‘Yes, but they won’t act. No one is going to admit that they know anything about it, and more importantly it hasn’t affected the right class of people. You know how it is. There’s no way of knowing for sure it’s the same culprit, but I fear somebody has set up to trade.’
‘An amateur?’ Raven asked.
‘Impossible to be sure. It’s certainly not the worst I’ve seen in my time.’
‘When it comes to this, nobody truly knows what they’re doing,’ Raven stated. ‘But nonetheless, a level of medical knowledge is necessary to even know where to begin.’
‘I wouldn’t speak those words too loudly, my friend, and nor would I wish to be the first to suggest adding it to the curriculum. But you speak the truth. It is disappointing to think of someone offering what they know to be literally a stab in the dark, butchering women in their greed for fast cash.’
Raven thought of Weasel’s blade and understood how quickly one’s ethics might be abandoned given a powerful enough motivation.
‘We can only hope that his technique improves quickly,’ he suggested. ‘Else these two won’t be his last victims.’
‘Can we say for certain it is a he?’ Henry asked.
‘I suppose not,’ Raven admitted. ‘There are always unscrupulous midwives ready with a sharp knitting needle if the price is right, and I have heard it suggested that women feel easier about approaching someone of their own sex when soliciting such illicit services.’
‘Not merely for illicit services,’ Henry replied. ‘I have heard tell that there is a French midwife working in the city, eagerly sought after by ladies who would rather not be treated by a man.’
Raven thought of the needless encumbrance of the bedsheets that prevented him and Dr Simpson seeing what they were doing. He wondered if the preservation of modesty was less of an issue when the practitioner was female.
‘French, you say?’
‘A graduate of the Hôtel Dieu, no less, if the accounts are to be believed.’
‘Then you don’t need to worry about her being this butcher,’ Raven said. ‘A graduate of the Hôtel Dieu would know well enough what she was about.’
‘Then perhaps it’s not I who ought to worry about her. You’re the one she’s competing with.’
‘I’ll start worrying when they start training women to be doctors.’
Henry laughed.
‘So who were they?’ Raven asked. ‘The victims?’
‘One of them was a tavern maid, the other a prostitute.’
Another deid hoor, Raven thought.
‘We don’t get fine ladies washing up at the Infirmary,’ Henry went on. ‘The quality can afford a home visit from the likes of Dr Simpson.’
‘I don’t believe this is a service that he offers,’ Raven said, though it struck him that he had no means of knowing.
‘No, and nor was that what I was suggesting. Though I sometimes wonder what they do over in the New Town when there is an inconvenient issue.’
‘They simply have the babies,’ Raven supposed, thinking of the household staff commanded by Mrs Simpson, reputedly modest by some standards. ‘Then pass them off to nurses and nannies. It is always different when there is money. These young women must resort to desperate measures because they feel they have no alternative.’
Henry nodded solemnly, slowing his stride as they reached the entrance where their routes would diverge.
‘More desperate than anyone might believe,’ he said ruefully. ‘I’m told an infant’s leg was found in a gutter by a scavenger rooting in an alley near the Royal Exchange. The authorities are looking into that one, at least.’
As they parted ways, Raven was left with a profound sense of sadness over the fates of these women, though he had not known them, nor even seen them. He knew that it was down to a sense of guilt over Evie, whose death scene he had run from like he had something to hide.
Raven wondered what he might have missed. He had been too startled by the discovery that she was dead and the danger of being found in there with the body that he hadn’t looked properly – hadn’t seen things he might otherwise have noticed?
Though Flint’s men were on the prowl, he knew he had no choice. He would have to go back.
ELEVEN
One young woman sat with a small child on her knee, his cheeks lividly flushed and two rivulets of greenish mucus escaping from his nostrils to form a small lake on his top lip. He appeared far from content with his circumstances and Sarah knew the threat of voluble crying was never far away. However, his mother proved herself resourceful in having come equipped with a means of soothing her fractious charge. Every now and then her hand would disappear into a pocket and then emerge with a small piece of confectionary, which would be popped between his lips to buy a few more minutes of silence.
Sarah watched this from her position at the door and groaned inwardly at the thought of the threads of stickiness his little fingers were likely to leave behind. There was also a trail of muddy footprints leading from the door to the fireplace. As much as she enjoyed helping out at the doctor’s clinic, the daily congregation of patients fairly added to her workload.
She noticed that the fire was beginning to die down, so she crossed the room, knelt down at the grate and shovelled in some more coal. As she poked at the fire, Will Raven emerged from his consulting room. He took a moment to spot her, crouched by the hearth, but she knew he would not proceed until he had her attention. She stood up and indicated a man cradling his right hand, which was wrapped in a particularly grotty cloth. Sarah had no inkling what was beneath it, but the smell had made it a priority, and not merely because the source might prove serious.
Sarah watched Raven lead the man away, still holding his forearm as though bearing a dead weight. She remained unsure quite what to make of the professor’s new student apprentice. He lacked the confidence and self-assurance she was used to in the gentlemen who called to the house, and even allowing for his comparative youth, Raven’s manner was in marked contrast to that of his predecessor, Thomas Keith. Dr Keith’s younger brother had seemed altogether more comfortable in his position, although she ought to consider that when Thomas first arrived, Sarah was new too, and not merely to the household, but to her job.
She had the impression Raven was out of practice in dealing with domestic staff, most likely resultant of his time spent in lodgings whilst attending the university. This perhaps also accounted for the fact that he seemed rather thin and not nearly as well-nourished as she would have expected. Sarah had heard tell of how driven young men could become obsessive in the pursuit of their studies, and consequently neglectful of their worldly needs. This struck her as ironic in one studying medicine, training to look after bodily health, but for Raven to have secured such a coveted position with the professor, she supposed he might have been just so single-minded.
If there was one thing she had to give him credit for, it was that he was always kind and solicitous towards the patients, listening attentively and never talking down to them. Once again, it might seem ironic that such a trait should be remarkable in a supposedly caring profession, but Sarah had come to recognise a particular haughtiness common among medical men. Perhaps Raven hadn’t yet acquired it, or perhaps it was this aspect of