Dr Shivershev appeared particularly interested in this. He seemed to write down every word as I described Thomas’s various wounds.
‘Don’t you think it odd, Dr Shivershev?’ I asked by way of conclusion. ‘I know he’s involved in something troubling because he’s told me as much. Do you think it possible, Doctor, that my husband could be the Whitechapel murderer?’
‘There are murderers, Mrs Lancaster. I suppose at least some of them might be married.’
‘Then it’s fair to assume that any woman could be married to the Whitechapel man, and it is logical to assume that it could be a man of a medical education. In which case, could it be me? Could I have married the Whitechapel murderer?’
‘I think,’ he said, after a long intake of breath, ‘that, given all the things you’ve told me, you have genuine cause for concern. But apart from these strange bloodstained clothes in your attic, is there anything else? This other work, for instance… You’ve said that it is more profitable, and that he is secretive about it, and that this gentleman at the restaurant with the medals may also have some involvement. What is this work exactly?’
‘I don’t know. He won’t tell me.’
‘Have you told anyone else about anything? What about the police?’
‘Oh no.’ I shook my head.
‘Why not?’
‘Think of the scandal! What if I were wrong? Thomas is a gentleman and I’m just… the daughter of a whore. It wouldn’t be hard for people to find that out, if they were to look, if I were to cause trouble. Who would believe me? The wealthy stick together – you know that. The rest of us are always set apart. Even if the only thing we have in common is our supposed inferiority to the rich, Dr Shivershev, we must be careful not to cause trouble for each other.’
‘I do understand your hesitancy. Thank you for telling me all of this, Mrs Lancaster. I think perhaps a holiday would be a good idea. Is there somewhere you can go, even for a few days, to be safe from your husband and this housekeeper?’
‘A holiday? Good grief, this is no time for a holiday.’
‘I mean somewhere you can go to be safe and out of the way while I… think about this. How do you know this other work is legal, Mrs Lancaster? Have you considered your husband might be involved in something he shouldn’t?’
‘No, no, I didn’t think of that.’
‘And you are sure you don’t know anything about it, or what it is? There have been no clues or indications? He hasn’t said anything?’
‘No, nothing, not a word, and I have asked him.’
‘Right, right.’
‘I have a house in Reading, but there are tenants who live there. Thomas knows of that, so there’s no point running there.’
‘I understand. But you must understand that I now have a duty to your care. I am concerned for you, Mrs Lancaster.’
‘You won’t tell anyone, will you? I must make a plan, but please wait, please promise me you won’t tell the police, or anyone.’
‘I promise. But for now, why don’t you come back in a few days and we’ll discuss things further then. Let’s see how that lump is doing and make sure there aren’t any new ones. I will need time to digest what you have told me. Perhaps we can make this plan together, Mrs Lancaster.’
I exhaled air that felt as if it had been trapped in my lungs for a lifetime, a poisonous mess of sulphur and lead. It felt so good to tell someone who didn’t react as if I were delusional. If I were to be lost or killed, or if something else were to happen to me, at least I had Dr Shivershev, and he would ask questions, I was sure of it. It was a desperate kind of insurance, but it was a comfort.
‘There is one thing you can do for me, Mrs Lancaster.’
‘Yes?’
‘I would like you to reduce your consumption of laudanum.’
‘Pardon?’
‘Your eyes are not responding to the light the way they should, and you’ve been scratching at your arms the entire time you’ve been here.’
‘Have I?’ I pulled up my sleeves and saw that my forearms were covered in red scratches and there were scabs on the backs of my hands I hadn’t even noticed. I was still staring at them, bewildered by the sight, when Dr Shivershev almost lifted me out of the chair by my arm.
‘Now, if you don’t mind, I really have to leave. I have an important meeting to attend. Very wealthy clients – you know how they can be.’
As he hustled me to the door, we passed the shelves crammed full of specimens. My attention was drawn to the sole dust-free cloche, and I recognised it immediately: it was the specimen from Thomas’s attic, the baby inside the womb.
All the blood ran to my feet and I thought my knees would give way. Luckily, Dr Shivershev still had hold of my arm.
‘Are you well enough to get home?’ he said. He must have felt my trembling.
‘I’m fine. I’m only tired. I think I shall go home and rest.’
‘Of course. It can’t have been easy speaking about all this. Try to be calm, please. Everything will work out, you’ll see.’ He glanced at my face and saw that my eyes were fixed on the new specimen. ‘Ah, I forget that you are a fellow medic! So of course you have noticed my latest addition.’
With my arm still in his grip, he guided me over to examine it.
‘This is an amazing piece, quite artfully removed. What we are looking at here is a uterus during pregnancy. The foetus is perfectly intact and, I think, between fourteen to sixteen weeks. Isn’t it spectacular?’ He pointed a stubby
