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- Herausgeber: Allison & Busby
- Kategorie: Krimi
- Sprache: Englisch
- Veröffentlichungsjahr: 2024
Winner of the Caledonia Novel Award A shiver thrilled my spine at the thought of what might be contained in collections to be kept away from ordinary eyes ... London, 1873. Madeleine Brewster's marriage to Dr Lucius Everley was meant to be the solution to her family's sullied reputation. After all, Lucius is a well-respected collector of natural curiosities. His 'Small Museum' of bones and specimens in jars is his pride and joy, although firmly kept under lock and key. His sister Grace's philanthropic work with fallen women is also highly laudable, at first glance. However, Maddie soon finds herself unwelcome in what is meant to be her new home. The more she learns about both Lucius and Grace, the more she suspects that unimaginable horrors lie behind their polished reputations. Framed for a crime that would take her to the gallows and leave the Everleys free to continue their dark schemes, Maddie's only hope is her friend Caroline. She will do anything to prove Maddie's innocence before the trial reaches its fatal conclusion.
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3
THE SMALL MUSEUM
JODY COOKSLEY
45
For my sister, Jacqui
Dear you should not stay so late
Twilight is not good for maidens;
Should not loiter in the glen
In the haunts of goblin men.
‘Goblin Market’, Christina Rosetti
Contents
Exhibit 1
Grey stone female figurine. Hellenic. Catalogued 1873.
Our wedding was cold and silent, unmarked by flowers or hymns. Pity no choir drowned the noise of my sister. Isabel had no right to cry. She’d done nothing to save me and now her weeping echoed round the chapel and tore at my nerves. I gripped Father’s arm, feeling the darned patch in his suit, and watched the congregation through watery eyes. In the left pews sat as many family shreds as Mother could gather at short notice, overdressed in country finery. On Dr Everley’s side was a group of suited men, and a woman in a beautiful emerald dress with mourning bands. She couldn’t help those, but surely everyone knew green brought brides bad luck? A wide-brimmed hat hid her face from view; a fox stole clawed across her shoulders.
Mother beamed so brightly I felt ashamed. She had no need to pretend we were happy, everyone in the church knew my duty – a respectable marriage to heal our past. Isabel was quick enough to explain. What chance of escape, for either of us, if you refuse? So why was she crying? Not for me. Mother ignored her, turning to wave at the aunts like a duchess at a coronation, and Isabel snivelled into her handkerchief, throwing sideways looks at my shoes. Pale blue kid with two rows of buttons and heels that clicked when I 8walked. They were all that felt beautiful. Shoes for a lady, Mother had sighed as the cobblers boxed them up and Isabel sulked for a day. She was welcome to walk in them now.
My veil was the ‘something old’. A gift from Grandmother, delivered in a package of waxed paper stretched thin as her lips.
An heirloom meant for three sisters, was all she said but I knew she blamed Mother for Rebecca’s disgrace. She blamed her for this too, saying things about Dr Everley that made me anxious. Hinting at darkness. Father’s friendship with Dr Everley was shrouded in stage smoke, yet now I must promise to honour him, and all Mother said was that I should be glad he wasn’t ugly. He was tall, sword-slim, with just a streak of grey hair at his temple.
Through Grandmother’s fine lace I saw high cheekbones, eyes dark as tombs and deep lines around his mouth as though everything displeased him. Would marriage make him happy? He had certainly seemed keen, arranging things so quickly we’d barely had time to talk. I swallowed hard. As Mother said, I was to be wed, and I should make the best of it.
Paintings flanked the altar, crowding the wall. Gilded frames around the lives of saints. Symeon in his cave, Sebastian shot with arrows. The artist seemed especially to relish the sufferance of holy women. Devoted Agatha on fire; Felicity torn to pieces by wild animals; and Perpetua herself, so great a woman she could not be slain unless she herself willed it. When the service ended, Dr Everley took my hand and I recoiled at his icy touch. He didn’t lift the veil to kiss me. All along the aisle, one arm in the crook of his, the other aching from the weight of my bouquet, I imagined Perpetua and willed myself not to be slain. 9
At least there would be music at the reception. We came directly from the church, in two coaches which, to Mother’s delight, both bore the Everley crest.
‘Will there be dancing?’ Isabel indicated the string quartet setting up in the corner.
I shook my head, embarrassed. Who could imagine Dr Everley dancing? He was a man of letters, too clever for amusements. Father said his research was gaining attention, perhaps notoriety, and I always pictured him in a library. ‘Dr Everley’s a serious man.’
‘But he’s a gentleman. You’ll do alright here.’ Isabel surveyed the room, devouring details for Mother when they returned home and left me. ‘Those colours!’
‘This isn’t his house.’ I would not give her the satisfaction of admitting it was beautiful. Watered silk dressed the walls in shimmering tangerine and the furniture was covered to match, low ottomans and broad-backed chairs in intimate groups. Small dark-wood tables waited to hold drinks and cigars. ‘He may live in a perfect hovel for all we know. I’m sure Mother forgot to request the details in her haste to see me off.’ I should have been trying to lift Isabel’s spirits, but I had no patience for such foolish talk. What did orange walls matter? My life was ripped apart.
‘Father’s been to his house.’
‘His clinic.’ I couldn’t imagine them as equals. Father had barely a fee-paying patient left. ‘You know Brewsters aren’t welcome in respectable places.’ I turned away too late to avoid the hurt in her face.
‘Don’t you want to be happy? You’ll want for nothing now.’
‘I wanted nothing before.’ Why should everyone’s fate rest in my hands? Isabel and the boys could look forward to the summer at Lynton and I would have enjoyed it more than any of them. It was never me who resented the creeping shame after Rebecca left, 10the lack of invitations, all the parties and picnics we missed. Lynton would have been enough for me. Walking the dogs in the coppice, taking my sketchbook, or setting my easel in the orchards. The scent of long grass and ripe apples. No-one to watch or admonish. No responsibilities. Before Dr Everley came, I was free as the swifts that returned in spring. As free as my brothers to sketch and draw all day. Afterwards I was made to wear dresses that caught on branches, hair dressed and fussed until my scalp ached. Mother closed my sketchbooks and balanced them on my head, training me to stand tall and walk without them falling. She dismissed my careful notes and drawings as ‘showing off’, and I bit my lip until it bled.
Isabel sighed. ‘You’ll have a house. A London address! And people to call. Your husband will be respected. You can stop worrying that you’ll die before you live.’
‘I’ve never worried about that.’ I frowned. Mother threw a sharp look from the buffet table and my heart sank as she bore down on us, a full plate in one hand, the other pulling at her too-tight gown.
‘For heaven’s sake, Madeleine, stop looking so miserable. You’re as far from a blushing bride as it’s possible to be! You don’t want Dr Everley changing his mind.’
‘It would be a little late if he did.’
‘You think he will like sarcasm? You’re lucky to be taken at all.’
I tried to smile before she moved off to seize Aunt Honour. No use parting on bad terms; I would miss them soon enough. I turned to Isabel. ‘You’ll come to stay, won’t you? As soon as you can.’ I could not imagine life without them.
‘You’ll need to ask permission for that now.’ Isabel looked across at Dr Everley, deep in conversation with an elaborately whiskered man. She sighed again. ‘Perhaps your new husband will want you all to himself.’ 11
‘Lucius is not such a selfish man.’ The woman in the wide-veiled hat extended her hand and I pressed it, hit by an overpowering scent of roses and something sickly that I couldn’t place. My cheeks burnt to think what she’d overheard. Such striking looks, with amber eyes and deep-red hair set off by the green of her gown. The fox on her shoulders bared sharp white teeth.
‘Delighted to meet you, dear sister. Lucius has told me so little about you that I feared I would guess all wrong. But you’re perfect. So young. So pretty.’ Said with the confidence of one who knows her own appearance is unrivalled. ‘I’ll visit as soon as you’re settled. Do you like children? I could bring them, ghastly as they are. But we might better get to know each other if I leave them with Nurse.’ She paused, throwing her hair back over one shoulder. ‘But I mustn’t put you off. Lucius adores children.’
Dr Everley – I must try to call him Lucius – had told me very little. We had only walked together once, talking mostly of his work. I learnt about his expertise in bone-setting and the method by which his father cured a royal child of club foot. Yet I knew nothing of his family.
Isabel dropped an awkward curtsey and the woman turned, clasping her hands together in a dramatic gesture.
‘You must be dear Madeleine’s true sister; you look so very alike. I am Lucius’s sister, Grace. I hope you don’t mind me stealing her? I only had Lucius, and I have always longed for a sister of my own.’
‘We have brothers too. We know very well how they can be,’ I said, trying to cover my surprise. A new sister, just as beautiful as Rebecca.
‘Are they also doctors?’ She looked around as though trying to identify them, her lip curling slightly at the sight of Mother 12clinking glasses. ‘I hope not, for your sake. So dreary always being called to watch Lucius’s scientific experiments. Frogs and fireworks.’ She raised her hand as if to brush their childhood away, but her eyes shone. They must be very close.
‘They’re still in school. Younger than us, but even younger brothers can be demanding. James would like to travel; he’s keen on India. I think he’ll make a fine businessman one day.’ I pointed at my brother who was trying to balance one more cake on an overloaded plate. I felt a surge of love and sympathy. Perhaps it would now be in my power to help him make his way in the world.
‘He’s remarkably young, but then you,’ she looked me up and down, ‘are remarkably young also. Don’t expect too much of my brother and perhaps you’ll be happy together.’ She continued to hold me in her steady gaze.
I nodded, unsure what she meant. What was too much to expect? I felt silly; a child dressed up as a bride. We waited warily until Isabel blurted out, ‘Your gown is so beautiful.’
Grace turned her attention. ‘I did worry that its colour might offend you. I know that country folk can sometimes be … superstitious in believing that green will bring bad luck to a wedding, but it’s new and I so wanted to wear it and I can see that you two, at least, are not the type.’
Isabel opened her mouth, and I threw her a warning glance.
‘Perhaps a cup of tea?’ Grace perched on the edge of a small love seat and smoothed her dress, watching Isabel rush to obey. She was clearly used to people doing as she asked.
‘Sweet thing,’ she said. ‘And you have another sister, I believe? But she … can’t be here?’
I nodded, turning my head so my face would not betray me, though I could feel the way she watched. 13
‘Perhaps that is why the rest of your family came? I understood Lucius asked for a quiet ceremony.’
‘Mother is fond of a gathering.’
‘So I see. And how do you like our little part of London?’ She leant in, expectant. The fox’s eyes glinted orange.
What I’d seen from the carriage couldn’t have been more different to the market towns and villages of Cheshire. So many tall buildings, so many strangers. ‘The streets are very wide,’ I said, instantly wishing I’d thought of something clever.
‘You’ve never visited before?’
She must think me naïve. Isabel’s return interrupted the need for an answer. If my hand shook slightly as I accepted the teacup, if her fingers gripped the saucer a little too fiercely, then both of us worked hard not to show it.
By the time our party left, the sky was darkening to black. Rain drizzled down. Gas lamps blurred in the mist, so the street seemed viewed through tears. Yet London was alive as day, thick with walking couples and costers in bright coats, gentlemen calling from their carriage to be let down at the very door we were leaving through to go home. Lucius grabbed my arm and steered me away, almost pushing me inside the carriage.
‘I’m sorry they took so long.’ I leant against the window, tired from attention and long farewells, and rubbed my sleeve where his fingers had pressed too firmly.
‘You’d think they’d want to get home. It’s a long enough drive.’
‘James said if Thursday’s weather was good there’d be a picnic by the pack bridge.’
‘Indeed,’ Lucius replied.
His disinterest in my family was plain. Why would he care? But the thought of them all together dried my throat and I found 14nothing else to say. Mother had probably organised the picnic to campaign her social return. James planned to try painting the bridge, he promised to send me the picture, though he was a boy and would forget. They would all carry on just as well without me. I could write and remind him, ask him to post my paints. I wish I’d thought to pack them, though I wasn’t sure there’d be enough grey to paint London. Perhaps it would seem less miserable in daylight.
We travelled in silence until the carriage rolled to a halt at the centre of a long, curved street. Houses all pushed together with no room to breathe. Arlington Crescent had grey-brick buildings, patterned with sandstone, and lidded with slate tiles that gathered like frowns over the eaves. Lucius took my arm to help me down and led me to a flight of worn stone steps, railed with iron. Number five had huge windows and white shutters, a shiny black front door. Elegant, Mother would declare. It looked unfriendly and I longed for the thatched roof and sprawling lawns of Lynton. Two more rows of windows glared under the low hanging roof. How many servants could a single man need? How many would I have to manage? There was only Ellen at home.
‘Good evening, sir.’ The sudden deep voice was startling. ‘Good evening, madam.’ Standing in the darkness was an old man, his back slightly crooked, the tails of his black coat hanging to his knees. A strange smell emanated through the open doorway. Sweet and rotten, like forgotten flowers long dead in their urn.
‘Evening, Barker. Take the bags, would you? And have Mrs Barker show my wife to her rooms, make sure she’s comfortable.’ He turned to me with his sister’s air of assurance. ‘It’s been a long day and I’m sure you’ll wish to retire. I rise early for work, but the Barkers will see that you have what you need.’ Holding out his 15hand, he reached towards me and then seemed to think better of it. ‘I’ll take my brandy in the study.’
I wanted to keep him there, to apologise for the guests, the noise of the wedding. He was a quiet man, and I would have liked him to realise that I understood him. But he didn’t wait, and Mrs Barker was already sailing down the passage, her black dress scratching against the walls.
Half the night I waited for steps in the corridor. They all told me – Mother, my cousins, even Grandmother – that he would come whatever happened, that men would always come. They described things I only half believed. Cradled in the stiff four-poster bed I waited, at first with the curtains tightly drawn and then, when I couldn’t stand wondering if he’d come in unseen, with them hanging half open again. I sat upright as a statue, a stone figure, stiff with waiting, until I drifted in and out of fitful sleep, dreaming of some unknown thing that followed close behind me, only to disappear as I turned.
2
Great Marlborough Street Public Office
‘Am I to understand that she killed her own child?’ The magistrate sounded bored, as though he dealt with such things every day and they never troubled his sleep. He spoke slowly, precisely, his head resting delicately on his left arm, while the right smoothed a sheaf of papers on his desk.
‘Yes. Sir.’ Mrs Atherton added the title as though she would rather not, and patted her hat. I’d never seen her in daylight, and she looked different without jewels. She was still beautiful. More so, perhaps, her colouring enhanced by the simplicity of her grey dress.
‘Was there anything in Mrs Everley’s behaviour, or manner, prior to this that might lead you to believe she was capable of such a thing?’
The magistrate motioned to a scribe and handed over the papers before turning his full attention to the witness stand. Court life had given him an ashen complexion and pouches of skin gathered beneath his eyes. How many horrors had he judged?
‘There were several … incidents.’
Silence hung in the waiting room.
‘Continue, Mrs Atherton.’ The magistrate waved his hand. ‘This office must take everything into consideration before deciding how to proceed.’ 17
‘My sister-in-law was awkward with my children. She behaved strangely around them, as though she couldn’t bear to have them near her.’
‘What age are your children, Mrs Atherton?’
‘Six and ten years. A girl and two boys. Twins.’
‘Did Mrs Everley have a good relationship with them?’
Grace bowed her head demurely and her lashes threw long shadows across her cheeks. She appeared to be a perfect society mother.
‘She’s the wife of my brother. When he married, I brought my babies to visit, of course, so that they would know their only aunt. I had hoped they would love one another.’ She glanced up at the viewing gallery and, for a brief moment, our eyes locked. I hoped she could see what I thought of her act. Maddie always suspected she had something to hide. If poor Maddie had asked for my help, we might never have ended up here. I wished she had trusted my friendship more and I willed Mrs Atherton to falter, but she was perfectly calm. ‘I’m sorry to say that she didn’t take to them. She seemed almost afraid to be close to them. I remember one incident where she deliberately knocked Eloise from her chair and then tried to blame Edmond. Poor girl was quite hurt. Madeleine showed no concern at all.’
‘Was Mrs Everley ever alone with the children?’
Grace looked horror-struck. Her right arm hovered across her heart. What an actress.
‘I would never have left Madeleine alone with them. Goodness knows what might have happened. Another time she pushed Edmond, quite violently, in front of an open window. I’m sure she meant harm.’
‘Do you have anything further to add?’
‘She wandered. All the time. Up and down the corridors in the night. And she slept at strange hours of the day too, often going 18to bed in the afternoon. My brother said she sleepwalked. But she always seemed awake when we encountered her. It was as though she used restlessness as an excuse for being all over the house.’
Why did she need an excuse for being all over her own house? Why didn’t the magistrate ask that? And where was Lucius? His own wife sat motionless in the wooden dock, hands chained, weals clearly visible on her arms, below the short sleeves of her prison dress. Her face was hidden by guards, though I could see her hair was filthy and matted. Her beautiful hair. I could weep at the sight of it. How much had she borne alone? I should have been a better friend. If I’d listened more carefully, I could have seen this coming.
‘My brother is the victim here. And his poor child.’
‘Thank you, Mrs Atherton, no further questions.’ The magistrate waved at the court hand, who stepped forward and opened the gate with a sweeping gesture. Grace nodded, raised her head to the viewing gallery and paused just long enough to show how she both needed and trusted them. She might as well have taken a bow for such a performance.
‘Bring the accused to the stand.’
The guards on either side of Maddie drew her roughly to her feet and she stumbled, shaking her head wildly. I had to stop myself crying out that I was here, her Caro. I wanted her to look up. The magistrate waited a few moments before raising his hands and ushering the guards impatiently.
‘Very well. Give her some time. A glass of water. Bring the next witness.’
A stout woman took the stand, her bombazine rustling as she heaved herself inside. Part of her face was slightly puckered, giving her left eye an odd squint. Disconcerting. It was as though she looked past you and straight through you at once.
‘Name?’ 19
‘Mrs Henrietta Ermentrude Barker.’
‘What is your relationship to the accused?’
‘Housekeeper to Dr and Mrs Everley.’
‘Thank you.’ The magistrate leant over to one of his court hands, who whispered something and handed him another sheet of paper. He read through it slowly before turning his attention back to Mrs Barker, who hadn’t moved a muscle. ‘And in your role as housekeeper you must have seen a good deal of Mrs Everley?’
‘No, sir. Mrs Everley was a very private person. She didn’t like to spend time with others.’
Why did they all insist on speaking as though Maddie were deceased? She was right there, in the same room, listening to their condemnation. No wonder she watched the floor. I wanted to wave and shout, show her that someone was there for her. But I couldn’t risk being thrown out.
‘She didn’t talk to you about the household management?’
‘She never came to the kitchen, sir. Mrs Atherton was more interested in the management of the house than Mrs Everley.’
‘Mrs Everley’s sister-in-law?’
‘Yes. She visited often. Always made a point of checking on me in the kitchen, too. And she was never anything but good to Mrs Everley. She treated her like a sister.’
Grace had stayed to listen, smiling as though she’d won a prize. She was straight from a faerytale – a wicked sister intent on harm. I watched the magistrate carefully to see if he was fooled, but his face was impassive.
‘Did you not meet with Mrs Everley at mealtimes, for example?’
‘Not to speak to. She complained, sometimes, about the food.’ Mrs Barker heaved her arms across her chest and folded them together, defensive. ‘A lot of the time, actually. She didn’t eat much, that’s certain, though she liked wine. Most nights she 20asked for wine. Lunchtimes too … if Dr Everley wasn’t there. Didn’t have much of an appetite, as I said. I put it down to the laudanum.’
The magistrate stopped writing notes and looked towards the accused’s box. Maddie sat with her shoulders hunched forward and I saw that she was painfully thin. Her hands were reddened with cold, and her fingers plucked repeatedly at her skirts. I had never seen her take more than a glass of wine. It went to her head and she disliked the feeling of dizziness, the loss of control. I had heard her say it on more than one occasion. So why would she take laudanum? It made no sense.
‘Mrs Everley took laudanum?’
‘Yes. Most days.’
‘Did you administer it at her request?’
Mrs Barker hitched her folded arms across her ample chest and pursed her lips. ‘No. I did not. But when I went to clean the cups I could smell it there. I believe she added it herself to the cocoa she asked us to bring.’
‘Where do you think Mrs Everley procured this laudanum?’
‘I don’t know. Like I said, she wasn’t downstairs often.’
‘Downstairs?’
‘The kitchen. Where I spend most of my time. That’s why it was odd when I saw her creep through with the bundle. Because she never went there, or to the garden. That’s when I followed her.’
Maddie’s prison dress was faded to the colour of a charcoal smudge, patched at the neckline and elbows. What kind of women had worn it before? Had they died in it? Was Maddie wondering the same? She wouldn’t get the chance to speak today, the magistrate was already checking his watch. Mrs Barker unfolded her arms and slowly raised her right hand to point at Maddie. ‘She knows what she did. She should be sentenced at the Assizes.’
Exhibit 3
Carved bone doll. Egyptian Coptic. c.200 A.D.
Dr Everley spared no expense on my trousseau, and my closet harboured fine lace collars, satin and silk in pale blue and grey like shades of winter skies. More new clothes than our family had seen in years. Isabel would be envious, but shouldn’t married women choose their own gowns? Like Rebecca, I favoured brighter colours. Her own closet was a rainbow to set off her dark curls, though much fortune such finery had brought her.
Part of me had hoped she might appear at the wedding. Ridiculous, of course; how would she know? But life was unsettled, and my thoughts turned to her often. Poor Rebecca. The oldest and best of us, beautiful in ways I barely understood. She would have known exactly how to charm Dr Everley, Mrs Atherton, all of them. She could have helped me. Although, if she hadn’t abandoned us, I might not be here at all.
On the night Rebecca disappeared, Mother explained through noisy sobs that she had married badly enough to curse our family. She screamed that we were never to speak of it and later it transpired that my sister never married at all. I must have been the last to know. All I understood was that the house became quiet, people stopped coming – my friends, Mother’s circle, 22Isabel’s admirers. In a matter of months, we’d dropped from the height of Doctor’s Family to Unwelcome in Polite Society. Father lost his patients slowly, until Dr Pearson was called from town so often that he took a house in the village and our fate was sealed. By the time Father met Dr Everley, Isabel and I were tainted goods, bound to turn out badly, and would have to take someone from far away or not at all. It mattered little to me, but Mother jumped at the chance to introduce Isabel to our first house guest, the man Father had met in London years before on ‘family business’, insisting on our smartest dresses, hair washed and brushed, cheeks pinched red. Isabel bit at her lips to bring out their colour and borrowed Mother’s powder, caking her face until she looked ill. She capered and chattered like a squirrel, while I sat in the corner with my sketchbooks, and everyone was furious when he chose me. Father said he liked my calmness, but I would like my husband to look at me properly. My husband! When would I get used to that? Selecting a blue gown, I held it against myself and spun round before the glass, screaming in fright as I noticed a small woman standing by the end of the bed. She was painfully thin, and her starched apron and dark blue dress gave her the look of a carved wooden doll.
‘Good morning …’
‘Annie, ma’am.’ The poor thing looked terrified. Purple smudges below her eyes showed I wasn’t the only one who slept badly.
‘Annie. I’m sorry if I startled you. I wasn’t expecting … call me Maddie. Could you help with my hair?’ Ellen always did it at home. Annie stared fixedly at the floor, ignoring the brush I held out. ‘Do you know how to dress hair?’
‘No ma’am.’ She turned and began to set the grate. ‘I’m just here to do the fire.’ 23
Why would I need a fire in my room in the morning? Was I expected to stay there all day? Before I could ask, she gave a shallow curtsey and left, closing the door as silently as it had opened. A quiet ghost moving through rooms. Something else I would have to get used to.
With badly pinned hair and a stiff blue dress, I stepped out into my new home, quickly confused by the corridors. The house was as tall as it was wide, and at each end the stairwells spiralled like steps to the underworld. Heavy curtains blocked the windows and rows of portraits watched me lose my way, bright eyes following as I tracked back and forth. The sweet-rotten scent of dead flowers was everywhere. From a long window at the top of the central staircase I looked out to the small garden, wondering if there would be fresh flowers to cut and bring inside, but the borders looked empty. A plinth on the lawn held a statue of a woman with both arms outstretched, pleading, looking sadly at the raven perched on its hand. Three more ravens pecked at clods of earth on the gravel path, slick feathers shiny black. Already I missed the countryside around Lynton. What would be happening at home? Mother wouldn’t keep the news to herself for long. She’d be at the baker’s in her muslin and wedding hat, talking up Dr Everley as though he were royalty while Isabel reeled off descriptions of the hotel. I missed them. As soon as it was seemly, I would invite them to stay. There must be some things a wife was permitted to arrange for herself.
In a room to the left of the entrance was a breakfast table laid for one. A dead mouse curled by the chair, one eye open like a bright black bead, the other missing – a gift from the house cat. Outside, maids called across to one another while they scrubbed the steps, and I envied their sense of purpose. I sat at the small 24table, smoothing my skirt, and Mrs Barker bustled in so quickly that she must have been watching. She held a tall china pot of what smelt like coffee.
‘Morning, Mrs Everley. Late sleeper.’
‘Good morning, Mrs Barker. Call me Maddie. Is it terribly late? I was so tired after the journey and I slept badly in a strange bed.’
‘It’s a quarter past ten.’ She moved the cup and bent the pot forward, flinching perceptibly when I stayed her hand.
‘Thank you, I don’t drink coffee.’
‘I can pour you a glass of milk if you like?’ It was hard to tell if she mocked me. One side of her face was slightly puckered, as though she’d suffered a bout of palsy, and it gave her a devious look. I would have liked a glass of milk, but I must learn adult habits. I must hold my nerve.
‘We can order some tea when we go through the grocery lists.’
She raised an eyebrow. ‘Whyever would we be doing that, Mrs Everley?’
Mother had told me what I’d need to do as Mistress: ordering the food and arranging the dinners. I wanted to tell this woman that it was my household now, to run as I pleased, but I couldn’t find the words. ‘How many will we be for dinner?’
‘Dr Everley doesn’t take to entertaining. I wouldn’t expect much in the way of that sort of thing.’
An uncomfortable silence spread while Mrs Barker occupied herself with lifting lids off dishes and slapping chunks of butter onto floury bread. The lines on her face were deep and set, her flesh sagged and greyish against the white of her cap. I didn’t want her to believe she had won.
‘Perhaps you could give me a tour of the house?’
‘I’ll ask Barker to show you around tomorrow, Mrs Everley. I hope you have everything you need.’ 25
‘Please, call me Maddie.’
‘I’m sorry, Mrs Everley,’ she answered, her mouth a firm line. ‘It doesn’t seem right.’
I retreated to my room and wasted time trying to entice some sparrows onto my windowsill with crumbs from the box of biscuits Ellen had placed in my trunk. They were bold, quite unlike the birds at home, which flew off at the slightest noise when I tried to sketch them. I managed to get two to feed together for several moments, until Mrs Barker arrived with a bundle of linen.
‘If those things come into the house, you’ll be cleaning up their mess yourself.’
I opened my mouth to apologise, then changed my mind. If I wanted the company of birds, it was my business. Mother had a pretty cage in the garden room at Lynton, white-painted and strewn with ribbons, which housed a pair of lovebirds.
‘Could you show me the library? I have nothing to read and I’m not sure when Lucius will return.’ Dr Everley’s given name felt unfamiliar, but I used it to show that I could, to remind her of my station. And hers. Wordlessly she led me there and opened the door before leaving, her stiff gown rustling as she turned.
The library was even gloomier than the rest of the house but it contained more books than I’d imagined could exist, beautiful editions and leather-bound volumes shelved in walnut and glass. I craned my neck to read the titles. Anatomy, medical dictionaries and scores of bound scientific papers on subjects I barely recognised – phrenology, geology, the lives of surgical pioneers and adventurers. Toxicology occupied an entire shelf. Was poisoning so common in London? I wanted to read something comforting, just for the sound of the words. But there was nothing by Rosetti, and the only copies of Shelley’s works were three thin pamphlets 26on the use of electric currency to raise the dead. The idea made me shiver. Why had I listened to Mother’s insistence that I bring no books of my own? You will read whatever your husband wishes, Madeleine. Would Dr Everley want me to learn about poisons? Or raising the dead? Tucked in a corner I found a volume of Tennyson, melancholy poems full of nature’s teeth and claws, that made me feel keenly what I didn’t know. How dull a man of science would find my conversation!
At exactly eight o’clock, I took the east stairs down to dinner and was surprised to find Dr Everley standing in the hallway, wearing a long frock coat with emerald button slips and a silk choker the colour of a beetle’s wing. We exchanged polite ‘good evenings’ and I waited for him to lead me in to dine but he remained, gloves clasped loosely in his right hand.
‘I trust you’re comfortable?’ He tilted his head to one side like a raven. I sensed bad news.
‘You have a lovely home.’ I was about to add ‘and I am grateful for it’, hoping to begin a conversation that might allow me to assess his feelings, when I saw Barker standing just behind him, in the shadows by the hallstand, brushing down a tall hat.
‘It’s all Grace’s doing. She’s always looked after us, Father and me. Of course, it’s your house now and yours to change. If you so desire.’ He didn’t sound as though he meant it. ‘She sent word to say that she’ll visit tomorrow, she’s keen to get to know you. I hope you’ll grow to like each other.’
Why did he not wish to know me? ‘I’m certain I will. And what of her family?’
His face clouded. ‘Her husband … is abroad with his company, in India. A hard journey and one he undertakes seldom.’
Then the black bands were not for Grace’s husband. She must 27still mourn her father. ‘She must miss him.’
‘I doubt it. And Grace is kept busy enough.’
I was shocked to hear such intense dislike. What had the man done? I was sure Grace had told me his name, but I couldn’t remember. ‘She mentioned children?’
‘Twin sons, and a daughter.’
‘It’s rare to have healthy twins. They’re blessed.’
‘They’re not,’ he said shortly. ‘Only one is what you’d call healthy, and he remains at best a delicate child. At birth the cord was wrapped around his brother’s neck, starving his oxygen. I delivered them myself and there was nothing to be done. They may have dwelt in the womb that way. Edmond, the stronger twin, determined to survive at all costs. He left Daniel without breath, a damaged brain. He survived, but only just and he does not like company, or trust strangers. He stays mostly in his room.’
So bluntly professional. Doctors must have their bedside manner, but this was family, his nephew. And to deliver babies, his own sister’s babies! I struggled to stay composed.
‘How terribly sad. Poor Grace.’
‘That is life, Madeleine. Nature doesn’t favour weakness. At certain points in our history, he would have been thrown to lions.’
We fell silent. Expectation hung in the air.
‘Should we go to table? Mrs Barker said eight and it’s already quarter past.’
Barker coughed and handed over the hat with a silver-topped cane, giving the rosewood a slight polish. Dr Everley made a show of examining his pocket watch and then turned to me apologetically, as though helpless before time.
‘I’m afraid you must dine alone. It’s the Collector Society’s monthly meeting and I’m presenting something quite new to what I hope will be a generous audience. I mustn’t keep them waiting.’ 28
I examined the rug’s floral pattern. ‘Of course. You must go. Please, don’t wait on my account. I’m tired and will retire early.’
‘Soon you won’t have time for me.’ He stroked my cheek with his gloved hand. What did he mean? I had nothing to fill the lonely days that stretched before me. Barker opened the door and Dr Everley ran smartly down the steps. Carriage wheels echoed and the ghost of his touch burnt my cheek.
The dining room was laid with heavy plate in multiple settings, as though guests were expected, and polished like glass so that everything had to be picked up and replaced slowly. I barely managed to eat a mouthful of soup before Annie whisked my bowl away, almost dropping the spoon in her haste. I determined to talk to her when she brought the next course, but it was Barker who entered with the trolley and its single salver containing beans, potatoes and a small pie with a thick crust of suet decorated with a row of tiny beaks, yellowed with egg yolk. I stifled a cry of horror and my stomach turned at the thought of the bright eyes and dirty feathers of my sparrows.
‘I’ll take some wine.’ I tried hard to sound like a mistress who would do as she pleased, but I’d rarely been offered wine at home. In fact, I’d only been eating at the same time as the adults for a year and Barker looked at me as though he knew that. Slowly he pulled a long chain from his belt and opened the wooden wine box with a small key, slipping it back into his pocket once he set the glass on the table, as if he was the only one to be trusted.
‘Everything in order, Mrs Everley?’
‘Is there to be pudding?’ My stomach ached for palatable food.
‘Old Dr Everley didn’t agree with it. I could bring in some Stilton?’
I shook my head, hoping he saw, and cared, that I was cross. 29Absurd to obey the authority of a deceased man. The whole dinner took barely half an hour and, exhausted and hungry, I retired to the drawing room, falling heavily on the small sofa. I had no energy for sewing and neat stitches would be impossible after wine. I would happily draw – if only I’d thought to bring my things. Mother always hated me sketching from nature, she thought it attracted the wrong sort of attention. Frogs and beetles are not ladylike, Madeleine. Don’t be such a tomboy or you’ll end up unmarried. She got that wrong. And I liked to draw. I was good at it.
I lay back against the cushions, close to tears with homesickness, and almost jumped from my skin when Mrs Barker entered with a loud cough, holding a bag of mending. She pulled her chair next to the lamp and began to darn a patch on an apron so small it must belong to Annie. I took up my own sewing in an attempt to cover my surprise.
‘Dr Everley said to make sure you weren’t lonely.’
She seemed to work without a single glance downward, her needle flying in and out of the worn fabric. The crossed hairpins in her bun cast long shadows, creeping up the wall behind her like spider legs.
Exhibit 4
Opium bowl. Carved rosewood in primitive bird shape. Persian. c. 300 B.C.
Rain had fallen heavily for days, steam shrouding the windows and preventing all thoughts of excursions. Barker, unable to work in the garden, was finally persuaded into the grand tour, and I found that Dr Everley’s house was far bigger than I’d thought possible. Wings stretched out on either side, covering two or three of what used to be neighbouring properties, and decorated with Grace’s exquisite taste. Shuttered windows stretched to the ground, draped with muslin and corded velvet, and the ground floors were dressed in green silk; rooms filled with so much furniture it was hard to navigate a way through. Places for visits and afternoon teas, though I had no idea when such things might happen. Did people just call? Would Lucius tell me? How badly I needed a friend to ask.
Upstairs were bedrooms with jewel-coloured spreads and patterned rugs that looked as though they might fly if I wished hard enough. There were nine, perhaps ten, not counting the nursery near the servant’s floor; more than we could possibly need and easily enough for Mother and Isabel to be comfortable if they wished to stay. Another of the bedrooms on my floor looked 31occupied. Photographs on the dresser, a pile of books by the bed and shoes on stretching racks before a mirrored wardrobe. Freshly brushed evening clothes hung over a stand, papers and ink waited on the writing desk.
‘Do we have a guest, Barker?’ I never saw my husband leaving, so perhaps others came and went too.
‘Not at present.’
‘Then this is Dr Everley’s room?’ I thought his rooms were on the floor above.
‘Old Dr Everley’s room. Mrs Atherton laid out his things, so he’d still be in our thoughts. Door’s always kept open, things ready to use.’
‘He must have been a remarkable man.’ What an odd thing for Grace to have done. Was he loved or feared? I stepped over to the portrait on the opposite wall. ‘His wife?’ In the painting a pale woman with a high pile of auburn hair and an elegant neck sat upright on a throne-like chair, her right hand crossed over her chest. Standing behind her, hands on her shoulders, was a tall man with cold eyes and fierce whiskers. By their feet sat a pretty girl in a froth of white frills, amber eyes staring straight from the canvas.
‘And Dr Everley’s mother. Not that he knew her as such. Passed away in her confinement. Very hard on them.’
Knowing he was the cause of her death must be even harder to bear. Poor Lucius. Grace, too, must have grieved, though she looked barely five years old in the painting. I asked why he didn’t remarry to give them a mother, but Barker seemed not to hear. We continued our tour, alternating heavy silence with stilted conversation, and I discovered that Barker had served the family for more than forty years, since joining as footman. The term itself suited him, old-fashioned and slightly ridiculous. 32
Barker hesitated at the handle of the next door. ‘Dr Everley’s room.’
‘We won’t disturb him, Barker, he’s not here.’ Perhaps there would be clues to my husband’s personality. Barker stood to one side and held the door open with a look of mistrust.
Moss-green walls and dark brown paint reminded me of a cave, filled with musky cologne that masked the sweet-rotten flower smell. A bear’s cave. Two crossed swords hung on the wall above the dressing stand, which held a dark photograph of a much younger Lucius and Grace, and a pair of white kid gloves in stretchers like a floating pair of hands. No cushions, counterpane or rugs. Such a deeply masculine room that I felt heat rise to my cheeks and I could not stay long inside.
‘And these?’ Barker clearly intended to pass the last two doors.
‘They’re locked.’
‘But you have keys?’
‘Dr Everley keeps the keys to his workshop. And his cabinets. Some of the things in his collection are very old and need to be kept safe.’
‘I’d like to see them.’ Father had a small glass-fronted cupboard of things he found interesting, a few stuffed creatures, bird eggs and shells. I’d sketched some of them. Imagine a room full! ‘There must be a key for cleaning?’
‘Dr Everley cleans the rooms himself.’
A shiver thrilled my spine at the thought of what might be contained in collections to be kept away from ordinary eyes. ‘I’m sure he’ll entrust me to assist him.’ I drew myself upright, pleased to see I was taller than Barker, and reached out to push against the door. It gave. Lucius did not strike me as a man who might forget to lock doors. Perhaps Barker was being untruthful about the keys. A smell of chemicals and something like decay made me pause 33momentarily, and Barker seized his chance to push between me and the open doorway. His grip was surprisingly strong, enough to wrestle me from the handle, but not before I caught a glimpse of the inside. A carcass the size of a female deer appeared to have been partially skinned, hind quarters stripped so that shocking white bones stuck from the flesh. Grisly butchery for a suite of gentleman’s rooms. And Barker so keen to keep things secret that all my questions died on my tongue. I knew what he would answer: Dr Everley is a surgeon, he works in ways you would not understand. But I needed to understand, or I would never sleep. When Lucius returned, I would ask him.
I cleared my throat. ‘What time does Dr Everley usually come home?’
Barker raised his eyebrows with some effort, as though they were too heavy for his face. ‘He might be late if his patient’s ailing, or not come home at all if they take bad. And if it’s late it also depends on whether he goes to his club. Or straight to a lecture or meeting. Or a friend’s house to borrow books and papers.’ He spoke as slowly and carefully as someone explaining life to a child, making my question sound ridiculous. Why should I feel I had any claim on my husband’s time?
‘Dr Everley’s a private man.’ Barker’s thick eyebrows sank back down, and he peered through them like a creature in leaves. ‘He’s had his own way for a long time.’
Grace arrived as we reached the front hall, as though her visit was timed, and ushered me into the sitting room. Soon she was entirely at home, reclining along the sofa, Edmond hiding in the folds of her dress. Eloise ran busily back and forth, fetching balls of tapestry wool and picture books to show her brother, who studiously ignored her, staring straight up at me instead. He had 34a sallow, peevish face and long legs that stuck out in front of him, his feet repeatedly knocking against the leg of my chair, unnoticed or unheeded by Grace. His presence made me nervous, though I tried to forget what Dr Everley had told me. The boy couldn’t help the way he was born.
Grace leant back with a weary expression as though I were in her home, having overstayed my welcome. ‘I do hope Lucius is looking after you, he can be tedious when something bothers him.’
What could be bothering him? Most evenings he went to his club and to all the lectures and society meetings he could wish. He had his research and his patients. Being married affected him very little. But with my new name and ring, I was left by myself, waiting all night for a visit that never came. And when I awoke, late, curtains thick against the daylight, my husband had already left for work.
‘I haven’t seen much of him.’
Grace’s eyes glittered. ‘He hardly has time for any of us. I haven’t seen him in days, but I hear his talk went down well with the Society. He is quite the celebrity. Davenport’s dinner was awash with him.’
I smiled as though I knew all about research and dinners and Davenports. I hadn’t spoken more than a handful of words to Dr Everley since I caught him on his way out. Perhaps that was the talk he mentioned. Had such success placed demands on him? He’d made a few courteous visits to the drawing room and then disappeared to his work, his patients, his fellow men of science.
‘He seems content.’
‘You mustn’t feel jealous of his research – for all we know he really is uncovering the great mysteries of life. Personally, I find it slightly terrifying. I would much rather believe that we were the product of Adam and Eve, but there we are.’ She stared at me hard, 35as though trying to find me out in some way. ‘He hasn’t told you? Well, it is difficult work. I’ve watched him for so long. Father too. They shared it all with me. I’m sure he’ll tell you when he’s ready.’ Grace wore an expression of triumph.
‘We’re to attend a lecture together soon.’ A complete untruth, but it was enough to stop her gloating. I was unable to venture anywhere alone and, it seemed, I wasn’t wanted with him.
She narrowed her eyes as though considering the lie and then tossed her hair back, relaxing again. ‘And have you met the Grays? Or the Barringtons? Lucinda Barrington is adorable.’
I shook my head. Although he’d promised a drive, and a trip to his bookshop, Lucius hadn’t taken me anywhere. Grace was the first visitor I’d entertained, and I hadn’t left the house. Barker had even prevented me from sitting in the garden, claiming the borders had just been dug and my clothes would spoil.
‘I’ve been quite solitary until today. I think perhaps Lucius is letting me get used to London rather gently.’ I tried a knowing smile. ‘You may have to be my saviour. I would so like to find a bookshop. I’ve quite exhausted the books I might enjoy in your brother’s library.’
‘If you’re looking for stories, then you won’t find any here. Neither Lucius nor I is fond of stories.’
Such continual reminders that I was out of my depth. If she wasn’t his sister, I’d say she was jealous, but he paid me no attention anyway. What did either of them want from me? And why had Dr Everley been so quick to force a marriage he did not appear to want?
Grace watched Eloise push Edmond’s leg away so that she could clamber up on the high-backed chair next to her mother. Edmond waited until she reached the seat and then slowly moved 36against the chair’s leg until it wobbled and sent her crashing to the floor in a tangle of petticoats and tears. Grace stayed me as I rose to comfort her, and turned to Edmond.
‘Apologise to your sister at once,’ she said in a level voice.
‘I’m sorry that you fell,’ he intoned.
Grace picked up the child, still howling, and sat her on the other side of the room.
I waited for some sort of explanation or apology, Mother would never have allowed such behaviour, but she simply said: ‘I will leave the children with Nurse next time. They’re rarely with me during the day.’
