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“Compelling reading,” Lord Harold observed. “Do not neglect to study her account of the Danforth progeny. Precarious though childhood may be — and beset with every danger from contagion to accident — I ca
“But may be well within the bounds of human infamy,” I replied.
I WAS SET DOWN AT THE RUTLAND ARMS AT THREE o’clock. My sister and Mr. Cooper had walked out in the direction of All Saints Church — a difficult, though rewarding, climb up a considerable eminence in Bakewell — Mr. Cooper being most desirous of showing Cassandra the tombs in the Vernon transept, recommended to his notice by Sir James Villiers. My mother was dozing in her chair in the upstairs parlour given over to our comfort; but at my entrance, came to her senses with a start.
“And so Lord Harold has been carrying you off into the countryside, Jane,” she cried by way of greeting. “We are fortunate this outing did not end in a report of your death!”
“He is a most cautious and proficient handler of horseflesh, ma’am,” I replied.
“And yet murder and every sort of disgrace are forever nipping at that gentleman’s heels! He ca
“It was a curricle, ma’am,” I told her. “There can be nothing disgraceful in a summer airing, amidst the beauties of the Peaks.”
My mother looked darkly and said, “I suppose Lord Harold denies all part in that unfortunate maid’s end?”
“Naturally, ma’am — having learned of her existence only Tuesday, in company with ourselves.”
“You are far too artless, Jane! You ought not to believe everything you are told,” my mother returned. “It is necessary to give the appearance of belief when one is young, and in the world — anything else should be immodest in the extreme. The arch and knowing woman will drive off every eligible prospect that offers. But among your family, Jane, I hope you will always speak frankly.”
“You may be assured of that, dear ma’am. I have not the slightest doubt of Lord Harold’s being other than a murderer; and I ca
“I have sent the grey silk to Sally for airing”—my mother sighed—“and have told Mr. Cooper that does he wish to quit this place for Staffordshire on the morrow, he must do so alone. You are not growing any younger, Jane — and against such an extremity as spinsterhood, a trifling affair of whooping cough must be accounted as nothing.”
After di
11 November 1803. Gave Mistress, at her wish, a draught of oil of sweet almonds just before bed; labour begun hard and fast three hours after. Gave mistress a purge at lying-in, of boiled milk and beaten eggs, with a little sugar.
12 November 1803. Mistress brought to bed, hard on one o’clock, of a fine, healthy boy. He is named John d’Arcy Danforth. Saw birth along with Dr. Bascomb of Buxton. Gave mistress a posset of pe
13 November 1803. Haskell complains of breathing; gave a little of the armoniac and hyssop water. Miss Julia yellow about the eyes; gave celandine and madder water against the jaundice. Old Matthew feels gout coming on, and is spitting blood. Sent Comfrey water to stables and a little Duke of Portland’s Remedy.
Tess Arnold had been a most active stillroom maid, between the demands of her employers, their several children, and a house full of servants. It was a wonder that she could spare any time from her duties to attend to the ills of all and sundry in the Peaks — much less go playacting with Andrew Danforth; but spare the time, she had. A brisk trade in draughts and powders, steel pills and plasters was managed from the Penfolds still-room. Tess had turned a pretty pe
21 May 1804. Gave wine whey and spirits of Hartshorn against the sore throat to Maggie Watchit; one shilling fivepence. For a sour stomach, draughts of gum Arabick and chalk, to Michael Tivey, fivepence. To Daisy Marlebone of Tissington, Musk and Damask Rose Water, for they histerick fits. Sixpence.
This was the first mention I had found of Michael Tivey, though I assumed their association was an ancient one; nobody raised in so confined a society, with a mutual concern in curing the sick, could fail to learn of one another. I wondered at the surgeon seeking out a simple healer for his ills; but then recollected that he was supposed to be enamoured of the maid — and perhaps it was no uncommon thing to find a surgeon seeking the skills of another as apothecary. But surely there were apothecaries enough in Bakewell? So large a town — and so well patronised by a comfortable gentry roundabouts — must boast at least two or three.
The entries in the journal ran on through the years from 1802 until the summer of 1805, with just such a mixture of trifling incident and common ailments — here a case of the dropsy, there an attack of the rheumaticks; until August of 1805, when I noted an entry that must alert all my senses.
2 August 1805. Had of Michael Tivey tincture of opium, for the mixing with sulphate of zinc, in a wash for tired eyes; sent the same to the Duchess of Devonshire, against her dread ailment, by way of Lady Elizabeth Foster, one shilling. For Lady Elizabeth Foster, against the blockage of the menses, Mugwort pap and Rhubarb water, to be taken at bedtime, fivepence.
This was the first time I had noticed an entry regarding the intimates of Chatsworth, and I found it in every respect extraordinary. That Her Grace the Duchess — who could command the finest physicians in the land, and must employ a stillroom maid herself at Chatsworth — should attempt to find aid from the servant of a neighbour, confounded belief. Had Tess Arnold’s reputation for healing merited such sponsorship? Or had Lady Elizabeth, whose hand had carried the tincture to her bosom friend, gone far afield in search of discretion?
5 September 1805. Lord Hartington, for the healing of deafness, applications of warm oyster likker to both ears. Three shillings. Miss Emma, Russia Castor and Milk in black cherry water, against they convulsive fits, three draughts the day.
Here was one mystery solved at least; Lord Hartington had met Tess Arnold first under the guise of treatment.