Twelfth Night at Eyre Hall (10 page)

In order to save you an
unnecessary journey all the way down to London, to visit our humble abode, I
would like to offer you the unfortunate information I have regarding the child
you asked about in your letter.

The baby girl arrived in London with
a wet nurse and a letter from my brother–in–law asking me to find a suitable
family, as she belonged to an unmarried lady whose family wished to avoid a
scandal.

I used to receive many such
children for whom my husband and I found suitable, well–accommodated families
who desired a child. We are no longer engaged in this unhappy business.

Unfortunately, on the occasion you
enquire about, the child died shortly after arriving. She was not suited to
city life and contracted whooping cough. We brought in a doctor, but to no
avail. She was not the only one. Several babies perished that week. It was a
sad event for us and for the families who were expecting the babies. I will
never forget it.

I never mentioned the death to my
brother–in–law because he never asked. I had supposed that the wet nurse might
have informed him on her return. In any case, we have never seen each other
again due to a family dispute. Sad as it is, the rift cannot be repaired. I
never wish to see Dr. Carter or any of his family again.

I regret not being able to offer
you better news, madam, but I am sure the little angel is in heaven, looking
after her poor unfortunate mother, whoever she may be.

Yours,

Mrs. Emily Banks.      

“What is the matter, Michael?”

“I am not sure why, but there is
something that bothers me.”

“What is it?”

He was silent, avoiding eye contact.
“Michael, tell me.”

He sighed and stroked my face. “I
promise I will find Helen. I’ll leave tomorrow morning, and I should be back by
Twelfth Night.”

“Excuse me, Mrs. Mason,” Simon stood at
the door. “Dr. Carter has arrived. He is with Nell, madam. What time would you
like me to serve lunch?”

“As soon as Doctor Carter is ready. Dr.
Carter and Lieutenant Kirkpatrick will be staying for lunch too, Simon.”

He nodded. “Yes, madam,” he said, and
left.

 “Perhaps I should leave, Jane.”

“Please stay, Michael. I want to speak
to Dante, Annette, and Susan; you should be present, too. I would also like you
to meet young Dr. Carter. You will like him. He is most unlike his father.”

***

I was surprised to see my brother walk
into the dining room with Mrs. Mason and another young man I had never met.

“I have asked Lieutenant Kirkpatrick and
Dr. Carter to stay to lunch. I hope you don’t mind. Lieutenant Kirkpatrick is
Susan’s only relative. I would like to introduce you to the young Dr. Carter,
son of the late Dr. Carter with whom you were all acquainted. I hope you will
all feel safe and at ease in his presence. Our conversations today are
confidential. I trust Dr. Carter, completely. He has saved my life, more than
once so far.”

“I was glad to be of service and do my
job, Mrs. Mason. I am very pleased to meet you all, except Miss Mason whom I
have already had the pleasure of meeting.”

We all shook hands and exchanged
pleasantries before sitting down to the meal, which was served by Simon and
Beth.

When we finished Cook’s delicious
mushroom soup, Jane said we could start the discussion before the roast
pheasant was brought up.

“Lieutenant Kirkpatrick, would you like
to address Mr. Greenwood?”

“I would like to ask Mr. Dante Greenwood
about his intentions regarding my sister.”

“Lieutenant Kirkpatrick, I am honoured
and delighted to make your acquaintance at last, although I almost feel I know
you. Susan has spoken so much and so highly of you. I would like to ask you, as
her only male relative, for permission to marry Susan as soon as possible.”

“I have no objections if Susan agrees.”

All eyes faced me and I suddenly felt
uncomfortable and ashamed of my condition. “I would very much like to be
married to Dante Greenwood.”

“Have you any objection, Annette?” asked
Jane, and my heart skipped a beat.

“I wish Susan and Dante a blessed union
and happiness.” She looked at us both smugly, as if she had given us permission
to marry. I looked at her exquisite face, her thick ebony hair and perfect
ivory skin, her rich satin robe that covered her slender figure, and her lavish,
colourful jewellery, which highlighted her wealth and beauty. I wondered if
Dante would have married me if I were not with child. I had nothing to offer,
save my baby. All the good looks had gone to Michael. I was shorter and
slighter. My mousey brown hair and sallow skin were unremarkable, and my
clothes were plain.

I was sitting on Jane’s right with my
hands firmly on my lap. She moved towards me, clasping my hands and said,
“Congratulations, Susan. This must be a very happy moment for you.” Then she
turned to Dante. “And you Dante, are a very lucky man. I hope you will be an
honest and caring husband.”

“I will strive to make Susan the
happiest wife in England, Mrs. Mason.”

Simon served the carved pheasant and we
passed around the gravy boat with rich brown sauce, which was Cook’s
speciality. Beth served the carrots, peas and beans in butter sauce. It was
indeed a feast, and I was feeling unusually hungry. We all dug into the meal
and silence ensued. Michael was sitting at the end of the table facing Mrs.
Mason. He looked so handsome in his navy blue uniform, epaulettes and buttons
glittering across the table. The deceitful Mrs. Mason could not keep her eyes
off my youthful, fine–looking brother. I hoped he would not fall under her
spell again, but it seemed inevitable.

“Simon, please tell Cook that the pheasant
was delicious and wait a few minutes before you bring up the apple pie.”

Jane addressed my betrothed. “Dante, may
I ask you where you plan to live and how you plan to keep your new family?”

“We would like to move to London. I have
a house I inherited from my mother, in Camberwell, although my father refuses
to accept my grandfather’s legacy, but I am determined to approach him and
claim my birthright. I have sent a collection of paintings to the Royal Academy
in the hope that they will be exhibited. I would wish for an apprenticeship.”  

 “That sounds like a very good idea,
Dante. My editor, Mr. Spencer, is a member of the Arts Club, which has some
influence with The Royal Academy's governing council. I shall make sure he is
informed of our support for your application.”

“I am honoured, Mrs. Mason. Thank you.”

    The apple pie was so delicious that
I had two helpings with hot creamy custard. I wondered dismally how I would
manage my household with a meagre income and hardly any knowledge of cooking or
housekeeping.

“Do you think I could work in London,
Mrs. Mason?” I asked.

“I should think you will have enough
work looking after your new house and family on your own, Susan. You may not be
able to employ any servants at first, unless Adele and Mr. Greenwood could
offer you one of their maids, at least a few days a week.”

She must have noticed my distress,
because she quickly added, “Don’t worry, Susan. I have no doubt Adele will be
of great assistance to you, once she overcomes the initial surprise. A
grandchild is such a cherished addition to any family. Mr. Greenwood will
eventually be impatient to dote on his grandson or granddaughter, I am sure.”

  After lunch, Mrs. Mason asked us to
continue our conversation in the drawing room. Simon served brandy to the men
and Madeira to the ladies, and we all sat around the fireplace.

 “We are very fortunate to have you here
on the Rochester Estate, Dr. Carter. Are you employed by any medical
institution?” asked Annette.

“I have some private patients to whom I
make house calls, and on Mondays I have a small private surgery in Hay, where
local villagers pay a small fee, if they can afford it. I am also Assistant
Physician at Millcote Hospital two days a week.”  

“Would you like to stay in the area?”

“I cannot leave my mother alone at
Ferndean, the manor house Mrs. Mason so generously leased to my father, but in
the future, I may move back to London to practice at a large hospital.”

“Would you not like to make your living
in this area?” Annette seemed unusually curious.

“Initially, I returned to help my mother
look after my father who passed away last winter. I have taken over many of his
patients, but not all. It is not always easy to persuade patients of new
methods. My father was a great believer in the virtues of mercury, opiates, leeching,
and liquid diets, for example, and my methods, as Mrs. Mason is aware, are more
modern. Some patients are adverse to my suggestions and prefer other practitioners,
some of whom are often unlicensed.”

“Did you not agree with your father’s
methods, Dr. Carter?” I asked.

“My father was a respectable and hard–working
doctor all his life, Miss Kirkpatrick. He had been apprenticed to an apothecary,
thus his belief in the power of drugs in curing disease. He nevertheless
instilled in me a love of biology and an interest in science, and I was
fortunate enough to have started my medical education at Oxford, although I
moved to London to complete my studies at St. Thomas’s Hospital Medical School.
When I was awarded my licence, I had the privilege of working as dresser to Dr.
Jansen, a reputable surgeon at the hospital.”

“Are doctors at the hospital in Millcote
not as well trained as Dr. Jansen?” asked Annette.

“Dr. Jansen has worked extensively in
France. Parisian hospitals are the most modern in the world, mainly due to post–mortem
examinations of diseased patients. Many physicians in Britain are opposed to these
kinds of practices because they are considered sacrilegious, however, nowadays
corpses are legally available for dissection.”

“Surely it cannot be considered
Christian, although it is legal, Dr. Carter? Our bodies are sacred, even after
death. They belong to our Lord.” I was unable to accept any justification for
the mutilation of a Christian body.

“I believe our Lord would like to help doctors
save as many patients as possible. Medical professionals respectfully carry out
post–mortem examinations, and the bodies are later buried, as their families
would wish. I assure you as a man of science, Miss Kirkpatrick, that it is the
only way to understand disease and pave the way to find new remedies, which
will help those who are still alive. If we are to convert hospitals from places
of dying to places of healing, we must investigate with human bodies.”

“I am in favour of your more modern
methods, Dr. Carter,” said Mrs. Mason. “I have experienced myself how rest and
four square meals a day are better than opiates and liquid diets. I was never
in favour of leeching, although your father often carried out this practice on
Mr. Rochester. I am sure our Lord would not be adverse to doctors respectfully
dissecting corpses, which will later be buried. We are indeed fortunate to have
Dr. Carter practising in this area.”

 “Although I am now working as a general
practitioner, my aim is to specialise in one area of medicine.”

 “Which area would you like to specialise
in, Dr. Carter?” Mrs. Mason asked.

“I am interested in two areas of
specialisation; forensics and obstetrics.”

“Please tell us why.”

 “Obstetrics because I should like to
contribute to the reduction in childbirth mortality of both children and
mothers, which is too high in our country. On the other hand, while I was at
St. Thomas’ an unfortunate criminal investigation took place, with the
intervention of forensics from Scotland Yard. It was a fascinating experience.”

“Which kind of illnesses were most
frequent at St. Thomas’?” I asked.

“Much the same as in Millcote,
unfortunately, Smallpox, consumption, cholera, and syphilis.”

“How dreadful. Is it not depressing to
be surrounded by pain and illness, Dr. Carter?” Annette asked.

“It is not pleasant to watch people die,
however, on many occasions, the patients recover and I experience great
satisfaction. I am succeeding in lowering the death rate of children at
Millcote hospital by promoting the new methods taught to me by the tireless and
incomparable Miss Florence Nightingale. Have you heard of her?”

We all nodded with vacant looks, so the
enthusiastic and rather boring doctor spoke on. “Miss Nightingale is a nurse
who believes in keeping the air clean, as well as the careful cleaning of
utensils, bedding, and hands. Her patients have fewer infections and more
chance of survival. I am trying to convince the doctors at Millcote to use
carbolic acid as an antiseptic, as the famous Dr. Lister proposes, with wounds
and surgical equipment.”

“How fascinating, Dr. Carter. We are
fortunate to have you in this part of the country. I sincerely hope you will
stay with us. Your father must have been very proud of you,” said Mrs. Mason.

“My parents made great sacrifices so
that I could study at medical colleges. Tuition, books, and board and lodgings were
very expensive indeed. Fortunately, I was lodged with my aunt, in Southwark. She
lived a stone’s throw from the hospital. When I was awarded my licence, I moved
away to private lodgings.”

I saw Michael shoot a look of disquiet at
Jane who turned to the doctor. “Your aunt Mrs. Banks?”

“Yes, Emily Banks, my mother’s sister. A
loving and generous soul. She had four daughters. She used to pamper me and say
I was the son she never had. Did you ever meet her, Mrs. Mason?”

“Not exactly, but your father did
mention her. Do you ever visit her?”

“I’m afraid Aunt Emily died almost two
years ago, and I have not seen my cousins since my father’s funeral last year.”

Mrs. Mason’s face turned white and my
brother jumped towards the cabinet, poured some water from the decanter and
handed her the glass. She shook her head. “Would you prefer some tea, Mrs.
Mason?” he asked.

Mrs. Mason was still stunned, although
none of us understood why. Michael shocked us all by bringing the glass to her
lips and saying, “Please drink some water, Jane,” but instead she looked at him
and whispered, “Michael,” and closed her eyes.

Dr. Carter rushed towards her. “Let me
take your pulse, Mrs. Mason.”
He held her wrist
and took out his chain watch to count the beats. “It’s too fast. Do you feel
unwell?”

“I feel dizzy and warm,” she mumbled.

“Could you open the window, Lieutenant,
and we’ll take her nearby so that she can breathe some fresh air.”

Michael opened the latch, threw open the
latticed pane, and pulled over an armchair, as Dante and Dr. Carter brought her
to the window. Annette took a Spanish fan from a drawer and shook it near her
face anxiously, and the doctor took her pulse once more. My brother stood
behind her dotingly, with his hands gripping her shoulders.

I disliked her capricious and moody
character, which had so obviously bewitched my naïve brother yet again. I was
grateful for her help, but I suspected her motivation was to trap poor Michael
in her dishonest web. I hated myself for giving her the excuse for taking
advantage of him, and hoped he would realise she was just using him as an
amusement, once more. 

“Mrs. Mason, how are you feeling, now?” asked
the young doctor with a furrowed brow.

She smiled. “Much better, thank you.”