‘Well, I have retained Pratt and his colleagues to find her out and I have little doubt of their eventual success. I do not mean to persecute her, you understand, brother: it is because she is labouring under two separate misunderstandings, both of which I wish to remove, an act that can be done only by word of mouth.’
‘Of course. Certainly,’ said Jack, to fill the silence; and the mare, turning her head, gazed at them with her lustrous Arabian eyes, blowing gently on them as she did so.
‘You know about Brigid, of course. She is called an idiot, which is wholly incorrect: hens is a particular form of development, slower than most; but Diana does not know this.
She believes there is idiocy, which she cannot bear . . .’ Jack too had a horror of anything like insanity, and a word almost escaped him. ‘. . . and feeling no doubt that her reluctant presence was not only useless but positively harmful, she went away. She believes that I should blame her for doing so: that is the first misunderstanding. The second is, as I said, that she believes in this idiocy, and I wish to tell her that she is mistaken. Children of this kind are rarer than true idiots – who, I may say, can be told at a glance – but they are not very uncommon. There are two of them in Padeen’s village in the County Kerry – they are called leanai sidhe in Ireland
– and both were I will not say cured but brought into this world rather than another. They were taken at the critical moment. Padeen is the sort of person who can do this. He is strangely gifted.’
‘I remember him taking a trapped cat in his hand and undoing the jaws with never a scratch: and there was the savage stone-horse we took out for the Sultan.’
‘Just so: and many another example. But in this particular development, in Brigid’s particular development, the balance is extremely delicate: it may go either way. The circumstances
– the physical environment itself – are so exceptional. I must consult with Dr Willis: I must write to Dr Llens in Barcelona, the great expert in these matters. Yet in any case Mrs Williams must be kept away. She called and savaged Clarissa with impertinent questions and then insisted on seeing the child, her grand-niece: she frightened her, offering to give
her a great shaking if she would not speak. I am happy to say that Clarissa put her out of the house directly.’
‘I have a great esteem for Clarissa Oakes.’
‘So have I. But that woman shall not go to Barham again. I must have a word with her.’
They were almost in the stable yard, and Jack said, ‘In point of fact she and Mrs Morris are waiting for you: I said you would be here today, and they are waiting for you.
They are in a great taking.’
“What’s
amiss?’
‘Their man Briggs played the informer once too often: the hands caught him in Trump’s Lane, coming back from the ale-house, and beat him. Black night, no words; only a din like a great puppy being whipped.’
‘Oh Dr Maturin,’ cried the three children more or less in unison, as they came running in from a side-walk. ‘There you are. You have arrived! Grand-mama posted us by the gazebo to look out for you. She and Mrs Morris beg you to come at once. Briggs was set upon and terribly beaten by the Hampton Blacks. .
‘Mr Owen the apothecary has plastered him and says he may live; but we doubt it.’
‘Please may we take you there at once? We were promised fourpence if we took you at once. Papa will look after the horse, will you not, dear Papa?’
‘She is a mare, stupid. An Arab, sir, I believe?’
Stephen walked in, and when he had endured their clamour, indignation and circumstantial account for some considerable time, he desired the ladies to leave him with the patient. He made his examination: here indeed was a truly swollen, bloated face, and back and buttocks strongly marked with
rope’s-end and cobbing-board; but no broken bones, no incised or lacerated wounds.
Stephen was surprised that a man long accustomed to the race-course should be so upset by these moderate degrees of violence; yet Briggs was quite prostrated
– fright almost amounting to terror, dignity shattered, a sense of total outrage, and perhaps something close to abject cowardice. Stephen approved Mr Owen’s dressings, prescribed a few harmless comfortable medicines and crossed the passage to where the anxious ladies sat.
‘He needs quietness, a dim light, and undemanding company,’ he said. ‘If Mrs Morris would be so good as to sit with him, I will explain the treatment to my aunt Williams, since our relationship allows me to use medical terms and expressions that I should be embarrassed to employ in the presence of any other lady.’
‘They have not cut him, have they?’ cried Mrs Williams when they were alone. ‘I trust that was not what you meant when you said embarrassed.’
‘No, ma’am,’ said Stephen. ‘You will not have an eunuch on your hands.’
‘I am so glad,’ said Mrs Williams. ‘I have heard that robbers often do it to people who resist them. They do it out of spite, knowing that gentlemen do so hold to their. . . you understand me.’
‘Is it known who the robbers were?’
‘We are pretty sure, and I am going to lay an information with Sir John Wriothesley, the justice of the peace. At first we half-suspected the seamen he had very properly caused to be admonished, yet Mr Aubrey, Commodore Aubrey, flatly denied it; and he is
practically a flag-officer. But then it came out that they had black faces, so it is obviously the gang called
the Hampton Blacks, who always blacken their faces when
~. they go out at night to poach the deer. They may very well ~ have known that he often carries considerable sums to and
from Bath for us.’
‘Did they take anything?’
‘No. He clung so bravely to his watch and money that they got nothing at all.’
‘Very well. Let him be kept quiet and dosed regularly, and I think I may assert that you will find him as good as ever in seven days’ time.’
‘He is in no danger, then?’ cried Mrs Williams. ‘So I may send and countermand the priest? He will not charge if he is told in time, I am sure. Mr Briggs is a Papist, you know.’
Stephen bowed. Mrs Williams said ‘What a relief,’ and rang the bell for some madeira for the Doctor.
As he drank it – Jack always had capital madeira – she said in a musing voice ‘Not that I have anything against Papists. Did you ever hear of Mrs Thrale?’ Stephen bowed again. ‘Well, she married one, after her husband died, a man of somewhat lower rank, and even a foreigner; but now she is received everywhere, I understand.’
‘No doubt. Here is a brief list of the necessary measures and doses, which I desire you will adhere to with the utmost regularity. And now, ma’am, I wish to speak to you of my daughter Brigid. As you are aware, her mental health is delicate; but you probably do not know that its progress has now reached a critical stage at which any shock or setback may prove disastrous. I must therefore beg that for the present your kindly-intended visits to Barham may cease.’
‘Am I not to see my own flesh and blood? My own grandniece? Believe me, Dr Maturin,’ cried Mrs Williams, her voice reaching its metallic, dominant ring, ‘these childish, self-willed, stubborn, obstinate fancies are best dealt with firmly: a good shaking, the black hole, bread and water and perhaps the whip answer very well and at no cost: though to be sure you are a physician and everything in that line is free.’
‘I should be sorry to forbid you my house,’ said Stephen.
But Mrs Williams, well launched, carried straight on: ‘And let me tell you, sir, that I cannot at all approve of the young person in charge of her at present. Naturally it was my duty to ask her a few questions to satisfy myself of her suitability; but all I got was short answers, unsatisfactory replies. A very repulsive reserve, a confidence and self-sufficiency, a want of submissive respect that quite shocked me. And there are rumours of debts, inquiries in the village, questionable morality . .
‘I am perfectly well acquainted with the lady’s antecedents,’ said Stephen in a more determined voice, ‘and I am perfectly well satisfied with Mrs Oakes’ qualifications as a person to look after my daughter; so let us have no more of this, if you please.’
‘I ought to be appointed guardian, with a right of inspection when you are away on these interminable voyages. I certainly have a moral right to visit; and a legal one too, I am sure.’