“Alistair Purefoy,” Smithson said as he refreshed our cups of tea. He slowly shook his head. “You amaze me, sir. You truly do. My only regret is that you were not wearing your weapons. Just think if you had whipped off your coat and bared your teeth!”
“The gallery reaction,” I said, “would probably have been the same.”
And so I find myself in a truly peculiar situation, my darling Miss E. It seems that I am to be trained to be a physician. I have been awarded a sponsor. In a mere twenty-four-hour time period, it seems that I have been falsely accused of murder. I have lost my work with the Doctoral Council. I have been hired as a private apprentice. I have been moved into sumptuous luxury. I have hope of eventually becoming a physician, of making it possible for you and I to be together.
It boggles the mind. It truly does. In a way, I feel as if a hundred pounds have been lifted from my shoulders. I will admit that I remain confused, precisely, about how these events unfolded. It is very clear to me that there is a greater story in process, one happening all around me. I have yet to understand it all, but I am committed to fighting the confusion as it presents itself.
Mostly, I am grateful that, strange as it might seem, the Gentlemen are my friends. Thus far, they have proved the only salvation in my terrible, storm-tossed sea. I am cautious but appreciative. Without their help, I would have been doomed.
I am to see the new office tomorrow.
I am thinking of you tonight, as I so often do. I wonder what it is you are doing, what you are thinking. I so wish there was a way to obtain your counsel in these matters, without waiting for the delay of letters. What do you make of this? Do you care for these changes? Are you as excited as I am over the possibility of this eventual career?
And if so, would you entertain thoughts of one day moving to Edinburgh?
I am presumptive. Forgive me. Forgive me, but please consider it, when the time comes.
Regards.
Chapter Nineteen
October 27
New Town
Dear Miss Campbell,
It is late Saturday evening, and I am arranged at my desk. Things have finally settled down enough that I can write you a proper, cheerful missive. I was beginning to fear that I would never be able to do so again (or worse, write from prison!) but everything, thankfully, has calmed.
All is right in my world. I am drinking a very fine brandy. I am sitting before the fire. And I am writing You!
I am in receipt of several of your letters, and am happy to return to a more pleasant and normal conversation. I am glad that you enjoyed the truffles, and on Thursday evening, I conveyed your appreciation to Miss Whitcomb. She was extremely pleased that you liked them, and was relieved that her assurance of your steadfast friendship to me was indeed correct.
She also decided that you might wish to know more of the fashions of Edinburgh, the latest styles and such, and teased me mercilessly over my complete ineptitude in such matters. Consequently, she gave me several catalogues and fashion plates to include with my letter, which you will find attached.
Miss Whitcomb was aghast that I had not spoken, even in a paragraph, with regard to what ladies are wearing this Season, and what their accessories are. She made me promise to say something about hunter green morning dresses, cinched on the outside with black corsets, or perhaps I have the colors wrong. Maybe it is black dresses with hunter green corsets. Hopefully, something in the catalogue I am sending will explain it properly.
“Mr. Purefoy,” she said, sighing, as the second course of dinner was served. “Women like to hear of such things. Tell her about parasols!”
Again, there was a lengthy description, given to me, of the latest from Paris. Something about heeled boots. Something about chapeaus, and I will admit that it took me a very long time to realize she was speaking about hats. Hats with short veils. I remember the bit about the veils.
Hyde smiled at me sympathetically from across the table and then said that perhaps Miss Campbell would not like to think of me ogling the dressing choices of other women. Which I can assure you does not happen, sweetest Eugenia, which can account for my needing to send fashion plates, rather than attempt to describe anything myself.
I would, however, like to assure you, that if you were here in Edinburgh, then I would most certainly ogle whatever your fashion decisions might be. I would not be able to help myself. You could be clad in burlap or you could be clad in silks. No matter. My ogling would be constant, and without regret.
Thursday night’s dinner was like heaven, full of good food and good company. Both Miss Whitcomb and her maid, Miss MacIntosh, were beside themselves with emotion at the thought of my being arrested. Miss MacIntosh openly wept, which caused Hyde to suggest that perhaps she should step outside the parlor and compose herself.
Miss MacIntosh recovered admirably, and both she and Miss Whitcomb listened raptly to Hyde’s retelling. I was in no mood to speak about it at all, but Hyde saw it as perfectly appropriate dinner conversation. Both the Mr. Whitcombs were fascinated, and they peppered Hyde’s accounting with a great variety of questions.
I was surprised to hear Hyde’s take on the matter, and relieved that I was able to do so while sitting at such a comfortable table in such nice surroundings. Hyde did much to expound upon my heroism, on my unwillingness to let the police frighten me into confessing a crime I had not committed. Miss MacIntosh was extremely vehement in her outrage over my treatment, and assured me, very earnestly, that no one who remained at Mitchell Boarding House considers me guilty in the slightest.
I was afraid that the terrible tale would agitate Miss Whitcomb, but she held up well. She was horrified that I had been released from my work with the Doctoral Council, but was thrilled that Hyde had seen fit to accept me as apprentice. To celebrate, she called for a special reserve brandy to be served after dinner was finished.
“A physician!” Miss MacIntosh gasped. “How wonderful that you are to be so employed, sir.”
I felt the same, and was instantly barraged by more questions from the Brothers Whitcomb. They wished to know how long an apprenticeship was required before I could sit the Boards. What was I to study? How would it be assured that I would be granted a fair exam?
Hyde answered for me. I will be ready when he says I am. I must learn all there is to know about everything (a daunting thought! I assure you, it is only Anatomy and General Surgery that are tested). And he said that I most certainly would be granted a fair exam, because his cousin, Mr. Gordon MacBean, is a member of the Chevalier Cabinet and would oversee the examining selection himself.
His cousin! The mysterious MacBean is Hyde’s cousin! Another puzzle piece of confusion fell into place!
Of course, my mind immediately headed down a rabbit trail, returning to the fact that Trantham and Hyde are two completely different surnames. Is one a MacBean? Is one a Hyde? A Trantham? Oh, how I wish I could ask, but at the moment I am victim to an immensely wonderful hospitality, and fearful of losing it entirely, should I cause offense by my infernal curiosity.
Upon my learning of Hyde’s familial ties to the Crown, I wonder why anyone questions the source of his elevated status. Of course Hyde is granted special privileges. His cousin is among the King’s personal advisors!
I do not know how familiar you are with the Chevalier Cabinet. It is extremely important here in Edinburgh, and I scarcely heard it mentioned while I was in the Highlands. It is a mysterious group, selected generations ago to serve as personal advisors, and some say, protectors, to the Scottish King. They have the King’s ear in all matters, and are to advise him on both foreign and domestic issues. The positions within the Cabinet are handed down, from generation to generation, so this power has been held within the hands of the same families without interruption.
A member of the Cabinet is without equal within Edinburgh. Their power is absol
ute. They are answerable directly to the King, who cares little for their day-to-day handlings of his matters. Some say that they are ruthless and corrupt, but I am keeping an open mind on the subject.
Due to my horrific week, in which my character was questioned without reason, I have decided to withhold judgment on anyone I have yet to meet. And I am acutely aware that MacBean was extremely influential in freeing me, and while I do not know what, precisely, he did at the Courts, I know that his involvement caused a terrific panic in both Detective Drummond and in Dr. MacDougal.
Before I get caught up in my own conversation, I wish to thank you for your incredible support of me, with regard to Mr. Banbury’s murder. Your sweet outrage, your fear that I was remaining at Mitchell’s place, pleased me greatly. Your concern strengthened me, even with the delay in the post. It assures me that, no matter the terror and horror, you are with me.
And that, Miss Eugenia, is the only important thing in my world.
I am anticipating the arrival of your portrait, and am glad that you were willing to sit for it. Your admonishment over my request that you smile made me laugh. I am very fond of your smile, but then again, I am fond of your serious expression as well. I anticipate “seeing” the mood you selected to display. Be assured that, once arrived, the portrait will sit proudly on my desk, or better yet, may be carried in my coat pocket, so that I might take you everyplace I go.
I have settled in very well here at Hyde’s town house, and am pleased to provide a little more description of my surroundings. The rooms are, as I have said, splendidly appointed. His tastes run to the extravagant, with rich carpets and massive pieces of furniture.
I have noticed an element of the Orient, here and there. There are carved figures of pagodas, arranged on the fireplace mantel in the downstairs parlor. There is a reed calendar hung in Hyde’s library, on which is painted the image of pandas frolicking amid a field of bamboo shoots. A long strand of paper lanterns is hung suspended through the trees in the tropical garden, which are lit at night by candles. And in our office . . .
Oh, yes. Our office.
I am smiling, anticipating your reaction to learn that our office is partially located in the strange tower affixed to Hyde’s roof. I say partially, because the majority of our working space is actually arranged on the bottommost floor of the house. But our observation room is in the tower, and Hyde says that it is often the most important tool for our work.
This room, located in the battlemented tower, is actually a camera obscura. Through a series of mirrors and glass lenses, a telescopic capability is made possible. Hyde has yet to explain the exact mechanism to me, but suffice it to say, there is a periscope-styled viewing tube housed within the tower room. This periscope can be turned in every direction. Mirrors and lenses capture the scene outside, be it sky or street, and then reflect them onto the surface of a smooth worktable, arranged in the center of the room.
It is truly an amazing construct, and one that caused even Hyde to display a rare excitement. The periscope is a long brass tube, shooting up to the domed ceiling. The viewing screen is a brass fixture attached at the end of the scope, against which one rests one’s brow. Brass handles are affixed at either side, and when one stares through the screen, the handles may be used to turn the contraption to the desired angle and degree.
We began by looking at the street scene before Hyde’s town house. I watched the image of a carriage driving by, moving fantastically across the table. Hyde, at the periscope, then muttered for me to “observe this,” then rapidly used his hands to twist the periscope’s handles.
The image of Auld Toon filled the tabletop. It sharpened and shifted, and I was stunned to see the facade of Hay’s Bookshop.
How was this possible? At such a great distance? I was further stunned when Hyde showed me the image of familiar, narrow closes. I could see the endless pedestrian traffic. I could see their expressions.
This was amazing. Fantastic. I wondered aloud how he could manage to see such detail at such incredible distance, but Hyde was loathe to divulge his secrets. He told me only that a great deal of knowledge stemmed from being aware of one’s surroundings. I simply had no idea he meant that literally.
Nonetheless, our daily routine has changed. Now we usually begin it in the tower. We drink coffee (he imbibes whisky, as usual) and scan the streets, both in New Town and Auld.
Hyde seems to be looking for something, but when I ask, he simply informs me that he will know it when he sees it. It is difficult to be helpful with such strange instructions, but I am fascinated, nonetheless. I spend my morning session looking for anything out of the ordinary, which seems the best handling of Hyde’s unusual demand.
It seems that Hyde has always kept an office at home, and had only retained the Doctoral space because he enjoyed irritating MacDougal by never making use of it. I argued that Hyde had been at that office every day that I had been present, but Hyde informed me that he had only come in to ensure that I was not torching the place with my own ineptitude.
But, I digress. Our offices are indeed located on the bottom floor of the town house. All furnishings from the Doctoral space have been added, everything slid into place as if it had been there forever. The movers simply set things amid the furniture that was already waiting, and it was as if we have been working here, uninterrupted, forever.
Amazingly, and in spite of all of Hyde’s rudeness, I have been awarded my own office, adjacent to his. I have a desk there, and my old worktable. All of your father’s things look splendid on my bookshelf, arranged near a small fireplace. It is so grand, so unexpected, that I could scarcely contain my grateful enthusiasm.
Which only served to annoy Hyde, who said that he could now work in peace, without being constantly irritated by my presence.
There is even a sort of operating theatre set up, although it is more of an operating room. Hyde still intends to accept research cadavers, and has decreed that the furnishings remain permanently in place. How nice it is, to not have to clean up one’s work to make room for other physicians. So many times, at the other office, in the other theatre, I would have to hurry and whisk away our tables and such, due to another doctor requiring the space.
There is an examining table here. Several worktables, as well as comfortable chairs. Hyde also keeps the Steambox in this room, usually locked in a cabinet, although there is a queer little table to support it, kept near the examining bed. He also has such a storehouse of various herbs and medicines, displayed on shelves lining the wall, that I feel as if I am apprenticed to an apothecary. Everywhere there are glass bottles, labeled neatly, and containing such an array of oils and herbs.
It is in this operating room that he keeps his vials and gas burners. Hyde is always concocting something, and he has usefully arranged his cauldrons and such near the medicinal shelves. There are clockwork pieces littering the table, things he is currently working on, or at least, intends to. There are substances kept at a low boil on burners. There are gadgets and bits everywhere, enough to inspire curiosity. There are microscopes and gauges.
But, I know Hyde well enough to ignore all that. I concentrate on the medicines. Always before, we kept such herbs in our own office, and I was constantly running to and fro from the Theatre to fetch what was needed. The convenience of having our store within the same room in which we are working is so great that I wonder why we did not move offices long ago.
Of course, it is beyond luxurious to simply wake in the morning, and then, after partaking of a hearty breakfast, to simply walk upstairs to my work. There is no longer a cold walk down a narrow street. No need to stop at my favorite coffee stall (although Hyde sees to it that a full pot is brought to our work space). I do not have to bundle up to face the bitter wind, only to cross the threshold of a truly unwelcoming employment.
Hyde may be ferocious to deal with, in respect to his dark moods, but as I have
said before, his behavior is understandable and predictable to me. I still arrange for whisky to be waiting for him in the morning, in the observing tower. I usually keep to my office, and let him keep to his. When we meet in the operating room, I revert to my usual pattern of remaining silent, concentrating on my tasks at hand.
Really, I am so busy that there is very little free time with which to bother Hyde. I am reading voraciously through the notes and journals Hyde has given me. I have made tremendous headway through the Anatomy text. Constantly, I am scribbling down my own notes, determined to form my own studying guides.
And still, I am avidly searching for a cure, any cure, for the poor Miss Whitcomb.
Before leaving the Doctoral offices, Hyde and I had made a great dent in our borrowed tomes from MacDougal. I was disappointed that our vacancy would result in losing that much-needed knowledge, but I should not have worried. Hyde is not easily thwarted in a project, especially one that involves the health of his Miss Whitcomb.
Still, you can imagine my surprise to find a strange trunk awaiting me in my new office. It was set on the middle of my desk. Curious, I opened it and was dismayed to see that it was filled, completely, with the remaining MacDougal texts we had yet to peruse.
Hyde had missed nothing, and I shifted through them with a loud sigh. I only hoped that he had filled MacDougal’s shelves with other books. I hoped then that MacDougal was blind enough to not notice a surplus of dictionaries. The idea of being a thief held little appeal, what with the week I had just endured.
I wondered how Hyde had gotten himself into the office, and wondered again how he had managed to carry such a heavy trunk by himself. And then I decided that perhaps it was better if I did not know the details. The truth is, MacDougal is a very bad man who is unwilling to help a very fine lady. I wish I felt guilty over the continued and secret borrowing, but I do not.
The Curious Steambox Affair Page 20
