The Poison Thread
Page 34
She bursts into tears.
Leisurely, I descend the steps, follow the footmen to the library. They do not notice me in their haste.
‘A physician!’ Granger calls. ‘Run for a physician.’
Papa is slumped in his chair. They have pulled him back from the desk, tilted his head up, tried to loosen his cravat and collar. Useless. Red burn marks circle his neck. Blood vessels have burst beneath his skin and in his eyes; he is a curious shade of grey-blue.
‘Good heavens!’ I cry. ‘However can this be? He looks as if he were hanged!’
On the desk, the brown paper parcel lies open. Ruth’s handkerchief is still clutched in his rigid hand. A corner flaps over his fingers; I see it in flashes as the servants bustle around him.
Woven in black hair, the letter R.
Acknowledgements
I would like to express my heartfelt thanks to everyone who has made this edition of the book possible. My agent, Juliet Mushens, and Sarah Stein for helping me come up with a new title for the American market. The lovely team at Penguin for all their hard work, particularly my editor, Victoria Savanh, and Kristina Fazzalaro and Louise Braverman in publicity.
On the personal front, a huge round of applause to my family and friends for supporting me through another year of author neurosis, in particular my husband Kevin, who always rescues me from the coal hole. Special thanks go to Louise Denyer for naming Wilkie the canary in a suitably Victorian manner.
I would like to give a mention to Jennifer Rosbrugh, whose online historical sewing class provided me with the theoretical knowledge of how to make a corded corset, even though I wasn’t brave enough to try the practical side! Also to Alison Matthews David for including a wealth of useful information in her wonderful book Fashion Victims, including the real life inspiration for what happened to Rosalind Oldacre.
Dorothea’s particular brand of phrenology is based on The Self-Instructor in Phrenology and Physiology by O.S. and L.N. Fowler, with elements of Vaught’s Practical Character Reader. An excellent overview of the subject can be found at http://www.historyofphrenology.org.uk.
Finally, I would ask you to spare a thought for thirteen-year-old milliner’s apprentice Ann Nailor, whose real death in 1758 at the hands of a mother and daughter both named Sarah Metyard inspired Miriam’s story. Details of her case are on record in the Proceedings of the Old Bailey.
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