that estimate.
When Magnus had snuffed out the candles it was not only the wind rattling the panes in their leaden frames, or the strangeness of being home, which kept him awake so long.
4
In the small market town of Slaithworth, two miles north of the junction of the Rigton Bridge turnpike with the Oldham to Manchester road, the grocer’s daughter and the butcher’s boy stopped gossiping and stared up the street, past the saddler’s and the smithy towards the pond and the church. A resplendently turned-out travelling chariot thundered into view, forcing the carrier’s waggon against the churchyard wall, and, without slackening speed, scattering some pigs being driven to the market square. On each of the two near-side horses rode an immaculately dressed postillion in white ‘leathers’, tight scarlet jackets and tall narrow brimmed beaver hats. Each man held a whip of plaited leather with half-a-dozen polished silver bands between ferrule and thong. By the time the draper and his white-aproned assistant had come out to watch, the black and yellow chariot with its crested panels had passed the Star Inn and was speeding towards Gibbet Hill leaving a swirling cloud of dust in its wake.
Two hours later the same carriage, proceeding at a more sedate pace, entered the small gravel sweep in front of a modern mansion in a genteel Manchester suburb. Helen Goodchild looked out of the chariot’s window at the new red brick house with its stone window casings, many chimney pots, and tall flight of steps leading up to a heavily studded door with a small brass plate in the centre. For a visit to her own doctor Helen would have chosen an unostentatious brougham but for a meeting with Dr Carstairs she had wished to emphasise her position; for this purpose the emblazoned chariot with its four bay horses and two postillions could not be bettered.
Since Charles’s visit Helen had agonised for several days about whether to accept his help, but in the end had decided not to expose herself to complicated future obligations. If Charles could frighten a provincial doctor, she could do the same. It was for her to force her husband to a settlement and not for any outsider , whoever he might be. After enduring the humiliation of sending away Strickland, her fears and apprehension had given way to angry resentment and this was still her dominant mood. Without informing her husband, she had ordered the reluctant steward to open his books to her and had threatened him withdismissal unless he answered certain questions about any unrecorded payments her husband might have made to a Manchester physician. The sums paid to a Dr James Carstairs had fully confirmed Charles’s claims.
Helen’s lady’s maid got down from the rumble seat and rang the bell. The door was opened by a grey-haired housekeeper, who was joined a moment later by a bald manservant wearing striped trousers and a black tail-coat. After a brief conversation the lady’s maid came back down the steps and opened the carriage door.
‘Dr Carstairs is with a patient, your ladyship.’
‘Tell his people to inform him that if he is with the Queen’s uncle I will still be admitted.’
After further discussion, the maid returned and told one of the postillions to let down the carriage steps.
Carstairs had spent an absorbing morning in his attic laboratory , examining under a microscope organisms in the evacuations of three cholera victims, and comparing them with organic matter in samples of drinking water taken from neighbouring stand-pipes. During the past six months, only his passionate desire to discover how the disease was transmitted had given him the strength to endure the disruption of his domestic life caused by his wife’s infatuation with Lord Goodchild. A clever man, Carstairs owed his large and fashionable practice to his successful use of modern treatments. He had been the first doctor in the town to employ ether during surgery and to use chloroform to assist
When Magnus had snuffed out the candles it was not only the wind rattling the panes in their leaden frames, or the strangeness of being home, which kept him awake so long.
4
In the small market town of Slaithworth, two miles north of the junction of the Rigton Bridge turnpike with the Oldham to Manchester road, the grocer’s daughter and the butcher’s boy stopped gossiping and stared up the street, past the saddler’s and the smithy towards the pond and the church. A resplendently turned-out travelling chariot thundered into view, forcing the carrier’s waggon against the churchyard wall, and, without slackening speed, scattering some pigs being driven to the market square. On each of the two near-side horses rode an immaculately dressed postillion in white ‘leathers’, tight scarlet jackets and tall narrow brimmed beaver hats. Each man held a whip of plaited leather with half-a-dozen polished silver bands between ferrule and thong. By the time the draper and his white-aproned assistant had come out to watch, the black and yellow chariot with its crested panels had passed the Star Inn and was speeding towards Gibbet Hill leaving a swirling cloud of dust in its wake.
Two hours later the same carriage, proceeding at a more sedate pace, entered the small gravel sweep in front of a modern mansion in a genteel Manchester suburb. Helen Goodchild looked out of the chariot’s window at the new red brick house with its stone window casings, many chimney pots, and tall flight of steps leading up to a heavily studded door with a small brass plate in the centre. For a visit to her own doctor Helen would have chosen an unostentatious brougham but for a meeting with Dr Carstairs she had wished to emphasise her position; for this purpose the emblazoned chariot with its four bay horses and two postillions could not be bettered.
Since Charles’s visit Helen had agonised for several days about whether to accept his help, but in the end had decided not to expose herself to complicated future obligations. If Charles could frighten a provincial doctor, she could do the same. It was for her to force her husband to a settlement and not for any outsider , whoever he might be. After enduring the humiliation of sending away Strickland, her fears and apprehension had given way to angry resentment and this was still her dominant mood. Without informing her husband, she had ordered the reluctant steward to open his books to her and had threatened him withdismissal unless he answered certain questions about any unrecorded payments her husband might have made to a Manchester physician. The sums paid to a Dr James Carstairs had fully confirmed Charles’s claims.
Helen’s lady’s maid got down from the rumble seat and rang the bell. The door was opened by a grey-haired housekeeper, who was joined a moment later by a bald manservant wearing striped trousers and a black tail-coat. After a brief conversation the lady’s maid came back down the steps and opened the carriage door.
‘Dr Carstairs is with a patient, your ladyship.’
‘Tell his people to inform him that if he is with the Queen’s uncle I will still be admitted.’
After further discussion, the maid returned and told one of the postillions to let down the carriage steps.
Carstairs had spent an absorbing morning in his attic laboratory , examining under a microscope organisms in the evacuations of three cholera victims, and comparing them with organic matter in samples of drinking water taken from neighbouring stand-pipes. During the past six months, only his passionate desire to discover how the disease was transmitted had given him the strength to endure the disruption of his domestic life caused by his wife’s infatuation with Lord Goodchild. A clever man, Carstairs owed his large and fashionable practice to his successful use of modern treatments. He had been the first doctor in the town to employ ether during surgery and to use chloroform to assist
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