Miss Mary Martha Crawford (13 page)

She was walking by the Abbey now. She must find some quiet place where she could sit because her whole being was aching to cry. Yet she

mustn't cry. Oh no, not in the open, she must control herself. She

found a seat in a quiet corner, and sat heavily down, drooped her chin on to her chest, and asked herself what more could happen. She felt

she was being assailed by life all at once, and from all sides, by the horrible side of life. No longer did she feel mature, and she could

even laugh at the thought of herself as a woman of the world;

she saw herself again, but even more clearly now, as a gullible

creature, a very young impressionable girl who, because she ran a

household, had played at being a woman.

Slowly she raised her head and gazed straight before her. Well it was over, parental love and respect, romance, and any thought of

marriage.

She knew now how Aunt Sophie must have felt when she returned from the church un married. It was as if she, too, had been spurned, rejected, and not by one man alone but by two.

What had happened to Aunt Sophie had turned her brain, was it also

going to happen to her? Oh no! No! She actually shook her head at

the question. She'd become strong, inde pendent of men and all they

stood for. She would make a purpose in life, and the purpose would be The Habitation, to keep it going so that it would shelter them all for as long as they needed it. And she'd keep the businesses going, at

least the bookshop. She had no doubt in her mind but that Mr.

Lawrence Ducat would soon present her with his notice, thinking that he was dealing her a blow and that the business would fail entirely.

Well, she would show him; she would show them all. As if the thought had spurned her to make the attempt without further delay she rose

swiftly to her feet and was about to walk away when a voice from behind her said, "Good-afternoon, Miss Crawford." Turning as swiftly again she gulped slightly, blinked and said, "Oh!

Good-afternoon, Mr. Brockdean. "

The young man was holding his hat in his hand, his body bent slightly towards her. He had grown inches since the last time she had seen him, which was almost a year ago, and was much more handsome. His thick,

fair hair seemed even fairer than usual, and he had now acquired a

small moustache. She had, even up to their last meeting, thought of

Lady Brockdean's only son as a young boy, but here he was, a young man.

You could almost say from the looks of him a mature man, although he was not yet her own age.

He said now in a tone of voice that suited the words, "I was very sorry to hear of your father's passing. Miss Crawford."

"Thank you."

She veiled her eyes.

"It was so sudden."

"Yes." She still kept her gaze cast downwards.

He now glanced towards the seat from which she had risen and said, "I'm sorry if I disturbed your ..." He seemed to be searching for a word in his mind. He moved his hard high hat from one hand to the other and

she relieved him of his embarrassment by saying, "That is quite all right. I just rested for a moment; I'm on my way to collect the trap at the chandler's." "Oh yes." He nodded at her.

"Well, I'm going in that direction too.

I'm to meet my mother; she's visiting a friend in Gilesgate," They had left the precincts of the Abbey when he asked " How is Belle? I do hope there's nothing serious wrong with her foot. " He paused as she turned her face sharply towards him, her gaze wide and inquiring, and now he appeared

9i slightly flustered as he ended, "I ... I came across Nan your sister just by chance when I was out riding."

"Oh, I see. Well, Belle is slightly lame but I ... I don't think it is anything serious," They walked in silence now, almost for the length of a street, and then he stopped and, raising his hat again, said, "I must say good-bye here. Miss Crawford."

"Good-bye, Mr. Brockdean."

They bowed to each other, then went their separate ways.

He had been about to call Nancy by her Christian name, and said he had met her while out riding. She had been out riding for almost four

hours yesterday, Mildred said. And he had also referred to Belle by

name. She thought back to the summer. There had been times when

Nancy, returning from a ride, had appeared overflowing with high

spirits, when her whole being seemed to be pulsating with joy, and she had wished that she herself could get such a feeling from horse

riding.

But horse riding had never really attracted her; in fact, she confessed to herself, that she was a little afraid to be mounted on a horse. She could handle an animal expertly when seated in a trap, but that was the only way she enjoyed riding.

She must speak to Nancy, and forcibly. Nancy must not harbour any

ideas in the direction of William Brockdean. But then she wouldn't

surely, for hadn't she seen the futility of Mildred's efforts to gain even an acquaintanceship with Lady Brockdean? Anyway, Nancy was such a child, although she was approaching eighteen.

Before she mounted the trap she told herself she had made a grave error in allowing Nancy to ride out alone, but this was one thing" she would nip in the bud and instantly, the moment she reached home. On a

shuddering breath she asked herself what more could happen.... However, when she did reach home she did not chastise Nancy, for Nancy herself met her at the gate and gabbled that Peg had pulled a kettle of boiling water over herself and they thought she was dead.

PART TWO The Doctors

doctor pippin's house lay a minute's walk from Beaumont Street which fronted the Abbey and was, as everyone said, a credit to the town with its fine wide thoroughfare, a promise of more such like to come they hoped.

The doctor's house had a three-storey frontage. It looked tall and

deceptively narrow for it had six rooms on the ground floor. Three of these were taken over by the waiting- room, the surgery and dispensary, and the dining-room; the rest were the kitchen and the staff quarters.

On the first floor was a large comfortable sitting-room running the

length of the house and overlooking the garden at the far end, a small library, a large bedroom and a dressing-room, and a smaller bedroom.

The top floor was given over entirely to the use of Doctor Pippin's

recently acquired assistant. This consisted of four large attics, two of which were crammed with oddments of furniture. Doctor Pippin having at one time been prone to buying anything going cheap at an auction.

The third was a sparse looking bedroom, and the fourth what was called a sitting-room, only Doctor Harry Fuller had as yet no time to sit in it, even should he have wished to.

In many ways Doctor Pippin liked the new fellow, but in many ways they were deeply opposed, and not all with regard to the medical profession.

One of the things he strongly disagreed with was Fuller's insistence on having that damned animal up in his room; a dog's place was in a kennel in the yard not in a bedroom, filling it with fleas.

The fellow could argue as much as he liked that no one need have fleas if he kept himself clean, or was kept as clean as he kept Fred. Fred.

Did you ever hear of an animal being given such a name? It was, in a way, not quite right to give a human name to an animal, and such an

animal, which was neither sheepdog, whippet, nor hound. As he'd said to Fuller, its predecessors must have frolicked until they didn't know back from front.

Still, as he had continually told himself these past weeks, he could have chosen worse. Yes, yes, he could have, for he was having to admit that not only night calls but day ones too were testing him now. He

had a great disinclination to rise from his bed in the mornings, and his leg at times would swell to alarming proportions. What had Fuller said? Substitute water for wine and give the leg a chance. Well, yes, he supposed he was right but he was too old in the tooth now to take advice. Anyway, he had always hated taking advice.

It was thought in the town he was nearing seventy; well, he would never see seventy-four again and he was getting tired. All he wanted to do these days was sit in his garden when the weather was clement, or by the fire at night with a pipe in one hand and a glass in the other and a book before his eyes . and no more medical jargon. No, he had read all that he was going to read along those lines. Reading about new

ideas which filled your head with ideals was a young man's game. Let Fuller delve into it all he wanted. Anyway, that fellow had enough new theories of his own to fill a book.

That was another thing that irritated him about the fellow, his new

theories. Times were changing, he knew that only too well, but you

couldn't throw overboard wholesale all the work of the past, and he had told him just that last night as they sat here talking no, arguing,

almost quarrelling at one in the morning when it would have benefited them both to have been in their beds.

And where was he now? It was already black dark and freezing cold, and more than likely they were in for a great downfall of snow, and he had that journey to make to The Habitation where the maid had almost

scalded herself to death, at least so said that dolt of a fellow. But then it wouldn't take much boiling water to scald poor little Peg

Thornycroft to death for she wasn't the size of two pen north of

copper to begin with. ,. Where the hell had he got to!

As he made to rise to his feet he heard the trap coming into the yard, but it was almost ten minutes later when his assistant entered the

dining-room.

"Where've you been all this time?"

"Where have I been?" Harry Fuller thrust his fingers through his sandy hair and his blunt-featured face crinkled in inquiry as he moved

towards the fire, adding, "Why do you ask that? You know where I've been."

"You only had three calls to make."

"You're forgetting that one was on Mrs. Saidy and daughter Jenny."

"Yes, well, what about it?"

"She wants her married, that's what's about it."

Doctor Pippin now threw his head back and laughed as he said, "Oh aye.

Oh aye. She's been trying to get Jenny off her hands for years, so

she's flinging her darts at you, is she? "

"More like tomahawks; if I don't watch out I'll be scalped." He again thrust his hand through his hair and this time laughed; then shaking his head slowly he said, "Women! I sometimes wish I'd gone in for veterinary work, I could have managed cows better." Again the old doctor laughed, and louder this time, before he said, "I'm with you there; your manner with the ladies leaves a lot to be desired." Then, his face assuming a solemn expression, he nodded towards Harry, saying,

'you must alter that, me boy. If you want to get on in this business, get on the side of the women first, particularly the bedside. I'm

speaking from experience. " As Harry turned sharply from the fire John Pippin held up his hand exclaiming, " No arguments! Not now. Get a bite into you' he pointed to the table 'because you've got a ride

before you. "

"No! Where?"

The Crawfords, Morland House, The Habitation, as it's known

thereabouts. It's six to seven miles out. You'll have to take Peter

with you; you could have found it in the light but not at night. "

"Who's that sick that I've got to make the journey at this hour?"

"The maid, a wee undersized lass. They say she's scalded herself almost to death."

Harry now went towards the table and as he picked up a wedge of cold veal pie and began eating hastily John Pippin said, "Seat yourself down and get something into you, a few minutes won't make much difference, I don't suppose. If she's as bad as the lad said she'll be gone afore

you get there."

"Is it a big house?"

"No, not as big houses go. And the child's their only maid besides old Dilly Thompson. The family's hit hard times. The father died a couple of weeks back. You remember, I told you, a burst appendix."

"Oh, that case. Is the wife alive?"

"No, the house is run by the eldest daughter, has been for years.

There are two other young lasses and a son. He's away at school;

better if he stays there, too, I should think. "

"Why?" Harry was still eating.

"Oh, I don't rightly know, a weakling I would say. The eldest girl, Martha Mary, she should have been in his place, I mean as regards

character. Well now, are you finished?" He watched Harry wiping his mouth, then said, "Don't try any newfangled ideas on the wee lass, stick to the old ones. If the burns are very bad knock her out with a whiff and leave her plenty of laudanum."

The younger man didn't comment on this advice but said, "How's the road out there?"

"Oh, not too bad to within a mile of the house, then it's just a lane, a cart track. That'll be the hardest part to get through should it

snow. But anyway, should it come you'll be back before it lies. And

see that Bessie is well housed time you're there; the mist from the

river would kill more than a horse left out in it." Harry reached the door before he turned and looked back up the room to where John Pippin, lost in the big leather

chair, appeared like a shrivelled brown nut, and he said, "If there's any calls leave them until the morning, unless they're all that

important."

"You go about your business and I'll see to mine."

They stared at each other over the distance, then Harry went out,

closing the door none too gently behind him.

Going into the dispensary, he now collected a small quantity of powder from a deep stoppered glass jar bearing the word, opium, then opening his black leather bag he checked its contents.

A minute later he went into the kitchen, where the cook and the two

housemaids were seated round the fire, and addressing the older woman, he asked, "Have you fed him, Sarah?" and on this the cook turned her head towards him, saying, "Aye, doctor; he's so stuffed up he can't hardly move. Look at him." She pointed to her feet where the large nondescript dog was stretched out on the mat in front of the fire.