Chapters (90)
- PROLOGUE
- 1849
- ONE
- TWO
- EDINBURGH
- THREE
- FOUR
- FIVE
- SIX
- SEVEN
- EIGHT
- NINE
- TEN
- ELEVEN
- TWELVE
- THIRTEEN
- FOURTEEN
- FIFTEEN
- SIXTEEN
- SEVENTEEN
- EIGHTEEN
- NINETEEN
- TWENTY
- TWENTY-ONE
- TWENTY-TWO
- TWENTY-THREE
- TWENTY-FOUR
- TWENTY-FIVE
- TWENTY-SIX
- TWENTY-SEVEN
- TWENTY-EIGHT
- TWENTY-NINE
- THIRTY
- THIRTY-ONE
- THIRTY-TWO
- THIRTY-THREE
- THIRTY-FOUR
- THIRTY-FIVE
- THIRTY-SIX
- THIRTY-SEVEN
- THIRTY-EIGHT
- THIRTY-NINE
- FORTY
- FORTY-ONE
- FORTY-TWO
- FORTY-THREE
- FORTY-FOUR
- FORTY-FIVE
- FORTY-SIX
- FORTY-SEVEN
- FORTY-EIGHT
- FORTY-NINE
- FIFTY
- FIFTY-ONE
- FIFTY-TWO
- FIFTY-THREE
- FIFTY-FOUR
- FIFTY-FIVE
- FIFTY-SIX
- FIFTY-SEVEN
- FIFTY-EIGHT
- FIFTY-NINE
- SIXTY
- SIXTY-ONE
- SIXTY-TWO
- SIXTY-THREE
- SIXTY-FOUR
- SIXTY-FIVE
- SIXTY-SIX
- SIXTY-SEVEN
- SIXTY-EIGHT
- SIXTY-NINE
- SEVENTY
- SEVENTY-ONE
- SEVENTY-TWO
- SEVENTY-THREE
- SEVENTY-FOUR
- SEVENTY-FIVE
- SEVENTY-SIX
- SEVENTY-SEVEN
- SEVENTY-EIGHT
- SEVENTY-NINE
- EIGHTY
- EIGHTY-ONE
- EPILOGUE
- HISTORICAL NOTE
- ACKNOWLEDGEMENTS
- Extract from A Corruption of Blood
- 1850
- ONE
It failed to have its usual effect. The woman sucked air in through her teeth and shook her head.
‘I don’t think I can help you,’ she said. ‘We don’t sell it to them that kens nothing aboot it.’
TWENTY-ONE
he was not prone to such feelings, but Sarah was experiencing a profound discomfort about her surroundings. It was as though the chamber she found herself sitting in seemed to be closing in around her; or, even more disturbingly, that she was growing larger and all the more conspicuous within it. It was a small parlour dominated by a marble fireplace that was too big for the size of the room. There was also a surfeit of furniture: armchairs, tables, an elaborately decorated armoire, planters and plant pots. The curtains were closed and the mirror above the fireplace was draped in black crepe. The clock on the mantelpiece was stopped. Either the maid had failed to wind it, or it had been deliberately left that way to commemorate the hour of Mrs Johnstone’s death. Were it the latter, then it was a strange custom for a medical man to observe.
Anxiety was beginning to contribute to her sense of slow suffocation. Perhaps she should not have come. The housemaid had looked at her askance when she had asked to see Dr Johnstone, thinking that she was a patient. She had assured the girl that she was not but had some difficulty explaining the reason for her visit. A private matter, she had said.
She was belatedly coming to appreciate that there was a form of safety in playing the restricted role of a maid or some other menial. Married or not, to present yourself as an independent woman on business of your own volition was to place yourself outside the protection of certain structures, and it was making her feel vulnerable.
Her mind turned to Will Raven and his refusal to assist her. She was surprised at his lack of concern for Dr Simpson, his reluctance to come to his mentor’s defence. He seemed to have forgotten all that the doctor had done for him: taking him on as an apprentice, accommodating him under his roof, nurturing his talent; to say nothing of believing that he had talent in the first place.
Despite his outburst, she did not think Raven believed he had outgrown Dr Simpson, and that a year abroad had rendered further instruction superfluous. The professor was fond of saying that the medical practitioner should never cease to be the medical student, that professional distinction was dependent upon continuously extending knowledge by constant observation, reflection and reading. Raven would be quick to agree with Simpson that we are all works in progress, forever incomplete. He would not have taken on the role of assistant otherwise. Why, she wondered, was he therefore so reluctant to show loyalty to someone he apparently esteemed?
And thus, she happened upon the answer.