Frey & McGray: A Fever of the Blood - Part 3

‘INDEED. You made me look at the law and I did so thoroughly. There is no act to keep doctors from telling everyone about their patients’ affairs. There was only one case my solicitors found: some London physician divulged how one of his patients aborted an illegitimate child. The trollop’s husband heard about it and divorced her. She then successfully sued the doctor. The court deemed his statements to be “libel and defamation” – despite it all

being true.’

‘And by signing this I admit that if I ever speak out on this matter I’ll be defaming you,’ Clouston read.

‘That is correct. The very words used in that precedent case. That would save us much time in court if this were ever made public. To the world, my son died this afternoon on his way to Belgium.'

Clouston snorted. ‘I thought you had a higher opinion of me and my professional practices.’

‘And I do, Doctor, but I need to make sure that the name of my family is not tarnished. I am sure you will understand.’

Clouston kneaded his temples. ‘You make me crawl in the shadows like a delinquent... we are signing patched-up documents to

pretend this arrangement is within the law... and now it is I who must agree to your terms? You high-born are more

merciless to your mad folk than us poor commoners.’

Dr Clouston knew that all too well. Insanity was a shameful business for the aristocracy: for them it implied weak blood, wicked ancestry, or even a curse or demonic possession.

Lady Anne produced a fine hunter flask from her small purse, together with a little silver cup, and demurely poured herself some drink. Clouston wanted to believe she was ashamed of herself, but he was not sure she was capable of that feeling. ‘Do you want more money?’

‘Lady Anne, there are things your money cannot compensate for.’She had a rather long drink, gulping twice before lowering the cup. ‘I know.’‘

‘I will be forced to seek help elsewhere, and you know what that will be like.’

Sadly, Clouston did know. No other respectable doctor would agree to her terms. She would end up dealing with one of those tricksters who ran dreadful asylums with methods that were downright medieval. They would not even attempt to understand or improve Joel’s condition; they’d simply keep him out of sight, slowly rotting to oblivion.

Lady Anne fixed her empty gaze on the fire. It was the only time her voice came out as a whisper. ‘Don’t make me beg, Doctor.’

The fire crackled in the hearth, and for a moment there was no other sound in the room. It felt as if the entire world had halted, waiting for the doctor’s answer. Clouston rubbed his face in utter frustration. ‘Something tells me we are all going to regret this...’

He finally snatched up the dip pen and signed so angrily he almost gashed the paper. Outside, one of the dogs howled. The others followed, and very soon there was a cacophony of barking.

‘What the hell?’ shouted Lady Anne’s servant as he opened the door, letting an icy draught in. He and Tom went outside, while Clouston stood in the doorway. He had to squint to make out what was happening. The dogs were running to the road, and amidst their piercing

barks Clouston heard the frenzied galloping of a horse. It took him a moment to actually see it, for it was a jet-black mount - as black as the hooded figure that spurred its hindquarters riding side saddle?

‘Put that down,’ Clouston told Tom, who was nervously pointing the rifle. It was a horsewoman, and a very skilled one. She reined in with perfect control and hopped down. The hounds howled and jumped around her, but kept their distance.

Lady Glass’s brute of a servant ran back to the house, almost knocking Clouston down. ‘She’s here, milady!’

‘For goodness’ sake, tell me a name, Jed!’

He didn’t have the chance. The hooded woman had already arrived, walking in with confident strides. She pulled off the hood and Clouston saw the pretty face of a 19-year-old girl. He recognised the bone structure of Lady Anne: the long face, the soft jaw, the pointy chin. On the other hand, her skin was smooth and unblemished, and her brown eyes glowed with turbulent determination. She was also rather short, or appeared so next to the enormous Jed.

the face. It sounded like a whip cracking. Clouston instantly planted himself between the two women.

‘Lady Anne, I will not see such savagery!’

‘She is my granddaughter; I shall do as I see fit!’

‘Touch her again and I will leave you to deal with this misfortune on your own.’

Lady Anne’s eyes were bloodshot, her nostrils swelling like bellows as she swallowed her anger. She looked at the girl over the doctor’s shoulder.

‘Who the devil told you we were here? Was it Bertha?’

Caroline nodded. Despite the vicious blow the girl showed no hint of tears.

‘I knew it,’ Lady Anne grunted, returning to her seat. ‘That old nag is not to be trusted. The beating I’ll give her when we return...’

‘Don’t!’ Caroline said. ‘I forced her to tell me. It is my fault, I had to be here...’

Tomorrow: Inspector Adolphus McGray

The Dance of the Serpents, the sequel to A Fever of the Blood, is now on sale in hardback, priced £18.99

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