replacing it with my greatcoat and wrapping my scarf about her thin neck. But what should I do next? If my first thought was for the living, the second must be to prevent the corpse being swept further downstream. I could no more rely on it staying where it was than I could expect an explanation from her charges to be sufficiently coherent to send assistance to us.
But it seemed that the arrival of two sobbing girls without their governess occasioned sufficient alarm for several outdoor servants to come running towards us, shouting Miss Southey’s name.
Consigning her to the care of two of them, I sent the third for Dr Hansard, suggesting he bring his fishing gear and a change of clothes, and a fourth to the rectory, with a message for my groom Jem to bring me dry clothes and boots. My first care must have been for the ladies’ welfare, but now I was shaking uncontrollably from the cold. If I was to be of any use to Dr Hansard, I must avoid becoming one of his patients. I added blankets and brandy to the list – all who were to be involved in retrieving that man colder than us all would need something to warm them as the bright day slid swiftly into chill evening.
Lit by several lanterns, with not even a handkerchief over his mouth, Dr Hansard bent over the waterlogged and stinking corpse now lying on the bridge that had impeded its progress. ‘My suspicion would be that this poor man was caught in the rain, and, losing his way, fell into the torrent. On the other hand, you will note some decay of his flesh. Surely that must have occurred before immersion.’ He cocked his head in doubt. ‘I will ask my colleague Dr Toone to assist me when I examine him.’
Jem nodded approvingly. ‘He seems to be able to read the dead like others read books or maps.’
Hansard smiled. Some villagers regarded Toone’s ability with suspicion, others with downright hostility. Jem, however, with an enthusiasm I was quite unable to share, regularly observed the two doctors’ post-mortem examination of thosepatients whom Hansard’s skills had been unable to save.
Jem peered more closely at the ravaged visage. ‘I’d say he’s a stranger to the area,’ he observed.
He earned a smile. I could only look puzzled. ‘And for confirmation look at his boots, worn right down,’ Hansard told me. ‘Now,’ he continued, straightening, ‘let us have this fellow carried to my cellar so that I may have a closer look at him.’ He turned to the waiting men. ‘Could you take that gate off its hinges so we may lay him on it?’
Jem was still peering at the body. ‘Do you have any hope of identifying him? There may be a grieving family waiting for him to return, hoping for the best, but fearing the worst.’
‘How can Hansard identify…that?’ I pointed to the ghastly facial remains.
‘I do not say I can, but as Jem says I must make the attempt. For one thing, I have that unusual hair to go on.’
I nodded. The man’s hair was more than ordinarily dark and coarse, slightly kinked. ‘It is unusual, is it not?’
‘Indeed, the only time I have seen any like this it was on the – mercifully living – head of a black servant of a Bristol friend of mine. Servant! I should say slave – but I know you share my views on the iniquitous Trade. Now, what else can the dead man say?’
‘He was not a wealthy man,’ Jem said. ‘It is not just his boots that have worn through – the coat is threadbare.’
Hansard nodded. ‘Turn back the collar – yes, where it is not so worn it tells us the cloth was good.’
‘So it was the garment of a gentleman,’ Jem agreed. ‘But old-fashioned, at that.’
‘Indeed it is so dirty, so out at elbows, that I suspect it wasdiscarded years ago and came at least second hand into this man’s wardrobe.’ He straightened and looked at me. ‘You look disappointed.’
‘I know not whether to be disappointed or relieved. Lady Chase still awaits the return of her son, you will recall, and the
But it seemed that the arrival of two sobbing girls without their governess occasioned sufficient alarm for several outdoor servants to come running towards us, shouting Miss Southey’s name.
Consigning her to the care of two of them, I sent the third for Dr Hansard, suggesting he bring his fishing gear and a change of clothes, and a fourth to the rectory, with a message for my groom Jem to bring me dry clothes and boots. My first care must have been for the ladies’ welfare, but now I was shaking uncontrollably from the cold. If I was to be of any use to Dr Hansard, I must avoid becoming one of his patients. I added blankets and brandy to the list – all who were to be involved in retrieving that man colder than us all would need something to warm them as the bright day slid swiftly into chill evening.
Lit by several lanterns, with not even a handkerchief over his mouth, Dr Hansard bent over the waterlogged and stinking corpse now lying on the bridge that had impeded its progress. ‘My suspicion would be that this poor man was caught in the rain, and, losing his way, fell into the torrent. On the other hand, you will note some decay of his flesh. Surely that must have occurred before immersion.’ He cocked his head in doubt. ‘I will ask my colleague Dr Toone to assist me when I examine him.’
Jem nodded approvingly. ‘He seems to be able to read the dead like others read books or maps.’
Hansard smiled. Some villagers regarded Toone’s ability with suspicion, others with downright hostility. Jem, however, with an enthusiasm I was quite unable to share, regularly observed the two doctors’ post-mortem examination of thosepatients whom Hansard’s skills had been unable to save.
Jem peered more closely at the ravaged visage. ‘I’d say he’s a stranger to the area,’ he observed.
He earned a smile. I could only look puzzled. ‘And for confirmation look at his boots, worn right down,’ Hansard told me. ‘Now,’ he continued, straightening, ‘let us have this fellow carried to my cellar so that I may have a closer look at him.’ He turned to the waiting men. ‘Could you take that gate off its hinges so we may lay him on it?’
Jem was still peering at the body. ‘Do you have any hope of identifying him? There may be a grieving family waiting for him to return, hoping for the best, but fearing the worst.’
‘How can Hansard identify…that?’ I pointed to the ghastly facial remains.
‘I do not say I can, but as Jem says I must make the attempt. For one thing, I have that unusual hair to go on.’
I nodded. The man’s hair was more than ordinarily dark and coarse, slightly kinked. ‘It is unusual, is it not?’
‘Indeed, the only time I have seen any like this it was on the – mercifully living – head of a black servant of a Bristol friend of mine. Servant! I should say slave – but I know you share my views on the iniquitous Trade. Now, what else can the dead man say?’
‘He was not a wealthy man,’ Jem said. ‘It is not just his boots that have worn through – the coat is threadbare.’
Hansard nodded. ‘Turn back the collar – yes, where it is not so worn it tells us the cloth was good.’
‘So it was the garment of a gentleman,’ Jem agreed. ‘But old-fashioned, at that.’
‘Indeed it is so dirty, so out at elbows, that I suspect it wasdiscarded years ago and came at least second hand into this man’s wardrobe.’ He straightened and looked at me. ‘You look disappointed.’
‘I know not whether to be disappointed or relieved. Lady Chase still awaits the return of her son, you will recall, and the
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