and quickly.

  ***

  Felix didn’t recall getting to bed. He did not even recall getting back to The Unicorn.

  He woke to find himself lying on his bed, with the sun coming through the open shutters. There was the most searing pain in his head. And over him loomed Major Vernon, who grabbed his shoulder and gave him a violent shake.

  Felix tried to sit up and failed.

  “You’re alive, then,” the Major said.

  “Just – sir,” he was careful to add. If he was not respectful now then God knows what would happen.

  “Physician, heal thyself,” said the Major. “We will talk later, Mr Carswell. At ten. In my quarters. In the meantime, there’s a case waiting for you. So look sharp to it, will you?”

  “Yes, sir, at once,” Felix said, hauling himself up again.

  And with that Vernon was gone.

  Felix massaged his pounding temples with his fingertips but it did not do much good. He wondered how urgent the case was.

  He swung his legs around and attempted to stand up. He found he was half-dressed and still half-drunk by the feel of it. Pulling off his shirt he went over to the washstand and poured himself a basin of water. He hurled a few handfuls of icy water at himself and scrabbled about to find a shirt that did not stink of vomit, brandy and cheroots. All he could find were new ones sent by his mother and as he pulled it over his head, he noticed the familiar smell of home about it, the scent of linen dried on grass. In his mind’s eye he had a sudden vision of the Carswell family linen lying on the drying green behind the vegetable plot, and himself, as a tiny child picking his way along the narrow paths of green between the sheets and shifts. He had considered that a dangerous and thrilling game at the time, because of the risk of stumbling onto the linen, which would have earned him a scolding from his mother or, worse, from one of the maids.

  He wondered if there was some part of his nature that liked to take unnecessary risks – merely because he could. Was it an act of defiance on his part, against all the proscriptions of life? But equally he knew the proscriptions were there for a reason, and that the consequences of transgression were not desirable. He had not enjoyed the scoldings from his mother or being skelped by an angry maidservant. He was not going to take any pleasure from recalling last night’s escapade and he certainly was not going to relish hearing what Major Vernon thought about his conduct.

  In short, he felt like a mystery to himself that morning.

  Without bothering with a waistcoat or cravat, he went through the consulting room and into the passage beyond. On the bench sat a constable with his trouser leg half ripped off and a bloody cloth tied about his calf. His complexion was ashen, but his manner was stoical.

  “What happened to you?” Felix asked, as he helped him into the consulting room.

  “Dirty great brute of a dog bit me. Fighting dog.”

  “This is quite a mauling,” said Felix, crouching down to examine the wound.

  “Nay, that’s nothing, sir,” said the constable, looking down at Felix with a grin. “Compared to what you’re going to get from the Major. The hounds of hell themselves will have nowt on him. Reckon you’ve never seen him in a temper, have you, sir?”

  “No, I reckon I haven’t,” said Felix, reaching for a suture. “This is going to hurt, I’m afraid, Constable.”

  “Oh aye, it will that,” the man said with a grim chuckle. “It will that.”

  “Not that, this,” said Felix, inserting the needle. Somewhat to his annoyance the man barely flinched.

  ***

  The maid whitening the step told him that no-one was at home. Mrs Lepaige was working at the soup kitchen in the Minster Gatehouse but where the master was, she could not say.

  Giles found Mrs Lepaige standing on a duck-board in the Gatehouse kitchen, chopping up a vast pile of turnips with a large knife. She was working with great deftness and concentration and she did not stop as he approached her. She only looked up with a questioning expression.

  “I’m sorry to interrupt,” he said. “I wondered, could you identify these for me?”

  She laid down the knife and wiped her hands on her apron before taking the open box of seeds from him. She studied them carefully for a few moments.

  “I believe it is Datura stramonium,” she said. “Sometimes called the devil’s apple. A very distinctive shape.”

  “Do you have any of these seeds in your collection?”

  “Yes, I do.”

  “Why?”

  “My brother sent the seeds to me. I have been raising specimens from them.”

  “And your brother is where?”

  “In the Carolinas. He has sent me a great many botanical treasures. Of course, Datura stramonium is hardly a rarity there. The locals call it Jimsonweed and it is considered a great nuisance. A cattle killer.”

  “It seems a little odd to me to try and raise a nuisance.”

  “Yes, to you perhaps, but I do not discriminate,” she said, picking up her knife and starting to chop again. “Or at least I try not to. I try to treat all plants equally, loved or unloved. And there is of course the inherent interest in a successful plant. Why are they successful? What makes them so vigorous when others fail? Though perhaps it seems strange to you, Major, that a woman should pursue such questions.”

  “They are interesting questions,” Giles said.

  “Almost as interesting as your questions,” Mrs Lepaige said. “May I ask why you are so interested in Datura stramonium?”

  “Because we found a quantity of the seeds in Mr Rhodes’ stomach. The surgeon is of the opinion that they ar
e what killed him.” She laid down the knife and stared at him. “Did you give some seeds to anyone, Mrs Lepaige?”

  “No. Why would I? They are only of interest to me, and as you know they are highly poisonous. It would have been irresponsible to let them out of my sight. If it established itself in someone’s garden the plant would be a menace, especially as it is so vigorous. It would be all over the fields in no time, and causing no end of damage. It would kill livestock. So of course I have not given the seeds to anyone. I would never be so foolish, Major Vernon.”

  “You are quite certain?”

  “Quite.”

  “And your husband, he does not know what these seeds are?”

  “No, sir, he does not. He knows nothing of botany. Your questions are rather impertinent.”

  “Impertinent, yes, ma’am, but necessary. The fact remains that Mr Rhodes was poisoned by these seeds and I must find their source. Perhaps you might help me with that? Is there anyone you know who shares your interest and knowledge in such matters?”

  “No, no, there is no-one. Not in Northminster, as far as I know.”

  “And you have not discussed this plant or the properties of these seeds with anyone in your circle – your daughters, perhaps? One of your pupils?”

  “No. I generally deal only with native plants in my lessons.”

  “You did not speak to any friends about it?”

  “People are not usually very interested in my studies,” she said. “So I do not talk about them.”

  “So there is no-one you can think of who might have taken the seeds without you knowing? Perhaps you warned one of your servants that they were poisonous and not to touch them?”

  Mrs Lepaige shook her head.

  “If you do remember anything I should like to know. It is very important.” She nodded.

  “Good morning!” A woman’s voice rang out behind them.

  Giles turned at the sound of it.

  Miss Hilliard was standing in the arched doorway to the kitchen. She had draped a white hooded cloak over her black bonnet and clothes and it gave her a nun-like appearance. After the previous night’s dream it was disturbing to look at her, but it did not make him look away.

  “I’ve brought two of my girls with me to help with the rough work,” she said to Mrs Lepaige. “And I have brought my best little kitchen knife, Mrs Lepaige. Now please give me a good heap of onions to chop. I do not mind onions. They do not make me cry.” She came down the steps into the kitchen, the girls behind her. “Now, girls, Mrs Lepaige will show you what to do,” she said and then she caught sight of him. “Oh, good morning, Major Vernon!”

  “Good morning.”

  “Have you come to help us make soup?” she asked as she began to take off her cloak, and he could not resist the temptation to step forward and help her with it. It slipped into his arms in its generous fullness and he found himself holding it against him. Quickly he strode away and hung it on the rack with the others. He turned back to see her tying on a gingham apron.

  “Oh, I have left my basket outside,” she said and went back up the steps. But as she did, he saw her stumble at the top and dashed up to catch her. As a result they seemed to fall out into the cloister together, entangled for a moment. His face was close enough to hers to kiss her and he was sorely tempted to do just that. But instead he guided her to one of the stone benches that lined the wall.

  “I think you have turned your ankle,” he said.

  “I don’t think so,” she said. “Perhaps I will try it and see –”

  “No, no, you must not stand on it. At least not for a moment,” he said, and laid his hand on her arm to stop her from getting up.

  “But what about all those onions?” she said.

  “They will be better chopped when you have recovered yourself.”

  “It does feel a trifle sore,” she said, and reached down to rub her ankle, brushing against him as she did so.

  “It probably needs a poultice.”

  “I will ask Mrs Lepaige for one,” she said. “She is very clever at such things.”

  “I will,” he said, getting up. “You will stay there.”

  “Well, I must, of course. I would not dare disobey you, Major Vernon,” and she looked at up at him with a dazzling smile. It seemed to him that all hell lay implied in that smile. It was not that she was being provocative, or dangerous. It was a simple, warm smile of friendship, but it produced a powerful sort of distraction in him. “But please, do not go at once. She is busy with the soup. I am not in such distress, as you can see.”

  “If you are sure?”

  “Quite,” she said.

  “Then let me keep you company until you are better.”

  “Thank you,” she said.

  He sat down beside her on the stone bench.

  “It is rather cold here,” he said. “You should put your cloak back on.”

  He jumped up again, and went to fetch the cloak.

  “I am unused to having such attention paid to my comfort,” she said, as he draped the cloak round her shoulders.

  “You should be used to it,” said Giles. “If there was any justice in the world, you should have a husband to tend to you properly.”

  “I told you I am quite satisfied in that respect,” she said. “I have my work.”

  “Yes, but it still seems wrong to me. You deserve more.”

  “You think all women must be wives. That is natural, I suppose.”

  “I was not being general, but particular,” he said. “I’m sorry,” he added quickly. “I don’t know what I am saying.” He got up quickly and crossed the cloister, determined to distract himself. “Tell me about Mrs Lepaige. What do you think of her?”

  “Why do you ask?” she said. “Oh, I see, it is to do with Mr Rhodes, is it not?”

  “Yes, I am afraid it is.”

  “I admire her,” she said after a moment. “She is intelligent, practical, charitable. She has such energy. It is a great shame about St Gabriel’s Without. That would have been a great opportunity for a person of her talents.”

  “Yes, I gather so. Did she tell you how she felt on that subject?”

  “She was very angry, bitterly angry. She has great spirit and it was a crushing blow to her hopes.”

  “This anger, how was it expressed?”

  “What a strange question, Major. You cannot mean to imply that she... oh, surely not?”

  “I do not mean to imply anything. I simply want to know what was said. She confided in you?”

  “Yes, she did,” she said rather quietly.

  “And what did she say?” he said sitting down beside her again.

  “Terrible things,” Miss Hilliard said after a moment. “But as I said, she has great spirit and this was a crushing blow.”

  “What precisely?”

  “Must I tell you?”

  “I think so,” he said.

  “She said she wished him dead,” she said in an even quieter voice. “There, you see why I would not say it. Now you will think dreadful things! But I am sure, quite sure she did not mean it. It was just the heat of her passion that made her say it. Her anger has passed now. She is a good Christian and she accepted the disappointment as a cross which must be carried. In fact I find that even more admirable. I do not think I could have taken it so well.”

  “Thank you for you candour, Miss Hilliard,” Giles said.

  “I hope you will not think ill of her. I cannot bear that you should.”

  “Unfortunately that is part of this profession of mine.”

  “It does not suit you, then,” she said. “You ought not be to required to be suspicious. It strikes me as entirely at odds with your character.”

  “You are being very generous,” Giles said.

  “Well, good morning!”

  He looked up and saw Sally coming towards them. He got up to greet her.

  “I just came to make sure that the cheese got here. I sent Bennett over with it earlier.”

 
“Yes, it did,” said Miss Hilliard rising. “I saw it on the table. Thank you, Mrs Fforde. Most generous.”

  “It’s the least I can do. I’m sorry I cannot help more this morning.” Sally turned to Giles. “Are you going down into town?” It was an order rather than a request.

  “Yes,” he said a little bemused.

  “Then we will go down together,” she said, taking his arm.

  “What were you doing there?” Sally said, a few moment later when they were alone and out of earshot.

  “Work.”

  “That hardly looked like work,” Sally said. “I didn’t know that you knew her so well.”

  “I don’t.”

  Sally raised an eyebrow.

  “You should be careful,” she said.

  “About what?” Giles said.

  “That you don’t make a fool of yourself. It’s a good thing I came along to rescue you.”

  “You make it sound like a well-laid plan, Sal – and I do resent the suggestion that Miss Hilliard is someone one might need to be rescued from. You make her sound like a very cheap article.”

  “I did not mean that at all. I meant to rescue you from yourself. We are usually our own worst enemy, don’t you think? And in your situation, well –”

  “You don’t need to speak to me like this, Sally,” he said, beginning to feel a little annoyed. “I’m not one of your children.”

  “But you are a man. And men have feelings, strong feelings, do they not? And such feelings must find some outlet or other.”

  “I really don’t think –”

  “You were sitting there flirting with the woman, Giles. You can’t deny it. I’ve never seen anything so blatant.”

  “You are completely misinterpreting this.”

  “I do not think so. It looked very warm to me. Does she know your situation?”

  “Yes.”

  “She does?” Sally took a little intake of breath. “Perhaps I was not rescuing you just from yourself. And now you will take great offence, because you think I am insulting her, but really she had no business, knowing that you are married, sitting there with you like that, her eyes all on you.”